#king in one piece oh lord

[softshuji]

Characters with white hair and brown skin with pretty eyes save me, save me character with white hair and brown skin and pretty eyes.

[aemondfairy]

My Sister’s Keeper

summary: Aemond intends to send you away to protect you after he starts the war, but Aegon isn't ready to let you go.

pairing: Aegon & Aemond x Sister!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mention of death, incest, threesome, p in v sex, oral (m&f receiving), voyeurism, male masturbation, infidelity (reader is married to Aemond), lactation kink, choking, cum play/eating, spit, Aegond kiss!! (oop) 18+ MDNI

note: Uhhhh. I'm sorry??? I feel like I just breezed through this, idk I was horny lol. Feedback is appreciated!

You’ll never forget the look on Aemond’s face when he first arrived back to the Red Keep from his journey to Storm’s End. Your family was desperate in the inevitable, upcoming war against Rhaenyra so Aemond had been sent to help strike up a proposal between one of Lord Borros’ daughters and the youngest son of the late king Viserys, Daeron Targaryen.

Sitting in the large bed of your shared chamber, you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival, chewing your fingernails down to bloody nubs.

“Aemond!” you practically leapt into his arms when he appeared sopping wet in the doorway. Overjoyed to see he’d returned in one piece, but something was off, something was wrong. He was vacant, like he had seen a ghost.

“Lucerys Velaryon is dead.”

With that simple sentence you knew your lives would be changed forever.

“You cannot just make me disappear,” you said to your husband through gritted teeth, as your voice trembled, lump in your throat forming as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“If we are not here they will just go looking for us.”

“Anywhere is safer than here, my love.” Aemond answered coolly.

“If you think this decision was not difficult to make, you are wrong. It is simply what's best for the both of you. You and the babe will be staying in Dorne until I know for certain that it is safe for you here.”

“But –”

“But nothing! This is not up for debate,” he growled at you, “the decision has been made and it is final!” His words cut through you like a knife.

“You cannot make a decision like this. You are not the king.”

“No “ he retorted, “but I am your husband, therefore, when it comes to you and my child, what I say goes!”

You got up and exited your shared chambers with haste, not wanting Aemond to see you cry.

Your bare feet padded against the cold stone floor of the Red Keep, the walls echoed and groaned as you made your way to your eldest brother’s chambers.

Aegon’s head perked up when he heard you come in. He stared at you sheepishly from behind his goblet of wine.

“Has he told you?”

Letting out a deep sigh, “he has.”

“I cannot leave you. I will not leave you, Aegon.”

“I know, I know,” he says, patting the spot next to him, motioning for you to come and sit.

“Our half-sister is unpredictable,” he replied calmly, “there’s no telling what she might do… not to mention, Daemon.”

As much as you did not want to admit it, both of your brothers were right. Accident or not, Rhaneyra’s son was dead. You would be a fool to believe she wouldn’t be out for blood.

Aegon pulled you into his lap, his cock already half hard. You kissed him deeply as he grinded his hips up into yours. You ran your fingers through his unruly silver hair, enjoying the feel of his mouth on you. Completely lost in the moment, you hadn’t heard Aemond enter the room.

He cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known.

“Aemond!”

Your brother-husband stalked into the room, his violet eye scanning over you with amusement.

“Oh please, do continue.”

Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to find the right words to say.

“Did you not hear me? I said continue,” Aemond repeated, as he approached you and Aegon.

“Aemond, this is not what it looks like —“

His brow furrowed at you as he gripped your chin forcing you to look him directly in the eye.

“Do you mistake me for a fool? You believed me to be unaware of your little arrangement?”

Still at a loss for words, you and Aegon just stared at your brother nervously. Aemond moved away a few inches and started to remove his tunic and his trousers. His cock strained hard against his small clothes, which he removed not long after. You gawked at him as he pumped his cock in his left hand, making his way back to you.

Aegon’s violet eyes beamed with excitement at this, pupils blown with lust. He took no time to nip at your neck, your earlobes, grinding against your core once again.

“I fear this is inappropriate,” you began.

“What’s inappropriate is you sneaking away from your husband to come fuck this wastrel,” Aemond began, his words thick with venom.

“Clearly, you want the both of us. So have us… while you still can.”

A slight moan left your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing Aegon easier access to your throat, your gaze never leaving Aemond’s, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head at you.

Aemond had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, the tip bright red, lushed and angry, his arousal already dripping from the tip.

Aegon leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, and began to suck harshly. Being that your babe was only two months old, you were lactating. A loud moan escaped your lips as you felt the milk begin to flow.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, “just like that. You’re doing so good.”

You could feel his cock twitching against your leg at your praise as he continued to ravenously lap at your breast.

As he switched to your other breast he sucked harder at your stiffened peak, the milk coming almost instantly. He palmed your abandoned breast with his large hand, squeezing gently. Shivers ran down your spine as the sweet feeling of relief washed over you once again.

A growl erupted from Aemond’s throat and he unexpectedly pulled Aegon away from your chest. To your utter surprise, he crashed his lips against Aegon’s, tasting your milk on his tongue. You watched with bewilderment as your husband passionately kissed your brother, tugging at his unruly hair, moaning into his mouth. Arousal seeped from your core and onto Aegon’s thighs. Aemond broke the kiss abruptly and stared at you.

Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you around so you were underneath him. Your eldest brother positioned you so you were laying on your back comfortably against the pillows. He nestled himself between your thighs and hastily hiked your nightgown up over your waist. You shivered as his warm breath fanned over your folds. Before you could blink his tongue was prodding at your entrance. Your hands flew to the back of his head on instinct, pulling him closer into your center.

Aemond approached you carefully. He tapped his cock against your lower lip a few times, a signal for you to open your mouth. Just as he did so, Aegon’s tongue had reached the right spot, causing your mouth to gape open as a loud moan escaped your lips. Aemond took this as an opportunity to forcefully shove his cock into your mouth. You felt a rush of pleasure as Aemond's cock filled your mouth. You began to suck and lick it, eager to make him moan even louder. Aegon's tongue continued to explore you as you pleasured Aemond, and you felt your body quiver with pleasure.

If you knew being with another man in his presence would have this effect on him, you would have brought your affair to light long ago.

With a low groan of your name he pumped in and out of your mouth mercilessly, the salty taste of his precum evading your tastebuds. The air left your lungs as you gagged around him. You could feel the pent up anger Aemond held for the entirety of the situation with each brutal buck of his hips. Ever so slowly he pulled back, giving the you the illusion he was going to give you a break. But before you were able to catch your breath, his cock found his way to the back of your throat again. The faster he went, tears began to stream down your face.

As bubbles of spit began to form around the corners of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks to the best of your ability. With Aegon now three fingers knuckle deep in your cunt it was almost impossible for you to focus on Aemond; but as the pace of his thrusts quickened you knew he was going to cum soon. You moaned around his length, the vibrations making his cock twitch, you could feel every throb of the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock.

“No,” Aemond growled as he pulled himself from your throat, “I need to feel your cunt around me.”

Aemond all but shoved Aegon away from you, almost knocking him off the large bed. Aemond lined his cock up with your center and sheathed himself inside of you with quickness.

As Aegon now sat on the upper left corner of the bed, he watched intently as Aemond’s cock disappeared into you repeatedly. One hand tugged at his painfully hard cock and the other wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he cooed, “look at how you take him so well,” he praised.

You nodded your head at him enthusiastically, pleasure overwhelming you. Aegon hooked his thumb into your mouth and you sucked and nipped at it intently.

There was no doubt that Aemond enjoyed the praise as well, snapping his hips even harder into your own. His cock bullied your sweet spot mercilessly. Your body tingled with a mix of pleasure and pain as Aemond's thrusts intensified; pressing hard against your cervix. His large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently. The overwhelming sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the raw desire consuming your every thought.

“Fuck, Aemond, I’m going to cum!” you screamed as your hot waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Aegon watched intently as your orgasm wracked your entire frame, his own following not long after. He let out a loud groan as he came into his hand. He flashed an evil grin at Aemond as he brought his fingers to Aemond's mouth, shoving them down his throat.

Your husband gagged around his digits, sucking Aegon's release from them.

As the aftershock of your orgasm continued to pump though you, your cunt squeezed around Aemond’s cock. The depravity of it all overwhelmed him and Aemond cum with a shudder. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he was spilling himself inside of you.

As Aegon removed his fingers from your husband's throat, Aemond leaned over you, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Open up, baby," he said before spitting directly into your mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Aegon's cum evident on your tongue. You swallowed with a contented hum.

Aemond pulled himself out of you and got up quickly.

You curled up in the bed next to Aegon, Aemond’s seed seeping out of you onto the sheets, sleep finding you almost immediately.

“She can stay here for the night,” Aemond said as he leaned down to kiss your sweat-drenched forehead.

Aegon frowned at his brother.

“Aemond, we cannot make her leave,” he rasped, desperation clear in his voice.

“I think she needs to leave now more than ever, brother. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

A loud sigh escaped Aegon’s lips as he diverted his gaze from Aemond to you, pushing your hair out of your face, admiring your beauty.

“Enjoy your time with her tonight. She will be on her way to Dorne by morning.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[ethereal-night-fairy]

This dark vampire poly!141 x hostage!reader idea is based off a comment I got on one of my works on Ao3 I would love to tag them if they were on Tumblr but I don't think they are.

Comment : Oh I'd love a vampire au! An idea for it if you are open to consideration: the 141 have been around for centuries, John pretty much turned all of them starting with Simon, then with Johnny, and then with Gaz being the youngest (although Gaz is still over a century old). Reader, of course, is human, moving to a new town to start over completely and ends up running into one of them. And they just know that reader is the missing piece that they had been looking for--the one that is the last to be bound to them. Because for an immortal creature it only makes sense that they would, in even just the name of species preservation, have multiple mates dictated by fate, instinct, or what have you :)

This sounds like a great premise for a vampire au. Also what if Knight price was turned in the medieval ages by a vampire lord he was tasked to kill and ended up being turned as he killed the last of the vampire kin for the English king. He fled obviously when he realised what happened letting his knights think he was killed in battle.

-

Time passes and he doesn't age, he watched his loved ones from a distance growing old and having children before ultimately passing away. It pains him that he lives like an animal hunting for blood in the forest unable to live a normal life.

But he still wishes to do good, to be good . So as his powers build and the sun doesn't scorch his skin anymore. He joins the army century after century to regain some sense of humanity. (That's a horrible way to regain humanity if I'm honest, though in his defence he fell for the propaganda and thought he was doing a good thing.) But the bloodlust becomes so much worse the more he kills. The more blood stains his hands the more he longs for the chaos and violence.

He gathers companions along the way. Men like him that were on the brink of death but had so much to live for. He couldn't let them die he just couldn't! By the 21st century he had his little taskforce. His boys, his lovers, his family but someting was missing. What could it be? They lived comfortably with the wealth they had accumulated. They had their buffet layed out for them on the battlefield. What more could they want?

But something was out of place. Even with his lovers, life was becoming bleak when all they saw was violence and bloodshed. That was until they found a delicate little hostage in their capture or kill mission. Scared little thing you were tucked away in the corner of a bedroom, chained to the wall. You'd do nicely as their pet. They bet your blood tastes just as sweet as your tears.

Their reply: Oh I love it! Johnny being a warrior that at the Battle of Culloden, fighting for Scottish independence from the British, happens to die while fighting an infuriating man. Said infuriating man, dying by the Scottsmans hand, just so happens to be lieutenant Simon. Price having already planned to watch over Simon (he said he wouldn't get attached) yet he can't help but to turn Johnny too. Neither are happy at first, they have their differences, but they can't deny the bond and love that forms. Then the three of them meet Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick in world war ii. So bright and full of life, passionate about fighting for his country and ending Nazi regime. The man runs right into a fight, saving dozens upon dozens of men, and the three know they can't let him remain dead when the inevitable comes. And Gaz, well, he keeps that light within him because at least now he can make sure that the war to end all wars wasn't done in vain.

I just wanted to show off their ideas too since it's what inspired my little snippet. I not sure if I'll turn this into a actual thing though.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[teezersfics]

Money, Revenge & Sex ~ Choi San

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

♡ EROTICA ATEEZ ♡

Warnings : Pirate-Cowboy!Dom!San, Cowgirl!sub!reader, unprotected sex, little mention of abuse. Plot at the beginning and the end, mostly plot based. Plot-twist(?), no proof read.

Word count : 3.1 k

I hope you like the...........plot?!?!??!? 😬

Sitting at one of the stools at the tavern, you are scanning the crowd, trying to find the most anticipated faces. The Pirate King and His Crew, one of the most deadly pirates to exist in the present world. Who were rumoured to be on the shore of Puerto Escondido, (Mexico), around this week, for a secret mission, and, you suspect, what can it be.

Lord Antonio, the most popular and wealthy dealer of South Mexico, asked ATEEZ, a Pirate group consisting of the most deadliest crew in this world, for help, to gain power over the southern ports of Mexico. He asked for this favour some years ago. By providing some of the best types of products from all over the world to Mexico, by eliminating all the cunning Mayor's of the towns alongside the southern coast, to bring him the control of those towns. Initially, Antonio's intention of gaining the power was to provide good amenities to the people of the coast, avoid them from facing assaults and loots from other pirates, etc.

But, as time passed, Antonio grew greedy for more and more money. He started keeping all the money eventually, growing his domination over the ports and trades happening in South Mexico. When the news reached the Government, they sent the Navy to gain back control, and execute Antonio. But, with all the power he had, he fooled the Navy, and killed many Navy officers. He crushed all of the attempts of the Navy and the government.

There was a deal, happened between ATEEZ and Antonio, that whenever ATEEZ pays a visit to Mexico, Antonio will pay them 1/4th of the profit he gained every month. But, he broke the deal, only paying for the first two months, later on he pretended to be busy, to have gone somewhere, tried to hide and what not. When ATEEZ heard all the news about how much Antonio has turned the tables with his promises and declarations, and how much serious crimes he committed, that he had a big bounty on his head and also an execution order.

It's been two years since Antonio has been deceiving many, including ATEEZ. Because of non-frequent visits at Mexico, it was not possible to carry out the execution mission of Antonio sooner, but now was the time. And that is why they are here, in the Tavern, disguised as some of the local Mexican men, so that to fool Antonio's men from recognising them. Well, this plan was secret, but one of the men of Antonio, sailing in sea for fishing, saw Destiny(ATEEZ's ship) from far, letting their men know that ATEEZ were here.

The vibe of the tavern party, is something that you adore with your heart. The whole tavern is filled with melodic voices of Vihuela, Accordion, Trumpet, and other instruments. People having glasses of tequila and beer in their hands above their heads, bodies grooving to the music, the dim lighting in the Tavern coming from few of the candles and oil lamps here and there. But, your eyes are trained on one particular person.

A man, buff, wearing only a piece of black jacket, with fringes attached to it, flowing independently on his torso, studs decorating the linings of the jacket. The jacket, doing bare minimum to hide his upper body. You wonder why did he even wore the jacket for? Wearing tight leather pants underneath, a Black cowboy hat on his head, completing his look. A black scarf around his neck and mouth, making it hard for everyone to see his face. But, the way his eyes are just so inviting, so captivating. It's like a Maelstrom is sucking a ship inside of it, and the crew can do nothing but see helplessly, getting sucked in. Especially, his TITS. More distracting than his eyes. The way his fringe jacket is doing nothing to cover his chest. As if he is just showing, he ‘tried’ to cover up, but well…….

The fact that you can actually tell he is Pirate. As a dealer yourself, you've had quite the experience dealing with pirates. And, pirates can be easily recognised by the sword wounds, types of tattoos, their build, rough-torn hands scratched by the splinters of the heavy ropes that they heave, and more other things.

Basically, you figured it out that pirates are already here, blending in with the crowd, wearing Mexican costumes and accessories to blend in with the crowd, mostly covering their faces. The way they are swaying to the music, as if they are pre celebrating their revenge victory over Antonio.

As, they are grooving to the music, you can't help but continuously scan him, the way his body moves to the music, the way his muscles flexes when he raise his hands up in joy. You can't help but feel the need to touch that body of his. Also, the tequila you had, slowly has started to kick in your nerves, making your grow more bolder and risk everything just to have a chance with him. Chugging down the last sip of your tequila, you join the dance.

Without wasting time, you get straight to the point, dancing a little too close to him, almost all over him. But in a way your back facing him. It doesn't takes long for him to study your moves and spins you around by your arm almost making you collide with his chest, his hands goes straight to your lower back, holding you while without wasting time your hands are on his chest, finally feeling the contours of his buff chest. So round and heavy in your hands that you forget dancing for a moment. But his hands on your back, helps you get back to the beat, moving you along the music. Without anything else in your mind, you start dancing, moving your body along with him. It was as if you were not following the rhythm, but you were following him, following the way his body moved.

Your hands were all over his torso, but not for much. Your hands were itching to go lower and sooner you were tugging on his pants and belt. Caressing his upper thighs. He got the hint and finally he spoke, mouth over your ear, even though he was wearing mask, you could still feel the warmth.

“Tu nombre, bonita?” (your name, pretty?) He asked.

It was quiet funny because he was purposefully speaking in Spanish to keep his disguise on. But, you just laugh at it.

“You are good at Spanish.”

His brows are furrowed, not quiet getting what you meant.

“Ofcourse, because I live here!”

You roll your eyes, you get that they have a mission, but it's still funny for you. Also, letting him know that you know him is dangerous move, because he is Pirate after all, he can kill you right away if you slip.

Eventually, his hands starts getting lower, now on your hips. Your bodies a literally pressed together. Oh, how bad you wanna take that scarf off his face. He literally smelled like tequila, some intoxicating herb, and sweat. He was taking over your mind.

‘If I don't get fucked by thus man right now, I might go more Feral.’ Thus was your thought process at the moment and you unknowingly grind forward on him. It was as if your body decided to do it on it's own. Not sure if he'd like it or not, String of ‘Sorry's’ come out of your mouth. But, his grip remains firm on you.

Rather, he buries his head in crook of your neck. He whispered,

“Seems like, you will make me do, what I am not supposed to right now.”

Goosebumps all over your body, you exactly knows what he means. But, you want him to do, exactly what he is not supposed to. So, you swirl your hands more on hiUs body, especially his tits, and you feel how his nippels perks up in some seconds. It's the limit for him.

Holding your wrist he drags out out of party. One of his men see him, stopping him to whisper something in his ear.

“What are you doing? It's not the time.” He says.

“Don't worry, I'll be right back.” He assures the other man with a wink.

He takes you to one of the storage rooms, at the back of the Tavern.

As soon as he closes the door, he wastes no time in pinning you to the door, taking his scarf off and kissing you. Open mouth from the start, he was so desperate to have his mouth on you. So rough that, you were constantly falling out of breathe. His both hands cupping your cheeks, shoving his head in yours. Tongues inside each others mouths. But you pull him away because you didn't get the chance to see him properly.

You were already drowned in his eyes, but now that you see his full face you are mesmerised. You are seeing such a handsome pirate for the first time. The moles on his face, sharp features, the scar on his lips is like the cherry on top. (Imagine Toji's scar)

You don't wait to kiss the scar on his lips, slowly, licking it, he is surprised but soon takes control, biting on your lower lip again and again, now hands on your hips, massaging them, which brings out a moan from you.

“Fuck, your moans are so pretty. Can't wait to hear you moan my name.”

“Then tell me what's your name.” You cock an eyebrow at him. But, it can't beat the perfect smirk on his face.

He drags you to one of the tables in the room, bending you immediately. His hands work on your long skirt, pulling it down along with your panties. You are shocked by his speed. You wanted to get fucked so badly, but he was more into this business than you. While at the same time you removed your shirt. But, as his hand comes to your clit, a long sigh leaves your mouth. Making your legs shiver. It's been a long, very long time. He rubs on your clit, later getting to your folds. He is surprised.

“Oh look, how wet you are already.” You can hear the squelching sound from his rubbing on your folds. But, your legs are not wide enough for him. So he spreads your legs with his own, making your entrance easier for access.

“Hmm, that's more like it.”

He enters one of his finger in your hole, getting a yelp from you. His finger just continues to enter you more and more. You saw his fingers were long, but they feel longer inside you. When he starts thrusting his single finger inside you, it's already numbing your head. You lay your head on the table, cheek flat on the surface.

“Oh fuck-” is all you can say.

“It's just the start, bonita.” He says sliding in another finger. You moan, the feeling is too amazing that you bang your fist on the table. You back was arching, giving him the best angle. He comes down to reach your ear.

“You are a mess, just on my finger. What will happen when you take my dick?” He chuckles right over your ear, sending goosebumps right to your pussy. But, it was a mind blowing feeling when he started scissoring inside of you, as if your pussy would explode anytime with pleasure.

You can hear the sound of the shuffling, he unbuckles his pants, removing them halfway down. Palming his cock through his boxers, he throws his head back, with the thought that next minute his cock will be inside you. He is getting you ready to take him, thrusting his fingers harder on you. It almost feels as if you'd come on his fingers already. But his motion stops. Finally removing his boxers, he strokes his hard dick, spreading his pre cum all over his length.

He spreads his both fingers that are still inside you, making your hole wider, which makes you scream in both pain and pleasure. He rubs his cock on your folds, using your wetness as lube. It's already too much for you. He comes down to you again, to whisper in your ear.

“Oh, and my name is San, in case you need to moan.”

He goes back again, now slowly pushing his cock in. You can hear him sigh loudly.

“Gosh, one of the tightest pussy I've had in a while.” This had you already clenching around him.

After a moment he starts moving. “Fuck San. You- you are too big.”

His thrusts are shallow at first, but sooner he starts gaining momentum. He starts ramming into you and all you could do is grip the table for your dear life. If this keeps going on, the table is gonna leave scratch marks on your stomach. You can hear him groan from behind.

“Ah, San….San fu- fuck.”

“You enjoy getting fucked like this, don't you.” He scoffs. He knew the power he held on you. The loud noises of skins slapping on each other, the squelching sound of your pussy, his groans everything was so overwhelming. You turn your head a slightest bit to get a view of him, and oh! The way his chest is fully covered in sweat, his hairs sticking to his temple because of sweat, droopy eyes. Oh! How much you wished that you kissed him right now and roamed your hands in his hairs. This position was amazing but you wished it was more convenient, also, your legs can give out at any second. He seemed to have noticed that.

“Is this position causing you trouble baby?” He whispers in your ear.

“You wanna see me better? Wanna see how I fuck you?”

All you could do is nod.

“Very well! Then let's switch. You will stand up for me, right baby?”

Nodding, he removes himself from you and you sigh at the feeling of emptiness. But standing up you face him and the next thing you know he lifts you up by your hips and sets you on the table.

Spreading your legs wide by his large hands, he lines up his cock on your clit. Pecking you quickly on the lips he said.

“Let's get this done. Okay?”

He enters you again and your head falls in the crook of his neck. It's just you are not used to his size. The most beautiful man you have ever fucked. How much you wished he stayed around for much more or you could get to see him more. The sudden urge to mark him yours raised and so you started leaving hickeys on his neck and chest as he pounded in you.

But, when he unexpectedly traced the long scar on your torso, it made you visibly flinch. Something that you considered as your biggest flaw.

“A scar, this long, as if you were scraped by a sword.”

“Hmph, yeah. It was a sword.”

“Who would do this to such a beautiful lady like you.”

You take a deep breath.

“M- My father.”

“Why?”

“Be- because I am doing my w- work by going against him. So he tried to kill me because, he- he thinks I am his competition.”

“How insecure he can be. But, it's okay baby, no one can hurt you when I am here.”

The way he speaks, it makes you cling more to him, to rely on him. He is a complete stranger with no business in your pain, but he still assures to protect you. Now is the time. You can tell him what you want to, right at this moment. This can be, he can be your chance of fleeing away from here. And so you finally say it.

“S- San, I know where the key is- the key to Antonio's grand safe.”

He couldn't believe his ears that he stopped his movements.

“What are you saying?” He is purely confused.

“I know you are from ATEEZ, and I know you are here to revenge Antonio.”

He shaked his head, still believing this was fake.

“This fuck so good, I am hallucinating.” He said, trying to make sense of the situation.

“No San, I will help you get to the safe and locate Antonio.”

“Why?”

“Because I want justice too and wanna flee away from here.”

He scrunched his eyebrows, not knowing which question would get him all of the answers he needed to know. So he asked.

“How do you know about all this? Who are you?”

“Because, I am Antonio's daughter.”

The room is dead silent. His grip tightening on your waist. You just wish this doesn't go downhill. But, when he starts to move again, you yelp sudden thrust. His head in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him smile.

“I decided to fuck right women, I guess?” He scoffed. The way all of the weight from your shoulder vanished.

“If I didn't approached you, this moment would have never happened.” You reply to him, and he laughs.

He slowly increases his speed, coming to the climax. His thrusts are fast and deep, trying to reach as far as possible into you. This had you moaning loudly, into his ear, moaning his name, which is driving him more crazy.

“Shit- San, I am close.”

“Do it, cum for me.”

After few more thrusts, you both hit your climax, cumming into you, he hit a few more thrusts to ride out both of your highs. Removing himself from you, he gets dressing shortly while you lay back on the table, exhausted from the sex.

After he is dressed, he helps you get dressed, shocking you, because you didn't expect him to help you. You thought he would rather ask for the key and Antonio, and get back to his team. He notices you expression.

“What? Don't you wanna get ready, we have a mission.”

‘We’, oh! How you hope this ‘We’ remains forever.

Later, that night, they were able to get the key with your help, and get back all of their money. The remaining money, that neither ATEEZ owned nor Antonio, they rained that money upon the town at the dawn which rightfully belonged to towns’ people, later capturing Antonio, tying him up, and throwing him in middle of town's Square, letting people decide his fate, which they did by beating him up, submitting him to the government, leading to his public execution. No matter how bad he treated you, he was still your father, you still felt bad. But now you had nothing you can call yours in the town, and San knew it. He offered you to join Destiny, Ateez's crew, and you accepted.

You are standing in front of the ship and the man you are going to spend the rest of your life with, him, offering you a hand to step on the ship, him and his crew, Welcoming you aboard, to start a new life.

[backtothefanfiction]

Birthday Celebrations

Summary: Your Birthday party turns a little naughty.

Warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), getting naughty in the library

A/N- okay, so I had this idea a while ago and have finally written it. I have not proof read it and could have spent more time working out the Shakespeare quotes thing and making it better but it’s late (nearly 3am) and I just wanted to post this, so here goes. Enjoy.

You, Elspeth and Venetia had been planning this for months now. You were still at uni when Elspeth had called to check in on you one evening and had quickly changed the subject to your upcoming birthday, asking what kind of party you’d like this year. When you told her you wanted a royal soirée complete with princess, princesses, knights and queens, kings and court jesters she was ecstatic. Even more so when you suggested a game as the highlight of the evening. A scavenger hunt around the house- with a twist.

The game would see everyone partnering up and donning masks for the occasion. The couples would each be given their code phrases, a call and response taken from Shakespeare plays. Every couple would have a different play and the men had to hunt around the grounds of the house looking for their perfect match using only the lines of dialogue they had been given. When they found their match the couple could take off their masks and go back to the main hall for the party.

You were of coursed paired with Felix. Your locations, in which you would wait, were chosen out of a hat. You were more than happy when you unfolded your little piece of paper to find you’d be waiting in your favourite room in the house- the library.

You grabbed your mask and took your leave, wrapping the ribbon around the back of your head and tying it into a neat little bow. You hitched up the skirts to your princess dress so you wouldn’t trip over them and carefully made your way up the stairs.

Unsure of how long you’d have to wait until Felix found you, you grabbed one of your favourite books off of one of the shelves and sat yourself down on one of the bench seats in front of the window in hopes you could keep an eye out and at least know if he was in the house or the gardens while you waited.

It was another 10 minutes before the grandfather clocks in the house struck 9, and the game officially began.

After another 10 minutes of waiting your first potential suitor entered through the library doors. Although dressed like royalty, you knew already this wasn’t your Princess, but in the name of the game you both went through the motions.

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,” he said, it was clear that it was one of Lord Louthby’s son, a Thomas, or a James or an Elliot or something, you couldn’t quite remember. They were all rather boring and similar.

Either way, you knew he was not your partner. His starting line had been from A Midsummer Nights Dream, not what you were looking for. You replied with your line from Romeo and Juliet. “The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” You replied.

“Alas my princess, it seems we are not meant to be.” He smiled before he backed away, but not before he popped his head back around the door to wish you a happy birthday. For which you smiled and thanked him before returning to your book.

The next man through your door, also wasn’t your man, but you’d know this man anywhere regardless. “Ah my dear,” your godfather said as he took you in, “are you having a good time?” He asked, rushing towards you and taking both of your hands in his, earnestly. When everyone in this house knew each other as well as they did, the masks really were arbitrary.

“Yes.” She smiled back at him.

“You wouldn’t have any clue as to where I could find Elspeth do you?” He said conspiratorially.

“Now, that wouldn’t be playing the game properly would it if I just told you where she was.”

“Oh, very well.” He said rolling his eyes, but said his line, “When you depart from me, sorrow abides-“ he said, but once again you didn’t have the rest of his line to finish.

So instead you once again said the incomplete part of your own line, “The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” You said back.

“My dear,” he James said, raising your fingers to his lips with a kiss, “I do love you, but you know I am not a fan of these games. Promise me next year you won’t make me play.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay, next year we wont play this game again.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, before kissing your knuckles once more. Then he too left.

Then came Farleigh. And then another of Lord Louthby’s sons. Then finally-

He didn’t even check it was you inside as he burst obnoxiously through the library door shouting “My bounty is as boundless as the sea! My love as deep.” He said, clutching at his chest, both hands resting on his heart.

You smiled as you took him in. Neither of you had seen what the other was wearing yet for the evening. He was wearing a costume reminiscent of the one Leonardo DiCaprio wore in the Romeo + Juliet movie. He looked just like a knight, if not a little more comfortable.

He seemed to come to a stand still in the middle of the room as he took you in, in your gorgeous Marie Antoinette style outfit. You were going to be taking the “let them eat cake” part of your birthday very literally.

Your smile turned coy as you said in a very sickly sweet way, “the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” You said, finally finishing the line.

“The more you give to me, aye?” He said, a suddenly naughty look in his eye. “Tut, tut, tut.” He said, stalking over to you and dropping to his knees before you, his fingers already pawing at the ruffles of your skirt. “Naughty princess.” He said, looking up at you with a smile in the corner of his lips. “How much you going to give me?” He asked, his eyes growing dark, his fingers making their way under your skirts.

His eyes grew wide when he realised you weren’t wearing any underwear under all those ruffles. “You really are a naughty princess indeed.” He smirked, before lifting your skirts and placing his whole head underneath them.

“Fix!” You squealed, as his warm breath tickled the inside of your bare thighs.

“Shh, shhh, shh.” He said from under the skirts. “Let me give you your birthday present before someone comes and finds us.”

“Felix, what are you doing?” You giggled as you felt his lips brush against the inside of your left knee. “What do you mean my birthday prese-“ the word caught in your mouth as he reached up to pull you further to the edge of the bench, his tongue reaching out to immediately start lapping at your folds. Your breathing hitched and you reached for his shoulder over your skirts as he began to tease at your clit. “Ahhh, Felix… Felix.” You sighed as you began to relax into his touch.

This wasn’t the first time you’d fooled around in the library together- and it wouldn’t be your last- but you both knew with a house this full and with everyone in the middle of a glorified game of hide and seek, it wouldn’t be long before someone else came knocking at the door.

“Mhhhmmm.” You hummed in urgency as you felt him slip two of his fingers into you, teasing at that spot he knew made you literal putty in his hands. He didn’t let up though, even as you were wriggling, squirming and panting. If you weren’t wrapped up in how good this felt, you’d for sure be laughing about how you could only see his legs sticking out at the bottom of your voluminous skirts.

As he continued to tease you, your eyes closed, head rolling back to rest upon the cold glass of the window behind you. The lewd sound of the wetness between your legs, mixed in with the joint pants of both you and Felix, both of you growing warm from your current activity. You were growing close. You could feel it low in your belly, the sensitivity of his tongue on your clit growing too much. You knew he could feel it too because he pulled back, his fingers rubbing vigorously at your clit, urging you to cascade over the edge.

“Come on Princess, give it to me.” He said from under your skirts; and with a couple more brushes of his fingers over your clit you found yourself careening over the edge.

His mouth latched back onto your fluttering cunt as your orgasm took over, knocking the breathe out of you. You quickly gasped, desperate for air again as Felix’s tongue lapped up everything you were giving him. But you both froze as the sound of the latch on the door opened.

Felix held tight to your thighs reassuringly, but didn’t move from under your skirts, hoping his currently half covered hiding spot would allow whoever it was to look past him initially so you could get rid of them fast.

Your voice was panicked as you locked eyes with Ollie. “Get out.” You quickly shouted. You could just about see the faint blush forming on his cheeks as he quickly left and closed the door again.

Once alone, Felix finally pulled himself out from under your skirts, desperate for air. “Uhh, it’s hot under there.” He panted and you couldn’t help but laugh at his slightly disheveled state. His eyes sparkled as he took in your own post orgasm glow, his hand reaching up to fix his hair.

After a brief pause between you, he looked to the door and back at you. “Who was it?” He asked, taking a seat next to you.

“Ollie.” You said with a tight lipped smile.

Felix scoffed, “I bet he’s gonna love that one for his visual wank bank.”

“Uhhhgg, Fix.” You whined as you shoved him with your shoulder.

“Oh come on,” he replied in jest before standing, reaching a hand out to you, “we both know you’re not an actual innocent princess.”

“No,” you said, letting him pull you up from your perch on the bench, “but I am your princess.” You said cheesily, linking you arm in his.

He gave you a half patronising kiss on the head, “Yes, yes you are.” He said. “Now come on Princess, you have a birthday party to attend…. And cake to eat.”

“Let them eat cake!” You shouted before you both exited the library in a fit of giggles and went off in search of cake.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Could I request a bat boys story? (any one, surprise me!)

Reader is being brought into the house of wind as a priestess when she peaks the interest of the boys but she's very shy. They feel the mating bond snap into place and try to romance her but start out too over the top. Since she is smaller in stature then then them, they end up overwhelming and scaring her a bit. They feel bad about it but once they take it down a notch and start small with things they slowly start to form a relationship when the mating bond finally snaps for the reader

Thank you so much for your writing! I'm enjoying your account so much!

-call me leaf annon 🌿

Scary mate.

Azriel x f!Reader.

Masterlist

Warnings; mentions of war, abuse, trauma and sexual assault.

This took way longer than I expected it to and gave me a hard time to write so I hope you enjoy it. I recently read here that Azriel is 6'10 so I decided to write this about him. Also I would like to thank you for your kind words and I hope you will enjoy this too.

The war was over and the king of Hybern was killed, everyone was picking their pieces and trying to rebuild their lives like before. You were lost, you didn’t have a home, the king destroyed your temple and killed most of the other priestesses there so you were alone. When the high lord of the night court found you, he immediately offered you a place at his court, he promised to protect you and give you a home, and you trusted him. So now here you are on the balcony of the house of wind next to Rhysand. “No one will harm you here, you will meet my family now and I promise you they are good… they will protect you and take care of you” Rhysand told you and you nodded. You smoothed your pale blue dress and fixed the stone that was hanging in the centre of your brow.

“I’m ready” you said, and Rhysand gestured to the big glass doors.

You walked inside and almost flinched at the sight; two huge males were standing in front of the dining table. Your eyes fell on the most intimidating one, he wasn’t as big as the other but the darkness that surrounded him made him look scarier. He was tall, you probably reached his chest, his body was twice your own and you could swear that if he hugged you, he would cover you entirely.

“Hello” you smiled politely.

The intimidating male’s eyes widened when you spoke, and he moved a bit closer to you. The movement caught you off guard and you instinctively took a step closer to Rhysand. The high lord scowled at him and cleared his throat. He didn’t take his eyes off him when he spoke.

“This is y/n she is the priestess I told you about.” Rhysand glanced at you, pausing for a few seconds before gesturing at one of the males “This is Cassian he is my army’s General, and this is Azriel my spymaster. We all grew up together, and I consider them my brothers.”

You nodded and glanced back at the two males. “Hello, its nice to meet you.” Cassian said and you once again smiled politely.

“You’re beautiful” Azriel blurted out surprising not only you, but his brothers too.

“Uhm thank you” you whispered. You felt uneasy by the whole situation and Azriel made you feel even more uncomfortable. You didn’t mind the compliment especially when it came from a stunning male like him, but he was so big, and he looked so strong… you knew he could overpower you anytime he wished and after what you saw during the war this fact made you feel  scared.

“Would you like to see your room?” Rhys broke the silence. You nodded and followed him. “Other priestesses used to live here too, in the library but after the war they left to rebuild their temples.” He said and guided you in a big bedroom. You gaped at the bed; it was huge. Rhys noticed that and chuckled. “All the beds in this house are like that… to accommodate Illyrian wings.”

“Oh okay… that makes sense too.” You nodded your head as you spoke. “Too? What else did you think?” he asked, a curious look forming on his face. “I…” you blushed but gathered up your courage and continued “you guys are huge even without the wings, so I thought that was the reason”.

Rhysand threw his head back as he laughed making you blush harder.  “Well yeah that too I guess” he said with an arrogant smile. You would scoff if he wasn’t the high lord.

“Anyway, I will let you settle. Please don’t be scared… they both are idiots, but kind idiots. They would never hurt you.” And with that he was gone. You took a deep breath and started exploring your room.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Evening came and your stomach rumbled, so you decided to head to the dining room again. They will probably be there having dinner too you thought and made your way there.

You were right, Cassian, Azriel and a female were sitting there, plates filled with food in front of them. They all looked at you when you walked in, and the female smiled.

“This is nice, Rhysand brought us another priestess to corrupt.” she said and both her and Cassian laughed “I’m Nesta by they way” she smirked. Azriel scowled at her and stood up, he pulled one chair back and stared at you. You approached him warily and flinched when his wings stretched behind him. He studied you for a moment and frowned. “You’re scared of me” he said. “No… I’m sorry” you muttered and sat on the chair, offering him a polite smile.

He leaned in, his one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table in front of you. You felt caged in, his body so broad that it covered your view and his smell of cedar and smoke so powerful that you couldn’t breathe. He was taking over all of your senses, you only saw him, only smelled him and only felt him. It was too much and you gasped before jumping to your feet and backing off until you hit the wall behind you. Your eyes were wide, and you were panting.

“I’m sorry” he frowned “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to push your chair in...”

“I- I’m okay don’t worry about it”. Your voice was shaky and you couldn’t stand their gazes on you so you hurried off to your room, you could survive one night without food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were sitting on your bed when someone knocked on your door. You grabbed a small dagger you had kept on you from the temple and walked to the door, when you opened it no one was there. You started to close the door and noticed a tray on the ground, plates with different kinds of food were place on the tray and a blue rose. You furrowed your eyebrows and took the tray, out of the corner of your eye you noticed a shadow slithering away.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Morning came and you got ready for breakfast, you walked around the house and enjoyed the silence, no one seemed to be there. When you reached the dining room you noticed a plate on the table filled with pancakes and a blue rose next to it. You couldn’t understand what the meaning behind the blue roses was, but you enjoyed them anyway.

No one was in the house indeed, so you explored, and found the library easily.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Afternoon found you in the main room, on one of the sofas there lost deep inside the pages of the book and holding a cup of tea. The flapping of wings made you raise your head and soon enough Cassian with Nesta in his arms and Azriel walked in. The males were dressed in Illyrian leathers, you had seen those leathers before on Illyrian warriors, but you were shocked as you noticed their siphons. The warriors you met in the past wore up to four siphons but those two had seven on them. If that wasn’t enough, you noticed the colour of Azriel’s siphons, they were the same shade of blue as the roses you found. Was he the one who left the roses there? You blushed at the thought.

“Hey y/n” Nesta smiled.

“Hi”

“We were thinking about going out tonight would you like to join us?” She said the smile never leaving her beautiful face. 

“Uhm… I don’t think so I’m tired” you replied and she snorted.

“No you’re not, you are shy and scared of these brutes. I promise I won’t leave your side.” 

You thought about it. She was right you weren’t tired, and you noticed how the males flinched when she said that you are scared of them, their faces flashed with a pained expression. Even though they were huge they seemed kind and caring in a way that made your heart swell. You saw how Cassian acted with Nesta, his features always turning soft when he glanced at her and his voice dropping down a notch when she is around. They seemed to respect females and going out with them didn’t sound so bad, especially when they could protect you from any other harm. 

“Okay” you nodded. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You didn’t know how you ended up in this situation. After arguing with Nesta for more than an hour you gave up, she was unbearable. She was trying to persuade you to wear something else than your usual pale blue dresses. She didn’t like them and she wanted you to try some dresses that belonged to her. At one point you had enough and with a huff you took the dresses from her and tried them on. She didn’t allow you to see yourself before she was finished. And when she did and guided you in front of the mirror your jaw dropped, you couldn’t recognise yourself. You were wearing a short midnight black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, it had a deep v cut at the front that reached bellow your breasts, and  she made you wear boots that reached over your knees. 

“Wow” was all that you could say. 

“Perfect right?” She giggled. 

“Thank you so much, I look amazing!” You were staring at yourself with a wide grin.

“I can’t wait to see Az’s reaction” she clapped and you froze.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Oh you haven’t noticed? He definitely has a crush on you” 

You blushed. He was a stunning male you had noticed that the moment you saw him and how could you not; he was made from sin and darkness, the powerful aura around him could bring any female to her knees. You had thought about it to be honest, kneeling in front of him and surrendering your body at his mercy. 

You blushed harder at the thought. The things you would let him do to you If only you weren’t scared of him. The roses he left you though showed that maybe he could be romantic and soft. 

You shook your head and followed Nesta not sure where because you didn’t hear a single thing she said as you were lost deep in thoughts. You reached the balcony and found Azriel and Cassian, they were dressed casually now, their outfits making them look more approachable -still intimidating though. 

Azriel was staring at you, a blush creeping in his face as he followed every curve of your body until he reached your eyes.

“Uhm… have you….Uhm have you ever flew before?” He was stuttering earning a surprised look from Cassian.

“No” you shook your head feeling more comfortable now. 

“Okay, so… I have to pick you up, are you okay with me placing one hand under your waist and the other under your knees?” The stutter was gone, yet his voice remained soft and he was fidgeting. You glanced at Nesta, Cassian was holding her in his arms the same way as Azriel explained. She gave you a nod and smiled.

“Yeah, I guess…” you muttered and moved closer to him. Cauldron, he was huge. He crouched and stretched his hand.

“I’m placing my hand behind your knees” he informed and then you felt it “and now behind your back” you felt that too. “I will pick you up now” he said but didn’t move. You glanced at him and he was staring at you waiting for your approval. You nodded.

“Words angel” he said and you felt like fainting because of the nickname. 

“Y-yes” 

And with that he picked you up and nodded at Cassian, they both stretched their wings and with two long strides they took off. You didn’t feel fear, you were so small that his body was covering yours entirely so you only felt him, not the void beneath you. And for the first time since you met him you felt comfortable by his size, it was making you feel safe. In addition to that, the way he made sure that you were okay with him touching you made your heart melt. 

The flight was silent, and as you landed he softly placed you at your feet again, before quickly moving backwards. He was trying to not scare you away and you smiled thankfully.

You entered a bar called Rita’s and followed Nesta towards a booth. Nesta sat on one of the couches and Cassian slipped next to her trying to make his wings fit. You sat on the other couch and Azriel took a seat next to you doing the same as Cassian. One of his wings bumped into you and his thigh pressed against your own. He sent you an apologetic look “It’s the only way to fit here…do you want me to find another seat?” 

You gaped at him. “No no it’s okay don’t worry” 

He smiled and turned his attention to Cassian. They started talking about their missions and stuff Rhysand had asked them to do making both you and Nesta bored. They noticed after a while and Cassian moved closer to her, kissing her neck and whispering in her ear. 

You didn’t know what to do so you glanced at Azriel, he was already looking at you.

“Do you like the house?” He asked.

“Yeah it’s okay, I really love the library”

“It is something else right? So many books..” he chuckled.

“Yes I can’t just pick one, I felt lost today every time one caught my attention I would see another better one” 

“Well you have all the time you need to read everything” he paused. “If you decide to stay of course”

“I think I already made the decision when I came here” you laughed.

“Right well I’m glad, I want you to stay” he blurted out and blushed as he realised what he said. 

“How is living here like? I mean except of Rita’s where else would someone go to have fun?” you questioned.

“There are many places, taverns, bakeries, coffee shops and also places in the nature, there’s actually one field next to the Sidra it’s amazing… it’s filled with sparkling flowers and you can see every part of Velaris.” He looked like he was daydreaming about this place.

“Maybe you can show it to me sometime” you smiled and his eyes widened.

“Of course, do you want to go now?” 

You glanced at Cassian and Nesta, they were making out and you could swear that you smelled their arousal. You wrinkled your nose and turned back to Azriel.

“Yes please” the look of despair made him throw his head back as he laughed.

“Let’s go” he stood up and offered you his hand, you gladly took it and followed him outside. Nesta and Cassian were still swallowing each other’s faces and didn’t even notice that the two of you left. Once you were outside Azriel let go of your arm and said “I have to pick you up again” 

“Okay” you shrugged and this time moved more confidently towards him placing your hand behind his neck as he crouched. He quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he swiftly picked you up and shoot off. 

“I think I can get used to this” you shouted over the wind making him smile. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The field was indeed beautiful, the flowers sparkled, the only sound was coming from Sidra… the water flowing and splashing against the mountain rocks. 

The view of the city took your breath away, the city was full of beautiful lights and buildings and the sky around it was decorated with stars of almost every colour. 

“It’s beautiful” you whispered.

“I know, I come here when I need to calm down or think.” His voice was once again soft.

“Oh I’m sorry, you didn’t have to bring me here, I don’t want to invade your privacy” you gasped.

“No it’s okay, I wanted to bring you here.” He smiled. 

You were sitting on the ground, staring at the beautiful city and talking about your past. You were crying as he told you about his childhood and then you were laughing at the stories he told you about him and his brothers. 

Then, you told him about your own past and the things you saw during the war, his jaw was ticking every time you mentioned one of the warriors raping a priestess. 

“Did anyone touch you?” He asked when you were done speaking.

“No, I was the youngest so the other priestesses would hide me when the warriors came” you teared up.

“I won’t ever let anyone touch you, and if we ever come across one of those males I will make them beg for mercy” his voice became lethal as he spoke and his gaze was so intense that it woke something in you. You couldn’t understand the feeling, it was a tightening of your chest and then it snapped. 

You gasped. He only smiled and nodded his head.

“You knew?” You asked.

“From the moment I saw you” his smile was warm and full of care. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He questioned and you nodded. 

“Words angel” he said once again and this time the nickname made your heart beat faster and you grinned.

“Yes, touch me please” 

His hand moved and caressed your jaw, he leaned closer and stared at your lips.

“Kiss me please” you whispered and he chuckled.

“Good girl” he said and captured your lips with his own. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was taking things slow... every day he would leave a blue rose somewhere in the house for you to find. Sometimes he would leave a new book on your pillow and a blue rose next to it. You got used to his size and it even became one of your favourite things about him. It made you feel safe and comfortable. 

So, a few months later you waited for him to come back from one of his missions with a plate of food you made for him and a blue rose. 

Requests are open! If you don't like it you can always ask me to rewrite it, I won't get offended!

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia

[ficsilike-reblogged]

As High As Honour

Summary: You never expected to leave Lys. You never expected to learn your mother had a family in Westeros. You definitely weren’t expecting dragons, politics, and heartache. You weren’t expecting Aemond Targaryen. Pairing(s): Eventual Soft Dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader & Ser Harwin Strong/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, death of loved ones, childbirth, death of a child (not detailed), canon typical misogyny Word Count: 8.1k A/N: No Civil War AU!! I know I said no more ASOIAF/HOtD…but this wouldn’t leave me alone. This is going to be a slow, slow, slow burn. Aemond isn’t in this chapter and Harwin only shows up for a few sentences but please come along on this adventure with me. It will set up the dynamics for the rest of the story. Reader has no physical attributes aside from silver hair and purple/mauve eyes. She is technically Aemond’s second cousin so…(Targcest?). Anyway. I’m having fun with this story, and I hope you do, too.

Book One: The Shrike

You scarcely remembered your last day in Lys. If you wracked your memories, you could recall washes of green, the smell of salt water and spicy perfumes, and the tinkling of your mother’s laugh as your father threw you into the air with a smile on his face.

But you also remembered your mother bundling you up into her arms, ripping you from sleep, and fleeing to one of the many docks around the city. Your father was nowhere to be seen. You would never see him again.

She taught you about the Seven Pointed Star and the Faith of the Seven on the weeks’ long journey, trying to brace you for the differences that awaited you when you docked in King’s Landing. The only houses you remembered, from her careful drawings on sheets of discarded papyrus in the belly of the ship, were the three headed dragon and the falcon.

“Those are the only two you need anyway,” your mother said with a low, soft laugh.

You just liked that you made her laugh. You hadn’t heard her laugh for almost the entirety of the voyage. But that was quickly wiped away when you moved through the foul-smelling city and into the red fortress that stretched into the sky.

The strange, sharp throne had you frowning as someone in a golden suit of armor announced your mother’s name into the cavernous room. He barely managed to get your name out before a woman who looked so eerily like your mother was sprinting toward you. “Maegelle!” She shouted.

Your mother stretched out her arms and caught the other woman with a strange mix of a cry and a laugh. “Oh, Aemma. It has been far too long.”

The woman—Aemma—pulled back and grasped at your mother’s face with shaking hands. “You haven’t changed at all.” But then her periwinkle eyes moved to you. “Oh!” Tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Your mother reached for you and you readily set your small fingers against her palm. “My little shrike, this is your aunt, Queen Aemma Targaryen.”

You truly did not understand what you and your mother had run from in Lys and the family dynamic you had been thrust into in King’s Landing. But you tried, piecing it together where you could.

Your mother was the twin of Aemma Arryn-Targaryen. The rebellious twin to Aemma’s dutiful and pious counterpart, which was ironic considering your mother was named after your great-aunt Maegelle Targaryen who had become a septa. Your mother had absconded to Lys while their father, Lord Rodrik Arryn, had been distracted by Aemma’s betrothal to Prince Viserys. The Lord of the Eyrie eventually accepted his youngest daughter’s foreign marriage—apparently your birth had softened him to it all.

You were six years younger than your cousin, Princess Rhaenyra, and followed her around the Red Keep endlessly. While you were your mother’s ’little shrike,’ you were Rhaenyra’s ‘little shadow.’ And where Rhaenyra was, Lady Alicent was sure to be.

Your lessons were spent at their sides and you often could be found in one of their chambers, asleep on a small mountain of pillows and blankets at their bedside. They encouraged you to participate in court, visit the city with them, and took you with them whenever they needed adventure away from the shadows of the Red Keep. Alicent took pains to teach you the prayers of the Seven and Rhaenyra, more than once, was half-heartedly scolded by her father for allowing you onto Syrax’s saddle with her as she flew around the city’s limits.

“She is Rhaenyra’s cousin in blood, but her sister by choice,” Aunt Aemma murmured to your mother one day as you broke your fast. You doubted she cared if you heard her, she and your mother were often together, too.

“And little Lady Alicent has gained a sister, too, it seems!” Your mother laughed.

But still, you were not entirely accepted at court. Some of the courtiers called you and your mother the Lysene Dragons. Then came the whispers. You knew your mother was different. Special. You knew it before your lives were upended in Lys. It was something Maegelle wore like armor with her head held high. Her ability to know things, to see things others could not, gave her a power you knew she was trying to pass onto you when you were alone together in her chambers in the quiet of the night. And then there was the fact that you looked more like your father than your mother—still clearly of Valyrian descent (the blood of Old Valyria was thick in Lys) with your silver hair and mauve eyes (a shade you shared with your mother), but just different enough. You were strange in their eyes, too. A little too ready to climb a tree or take your supper plate and eat by yourself in some dark room or to turn around in your horse’s saddle “just to see what it was like.” You preferred silence to idle chatter and had become a terror with a mace in the training grounds as your mother cheered from her perch. Rhaenyra doted on you and delighted in the way you still needed to learn how to hold your tongue with other highborn ladies–calling Lady Reyne a “kitten who assumes she’s a lion” to her face had the princess in stitches for a week. Giggling at inappropriate things had become something else associated with you as your time at court continued (an example of this would be when the King’s Counter was found guilty of stealing from the crown and blubbered for his life in the quiet of the Great Hall—your mother had to drag you out of the hall when your laughter could not cease). Your Lysene background made you an outsider at court, despite being able to prove your Targaryen heritage and the wealth your mother had smuggled out of Lys, but you didn’t particularly care to change anyone’s preconceived beliefs about you.

You delighted in the attentions of your mother, Aemma, Alicent, and Rhaenyra.

The men of court were another matter entirely.

King Viserys and his Hand, Otto Hightower, only served to make you uncomfortable or angry. Or both. You did not particularly care for how Viserys had apparently made Aemma suffer through torturous pregnancies over and over again in his want of a son. Your mother had held Aemma’s hand through her latest miscarriage and explained to you what had happened. Then Lord Otto had sneered at you and your mother when you first arrived but had changed his outward opinion when servants brought trunk after trunk after trunk, filled with gold and jewels, from your ship. He would whisper to the King whenever your mother spoke at dinner, suggesting something or other about the state of the kingdom, and you knew he was undermining her opinions. Prince Daemon was the only one who you marginally liked but he had a horrendous habit of touching your hair even after you and your mother slapped his hands away.

You tried, and you know your mother did as well, to make the Red Keep home. But by the time your first year in its shadows ended, your life was upended again. A blue and white carriage slowed to a stop in front of the fortress as you watched from your chambers a few floors above. You heard whispers whispers whispers of something you didn’t grasp. Something about your mother. Something about you. Something about that other house—House Arryn. But the pieces didn’t fit; you could not solve the puzzle yet.

Then you were alone. Your mother was frequently away behind closed doors and you were shooed away from listening against them whenever you tried.

But soon, both Alicent and Rhaenyra grasped your hands and led you forward as you were called into the Great Hall and you were presented to a frail old man. You curtseyed as Alicent taught you but could not stop the confused frown from pulling at the edges of your mouth as you glanced at your Aunt Aemma and your mother as they stood beside him. What was happening?

His weathered, age-marked hand reached out and the backs of his shaking fingers brushed against your cheek. It could have repulsed you or confused you further. Instead, traitorous tears welled in your eyes.

Your father used to do the same before tucking you into bed at night. Before you left Lys. Before he died. Before you learned your uncle seized control of his late brother’s trade agreements and drove you and your mother from the island. Before.

“My shrike, this is your grandsire, Lord Rodrick Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie.”

You learned that the children Lord Rodrik Arryn had with his first wife all perished, either from sickness, the sea, or the clashes with the Mountain Clans of the Vale. The number of possible heirs dwindled until…there was only you and your mother. As the only known child and grandchild of Rodrik Arryn and Princess Daella Targaryen, Rodrik’s second wife, not in line for the Iron Throne, you were named heir to the Vale of Arryn. You, at the behest of your mother, agreed to be known as an Arryn, instead of your father’s name, to keep the Arryn name alive and settle some of the fears the Valemen had brought before Viserys and Rodrik. Those had been the meetings your mother had weathered behind closed doors, fighting for your place in the line of succession. Instead of the red and black of House Targaryen you had almost become accustomed to wearing, you adopted shades of silver, blue, and white lace. Your obsidian necklaces were locked away and you wore sapphires, pearls, and opals in their place.

And then, with your little heart breaking, you were loaded into that white and blue carriage alongside Lord Arryn and your mother while Aemma, Rhaenyra, and Alicent wiped at their tear stained cheeks from the Keep’s steps.

Your life was out of your control; that was a strange realization for a child to make.

But your grandsire—Rodrik insisted you call him that with a kind smile you could not refuse—was good to you and told you stories of the Vale and the storied history of House Arryn as the road took you further and further from King’s Landing. Your mother also tried to assuage your fears and told you that your chosen sisters and aunt were not leaving your life permanently. “You shall see them again, my shrike. I swear it to you. Your wings have not been clipped.”

When you and your mother were presented to the assembled noble houses of the Vale in the Eyrie’s Crescent Chamber, you could feel their judging eyes moving all over you both. Even after Rodrik gave his personal approval of you and your mother, welcoming his “last daughter, back from her own adventures,” and reading the royal decree King Viserys had drafted, stating you and your mother were the trueborn Arryns you claimed to be, the stares persisted. But their judgment soon turned to awe when your mother presented your grandsire with a Valyrian steel sword, a falchion with ripples of sky blue shining across the blade and a large sapphire embedded in the intricate crossguard. Your mother had taken it from your home in Lys before fleeing to Westeros. It had been your father’s prized possession and Maegelle knew that it would strike at her good-brother’s pride to find it missing. And you surmised that this gift would gain her (and you) the approval of at least some of the lords waiting to discredit your claims to the weirwood throne of the Eyrie. (Several more trunks of gold and jewels adding to the Eyrie’s treasury probably helped, too.)

“A gift for my father,” she announced to the crowd with a knowing smile. “He has long served the Vale faithfully, and has been its greatest defender. He deserves a weapon as unyielding, strong, and just as he is.”

Rodrick took the sword and stood, holding the weapon up for just a moment before setting it aside and hugging your mother with all his strength. The crowd cheered and your mother was quick to tug you into the familial embrace as well. As they broke apart, Rodrick—your grandsire—smiled down at you, his dark eyes clouded with age but kind.

It was only then, as the assembled lords and ladies raised a toast to “Lady Maegelle” and called you “the little Lady Arryn,” did you truly take a breath.

Perhaps this could be home.

The Vale had its charms. The Eyrie had a harsh beauty and your mother was full of smiles as she showed you the fortress’ hidden passages and once helped you retrace the steps she had taken when she had absconded to Lys. While you could still see the sorrow in her eyes whenever she spoke of your father, you could tell that being here, in her childhood home, was some form of comfort for her. And she still took time to teach you all she had learned during her ‘adventures.’ How to cut to prevent death. How to see what the future held with just a drop of blood. How to mix potions to heal, to hurt, to subdue. You knew that most would not understand her. She called herself a healer. She was your hero.

“I’ll not have you defenseless in this world, my shrike.” She said it every night after your private lessons. But after your third year since settling into the chill of the Eyrie, you started to hear a touch of sadness in her voice.

“What ails you, mama?”

Her smile would be sad, too, but she would, without fail, lean down to press a kiss to your forehead as you rested atop your featherbed. “The future is ever shifting. I simply must keep trying.”

However, her smiles grew dimmer when the raven arrived, announcing the tourney King Viserys was hosting to celebrate Aunt Aemma’s pregnancy. “He believes she will give him a son.”

A feeling you were learning to embrace rolled your stomach. “She will,” the words tumbled out of your mouth. You knew them to be true but something else lingered, leaving an unpleasant taste on the back of your tongue, but you could not voice why. You were still learning.

Your mother nodded and set the missive aside before drawing you into her arms. A sigh rattled through her and you felt it shake your hair. “She will.”

Your grandsire could no longer make the journey to King’s Landing but smiled at you and made sure your cloak was tied tightly around your shoulders with a familiar, kind smile. He brushed his fingers against your cheek. “Sweet and safe travels to you, little bird.”

He and your mother spoke in soft tones, too, ending in a tight but gentle hug and your mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. And after the trek down to the carriages, you and the Valemen traveling party departed to the south. The feeling that had rolled your stomach weeks ago only grew stronger as the distance between you and the capital grew smaller. Something was going to happen. Something was in motion. But you did not know what.

Your feeling of ill-ease only subsided marginally when Rhaenyra and Alicent wrapped you in their arms as soon as you stepped out of the carriage. “How you’ve grown!” Alicent said with a smile. “I cannot believe it!”

“The Vale has made a lady of you!” Rhaenyra teased, pulling at the fine lace of your sleeve. “Not a speck of dust on your gown.”

Your mother snorted beside you before stealing a hug from Alicent and Rhaenyra, too. “Give it time; she will find the largest bit of mud and sully it soon enough.”

Your Aunt Aemma was glowing when you saw her in her solar but the feeling came back with a vengeance as she winced, lowering herself onto her settee.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

You had to be all but shoved out of your chambers by your mother in the coming days, introducing you to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon and their beautiful children, and then telling you to enjoy your time with Alicent and Rhaenyra at the tourney. And you tried your best, you did, and cheered beside them, even if they were cheering for Daemon as he rose through the ranks. Rhaenyra also seemed interested in the common born Dornishman. Cole, you think his name was.

Your eye was drawn to a different figure. Tall, broad, with curling brown hair peeking beneath his helm.

“And who has you looking like a doe?” Rhaenyra mused beside you.

“No one.”

“Has someone caught her attention?” Alicent asked from Rhaenyra’s side.

“No!” You groused, wanting your seat to open up and swallow you whole. This was not attention you liked. Now, you were not new to thinking a person attractive. There was a knight at the Eyrie who often had heat inching its way up your throat whenever he looked at you. But acting on it or your attentions being noticed were beyond your experience. Your companions might have plied you with stories of love and courtship, and your mother used to tell you the long, beautiful story of how your father earned her love and devotion, but this was frightening to you.

Undeterred, Rhaenyra turned and tried to follow your line of sight and you knew she found her mark when her smirk widened. “Ah, I believe I know who has captured our little shadow’s heart.”

“Who? Point him out to me!” Alicent leaned closer to Rhaenyra and you pondered getting up and leaving as Rhaenyra did actually point out the burly man who just removed his helm and your poor heart shot up into your throat as you got a clear look at his handsome face. “Oh, that’s Ser Harwin Strong.” Alicent looked around Rhaenyra to smile at you. “A fine choice.” “Enough,” you said, pouting.

The pair eventually relented and watched the rest of the tourney. You noticed Alicent had not ceased her habit of picking at the edges of her nail bed but the moment Rhaenyra placed her hand over hers, she stopped. The simple moment had you smiling. Their bond was special. Sometimes you felt like you were intruding on them, interrupting something you should not be privy to, gentle and warm. But it was not your place to question it. You simply wanted them to be happy.

“Ah! My nieces!”

You scowled at the sound of Daemon’s voice as he approached your box and the fact that he called you a niece—you were not his niece. His presence was still irksome and annoying. Listening to him was a chore so you found a spot across the tourney grounds—and no it was not Ser Harwin—to focus on so you could not listen to him wax poetic about his own prowess. It was only when both Rhaenyra and Alicent stood and you watched Alicent grant him his favor did you start to pay attention again. You could not stop the roll of your eyes—he was not subtle in his distaste for Otto and you knew that his mostly-harmless flirting with Alicent was a ploy. You also found his strange obsession with Rhaenyra uncomfortable. You hoped her attentions toward him would wane eventually.

“He’s going to lose,” you said as they retook their seats.

Rhaenyra nudged you with her elbow. “You are incorrigible. What has Uncle Daemon done to gain your ire?”

“He exists. But to be true, he is the least vexing of the men here.”

“I am sure you would not find Ser Harwin vexing.”

“Alicent!”

The pair giggled at your embarrassment but it soon ended when, indeed, Prince Daemon lost to Cole. But the smile you let press at your mouth withered as that creeping feeling once again started to bite at the back of your mind.

It would not be until you three arrived back at the Red Keep did you understand why that feeling had come so swiftly.

Your mother sat on her knees in the hall outside Aemma’s chambers. Her hands had been beaten raw, like she’d been beating at the door for hours. “She’s gone,” she whispered. “She’s gone.”

You learned that the Kingsguard had kept your mother from being at Aemma’s side during the birth, no matter how hard she fought. You would never forget how your mother raged at Viserys when you saw him next. In perfect High Valyrian, she cursed him as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You killed her! You did this! You kept me from her and her blood is on your hands—on your soul! You will feel it on you with every breath you take until you breathe your last! I could have saved her and you cut her open like a brute! Did you think I could not hear her calling for me? Did you think I did not hear her begging for you to not cut her? I will never forgive you!”

The funeral for both Aemma and little Baelon was a blurred memory for you. You remembered the warmth of the dragon’s flame as Syrax’s fire lit the pyre. You remembered how Rhaenyra shuddered with sobs in your hold. You remembered how your mother offered her a place at the Eyrie if she ever would want it. And you remembered the cold, calculating look in Otto’s eyes.

The moment the carriage door closed behind you, you wanted to open it again and run to Rhaenyra’s side, to comfort her, to hold her. But the most you could do was hope she would take your mother up on her offer of visiting the Eyrie. Every night on the way back to the Vale, you dreamt of your Aunt Aemma. She was always quiet and she would always press her hand to your face with a sad smile. When you woke, you would you feel the warmth of her touch against your skin. And every morning, your mother would hold your face the exact same way. It almost felt like Aemma was comforting you both.

And by the time you reached the Vale, you understood why.

Your grandsire was dead. He had taken his final breaths the night before you arrived. Your tears from the loss of your aunt turned to rage at the loss of your grandsire. Then the tears came again while the anger waited in the shadows of your heart. The only outlet you had was your mace and you took your rage out on the dark, spindly trees of the Eyrie’s garden, leaving them broken and shattered. Large chunks were missing from the bigger trunks, a testament to your wrath and ruin. But even as your energy waned, you sobbed in the shadows. Most left you alone, only your mother braved your presence while in the garden. She sat in silence upon a stone bench, listening to your destruction as she tilted her head up to feel the sunlight on her skin. It was like she was breathing through your wrath with you. She often cried at night, when she probably thought you could not hear her—or perhaps that was when she could no longer bear to hold her tears back. Either way, you often crept into her chambers and snuggled against her side beneath her warm blankets as you held each other until sleep took you both.

The grip your mother had on you as your grandsire was interred in the Arryn crypts was only mirrored by your grip on her. Tight and unwavering. You had each other. That would have to be enough.

Your mother became the Lady of the Eyrie and you were at her side when the assorted lords and ladies of the Vale swore their allegiance and she took her place atop the weirwood throne, Thorn drawn over her lap. Things had changed. Your rage simmered but never truly dissipated. Your tears still stung but slowly ebbed. Your mother settled into her duties and something settled behind your bones as you watched her hold court—she made sure you were at her side whenever possible, learning everything you could and listening to your admittedly unlearned ideas and slowly turning them toward something more suitable or palatable.

Your mother and her court were once again called to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Rhaenyra when she was named heir to the Iron Throne, and you found a bit of respite in your continued companionship with Alicent and the new Crown Princess. Watching Alicent ready Rhaenyra for her investiture had something stirring in your chest, the gentle touches, the unspoken looks between them. You did not know the words for it, but you knew they found comfort within each other. But soon you were called back to the Vale, your time cut short by your and your mother’s duties.

The moons came and went and your ravens to and from King’s Landing persisted, too. It was a balm to you to have Rhaenyra and Alicent’s friendship in your pocket, but even through their writings, you knew something had become…undone between them. Terrible understanding dawned on you when the raven from the capital arrived, inviting you and your mother to the wedding of Alicent and Viserys.

“This is an outrage!” Yorbert Royce exclaimed, his anger pooling in red splotches across his nose. “Queen Aemma has not yet been in her grave a year!”

Your mother raised a hand from her perch on her weirwood throne to quiet his outburst before tossing the missive away. It flittered down lazily before being scooped up by one of her handmaidens and quickly set alight. “It warms my heart to know that you feel the loss of my sister Aemma as I do, Lord Royce.” She kept her voice even but you could feel the hurt in each syllable. “I, too, view this as a grave strike against House Arryn and the Vale itself. While I will not begrudge any houses that wish to attend the festivities, my daughter and I will not be in attendance.”

And that was that. You would not speak out against your mother. In truth, you did not understand why Alicent, of all people, had been taken to wife by the king.

Your mother came into your chambers that night and explained it to you as your handmaidens readied you for bed. They had come with you from Lys, and you knew you and your mother could speak freely (in the Lysene dialect of Valyrian) in their presence.

“Did she not have care for Rhaenyra’s feelings?” You asked as lavender oil was rubbed into your skin. “Or of ours?”

Your mother hummed and leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers in her lap. “Do not blame Alicent, my little shrike. I have no doubt she had little choice in this matter. You know her father, that snake Otto, has high aspirations for himself and his bloodline. I would not be surprised if this was all his doing. Lady Alicent has always been nothing more than a pawn in his game. It is a cruel thing, a fate many girls are relegated to because they were not born boys.” She reached out and traced a finger down your nose. “I would, in my heart of hearts, not believe that Alicent wanted this. But I am sure Rhaenyra feels differently.” When you were finally ready for bed, she lifted the blankets of your featherbed around your shoulders, trying to press into your mind the politics of marriages between the highborn families of Westeros. She finished with, “We mustn’t judge them, either of them. It is better to be allied with them both.” She spoke a little longer of how both Alicent and Rhaenyra were in fragile positions of power but were more than likely more isolated than they ever had been before. She wished you good night, suggesting you write to both of them at first light, and strode toward the door.

“Will I be made to marry someone for advantage?” You asked, half dreading the answer.

Your mother paused, the light behind her making her look like a goddess cloaked in shadow. “We are the ladies of the Vale, my shrike. Our place in this kingdom is powerful but precarious. And I…” Her words trailed off. “Your future is clouded from me.” That simple, strange sentence struck at your marrow. How could she not know? Your mother knew everything, did she not? “But I promise you, I will do all I can to protect you and your heart. I’ll not have you moved about the board without your consent.”

The years slipped by. You kept your correspondence with both Rhaenyra and Alicent, still finding friendship with both of them, despite seeing their own relationship grow more and more strained from leagues away, piecing together its crumbling from anecdotes they slipped into their missives. You wished you could mend it, have them come back together. There was love there. You knew it now. And there could be again.

Your time was filled with learning at your mother’s side. While she had history within the Vale and had shadowed your grandfather when he still ruled, she had also played the great game while in Lys. She knew how to play the part of conciliator and of peacemaker while also not allowing certain concessions of her own power or boundaries. She did send men to aid in Lord Corlys’ war against the triarchy, but only those who volunteered; most came from the islands of the Three Sisters, eager and willing for a naval battle. This allowed her to retain a mostly neutral stance with the Crown while also encouraging close ties with House Velaryon (and Daemon, but that was beside the point).

Your mother’s personal sigil, of a falcon with dragon wings was probably her one acknowledgement of your nicknames: the Dragons of the Vale. At least they were not referring to your Lysene heritage as an insult anymore. You learnt much and more. How to be hard but forgiving. Soft yet unforgetting. “Never forget a slight, my shrike, but forgive those who genuinely ask for it.” But she also knew when to strike when she knew her perceived enemy felt safe and at a point she knew it would hurt the most. On the second anniversary of your aunt’s death, your mother told Viserys that she had set aside Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea Royce. My sister would not have her childhood home and allies left wanting with unfulfilled marriages. I’m sure she would help you understand if she were still with us. The raven with the crown’s approval arrived less than a fortnight later. You hoped you would one day be as respected as she was—but would happily wait years for that to come to pass.

Lady Rhea was more than pleased with the arrangement and you knew her and her bannermen were thankful to not have Daemon darken their doorstep again. You attended the wedding between Lady Rhea and a handsome second son from House Redfort as your mother’s envoy as she was preoccupied with dealing with the Mountain Clans attack on the High Road. You did not mind acting as the envoy for House Arryn. It was your duty, after all. But it could be lonely, at times. It was not uncommon for you to hear whispers about your mother’s reputation and ‘what she kept in her shadows’ and the wagers about if you were as so inclined as she. But you smiled prettily, danced with most everyone who asked, and mediated disputes when you thought it appropriate, trying to remember how your mother would speak to her bannermen. These would be your people to lead one day. Your secrets were your own, as were your mother’s.

And you were getting stronger by the day.

“Do you think it is true that they bathe in blood to retain their beauty?” Someone asked, the question only slightly muted to your ears over the wedding festivities. You did not deign it of high enough import to turn and see who was speaking—you’d heard all this before. “Do not be ridiculous!” Another hissed their reply.

“No, tis an honest question. They are more dragon than falcon anyway–at least the little one is.”

There was an answering grumble. “I have seen the little one go to the sept every morning to pray.” Of course someone spotted you going into the sept to pray; you made sure to go when the more pious amongst your group would also be in attendance. It was an easy ploy your mother suggested. “It would be best if you left your tall tales to the fool, no? Our ladies have been kind and fair to those who deserve it. They have been fine successors to Old Lord Rodrick.”

There was a pause before, “House Upcliff is eager for an audience with them.”

“Everyone is eager for an audience!”

Ridiculous.

It was also not surprising that several houses used opportunities like this to present their sons as possible matches to you. It felt more than a little underhanded when it happened without your mother around, but your handmaidens and sworn shield, Ser Oswin Melcolm, did help to make you feel secure enough to politely refuse to make a decision on your own. You would not overstep your mother’s authority.

It was a reprieve when you finally stepped back into the cold shadows of the Eyrie a moon later, home at last. You needed a scalding bath and a hug from your mother. It felt like you could breathe again when you smelt her spiced perfume and she giggled with you as the moon rose high in the sky, both of you recounting your assorted adventures.

The next morn, a raven was waiting for you, stamped with the seal of House Targaryen, just as your mother had one waiting for her, stamped with the seal of House Velaryon–it was probably from Princess Rhaenys, they had kept a correspondence since the tourney. You read yours as you broke your fast.

“Who has written to you, my shrike?” Your mother asked, plucking a plum from the assortment of fruit in front of you.

“Rhaenyra is going on a tour to find a husband, by order of the king,” you said, handing the missive to her with a sigh.

Your mother’s mauve eyes quickly skimmed the princess’ words and she hummed as she handed it back to you. “You should accompany her.”

You choked on the next bite of porridge. “I-what?”

She patted your back with a knowing smile. “Your cousin feels alone, and despite your best efforts at hiding it, I know you miss her. She needs you just as you need her. Perhaps you can help her through this new trial.”

So far, the entire tour had been a farce. A near-permanent scowl was slapped across Rhaenyra’s face since you and your miniscule traveling party met her and her entourage on the King’s Road on the way to the Reach. By the time you had finished (and failed) through the Riverlands, you finally found the courage to speak to Rhaenyra about what your mother had said.

It did not go well and you spent the morning trying to get her to speak to you at all with little success. But you needed to help her see Alicent’s impossible choice and the whole of the situation in how it related to her; both the lucky and the unfortunate. So, you tried again.

The carriage rocked and you slid on the seat with a huff. “I am only trying to say that you are in a unique situation, Rhaenyra. So few women have the opportunity you have been given. To pick your husband—to make your own decision—it is a victory for you. Your father could have chosen the old Lord Fossoway or, Seven forbid, Dalton Greyjoy and marched you into the sept kicking and screaming and said it was for the good of the Realm.”

“Am I still supposed to be happy about this?” She bit out, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from you. “No one is demanding you marry.”

“But they will. My mother and I know our grasp on the Vale is tenuous. If there was a way for us to solidify it, I would have to accept. I do not have a dragon. I cannot hold my position by myself. I am not a Targaryen-”

“You are!”

“-so I am resigned to whatever Valeman has the best suit.” You sighed and eyed your cousin carefully. “In this world, in this kingdom, women have so few freedoms. My mother gained the ire of King Jaehaerys by marrying for love. I am to be her only child, the maesters confirmed it and that is a solace to me because I know the love and loss of my father cracked at something deep inside her that cannot be healed. If she were able to bear more children, she would undoubtedly be forced to marry and have more children and that would harm her in a way that I…” the words trailed off for a moment and you tried to collect yourself. “I do not wish to think of it. But now you have the freedom of choice, of finding your own love, with your king and father’s blessing. Do not squander it, Rhaenyra. Do you think Alicent truly wanted to marry your father?”

Rhaenyra’s head snapped to the side quickly, eyes narrowed and angry. “She is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I should have seen her ploy-”

You tried to resist the roll of your eyes as you should have seen this argument waiting. “Her ploy? Or her father’s? You know Alicent. Despite the anger you feel now, you know in your heart of hearts that your friend would not betray you like this without some outside machinations forcing her hand. Was it not you both who would read me tales of dashing knights and maidens? Stories about love?”

“We were children.”

“She was barely a woman grown when she married your father. Is that who you would have given her? A man with power, true. But a man old enough to be her father? Who does only wish for more heirs?”

The princess was quiet for a moment before turning to stare out the window again. “That matters little now,” she grumbled. “She has her crown and my father has a son.”

The conversation fizzled out after that and you knew not to press it again today. You were thankful she seemed content to speak with you about anything else and she was happy to hear about your adventures in the Vale.

It was not until you were ripped from sleep later that night did you realize that Rhaenyra was not finished with the conversation as you had thought.

“What if you did have a dragon?” Rhaenyra asked, standing in the doorway of your room at the inn. Ser Oswin caught your eye over her shoulder and winced, apologetic.

Your face scrunched in confusion, still half-asleep. “What?”

“What if you did have a dragon? Would you still think you had to marry someone your Valemen picked for you?” Rhaenyra strode over to your bed and held both of your hands between hers as you sat up atop the featherbed. “I…I don’t want that for you. I want you happy, not trapped. If you feel a dragon will give you that freedom, I will give it to you.”

You searched her face, eyes still blurry with your interrupted sleep. Determination, bordering on desperation, was pinching at the corners of her beautiful face. You had not seen her like this before and it was more than enough to wake you up completely. You sat straighter and moved your hands just enough to lace your fingers with hers, holding her hands as she used to do when you were a child. This felt different. Not like when she comforted you as you longed for Lys and your father years ago. This was something fracturing beneath the surface. Or starting to roar with life. You needed to tread carefully. “Your offer is more than generous, Rhaenyra, and I’ll never be able to thank you for extending it to me. But, I am not a Targaryen.”

The Crown Princess shook her head. “You are. You are the Blood of the Old Valyria and you could forge your own path; be the dragon of the Vale! Do not let the whims of men dictate the rest of your life.”

Her grip tightened until it was near painful but you did not pull away, could not. Her violet eyes said more, pleading and searching. It took you only a moment to realize that she was speaking about herself as much as she was to you. She needed freedom and comfort and power and security. A dichotomy atop dichotomy. This was a turning point for her. For you. Something settled around your shoulders then as you looked into her eyes again. “This will brand me as overly ambitious and you as-”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I shall do as I please. I am to make allies, am I not? You are of my mother’s kin, my blood.” She tilted her chin up, just so, and she was every inch a Valyrian Princess in that moment. You almost giggled. Her mind was made up.

And so was yours. “Then allies you should make. Find eggs for your half-siblings. They are your kin as well.” Rhaenyra nearly pulled away from you but you held her firmly in your grasp. “They will be used against you if you do not welcome them; you and I both know this. The House of the Dragon must remain as one. Be smart, Rhaenyra. Give them reasons to love you. They are children.”

“They-”

“Did not ask to be born. But you have the power now. Be open handed with it. Otto will surely try to have Aegon be named heir but Alicent, despite what you think of her, has advocated for you. Not her son. You.”

“How do you know this?”

“She has told me herself and Ser Harrold has confirmed it,” you said, mentioning the knight of the Kingsguard whom Rhaenyra trusted. You had spoken with him just that morning. “He has heard them speaking of it frequently.”

Her hands shook in yours. The purple of her eyes was clouded with something—almost like relief, almost like heartache. “Oh.”

When she took her seat upon the throne of Storm's End, you held your breath as the first suitor came forward, half expecting Rhaenyra to be as disinterested as she had been before. But something changed when Willem Blackwood stepped forward. Of course, one could make the argument that the princess’ mind changed when Willem drew his sword after being insulted by the Bracken suitor.

“He’s bold,” Rhaenyra said, looking over her shoulder as Ser Criston pulled her away from the clash.

While he was decidedly the smaller of the two, Willem bested the Bracken, leaving him bloody and clutching his nearly severed arm within a few moments. That boldness led to Rhaenyra walking with him through the fortress’ godswood on an unusually sunny day as you and Ser Criston chaperoned them from a few paces back. Rhaenyra was happy. And Willem was smitten.

“What do you think love feels like?” Rhaenyra asked as she slithered under the blankets of your bed that night.

You hummed, fiddling with the end of her braid. “Mother said that her love with Father was quiet. Calm.” She had told you countless times about her long courtship with him, scandalous as it might have been seen by Westerosi highborn or not. She was always happy when she spoke of him. Her smile might have been tinged with bittersweetness, but the love remained. “He felt like a long night’s rest, is what she used to tell me.”

Rhaenyra was quiet for a moment. “I used to think that love had to be loud or fiery.” She paused again. If you were as willfully ignorant as Viserys, you would have no inkling that she was thinking of Daemon at that moment, but her face shuttered and she inched closer to you. “I want to be happy.”

Turning to fully face her, you linked your fingers with hers beneath the blankets. The thrumming you felt beneath your skin had your next breath stalling in your throat. You had not yet learned how to discern people’s future’s clearly, as your mother had. But you still knew that Rhaenyra was at a crossroads. “You deserve to be happy,” you whispered the words to her, hoping she knew what you meant.

This was an incredibly stupid idea. It was probably some of the most fun you had ever had. But that did not mean it was not stupid.

Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand was tight as she led you down into the caverns around the Dragonmont. How you’d convinced Ser Criston and Ser Oswin to accompany you to Dragonstone you’d never know but the princess was convincing despite the continuing conflict with the Crabfeeder in the Stepstones just a few leagues away. Her tentative betrothed, Lord Willem, had been sent back to Raventree Hall to ready for his and his family’s travels to the capital to meet with Viserys. “If you do not feel compelled by any of the eggs here, we shall try again at the pit when we return to the capital.” She said it so breezily that you had to laugh. Claiming a dragon like this felt like treason. It probably was treason but you were not going to tell Rhaenyra no. At least not outwardly.

And what if you did claim a dragon? Could you really be seen as strong enough to evade an unwanted betrothal? Would you become strong enough to truly solidify your and your mother’s place as the Ladies of the Eyrie? A warm rush filled your chest and continued to grow with each step you took. You could not refuse her. Or yourself. But you knew this was an impossibility. You could not have a dragon. You were a falcon, an Arryn.

And, anyway, with each small clutch you looked over, warm and glittering, you did not feel a pull as Rhaenyra said you should. However, you helped Rhaenyra pick four eggs out for her siblings.

“You only have two right now.”

She shrugged and held up a blue egg, flecked with bronze, toward one of the torches bolted to the mountain’s cavernous wall. She turned it one way and then another before handing it to the keeper who had accompanied you down with a pleased nod. “I have come to realize that my father believes he must be as fruitful as Jaehaerys. My mother paid the price for it.”

The casual way she said it felt almost like a slap. But you could not stop the smile from pushing at your mouth anyway. The topic of her father had been carefully avoided by you and your mother, knowing Rhaenyra loved him, but her realizing his faults on her own was an entirely different matter. But still, you said nothing, and held up a yellow and crimson colored egg which she scowled at. You held onto it anyway.

Three more eggs later, you were still without one of your own and that was almost a relief. There was an attempt on your part to go and indulge Rhaenyra’s attempt at helping you. That was all you could do. Your small party turned to leave the cavern and you made it all but three steps before the Keeper thrust out his arm, keeping you and Rhaenyra behind him.

“Princess, my lady, do not move.”

Of course, both you and Rhaenyra did anyway and your heart leapt into your throat the moment you set your gaze on what had frightened the Keeper so. The dragon was massive and the color of a starless sky, aside from the mottled grey of the deep scars stretching across his snout and down its wiry neck. Two large horns curled back from above his brow and a mess of smaller spikes and spines littered their way down his back. Eyes the color of emeralds set above a roaring fire were anchored firmly on your group.

“The Cannibal,” Rhaenyra whispered, awestruck or terrified.

You could not truly hear her anyway. Your blood had turned molten in your veins as your heart thudded a heavy beat against your ribs.

This was your dragon.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[mitsuriwritessmut]

Sukuna's Temptation

I have changed some part of the story according to my preference, as it is based on my perspective. It's just a fiction and i ain't following the arcs/actions/happenings of the manga.

Part-2

Characters involved :- Ryomen sukuna/reader🦋

( reader seduces sukuna, uses of abusive words, small amount of sex#al actions, Smut would be in the part 2 )

Heian era period

Sorcerers were fighting The king of curses "sukuna" all by themselves. Sukuna has attacked

The village again due to the rebellion of the village people against him.

Backstory :-

Few sorcerers entered this infamous Rich village only to know that, this village was living under the terror of sukuna and they are forced to send sacrifices to sukuna as he is their "king". The village was rich and prosperous only because sukuna favoured them. And that's why the villagers weren't ready to rebel against sukuna. The sorcerers couldn't accept that women were getting sacrificed every month just for the village to stay alive. The sorcerers managed to give hopes to the villagers somehow and assured them that they would defeat sukuna and give them back their freedom. But in order to defeat Sukuna they must bring sukuna here out of his hideout. Nobody knew where he lived, so to do it so, the ritual of sacrifices must be stopped, that would cause sukuna to notice it. And then.. sukuna would come to check it.

This was the plan of the sorcerers. Little they knew about the power difference between them and the "King of curses".

Present time -

Sorcerers were dying one by one. Sukuna was walking on their body as if they were some sacks of rice. Half of the population in the village vanished within 2 seconds. Rest of remaining ones were bowing and begging "him" to stop, to show mercy on them. The leftover sorcerers even started to begg, they lost their pride, the greed to live was now controlling their minds, as they knew.. it was death who was standing infront of them. The death was dressed as the king of curses.

Sukuna :- you, filthy ungrateful creatures sought to rebel against me? ( Disbelief)

Villagers:- i-i-t wasn't us my lord.. th-this sorcerers were fueling us.. they-They blackmai- us ( incoherent cries and begging)

Sukuna looked over to the dead bodies of the sorcerers. A slight feeling of pride entering his body as he took a good look of this sight.

Sukuna:- 70 sorcerers.. hah. 70 sorcerers came to fight me and.. died within 5 mins. ( Smirks)

Villagers:- we- we shall follow your command my lord. Please forgive our sin. You shall take anything from us, but just let us live my lord. We will never ever think of committing such a sin again my lord. If any of us even thinks of doing such sin, we shall cut their head and send it to you my lord.

Sukuna:- oh my! You seem to be great at giving assurance hah? ( Looks at them with an amused look) I see. Fine.. i shall forgive you all~ bu-

Sukuna's sentence was cutt off in between by the sudden entry of the woman, who lunged at sukuna hitting him with a powerful cursed energy infused kick on his back. The villagers were shocked, their eyes almost gauging out of their sockets. They couldn't believe a human.. moreover a woman having the guts to attack him.

Sukuna was taken back.. he made sure he killed all sorcerers right? Then how come 1 survive, and how did he not feel his presence? He got up from the ground asap to turn around and see... A woman?

His eyes were... Wide open as if stucked.

" not just a woman, this one was.. intriguing" he smirked at his thought

Sukuna:- my my, the audacity you had little mortal. Tell me, you really think you can fight against me?

( looking at her body up & down )

Y/n:- bow down and leave before I cut you into pieces and feed you to the hyenas you insignificant creature!

Sukuna:- ( amused) oh my my... Look at the little mouse. Ain't your words much bigger then your whole body? Speaking alot more then your capacity hah? ( Grins) well then.. I shall slit that mouth of yours right now to.. remind you how to talk with someone superior (smirks)

Sukuna lunges towards y/n, he was all ready to slash her. Y/n dodged easily and stood behind him, she wrapped her legs and used one of his four arms to stabilise herself. She grabbed his neck and started to place little kitten licks on his neck. Sukuna froze at the moment he felt the wetness of her tongue. His body giving up. He felt the touch of plenty of women.. but.. this woman.. was intriguing him, luring him, and moreover even rebelling against him to fighting him.. and now? Now seducing him in the middle of the fight? Thoughts occupied his mind. He was lost into the pleasure of feeling her tongue. He groaned in satisfaction. His hands finding her to pull her infront of him. Y/n still didn't leave licking his neck, she still kept on sucking and licking his jawline, to neck, to his collarbone. He was just groaning. The villagers were in shock to see such a lewd scene. They began to talk and whisper amongst themselves which brought sukuna back to reality. He pushed y/n off his embrace, causing her fly over quite far.

Sukuna:- think you can use your body to lure me? You stink, fukin whore. Not even my lowest level of curses would want your loose stinky pussy ( furious yet disappointed that the pleasure was taken from him )

Y/n:- is that so? ( Smirks) then why were you groaning my little babyy ? ( Taunts)

Sukuna was taken a back. His pride was hurt. His ego was trembling. Sukuna lunged towards her again aiming at her mouth to slash. She dodged again but this time.. she landed a hard kick on his head. Sukuna's fighting technique was deteriorating due to his mind filling with lust and desparation for this unknown woman and at the same time his pride and ego being hurt.

Sukuna was about to stand up but y/n sat on his back.

( like this lmao 🤣)

Backstory of Y/n :-

she was a sorcerer but her curse energy wasn't high, so due to being weak she used her body to seduce and lure so that she would get some time to find the weak spots of her enemies and hit on it on the right time. For her survival she had chosen this path, she was a resident of this village and she was against the process of sacrifices. To end this terror of sukuna, she finally managed her guts and will power to fight him she knows that she can't defeat him. But she is buying some time as her fellow sorcerers will arrive anytime soon in the village to help her. That's why, she is trying her best to seduce him and keep him intrigued on her. )

Y/n began her seduction tricks on him. She scratched on sukuna's kimono resulting his kimono to shred into few pieces. She began to lick on his ear.. " don't you want me.. my king?"

End of this chapter. Next chapter coming soon.

[teapartyprincess4two]

II. Powerful

classification: angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n

PREV, NEXT

—

Every year the social season manages to drain you beyond belief. When your mother was still alive, she’d flaunt you in front of every eligible bachelor in Solara in hopes that you’d find your one true love and produce an heir.

Courting was an easy enough process, a process that perhaps you would’ve enjoyed if you weren’t royalty. Your mother always managed to exhaust you with the same words, “A Queen is only as powerful as her King.”

To this day, even after her passing, those words cause your eyes to roll so far back into your head it’s a wonder how they don’t fall out. So much hypocrisy was laced within those words, especially coming from a woman who ruled without a king for decades.

You were powerful with or without a king, that you were certain of. If your mother was able to do it while raising two daughters, you’d surely manage now that your sister was entering the cusp of adulthood.

This year Selma has made her debut into society, a milestone she’s had her sights on for quite some time now.

Selma, unlike you, believes in romance and love. She’s extremely determined to find a husband who’ll bring her butterflies, write her love letters, and take her for who she is.

Every eligible bachelor has come knocking at the castle door in hopes of impressing Selma enough to make it out with her hand in marriage.

Yesterday, she was kept busy entertaining possible suitors in the tea room, and today wasn’t any different. Of course, you could’ve sent Martina to chaperone her, but you’d be damned if your sister gave herself away to anyone less than worthy.

The sound of Martina’s heels clicking against marble flooring becomes louder as she nears the tea room. Her small figure comes into view, bringing your attention from the letters and feather quills on your desk to the door frame. You’re fully expecting her to announce the arrival of another one of Selma’s callers, but her next words surprise you.

“You have a visitor, Your Highness. It is a…” she says, pausing to read from a small piece of paper, “…a Lord Sturniolo.”

Apprehensively, you gather your papers and send Selma, who sits on a nearby couch reading a book, an inquisitive look.

“Have you been courting a Lord Sturniolo, Selma?” You ask, filtering through a mental list of eligible bachelors in hopes of putting a face to the name.

“With you as a sister it’s hard to believe I’ve been courted at all,” Selma replies sarcastically.

Just as you’re about to quip back with a smart remark, Martina interrupts. “He claims to be a visitor, Your Highness.” She places special emphasis on ‘visitor,’ but you’re still not sure what to make of it.

“Martina, you know how I feel about visitors during the social season. If they haven’t been invited, please turn them away,” you say as you stand from your seat and walk closer to your sister.

“Oh, please! Don’t be so hardened, sister. Surely this…” Selma pauses and looks towards Martina for a moment.

“Lord Sturniolo.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you Martina,” Selma turns back to face you, “Surely this Lord Sturniolo is here to deliver some important news. Perhaps it is exciting news. Maybe even life changing!”

You roll your eyes, Selma always tried to make you see the light in a world full of darkness. She was too naive for her own good.

“Either way, I do not enjoy receiving unannounced and uninvited visitors,” you reply.

Martina speaks again, “I’m sorry, ma’am. He said the visit would be quick, but it did seem important. I can turn him away if you’d prefer it?”

A sigh falls past your lips. How rude would you be if you turned away a visitor, a lord at that? Sure, you had the respect that came with wearing a bejeweled crown on your head, but humility was still your strong suit.

“No, that won’t be necessary. You can send him in.”

As soon as you give her the confirmation, Martina turns on her heels and flutters out of the room quickly like a busy honeybee.

You’re anxious, mostly because you know this visitor will be looking at you as some sort of authority, but also because you’re not sure what would warrant such an unexpected visit. Selma stands next to you, looping an arm around yours in solidarity, and working towards soothing your nerves with kind words.

“Be calm, sister. I’m here with you.” You exhale deeply, immediately feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

“Thank you, Selma. I’d be lost without you.”

The sound of metal clanging becomes louder as the unknown man approaches the tea room, accompanied by the all too familiar sound of Martina’s clacking heels.

A man with long black hair enters the room, his silver armor shining brightly against the sunlight that illuminates the room. His sword is tucked away in its respective sheath and his helmet is tucked under his arm.

He’s quick to show his respect with a bow. He faces you first, “Your majesty.”

You return the sentiment with a curtsy, “Lord Sturniolo.”

“Princess Selma.” He bows in front of your sister as well, and you swear she almost swoons and faints as she begins to curtsy.

“Quite a beautiful estate you two share. Quite a beautiful country, actually,” he comments, eyes dancing over Selma’s figure a little too long. Selma must like the attention because her cheeks turn a rosy red and her eyelashes bat until she’s almost fluttering away.

“Thank you, My Lord. Kind words go a long way in Solara,” Selma says.

You clear your throat. “To what do we the owe the pleasure of this visit, Lord Sturniolo?”

“Yes, My Lord. Are you not aware that it is calling hour?” Selma asks, taking a flirtatious tone.

Selma’s playing all of her cards. You see it in the way she bats her eyes.

Maybe it’s because you’re her older sister, and the Queen at that, but you cringe. You can’t suppress the awkward, interrupting cough no matter how hard you try. And you definitely can’t escape the cold glare she sends your way.

Chris sends Selma a smirk, before returning his attention to you. “I was not aware that it is calling hour. Had I known, I would’ve made this trip on pleasure instead of business.”

Chris pulls a letter out, “I’ve come to deliver an invitation. My older brother is to be crowned in a week time.”

Your take the letter, delicate fingers peeling it open. “Thank you for your kind gesture, Lord Sturniolo. I will hand this over to the councilmen and have them arrange everything immediately.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you for receiving me,” an awkward pause interrupts him mid sentence as he debates whether or not to ask to stay. Chris debates against it when he notices the impatient expression that paints your face. “I think I should be on my way now if I’d like to make it home before morning.”

He bows, looking Selma up and down one last time before turning on his heels. One of his hands tussles through his long hair, slicking it back before throwing on his helmet.

Selma points at him with her eyes, silently begging for you to ask him to stay. ‘No,’ you mouth, sending her a stern look.

But even the Queen has a weakness.

“Please, sister,” she begs almost inaudibly. Her big doe eyes glisten as her bottom lip juts out. *1

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes.

Just as Chris is about to exit the room, you stop him. “Wait, Lord Sturniolo. Stay and join us tonight for dinner. I’ll have the cooks prepare something special for tonight, you must be hungry after your journey.”

Chris smiles, he was hungry actually.

“Thank you, Your Highness. A warm meal would do me good.” His voice is muffled behind the helmet, but his gratitude is evident regardless.

—

Silver cutlery dances along your plate as you engage in light conversation with your sister and Chris. It’s not like Selma’s flirting will let you ask Chris any meaningful questions.

You hate to play the ‘older sister/ Queen’ card, but Selma’s flirting is getting out of hand and you have a multitude of doubts swirling in your mind.

“If I may ask My Lord, do they make a habit of sending you to deliver messages in Eclipsum?” Selma asks as she digs her knife into a particularly tough piece of meat.

Chris is mid bite. Throughout the entire meal, he’s struggled to balance his hunger with his desire to chat your sister up. So far, he’s remained hungry.

He swallows dryly, a calloused hand begging for patience.

“Eclipsum’s undergoing a necessary change at the moment, Princess. I’m not usually in charge of delivering messages, but when they’re as important as this one, the future King trusts no one other than me,” he replies, immediately returning to the food in front of him.

Selma is ready with a reply, but if you want to take any part of in this conversation then you need to cut in as soon as possible. So you do, “Why is this message so important, My Lord? I take it your brother’s coronation was announced long before the social season began.”

“Yes, well that was my eldest brother Nick,” he replies mindlessly through mouthfuls of food.

Curious about what he means, you press further. “Is it not the eldest brother who inherits the crown?”

Chris coughs, trying to stop himself from choking on his food as he realizes what he just let slip. You can tell he’s becoming nervous, but the truth will come out eventually.

“Yes, well… you see,” Chris takes a deep breath, looking up at you through the hair that falls over his eyes. He places his utensils on the table, racking his brain for the correct response.

“You see, Your Highness, complications have risen in Eclipsum. I cannot go into too much detail, but I can say that the crown has since been inherited by my second eldest brother.”

Selma looks just as shocked as you.

“May I ask why the invitation was extended to us, My Lord? Solara and Eclipsum have never been necessarily involved when it comes to these matters,” Selma chimes in.

“Powerful countries must form alliances should they want to remain powerful,” Chris replies, offering you and Selma a quick smile before digging back into his meal.

—

Crashing waves are heard from the Eclipsum shore, a fog forming as the water slaps against the muddy sand. The sun is setting, slowly disappearing past the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful shade of purple. Matt sits alone, the old wooden dock beneath him groaning as he sways one leg back and forth in the water. His other leg is propped up, a lazy arm resting there to serve as a pillow for his head. His long hair settles just under his eyes, shielding his vision enough so that he only sees the black ocean that pushes and pulls around him. Matt’s mind is plagued with stress and worry, the only reason he’s even here is to escape the reality that awaits him back at the castle. This is meant to be his happy place, it is his happy place, yet he’s anything but.

The sudden sound of trotting hooves rings in his ears, alerting him of someone’s unexpected arrival and breaking him from his thoughts. “Matt?” a tentative voice asks, pulling on the horses’ reign hard enough for it to stop. There are only two people in this entire kingdom who refer to him by his this, everyone else opting for far more formal titles.

Reluctantly, Matt averts his eyes from the ocean, looking up to see none other than his youngest brother, Chris. The moon has replaced the sun’s place in the sky, the soft luminescence reflecting on the suit of armor that adorns Chris’s body. The white stallion Chris sits on adds to his strong, knightly demeanor, and if Matt didn’t know any better, he might’ve let himself get intimidated by the long sword that hangs on the armor’s sheath.

Matt doesn’t have to reply, or ask what Chris is here for, he already knows. Using one hand, he pushes himself off the wooden dock, a low grunt following as he dusts off dirt and debris. His attire completely juxtaposes Chris’s, a flowy, long sleeve white top flapping in the wind as he walks over to his brother. Matt places a gentle hand on the stark white stallion that stands before him, caressing its face before finally providing Chris with his full attention.

“Get on. I’ll take you back,” Chris instructs, a strong chin pointing to the rear end of the horse. Matt mulls it over, deciding whether or not to accept the invitation, before deciding that he’d rather prolong the process, “No it’s okay, thank you. I think I’ll walk.”

Chris shrugs his shoulders, steering the mare back into the forest before whipping the leather rope so that the horse picks up a steady pace. Matt watches as Chris disappears behind the treeline the further the horse trudges into the forest.

Slowly, Matt begins the long walk back to the castle, each footstep being met with the bioluminescence of the ground beneath his feet. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he takes one last look behind him, a faint, faraway kingdom coming into view.

For a second he wonders what it would be like to live there instead, but shrugs the thought off as the fog that rises from the ocean completely engulfs the view. *2

—

Soft waves slap against the boat as it comes to a stop on a foggy, moonlit shore. You pace back and forth downstairs under the deck, attempting to regulate your breathing with deep breaths that become ragged quickly.

Martina flutters behind you, trying to match your pace so she can adjust details on your gown. You’re an anxious mess.

Your corset is too tight, your dress is too big, your hair is beginning to weigh on your head, and to top it off this is the first official appearance you’ll be making as Queen outside of Solara.

As Martina fusses over you, you find yourself becoming increasingly irritated.

“Martina, could you please—” You shout, “Please just leave me be! For one second!”

Her hands shoot up in the air, a tight lipped smile forming on her face as she holds back tears before she quietly exits the room. As soon as the door clicks closed, and you hear her footsteps shuffle up to the ship’s deck, you let out a sigh of relief and slump onto the bed.

The wooden bed frame creaks as you sink into the mattress. You’re trying to keep your composure and you never meant yell, but this is all so overwhelming for you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you try to think of anything other than the nerves that surge through your body. Your mind immediately wanders to memories of your childhood and of your mother, putting you in an even more emotional and vulnerable state.

Just as your heart beat has been regulated, Selma bursts through the door without warning.

“Why have you yelled at Martina?!” She asks, her voice booming through the small room. The look on her face makes you feel worse.

“Selma, it was a misunderstanding. All I needed was a minute alone,” you reply, sitting up to get a better view of your sister.

“That does not seem like a well enough excuse to me. All Martina ever does is help and you’ve gone and upset her! Queen or not, you owe her an apology.”

“I shall apologize when everyone is calm.”

“You’re right, you shall. And you shall also make haste because everyone is waiting and we don’t have all day.” With that Selma stomps out of the room and slams the door shut, almost breaking the aged wood from the sheer force.

You throw yourself back on the bed, anxiety once again at an all time high. How were you meant to portray a powerful Queen when you felt so helpless?

—

“Queen Y/n! Princess Selma!” Chris exclaims, waving a hand in the air briefly as he calls you two over.

The coronation was quick and easy, and now that it’s over you don’t know why you were so anxious to begin with. Nobody has paid you any particular attention, most eyes were too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the new King.

You even found yourself narrowing your eyes and crooking your neck to see his face, but for the most part he had his back to the crowd and kept his head hung low.

“Lord Sturniolo!” Selma matches Chris’s energy, her heart skipping a beat as she pulls you in his general direction.

“You cleaned up quite beautifully,” Selma jokes, gawking at Chris’s elegant attire. A slight blush forks on his cheeks.

“Thank you both for making the trip, I hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” he says, a smile so bright it could blind you adorning his face.

“Oh it was nothing really,” you reply, but in reality you would’ve preferred to stay home. Eclipsum was dreary and the sun rarely had a chance to shine through the foggy, cloudy sky. Not to mention the fact that you have yet to meet the King; the sole purpose for your travel.

“Although I did hope to meet that famous brother of yours,” you continue, eyes scanning the room in hopes of finally seeing the King.

Chris’s eyes follow yours, he’s been hoping for the same all night, but Matt always managed to keep hidden even when he was meant to be the center of attention. Who could blame him, though? He was just crowned not only in jewels, but also in responsibility.

“Matt— I mean, the King has always been good at hiding.”

‘Matt.’ The name helps you understand and humanize him. He must be struggling like you were when you first became Queen.

“I’m sure he’s being kept extremely busy with all this company. We shall meet him soon, Sister.” Selma’s arm remains looped around yours, the other gesturing to the ballroom full of people as she creates a steady flow of conversation with Chris.

Chris chuckles, he found your sister’s positivity endearing, but he knew Matt was sequestered away from society.

“Will you both be staying in Eclipsum?” Chris asks, attempting to change the topic.

You and Selma answer simultaneously. She says yes and you say no.

“I suppose we shall be staying then. A few a days shouldn’t hurt,” you laugh. Selma’s gaze remains on Chris, they were clearly falling in love and here you were stuck babysitting your sister in a foreign country.

You huff in annoyance, “I shall need some time alone.” Selma waves you off, so engaged in conversation with Chris that nothing else matters.

So much for power.

—

MASTERLIST, SERIES MASTERLIST

A/n: I know you all want them to meet already, but trust ITS COMING. For everyone who’s been asking for part two, hope I enjoy! 😏 more coming soon

muah muah muah 💋 luv u all

- L.A.M.B💗👼🏻

—

1* not the bottom lip JUTTING out

2* yes this is the same part from the teaser. Why? Because I was teasing it 🤓

—

taglist: @nickgetsmewetter @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @luvr4miya @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh @khxna @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @callsignwidow

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[eldritch-spouse]

Lacai getting caught stealing the Queen's new panties and her forcing him to eat her pussy as a punishment??

[""Forcing him""- Oh no, the poor pervert. Fem reader.]

Lacai figures he could just be patient.

He really could afford to wait only a few minutes until you and King Vesper depart for this evening's festivities. Left vastly alone in the mansion with only his team of servants and the occasional toy roaming around, there'd be nothing to stop this sleazeball from dunking himself head first into the used laundry basket inside your bedchambers.

But that's not his goal.

Sure, he does want to keep pairs of your panties for himself. For his growing collection, his trophies, though it was never the driving reason for his actions. Lacai wants to get caught, he thrills in becoming sloppy, leaving traces, keeping you wondering who is doing such a disgusting thing.

The King probably already knows, if Lacai had to guess. But not you. It's taking a while for it to click in your head. Lacai supposes he's a bit mean for accusing some of the less subtle servants, taking advantage of the fact that he's the most dressed person in the mansion- Though it's more than a little fun to throw you off. There's playfulness in every imp, after all.

Still, knowing the risk, because of the risk, the fantasy of it all, Lacai is currently in the main bathroom. Digging through your laundry basket as expected. It was placed there specifically for your comfort, everyone knows the Lord of Lust walks everywhere he can bare as the day he was born- Save for the chains, of course.

You don't. Not yet at least. You still cling to the creature comforts and routines of the surface, like a safety blanket. Lacai knows it won't take that long before you give into the demonlord's temptations however, admiring Vesper for his patience as pink claws scrape off clothing items one by one, day by day. Point being, Lacai supposes he ought to make the most out of this adaptation period, before there are no more clothes to steal away at all...

The impcubus makes a cursory glance around the room, to the doorway, before stuffing wriggling gloved fingers into your used items. Naturally having a sharper sense of smell than humans, he's already being hit with all sorts of faint signals, mostly your natural scent and a hint of sweat. A womanly musk. Nothing out of sorts.

Lacai hums quietly as he searches, tail wagging, images rapidly forming in his mind. Once again, he defaults to picturing what you might do if you stumbled in on this, a scenario he has made and remade an obsessive amount of times. You're not a full on raging pervert yet, at least not openly -It's all a matter of inevitability here, the waiting game- So you're definitely going to punish him in some way or another.

Mmm punishment... Your punishment. His tail curls giddily.

Would you send him to the floor, put a heel to his chest, berate him for his depravity while making him kiss and lick wordless apologies up the length of your beautiful legs? Don't you know he can't help it? That he's only a lovelorn, desperate, debased vassal? A thrall to your every movement, dirty enough to sate himself with traces of you- Have you no pity, beneath that sugary smile, for your gross little servant?

Just as he starts getting into the zone of a specific scenario, something already stirring in his pants, Lacai snags something between his index and middle finger that has his eyes widening.

" Oh? "

The fantasy slips away, slinking into the creases between the tiles on the floor when Lacai extracts a remarkable pair of panties from the pile. The previous pairs he had fished are all but swiftly discarded, the apple of his eye now a very expensive-looking piece. Purple, featuring intricate and manually woven patterns on all sides, vaguely transparent as they swirl and dance on the skin of the wearer and featuring short frills on the sides.

Fucking jackpot!

The imp's breath catches.

He's seen this pair before on you. It's very very recent. In fact, the King gifted it to you when you started truly settling into your new life as the consort of Lust. Lacai knows because he saw this very pair on you once. Vesper was determined to spoil you extra hard that day, he wanted you to feel irresistible, and thus, your outfit had to reflect that. The imp will never forget the way you sauntered across the halls in those translucent pink robes, thin fabric melting into a beautiful lavender gradient. The head imp is unashamed to admit that he constantly tilted his head and lingered in certain places just to better see your delicious ass framed by those patterns. The way it rode up your hips and framed your pretty pussy was hypnotizing. Lacai wished he could have just whisked you away for a second, a moment for his eyes -And hopefully hands- Only, but the sovereign had your attention the whole day and his servant understood it wouldn't be wise to get in the way.

Lacai brings the cloth to his face, moaning in glee as traces of you tickle up his nostrils to his brain, fireworks set off, his pants suddenly a hindrance when his length wastes no time poking out its slit and tenting them. You've worn these recently, he can tell, humming at the high the cloth offers his depraved senses while his hand trails a path down his front, unceremoniously crammed down dark pants to fetch his cock, pump himself to the image of you leaving these out for him- The thought of you playing with yourself through the cloth and letting your wetness coat it before discarding it, knowing he's going to weasel his way to it eventually, makes him throb painfully.

The more he palms and squeezes at his own length, the less Lacai seems to care about anything around him, cursing under his breath as he considers simply blowing his load right then and there without so much as a quick escapade to more private settings no one's likely to find him in. A shiver charts its way down his spine, making his tail tense when he hunches with growing pleasure, eyes shut, his peak approaching embarrassingly fast for his type of fiend, and then-

" Bastard! "

The imp gasps hard enough to nearly inhale your panties in the process, choking, skeleton jumping out his skin as he swivels to face you.

It's not even that Lacai is ashamed. It's that he genuinely didn't hear you.

" So it was you this whole time?! "

The demon doesn't offer much of a reaction to your very evident rage, instead taking the time to study your new attire. Apparently, Vesper is ever closer to having you strut around stark naked, because the sparse red fabric crisscrossing your body in a manner much too reminiscent of shibari to be a mere coincidence can barely be considered clothing by any definition of the word.

Lacai gets distracted by the sight of your peeking nipples for long enough that you catch him off-guard yet again and viciously yank the panties off his hand. Ah, there goes his golden find.

While you evaluate the item, checking if he had done something to it, the servant can't stop the heated grin that tugs at his lips when he realizes he's getting exactly what he asked for- Caught red-handed. His tail rises in anticipation and Lacai licks his lips, still finding traces of your musk there. He's the picture of smooth arrogance when you glare back at him, which humorously only seems to make you boil more.

You're probably thinking about all the excuses he gave you, all the clever little misleading comments, adding two and two together right in front of him.

" You little- " You huff. " Are you even going to defend yourself, you sleazeball?! "

He throbs at the comment, visibly so, and you finally seem to register the hand that's still in his pants, and hasn't really stopped teasing him all this time. Fury and flustered shock war on your face, making the other all but tremble with delight.

" Mmn no. "

He had to fight the urge to laugh when you flinched at the nonchalant response. A silent pause passes where your hues crash against violet ones. And while any other concubus would have seen this as an aggressive challenge, brightened their eyes warningly, Lacai knows he can't meet his oblivious ruler's boldness. So, as a different way of defying you, he keeps stroking his cock, as if he didn't feel minimally threatened by your distaste. And he doesn't.

" Unbelievable! " You erupt. " I am- I'm your Queen! "

It's the first time Lacai has ever heard you refer to yourself with the correct title, causing his usual lidded gaze to actually widen in genuine soft happiness. You seem to taste and test the term on your own lips, trying to sound confident even when it's very clear the role still intimidates you.

He could shoot your bravado down with another disarming quip, but it might ruin the fun. The imp knows he has to tread a thin line between teasing and compliance, playing at your pace is the best option.

" Get on your knees. "

Oh. Oh?

The smirk he sported before turns into an outright grin, Lacai's cheeks painted a plum purple. The imp obeys far too fast, eagerly awaiting a new order, beaming at the possible perversions running through your mind. What will you have him do?

Instead, you roll your eyes at him. " Ugh, take your hand off your dick for two seconds. "

Easier said than done, you're such a massive fucking cocktease. It makes him stupid. Nevertheless, two gloved palms rest on his thighs politely, girth back to straining at its coverings.

Wordlessly, your arm lifts and an index finger points to the tiled floor in front of you. Lacai feels a wave of heat course through him while he crawls your way, slinking on the ground like the pathetic pervert he is at heart, head low, a curled tail betraying his enjoyment. His panting breaths condense on the floor.

" I don't want to hear a single smartass comment from you. " He hears more than sees a leg stretching forward. " Make it up to me. "

A quiet purring coo erupts from Lacai's throat, the smaller demon instantly letting greedy hands drift to your heel-clad foot. He grabs you like you're made of porcelain, pressing lingering kisses against bare skin, between the lace of your gorgeous heeled sandals, going as far as to boldly tug on the thin fabric from time to time. He trails a feverish and imploring path to your ankle, then scoots ever nearer to you as his journey up your leg truly begins. Because, as much as Lacai would like to spend all day kissing every part of you, he's clearly got a preference and it's right between your legs.

You shoot the imp a warning look when he tries to get close enough to rest his groin against your leg.

Unfortunately for you, it keeps slipping your mind that concubi aren't creatures whose eyes you can look into for too long without suffering consequences. There's a reason Lacai keeps seeking eye contact while he performs his "apologetic" display, a reason as to why his reverent kisses are becoming wetter. He may be an imp, but his influence is still felt in a human's body.

And you're starting to get decently wet.

When Lacai begins mouthing at the inside of your thigh, hands flirting up and down the length of your skin, eyes wantonly drifting to that scandalously sheer strip of cloth covering your pussy, he can no longer hold the mischief maker in him that begs to pipe up, to rile.

The imp leans up, moving to happily place a peck on your covered cunt when you grab his left horn and yank his head away.

" And who said you could do that, you audacious bastard? "

He gives you this drunken smile, full of adoration and desire, mirth glinting in those pretty eyes. " But my Queen, your need calls to me. I only want to please you. "

" My nee- "

" You're wet enough to taste. "

There. The shock that flashes through your face like you've just been slapped. Such short memory you have. Maybe you're under the impression only King Vesper can scent your arousal... Wrong. So very wrong. Every time you pass by a servant with desire in your heart, all of them get a pulse, an alarm- You're exigent in your lusts.

Another stare down ensues, and what a wonderful view it is to have you looming over him, hopelessly turned on yet disdainful, forever trapped between those two states, a visage of turmoil and begrudging adaptation- Already too tempted and ruined to return to the person you once were, but unable to fully accept it either. The sovereign should demand a painting of you with this exact expression, in Lacai's humble opinion.

" How dare you. "

It wasn't even a question.

The impcubus blinks lazily.

After far too long being restlessly still, your index -Such long and beautiful nails you're sporting today, he hopes you puncture him with them- Hurriedly swipes that velvet cloth aside, baring to the servant your need. Slick, plump, he can almost hear your heartbeat there as blood flow increases in the area.

" Fix your mess, you animal. "

And even if you hiss it at Lacai like it's some sort of dreadful punishment, the two of you know so much better already. You're practically doing him a favor, without outright admitting that perhaps it turns you on that he was the underwear thief all along.

" Of course, my Lady. " Looking at his face or not, you can hear the grin in those words.

Lacai doesn't take off his gloves, you're starting to think it might be his fetish, but it would also be lying to say that the sensation of such expensive spandex spreading your lips isn't somewhat exotic. His fingers are delicate but explorative, tracing the length of your entrance and nudging your clit, slow, deliberately too light to give you any real stimulus.

Even now, he has the nerve to test your patience.

Nearly growling at the head imp, you grab his onyx hair and make sure to glue his mouth to your cunt. He moans, giggling hornily.

" Make this quick. "

Who is he to deny a direct order from his superior?

Lacai moves with a fury, the depths of his yearning for you -Brewing from the first day- Unearthed viciously as he latches onto you without reservation. Oh he will make it fast, fast enough that you won't even have time to beg him for more before you're convulsing atop him.

The imp has to keep you steady with handfuls of your ass, taking the opportunity to encourage you to grind on his face when you're finally able to find your footing after the initial shock. In the back of his mind, he really hopes you can handle cumming in heels without tripping or breaking something.

Between the sucking of your poor clit, rolled by his tongue like a pearl and the shameless lapping of your hole, you can only gasp and twitch when he quickly manages to stuff most of his tongue inside you. Your nails claw against his scalp and Lacai's spine arches when you tip your head back to moan throatily, the type of sound he loves hearing from Vesper's throne while he's working nearby, but for him this time.

No words of praise are spared to him when you grunt and twist your hand on his scalp, forcing the demon's head to twist back uncomfortably just so he can shove even more of his drooling tongue up your pussy, his chin caked in your slick and the noises of him mercilessly drilling into you ringing out grossly.

The shuddering whines you let out have Lacai heating like a furnace, so he waits patiently until you start truly fucking his face with harsh rolls of your lush hips before letting one of his hands fall to the front of his pants, eagerly shoving everything out of the way to offer his neglected length some merciful attention. As soon as he starts moaning and panting, you shake your head.

" No- " You rush between heavy breaths. " No, you're not allowed! Put your hands away. "

He does. And you're smart enough to voice an addendum as soon as another appendage begins to move.

" Cheeky fuck- Hhn, no tail either. "

The imp is proud of you for thinking that far ahead. Leave it to a concubus to get creative with their restrictions. He makes a theatrical show of whimpering against your pulsing cunt, though never slows his movement, even as you start rhythmically clenching on him. The taste of you directly is so much more than he could ever hope to gleam with just used panties. He can understand why Vesper will eat you out ravenously, why he's constantly trying to keep your juicy pussy stuffed. The imp is drooling like a fucking mutt and he cares none even when a mix of his aphrodisiac saliva and your wetness drip down his face, tainting his collar.

" Y- You don't deserve this. "

Oh he really doesn't, but it's sweet of you to offer anyway.

Lacai makes his gratitude known by thrusting his whole face harder against you, mimicking what he'd really like to do in that moment, neglected dick throbbing pitifully as he tries to phantom the sensation of your insides around him. His tail might not be used for his pleasure under your decree, but he can still flirt it around the tight ring of your asshole, feeling the way you jolt in response.

When the servant senses you tightening and coiling in an approaching climax, he makes sure to look right into your eyes, not wanting to miss those gorgeous faces you make for a single second. Your pupils dilate and your mouth parts, this series of rushed cries escaping you as your sweet complexion twists once more to a depraved one befitting of your station as Queen of carnality.

In his awe, Lacai falters only for a fraction of a moment before making sure to do his job properly and milking every drop of your pleasure out, enjoying the good soaking you cover him in and sucking your oversensitive button even as you spasm and tremble with too much stimulus at once. White gloves fix your legs in place when your balance starts to falter and Lacai purrs with delight while you ride those last embers of pleasure on his debased complexion.

He doesn't want to wash his face ever again. Maybe he'll let one of the other imps lick your cum off him, whoever's lucky enough to catch him first...

The impcubus watches adoringly, ever still and obedient, while you rest idly on him, content to stay like this the whole day. Eventually, your tense grip on his hair alleviates, and you pet him quietly before shakily unmounting his face- The bottom of it glossy and viscous with the evidence of your enjoyment. Your "punishment".

Although Lacai looks ever smug and self-satisfied, the way his shoulders hunch and his thighs flex betrays reality, that he's bursting to get himself off already. That much you can see.

" Was my humble apology appropriate enough for you, my Queen? Or should I try harder? "

The soft smile on your face turns into a frown and he titters inwardly.

" Ugh, you're a lot more tolerable when your mouth is put to use. "

Fuck, it's like you're after his heart with those comments. The sudden twinkle in your eyes thrills him even more.

" As a matter of fact- " You suddenly seem to recall the panties bundled into a tight ball between your digits.

Unwrapping the fabric, you smile almost nefariously as you lean to harshly press it against Lacai's face, almost grinding it on him. He hasn't been this turned on in a long while.

" There. Finish yourself off. "

That dismissive tone should have brought an inkling of shame to Lacai, but it flew right over his head and horns.

The demon muffles a heated "Thank you" against the fabric, eyes rolling while he immediately, finally drops both hands to his cock.

Even in his own selfish pursuit of euphoria, the imp makes sure to spread his legs and ride his sweater up, giving you an unobstructed view of the lurid motions he makes. Hoping you realize that it's far from the first time that he's fucked his own fist and hands to the thought of you, the sight, the smell. Oh, if only you were just a little bit more attentive to your surroundings, you would have caught the numberless times Lacai got off just around the corner, in the same room as you, quietly.

You seem to appreciate the little degenerate show, this pleasantly amused expression framing your pretty features, eyes drifting from his glazed eyes to the outline of his filthy tongue cleaning your panties and the hump of his legs into his own grasp. It definitely doesn't take much for the impcubus to reach his peak, having been teasing himself since before you showed up.

Lacai makes sure you're watching him intently when he curls, holding his breath before belting out a pathetic noise that vibrates your palm and staining the floor with the surprising suddenness of his own trembling orgasm. He's too busy trying to prolong the high to notice the fact the one stray shot stains your foot, to which you grimace faintly, observing him idly while righting your outfit.

The cloth is finally removed from Lacai's face. " Thank you. " He speaks properly, sighing, cleaning his own lips and cheeks.

You're about to reply, when hurried heavy footsteps ring outside, giving you only enough time to turn before two polite knocks are heard.

" Vixen? Are you alright? " The King's voice sounds mildly confused.

The doors part and he pokes his head inside, bright wide eyes searching for you, then quickly taking in the picturesque state his Queen and main servant are in. A smile full of genuine adoration graces his dark lips as he realizes what you were both up to, though his expression shifts rapidly to something more serious.

" Come, my Lady. You can play with him more later, we have places to be and we're already getting late. "

Nodding bashfully, you fix your hair quickly while Vesper turns his attention to Lacai with a disappointed expression, the infernal gold on him clinking at every movement of his head tendril.

" Lacai my dear, I'd encourage your fuckery any other day, but I did warn you we would be busy today. Did I not? "

Said imp, covers himself half-heartedly. " I- I understand, forgive me S- "

Right as he's about to finish the sentence, you quickly shove those cute purple panties in his mouth, giggling and petting the gagged servant's already messy hair when he gawks.

" It's fine. " You wink, making the demonlord laugh loudly at your antics. " But if I find another pair of panties missing, I want you to actually punish him. "

Lacai watches you clean your foot on his pants and follow Vesper outside, the King's reply making him gulp dryly.

" Oh, I do promise. "

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

[bro-atz]

good knight [bro's 500 — san]

[fake relationship/forbidden love, smut, royal!au, knight!san/princess!reader]

requested by: @k-hotchoisan + 🍪

word count: 4.7k

content: smut, a lot of sexual tension... like a lot a lot, UNPROTECTED SEX (PLS WRAP UP IRL), slight breeding kink, completely consensual!

author's note: both aubs and cookie anon had really similar ideas so i decided to combine them! also, i went way too hard w this piece... it's supposed to be a drabble idk what happened 😭 the things i do for san ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“San, you have to help me. Please,” you begged the knight.

You were standing with him in the Great Hall, not a single other soul around you. The knights had returned from their daily rounds, and San was getting ready to head back to his quarters when you stopped him. He was the only one in the entire castle that you could trust to help you with your vision, and you hoped that if you begged enough, he would follow through and help you out.

“Princess, what you’re asking of me is too much of an encumber. There’s no way I could fulfill such a thing,” San said quietly.

“San, you’re the only one who can do this for me. You need to do it.”

“What about—”

“I’ve already considered all of the other possibilities!” you interrupted him. “I thought everything through, and the only thing I can think of is for you to take me to this stupid ball and present yourself as my lover. Please, please, please San!”

“Your highness,” San sighed softly. “I can only do so much.”

“San, please… I don’t know what else to do, and if I tell my father that I don’t want to marry the prince, then he’ll never let me step foot outside of the castle until the day of the wedding. Plus! Plus, he trusts you so much, and I don’t know who else he would listen to that would also be able to help me, and I just—”

You covered your mouth when you felt tears well up in your eyes, stifling a sob. San immediately reacted by cupping your face and drying the tears from the corners of your eyes with the pads of his thumbs.

“Princess, don’t cry,” San said, his lips nearly pulling into a painful frown. “I’ll… I’ll talk to the king, okay?”

You nodded and mouthed a small thank you to the man before he turned on his heel to go talk to the king.

“I really don’t see the need for you to go, San,” the king said gruffly. “Your job is to protect the kingdom.”

“Isn’t the princess part of the kingdom?” San pointed out.

“Well, yes… But, still. I don’t see why you need to go.”

“Your highness, your daughter is a beautiful you lady, and if you send her to this ball all alone, lord knows what’ll happen to her,” San started, hoping that scaring the king would work as a tactic since you were counting on him, after all.

“The prince will be there! She’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but what about to and from the ball? The prince won’t be able to pick her up or drop her off, and I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust the other kingdom to protect her just yet.”

“Oh my… You’re right. Okay, I’m entrusting you with her, then. I want you to get her there and back safely, San.”

“Yes, your highness.”

With a wave of his hand, the king dismissed San. He returned to the Great Hall where you were standing and tapping your foot nervously while anxiously biting your nails. You looked at him with expectant eyes, and he responded to you with a quick nod. Relief washed over your body, and a smile bloomed on your face. San turned around and made his way back to his quarters in a hurry as your smile made his heart nearly swoon.

San’s heart did swoon when he saw your full outfit for the ball. You had a beautiful royal purple strapless lace ballgown on, rhinestones decorating your bust, waist, and hips. You smoothed out the dress and looked down at it before looking at San and asking quietly, “Do I look alright?”

“Princess, you look so beautiful,” San said with a tiny gasp. “You’re going to be the most beautiful woman at this ball.”

You smiled shyly at the man. You knew that he was just telling you that because you were the princess, but it was still nice to hear him say that. San held his hand out for you and assisted you as you got into the carriage before sitting alongside you.

The steady clicking of the horses hooves droned on in the background as the carriage made its way along the dirt path. The clicking was so steady, in fact, that it lulled you to sleep, your eyes growing heavier with each passing second. It was only when you fully fell asleep did you rest your head on the knight’s shoulder, slightly startling the man.

San couldn’t help but observe your features. You were so beautiful when awake, so he didn’t expect you to be such a graceful sleeper as well. Your long eyelashes were so perfectly curved that it took everything in the knight to not run a finger along them, and the way your rosy lips were slightly parted as you breathed softly drove him insane. Rather than squish you— you know, as one does with cute things— San settled for brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead, only to immediately freeze.

Oh shit.

That was out of bounds. He should not have done that— he was merely a knight and you were the princess! How dare he make a move on your sleeping being? Shame consumed San’s body as he recoiled, his shoulder moving slightly, making your head nearly slip from your comfortable pillow. You let out a little whine and pushed yourself closer to San, threatening the man’s heart. He froze yet again and held his breath, wondering if you were awake for that moment when he kissed your forehead, but you weren’t. You were fast asleep.

At least you were asleep, San had to keep telling himself as the long journey to the other kingdom persisted. At least you were asleep.

“Okay, just stay right by my side, San,” you instructed San as soon as you got out of the carriage.

Thanks to your amazing nap in the carriage, you were on full, high alert from the moment you arrived in the other kingdom. You linked arms with San and let him escort you into the palace where the ball was completely underway. You only clung closer to the knight as you made your way through the halls and into the Grand Hall where dozens of princes and princesses were talking, drinking, laughing, and dancing.

“What’s the plan, princess?” San asked you in a hushed voice as the two of you stepped through the threshold.

“We need to find the prince—”

“Princess Y/N! I was beginning to wonder when you would arrive!” a voice said cheerily from behind you.

Startled, you jerked away from San and turned around to face the prince you were to wed, your heart pounding like crazy as you realized that you would have to lie to the prince well before you had time to prepare yourself.

“P-prince Yeosang!” you exclaimed while nearly biting your tongue.

“Oh, and I see you’ve brought a guest,” Yeosang’s voice flattened almost immediately upon seeing the knight by your side.

Sensing your fear, San reached for your hand and held it, his fingers lacing with yours. You would think that the action would calm you down, but it only made you more flustered. Mustering up the courage within you, you cleared your throat and said, “Yeah. Actually, I need to tell you something.”

Before you could continue, Yeosang held his hand up. He didn’t need to hear it since just seeing your hand in San’s was enough to explain the situation. “Does your father know?” Yeosang asked icily.

“Yes,” you lied straight through your teeth.

“Interesting… Alright, well, enjoy the ball. I’ll see you around some time, princess.”

With that, Yeosang returned to his guests at the ball, his arm immediately wrapping around the waist of another princess. You let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to look at the knight, your eyes sparkling brilliantly as you made eye contact.

“Thank you, San!” you whispered but cheered at the same time.

Rather than wait for a response from him, you threw your arms around him and hugged him to show your appreciation. San was completely taken aback, but after a few seconds, he accepted the hug, his own arms wrapping around your body. He could faintly smell the fragrance you had used earlier that day, and he so badly wanted to bury his nose in your hair and enjoy the smell properly, but he refrained.

Little did he know that you were in the same boat, but with him and his musk. San smelled so manly and so sexy, you felt like your insides were about to start a raging fire the longer you immersed yourself in his warmth and scent. Then, you realized you had been hugging the man for quite some time, so you let go and shuffled away slightly, a light blush appearing on your cheeks. Had you looked up, you would have seen that San’s face was extremely red, and you only looked up by the time it subdued.

“We, uh,” San cleared his throat and spoke softly. “We have some time to kill before we head back… What would you like to do, princess?”

“Well, I’m not going to say no to free food and drinks,” you murmured.

Letting out a light laugh, San nodded and said, “Of course. Right this way, your highness.”

Arm wrapped loosely around your waist, San accompanied you wherever you went. He made sure to stick close to you as the night progressed, one of his hands always on you at any given moment.

The two of you were standing and watching the couples waltz on the dance floor. San refused to drink— technically, he was on the job, so he had to remain sober— while you nursed your second drink of the night. You tore your eyes from the ballroom floor and looked at the attractive knight. You thought you were subtle, but he could feel your intense gaze on him as he continued to look at the dancers. Maybe you were drunk, he told himself the longer you stared. He thought you were drunk, but you definitely were not. What kind of princess would you be if you didn’t know how to control yourself and maintain your tolerance?

“San, you’re really attractive, you know that?” you murmured.

“Princess…”

You brought your hand to his face and traced your finger over his cheekbone, along his jaw, and on his lips. You stood the tiniest bit closer to him as you then placed a thumb on his lower lip and dragged it down slightly, your nail grazing the inside of his lip. San’s heart was racing faster than a horse, and his mind was slowly beginning to melt. You looked so fucking beautiful looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, your slightly parted lips driving him insane once again. Before his mind could completely lose a grip on reality, San grabbed your wrist and moved your hand away from his face, your arm going limp and resting by your side.

“That’s highly inappropriate, princess,” San said roughly as he remembered his station.

“San, we need to look the part,” you insisted.

“We already showed the prince.”

“What about the castle staff?”

San blinked several times before leaning in and whispering into your ear, “You’re really playing with fire right now, princess.”

You turned your head, your lips so close to brushing past his, and whispered, “Would you rather dance with me instead, Knight San?”

Holding his breath, San moved away from you, trying desperately not to show how flustered he was by your actions. He gave you a tiny nod and held his hand out for you, your hand slipping into his perfectly. He led you to the dance floor and put his arm on your waist as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

You honestly didn’t expect San to be such a great dancer. He was a knight— his heavy armor and broad build should’ve made him super stiff. But no, he was fluid, graceful, light, and everything else a dancer is. He quite literally swept you off your feet the more you danced with him. You looked at his face as he whisked you side to side, around the other couples, and through the ballroom floor. Your heart was already fluttering the more you thought about his firm, rough hand on your waist, and it only got worse when his eyes met yours. In fact, your heart was beating so rapidly that you completely missed a step. You tripped over your own dress and nearly fell backwards, but San caught you in time, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

When he pulled you up, he held you flush against his chest. Your eyes widened as you felt him hug you the slightest bit tighter.

“Are you okay?” San whispered.

“Y-yes… I think…. I need some air.”

Brushing past San, you went straight for the palace balcony, the cool breeze in the midnight sky snapping you out of your heart-fluttering trance. That only worked for about two seconds because your mind immediately drifted back to the way San was holding you when you nearly fell. You bit your lower lip and started pacing the balcony as you tried to calm yourself down, but the more you thought about it, the more heat pooled inside you. You felt like a goddamn animal in heat with the way you were thinking about Knight San, a man that you would never, not in your dizziest daydream, be allowed to wed, let alone sleep with.

“Princess?” you heard San call for you, his foot barely through the threshold.

You turned around to face him, and San immediately stopped breathing. You seemed to be turning in slow motion, your hair swaying with the wind, and your dress briefly flourishing before settling, giving you a more than majestic feel.

San approached you slowly at first, then quickly arrived by your side, one of his hands cupping your face while the other found your waist, and he kissed you deeply, passionately. He kissed you as if his life depended on it, like if the two of you weren’t connected, the entire palace would crumble to ashes.

“Yes, Knight San?”

It was only when you called his name did San realize that he was still standing right in front of the doorframe— he hadn’t moved an inch.

“W-we should leave soon, princess,” San managed out, his throat dry as he realized his deepest and darkest desire manifested itself into a dizzy daydream.

“Okay, let’s go.”’

The ride back from the ball was hellish. Both you and San were on edge the entire ride back— not that the two of you knew that the feelings between the two of you were mutual. You were staring out the window into nothingness as it was night time and the only things you could clearly see were the moon and the stars, and San was fixated on his balled up fists in his lap, trying to extinguish the fire burning within him.

It progressively got harder for both of you when the carriage arrived at your kingdom. San got down first, and he held his hand out for you to assist you out of the carriage. But, when your skin made contact with his, you felt like your hand was on fire— he felt the exact same way. You both shared intense eye contact that said way more than either of you were willing to relinquish, the tension in the air and in your chest palpable.

“G-good night, San,” you whispered, your heart clenching at the thought of parting with the man.

“Good night, princess,” San returned in the same register, the glimmer in his eyes fading slightly.

With that, the two of you retreated back to your respective rooms, and the second you entered the castle, thunder broke out, and it started raining heavily. You jumped upon hearing the boom, the sound nearly shaking the castle. Oh, how you hated rainstorms. Rain itself was fine, but thunder and lighting? Nuh uh. You had no idea how you were going to get yourself to sleep that night.

San, stripped down to his simple cotton clothing, laid awake in his bed not because of the storm, but because of you. He rested one of his arms across his stomach to try and release the tension building up in his nethers, his other one over his forehead trying to ease his mind. Yet, he couldn’t, because his mind kept flashing to you in your dress, making his pants tighter with every memory.

Luckily for him, it was when someone suddenly knocked on the door was he able to fully calm down. He quickly made his way to the door, and upon opening the door, there was another loud boom of thunder, making the person on the other side of the door jump into his arms— making you jump into his arms.

“P-p-princess!” San exclaimed in a hushed but surprised voice. “What’re you doing here?! You’re not supposed to be here!”

“I’m s-sorry, San. I just couldn’t sl-EEP—”

There was another clap of thunder, scaring you further into his arms. You buried your face in his chest and clung to his shoulders, using him as some sort of safety shield.

San didn’t know what to think of the situation. He knew that whatever the fuck was going on was way out of bounds for someone in his station. He knew that, but in the same breath, he didn’t want to let you go. He loved the way you fit perfectly into his embrace, the way your elegant nightgown swayed when you jumped further into his arms, your trembling arms and legs begging for someone to keep you safe, so on and so forth. Dare he say it, he was in love with you, but he definitely did not dare.

Hugging you securely, San completely closed and locked the door to his room before walking you to his bed and sitting you down alongside him. “Princess, don’t be scared,” he whispered as he pulled himself away from you and brushed your hair behind your ear.

Nodding, you willingly let go of him and placed your hands flat in your lap, your fingers still slightly trembling with fear. “Sorry, I just…” you started with a heavy sigh. “I couldn’t sleep because of the rain and… And because of other things…”

“What other things?” the knight inquired.

“…I meant what I said earlier, you know.”’

San didn’t have to ask about what you were referring to. He knew exactly what you were trying to say, and while he really wanted to accept your interest in him, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It was not proper of him to do so, and it would never be proper of him to do so.

You knew this as well, which is why you scooted closer to San and reached for his hand. Silently, with your eyes, you told him to not resist it and just let you touch him, hold his hand, lace your fingers with his.

“Princess, you know that this isn’t right,” San tried to fight his feelings and let reasoning win, but when you rubbed circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, he felt his feelings override logic and reasoning.

“I know,” you said with a sad whisper. “But, I… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I really like you. You’re sweet, considerate, loyal, handsome, and honest, and I don’t know if there are any other princes in this entire world that share your same qualities. You’re… Perfect.”

“Princess, I’m not perfect. You’re perfect,” San reversed your compliment and unlaced his fingers with yours to cup your face. “You’re the most perfect being, and I truly would do anything to be with you—”

“Then do it.”

“W-what?”

“Be with me. Kiss me,” you leaned into him, your hand pressing into his thigh as you neared him. “Sleep with me.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tentatively, San brought your face to his, his thumb rubbing against your ear as he kissed you softly. His hot touch on your cheek and ear only got hotter as his kisses deepened, his lips trapping yours over and over and over again. You held onto his shoulders as he brought you onto his lap, your ass rubbing against his slowly stiffening, shielded cock. He sighed blissfully in between kisses, little grunts and gasps leaving his lungs when you shifted against him just right.

And yet, while he kissed you so passionately, he was still so reserved. His tongue remained in his mouth, non-intrusive, dormant.

“San,” you breathed out as you pushed against him gently, trying to get him to listen to you. “Just let yourself go. Don’t be the self-restrained knight my father conditioned you to be. Be insatiable tonight.”

“I’m warning you— you won’t get a wink of sleep tonight then, princess,” San whispered back, his voice so low it could’ve turned into a growl.

“I’d rather you kept me up instead of the storm.”

With your blessing, San swiftly moved you so that you were laying on the bed while he hovered above you. He leaned down and kissed you once more, but this time, he did let go. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth and swirled with yours, and his hands grabbed the bottom of your nightgown and lifted it upwards, revealing the fact that you had nothing on underneath.

“You sleep without undergarments, princess?” San broke the kiss to ask you his question in shock.

“San, don’t call me princess… Call me by my name,” you told him, completely sidestepping his remark about your sleep habits.

With that sensual, low rumble of his, San uttered your name, and instantly, goosebumps covered your entire body. He sounded so incredibly sexy when he said your name like that, and it just made you want to latch onto him and never let go.

“Y/N, may I?” San asked as he slowly lowered himself, bringing his lips closer to the searing heat between your legs, his large hands gripping your thighs gently.

Hearing him asking for permission so politely while saying your name sent butterflies storming through your insides.

“May I?” San asked again, still waiting upon your response.

“Please.”

The second his tongue made contact with your folds, your fingers and toes curled into the sheets, a long pleasureful sigh leaving your lips. Your back arched as you felt his tongue press and prod into you, his hold on your thighs tightening the more he immersed himself in your wet cunt.

“Oh San… Oh! Mmm,” you did your best to keep your moans to a minimum, but the longer he spent down there, the tighter the knot in your belly became and the harder it became to suppress your noises.

You barely lasted the second San’s tongue circled around your clit and his finger entered and curled inside you. Your entire body shuddered, and you let out a little cry as you felt the tension within you snap.

“San,” you whimpered as you felt the pleasure gradually die down. “I want more…”

“As you wish,” San responded, a slight smirk on his face, turning you on all over again.

San pulled off your nightgown altogether before he slowly started undressing himself, giving you a little show as he did so. The rain was still coming down hard, and there was thunder and lightning in the distance, but you were so entranced by San that you forgot everything. However, you went from being enamored back to being fearful when he revealed the massive weapon he had been hiding under all of the armor, all of the layers. Of course, he was fully erect, so it couldn’t get any bigger than that, but it still made fear course through your veins.

“I’ll start slowly for you, and only when you feel comfortable will I go faster,” San murmured to you as he trapped your body between his arms and knees, easing a little bit of your fear.

His cock head rubbed against your sensitive clit, making you grip the sheets behind your head. Your clit was still throbbing and recovering from your orgasm just moments prior, so when you felt him rub against you like that, the pleasure just soared through you to the point that you came again, the walls of your cunt convulsing, your knees shaking.

“Alright,” you detected a hint of a chuckle behind San’s words. “I’m going to start.”

“H-hurry, San…” you whimpered, your voice trembling.

You knew San was going to be huge, and that it was going to be a tight fit, but knowing wasn’t enough. It felt like his cock was tearing you apart. You bit back a loud scream and reached for San’s arms, your nails clawing into his forearms. He was nearly balls deep inside you by the time he stopped moving, his waist pressed firmly against yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, Y/N,” San validated you with the softest yet sexiest voice you had ever heard. He leaned down and smoothed your hair back before leaving a light kiss on your lips. “So well.”

“San— Ngh!”

Your breathy moan turned into a little cry when San started moving again, his cock pulling out just as slowly as when he pushed it into you. Little dots of perspiration decorated his forehead and started rolling down the sides of his face as his gyrations started to speed up and became more and more intentional. You had to settle for biting your lower lip when San leaned back, thrusting faster and harder. His hands reached for your breasts, and he massaged them, rolling your hardening nipples in between his fingers, evoking the most erotic groans out of you.

“You’re making such lewd noises, Y/N.” San licked then bit his lower lip, his eyebrow raising slightly the more he listened to your melodic moans. “You like it that much?”

“Mmhmm— More— Ah! M-more,” you barely instructed.

The wood of the bed frame creaked as his fast, hard thrusts shifted the whole bed. His eyebrows were knitted together the more he focused on pleasuring you, sweat drops falling from his face and decorating your bare skin and the sheets below. He long foregone toying with your breasts and bent himself over you again, his body practically rolling into yours. His lips kept teasing you, brushing against yours but never fully kissing you, but when he brought them to your neck, his lips would press against your skin before biting lightly, playfully.

Then, he shifted up ever so slightly, his cock starting to rub against your G-spot and hit your cervix in every stroke. Sparks filled your vision as he kept going at the two spots over and over again. You reached for his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin harshly as you cried loudly, the rainstorm drowning out your screams.

San, feelings the walls convulse and tighten around his thick cock, felt pleasure surge through his system as well. He pulled out, but before he could cum, you shook your head and tugged his shoulders, bringing him down so his ear met your lips.

“Inside. Please.”

Shuddering, San quickly re-entered you and did as you requested, his hot load spurting into you uncontrollably. San let out the most toe-curling, pussy-clenching groan, making you thirst for the man once more. It certainly did not help when you felt his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.

When San looked down to see your red, quivering pussy dripping with his cum and your arousal fluid, he gulped and did his best to suppress his perverted desire to keep filling you up with his lineage. That lasted only several seconds because when you outstretched your arms and willed him to embrace you, you also kissed him with enough intensity to make him want to fuck you hard all over again.

“Be the reason I don’t sleep tonight, San.”

bro's 500 event | bro's 500 event masterlist

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[calisources]

THE   ROYAL   TREATMENT.   all   sentences   are   either   taken   from   fantasy   or   fictional   and   historical   novels   about   kings,   queens,   royal   blood   and   some   sparked   romance   and   magic.   change   all   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

[rggie]

twst first-years as your roommate!

characters: sebek, jack, ace, jack, epel ortho. [ ortho’s is strictly platonic! ]

cw: gn!reader, crack & fluff, pining, sfw, unedited.

sebek zigvolt

“malleus, oh malleus! you are truly illustrious, and above all benevolent! i pledge my life to you! I KNEEL BEFORE YOU MY KING!!”

new drinking game. take a shot every time sebek says malleus

you wake up every morning to sebek chanting to his malleus portrait like he’s truly standing with you in your room. you don’t need an alarm clock when you have him bellowing at 5AM. you press your pillow against your ears but to no avail. you can still hear him, he’s that loud!!

he literally kneels down to the painting as if he’s getting a knighthood (he’s practicing for the future, okay?)

tells you that you should also join him and prostrate yourself before his lord… if you tell him to shut up he will look at you with an incredulous expression as though you’re the crazy one. are you silencing him, and in association, lord malleus? your insolence besmirches you!

if it gets too much for you he starts whispering aggressively instead, offended: “FINE.. ( •̀ - •́ )”

sebek spends a long time getting ready. so if you’re running late in the morning, you’ll want to beat him to the bathroom.

it’s because of his hair... he’s styling that thing with an abundance of gel. your bathroom cupboards have so many products for his hair there’s literally nowhere for you to put your things.

it’s crazy because he would look so much better with his hair down. when you tell him that he refuses to believe it, stating that all the elderly in briar valley love his current hairstyle.

he wastes 10 minutes alone hyping himself up in front of the mirror. flexing his muscles, practicing his smile, dimpling his cheek with his fangs. he rehearses saying “salutations, lord malleus!” or “hello, dear human!” but if you catch him in the act he’ll deny deny deny as pink bursts across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he’s a bookworm, and that’s probably when he’s the quietest. yes, he’s quieter with his nose in a book than he is sleeping because he’s a sleep talker.

⇈ if you’re interested, sebek will recommend you some good pieces of literature!! he’s also really helpful if you need help with similar things in class. he annotates his books neatly with sticky-notes and highlighters, so if you ask nicely he might be gracious enough to let you skim over his hard work.

in return, if you’re good at subjects like maths, please assist him. numbers and him are like oil and water—they just don’t mix. he’ll be so grateful, he might humbly tell you a story of malleus’ childhood

you have to save sebek from lilia’s antics. he once told sebek balancing books on his head whilst sleeping standing up would help him become more resilient, so at night he would just be standing in the corner of your room… menacingly... it was honestly frightening.

you thought he’d fall over and crash onto his desk, having to physically drag him to his bed and tuck him gently each time he tried. he never once made it through the night. yes, he tried several times.

pretends the whole situation never happened. it was his lowest point.

sebek always makes sure you’re eating well, since he’s a big eater himself. when he’s feeling particularly chivalrous, he’ll get himself extra food just to lend you some, a coy smirk playing against his lips when you thank him.

ace trappola

ace has a basketball hoop on his side of the room. he likes to practice his trickshots often, so he’s probably hit you several times with it when he misses. which is often.

imagine you’re just walking into your room after a long day and—thwack!—you’re getting knocked out. he will laugh at you before pulling you up and making sure you’re actually okay. i’d be worried he has a vendetta against you or something.

⇈ says “it’s your fault for standing there”, pressing a hand against the point of impact tenderly.

standing where??? in your own room??? where it’s supposed to be SAFE???

makes a mess all the time in the bathroom. probably leaves toothpaste in the sink and water on the floor. he’s going to make you have wet socks and then he’ll roll his eyes when you complain.

you have to push him to clean it as he feigns innocence. “maybe it was you and you’re just blaming me!” “just clean the toothpaste, ace!”

he flicks tap water in your face.

when it comes to doing laundry he makes you play card games with him. whoever wins has to deal with it. he is a cheater and proud! he’s doing whatever he can to win and grinning like the chesire cat the whole time as if you’re not already aware of what he’s up to.

you have to force him to do his homework. he just so happens to always forget. but wait! you’re here! you’re instantly now his study buddy regardless of whether you wanted to or not. it doesn’t matter how smart you are, he’s always trying to copy your answers.

when it’s late at night and he can’t sleep, he’s texting: ‘u up?’ to check if you’re the same. if you don’t reply he literally pads up to your bed and looms over you. he puts his face inches close to your yours and whispers your name because he never believes that you’re truly sleeping.

brace yourself for a lot of late-night kitchen runs. he’s grabbing your hand and racing with you down the halls, telling you to hush and pressing a finger to his lips when he’s the one stomping and giggling outside riddle’s room.

don’t worry, he doesn’t eat anything he knows is his housewarden’s. he doesn’t try to get collared, you know. then he practically steals someone else’s lunch (the ‘someone else’ in question being deuce) and then shares it with you.

you get caught every time, ace’s stomping waking riddle up. he doesn’t even attempt to protect you, claiming it’s not stealing because it’s going to a good cause—your ‘date’.

he’s only ever joking about the date thing. he just likes seeing your reaction.

…but if he wasn’t joking, hypothetically… would you agree it’s a date?

deuce spade

he’s trying so hard to be a good roommate to you. he really is!

at first, he tries to impress you with his full bookshelf. in an attempt to turn over a new leaf, he borrowed a ton of magic related books from the library but he’s only read one

every time you walked into the room he frantically grabbed a book from his shelf and opened it, placing a finger on his chin to suggest that he was deep in thought.

“what’s gotten you so interested, deuce?” “oh it’s nothing. just a book about…psychology and stuff. really emotional. yeah.”

intrigued, you approached his side only to find out he’s reading a children’s picture book. upside down.

each time he thinks back to that moment he is filled with so much shame. whenever you bring it up he slaps a hand to your mouth with a shout, overly flustered. he’s always been honest about himself after that.

he’s another messy guy. overall? he’s clean—but when he eats he leaves a lot of crumbs behind on his bed and himself. you have the urge to wipe them from his cheeks all the time. this could be reiterated for all the first-years except ortho, though.

deuce excitedly shows you pictures of the latest blastcylces (he has posters all over his side of the room) and tells you all about his bleached hair days. he even lets you try on his blastcycle helmet and jersey. has a picture of you in it and treasures it as ‘a reminder to not go rouge again’

you study together but the pair of you always get distracted by having silly little side conversations. one second you’re talking about pythagoras; the next, it’s a passionate discussion about what animal you’d be if you were reincarnated in another life.

he moves around in his sleep a lot. he goes to sleep spread out like a starfish and ends up on the floor, bedsheets half-on him and the worst bed-head ever.

you have to fix his hair in the mornings for him. he’ll barely be awake, sleep still in his eyes as you’re patting his head to keep the stray hairs at bay. he’ll lean into your touch but he won’t remember doing it till halfway through the day.

⇈ he’ll just be in the middle of flight class, randomly think about the proximity of your faces, then almost falls off his broom. ace laughs till he cries.

when he comes to your room wounded he appreciates how you ask him if he’s okay before asking what happened. when it’s the other way around, he always rechecks your state even though the school doctor patched you up fine and deemed you well enough.

he calls his mother often to make sure she’s okay, and you’ve gotten more than acquainted with her.

she loves you and thinks you’re a great influence for deuce. she’s even happier that he’s made some friends!! she’s always gushing about how she’s proud of him, or asking you to come over with in the holidays.

“deuce, when you come home bring your lovely friend okay? i like them.”

he agrees without hesitation, because he can’t deny her wishes—and he likes you, too.

jack howl

your room either smells like sweat and the mens body spray he uses or caramel scented candles that he swears his younger brother and sister bought for him.

it’s mostly the second option, because jack is good when it comes to personal hygiene and also doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for you. (his side of the room is very clean, and he takes pride in that, so if yours isn’t he’ll tell you to fix up very bluntly.)

he’s very perceptive and values personal space, so he’s thoroughly checking to make sure you’re comfortable. will give you space and alone time if you need it.

he’s got ‘motivational workout quotes’ framed and hung up on his side of the room

gives you a similar one for your birthday, in order to give you motivation for the rest of the school year. he’s given one to all the first years, even ortho, so you’re not special or anything.

yours is just slightly bigger.

from far away it looks aesthetically pleasing, contrasting nicely with all the greenery from the plants he’s raising (he’s a plant mom)

then you get closer and read: “Train The Quit Out Of You.” “Single Taken At The Gym.” “In This House, Only Hard Work Matters.”

he goes on morning runs, so he’s out before you can even open your eyes. sometimes, he leaves you notes behind wishing you a good day, since he’s not much of a texter even though you’ve exchanged numbers. sometimes you’ll find notes around the house just saying some words of encouragement.

if you’re awake, he might ask you to join him. but it ends up being him running out of earshot so fast you lose sight of him. he’ll be running back as you’re still on the first stretch, out of breath. he’ll try his best to wait for you to catch up, though…

⇈ you might not enjoy it as much as he is but he’ll be really thankful that you came along anyway. you don’t even have to run if you don’t want to, just sitting and watching him somehow gives him a newfound burst of energy.

as a reward for sticking with him, he’ll make sure you’re well fed. not that he doesn’t do that already; jack sits next to you, the two of you sharing a plate of breakfast together as the other first-years just share a look like (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )?

you often find him talking to his cacti. his tone is so soft it’s endearing, conversing as though they’d speak back before watering them. in fact, you find out more from him speaking to the succulents than you do when he’s actually talking to you.

it’s not that he doesn’t talk to you. he does!! but the conversations are always short because he’s too busy trying to hide the wag of his tail and twitch of of his ears.

you speak to his cacti, because if jack truly believes it will benefit them you also want to help. he’s so fond of them. when he finds out you’ve been doing so, he tells you that he’s sure they’re standing stronger and looking healthier because of you <3

he lets you name them

Congratulations. you are both now Plant Parents.

it might take a lot of convincing but if you can get him to cuddle with you in his wolf form you will get the best sleep ever. he’s super fluffy, which makes him really cosy to lean on and snuggle up to.

⇈ but you both tend to oversleep and end up late for classes whenever you do it. jack scolds you for it because he doesn’t want to be a troublesome student, but he won’t deny you when you ask again.

everyone’s convinced you’re dating.

epel felmier

why are there apples everywhere

the saying ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ doesn’t apply to you! an apple a day is bringing you closer to the doctor. (epel has boxes of apples for his carvings. they’re overflowing, causing apples to spill out onto your floor creating a trip hazard.)

he seriously doesn’t mean to make mess but the apples just keep on coming! at this point you both have enough apples to keep you going for at least a good few months—but you’re not allowed to eat them.

okay, fine, you can have one… or two..

pomefiore’s bedtime is 10pm, so both of you share the struggle of hiding that you’re awake. you’re both chuckling under your own bedcovers, messaging each other on your phones with your brightness at the lowest setting: ‘is he gone yet? u check’

vil will be standing in the doorway, hands on his hips waiting for you to peek your heads up. he knows what you’re doing.

you keep doing it anyway until vil threatens to split you up.

the two of you will try to stay up till early hours of the morning doing anything and everything. on one occasion you tried to juggle with apples, ending up hitting yourselves in the faces. it left marks.

plenty of times you’ll send epel a funny video of something or the other and he’ll double over in laughter, wheezing so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear you. your phones get confiscated for a week.

he’s on his best behaviour now, he swears! and you are too—you know vil only sets specific guidelines for you to follow because it will benefit you both in the long run.

if you’re injured, epel will tend to your wounds skilfully. he’s been in more than a few accidents being a wild child, and also knows a lot about medicinal herbs and magic pharmacy. arguably does a better job than school staff.

when he’s injured, he’s rushing back to show them off to you like battle scars. look at the the one on his knee, quick! he stood his ground and won, isn’t he cool? (it’s absolutely tiny and will definitely fade away. he wants to be leona so bad)

he always lets you see the process of his apple carving and even gives you lessons. he’s delighted that he gets to teach someone something he learned back in his hometown—it’s not much of a big deal, but whenever someone shows interest in it, his chest puffs with pride.

and when it’s you specifically complimenting him and harveston, he’s super smitten.

ortho shroud

ortho is only just finding out about himself, exploring his tastes and developing his own opinion. (he’s really glad he can share these self-discoveries with you!)

idia is Not Happy that his brother is being stolen off him, but wishes ortho well nonetheless.

you will never be late to class from now on because he will wake you up on time. and don’t think about skipping or faking illness, because ortho can see right through you.

asks how your day has been after school because he genuinely cares. he wants to know everything! school is just so fun to him. he’s so happy about going to class that you start to feel guilty for dreading them. he’ll tell you about his day too, very elaborately. you might be sitting and listening for a while because ortho does not miss a single detail.

⇈ you somehow end up finding out what scarabia resident B did last summer with his family, though you’re sure it had no relevance to ortho’s magic history class at all?

asks you to take pictures of him around your room, literally even if it’s a mundane activity. half of your camera roll is just images of ortho studying. he also wants to take lots of pictures with you, so he can keep the memories he spent his first real roommate fresh in his mind forever, so say cheese!

you make a bucket list together so he can check things off along the course of his life. you take him out to places he wants to go, and he helps you in return. need questions answered? he’s got the best results at the fastest speeds. hungry? he’s flying off to sam’s store. your preferences are already stored in his memory system, so expect something yummy when he returns!

he gets very attached to you very quickly, and perhaps even a little protective. if you’re ever going to do anything reckless ortho is sitting you down and telling you the pros and cons, success to failure ratio and extra precautions you should take.

as he’s only ever lived with his brother and never really had friends for himself, ortho is still used to idia’s social recluse/anxious ways. you could be ordering over the phone and if the person on the other end of the line mishears you ortho is suddenly speaking up for you very angrily.

ortho: excuse me they asked for NO. PICKLES. 😡😡

introverts love him. fast food branch owners fear him. the ice cream machines won’t be ‘broken’ on ortho’s watch.

if someone’s bothering you, just tell him. he won’t hesitate to dox a bully or two online. he learned from the best. NOT afraid to resort to physical attacks. has a high-intensity laser beam ready to fire whenever you need it.

ortho is not rainbows and sunshine all the time. he’s a nrc student, after all.

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