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theminecraftbee · 3 months

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the case of docm77 v zombiecleo: a very incomplete summary of events

i, of course, strongly recommend going to doc's video (or bdubs, cleo, joe, or skizz's, once they exist) and watching the whole thing for yourself i could NOT stop laughing. but for those of you who want a vague summary of some stuff that happens in the courtroom:

bdubs is insisting on being called "your highness" as opposed to "your honor".

we START with bdubs explaining he has set up a dramatic five-strike system; if either side gets five strikes (things that upset bdubs lol) he will "uh, not give them the death penalty, but--"

doc immediately tries to use this to take advantage of the system and get cleo strikes.

he instead accidentally immediately murders his own counsel.

it has been like One Minute.

"just in case anyone dies, there's a jury deliberation room under construction, there's a bed in there"

bdubs is paying everyone a diamond block for showing up if they listen to his judgement. help.

"thrust his sword into said swine" so skizz's opening speech is GREAT.

"wow, that was really good. but the camera is over here, so if you could do that again and look into the camera for me--"

"defense, first off, how do you plead?" (doc, grasping for his vague knowledge of american legal dramas) "i plead the fifth. i plead the fifth. uh. right?"

joe, in his opening speech: "this is esteemed around the world as a place where two adults who act like children can come to have their differences settled by you in the most entertaining manner."

HELP. "cleo is bringing to the court not an affair between two adults with an unsettled matter, but an adult and a large baby."

HELP IS JOE'S DEFENSE THAT DOC IS A LARGE BABY AND THEREFORE CAN'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR HIS ACTIONS.

joe: "you know, cleo has a lot of communication problems." bdubs, with great feeling: "yikes."

cleo, under her breath: "i'm gonna kill him."

"just a minute i'm setting up my lawyer", ren says, carrying the armor stand he had in the stands with him to the bench and putting false's head on it,

ren: "i cannot recall." bdubs: "YOU CAN'T RECALL WHAT HAPPENED?" ren: "i cannot recall if i cannot recall."

why is skizz doing a foghorn leghorn accent now,

skizz, about doc: "this is proof this man likes to intimidate, that he gets off on it." no one comments on this phrasing.

sorry ren making an armor stand falsesymmetry as his lawyer and companion in the stands is so funny.

"this is more evidence cleo is a poor communicator. she can't control her man--"

joe is very clearly just trying to make everyone in the room mad and it's really funny.

HELP. BDUBS BUILT A HEADS AND TAILS MACHINE TO DECIDE IF THEY'RE GOING TO ALLOW OBJECTIONS.

anyway it rolls tails so it overrules skizz's objection.

skizz's accent and vocabulary just keeps getting more and more exaggerated i think he's going for approximately benoit blanc,

beef: "he forcefully approached us and said he's the guy who wants all the wood." cleo and doc, snorting and giggling at this as one,

i feel like i should note that bdubs has a fireworks crossbow that he's calling his "whip" and hitting people with when they do something he considers wrong.

this leads me to wonder if bdubs thinks whipping is normal in a courtroom...?

i think its really funny that skizz is actively doing like, correct types and moments to do an objection, and it almost sounds like good lawyering, and then IMMEDIATELY bdubs goes "it's time to HEADS AND TAILS!!!" and breaks that illusion completely.

"well, it's heads, objection sustained, strike that from the record." joe: "well then i guess you'll never know what my point was." beat of silence. bdubs: "never mind, let's just add a strike, and you can say it,"

"i don't know how the esophagus entered this situation at all?" "let's pray it didn't. geez." "i was not thinking of doc's esophagus when i built the giant fish for his hourglass." <- this only barely makes more sense in context,

"no further questions your honor." "seriously???"

every time joe calls doc either a baby or a manchild is SO FUNNY. why is this his argument. it's SO FUNNY.

"but he has not proven mens rhea, which you your highness are very familiar with but for the viewers at home is not a gendered form of diarrhea--"

cleo, to doc: "doc are you sure you want to win this one?" doc, in clear and obvious distress: "i'm not sure of anything anymore man i just, i don't know,"

bdubs then interrupts to do the sponsored segment of court.

"the tall claims court is brought to you by!" bdubs puts a disc in. 13 starts playing. "shoot that's the spooky record. that's the worst one." he continues with his bamboo shop sponsored segment spiel anyway, with 13 continuing to play,

"i'm not going to ask for money, i'm just asking for a simple injunction against doc. he won't be allowed to use diamonds for redstone anymore." "WHAT??? THERE'S LIMITS TO THIS, OKAY????" "calm down doc, we're not gonna--" "WHAT NO WHAT CALM DOWN???"

"cleo i have to say that's way better than anything skizz said. skizz was talking and all i heard was bla bla bla bla bla but that was real heartfelt. if you're thinking about paying him, maybe don't."

doc: "i want to make peace and love that's all i care about i'm just a humble boutiquer"

"i felt like as her friend i needed to teach her what it feels like to lose something" i love how deranged that is doc keep going

"but it happened and i think i'm insane, right," doc says, then nods at joe.

"yeah this is really good" cleo responds, perfectly happy with the idea of doc declaring himself insane for no good reason,

cleo: "doc is just completely unhinged when people mess with his redstone, and i feel like my punishment would take away that emotional bond."

joe: "objection your honor, my client is unhinged in every context."

i like how this is "make fun of doc" day.

bdubs: "i'm going to deliberate quickly then i'll come back with my judgement." (turns around for like five seconds.) "and i'm back!"

HELP DOC HAS BEEN BANISHED TO A SINGLE BLOCK IN THE SKY WITH A CHEST ON IT FOR TWO WEEKS

THREE IF HE TOUCHES THE GROUND

AIR JAIL...........

bdubs adjourns court. doc, immediately: "WHAT THE HELL JOE??" "i did my best, man :/"

"DO YOU KNOW THE VEINS ON MY NECK ARE ABOUT TO EXPLODE????"

jevin in the background of doc losing his shit just kinda murdering skizzleman for fun,

doc's main objection to the sky island is "BUT I HAVE THINGS TO DO :(((((("

doc ends the video standing here:

in conclusion: yeah this seems like a very fair trial with no ridiculous elements at all. very serious and befitting the sanctity of court. yes. you should watch it for a very serious hermitcraft experience,

#hermitcraft #docm77 #joe hills #zombiecleo #skizzleman #bdoubleo100 #hermitcraft spoilers #EVERYONE GO WATCH IT ITS SO FUCKING FUNNY

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bizbat · 2 months

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hiii

so i had a thought of like, jason with a gf who has trouble getting wet no matter how turned on she is, and she’s embarrassed so she kinda puts off them having sex for a while.

and he’s so confused and just thinking that she doesn’t like him enough or something until one day he finally says something and she gives in and tells him

and he’s just sitting there like “…. you mean all we had to do was buy lube?”

and then wonderful (smutty.) things ensue

please and thank you, mwah 😘

Not A Problem . . .

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Fem!AFAB!Reader

~ Explicit Smut

~ Reader is not described.

~ Wc:1.039k

~ You can find more of my works here.

C/W: Smut, PiV penetration, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, Pet names (Angel, Baby, Pretty), Mdom, FSub, Healthy Dom/Sub dynamics (communication, explicit consent), Use of the terms "cunt", "pussy", "tits", "ass", "cock", "asshole", Non-penetrative sex, Multiple orgasms, Overstim, Teasing, Hair pulling, Crying, Dacryphilia

It really, really isn't.

Looking back now, you can't believe you were ever worried about it.

You vividly remember pushing off advancing your relationship with Jason in that way, terrified of what he might say, how he might react. You remember having to hype yourself up to tell him, getting all serious, sitting him down one day after "work", you'd even spent the day thinking up clever segways into the conversation.

The topic, of course, being that no matter how hard you try, you cannot get wet.

No matter how much foreplay, no matter how much you touch yourself, you can't bring your body to secrete those famous, ever-important juices. And it's been really hard. In past relationships, you've either been forced to deal with the discomfort, or deny sex all together. But not with Jason.

You wanted to do everything with him, kiss him, love him, fuck him, everything. Which is why you got all serious with him to begin with. You remember telling him you had something you wanted to talk about, sitting beside him on the couch, and holding his hands in yours as you took a deep breath, and began explaining your problem. He was very sincere as he listened to you, his eyes never leaving your nervous face as he patiently let you explain the issue that had been plaguing your previous relationships. He took the whole thing very seriously.

Or at least, he did, until you had stopped speaking. Once the heavy silence overtook the room, he could no longer hold back the small smile that spread across his face, nor the tiny chuckle that escaped his lips. He quickly slapped his hand over his mouth to try to hide it before you could catch it, but the look of betrayal had already been plastered clean across your face. He cracks up as he reaches out to grab at your fleeting figure.

Honestly though, you're not sure why you ever so worried to begin with. Jason's head stuffed between your thighs is enough evidence to convince you he was never gonna judge you. The spit dripping down your thighs in thick rivers is all the reassurance you could've needed. His tongue furiously stroking your clit as his fingers pump in and out of your sweet cunt prove his dedication to pleasing you, no matter what little obstacles present themselves in your relationship.

He groans into your pussy, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure up your core, tingling up your back as you arch up from the plush carpet on the floor, which you're sure you'll have to replace. Your hands harshly tug at his dark locks, which, only makes him moan louder. Your legs strain from where they're laid over his shoulders, your hips tiredly thrusting against his soaking wet face.

Your eyes are far too blurry for you to see the lovestruck look on his face. At this point, what feels hours into eating you out like a man starved, he's just as out of it as you are, borderline losing brain function from the lack of oxygen. He's gone he barely even notices his cock painfully straining against his pants, or the ache forming in his knees and thighs from kneeling over you.

At some point, you have to push him away, your clit too sensitive to take any more abuse from his fingers, lips, and tongue. Your chest heaves up and down as you try your best to pull yourself away from his hungry mouth, your legs too tired to do anything to offer any kind of real service. Jason can only laugh at your desperate attempts, a combination of spit and slick coating your thighs and ass, making your skin glint and glisten so beautifully under the soft, warm light of your apartment.

He follows your pussy with his mouth as you squirm away. Your weak body only manages to pull you a few inches from where you originally started, only laying on your tummy now, instead of your back. He lets out a laugh, it's tired and raspy and like music to your ears, as he leans down and grips both of your ass cheeks, pulling them apart so he can spit a fat glob of saliva onto your tight asshole. He watches in an almost manic delight as it slowly spills down onto your drenched pussy, puffy from his tireless mouth. "Ah ah ah pretty," He coos at you gently, his hands gripping onto your hips to stop you from pulling away any more. "Gotta make sure you're nice an' wet, yeah?"

He's really gotta be out of it, to not see the buckets of secretion spilling down your thighs, and dripping from your cunt like a faucet. Regardless, he's still not satisfied, watching in amusement as your ass shakes when he delivers a wet slap. You can't tell if it was a harsh slap, or if your body is just too sensitive from his touch at this point, but you still gasp either way, fresh tears spilling from your eyes and dripping down your flushed cheeks.

"Don't we baby? Answer me." He groans biting his lip at the sight of your tears. You can't even remember the question, you think you say yes, but your brain isn't sending the proper signals to your mouth at the moment, so for all you know, you just let out incoherent babble. Either way, Jason seems to be pleased, murmuring out some sort of praise as he goes back to burying his head in-between your thighs.

His hands tug and squeeze at your ass, the fat filling his hands so deliciously, as he sucks and slurps at your cunt like it was his favorite meal on the planet. And truly, it might just be. He couldn't be more thankful that you told him you had a hard time getting wet, because now it gave him the excuse to eat you out for as long as physically possible.

And fuck, you'll let him. You almost feel stupid for worrying about it in the first place. Your fears that he wouldn't want to have sex with you after finding out, feel like a joke now. Clearly, to him, it's not a problem. It really, really isn't.

#bizbat #dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc smut #jason todd smut #dc x reader #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months

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Aemond x Baratheon daughter!reader. They are planning teh wedding and reader hears that there will be a bedding ceremony on the night of their marriage. She talks to the queen about it but she can’t do shit. She gets anxious and Aemond notices it so he ask why and she tells him that she’s uncomfortable about the bedding ceremony so Aemond personally asks Viserys to not have one

Warnings: arranged marriage, mention of bedding ceremony

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When the prince Aemond set foot in Storm's End and offered to take one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters in a marriage pact in exchange for swords and banners alongside the Greens, you didn’t know a bedding ceremony would be part of the pact. You had been flattered when the prince chose you over your sisters. The idea of being ‘sold’ to another Lord in marriage always made you uneasy, but the prince was tall, handsome, and kind to you.

Moons later, as you were discussing the preparations of your and Aemond’s wedding, you found yourself wishing he had taken one of your four sisters.

‘’A bedding ceremony?!’’ you repeated, feeling your stomach churn at the thought of having intercourse with spectators watching.

You tried to not think too much about it, telling yourself that if you closed your eyes during it, it would pass fast. But come the week of the wedding, it was all you could think about.

Shortly after your arrival in King’s Landing, you requested to speak to the Queen. Mayhaps she could do something about it?

‘’It’s about the bedding ceremony. I do not wish to do…that, your Grace.’’

If you had voiced your complaint to your father, you doubted he would have cared. A bedding ceremony was not embarrassing for the man. Quite the contrary, he was praised during the act. But the Queen was a woman. You hoped she would understand you, or at least have some compassion.

The Queen sighed as she sat on the camel-back couch before you, knowing the mortifying experience that is the bedding ceremony. Especially for a woman. ‘’Unfortunately, it is a Westerosi wedding tradition. I’m afraid I cannot do anything about it, sweetie.’’

‘’A perverted tradition...’’ you whispered, not thinking she would hear you.

‘’I agree,’’ she said softly, her eyes filled with empathy. ‘’Unfortunately, we must submit to men's perversion.’’ Her words hung heavy in the air, a bitter truth that neither of you could escape.

A public defloration was something that — some — people enjoyed. Including your father. Lord Borros needed proof that the marriage had been consummated before sending his men to the Greens. He didn’t want to give them his men and get tricked in return.

The evidence of the growing affection between you and Aemond wasn’t sufficient.

Speaking of Aemond, he came knocking on your door after his afternoon duties.

‘’Come in.’’

Usually, seeing him put a smile on your face, but today, you didn’t bother to open the door. You stayed sitting by the large window giving on the gardens, your eyes casted on your lap as you fidgeted with a thread from your dress.

Stepping inside, Aemond frowned, seeing you sitting by yourself. ‘’I apologize for not coming to greet you sooner. I was held back,’’ he explained briefly, not wanting to bore you with the details of his duties.

‘’All is good, my Prince,’’ you said flatly.

Aemond walked over to you, suspecting by your tone that something was upsetting you. He sat beside you and gently, he covered your hands with his, stopping your anxious play with the thread. ‘’What is it that is upsetting you, my love? Is it the wedding?’’ he asked, noticing the tension that seemed to wrap around you like a suffocating cloak.

You shook your head. The wedding itself was a moment you were looking forward to — truly. It was the hours that followed that made your anxiety spike to unbearable levels.

All these pairs of eyes on your naked body, observing — and judging. It made you sick.

‘’It’s about the bedding ceremony. I…I’m already scared of the bedding itself,’’ you confess, your voice small and insecure. ‘’I do not want to make my first time a spectacle.’’

Aemond nodded, understanding. ‘’I’m not comfortable about this either. But it is part of my duty as husband.’’

‘’I spoke to your mother about it. Her Grace said there is no possibility of getting out of it…’’ A single tear slipped down your face, the sight pinching at Aemond’s heart.

‘’Have you spoken to your father? Mayhaps he—’’

‘’My father requests it.’’

Aemond brought your hands to his lips, kissing them. ‘’I’ll speak to mine. Not to compare, but he holds more power than yours.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon

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rafeyswrd · 3 months

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for your rafe cameron series 🧡!

i hc that rafe hates that his shy gf is a people pleaser so whenever ppl ask reader for/to do things, he tells them no and teaches reader to be selfish sometimes

sweet girl . part one.

part two.

. . . finally done with uni and travel work so!!! i have not written in too long, so hopefully i have done it some justice!! part 1 because i truly think it deserves more :(

warnings. manipulative rafe? oblivious reader. bad friends lowkey.

Rafe Cameron adored you to the ends of the earth, every breath you took called his name. He cannot think of any quality you owned in which he disliked (maybe, slightly, being a pogue). But God he could not stand how nice you were. You knew it was a bad habit, a habit that made you likeable for all the wrong reasons.

Your heart was racing, and the base of your palms overloaded with sweat. No matter how many times you tried to relieve the stress, your mind would not stop reeling. It took days of convincing on your friends’ end, but it finally came to their luck when you’d hesitantly agreed.

Terrified. Terrified is the word you would use to describe how you felt. You were in shambles just thinking of the ocean, the deep seas scaring you in ways you would rather not imagine. But your friends needed you, after constructing a plan to get another batch of gold – all they needed was you.

“Are you ready?” JJ asked. Your shaking hands were gripping the edge of the boat before you nodded.

You tried, you really did, only you felt the panic settle in when your legs were the only identifiable object below you that did not jitter you. Your eyes stung painfully, and you were sure they would swell soon enough. After every exhale you did, water filled your lungs and the fish that trickled by your trembling feet, did not help but cause a worrisome tremble of your body.

It was a long while with overwhelming darkness consuming you, and time didn’t register then, not until Rafe’s angry voice was loading through your ears.

He was beyond furious. He wasn’t supposed to leave you alone today, but how could he say no to you when you were practically begging? (it did not take much — in fact.)

Rafe stood near his bed, watching your breathing steady and lashes gently flutter open. He paced near you with haste speed, before sitting down near your arms. “Do you know how stupid you are?”

“wh-what?”

“You wanted to keep this relationship a secret,” his breath shook with every word he spat out, yet the touch on his hands were laced with gentleness. “So you better stay outta trouble. I can’t come ‘n get you around your shitty fucking friends.”

You sat up slowly, taking notice of the way your clothes lay folded on his desk chair, his own clothes hanging loosely around your body. You knew Rafe cared about you, he is your boyfriend, but it never crossed your mind that he’d find anger in your misery.

You gulped, shrugging your shoulders yet your hands still circled by his, “I-I don’t get it, they’re my friends and they asked, it was a risk anyone would tak-”

“No the fuck it’s not, my God Y/N,” he dragged his hands over his face, before leaning close to you. “No friends would ask you to jump into the fuckin’ ocean knowin’ you’re scared shitless.”

His jaw clenched and you squint your eyes at the furrow of his brows, “Rafe…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” The frown residing on your face was evident, reaching out with one hand to clasp his rough hands with your own, and another tenderly caressing the creasing of his skin.

You didn’t understand his anger, but it was justified in your head, nonetheless. How could he ever be wrong in your eyes?

Not a second had passed and he was already mimicking the sadness plastered onto you, before using his other hand to caress your cheeks — a touch so soft sighs escaped the pair’s lips.

“Baby,” he cleared his throat, “Im- m’not mad at you. No one loves you like I do. I wouldn’t risk your life; your friends are selfish.”

He cradled your head onto his chest, wiping and pressing on your pouting mouth. “‘s not the first time either, you care too much ‘ts going to hurt you.” you shrug into his chest, heart aching at the sound of his own beating erratically breath your ears.

Rafe sighed, gulping and leaning onto the headboard, “gonna have to have me stuck by you all the time, i’ll be your backbone while you get to be all sweet ‘n shit.”

“you think i’m sweet?” a saccharine giggle escapes you at the roll of his eyes, and Rafe tightens his hold on you, knuckles white as you draw mindless patterns on his chest.

#fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks x reader #obx x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x pogue!reader

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kaciidubs · 10 months

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for the LOVE of me… i cannot stop thinking about polyOT8! skz x fem reader where they have a bulge kink 🤭 Lee know and Reader were caught on the sofa whilst the others were finishing up at jyp and then it hit the boys.. there was a visible bulge in your abdomen where minho was BURRIED inside of you (you were basically fucking like rabbits and the boys kinda joined in afterwards) 😽🫶🏻

Darling, OT8 x Reader is my bread and butter, I shit you not - and pair it with exhibitionism/voyeurism? You're out to kill me, I'm convinced.

You were never more grateful for owning so many throw blankets, or else you'd be the main reason why the couch cleaning market skyrocketed.

"M-Minho! Fuck, right there!"

Your hands twisted into the soft cotton, knuckles turning white as your body rocked against the covered cushions.

Above you hovered one of your eight boyfriends, face glistening with sweat and black hair messily swept back - his annoyance with it getting in his face was palpable the minute you two started your little fuck-fest.

His face lit up an a maniacal grin, tongue poking out to lick at the corner of his lips, "Right there? Tch, you're saying that as if I don't already know where all your spots are - such a bold little kitten." A breathless chuckle escaped from him as he hiked your right leg higher on his chest, keeping your left straddled between his own muscular thighs. "Since you think I don't know what I'm doing, maybe I shouldn't let you come again, hm?"

Your pussy clenched at the prospect, mind reeling at the thought of being left dry after so, so many highs. "No! Please, please don't, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He challenged, dark eyes sparkling with mischief, "You'll go crazy without having a cock to keep you full? You'll seek out our other partners and beg them to finish what you started?"

Your eyes rolled, body writhing as much as it could in his vice grip, keeping you pinned and open for anyone to see - for anyone to observe the way you were diminished to nothing but a hole for him to use.

"Finish what she started, huh?"

The new voice brought you back to yourself, your gaze focusing on Changbin walking into the living room with Seungmin and Jeongin in hot pursuit. Soon, the space was filled with each of your significant others, crowding around the couch where Minho was - still - driving into you as if nothing had changed.

"You got him all riled up again, huh, princess?" Chris cooed, amusement evident on his face.

"Princess?" Minho scoffed, hooking your leg into the crook of his arm and using his thumb to rub tight circles around your swollen clit, "She's been a brat - thinks what she says goes. I wonder why."

Before either one of them could comment, Hyunjin hissed out a short breath, "Fuck, look at her." To which Felix and Han followed up with a choked gasp of their own. "Holy shit."

Even through your delirium, you could see that his eyes weren't focused on your face - no, they were currently trained on where you and Minho were connected, and it didn't click until you snaked a hand down to your abdomen to feel a difference.

Fucking hell.

On each rough inward thrust, you could feel the shape of Minho's dick bulge against your abdomen and press against the lower part of your stomach.

"Noona, your hand," Jeongin whined, coaxing you into moving your hand back to it's previous position with a sobbed moan.

"Min- Min- I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," he gritted, rutting his hips against yours until your body shook, coming with a sound you could only hope was an attractive moan to say the least.

It took some time for you to come back to your senses, and when you did you were met with the guys in various stages of undress - a new wave of heavy lust dampening the atmosphere.

Blinking up at the second eldest, your eyebrows furrowed, "Min?"

Chuckling softly, he nodded knowingly at your tone, "I finished too, kitten - now, how about we let the others have a go, hm?"

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #OT8 x reader #skz ot8 smut #Poly! OT8 x Reader #Poly! SKZ

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miirohs · 4 months

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écoute chérie [c.l.c]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Assistant!Reader wc: 3.2k cw: assult, possesive behavior (standard for a mob au at this point), bro straight up kills someone, dubcon (again icarus?), shitty french an: i absolutely cannot write but anyways if this flops i'm deleting it and then crying!!! also do you guys ever just write y/n and put her in predicaments and then go womp womp as if you didn't just do that to her? yeah.

It was fairly obvious from the subtle twitch in his jaw, to the shadow cast over his eyes by strands of his hair falling in front, that he wasn’t happy. From the moment you both had left the guarded gates of his mansion, his face has been set in a stony silence.

You’d seen him glance over at you multiple times during the length of the car ride, and it was becoming harder to ignore his erratic behavior.

Just as he looked away you reached for him, startling him from his distracted state as you moved to fix his suit, readjusting his crooked tie and straightening out the collar of his suit. Immediately you snapped back up to him looking at you, a curious look on his face.

“You should be more careful with your suits.” You chastised softly, snapping back to your seat as the heat rose to your face. “Tossing and turning around like that will probably make it wrinkle up.”

He nodded in agreement, giving you the smallest smile he could muster. You could still see the upset in his eyes as he looked at you, and you came to a slow realization of what might’ve been upsetting him.

“Are you mad with me for coming along with you?”

His smile faded a little, the frustration in his eyes visible. He never wanted this for you, but he knew he couldn’t stop you from coming along, so he resorted to simply reminding you why he didn’t want to bring you.

“Mon coeur, I’m not mad at you at all. I'm just hesitant because I know what my people are like.”

You sighed, readjusting the straps of your dress as you looked at him. “Yes Charles, you’ve made that exceptionally clear but i don’t think you quite had a choice. Carlos didn’t even want to talk about going with you.”

He winced at your tone, tilting his head at you as he bent his own head down to your level. “I know I keep saying this, but you don’t know them like I do. I don't want you leaving my side, not to anywhere I cannot see you chérie. Do you understand?”

You took one of his hands in yours, nodding along to keep his anxiety in check. “Fine, I wasn’t planning on going just anywhere, I came with you because that's my job.”

“And your job is?”

“To be with you, twenty-four seven, whenever you need me.” You said teasingly as a cheeky smile graced his face once again, slightly more genuine than the last.

The car came to a stop, and you looked at each other, turning to the door of the car.

“Ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, obliging to climb out first as the door opened.

Your jaw dropped as you looked up to the entrance of the building. You didn’t think you were quite aware this level of grandeur could be possible, and you were honestly expecting something more inconspicuous.

Linking up his arm in yours, Charles bent down a little as you started walking, whispering into your ear.

“You look surprised. I bet you weren’t expecting this, huh?”

“Surprised doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s gorgeous.”

“Wait till you see the inside.”

You continued with him, eyes growing wider at the inside.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, intricate detailing all over the grand foyer as you surveyed the walls.

Charles walked with you through corridors, once again tensing up, evident in the tightness of his grip on your arm. You could see an ornate set of doors at the end of the hall, approaching them slower and slower.

You paused at the door, looking up to him as he inhaled deeply.

“Are you-”

“Ready? Of course I am.” He didn’t look at you, but you gave no further thought to his words as the doors opened, the crowds of people gathered visible from the mezzanine you both stood on. The ballroom almost glittered, light bouncing off almost every corner of the room.

“Char, if i had known this was going to be fancy, i would’ve dressed up better.” You said, aghast as he shook his head, looking at you with a hint of affection in his smile.

“You’re dazzling no matter what, mon coeur. There’s no need to worry, you’ll be just fine.”

“I- Alright.” You agreed hesitantly, arm slipping from his as you followed him down the stairs.

There were so many bodies on the floor you had a hard time following him, resorting to holding onto his sleeves to navigate through the crowds. He greeted people, and you did the same in his stead, unsure where exactly you were headed. Suddenly, Charles came to a stop in front of you, and you slammed into him, stumbling back slightly.

“Charles, what just happened, I...” You paused as he stood motionless, stepping to peer from behind him.

Another man stood there, head tilted as you curiously as you moved to Charles side. He wore all black, jacket embroidered with flowers and a necklace that resembled a thorn necklace. He seemed fancy, but something about the way he looked at you made it feel like you were being microanalyzed by him.

“Lewis.”

“Charles. A pleasure seeing you again.”

He nodded, relaxing slightly as the man took his hand, shaking it firmly.

“And who might this be?”

You waved, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I’m-”

“She’s my assistant.”

“Char, calm down.” You chided, ignoring how his tone almost instantly seemed to become sharp, nose flaring slightly. Clearly Lewis noticed as well, raising his eyebrow at how his tone seemed to change so suddenly.

“I’m sorry, my name is Y/n. I’m his assistant, as he mentioned before.” He took your hand, offering you a kiss to the knuckles with a smile.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/n. Are you new or…?”

“This is her first social event with me.” Charles butt in, arms crossed over as Lewis grinned at him. “Hm, I figured half as much. I haven’t seen much of her around, you should bring her more often. She seems pleasant.”

“Wonderful. Now is there anything else you want?” Charles answered, tone short and clipped as you frowned at his sudden defensiveness. Lewis hummed knowingly, sparing you a glance before he went back to talking to Charles.

“The negotiations are upstairs. We were just waiting for you to start, and I think Carlos got here maybe twenty minutes before you?”

He nodded curtly in response, taking your hand as he started moving.

Lewis looked down at him though as he shook his head, pointing to your hands.

“Sorry to break it to you mate, but she can’t come with us.”

“Why not?” Charles snapped, clearly annoyed by his sudden announcement.

“It’d be better for the both of you. I doubt you want her in on the grizzly details, it would only put her at risk, more so than working for you. Leave one of your guards with her if you want to, although I promise she’ll be just fine here.” He knew he couldn’t argue with that, it was apparent in the way his face fell at the realization.

“I have to go now, but we'll be waiting for you upstairs.” Lewis said as he waved goodbye to you, turning on his heel to leave the both of you alone to the side.

Charles sighed, glowering at the man's back as he turned to you.

“Écoute chérie (listen darling), it seems like Lewis has a point.” He started, reluctance written all over his expression. “So I'm leaving you here with one of the guards. I don't want you to put yourself in any unnecessary danger, so please keep them with you and talk instantly if anything happens.”

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed, but it did make sense to you. "I understand, Char, I'll be here when you come back."

He visibly relaxed, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. "Thank you, chérie. I promise I won't be long."

You gave him a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

With a short squeeze of your hand, Charles reluctantly left your side, disappearing into the crowd once more.

Left alone with the guard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, you took a deep breath, turning around to him.

"Looks like it's just you and me for now," you said, trying to break the ice with the bodyguard, who simply blinked at you.

“Not one to talk much, huh?” He cleared his throat, bashfully turning his eyes away from you.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but i'm pretty sure Mr. Leclerc wouldn’t like me looking at you.” You stifled a sigh, simply flashing a smile at him.

“Would you like to have a drink with me then…?”

“Ollie.” He finished, even more bashful than before as scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I'm sorry ma’am. I don’t think I'm allowed to drink on the job, Mr. Leclerc would kill me if something happened to you.”

Awkward silence filled the air as you sighed, looking around the ballroom.

You didn’t think there was anyone you could talk to other than him, so you were stuck with him for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t half bad either, but he followed you quite closely, almost as if carefully noting every single thing you were doing. Even as you made minor convos, he stood beside you, too close for it to be comfortable for either of you. He took his job seriously, a little too seriously, you thought.

At some point, you paused, turning around to him with your hands crossed over your chest.

"Ollie, do you have orders to stand so close? It's making me feel a bit claustrophobic."

He blinked, obviously taken aback by your directness. "I'm sorry miss. I was just told to keep an eye on you, Mr. Leclerc's orders."

You nodded, slight frustration rising up as he mentioned Charles' name. "I appreciate your dedication, but I promise I won't just wander off.”

He hesitated, yet still nodded to your request. "Is there anything I can do then?"

A lightbulb seemed to go off in your head as he asked, a grin stretching across your face as you looked at him.

"I think I'll go get a drink. Would you mind keeping an eye on things here until I come back?"

he relented with a nod, albeit with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Alright, but please don't wander too far. I'll be right here waiting for you to get back."

You nodded sweetly, yet as soon as you left his field of vision, you grabbed a glass off a tray, pushing gently through the crowds.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but there was rarely ever a time where you drank because of your job.

Before you knew it, you’d finished off the glass, abandoning it on the buffet table and grabbing another one as you made your way back into the crowd.

At some point you saw Ollie again, distracted as he talked to two other boys of his same age. You decided not to interrupt, walking past them and slipping through the open doors on the opposite end of the hall.

The air was cool, fragrant from all the flowers planted around the place. As you wandered along the winding paths, you observed the little statues and carefully trimmed hedges, detailing meticulously crafted to fit the vibes of the garden.

But your peace was short-lived, as the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder. Turning around, you were met with the leering faces of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the night air as they drunkenly stumbled through the hedges. They were creating a ruckus loud enough to attract a crowd.

You froze, not a sound escaping your lips as you looked at them.

Clearly they hadn’t noticed you, so you took a step back, hoping to get away.

Something snapped under your heel and they all stopped acting buck wild, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Ouh, Qui est cette femme, juste là (ooh, who's that woman right there)?”

Shock ran through your veins as the one who spoke pointed to you, eyes turning towards you in a moment. A couple laughed, one of them whistled, all of them looking you up and down like a piece of meat.

“I think she might be one of those escort people they hire at parties y’know… you think we should greet her?”

Their leering gazes made your skin crawl.

Quickly you turned on your heel, heading in the opposite direction, hoping to lose them quickly as you attempted to get back. Your heart pounded in your chest as you continued, their drunken roasts getting farther from you. You still felt paranoid, but you were pretty sure you had lost them.

As you turned around, a hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing hold of your wrist harshly. You were whirled around to face your assailant, one of the men from the group you’d seen earlier, one of the ones who had whistled at you.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" he sneered, drunken breath hot against your face as he sneered at you, a wicked grin on his face.

He had you cornered against one of the hedges, and you had nowhere to run as he got closer, trying to grab your other hand.

“You’re cute, you think the boss would like it if we sent him back a little present like you-”

You panicked, kicking wildly until you landed a kick to his nuts, breaking free from his grip around your wrists as he staggered back in pain.

“You bitch-!”

The sound of a warning shot silenced his swears of pain, the only thing you could hear now being the buzzing in your ear.

You turned your head, Charles saying something, but you couldn’t exactly hear it as he approached, an angry yet relieved loon on his face.

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?!”

You didn’t respond and he knew why, turning to look across from you at the man who glared at the both of you in anger.

"We'll discuss this later," he said, tone softer this time as he turned his attention back to you, helping you up onto a cold stone bench.

“You. Get lost. Don’t let me see you here ever again.”

"Or what?" The man spat, voice dripping with contempt at Charles' order. "You think you can scare me off with your empty threats?"

“I don’t think it’ll be so empty if i-,” He pulled out his gun from the waistband of his pants, aiming it at the mans groin, then moving to his head, “-happen to give you a demonstration of what exactly happens when you fuck with something of mine.”

The color drained from the man's face. Maybe he had just come to realize who he was fucking with.

“She was yours? I’m sorry, I didn't know!”

“Save it.” He hissed, cocking the gun and aiming it directly at his head. “I’ll make sure that you les fils de putes never see the light of day again.”

It was over in the blink of an eye, with just the sound of a gun being fired, followed by the thumping of a body.

You hadn’t even realized it when he came to you, wrapping his jacket around you as he picked you up, allowing to you bury your face in his neck.

"I've got you," he whispered. "You'll be fine now."

As he turned to exit, Lewis had finally shown up, standing at the entrance with an eyebrow raised at the dead body then you.

“Do i get to ask-”

“No.” Charles answered stonily. voice clearly agitated as he responded to Lewis. “Make sure those creeps get taken care of. I already had the pleasure of taking care of one of them.”

“Duly noted. It was nice seeing you, and you must be busy with… her, so I’ll be off to take care of the others then.” He said, as he signaled to his bodyguards to comb through the area.

“Thank you.” He said begrudgingly as he lifted you up once again.

You could feel him retracing his steps, motion blurred until you stopped at the entrance once more, in front of his car.

Gently, he set you down and you still clung to him, shaking slightly as you climbed into the seat.

He followed after you, directing the man in french as he put an arm around you, pulling you somewhat closer.

“Wh.. what happened to Ollie?”

The look of concern turned to a look of slight annoyance, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“Even now you’re thinking of someone else, mon coeur. What am i going to do with you?”

You stumbled over your words, yet you were resolute in what you wanted to say.

“Please don’t punish him, i was the one who left him.”

“Don’t worry, no one is getting punished. But you, however-”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the barrelage of words to hit you, yet nothing did. Instead, one of his hands came up to hold your face, thumb gently stroking your jaw.

“Mon petit coeur, m'écoutes-tu parfois (sweetheart, do you ever listen to me)?”

You opened your eyes, looking at him.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That I thought another man took you from me? I warned you what would happen, and yet you still came. See what happened?” His grip on your jaw tightened slightly, tilting your head upwards so you were looking him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You have nothing to apologize for, mon coeur. In fact, it should be me who apologizes." he murmured, his voice soothing compared to his actions.

“But then why…?”

“Je t'aime (I love you). It’s because I love you, I want you. More than anything.”

Charles's lips met yours in a kiss, overpowering the adrenaline in your veins as he titled his head, pushing deeper into the kiss. You could feel his overwhelming warmth as he pulled you closer, body to body in the back of the car.

As you broke it off, the heat rose to your face at the string of saliva connecting you both. You tried to pull away but he only seemed to get closer, eye to eye with you.

"Charles?" you breathed, longing erupting like your heart, beating against the cage of your ribs.

“Listen to me chérie, I should’ve never let you go like that. You’re going to be mine now, that way I can keep you safe, Is that clear?” He murmured against your lips, voice dark yet pleading. You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, lovesick and blinded by adoration.

With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, forehead against his as you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his embrace.

There was no escaping him. You were his as he was yours. You could never escape, now that he had you like this.

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

Text

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

TAGGED @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody @watercolorskyy @fulla02 @menaosama @cookielovesbook-akie

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x you #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#₊˚ପ⊹ hightower green 🕷#-ˋˏ ༻addendums & extras 💮༺ ˎˊ-#🌼━━･❪ requested ❫ ･━━🌻

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senanatheskenana · 5 months

Text

Being Their Soul Mate <3

Tanjirou, Zenitsu, Inosuke x reader (separate)

Tanjirou Kamado

From the moment you got close enough for Tanjirou to smell, he knew you were his soul mate. And before you know it, he's sprinting towards you, following the perfect smell. He stops in front of you, blushing like a fool from head to toe.

You can feel the pull towards him, even without an introduction. Your eyes can hardly leave each other, basking in the overwhelming silence. You smile at him, your own cheeks tinted pink, holding out your hand to him. He jumps out of his daze and grips your hand enthusiastically, bringing it to his lips to place a heartfelt kiss on your knuckles.

"I'm sorry to be so forward, i really should have introduced myself before. Please forgive me!" he bows deeply- so deeply you think his head may hit the floor. You fight back a sheepish laugh, shaking your head.

"My name is Tanjirou Kamado, it's beyond a pleasure to meet you," he still holds your hand carefully, loose enough for you to pull it away should you desire to. You don't.

"I'm (f/n) (l/n). I never imagined my soul mate to be as sweet as you, Tanjirou," you can see how his face turns even redder at your words, stuttering out broken sentences.

You gently squeeze his hand, "Did you want to join me on my walk? we have a lot to talk about, I feel"

He nods eagerly, letting you pull him through the streets, all while staring bashfully at the way your hair sways as you move. He thinks he might already be in love.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

'Marry me!'

Those were the words inked into your wrist. A brash, scribbling handwriting. Admittedly you were worried about the circumstances of you meeting your soul mate, given the intense first words.

Evidently, the situation was not nearly as sad as you worried it could be. You weren't being married off, no.

Your soul mate was just super weird.

You shake your leg, hoping to remove the boy from his hold. He's sobbing on the floor, mumbling incoherent pleas at you, still shaken up from the demon he would have been attacked by, had you not struck.

"W-what the hell? You can't just spring that on someone!" you squeal. Finally, he lets go, a look of shock on his face. A moment later a shockingly warm sensation takes over the two of you. You grip your wrist, and he scratches at his shoulder, letting out yelps of 'ouchies'

You look down at your wrist to see the letters glowing gold, pulsing against your bones. Zenitsu gazes up at you momentarily before bawling and returning to clinging onto your legs. You take the time to help him up while his two friends watch in confusion and embarrassment at his actions.

He holds both of your hands and brings them to his cheeks, and you can feel how hot his face is. "Y-you're my soul mate. That means you have to marry me"

You sigh but smile. At least he was enthusiastic, you guessed.

"Maybe let's just start with a date and we can go from there" His tears disappear at your words, replaced by a gigantic smile, not even you can resist.

Inosuke Hashibira

For as long as Inosuke can remember, he's had the name (f/n) (l/n) engraved into his collarbone. Too bad he couldn't read it without Tanjirou's help.

"(f/n) (l/n)..." Tanjirou taps his chin in thought for a moment before gasping, "I got it- that's the ice pillar's name! "

Zenitsu fawns at the idea, "Wow, imagine having a soul mate strong enough to be a Hashira"

He hears the word strong and immediately puffs out his chest, "If they're strong, I'm gonna beat 'em!" Tanjirou now realises that Inosuke doesn't know the concept of Soul Mates.

By the time he tries to explain it, the boy is sprinting through the courtyard, dodging pillars and kakushi.

"Inosuke-" Tanjirou cannot finish his mortified plea.

"ICE HASHIRA COME HERE AND FIGHT ME!" everyone turns towards him in shock and confusion.

"Don't be so loud! if you really wanna see them, they're sitting on that bench" Sanemi scowls at the group of boys, making Tanjirou blanch, uttering apologies.

You're peacefully lying across the bench, nose planted firmly in your book when a shadow falls over you. Slowly you gaze up at the man towering over you before moving to sit up straight.

You recognise the boy in the checkered haori, smiling "Hello Tanjirou. It's nice to see you again. Are these your friends"

Before a smiling Tanjirou can respond, Inosuke brings his sword down beside your hand.

"FIGHT ME!" his face flushes with blood as he seethes under his mask.

You give him a serene smile, "I'm sorry but I believe it would be dangerous for you if I were to fight back."

He pays no mind and swings his sword above him. He looks down only to find you gone in the blink of an eye. In less than three seconds, his katanas are wrenched out of his hands as he is pinned to the ground.

Tanjirou gasps at the embarrassingly short battle- if you could call it such. "Inosuke! Are you both alright?"

'Inosuke?'

You glance down at the man under your foot, "Is your name Inosuke Hashibira?" you ask as calmly as ever, gently releasing him from the hold.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" he scowls under his mask. He doesn't know why he's so nervous around you but it's pissing him off.

"My name is (y/n), the ice Hashira," your smile has an unanticipated calming effect on inosuke, "it would seem we are soul mates"

he blushes at your giggle, still not understanding what a soul mate is. He looks at Tanjirou for help, who sighs.

It was going to be an agonising conversation. He drags the boar boy away, inosuke still staring at you as you wave them goodbye. He wouldn't admit that he missed you already.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #zenitsu x reader #inosuke x reader #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer fluff #kny #kny x reader

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secularprolifeconspectus · 23 days

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Quick Pro-Life Responses

Keep in mind: the fundamental disagreement between pro-life and pro-choice is on whether a fetus is being formed into a person, or if the fetus is already a person and is simply developing.

Confidently assert, “you say that because you think a fetus is not a person yet.”

They may concede fetuses are people in word, but still not conceptualize them as full people worthy of equal consideration.

“I have the right to bodily autonomy.”

Abortion is literally suffocation, poisoning, or dismemberment of a living human organism.

Abortion induces fetal demise by depriving a human of oxygen, blood, or vital function.

Bodily autonomy does not justify abuse of power and excessive force over a helpless person.

Abortion, a disproportionately brutal response to a passive threat, is aggressive violence.

“No one has the right to use my body.”

Correct. But, a prenatal person does not use a pregnant person’s body. They have no agency.

A pregnant person’s body takes care of the prenate. This care is ordinary and healthy.

Abortion is not like refusing care to a dying person, it is like murdering a healthy captive.

No one has the right to murder someone who they caused to be dependent on them.

“I have the right to revoke my consent.”

When you give consent, you agree to accept the foreseeable outcomes and risks of an action.

The creation of a bodily dependent is a foreseeable outcome of consensual intercourse.

You cannot revoke consent to outcomes. You can revoke consent to actions.

You may not violently sacrifice a helpless person to “mitigate” a risk of a consensual action.

“Anything dependent on my body is a parasite.”

If you make parasites, then you’re a parasite; it’s misogynist to suggest women are parasites.

The female body would not actively try to make pregnancy happen if it were parasitic.

Prenates never directly cause pregnant people harm; they are not aggressors or parasites.

Using developmental dependency to justify murder is simultaneously ageist and ableist.

“An embryo is just a clump of cells.”

Human embryos meet NASA’s criteria for the characteristics of distinct living organisms.

Human embryos are self-directed and their development follows a body plan.

Human embryos are organized and individual. They already have inherited capacities.

Tumors and gametes do not follow an organized body plan.

“Early humans have no cognitive capacities.”

By week 3, the embryo has a spine and is developing a nervous system.

By week 5, the embryo has a rudimentary brain that controls their pulse.

By week 8, the embryo has pain reflexes and can move their limbs.

It’s incredibly ableist to use the cognitive inabilities of a human being to justify their murder.

“If a fetus is a person, so is a brain-dead human.”

A brain-dead human is, obviously, dead. It’s an oxygenated corpse, the remains of a person.

Death occurs when human organisms stop resisting entropy and lose organic integration.

Preborn people actively resist entropy (decay) and have organic integration (unity).

An early human organism isn’t dependent on a mature brain to organize her vital functioning.

“Later abortions only happen for medical reasons.”

According to two studies by pro-abortion researcher at UCSF Katrina Kimport, this is untrue.

Kimport’s studies found that the reasons for later abortions are similar to early abortions.

Later abortions aren’t euthanasia; infants are stabbed with lethal injections and dismembered.

Perinatal hospice and palliative care relieve suffering. Dying babies deserve love, not murder.

“What about rape and incest?”

Abortion is not evidence-based treatment for sexual trauma. Abortion is traumatic as well.

A preborn child should not be condemned to the death penalty for their father’s crime.

It is safe for most menstruating children to carry pregnancies to viability with sufficient prenatal care.

Children conceived in incest are likely to have disabilities; that’s not reason to murder them.

“What about health of the mother?”

Every abortion ban in the US has exceptions for if the mother’s life or body is in grave danger.

We are not against tragic cases of triage. We are against elective induced abortion.

Some procedures coded medically as abortions aren’t legally or ethically defined as abortions.

Pro-life doctors report that the bans have not impeded their ability to treat their patients.

Your Core Arguments

There is no sound evidence or consistent logic that proves the preborn are the only class of human beings exceptional to the rule that humans are people with equal rights.

If a being is in the dynamic process of bonding with us as kin, then that being is a whole actual person by the manner of actively and inherently relating to our collective humanity.

Embryonic humans are full and equal people like us because they latently embody our same capacities and are manifesting them as we are, on account of sharing our nature.

#pro life #anti abortion #prenatal justice #hide #abbreviation

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fangswbenefits · 8 months

Text

The Arrangement (11) - First Light

Chapter summary: A much needed discussion takes place and it ends with Astarion coating his daggers with poison.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma. Mentions of oral sex. Blood drinking,

Word count: 4.3k

Author's note: I am still unable to reply to comments (I'm waiting for tumblr support to fix this... I read all of the, I promise. You can also send and ask or head to ao3 so I can reply there. Thank you!

Series masterlist

Ao3

Wyll Ravengard was the picture-perfect of integrity.

Well, if you were to exclude his past dealings with the half-devil Mizora. But even then, he had been mostly justified in his assessment of the situation.

So it came as no surprise when you weren't able to find a single trace of judgement on his face.

Only evident concern.

Shadowheart had quickly filled him in on the Waterdeep situation as well as provided him with enough context when it came to Ava.

“Well, this is a… mess,” Wyll eventually drawled out.

Astarion, who was sitting to your right, immediately snickered. “Understatement of the year.”

Shadowheart, who was sitting to you left, promptly quipped, “I wonder whose fault that is.”

He leaned forward to glance at her. “Darling, all that pent-up frustration must–”

You heaved a deep sigh as you nudged him with your elbow, not in the mood to moderate their venomous exchange. “Enough!”

Wyll took a seat across from yours as a Fist stood by his side, hand clasping the handle of his sword in a silent warning.

“You should have told me about your arrangement with Ava,” he said, locking eyes with you. “I know all too well how some propositions are just rotten from the start and doomed to fail.”

Tension and guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

Not even half an hour ago, you had been able to momentarily push aside the chaos that had been hurled at you in such short notice.

“It seemed like a fair exchange – if her words are to be believed, that is,” you said.

Wyll tensed up. “There is nothing fair about offering your blood to bloodthirsty fiends as an exchange.” He then glanced at Astarion. “No offense.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “None taken, darling.”

But Wyll did have a point even if your arrangement with Astarion was nothing akin to the one with Ava.

Yet…

“Nothing is set in stone. I don't have to go through with any of it.”

From beside you, Shadowheart managed an irritable look. “I cannot be the only one who finds all of this rather convenient. Even if there is someone connected to Cazador after you, why would she withhold that information? Doesn't she need you safe and sound, Astarion?”

“I suppose so, but who's to say? I would need to talk to her,” he said, eyes on Wyll. “I have to talk to her.”

Wyll immediately understood the implication in his words. “Now?”

“Well, obviously not now,” he said indignantly.

The sun was still up and dusk was hours away.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” you intervened, heart racing in your chest. “We need to find out first if there's something that links all of this to Ava.”

“Regardless of that, she still needs to answer for her deranged proposition,” Astarion replied.

Shadowheart scoffed. “You were the one who endangered her in the first place with that bizarre deal.”

He was on his feet faster than you could blink, scowling. “Do not make the idiotic mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for her.”

She rose from the sofa, matching his defyance. “Oh, I am sure you care for her – in your own twisted way.”

“Can you two stop it?” you half-shouted, coming to stand in between them before he could retort. “This is pointless!”

They glared at each other in silence for a moment before parting ways, with Astarion sinking down on a chair whilst Shadowheart began pacing around the room, evidently distressed.

“My friends, we need to think critically here,” Wyll spoke again. “Arguing with each other is the last thing we ought to do right now.”

Silence followed as tension dispersed.

“Now, as we wait for Lae'zel and Gale to return, I must ask a few questions, Astarion.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh, this should be fun.”

Wyll ignored his snarky remark, assuming a more serious demeanour. “Why would you resort to her in the first place? Was her promise more solid than the Wish spell?”

“There were no promises made,” he said acidly, a nerve clearly having been struck. “She’s merely experimenting and the prospect seemed too good to pass.”

“So, your blood for a way to lessen your vampiric hunger? That was the deal?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you watched as Astarion tensed up slightly.

He had never shared with them just how deep the horrors he endured under Cazador's command truly twisted inside him.

How all of it had taken a toll on his ability to be intimate with someone without feeling tainted.

How it had ultimately driven him into striking a deal with someone like Ava as despair took root.

And it wasn't your place to reveal any of it.

So you merely sat back and observed him in silence.

“It seemed good enough back then,” he said coolly. “Besides, it could also be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

That had Wyll arch an eyebrow. “The spawn?”

“Petras has been sending letters to report back, and – well, let's just say that dealing with 7,000 hungry vampire spawn isn't an easy feat,” he said. “I figured that if her experiment were to be successful, then it'd be beneficial for them as well.”

Oh.

Shadowheart waggled her eyebrows as her feet came to a halt. “So you weren't merely thinking about yourself?”

“Initially, yes. Of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“However, I was the one who doomed them to eternal hunger, so it seemed fitting I'd help.”

“They were doomed either way,” you quickly pointed out. “And it was Cazador's doing.”

His head turned to you. “Be it as it may, their hunger isn't sated for long. I know that all too well.”

Astarion wasn't exactly the epitome of selflessness, but you knew he had come to change some of his ways in the past few weeks after all the events that had unfolded.

And when it came to his own hunger, you figured old habits did die hard.

His eyes then landed on your neck for a moment before looking away.

“I reckon I already know the answer to this, but did you even plan ahead?” Shadowheart said, crossing her arms. “How would you even make this feasible for thousands of spawn with just your own blood? Or were they really just an afterthought?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Ava was handling the … logistics, shall we say. My blood would be the starting point, but not a requirement.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. “And you took her word for it… blindly. You simply trusted some monster hunter with a blood fetish? This is ridiculous even for you.”

He was definitely a passionate admirer of the ‘laugh now, cry later’ school of thought, which also meant that when the consequences hit… they would hit hard.

“It's not like progress was being made with the Wish spell, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

A chill rushed through you like a knife. “Only a few weeks had passed, Astarion. All you had to do was wait–”

And then he snapped. His seemingly calm demeanour finally cracking open and revealing the hurt underneath.

“For centuries, all I did was wait! There were times I wished he would just destroy me once and for all to rid me of the burden of being ‘alive’ under such conditions,” he snarled, rising from the chair as he faced you. “I turned away from all that power I could have – the ritual… everything! I – I just…” His voice faltered and he heaved a sigh, reining back his outrage as his face softened into that expression that just broke you. “Is it such a crime that I want better for myself?”

You shook your head, feeling for him, but… “These things take time. Despair leads to rushed actions.”

He grimaced. “So you'd have me turn to hope?”

“Yes.”

He clicked his tongue. “There's nothing quite as cruel as hope, darling.”

You heard Wyll let out an exasperated sigh from across the room. “Astarion, I will not judge you for the decision you made to mingle with Ava – you had your reasons. But the consequences seem severe enough even if she isn't involved in either of the killings.”

He remained silent.

“It's not just about you anymore. She took an interest in her blood and is now using it as a bargaining chip,” he said. “That is unacceptable.”

“I fully agree with Wyll,” Shadowheart said as she came to sit next to you once again.

“And that is why you'll let me go to her,” Astarion said.

“You're still under house arrest. The Council of Four will–”

“To Hells with them all!” Astarion said through clenched teeth, fangs peeking through. “We're your friends, are we not? And since you're so adamant about my fault in this, allow me to set things right.”

“A good call,” Shadowheart chimed in with a nod.

Wyll seemed taken aback by his words and his frown deepened. “I may have the final word as the Grand Duke, but I cannot consciously go against a collective ruling.”

“The circumstances have changed,” Astarion retorted simply. “I will go to her and you're free to have your Fists point a thousand stakes at me along the way if it eases your mind.”

You could tell Wyll felt torn between duty and reasoning, and you didn't envy him in the slightest.

“You don't understand the consequences of–”

Astarion's face darkened and a devious smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, darling. I do understand. I simply do not care.”

Wyll took a deep breath, clearly realising he was fighting a losing battle.

He turned to face the Fist by his side. “Send word to the Council.”

The tall and broad man nodded before exiting through the front door.

“You can't be serious,” Astarion scoffed. “You should have kept this between us. They don't have to know.”

But Wyll merely shook his head. “We can do things your way and my way.”

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan.

“I'm coming with you,” you said, fully determined..

Shadowheart immediately gripped your arm firmly. “No.”

Wyll rose from his seat. “He shall not go alone, but you don't need to get more involved in this than you already are.”

Astarion turned to face you and raised one hand. “Absolutely not. You stay.”

That made your blood boil almost instantly and a flash of anger crossed your face. “I can fend for myself. Just let me–”

But your words were muffled by a deafening swirling and pulsing sound that came from outside.

In no time, the door was slammed open as a visibly irritated Lae'zel stormed inside.

“Tsk'va! Mages and their nauseating portals,” she grumbled before closing the door shut and plunging the room in candlelight once again. “Almost spilled the contents of my stomach. Twice.”

Both you and Shadowheart flocked to her side and you spoke first, “Are you alright? Where’s Gale?”

She nodded dismissively, placing her esteemed greatsword on the long table. “He stayed behind to converse with a few of his acquaintances, trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Well? What happened, then?” Astarion asked as he approached the three with you with Wyll right behind him.

“The man succumbed to a multitude of slashing wounds.”

Your eyes widened as you gasped.

“Slashing wounds? Was it an animal? A monster?” Wyll immediately pressed.

“We do not know. It was a rather brutal sight even for someone like me,” Lae'zel said with a frown.

A shiver spread across your body and you felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“Was there anything odd about it?” Shadowheart asked.

“Because a man being brutally shredded to pieces isn't odd enough?” Astarion said with a scoff.

She ignored him. “Were there traces of necrotic magic?”

Lae'zel arched a brow. “No. What's with this interrogation?”

Shadowheart was definitely trying to find a common element between the two deaths… and Ava.

And it seemed that there was nothing there.

Yet.

“We are trying to figure out if Ava could have had a hand in this.”

Lae'zel didn't budge. “Who?”

“Ava.”

Lae'zel turned to Astarion. “Your hairdresser?”

This time, Shadowheart clicked her tongue impatiently, hands on her hips. “Astarion struck a deal with some monster hunter turned blood merchant and got her involved.” She extended one arm to at you. “This Ava woman now wants her blood for whatever nefarious reason and might also be the one to blame for the death that led to them getting arrest and – quite possibly – the one from today.”

Your eyes widened, quite astonished that she was able to spill all that information in one swift breath.

If the circumstances weren't quite so dire, you would also have chuckled from how she sounded like a child who was telling her strict parent on her misbehaving sibling.

Astarion was obviously offended. “Conveniently leaving out the part where I am entitled to mingling with whomever I want, and that I was completely oblivious to Ava's finding and her proposal.”

Lae'zel glanced at you. “What proposal?”

“It's fine. Don't worry. I won't go through with any of it,” you said reassuringly, placing your hand on her wrist, knowing fully well she was itching to swing her sword on him. “This is all one big mess, but he truly didn't know.”

Shadowheart growled. “You do not have to keep defending him!”

Wyll spoke before you could. “Shadowheart. I understand your indignation, but we need to move on from the constant pointless bickering. What is done is done.”

Astarion clapped thrice. “Ah! The voice of reason!”

She threw him a death glare before crossing her arms and tapping her foot irritably on the floor, but not uttering another word.

Lae'zel, on the other hand, had her narrowed eyes set on Astarion. “You are fortunate she adores that pretty head attached to your body.”

“Was that a compliment, Lae'zel?” he taunted.

“Your ability to turn any remark into an opportunity to feed your ego is truly astounding, Astarion.”

He smirked happily in response. “I do my best – or worst, depending on your taste.”

“Enough of this,” you interjected as you stared at Lae'zel. “When is Gale returning?”

She shrugged. “Unclear. He is also trying to find another contact who might help out with the Wish spell.”

“No.”

All heads turned to Astarion.

His brows knitted together. “No. No one else is getting involved until we figure out what is happening.”

Your eyes met his in mingled surprise and confusion.

Even Shadowheart was stunned silent as her face softened.

“I thought you wanted this more than anything,” Wyll asked.

“Well, yes. But not when people are turning up dead all around me.”

Lae'zel frowned. “So, all of this for nothing? Had a sudden change of heart about your inability to walk in the sun again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Heavens forbid I'm the one pointing the moral compass in the right direction. Don't act so surprised, darling. I still know what I want and what I need to do.”

You closed the distance between you and him, worry brewing in your heart.

“Astarion, the Wish spell isn't easy to come by. It's not easy to find someone willing to teach it and Gale is a powerful wizard and strong candidate,” you said, trying to reason with him as you placed a hand on his arm. “I understand your reluctance, but we might have to wait even longer if this opportunity is disregarded.”

He didn't even flinch. “This is ultimately my choice, and I choose to wait. I've had it with others dictating how I should feel and act. This is the sensible thing to do.”

For centuries, he had belonged to everyone – to anyone – but himself.

Both in body and mind.

So, if this was what he truly thought was best for him, who were you to deny him of it? Maybe you would have chosen differently, but this wasn't truly about you, was it?

He would tell you otherwise, of course. That you had been the stepping stone to his healing process since the nautiloid crash, but you couldn't and wouldn't take full credit for it.

This was a joint effort and you would empower him all the way through.

“I stand with you,” you said eventually said, breaking the silence.

He gradually relaxed under your touch.

Shadowheart spoke next, “I respect your decision, Astarion. We need to see if there is a link between the two deaths. I can go ahead through the portal and ask Gale to return.”

He nodded.

“Very well,” she said with a curt smile.

Wyll approached the door. “I will inform the guards to accompany you once dusk hits, Astarion.”

He nodded again. “Thank you.”

Lae'zel then cursed and left the room with a loud bang behind her as the door closed shut.

Your hand came to his shoulder and his crimson eyes were on you again. “Let me come with you.”

“No.”

You scowled. “I'm not some frail sorcerer. I can stand by your side and help.”

This time, he chuckled. “Sweetheart, you are more capable than most of us combined here. My reluctance doesn't stem from my lack of faith in your abilities,” he said, voice firm and collected. “If anything were to happen to you because of me, I'd never forgive myself. Allow me to handle this.”

Your heart was hammering fast in your chest from his words, and even though you wanted to argue with his decision, you held your tongue back.

In truth, you were mostly scared Ava would have something up her sleeve and hurt him. That was what was eating at your nerves.

But still, you nodded

It was settled then.

You made your way down the corridor, coming to a halt as the faint glow spilled from inside his room.

The door was open for a change.

A comforting smile curled your lips, knowing you'd find him inside.

As you approached the doorway, you spotted Astarion across the room, flicking through a few pieces of cloth placed on the round table.

You knocked twice on the wood “May I?”

He nodded. “It's your house.”

“Well, it's your room,” you retorted. “For now, at least,” you quickly added, not wanting to seem overbearing. After all, he wasn't ultimately here on his own volition.

“You don't have to keep asking,” he said with a faint smile.

Your eyes landed on his bed as you walked in, causing your heart to skip a beat.

A few hours ago, the two of you had been lost in each other's pleasure on that very same spot. Now, the bedclothes had been laid sprawled across it, no creases or any remaining proof of your earlier endeavour.

The two of you had been robbed of after care and a much needed talk about what had happened.

Even if he had seemed quite content during and after all of it, you found yourself always hung on the fear that you had rushed through it all.

So, you needed the affirmation. You needed to hear his thoughts on it and to ensure no boundaries had been crossed.

You approached the table and your gaze roamed cross the clear vials that he had placed by his twin daggers.

Odourless.

Colourless.

Poison.

“Lethal?”

He dabbed a selected piece of cloth on the clear liquid. “No.”

An uneasy feeling began to take root. “Do you think she'll try to hurt you?”

“It would be rather foolish of her,” he mused, dragging the damp fabric along each blade, coating them in a fine layer of poison. “But I've been wrong before about people, so – as they say – better safe than sorry.”

It wasn’t the reassurance you were seeking, but Astarion was more than capable when it came to self-defence.

“Besides, she needs me more than I need her,” he concluded, inspecting the glinting blade close to his eyes. “And if she fails to provide satisfactory answers, the Fists will deal with her.”

You nodded, but still failing to push your fear aside. “What if there is really someone after us? What if she's not connected to any of this?”

You had purposefully let out the faint implication that maybe there was a connection to Cazador. He didn't need to be troubled with that in case Ava was bluffing.

Astarion sheathed both daggers on either side of his waist before his eyes landed on you. “If that is the case, then she will tell me who it is. And she better have a godsdamned good justification for why she thought I would allow you to be involved.”

You absentmindedly bit your lip and he smiled warmly, coming to stand in front of you, wiping his hands clean from any trace of poison.

Silently, he leaned to press a lingering kiss on your forehead, his cool lips making you flinch slightly.

It was as if a surge of lightning had been cast throughout your body, setting you alight.

“About earlier…” you said, swallowing your nervousness.

He traced your jawline with his thumb before tipping your head back so you could properly meet his gaze.

“Darling, already back for another round?”

You broke into laughter. “No! No… that wasn't what I trying to say.”

He tapped your nose lovingly and it was as if the two of you were long-time lovers, used to each other's teases and mannerisms.

Your heart skipped yet another beat.

“I know. Just couldn't miss the opportunity to have you all flustered for me again,” he said with a devious grin. “But do go on.”

“I just want to make sure… it was alright… what we did, I mean,” you said in a whisper.

Astarion's brows furrowed together. “I thought that was pretty much evident…”

A lump swelled in your throat.

You truly didn't want to overstep any lines.

But you had to know. You had to hear it.

“I am talking about… up here,” you said, pressing a finger softly to his temple. “I… just want to make sure you're truly fine. That we're truly fine.”

You held your breath for a moment, dreading a worrisome reply.

He caught hold of your hand and pressed your finger to his lips. “I will always tell you if it's too much.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you allowed yourself to breathe normally.

Still…

You swallowed again. “Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he said, using your own finger to tap the tip of your nose, earning a heartfelt giggle from you.

“So… it wasn't too much?”

“No,” he said truthfully.

You nodded as he gripped your chin. “How did it feel?”

He paused for a while, pondering. “It felt… right.”

Your stomach turned and your heart sped up from how close he was to you.

How close he felt to you.

“I want to kiss you,” he said all of a sudden. “May I?”

You felt as though you would melt into a puddle from how desperate he sounded.

“You don't have to always ask,” you said truthfully.

He then pressed his cool lips to the corner of your mouth and you instinctively gasped. “I just adore the sound of your voice when you let me in.”

His lips moved to the opposite side, lingering there, and a rush of heat pooled in your cheeks.

“May I kiss you, darling?” he asked once more, pulling back just enough for his lips to barely touch yours. “May I taste you?”

Gods…

“Please do.”

He didn't need to be told twice.

The kiss started off slow at first as his lips molded into yours. But as soon as you made way for his tongue to slide inside, Astarion became the image of hunger.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed both thumbs on your chin, so you'd open up wider for him.

A flash of memory filled your mind and you recalled how he used to do the same whenever you were on your knees, struggling to fit his thick cock in your mouth.

“You can take more of me, can't you, my sweet?” he'd say, voice dripping with lust.

You'd always struggle at first. Always. But he was such a caring lover and he would always ensure you took your time.

You quickly shuddered as your clit began throbbing evenly.

His tongue was as relentless against yours as his cock had once been, but his eagerness and hunger had his razor-like fang nip at your lower lip, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you groaned from the sharp sting.

Astarion immediately pulled back and you stared at him in confusion.

You felt a few drops dribbling down your chin.

Why wasn't he tasting you?

His eyes were fixed on your lips and his eyes narrowed with bloodlust.

“You're letting it go to waste?” you asked, swiping your finger across the bleeding wound.

He swallowed with a strained smile.

Oh, he was struggling to hold back…

“Well, darling… I don't intend on leaving the house with my cock hard with your blood.”

You clenched so hard you felt a gush of wetness being squeezed out.

But there was only so much Astarion could withstand, so you couldn't fight the moan that tore through your throat as he placed the softest kiss to your lip.

“Just before I go,” he whispered. “So I can take you with me.”

You clenched again and you could feel your clit swell up with each throb.

He eventually parted from you, licking his blood-stained lips as his eyes held that lustful gaze you adored.

“I'll be back soon.”

You were left petrified in place as he swiftly made his way out.

It wasn’t fair how soaked you were.

How soaked he had left you.

You glanced over your shoulder and realised the door had been left open all along and you rushed to the window, tugging on the curtain.

The sun had set as he appeared down below, followed closely by two Fists.

And the single mage slayer.

The three of them trailed after his steps and darted off into the distance.

And you realised that without a mage slayer around to keep your magic at bay, you could simply vanish.

You glanced at the vials of poison on the nearby table and smiled.

TBC

Series masterlist

Ao3

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #the arrangement #astarion smut

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goldsainz · 1 year

Text

THE COOLEST DRIVER — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: when you introduced lando to your siblings, you didn’t think they would become so attached.

request: “Lando × reader. Your younger siblings who are 2 and 3 are crazy about Lando. Lando is amazing with them they don't like when you to hug/ kiss him Though. "No he's mine!" Your sister says as she pushes you away. When you go for a kiss. "My Lando time" your brother says. Snuggling into Lando. You find it adorable but annoying. Fans love it.”

warnings: im pretty sure that none

NOTE: thank you for requesting!!!! so this is short and sweet, and i also added a little smau at the end 🫶 i’m in my lando obsessed era. so if you suddenly see a lot of lando content posted, just let it be. silverstone grand prix has me so so excited, can’t wait… also fingers crossed lewis gets podium🤞

[ word count: 737 ]

Lando and you had been going out for quite some time now. It was as serious as a relationship could get, and evidently, he had met your family.

It was no surprise when your siblings got obsessed with him and just about followed him everywhere. They wanted to go to every Grand Prix you went to, because if you could, why couldn't they? It took quite some time for them to understand that you were an adult, and as such could do what you pleased.

Your brother adored Lando. He tuned in for every race and Lando quickly became his idol, even though he would never really say it out loud. Suddenly, he wanted to be a driver too. Your boyfriend was more than happy to help him out with his dream, and since he was so little, he could have a shot at doing it for a long time.

Your sister however, seemed to like Lando in a completely different way. Whenever she saw Lando he would hug him while burying her face in his neck, hiding her smitten face. There was no way you could ever kiss or even be too close to Lando if she was present, not if you wanted to avoid the tantrum she would throw. Claiming Lando was hers, and that you were stealing him from her.

Lando loved your siblings. It was refreshing to have such support from little humans, who idolised him and always got excited to see him. So it was no surprise when for this year’s Silverstone Grand Prix, his home race, he invited your whole family to the paddock.

When you broke the news to your siblings they ran to hug Lando, their excitement almost pushing him off balance as he attempted to hold both of them at the same time. It was a sight to behold, and you wished you would've gotten it on camera because it was just too precious.

“Go pack your bags!” You told them, watching as they scrambled to their rooms.

“I can’t believe they are coming.” Lando says, one wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug.

“They can’t even believe it themselves.”

You watched your parents talk with Lando over the schedule, all while holding you in his arms. They both couldn’t stop expressing their gratitude, and your boyfriend just repeated that it was his pleasure and there was nothing he would love more than having all of you there.

His sweet words made your heart rush, and you turned to face him just for a quick peck since your parents were still around. You should have known what a bad idea that was, because all of a sudden your siblings appear in the room and they cannot hold in their disgust.

“Ew!” Your brother shouted, covering his face with his little hands.

Your sister ran to push you off of Lando, not liking the sudden closeness. Your mother rolled her eyes at the dramatics your siblings loved to display. Lando just brushed off your mother’s concern, more amused at the reaction than anything.

“Hey! We’re not going to Silverstone if you behave like that.” You tell them, you know you’re lying because there is no way you are not taking them. Not when you know how excited they are.

“No!” Your sister screeches, wrapping her arms around Lando’s leg as if to show how much she wants to go.

“Did you pack your bags?” Lando asks your sister, kneeling down to her level.

“Yes.” She says, her voice muffled now that she has thrown her arms around him.

“And your brother?”

“I think so.”

Your brother takes his hands off of his face the moment he hears he was mentioned. Moving to sit beside Lando, an annoyed look passes his face as he watches his sister.

“You excited to go to Silverstone?” Your boyfriend asks, knowing full well your brother is bursting at the seams of excitement.

“Very!”

“Is there anyone you’re excited to meet?”

“Lewis!”

“Lewis?” Lando asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he hears the emotion on your brother’s voice.

“He’s so cool!”

“Is he?”

“Yes!” A giggle pushes its way past your brother’s lips, suddenly bashful at the admission.

“Cooler than me?”

“No, silly.” He says with an obvious tone, face palming himself as if the answer was obvious, “You’re the coolest driver ever!”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

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