#plotting devious things for when she comes back >:)

[breathofthewildyaverage]

My sister is at camp for a week so I’m making her Bangchan’s wolf fursona thing for when she comes back

[limerlove]

A BOUQUET OF GREED, A COUNTRY GIRL WITH NEEDS

pairing. bullrider!abby x fem!reader

eighteen+, minors dni. cowgirl!abby essentially, this is smut with the tiniest amount of plot, cheating (don't cheat on your partner y'all), strap!sex, munchcity, some excessive profanity.

“If your girlfriend could ride a bull this good, maybe she would actually beat me.” With her thick accent cutting through, not moving an inch, Abby is cemented in her ego.

Before tonight, she would believe the blazing heat swarming in your eyes had been a figment of her imagination. But then you’re dragging her to the back seat of her truck.

It’s a lucky break. Abby’s charm, her stroke of cockiness enabling her to leave a baby pink strap in her glove compartment.

An arrogant goddess for you to tame but seems all she’s doing is crushing you. Pleasing you. Doing everything in her power to have this moment ricochet in an everlasting timeline, one you’ll be forced to keep tucked away in your mind.

A sultry secret for the sinners to guard.

“Abs—” With a single glance, you warn her through accusatory eyes but she draws your sensitive and perked nipple in her mouth, flicking her tongue as she massages the other.

Intense cries escalate, a needy ache settling over you — a scratch you can’t reach — and she’s enjoying the fuck out of you bouncing on her cock.

Devious blue eyes look through blonde eyelashes, her signature hat on your pretty head. Even if you aren’t hers, you sure do look like it. All it took was some pretty words flying out of her mouth and your girl steaming after a loss to send you in the right direction.

“Keep ridin’, darling. You wanna be my cowgirl?” Abby shifts her hips upwards, thank fuck, but she gives you no time to adjust.

You nod, giving your supple compliance.

“Then enjoy the ride, sweetheart.”

With a firm hand on your ass, she guides your hips to meet the push the prized object inside of you, unable to stop yourself — all you can offer is clear submission.

“Oh fuck, Abbbyyyy, it’s—”

Eyes rolling into the back of your head as she fucks up into you vigorously, each moment she keeps on her mind, committing to a memory she never wishes to forget.

Each glide of her cock feels like an angel’s touch christening her swollen, puffy lips to perfection. There’s too much to answer for but her stupid southern accent wants to punish you further.

“Pretty slut you are. An even prettier angel just begging to be fucked right.” You can’t help but whimper in downright agony, your clit being abused isn’t enough. Desperately you need her to fuck you for the rest of your life.

Even so, an eternity of her lips, that mouth, these hypnotic hips encased in godly strength — it’s not enough. Unless you can have her whenever your sin feels the desire to reach, it can’t be.

“Need you, baby. Please. Don’t stop.” Whatever pride you were so desperate to cling onto evaporates like dandelions in the spring breeze.

“Yeah? Tell me what you need, sweet girl.” Abby smirks like she’s the best fuck you’ve ever had. The only thing you despise more is how true the statement rings.

Like a rooster before sunrise, you’re not sure what’s louder right now. You or the feathered friend.

“I wanna come, Abby. I-I’m so f-fucking close.” You desperately plead, as you slam yourself on her, using every bit of it to your advantage. There’s nothing more you want, a release to forget it all. The guilt floods your soul but she splits you like the red sea. 

Even god could forgive this. 

“Then tell me who the best bull rider is and I’ll get you there.”

“I think I’m handling the bull quite nicely. Maybe I’m better than you.”

“How about with a little pressure?” Abby questions before she’s pushing her thumb inside your mouth. A velvet tongue swirls, pulling off with a pop, when your drool glides to your chin.

Intricate, soft and full — there’s harmony in the way she circles your clit. “You’re so much better, god baby, no one has fucked me like this. Ever.”

It’s meant to be a mumble. A thought to be trapped in the forefront of your mind. But it releases out in the wild and she relishes every word. Caging your sinful moans in her lips, a lock only she can break, you come completely undone.

Bucking like a wild horse being broken for the first time, just in time for the show.

“Don’t be shy now, pretty girl, let me hear you. You’re my fucking girl, my pussy to fuck — my cock making this slutty cunt spill.”

Abby keen on being unforgettable, slaps yours ass as she fucks you through the highest of pleasure. Until shakes take over your body as you cling onto her frame.

For a moment, just when you think you’re free, when you’ve given all you have to offer. Abby hasn’t quite had her fill. Laying you out where you’re comfortable, pushing your leg up to your chest, flattening her tongue at the head of the rose, watching as each petal begins to blossom. 

“You don’t have to—”

Abby moans your name and wages wars with each stroke of her tongue. The sweetest pussy she’s ever tasted. It reminds of her strawberry syrup, craving for your taste to stain the muscle of her tongue with the cries that shiver in the back of your throat. 

Weaving your hands in her golden roots, you push her into where she desires to be, head first into the thick of you accepting home. Flourishing as ever, she calls for you to return home — one you never knew you had to begin with. 

A destiny of intervention. 

Fuck, she’s practically made for it.

She consumes like a woman starved. As if Abby has thought of nothing else but this moment in weeks. You in her bright red chevy pickup, a long white stripe down the middle, each piece of stainless steel polished to perfection. A gem in her prized possession is a homecoming of some sort, one she forced by the will of her hand. 

But she’s always been the greedy type. Dying to eat more than her serving, taking you right off of someone else’s plate.

Never has she been shy to become the sinister succubus lingering in the shadows, praying to exploit the humming tucked in your finely laced panties that lie ripped on the floorboard. 

Opening her eyes and looking up to get a glance. You’re right there with her, hanging on her every move. Much to your surprise, she leans forward, chin resting on your soft stomach as you’re petrified. 

With fear? With love? Who’s to say what’s worse.

It’s a small saying, one you’ve heard the minute you call this small corner of the world your home — a devotion of the devil marks the sins of a fallen angel — some notion of superiority to keep satanic measures distant from the pure hearted. 

There was warning of this selfishness, the sinful heart and how it flourishes at the bottomless pit of dead roses, the light so hard to reach when the devil splits you apart for her pleasure alone.

A bouquet of greed will only bring you closer to her heart. Hands reach for the vines, pulling the petal from stem.

One by one, the immoralities of a fallen angel become righteous discipleship. Abby reaches for your hand and she smooths her fingers over a fluttering cunt. Every exquisite fold that belongs to her, and with a jerk of your hips, you fall into her command. 

“You’re gonna call her.” Abby speaks softly, her honey-soaked spills over. When she talks like this, you’ll do anything she asks. “And you’ll try not to moan my name when you talk to her but you know what’s going to happen, darling?”

“What?” A slap to your pussy sends you shaking in desperate despair.

“I’m not stopping until you do.”

[joonberriess]

⊹₊ ⋆ “love it when he hit and smack, too, baby lemme lick on your tattoos,”

TAGS — squat-riding!oc, porn without plot, messy sex, slight degradation, dirty talkin, creampies, oc is a nasty pretty thing, she’s cute, jk is pussy-whipped here, oc rides him so good she has him MOANING out loud, blasphemy(?) idk jk is a little devious, oc as a cute coquette and jk as her hot grunge bf, mentions of cum eating

WORD COUNT — 1.9 k

Jungkook knew he was fucked the moment that soft “Jungkookie” left your lips, you were all he could think about for days.

Could anyone blame him though? Even as he sat behind you with his large hands massaging over your soft feet, he still couldn’t believe he had gotten this lucky. “You’re so quiet.” You softly hum while tossing him a look over your shoulder, “Somethin’ wrong?” You purse your glossy lips in a soft pout.

“Nothing baby.” Jungkook gently squeezed your delicate calf, “Just lost in thought I guess.” He shrugs.

You stare at him for a few moments before pausing whatever was playing on your laptop, you turn on all fours and crawl towards him, “Tell me,” you stop in front of him—knees on either side and your face inches away from his, “I wanna hear it.” You softly say while eyeing his lips and chains appreciatively.

Jungkook admires your own dangling necklace with a tiny gold cross hanging so innocently. He licks his lips and sits up, “Do you? Or are you just saying that so you can distract me,” he chuckles breathily, “greedy little thing you are. Can’t even go one second without trying something.” He squeezes your cherub cheek gently.

You playfully pout and tilt your head, “I just wanted an excuse to say I’ll make you feel better,” you gently sway your hips side to side, watching with a tiny grin as Jungkook’s eyes follow your soft round cheeks sitting so perfectly in your pink silk shorts, “unless you don’t wanna..?” You softly breathe out.

Jungkook runs his tongue over his lip as he stares back at you with hooded eyes, “Don’t wanna what, hm?” He’s fucking with you of course, he just wants to hear it come out your mouth.

“Lemme ride it,” you innocently say, “don’t you wanna make it nasty and messy until your cum’s drippin’ out?” You purr softly while leaning in to kiss his cheek and then his jawline, inching upwards towards his ear, “ ‘m so wet for you Jungkookie, feel me,” you whisper while guiding his tattooed hand towards your shorts, exhaling shakily in excitement as he dips his fingers into your panties and slots them right up against your sticky pussy lips.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, letting you latch on to his neck as you marked him up like this was the last time you were going to see him, “You little fucking minx,” he grunts, “greedy little pussy can’t go one day without a fuckin’, baby’s so desperate for cock aren’t you?” He grabs your chin and forces you to face him, “Hm?”

You nod with a tiny ‘mm-hm’, “Always want you, can’t help that you fill my pussy so good… Always leaves me drippin’ n wanting more.” You softly say against his lips while grinding against his fingers, “ ‘s not my fault you made me like this.” You bat your pretty lashes at him and purse your lips.

Jungkook curses under his breath and meanly pinches your clit, “Then get to it since you wanna act like a little bitch in heat,” he pulls his hand out and lands a hard smack across your ass. You moan softly and eagerly clamber on to his lap, he attacks your neck in a flurry of kisses while wildly sucking over your soft skin, “so fucking soft,” he mutters, “there you go baby, go ‘head and take my cock out, wanna watch you ride it like the filthy little slut you are.” He whispers low.

You tilt your head and press your lips to his, your hand makes quick work of pushing his boxers down his thighs until they sit under his balls. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cockhead leaking precum, some of it dribbles down his shaft leaving a clear trail of pearly white on his cock.

“Can I..?” You ask ever so politely while begging him with those puppy eyes and your lip between your teeth.

Jungkook swallows harshly and nods, “Go on, not gonna ride itself.” He guides you over his cock, shoving your silk shorts out of the way and yanking your panties to the side with two fingers.

You bite your lip and position your sopping cunt over the head, sliding him through the sticky mess between your soft folds. There’s low squelching as you slide his cock over your sensitive clit and down to your winking hole. A low moan slips from your lips as your pussy hugs the tip, pink rim stretching to accommodate his thick cock. Your lips part in a ‘o’ after seating yourself firmly on his lap.

Jungkook huffs under his breath and lies back all the way while watching you with hooded eyes, “Not too loud baby,” he murmurs, “nice and slow—fuck, hear that, ‘s your little pussy dripping for me.” He lazily grins while throwing his arm behind his head, watching the way you rolled your hips in slow lazy circles.

“Mm.. ‘s not enough,” you quietly whisper while placing your hands over his abdomen, “can I? Pretty please, promise I’ll make it so good for you if you’ll let me,” you moan while rolling your head back, “ride it just the way you like Jungkookie.” You smile.

Jungkook bites down on his lip and holds back a loud groan, he can’t focus with the way you ride his cock like you’re trying to spell coconut on his dick. Your pussy hugs him just right as it drags over his sensitive cock, massaging his swollen shaft with the right amount of pressure and grip.

His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a muffled moan, “Fuck—yes baby, like that,” he grips your ass cheeks with both hands and moves you back and forth on his cock sensually, “feels so fuckin’ hot around me—nice n wet too.” He pants softly as massages both cheeks before smacking his hands against them.

You bite your lip—half-giggling, half-moaning—and move from his grip to bounce back on his cock a few times. Jungkook moans out and tosses his head back into the pillows, “Shit, like that—keep going.” You reach behind you to place your hands over his while you drag your pussy over his cock repeatedly, riding up to the tip before slamming back down.

Jungkook’s the one moaning and panting under his breath now, occasionally tiny little whimpers leave you but it’s nothing compared to Jungkook who looks like he’s getting the ride of his life. You slide your hips up slowly and then let your ass fall back on to his lap, your bubbly flesh rippling as they slap against his thighs. There’s a faint slick noise in the background as your pussy leaks over his fat cock, your creamy white slick dribbling down his shaft and to his balls.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out softly and pry his hands off your ass, he makes a wounded noise like it pains him to not be holding your ass. He lifts his head to look at you as if asking why, only to let out a long moan as his head slumps back, “Want you to fill me up,” you pout while placing your hands over his chest, knees knocked apart as you raised your hips, “want all of it in my pussy Jungkookie, promise I’ll clean my mess up,” your hips start moving sensually, you purposely clenched for that extra effect.

The bed rocked quietly under the weight of you two, it was accompanied by the dull thumping of your headboard knocking into the wall. To make things worse, your pussy was making these delicious little wet noises as his cock emerged with streaks of white creamy slick. He could see a white ring of slick form around the base of his shaft getting pushed back into your pussy and then coming right back down on his cock.

It was a fucking miracle your parents hadn’t come up to see what all the commotion was about. “Yeah?” He pants breathlessly, “Gonna be a good little cum dump and keep my cum warm in your sloppy little pussy?” He opens his eyes to look down at where your pussy meets his cock. You weren’t lying about making it messy..

“Mm-hm,” you moan, “promise. Not a drop ‘s gonna waste.” You huff and slam your hips down, rocking together before repeating the same thing over again. His cock hit that spot that drove you wild just right, and not wanting to lose the angle you kept fucking yourself back on him just greedily chasing the pleasure.

His eyes caught on to the dangling cross in his face, he watched it swing back and forth so innocently. Jungkook let out a poorly suppressed groan and looked up at your blissed out face in awe. You never failed to look so fucking pretty even in the throes of pleasure/sex. He’d for sure have a picture of you like this in his wallet or some shit.

“ ‘m gonna,” you quietly whine, “ ‘m gonna cum,” you whimper out while bouncing faster, “please, can I?”

Jungkook hisses as he slows you down, “Can you hold it in for me baby? ‘m so close too,” he whispers breathlessly while panting. He sees you give the tiniest of nods before he pulls you down so you’re lying over him, “Good girl,” he grits his teeth and begins plowing you from below, “good fucking girl.” He growls.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you hide your face in his neck, toes curling as he pounds his cock over and over again into your (already) sore pussy. “More, more, more,” you whine out while spreading your thighs apart a bit more.

Jungkook slaps his hips upwards as quickly as he can manage, his balls slap harshly against your ass as the sounds of skin on skin fill the bedroom along with your panting and breathing moans. He buries his face in your shoulder and bites down, not hard enough to bleed but enough for it to mark. His cock throbs and spurts of cum begin flooding your messy little cunt.

He doesn’t think he’s cum this hard ever since the night you both first started having sex.

You had let Jungkook take your virginity in the back of his pick-up truck, bent over with your bruised knees knocking into eachother while he fucked you like a man possessed from behind. Your poor little pussy was so swollen from the rough treatment, the pain and pleasure ended up becoming one and all you could do was beg for more while drool slipped from the corner of your lips. At a particular thrust Jungkook sent you squealing as you stood on your tippy toes, your pretty white sneakers contrasting Jungkook’s black boots as you whimpered and tangled your legs with his.

Jungkook’s mind blanks out as he reaches down to rub furious circles on your sensitive bud, he has you squirming in his lap as you clench down tightly before a low whine of his name escapes your lips. You both slump into each other until you roll off him and on to the bed next to him, “That was–”

“I know,” he replies, swallowing harshly, “you think they heard?” He turns to look at you.

You stare back with a dreamy look in your eye, “Dunno,” you shrug cutely before rolling over to climb over him, “but I feel empty,” you softly say and guide his semi-hard cock towards your pussy, “what? Gotta keep it in somehow.” You motion to your dripping cunt, you hiss in sensitivity before laying down on him, “So what are we eating?” You tilt your head with a cheeky smile.

Jungkook laughs breathlessly, “You’re seriously thinking about food?”

“Not me, I know what I’m eating.” You lick your lips deviously, giggling when you hear Jungkook moan in protest as his cock weakly twitches.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan

[scratchandfriends]

Second Chances (+18)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

WC: 3300

Synopsis: You stand up for yourself and end things with Astarion after finding out they aren't what you think they are. To his dismay, he might have really fucked up on this one... so he pleads for you back.

TW: ITS A LOT OF PLOT WITH SOME PORN! unprotected sex, complicated relationship, ANGST, p in v sex, oral fem receiving, creampies, pet names, dirty talk, yadda yadda yadda...

— —

You thought you and Astarion were an item. 

Lingering glances, sheepish smiles, a grip a bit too tight when he was pulling you out of the way of a trap, the way he would sometimes fall asleep next to you after feeding from your neck…

Oh, and the sex.

You had given your body to him each time he asked. It had only been twice, but you were excited and willing both instances. You thoroughly enjoyed the physical intimacy you shared, but there was no discussion on the status of your relationship. This didn’t bother you, of course, because the whole mindflayer-inside-your-brain situation was still front and center. 

..

But you thought things were going somewhere… and clearly you were incorrect. 

** At the Last Light Inn **

You couldn’t fall asleep so you thought you’d head down to the bar for a nightcap. 

You slip your trousers back on and messily tuck your sleeping tunic in to the waistband before heading out of your rented room and padding down the stairs in stocking feet. Before your rounded the wooden post at the bottom of the staircase, you hear the familiar devious giggle of your vampire lover. You stop in your tracks and can’t help but eavesdrop…

“Astarion, shouldn’t you be turning in soon? Your little… what was it? Treat? Made her way to bed ages ago. A shame to miss a good thing waiting for you…” Gale comments to the pale elf sitting next to him at the bar. 

“Oh stop. She’s just a bit of fun.” Astarion says with a smirk and a laugh. “She’ll be just as ready tomorrow if I don’t make it tonight. I’m not worried if she’s left waiting.” 

The vampire takes another long drink from his wine glass. 

Tears welled up in your eyes. 

Why? 

It’s not like either of you had said you were together… so why were you upset? 

You sniffle and blink back the wetness threatening to spill down your cheeks. You slip quickly towards the opposite corner of the bar and help yourself to a bottle of wine. You examine the label first, rolling it in your palms. You look for a vintage year. 

“Oh, who gives a shit.” You say exasperatedly before ripping the cork out with your teeth. 

You grab a glass from the shelves above you and pour a heavy cup of red wine. You round the bar, glass in one hand and bottle in the other, and settle yourself on a barstool. You try to block out the memory of Astarion dismissing your relationship by taking several gulps of wine. You wince a bit but pour yourself another cup once it’s empty. 

“Slow down, soldier, we still have a long way ahead of us tomorrow!” A booming voice comes from behind you. 

*whack* 

Karlach claps her huge hand on your shoulder with far more force than she intended. Just recently being able to touch others for the first time in years, she was still getting used to her own strength with friends. 

You stutter and cough as you choke on a mouthful of wine.

“Oof, sorry friend.” Karlach chuckles. “Didn’t mean to scare you!”

“I’m fine, Karlach.” You say with a fake smile. “Just need a drink before headed to bed.” 

“Alright, I won’t stop you, fearless leader! Just don’t expect me to hold your hair back if you’re hungover tomorrow!” Karlach laughs before heading off to her own stateroom. 

You sigh and bring the very full cup of wine to your lips. 

You take a gulp and close your eyes. The warmth from the first drink was starting to spread through your body and you hum in content. You take another sip. 

“I thought you had retired, darling…” A smooth, familiar voice purred in your ear. 

You open your eyes. Astarion was sidling up to the barstool next to yours. You didn’t even hear him approach. 

“Hmm…” You mused and turned your head away from his entirely. “Interesting coming from someone who isn’t worried if I’m left waiting.” 

Silence. 

You turn back to finally look at him, seated next to you at the bar. What was that look in his eyes? You had never seen him caught unawares before, so this expression was new to you.  

“Just a bit of fun, hey?” You say with venom in your words, cocking your head. 

Silence. 

“Nothing to say now.” You say before turning to face forward again and take another sip of wine. 

“What do you want me to say?” Astarion asks, desperately trying to keep up his casual facade. “What about what we have going on said ‘loving couple’ to you?” He says with a sneer. “We could die tomorrow, dear, you can’t be mad at me for that.” 

You huff out a tired laugh. 

You take another drink. 

“No, no I’m not mad at you.” You give a soft smile, blinking back tears still. “I’m mad at myself for thinking you could care about someone. I shouldn’t have assumed we had anything special. I was just another means to your ends. I won’t be making that mistake again.” You grab the bottle off the bar top and hop off the stool, ready to return to your room. 

“Tav…” Astarion starts as you walk away.

“I’m not your toy, Astarion.” You call as you turn around and begin to walk backwards, facing him still seated at the bar. “I’ll still let you feed from me, but that’s where our physicality ends. Hope you can understand.” You shoot him two middle fingers with a mean, fake smile before turning back around and heading up to your room. 

— — 

Weeks had gone by. 

Ketheric had been defeated and the Shadow Curse had been lifted. You had finally made your way into Baldur’s Gate, your home. You had barely spoken to Astarion in weeks, other than polite conversation amongst the group. You were avoiding him entirely. He caught you trying to lockpick a chest yourself, stumbling upon you after hearing your shouts of frustration. You called on him for nothing, making sure your tent was set up as far away from his as possible. 

Astarion hated it. He hated every second of it. 

He hated that you had been right before… you were just a plaything for him to manipulate at the time but now… now things were different. Perhaps things had always been different, but Astarion couldn’t recognize it then. 

The way the sun glinted off your teeth when you smiled…

The way you always volunteered to show off your (albeit terrible) Celtic dance every time the party broke into the wine reserves…

The way you stopped to pet every single cat you saw on the road…

Why were you so different?

When you removed yourself from him, Astarion’s demeanor shifted immediately. He was on edge, tense. He couldn’t focus on the task at hand, he was too worried about what you were thinking of him. He yearned for your touch. He shouldn't care… he told himself he wouldn’t care… but he found himself feelings thing he hadn’t felt before. Even your feeding sessions had changed. You had banned him from your neck and insisted he drinks only from your wrist as you busied yourself with a book or journal in your other hand. Immediately upon having his fill each time you waved him away… and it hurt him. 

— — 

You had rented the suite in Elfsong Tavern for your party as you sorted out the plans ahead of you. You sat on the plush featherbed combing out your long hair after a hot bath. The scent of lavender oil thickly permeated the air as you hummed a soft tune to yourself, getting ready to turn in for the evening. Just as you were finally thoroughly relaxed, you hear a knock at the door of your room. 

You sigh. 

You already knew who it was. Only one person sought you out at this hour, and for one reason. 

“Come in.” You call out. 

As expected, Astarion slinks through the wooden doorframe and closes the door shut behind him. He might have locked it, you weren’t sure… his hands were too fast. 

“I hoped you were still- oh.” Astarion stops in his paces as he lays his eyes on you. 

You were wearing a new night dress you had picked up at the fancy-dress shop in the lower city. You thought it was frivolous, but with Shadowheart’s urging to “live a little,” you purchased it. It was dark red, short and silk with lace decorating the edges along your upper thighs and breasts. You notice the elf staring at your figure so you pull and fidget at the hem of the nightgown. 

“Stop staring.” You scold. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You roll your eyes. 

“Not in this…” Astarion rakes his eyes over you again. “… this tasty little thing… you were expecting someone else?” He asks. 

“No, but it’s none of your business if I was.” You shift on the bed before lifting your arm up in his direction, hurrying him to take his drink and go. 

Astarion stalks towards you. He grasps your wrist in both hands and seems to contemplate it for a moment. You turn your face away and brace yourself for the icy bite, but it never comes. 

Astarion folds up your fingers into your own palm with his own. He keeps your hand held in his. You look up in confusion. 

“No… that’s not why I’m here.” He says softly. 

Your breath catches in your chest. What did he want? His gaze doesn’t leave yours. 

“Then… why did you come?” You ask timidly, secretly hoping in your heart of hearts he wasn’t here to kill you. 

Astarion says nothing, but keeps your hand locked within his own. 

The vampire slowly sinks to his knees before you, looking up at you with yet another expression you couldn’t recognize. You knit your brows together, confused. 

He brings your hand to his chest and flattens your palm against it. 

“I have been wrong… Not only have I been wrong, I’ve been an absolute, rotten bastard to you… and you’ve done nothing to deserve that. Tav, I’m here to… well I’m here to say… I’m sorry.” 

You blink several times, trying to process what the normally arrogant, confident man was saying on his knees in front of you. 

You swallow thickly. 

“You’re… sorry?” You repeat his words. 

“Yes. I don’t expect your forgiveness, nor do I deserve it, frankly… but knowing tomorrow might be my last day in Faerūn as a free man… I-I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least try to make amends.” Astarion says, as you’re reminded that your confrontation with his master is imminent and his fate is uncertain. 

“And you’re not just saying this because you miss sipping from my neck?” Your eyes narrow at the kneeling elf before you. 

“Gods no! Please, Tav. You may not feel the heart in my chest but I promise you it beats only for you.” Astarion pleads as he presses your hand further into his pectoral. “I miss you, Tav. I miss you near me, listening to me, touching me, holding me… I want, no- need you to believe me.” 

He looked so pathetic before you, a state you had never seen him in before… gripping your wrist tightly and gazing up at you with desperation in his eyes. You had to admit… you missed him too. 

You pull your hand back from his chest. 

“You’ve hurt me, Astarion… badly…” You scold him. 

“I know, I know and I can’t ever undo that. All I ask if for another chance. Please. Let me hold your heart again.” Astarion shuffles closer to you, still kneeling but now between your legs as you sat on the bed. He places his cold hands on either of your knees tentatively, as if you were an animal he didn’t want to frighten off. 

You think for a moment. You couldn’t bear to let him hurt you again, but he seemed genuine, vulnerable and pleading. His eyes sparkled and your chest fluttered with the feelings you had been shoving away for so long now. You bring your hand to his cheek. 

“You’ve always held my heart, Astarion.” You say with a soft smile. Your gaze turns stern for a moment as you stroke his pale skin. “-but if you spurn me again even slightly… I should have your ball bag as a coin purse.” 

He can’t help but smirk. 

“A fitting punishment for the crime, darling.” Astarion starts to slide his hands from your knees up your bare thighs. You shaved your legs tonight in the bath and you knew he had noticed by the way his thumbs ran circles on your plump flesh. “You’ll let me show you how much I appreciate you, won’t you?” 

A familiar look plays on his visage as he looks up at you now. Playful and mischievous, he starts to toy with the hem of your night dress. 

“I’ll allow it.” You cheekily smile down at him. 

“Oh darling, I so hoped you’d say that.” Astarion says while nipping at your inner thighs, causing you to spread them unconsciously. “Now let me have a taste of you…” 

Astarion spreads your knees and pulls you further on the bed so your sex was exposed right at the edge, in perfect line with his lips. He leans in and takes a deep inhale with his nose nuzzling the patch of hair at the apex of your cunt, groaning lewdly at your scent. 

“Gods, I missed this.” Astarion says right before he takes a long lick up your pussy and settles at the top, suckling at your clit gently. 

You let out a long moan. 

“Ooohhh and I missed that-“ You cry out again in pleasure. 

You grip your breasts and pinch at your nipples as your back arches off the mattress, legs trembling. Astarion continues slurping and tasting you in just the way he knows you like as he massages your inner thighs with his dexterous hands. 

He slips two fingers into your soaked hole and you gasp. Your shoulders jerk forward off the bed as he curves them up to his your favorite spot. He pulls off your clit for a moment and kisses the spot where your leg met your torso, right over your femoral artery. 

“Heh, still so sensitive, love.” Astarion giggles against your skin as he continued his manual assault on your pussy. You feel his fangs brush against your sensitive flesh and know exactly what you want him to do. 

“Do it.” You breath out, writhing against the bed in pleasure. “Bite me.” 

“You’re sure?” Astarion asks without faltering his fingers hammering into your wet walls. 

“Yes, shit, do it.” You pant out, closer to your peak than ever. “Ah-!”

You yelp as you feel it. The strangely arousing cold bite radiated from your upper thigh. As soon as you feel Astarion begin to drink from you your body was pushed over the edge and hurtled into ecstasy. You could no longer form words, completely lost in pleasure. You babble incoherently as your body jerks and your dripping hole clenches rhythmically around Astarion’s nimble fingers. 

After your orgasm, you feel the fangs leave your skin and the hand being pulled from your sex. A final, wet kiss was placed on your clit before you feel yourself being lifted by the waist and tossed back onto the pillows of your bed. In your post-climax daze, you hadn’t noticed when Astarion shed his own clothes, just that he was now bare on top of you. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. It tastes of your release and also your blood, it only sends you further into a lust-filled haze. 

Astarion pulls back. 

“As delicious as you look in this little number, I’d much rather see you without it.” Astarion jests as he pulls your night dress over your head and tosses it to the floor beside the bed. 

He pushes your knees up to your chest and playfully teases the leaking tip of his cock in and out of your entrance shallowly. 

“Are you ready for me, darling?” He asks. 

You buck your hips in response, hungry to feel him fully inside of you again. 

“Gods, yes.” You whine as you rake your nails down his white chest. 

Astarion responds by pushing himself to the hilt inside your wet whole, groaning deeply when your hips became flush. He pulls out halfway and pushes back in torturously slowly, pressing himself hard into you when he bottoms out against your cervix. He repeats this process a few times, just marveling at the way your cunt hungrily accepts his length. 

“So fucking beautiful like this… messy and wet on my cock…” Astarion teases you. “Such a sweet little thing you are…” He says as he brings his thumb to stroke your clit as his other arm held your legs up against your torso. You let out a vulgar moan. 

“More… Astarion, please…” You plead up at him with wet eyes, desperate for him to speed up and fuck you hard and rough. 

Astarion obliges your request and quickens his pace, letting go of your leg and leaning forward to brace himself with one arm as he thrusts into you faster. 

“You don’t have to beg, my love… I’ll always give you what you want… always… anything…” He pants through exertion. “Gods above, you feel so fucking good…” He exclaims with a moan. 

“I-I’m close again, I-“ You gasp out as you feel the familiar tension build in your lower belly again. 

“I know, darling, I can feel you squeezing me… Just a bit more… I’m there with you…” He grunts and leans down further to press his forehead against yours. He kisses you messily before needing to catch his breath again, faces still pressed together. “I-I love you-“ 

You could barely hear him say it before you’re thrust into another powerful climax. You scream and spasm around your lover, clawing at his back as he punishes your pussy with a few final strokes. Astarion lets out a long groan as he pumps your cunt full of his thick, heavy load. He presses into you as far as he can, chest shaking a bit against yours as he finishes. He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck and whining at the stimulation of your walls pulsing on his over-sensitive cock. 

You run your hands up and down his back as you both come down from your highs. You try not to let your fingers trace along the edges of his scars, making sure not to sour the moment. He eventually relaxes and pulls out of you before settling himself on his side facing you. 

You turn to him and pull him closer. 

“For the record, I love you, too.” You say with a smile. 

“Oh thank the gods, that makes this sleepover a lot less awkward.” He smirks at you. “Now come here and let’s get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” His smirk fades for a moment, but you lean in and give him a gentle kiss. You turn your back to him and he pulls you flush against him with his arm around you. 

“You’re cold.” You comment, a bit of a shiver running along your back. 

“You’re going to have to get used to that, my love.” 

[manmuncher777]

SHADOW

Daemon x Hightower!reader

Description - You’re alicent’s sister, back in kingslanding after years away, fed up of being overshadowed by your sister. But Daemon sees you potential, what you can be… with his help of course

SMUT!! 18+

Porn with loads of plot, dark!Daemon, manipulation, preying, sex, oral f!recieving, mentions of kidnapping. Daemon Is just devious. I did not proof read lol

a/n - huge thanks to @calmingmelody96 for helping inspire me to write this request, its so long but I had so much fun making this charcater!!!

Your dress was tight, too tight. As if the green fabric adorning your waist was trying to kill you. For that, you thought, a small part of you might be thankful. You didn’t feel natural being in Kings Landing again after so long, after all these years. Childhood memories which carried much joy now feeling tainted as you glance to the looming towers of Kings landing. The air was thick with the mingled scents of the city, Salts from black water bay, the tang of smoke from coutless chimneys, and the unmistakable stench of the teeming masses that calle the capital home. For her, it was both familiar and alien, like an echo of a song half forgotten.

It all looked the same, yet so strikingly different. Your dresses green was mirrored by the banners that fluttered proudly on the walls, mixing with the stark red dragon of the targaryen’s.

The sight of it all set your heart twisting - a pang of longing that was tainted with the bitterness you have harboured all these years. This was Alicent’s domain now, Alicent’s world.

The air here was thicker than the skies of Oldtown. The sound of your boots tapping along the cobble stone as you made you way to the red keep, it felt strange that you knew the way all by yourself. Granted you did live here for years, but it still all felt very unnatural to you coming back again

You had left kinglanding not long Alicent’s marriage to the King. Despite being a few years younger than them both, you would join Alicent and Rhanerya as they caused troubled around the castle, listening intently as rhanerya would tell you of what a warrior she would be one day as she rode on dragon back, and giggling as alicent taught her how to become a proper lady of the court. That was the time when your father loved you equally.

But soon, things changed, the girls grew up and so did you. Rhanerya and Alicent got into a fierce fight - Alicent telling you about it later in her frustrations. Rhanerya had laid with Ser Criston Cole, putting her honour on the line. And then Alicent was to marry the king. You were made aware far later than you should have been, you father always dragging Alicent away, secretly talking with her about things he deemed you not worthy of understanding. That was when your relationship truly faultered, Alicent no longer had time to be your sister, only your Queen. Your father had no time for you, Only his other daughter

At first you had tried to stay, trying to find a role in court. You just wanted to be close to Alicent. But the bing you once shared withered, turning you into a shadow of a family obsessed with power and position.

The descion to leave was your own, no one even thought about trying to stop you. Alicent had kept you away from rhanerya, you only other friend. How you wished you could listen to her stories once more. But as you bind with your sister died, so did the one with you friend. when you passed her in the halls, you were once again a shadow, nothing there to acknowledge.

Deep down that childish part of you had hoped for a latter or a visit, anything on your night of leave. None came. And so you buried the hurt, and buried the little girl who had grown up here, convincing yourself you were far better on you own, out of the vile web of lies and twisted politics

Each step up the stairs you took bringing a tight feeling on your chest.

The doors of the red keeps grand hall swung open - and there she was. Alicent. Your sister stood on the far side of the room, bathed in the white light shining from the tall windows. Time had refined her beauty, her soft childish features now sharpened and regal. Clad in a deep green gown, her every movement measured, elegant and deliberate. She truly was the Queen your father had modded her into.

Seeing your sister again only brought back the flood of memories you share, for a moment you were certain you could hear her giggle, echoing in your mind. The faint scent of the lavender perfume you would brain into each others hair.

But those memories were gone almost as quick as they came, replaced by the sharp sting of reality.

Alicent’s Gaze met yours, and for the briefest moment something flickered there - recognition or perhaps even guilt. But then it was gone, replaced by her polished mask of queen.

“Sister,” Alicent begins, stepping towards you with open arms “It gladdens my heart to see you, it had been far too long.”

Your heart twisted at the sound of her voice. It wasnt fair - how could she act as if nothing had happened all these years., You wanted to shout, to demand answers. But all you could do was stand there, frozen.

“Indeed, it has been.. long” You manage a stiff nod.

“Far too long dear sister, I have missed you.” Alicent replied, her smile unwavering

‘dear sister” the words felt hollow, like a polished piece of fruit, rotting inside. Missed you? why had she never written never sent word. You only heard of her children due to word of mouth.

“How have you been?” Alicent asked, her tone so light, so casual, as though they had parted only yesterday. Her hands grasping your unwilling ones.

You pulled her hands back slowly, your jaw tightening. “I’ve been as well as one can be,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “It seems you’ve been… busy.”

If Alicent noticed the edge in your tone, she didn’t show it. “There is so much to catch up on,” she said, linking their arms as though nothing had changed. “Come, walk with me. You must tell me everything.”

As Alicent led you deeper into the keep, talking as though the years of silence had never existed, you felt your bitterness churn like a storm. you wanted to shake Alicent, to force her to acknowledge the hurt she had caused. But instead, you let herself be pulled along, your mind spinning.

It was clear Alicent wanted to erase the past, to pretend the years of abandonment didn’t matter. And maybe, for the sake of the queen’s peace, she expected you to do the same. But as they walked, one thing became certain��you wouldn’t make it so easy for your sister to forget.

The chamber was quieter than you had expected. Outside, the sounds of the bustling castle filtered through the walls—servants hurrying down corridors, the clang of preparations echoing from the kitchens, and the faint hum of voices carrying snippets of conversation. Yet here, within these four walls, it felt as though the air had stilled, wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud.

you sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting in your lap, fingers twisting the edge of your sleeve. Alicent’s words still echoed in your mind—a feast. A grand gathering to celebrate your return, Alicent had said, her voice warm and full of purpose. But beneath the surface, you knew there was more. There was always more with her sister now.

Your gaze flicked to the small mirror on the table, catching your own reflection. You barely recognized the woman staring back at you. The years had changed you—softened some features, hardened others—but it wasn’t just time. It was everything you had lost. Everything you had left behind

Your mind was now flowing with thoughts and worries. How would Rhanerya greet you? Would she be indifferent? Hostile - you knew her an Alicent’s relationship was over now. Or would she wear the same mask as alicent, pretending the past had never happened? you weren’t sure which would hurt more.

And then there were the others—the courtiers, the lords, the ladies, all of whom had watched you fade from the capital without a word, without a care. What would they think, seeing you now? A woman called back by her sister, thrust into the court she had abandoned, a pawn in games she no longer wished to play.

Perhaps tonight would be a reckoning. A chance to remind them all that you were not a woman to be forgotten or dismissed.The thought sent a flicker of fire through your veins, though it was quickly doused by the nerves coiling in your stomach. You stood and approached the window, looking out at the Red Keep bathed in the light of the setting sun. The feast would begin soon, and with it, the weight of a past you could no longer avoid.

With a deep breath, you turned back to the gown on the bed. If they wanted you to play the part tonight, you would. But it would be on her terms.

The dress you adorned that evening was not of your typical house style, your gown was crafted from a get black silk, small peaks of green lace poking through around the hem and bodice. You gave up all symbols of your house, not picking any of the gold jewellery you had. Instead a necklace. A silver one your mother had left you - you expressed your dislike for the family colours, this was something she left you an only you. Beautifully cast, shinning sharply in the light a small emerald in the middle, dangling on your chest. The necklace was tight, framing your neck and features. It fitted the low cut of the gown, you were no longer a child. Your gown sat delicately off your shoulders, the sleeves are embroider with the same green lace, yet a see through material. Silver chains frame the front of the bodice, you felt like a warrior, a knight maybe as they fit your snug and securely. No symbols of your house - other than the mild green adorned you that evening. You were a shadow, the black of your dress embracing that fact.

You step into the feast hall, deliberately late, and the moment the doors creak open, everything comes to a sudden, charged halt. The room falls into a heavy silence, like a breath held too long. You feel it—the weight of every single eye on you, the way their gazes burn into your skin. It isn’t unfamiliar, this attention. But tonight, it’s different. It’s not curiosity this time. It’s judgment, suspicion, and something colder, sharper. You feel the moment you’ve become the center of it all, and you savor it.

Your gown, the deep jet black of midnight, flows around you like a shadow, its silken fabric whispering against the floor as you move. It’s simple yet striking—elegant, with just a hint of rebellion woven into its very design. The silver chains draped across your bodice glint softly in the candlelight, the thin, intricate lines sharp and strong, like armor beneath the dark silk. The lace sleeves, almost ethereal, brush your arms like whispers of something long forgotten. The gown feels heavy in its defiance, the stark contrast to the rest of the court, and as you move through the room, you know it’s all they can see.

You catch his gaze—Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince. He sits there, as still as a shadow, his eyes never leaving you. There’s something in his stare, something unreadable and intense, that lingers a moment longer than it should. You feel it pull at you, as if his gaze could reach deep inside and expose what you refuse to show. You look away quickly, trying to push aside the strange fluttering in your chest. You’ve come here for yourself, for your own reasons, and not to be drawn in by anyone’s attention, not even his.

You remember the small moments, the ones that made your heart race, even though you knew they meant nothing. Daemon wasn’t cruel, not exactly. He would glance at you sometimes, when you were playing with Rhaenyra in the garden or lounging in the courtyard, his eyes flicking over you with a brief, almost imperceptible glance. It was nothing—a momentary flicker of attention that was gone before you could even process it. But it was enough to make your heart race, enough to send a jolt of excitement through you every time he acknowledged you, even if only for a split second.

He would never say anything to you directly, never linger long enough to make you believe there was any real interest. Instead, it was those little gestures—how he would ruffle your hair playfully, as though you were still just a child, but the touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. Or the way he would give you a smirk when you said something, as if amused by your words, as if you had somehow caught his attention, even for just a fleeting second. He never made it obvious, never let on that he cared about you more than anyone else, but that was what made it so intoxicating. It was always just enough to keep you wondering, enough to keep your heart tied up in knots.

When Rhaenyra would run off, lost in her own world, you would find yourself alone with him in the garden, and the silence between you would stretch out, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sometimes, when he caught your eye, his expression would soften ever so slightly, and your breath would catch in your throat. You’d feel the heat in your cheeks, but you’d never look away. Not then. Not when he was looking at you like that, even if it was just for a moment.

He would lean in just a fraction closer as he spoke, his voice low and teasing, making you feel as though the conversation was just between the two of you. The others were never around, not when he let himself be just a little more relaxed, a little less of the untouchable prince. You lived for those brief moments, those stolen seconds when Daemon’s attention was on you, however fleeting it might be.

It was never more than that—a flicker, a smile, a brush of his hand against your arm—but it kept your heart bound to him, kept that crush alive even as the years passed. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t interested in you the way you dreamed. But still, when he glanced your way, when his eyes lingered just a second longer, it made your world spin just a little faster.

You force yourself to keep walking, straight-backed and steady, as you approach your sister. The silence follows you, the gazes still locked onto your every movement. When you reach the high table, you see her—Alicent. She looks so much the same, yet so very different, and when you sit beside her, the space between you feels like an abyss. You can sense the tightness in her posture, the way her fingers clutch the edge of her goblet just a bit too tightly. The anger that simmers beneath her calm exterior isn’t something she’s even trying to hide now. It’s there, thick in the air, the silent wrath that she’s been holding back ever since you returned.

But you don’t flinch. You don’t look at her directly. Instead, you sit down with your back straight, your hands resting calmly on your lap as though nothing in this room could touch you. You can feel her tension, feel her eyes burning into you from the side, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. The game has changed. You are no longer the girl she could command with a glance.

The air between you two thickens, like a storm that’s already begun to break. You feel it, the undeniable shift, as Alicent’s anger seethes just beneath the surface. But you hold your ground, your mind focused on the present moment, on the power you now hold in the space you’ve carved for yourself.

The moment you sit down, your eyes inevitably find him—your father, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. He’s seated just a few places away, his posture as straight and composed as you remember, the weight of duty etched into every line of his face. He looks older, though. Perhaps it’s the years of maneuvering the chessboard that is court life, or perhaps it’s simply time catching up with him. But his eyes... they haven’t changed. They are still sharp, calculating, always looking for the next move.

For a moment, you’re struck by the sheer oddity of it—how he can seem so familiar and yet so distant all at once. You’d spent so many years trying to earn those eyes' approval, only for them to shift away from you and settle on Alicent the moment she married the King. You can still hear his voice echoing in your mind, dismissing you as if you were an afterthought: “You are no longer needed here.” The sting of those words hasn’t faded, even after all this time.

Now, though, his gaze has found you again, drawn there almost magnetically. But it isn’t approval you see. No, it’s something else entirely. His brow furrows ever so slightly, and you notice his eyes catch on the necklace resting just above the neckline of your gown. Your mother’s necklace—silver, not the greens or golds of your house. You haven’t worn it in years, not since the day he told you it didn’t “suit your station.” It had been easier, back then, to simply put it away, to avoid the argument, to not feel the heavy weight of his disapproval every time he looked at you. But tonight, it sits proudly against your skin, a subtle but deliberate act of rebellion. And you know he sees it. You see the flicker of recognition, the way his lips press into a thin line, the tightness in his jaw that betrays his otherwise stoic demeanor. He’s never been one for outbursts, not in public, but you know the signs of his displeasure as well as you know your own reflection.

Alicent notices too. Her eyes flick briefly to your necklace, her expression unreadable. She’s perfected that, hasn’t she? The calm mask that reveals nothing of the thoughts swirling beneath. But you see the slight shift in her posture, the way her hand stills on her goblet for just a moment too long. She recognizes it as well—your mother’s necklace, the one that had been left to you and only you. And though her face remains impassive, you can sense something stirring beneath the surface. Guilt, perhaps? Or simply discomfort? You can’t be sure, and you don’t particularly care.Your father, however, is a different story. You meet his gaze, refusing to look away, refusing to shrink under the weight of his disapproval. There’s a part of you that wonders if he’ll say something, if he’ll try to admonish you here, in front of the entire court. But he doesn’t. Instead, he simply looks at you, his expression unreadable save for the faint flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

And for the first time in years, you feel a strange sense of power. It’s not much, just a small spark, but it’s there—a quiet defiance that burns brighter with each passing second. Let him stew in his disapproval. Let him wonder if you wore the necklace for this very reason, to remind him of what he cast aside. Because in truth, maybe you did.

The feast continues, but for you, it’s like you’re in a different world—your heart beats steadily, and a quiet sense of satisfaction hums through you. You’ve made your choice. Tonight, you are no longer just a pawn. Tonight, you are the one who will shape the story.

And as Daemon’s gaze lingers on you once more, you smile to yourself, knowing that he—like everyone else in this room—will soon see that you are a force to be reckoned with.

The feast hall hums with life, the air thick with the clink of silverware, the rustle of rich fabrics, and the soft murmur of conversation. You sit in silence, the noise of the room all but fading into the background as you watch the scenes unfold before you. Lords and ladies cluster in small groups, their voices low but eager, whispers floating like smoke in the air. They glance at you now and then, no doubt wondering what’s behind the change in your appearance, the subtle defiance in your gown, in your presence. They can’t decide whether you are the same, or something new. You don’t mind. Let them wonder.The soft strains of music begin to fill the hall as the dancers step onto the floor, swirling in delicate steps as the violins and lutes carry the rhythm of the night. The bright, flowing colors of the dancers’ gowns blur in the air as they move, their laughter light and carefree. The court seems to forget its formalities for a brief moment, caught in the frivolity of the dance, the sound of soft feet tapping against the stone floors. You feel like an observer, watching them from your seat, your own heart at a steady, deliberate beat, disconnected from the joy that surrounds you. You don’t dance tonight. Tonight, you are simply here, marking your place.

The King, kind-hearted as he always was, leans toward you with a smile, his voice gentle as he speaks. “It’s good to see you back at the capital,” he says, his tone warm, almost fatherly. He’s never been anything but kind to you, his eyes always carrying that same genuine kindness that made it impossible to feel anything but at ease in his presence. You nod politely, your lips curling into a small smile, but you can’t help but feel the weight of the room shift around you. It’s not uncomfortable, not exactly. But it’s different now. There’s something in the air tonight that you can’t quite shake. You sense the tension in the corners of the hall, in the soft glances exchanged when they think no one is watching.

You see Alicent’s head snap to the king, you could tell she did not approve of his kindness, but she didn’t care say anything. After all, she needed this night to go incredibly well.

Before you can respond fully, Rhaenyra leans toward you, past her father, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says, her words a comfort, a reminder of the past. “I know I haven’t written... I should have. I’m sorry for that. Things have been... complicated.” Her smile is genuine, but her eyes—those familiar, warm eyes—hold something more, something unspoken, a shared understanding of how much has changed since the days when you were just children.

“Thank you rhanerya, its so lovely to see you again” a soft smile graces your features and youre glad that something positive has managed to from from this night. Alicent one more looking frustrated by the kindness of rhanerya’ a words, yet the princess paid her no mind.l

Rhanerya opens her mouth to carry on, when a new voice breaks in, cutting through the conversation like a blade. “A dance, my lady?”

Daemon Targaryen.

He stands at the edge of the table, a playful smirk on his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveys you. He’s always had that look about him—the kind that makes your stomach tighten, the kind that draws you in despite yourself. You feel the room’s attention shift again, as if everyone is waiting for you to respond, waiting to see what you’ll do. You know what they expect, what they want to see: a game, a flirtation, perhaps even a refusal that will keep the air buzzing with gossip for the rest of the night.

But you’re no fool. You know the rules here, and you know Daemon well enough to know that he’s never one to simply walk away. He stands there, waiting, his smirk deepening as he looks from you to the others at the table, all too aware of the eyes on him.

Rhaenyra’s expression falters just for a moment, but only for a brief second—something in her eyes, a flicker of recognition. You can’t tell if it’s jealousy or something else, but it’s gone before you can truly understand it. She shifts, her gaze quickly returning to Daemon, then back to you. You can almost hear her soft, unspoken question: What will you do now?

You know what the court expects. You know the rumors that swirl around Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, the dashing yet dangerous man who can make any woman’s heart race. But tonight, you are not the girl you once were. You are no longer the one who swooned at his glances, who dreamt of him in secret. Tonight, you are your own woman, unafraid to carve your own path, even if that path leads into the whirlwind of trouble Daemon inevitably brings.

But still, when his eyes meet yours, you feel that familiar flutter, that rush of something old and dangerous stirring within you.

“A dance?” you repeat, a slight smile tugging at your lips. You hesitate, just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, before you rise, the tension in the air palpable. The music swells around you as you step forward, your gown trailing behind you like a shadow, as the hall watches you, the game already set in motion.

And for just a moment, you wonder if this night will change everything.

Daemon extends his hand, his grin sharp as a blade, his silver hair catching the glow of the hall’s countless candles. His confidence is infuriating and intoxicating all at once, and you can feel the room’s collective breath catch as you place your hand in his. The warmth of his palm against yours sends a ripple of something electric up your spine. He leads you to the center of the dance floor with the grace of a man who knows exactly what kind of chaos he inspires.

The music shifts as the two of you step into place, the tempo slow and seductive, perfectly suited to the swirl of your gown as he begins to guide you. His movements are precise yet effortless, and you find yourself matching his steps with an ease that surprises you. His smirk deepens as his eyes meet yours. “The Queen of Shadows,” he says, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “How fitting. A shadow is all they’ve ever let you be... but tonight, you’ve turned it into a crown.”

Your breath catches at the words, a mixture of disbelief and... something else. The way he says it, it’s not mockery. It’s a compliment—a rare, genuine acknowledgment of your defiance, your power. For years, you’ve been invisible, cast aside, an afterthought. And yet here you are, the center of attention, with the Rogue Prince himself spinning you around the room as though you are the only one who matters.

The corners of your lips twitch upward, and you meet his gaze head-on. “Careful, Prince Daemon,” you reply, your voice laced with a confidence you haven’t felt in years. “Someone might think you mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” he murmurs, twirling you effortlessly before pulling you back against him. His hand rests at the small of your back, firm yet not restricting. “You’ve always been wasted in the shadows. Tonight, you remind them all what a mistake that was.”

You can feel the heat of countless eyes on you, but none more so than Alicent’s. She sits rigid at the high table, her expression betraying a flicker of worry as she watches the two of you glide across the floor. You know exactly what she’s thinking. This isn’t part of the plan. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She’s fretting over the arrangement she’s carefully orchestrated, the marriage she’s likely secured for you without your consent. But you don’t care. Not tonight.

Otto’s face is a mask of controlled tension, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair just a fraction too tightly. He, too, is calculating, trying to figure out how to intervene without causing a scene. But Daemon doesn’t give them the chance. He spins you again, drawing you further into the crowd of dancers, further away from their reach.

“They’re furious, you know,” Daemon teases, his voice laced with amusement. “Your father, your sister... I’d wager half the room is scandalized.”

Good,” you reply, your voice firm. “Let them be.”

He chuckles at that, a low, rich sound that makes your stomach twist in ways you don’t fully understand. “That’s the spirit. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than they realize.”

The music swells, and Daemon guides you through the intricate steps with a practiced ease, his hand never faltering as he keeps you close. He leans in slightly, his lips near your ear. “But tell me,” he says, his tone quieter now, more intimate, “did you wear this gown for yourself... or for me?”

Your heart stutters for a moment, but you catch yourself before you falter. You tilt your head slightly, your own smirk forming. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His laughter is soft and wicked, and as the dance carries you both across the floor, you realize that, for the first time in years, you feel truly alive. Let them watch. Let them whisper. Tonight, you are no longer a shadow. Tonight, you are something more. And the Rogue Prince, with all his dangerous charm, seems to see it too

You were far to busy to notice you father and sister slipping away from the feast

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

The murmur of the feast hall echoes faintly down the corridor, but here, in the shadowed alcove behind a tapestry, Alicent stands with her father, their voices low. Her fingers nervously trace the edges of her green gown, her expression carefully measured.

“She’s drawing far too much attention,” Alicent murmurs, glancing toward the faint glow of the hall. “Daemon, of all people. If she continues like this, the lords will start talking, and that cannot happen.”

Otto, ever composed, clasps his hands behind his back. “She won’t have the chance. The arrangement has already been made. The match is strong, politically advantageous. Once it’s announced, her theatrics will be irrelevant.”

Alicent nods, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation, perhaps? “Does she truly need to be told tonight? This was meant to bring her back into the fold, not alienate her further.”

“She has no choice,” Otto says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “The King has agreed. It is done.”

Alicent swallows, her throat tight as she lowers her gaze. “She’ll hate me for this,” she whispers.

Otto’s voice softens slightly, but it remains resolute. “Better that she hates us now than jeopardizes the stability of the realm. She’ll come to see the wisdom of it in time.”

The sound of laughter swells from the feast hall, and Alicent straightens, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she forces a calm expression onto her face. “Very well,” she says quietly, before stepping back toward the festivities

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

The feast blurs around you, the laughter and music fading into the background. The weight of Daemon’s gaze pulls at you, as if tethering you to him despite the chaos swirling in the hall. You’ve tried to ignore him, to keep your composure, but when he suddenly appears at your side, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, it’s impossible to pretend he’s not there.

“Are you bored yet, little shadow?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You glance at him, trying to mask your curiosity. “And why would that concern you?”

His smirk is wicked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Because I know how much you hate being their obedient little puppet. And because I have a much better idea for how to spend the evening.”

Your brow furrows, suspicion flickering in your chest. “What are you suggesting?”

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Come with me. Let’s give them something to really talk about.”

Part of you worries the man is toying with you, you were no fool, you knew what he was like. But you cant help be drawn into his trap.

The air between you feels charged, dangerous. You know you shouldn’t. You know whatever he has planned will only make things worse. But the allure of defiance, of stepping out of the role they’ve forced you into, is too tempting to resist.

He was the wolf, guiding you to slaughter. Daemon knew what he wanted, and if toying with you was what he had to do, then so be it.

A dark streak in him loved to watch as you fell into his plan, just as he thought you might.

Before you can overthink it, you find yourself nodding.

The cool night air greets you as Daemon leads you through the darkened corridors of the castle. Your gown whispers against the stone floors, and the sound of the feast grows faint behind you. You should feel nervous, but instead, there’s a strange exhilaration coursing through your veins.

“Where are we going?” you whisper, your voice tinged with both curiosity and unease.

Daemon glances back at you, his smirk still firmly in place. “You’ll see.”

He leads you out onto a narrow balcony overlooking the courtyard below. The city of King’s Landing sprawls beyond, its lights twinkling like a sea of stars. Daemon leans against the railing, his posture relaxed, but his eyes are sharp as they study you.

“Do you know what they see when they look at you?” he asks suddenly, his tone softer now, almost contemplative.

You blink at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“They see a girl too afraid to claim what’s hers,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours. “Too afraid to break the rules they’ve chained her with. You let them shape you, define you, when you could be so much more.”

His words sting because they’re true, and he knows it. But there’s something in his tone, something almost cruel in the way he peels back your defenses. The way he’s sculpting you into what he needs you to be.

“And what do you see?” you ask, your voice quiet, almost a challenge. You desperately wanted to know.

A flicker of something unreadable passes over his face before he steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the silver chain of your mother’s necklace. “I see someone who doesn’t belong in their world. Someone who could burn it all down if she dared.”

The words are intoxicating, and you hate how much they resonate. He steps even closer, his presence overwhelming, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“They think they can control you,” he says, his fingers lightly tracing the necklace. “Prove them wrong. Let them see what happens when you step out of their grasp.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at him, caught between the urge to pull away and the desire to stay. “How?”

Daemon’s smirk returns, sharper now. “By doing what they’d never expect. By doing exactly what they forbid.”

He gestures out toward the city, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. Sneaking out of the castle with him would be reckless, dangerous—everything they would hate. And he knows that.

“You want to unsettle them?” he says, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Then let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes, and you can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you. You know he’s playing on your desire for freedom, on the resentment simmering in your chest. But the temptation to follow him, to throw caution to the wind, is impossible to ignore.

Temptation was all Daemon was, he thrived off it. Relishing in how you gave into it so easily.

As you stare back at him, you realize that Daemon isn’t just dangerous—he’s intoxicatingly so. And tonight, he’s offering you a taste of that danger, knowing full well it’s something you can’t resist

The air outside the castle walls is thick with the scent of the city—smoke, spice, and the faint tang of the sea. It’s noisy here, alive in a way the stifling halls of the Red Keep never are. Daemon moves through the labyrinth of streets as if he owns them, his steps confident, his silver hair catching the glow of lanterns as he glances back at you.

“Try to keep up, little shadow,” he calls over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You quicken your pace, trying not to let the unfamiliar surroundings overwhelm you. The streets are crowded, lined with vendors, performers, and people shouting over one another. It’s unlike anything you’ve experienced, and you feel the weight of every curious glance thrown your way.

“Daemon,” you hiss, catching up to him. “Where are we going?

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer as a group of rowdy men stumble past. The touch is possessive, almost territorial, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re with me. No one will dare lay a hand on you.”

His words are meant to be reassuring, but there’s an edge to them, a reminder of his reputation. You don’t pull away, though, and he notices, his smirk deepening.

The tavern is dimly lit, filled with the smell of ale and sweat. The din of laughter and shouting washes over you as Daemon leads you inside. It’s a far cry from the elegant halls of the castle—crude and chaotic—but Daemon seems entirely at ease.

He tosses a coin to the barkeep without breaking stride, securing two goblets of wine before steering you toward a corner table. The wooden bench creaks as you sit, and you feel the weight of curious eyes on you.

“You’ve done this before,” you say, watching him over the rim of your goblet as you take a cautious sip.

“More times than I can count,” he replies easily, leaning back in his seat. “The city is far more entertaining than that gilded cage we left behind.”

You glance around, the noise and unfamiliarity pressing in on you. “I’m not sure I belong here.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans forward, his voice dropping. “That’s where you’re wrong. You belong wherever you choose to be. The problem is, you’ve spent your entire life letting others decide for you.”

His words sting, but there’s a truth to them that you can’t ignore. You look away, swirling the wine in your goblet, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re too used to being told who you are,” he says, his tone softening just enough to draw you back in. “But tonight, you get to decide. No one here knows your name, your bloodline. You could be anyone.”

You glance at him, searching for any sign of mockery, but his expression is unreadable. “And who are you when you’re not the rogue prince?”

His smirk returns, but there’s something darker beneath it. “Exactly who I choose to be.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

As the night wears on, Daemon’s attention never wavers from you. He teases, flirts, and challenges you at every turn, his words laced with a mix of charm and provocation.

When a musician begins to play, he stands and extends a hand to you. “Dance with me.”

“Here?” you ask, glancing around nervously.

“Why not?” he counters, his smirk daring you to refuse.

You hesitate, but the weight of his gaze and the pull of his confidence draw you to your feet. The floor is uneven, the space too crowded, but Daemon moves as if none of it matters. His hand finds your waist, his other clasping yours, and he guides you into a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

“I’m not used to this,” you admit.

His smirk softens into something almost resembling patience. “That’s the point, little shadow. You’ve spent too long hiding. Let them see you.”

His words sink deep, stirring something inside you. But even as you let him lead, you can’t ignore the way he looks at you—as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, as if every word and gesture is calculated.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask suddenly, searching his face for an answer.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. “Because you deserve to know what it feels like to live.”

But there’s something else in his eyes, something he doesn’t say. And as he spins you across the uneven floor, you realize that with Daemon, the line between freedom and manipulation is razor-thin. He’s offering you a taste of something intoxicating, but at what cost?

The tavern hums with the chaotic noise of its patrons, but in this small corner, everything feels unbearably still. Daemon’s eyes are fixed on yours, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in like a magnet. The warmth of his hand rests lightly on your waist, the touch sending a strange shiver through your body. You can feel your heart racing, uncertainty curling in your stomach.

“Daemon...” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intend.

He leans in closer, the proximity making it impossible to breathe normally. The scent of wine and something darker—more dangerous—lingers around him, but it’s intoxicating, and you can’t seem to pull away.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Daemon whispers, his lips barely grazing your ear. “I won’t hurt you, little shadow. Not unless you want me to.”

Your breath hitches at the weight of his words. You know better than to be so close, to let him get under your skin like this, but something inside you trembles with curiosity, with an aching desire to know what he’s offering.

But there’s still hesitation, a voice in your mind warning you to be careful, to stop before things go too far. You glance around, but the world outside this little bubble of silence feels distant. There’s no escape.

“I... I’m not sure,” you whisper, your heart pounding.

Daemon’s fingers trace along the edge of your jaw, the touch soft but purposeful, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. He smiles, a slow, knowing thing that sends an uneasy thrill through your veins.

“I think you are,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, the words laced with something darker, something you don’t fully understand yet. “You’ve always known, haven’t you? You just needed a little push.”

Before you can respond, he’s pulling you closer, the kiss coming so swiftly you don’t have time to think, to pull away. His lips are firm against yours, and the world fades. You can taste the wine on his breath, the heat of his body pressing into yours, and for a moment, you forget everything else.

But then, a flicker of awareness creeps back into your mind—his hands, too deliberate in their hold, the force behind the kiss, the way his tongue brushes against yours with an almost possessive edge. You want to pull away, but the pull of his touch keeps you rooted, his lips deepening the kiss, coaxing you further into the storm he’s created.

For a moment, you let it happen—because you want it, don’t you? There’s no mistaking the way your pulse quickens, the way your body reacts to him, to the dangerous thrill of what’s happening between you.

But then, a small voice inside you whispers that this isn’t what it seems. Daemon isn’t just taking what he wants; he’s testing you. He’s pushing you, knowing you won’t resist, and that thought should terrify you, but instead, it only deepens the knot in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes watching you with a glimmer of something—triumph, perhaps, or perhaps it’s something more complex.

“You’re so innocent,” Daemon breathes, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. “So naive. But you’ll learn.

The words hang between you, heavy and loaded. And for the first time, you realize that the weight of his care is just as suffocating as his manipulation. He sees you as a puzzle, something to unravel, and in doing so, he’s slowly drawing you into his world—one where rules are bent, and where the only thing that matters is getting what you want.

You blink, your breath shaky, trying to regain your composure, but it’s hard with Daemon so close. You can’t tell if the heat in your chest is desire or something darker.

“What... what do you want from me?”

Daemon chuckles softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Everything, little shadow. Everything.”

The moon is a silver crescent, casting shadows across the streets of King’s Landing as you and Daemon slip through the dark alleys, hearts still racing from the night’s escapade. The thrill of defiance still buzzes in your veins, but something else gnaws at you—a feeling you can’t shake, a creeping sense that this is all too dangerous, that you’ve stepped too far into a world you can’t control.

Daemon walks beside you, his hand briefly brushing against yours. You can’t tell whether it’s for your comfort or his, but you don’t pull away. His grin is still mischievous, his eyes sparkling with the kind of dangerous energy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I do enjoy watching them squirm,” Daemon murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you hear it clearly. “You, little shadow... you do have a knack for it.”

Your chest tightens with a mixture of exhilaration and guilt. This was reckless—this was too much. But just as quickly, your rebellious streak rises again, and you refuse to be the one to regret. Not yet.

However, as you near the castle gates, you realize too late that you’ve already lost the luxury of freedom. The looming figures of your family stand before you, gathered like statues carved from ice. Alicent’s face is pale with fury, her lips tight in an unforgiving line. Otto stands at her side, his expression unreadable but sharp as a blade. The King, normally so composed, stands with furrowed brows and clenched fists.

Rhaenyra’s presence only makes it worse—her eyes flick between you and Daemon, her gaze mixed with concern and a subtle understanding of the storm that’s about to break.

Before you can even take another step, Alicent’s voice slices through the air like a whip.

“There you are. Thought you could slip away unnoticed, did you?” She doesn’t wait for a response, her voice tightening. “You’ve ruined everything. Do you understand that? You’ve ruined your future. Your marriage to Lord Harroway... gone. All because of this.” She points an accusing finger at Daemon, her eyes filled with disdain.

Daemon, ever the provocateur, gives a lazy smile. “Ruined? Hardly. She’s free for once. Shouldn’t that be celebrated, dear sister?” His voice oozes mockery, and you can’t help but feel a spark of anger at his casual disregard for the consequences.

Your heart lurches as Alicent’s words sink in, the anger bubbling up inside you. “I didn’t know! You—you never told me! I didn’t even know about this... this arranged marriage!”

“You don’t have the luxury of ignorance,” Otto’s voice cuts in, cold as ice. “The plans were made. Your future was decided long ago. And now, thanks to your impulsive behavior, we have to start from scratch.”

“I have to start from scratch? What about you?” you snap, your temper flaring. “You’ve decided my life for me without even asking what I want, without ever giving me a choice!”

Alicent steps closer, her voice hissing through gritted teeth. “You have no choice now. You’ve made your bed, and you’ll lie in it. There’s no room for him in it. Not anymore.” She points at Daemon again, and you feel a pang in your chest. The venom in her words cuts deeper than you expected.

Daemon, undeterred, steps forward with that same cocky smile, his eyes glinting with something darker. “What’s the problem, sister? Afraid my presence will overshadow your perfect little plans? Your little puppet of a daughter?” His words are sharp and deliberately cruel.

Daemon’s voice becomes dangerously soft. "You think you can just control her, that you can marry her off like some prize? You should be grateful, Otto, that I didn’t choose to go even further."

Daemon leans in just a bit closer to Otto, eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. "After all, I kissed her. Right under your nose. I took what you thought you could control." He lets the words hang in the air like a heavy, biting taunt, the cruelty of the statement drawing a sharp intake of breath from Otto and the others.

You see Alicent’s hands tighten at her sides, her jaw locking in fury, but it’s Otto who steps forward next, his voice low and dangerous.

“Enough. This ends now. I don’t care if you’re the King’s brother. You’ve risked her honor—my daughter’s honor—and I will not tolerate it.”

Daemon doesn’t back down, though. He looks at you with a mixture of annoyance and something deeper, more calculating. “You know you can’t cage me, Otto. She wanted this. She wanted the freedom.”

For a moment, Daemon leans into otto, right next to his ear muttering something only otto can hear “How about I fuck her next, then you’ll truly be ruined.”

You have no idea what Daemon said, but Otto pushed him away with such hatred in his eyes, you knew it was bad. “You bastard!” otto bellowed

Daemon chuckles darkly. "I’m not done yet. If you try to stop me again, Otto... you’ll regret it. I’ll take her whenever I want—no one, not even you, can stop me. I’ll just steal her away from you. And if you so much as look at me wrong, I’ll make sure your precious plans fall apart for good."

He grins, his expression both teasing and threatening, a dangerous mix of arrogance and cruelty. "The marriage is ruined, Otto. She’ll never be yours to control, not after this. You’ve lost."

Daemon then turns to look at you, eyes cold, calculating. "And don’t think I’m done with you either," he sneers, amusement flickering in his voice. "You were so willing to follow my lead tonight, to sneak away with me. And yet you stand there like you’re innocent. Do you really think I’ll let you just go back to your life?"

His words hit you harder than expected, and you can’t help but feel that the power Daemon wields over you is suffocating. You want to speak, to argue, but his presence is overpowering, his smirk twisting your insides into a knot.

Before you can react, the King steps forward, cutting off Daemon’s threat with a sharp command. "Daemon!" The King’s voice rings through the night like a hammer. "Enough of this insolence!"

Daemon’s gaze flickers briefly toward the King, his smirk returning. "Ah, the old man finally speaks. Are you afraid of losing control of everything, Your Grace?"

The King’s face hardens. "No one is taking her anywhere. You will not leave this castle with her. And if you try anything... there will be consequences."

Daemon’s smirk falters for just a moment, but then, in the blink of an eye, he gives a slight, mocking bow. "Of course, Your Grace. I understand." His voice is laced with sarcasm, and though he’s feigning submission, the air of threat still lingers in his every word.

Daemon turns back to you, his eyes still dark, but with a hint of something more—something that could be regret, or perhaps satisfaction at having rattled the cages. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he steps away, his presence still hanging heavily in the air.

Later, you find yourself in the cold, sterile confines of your chamber, the door slamming shut behind you with an echoing finality. The guards stand at attention outside, their presence a silent reminder that you’re not free to leave.

The anger inside you refuses to fade. How could they do this to you? How could they keep this marriage a secret, control every part of your life like this? Your hands tremble as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. This was your life. Your choice. But now...

“You will marry Lord Harroway.” Otto’s voice, gravelly and severe, breaks through your spiraling thoughts. You look up to find him standing in the doorway, his face set like stone.

“I will not,” you say, your voice low, but steady. “You can’t force me into this. I won’t be some prize to be handed over for a political alliance.”

Otto takes a step closer, his eyes cold with an authority that’s suffocating. “You have no choice in this. You’ve ruined everything. Daemon has ruined everything. You will do what’s expected of you.”

Your chest tightens, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill. “I don’t want him,” you whisper, the truth cutting through your anger like a knife. “I want me. I want my freedom. Why can’t you see that?”

Otto’s expression hardens further, his jaw clenched as if the mere thought of your independence disgusts him. “You don’t get to decide that. It was decided long before you were born. You will marry Lord Harroway. If you want to see Daemon again—if you want any part of your life back—you’ll accept the life we’ve planned for you. There are no more choices.”

The finality in his words hangs in the air like a death sentence. You stand abruptly, your legs shaky beneath you.

“I won’t... I won’t do it.”

“Then you’ll live with the consequences,” Otto replies, his voice colder than ever. He turns to leave, but then pauses. “You’ll stay here until your head is clear. And if I hear of Daemon again, if I even hear his name from your lips...”

The threat is left hanging, and you can’t help but shudder at the coldness in his tone. The door slams behind him, leaving you alone in the silence of your prison.

Anger burns hot in your chest, a tangled mess of fury at your family, at the life they’ve forced upon you, and yet, there's something darker festering within. You’re furious with Daemon too—furious that he pushed you into this, egging them on with his recklessness, his devil-may-care attitude. Did he ever stop to think about the consequences? About how you would bear the weight of his actions? Of course not. He took what he wanted, without a second thought, and now, you’re left to pick up the pieces. And the worst part? You still want him

The days drag on, suffocating you in your solitude. Your chamber has become a prison, and every second spent there is a constant reminder of how tightly your family has bound you—your father, your mother, Alicent, all of them shaping your life without a care for what you want. They’ve planned your marriage, decided your future, and left you with no choice but to accept it.

The anger you feel burns hot inside you, but it’s a quiet rage, simmering beneath the surface. And then, just when you think you might explode, you hear it—the sound of your door creaking open.

Daemon.

He steps inside without hesitation, as if he’s done this a thousand times before, and his eyes sweep over you with an unsettling familiarity. The way he looks at you—it’s like he knows something you don’t.

For a second, your heart skips in your chest, and a twinge of excitement rushes through you. But then, the anger floods back, sharp and bitter. You feel it, and you want to lash out at him. He’s the reason everything has gone to hell. He’s the one who pushed your family to this point, his reckless actions leaving you to clean up the mess.

“just in your night gown my lady? How scandalous” he jokes, a sultry look in his eyes

“Daemon…” you hiss, not bothering to hide the fury in your voice. “What are you doing here? You’ve ruined everything! My life is no longer my own, and now you show up like it’s some kind of joke?”

He smiles, the kind of smile that promises trouble. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice is laced with amusement, as if the destruction of your life is just another game to him. “But let’s not pretend you didn’t enjoy it a little. You did, didn’t you?” His eyes gleam, dark and knowing. “I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to play, and now we both have to face the consequences.”

You flinch at his words. It’s true—you did enjoy the attention, the excitement, the flirtation. But you didn’t sign up for this. You didn’t expect him to abandon you, to let you suffer the consequences of his actions.

You cross your arms, trying to steady your breath. “How dare you speak to me like that the other night?” Your voice comes out harsher than you intended, but it doesn’t matter. You want him to know how deeply he’s hurt you, how careless he was with his words.

Daemon chuckles lowly, a sound that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. He stops just in front of you, his eyes glinting with something darker, something that makes your stomach tighten. “Oh, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did you think I didn’t mean it?”

You recoil slightly, the words stinging. “What’s wrong with you?” you snap, your voice wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

He’s too close now, too overwhelming. His presence fills the room, making it feel smaller, suffocating. Daemon’s fingers brush against your arm as he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “I know you’re angry,” he whispers. “I know you want to hate me. But you can’t. Not really. Not when you know how much I’ve ruined you...”

You swallow, the accusation hanging in the air. His words have a way of finding their mark, cutting deep into the places you thought were safe.

“I’ve ruined your little plans,” he continues, his voice mocking. “But you followed me, didn’t you? You followed me just as easily as you’ve followed everything else. And I know you can’t stop thinking about it. About me.” He pauses for a moment, eyes trailing over your face, reading every flicker of emotion. “You can’t stay angry at me, not when you know you want to be with me.”

His hand slowly reaches for your chin, tilting your face up toward him, forcing you to look him in the eye. His grip is tight, possessive, and for all your anger, you don’t push him away.

Daemon’s smirk widens, cruel and knowing. “You’ve always wanted to be a part of my world. Don’t pretend you didn’t. You couldn’t resist me then, and you won’t resist me now.”

His words are like a gentle caress to the skin, but they’re coated with venom, sharp and cruel beneath the surface. The accusation burns, and you want to deny it, want to push him away with everything in you. But something in the pit of your stomach churns—doubt, confusion, and a pull that you can’t seem to escape.

Daemon leans closer, his lips hovering just above your ear, his breath tickling your skin. “I can see it in your eyes. You hate that I’ve made you feel this way. But you know, deep down, that you’ll forgive me. Because, whether you like it or not, you belong to me now.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and Daemon watches you carefully, his gaze a mix of amusement and satisfaction, as if he knows exactly how deeply his words are cutting into you. He’s playing you like a stringed instrument, and you’re helpless to resist.

His lips brush against your ear, whispering softly, “You’ll forgive me, because you have no choice. You’ll forgive me because, no matter how much you deny it, you want me. And you know, darling, that’s the hardest truth you’ll ever have to face.”

You close your eyes, anger mixing with confusion, as Daemon straightens up, his fingers lingering on your chin a moment longer before he releases you. He steps back, seemingly content with himself, watching you, waiting for you to break, to give in.

“And don’t pretend you’re above it,” he adds, his voice low and cutting. “You’re not. You’ll forgive me. You always do.”

Daemon steps closer, the air between you thick with something charged. His presence is overpowering, and every part of you wants to pull away. But you can’t. You’re drawn to him in ways you don’t want to admit.

His voice softens, and he places a hand on your arm, his touch far too intimate, far too familiar. “Don’t be angry with me,” he murmurs, leaning in just a little closer. “I know you’re upset. But we both know you’re not some delicate flower. You’ll weather this storm better than anyone else.”

You can’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. The way he speaks, like he understands you, like he’s the only one who truly gets you—it makes your resolve start to crack. Your anger still lingers, but it’s harder to hold onto with him standing there, looking at you like he’s the only one who sees the real you.

“I’m not some pawn in your game,” you snap, even though part of you wonders if you already are. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you to come here and tell me everything will be fine, Daemon. Because it won’t be.”

He smiles again, but this time, there’s no humor in it. It’s predatory, like he’s toying with you, pushing you into a corner you didn’t even know existed. “You’re angry,” he says, his voice low, almost a purr. “I understand that. But don’t mistake my actions for cruelty. I did this because I knew you were strong enough to handle it. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re... different.”

You swallow hard, the words stirring something inside you. He’s right, in a way. You are different. You’ve always felt out of place, like the world around you was something you had to adapt to instead of shaping it for yourself. Daemon makes it sound so... tempting, as if he’s offering you a chance to be something more than just the dutiful daughter.

But then he steps closer, and the moment your skin touches his, something shifts. His presence is overwhelming, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s dangerous. You know this. He’s the reason your life is in chaos. But the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel seen, it draws you in like a moth to the flame.

“You’re stronger than you know,” he says softly, his fingers tracing the line of your arm. “But you don’t have to face this alone. Not if you don’t want to.”

His words are so smooth, so convincing, and in that moment, you want to believe him. You want to believe that he’s telling the truth, that maybe, just maybe, he’s the one who will help you find a way out of this mess

“You can’t fix this, Daemon,” you say, though your voice cracks, betraying the doubt in your chest. “You’ve already made everything worse.”

“I’m not here to fix it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if the words are meant for only the two of you. “I’m here to offer you an escape. An escape from them. An escape from the life they’ve planned for you.”

The weight of his words hits you hard. You’ve been trapped for so long, your fate sealed by others, and the thought of escaping it, of finally having control over your life, is a temptation you can’t ignore.

Daemon watches you closely, reading the turmoil in your eyes. “You don’t have to be their puppet anymore,” he says softly, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush your skin. “Come with me. Leave this place behind. I’ll make sure you’re free.”

Your heart races. Every part of you wants to run, to escape this suffocating existence. But you hesitate, because you know that following him means crossing a line you can never uncross. Yet, his gaze pulls you in, and for just a moment, the desire to be free, to be anything but the person they’ve molded you into, is stronger than anything else.

You look up at him, your breath shallow, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “What do I do now?”

Daemon’s smile is slow, almost too pleased with himself. “Come with me,” he says, his voice thick with promise. “I’ll show you.”

Before you can say another word, his hand is on yours again, and he pulls you toward the door. Every step you take feels like a leap into the unknown, but you follow him anyway, trusting him more than you should, believing in the words he’s whispered into your ear

Daemon’s chambers are dimly lit, the flickering flame of the candles casting shadows that stretch across the stone walls like ghosts. The air is thick with the quiet of the night, but the tension is palpable. You stand near the door, heart racing in your chest as your nightgown clings too tightly to your skin, an innocent, exposed fabric that makes you feel both vulnerable and strange in Daemon’s presence. It’s just the two of you in this room now, and every breath feels heavy, weighted with the electricity that hums between you.

Daemon leans casually against the stone wall, one arm draped lazily over his waist, his gaze fixated on you with a curiosity that’s both unsettling and magnetic. His eyes—those stormy, knowing eyes—never leave you, studying you like a puzzle he can’t quite figure out, yet is intent on solving.

“You’ve made quite a habit of defying your family,” he says, his voice low and smooth, with that mischievous edge you’ve come to know all too well. “It’s... interesting. They thought they could control you, tie you down with a simple marriage, a pretty little contract. But here you are, free as ever. It suits you.”

You shift uncomfortably, his gaze like a weight pressing against you. The room suddenly feels too small.

“I’m not free,” you murmur, trying to push back against the pull of his words. “I’m just... running from one cage into another.”

Daemon’s lips curl into a smile, but it’s not comforting. It’s dangerous, calculated. He pushes himself off the wall slowly, almost lazily, as if he’s savoring the moment, the game. He steps closer, and the space between you grows smaller, until he’s only a few feet away.

“No,” he says, his voice dropping, lowering the temperature of the room even further. “You’re not running. You’re... escaping. There’s a difference.” His eyes flash as he takes another step, and you can’t help but notice how his movements are predatory, yet effortless. He makes it look so natural. “You’ve never really had a choice, have you? Always being told what to do, who to marry, where to go. You’re always playing by someone else’s rules.”

Your throat tightens as his words sink in, and the breath you didn’t realize you were holding escapes shakily. You swallow, trying to ground yourself. But then he’s there—right in front of you—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

Daemon’s hand brushes against yours, just barely, like a spark flickering in the dark. It’s light, teasing, but it sends a jolt through you. His touch is a reminder that he’s not just another man in the room. He’s Daemon Targaryen, and you’ve never been able to ignore the effect he has on you.

“You know,” he says softly, his voice like a velvet whisper against your ear, “they’re never going to give you the freedom you crave. They’ll always keep you in your place, a pawn for their schemes.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat, but you refuse to let him see the way his words are hitting you. You look away, trying to gain some semblance of control, but Daemon won’t let you. He steps closer again, his body brushing against yours just enough to make your pulse quicken. His fingers graze your wrist—just a light, fleeting touch—but it burns like fire.

His lips twitch upwards at the reaction he knows he’s getting from you. “You’re so... tense,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, thick with promise. “You can let go, you know. No one is here to judge you. Not tonight.”

The words dance around your head, teasing, tempting. You try to step back, but Daemon is there again, his hand on your arm, pulling you gently but insistently toward him.

His touch is light, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of your nightgown, but it feels like more. He’s too close now, his breath mingling with yours, and the space between your bodies has evaporated entirely. The tension thickens, coiling tighter with every second that passes.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he says, his voice hushed, but with an edge of challenge. His fingers trace the edge of your collarbone, a soft caress that has your heart racing. “I’m not like the others. I won’t trap you. I’ll give you what you want... freedom.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words fail you. You feel like you’re drowning, suffocated by his presence and the way he’s watching you. You can’t escape from the intensity of it, the way he’s pulling you in without saying a word, drawing you closer, making you forget the consequences.

Daemon’s gaze darkens, and for the first time, you see something sharper, more dangerous. He leans in, so close now you can feel his breath on your skin. “You’re not a little girl anymore,” he says, his voice soft but full of intent. “You don’t need to play by anyone’s rules. Not mine, not your father’s... no one’s.”

His hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you close your eyes, caught in the heady warmth of the moment, the world narrowing down to just him, just the two of you.

“You can take control. You can have power, be free, just by making one choice.” His eyes flicker to your lips, and you feel the magnetic pull again, impossibly strong. “Let me take what no one else can have. Let me take your honour.”

The words hang in the air between you like a tangible thing. A weight that presses on your chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. You should step away. You should say no, because you know this would ruin everything. You know the consequences. But as Daemon watches you, waiting for your answer, a part of you—something deep, something far more primal than logic—feels the lure of his offer.

He’s not offering you love, not truly. He’s offering you freedom. A chance to slip from the chains that have held you your whole life.

“Daemon,” you whisper, your voice trembling, though you’re not sure whether it’s from fear or desire.

“Think about it,” he breathes, his lips brushing the edge of your ear. “I can make you untouchable. No one can force you into that marriage. You’ll be free, and no one will stand in our way.”

The temptation lingers, heavy and oppressive. You know it’s dangerous. You know you should walk away. But the thought of being free... of being his... tugs at something deep inside you.

Daemon’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as you hesitate, and you wonder—just for a moment—if you’ve already fallen too far to turn back.

The room is suffocating with heat, the flickering candlelight casting shadows that seem to grow and stretch as Daemon’s gaze never leaves you. The space between you feels charged, like the air itself is thick with something unsaid, something dangerous.

Daemon’s breath is steady, controlled, but you can see the flicker of something dark in his eyes—something that mirrors your own longing. His body is impossibly close, towering over you in a way that makes you feel small, vulnerable, but also alive, in a way you’ve never felt before.

You want him. That much is clear. His presence, his touch, everything about him makes your heart race, your pulse quicken, and your breath catch in your throat. But with that desire comes something darker, something you can’t quite put into words—fear, maybe. Or uncertainty. The price of giving in to this feels high, and you know it.

Daemon, however, knows this too. And that only makes him more determined, more insistent. He’s watching you intently, as if waiting for the very moment when he’ll break down the walls you’ve spent your life building. His hand is still lightly resting against your cheek, and his thumb brushes over your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He can sense the hesitation, the inner battle. You can see the smile tugging at his lips, but it’s not kind. It’s triumphant, as if he knows something you don’t. That, in this moment, you are his.

“You know what you want,” he says, his voice low, smooth, almost like velvet, but it carries an edge—a hunger you can almost taste. “You’ve been running, hiding behind your family’s expectations, but the truth is... you’re not like them. You’ve always been different. You want to be free, and I can give you that.”

His words hang in the air, thick and heavy, like a spell being woven around you. You know the consequences. You’ve heard them, felt them. And yet...

Daemon leans in just a fraction more, his lips brushing against your ear, and you can hear the quiet, dangerous satisfaction in his voice when he speaks again.

“You want to feel something different, don’t you? Something real, something you can’t get from your family or their precious plans. Let me show you what it feels like to have control, to finally feel alive.”

The moment stretches out, and all you can hear is the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. Your thoughts are swirling, spinning, but at the center of it all is him. Daemon Targaryen. The man who holds your future in his hands, a future that could break you, or free you.

You’ve never been so conflicted in your life, yet his words have found a way into your soul, pressing on every vulnerable part of you. You can feel the walls you’ve built around yourself beginning to crumble, and there’s a part of you—a deep, secret part—that wants to surrender to him, to let him take you and leave you with nothing but the promise of freedom.

And yet, you can’t quite breathe without wondering if you’re making a mistake. If you’re giving up something too precious. But when Daemon’s lips move closer to yours again, his breath hot against your skin, you know that it’s too late to turn back. The decision has already been made. The temptation is too strong.

You nod, just barely, but it’s enough.

Daemon doesn’t need more words. He sees the shift in you, the acceptance in your eyes, and a glimmer of satisfaction flickers across his face. It’s not just triumph. It’s something else—something darker. He’s won, but the game is far from over.

He moves, quick and decisive, pulling you into him as his lips crash against yours. The kiss is everything you’ve been afraid of and everything you’ve wanted, all at once. His hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might slip away. And for the first time, you stop thinking, stop questioning, and simply feel.

This is it. This is the point of no return.

This is unlike any other, this kiss was so different to the one that you shared in the tavern, it was hungrier. Filled with something more than just innocence and tension. It was full of passion, a feeling that had you mind going foggy despite Daemon having hardly touched you.

The feeling of his possesive grip on your neck had you whimpering lightly into the kiss, a sound that he moaned at. Relishing in your innocence, your taste, the smell of your flesh, the way you looked so angelic in you gown, in the candle light of his room.

He had backed you into a wall now, leaving no room for your escape. His lips dominating yours with each kiss.

“Are you sure of this my lady, once I start, I don’t think I can stop” he pulls away to mutter breathily in your ear, the both of you panting lightly. All you can do is will yourself to nod your head, a small smirk gracing his features at your wordlessness.

You weren’t sure what he was going to do, but the burning pit in your stomach told you to accept it greedily. You watched as the silver haired prince lowered himself between you legs. Lifting one onto his shoulder as his head dissapred beneath your night gown. You stood in silence for a moment as you back leant against the cold wall, until a sharp gasp but through the silent air.

You weren’t expecting anything like this, for him to kiss you down there. You had never even heard of such a thing. You didn’t have it in you to comparing however, moans ripping from your throat as Daemon slopping kissed your pussy, tongue gliding through your slick folds.

He sucked and licked to his hearts content, he could feel his pants tightening at your taste, it drove him wild, so sweet and innocent, he was so lucky to be the first to touch you he thought. He sucked gently on your clit, listening to the shrill moans you let out as he played with your virgin cunt. Your hips bucking involuntarily against his face as he licked fat stripes along you.

You didnt know what to do with yourself, eyes screwing shut with pleasure as you took whatever he gave you, whatever this was it felt amazing, unlike anything before

A feeling in your belly rose, a band tightening, a coil winding. You felt like you were going to snap, your breathing becoming more and more erratic as Daemon did nothing to slow his action. You were positively dripping, your slick smeared over his face.

“Daemon, oh gods- Daemon it feels-“ You didnt get a chance to finish that sentence before that band inside you snapped, your nerves on fire as Daemon didnt dare slow is assault

“That’s it little shadows, scream for me.:” he murmured into your cunt as it gushed on his face. You were screaming in pleasure as this point, trying to pull his off of you when it got too much, you had never been so sensitive before.

When he was finished he rose from his knees, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve, something that you shouldnt have enjoyed watching - an action so filthy - but you couldn’t help it.

Your head all dizzy and mushy from the after effects of your orgasm still flowing over you. You scared at each other for a moment, you hooded eyes glancing at the man with nothing but want written all over his features.

Not breaking eye contact for a moment, he rid himself of his shirt. Slowly stepping over to you, like you were some scared animal, hands reaching for your dress, slowly raising the garment over your head.

There you stood, naked in front of the man who’s eyes were running over you like you were fresh cut meat and he was starving.

Your arms instinctively rose to cover your bare chest, your nipple perk as the night air brushed against them, Daemon stops you, ringing your hand down to your sides so he can look at you, mutterly sweetly in you ear about how you mustn’t fear him and there’s no need to hide from him.

His hands meet your hips as he guides you to his bed, laying you down on it. He rids himself of his trousers as well and you cant help but watch, an admirable length stands tall between his thighs and you gulp. You knew that was meant to go inside you, but how would it fit.

He could read the nervousness on your face as he pressed his body on top of yours

“whats wrong my lady?” he asks in betweeen his kisses on your neck and chest, biting and licking the skin, making it harder for you to talk

“..Serving girls my lord, they mentioned how… bedding was painful, not enjoyable.” you can hardly make eyecontact with the man as his kisses stop as he looks at you.

“Trust me my lady, It might hurt at first, but what we are about to do will be very, very enjoyable I can assure you.” he pulls your chin to force you to look at him, you can feel him prodding at your wet entrance as you cant help but squirm at the feeling, all you know is you trust the prince, and you need more of whatever this is

Slowly, watching your face he pushes inside, inch by inch. One of his hands holding yours.

The stretch burns, and when he finally sheaths himself fully inside of you, You gasp out from the pain. It certainly did hurt, but you wanted to believe what Daemon said, that it was going to get better. you whine at the pain.

Daemons breathing heavily now as he is still inside you, what he wouldnt do to take your virgin cunt like a street whore, but he’s trying to be considerate, pausing and allowing you to adjust to his size first.

After a short while he finally began to move, building slow thrusts in and out of your weeping cunt, your wetness was dripping down onto the bedsheets beneath you. Daemon slipping into you with ease. Gods your cunt was so tight it was practically choking him, you virgin pussy sucking him back in with every thrust.

NOw you understood what Daemon meant, now he was moving inside you, it felt increadibly.

His mouth sucking lazily on your nipples as moans reverberated through his chest. His hand still gripping yours, dwarfing your smaller one as he kept it pinned to the bed.

Your chest heaving with every gasp, this feeling was so foreign to you, yet it had your legs turning to jelly, your mind fogging as your eyes glossing over.

“My prince- please” In truth you didnt know what you were begging him for, but you knew that you needed more.

He chuckles to himself, watching you fucked out state “oh whats this, You want more my lady?” His thrusts now picking up in both speed and strength, kicking the air out of your lungs as moan after incoherent moan left you.

“What would dear father think if he saw you like this, hm?” he teased, relishing in the blush along your face, and the innocent pout you gave him at his suggestion. He wouldnt mind if otto walked in right now and saw how he was defiling his daughter.

Daemon was fucking you with such hunger, yout tits bounced with each thrust, entrancing him to the supple skin. The vulgar squelching noises of you cunt could be hurt, you were truly embarrassed, but in that moment you didnt have the capacity to be bothered about it.

“Such a good lady, taking me so well” he muttered, out of breath as his silver hair now dangled handsomely in front of his face. He couldnt help but look down at where he was entering you, moaning at the sight or his cock pushing into your virgin walls.

“You like this don’t you? You like that im ruining you for any other stupid lord” You squealed at his suggestion as he punctuated it with a particularly harsh thrust. His fat tip was bu;;yung that gummy spot inside of you, the one that left you quivering and shivering.

“Yes!- yes my prince, I love it” Daemon chuckled darkly, he knew he would break you. Getting you to be completely his, completely ruined and improper. He had destroyed you an turned you into something else, something darker.

That band was building inside you once more, that feeling that you loved so much. ONly it was stronger now, as if the previous time had only made this one stronger. Daemon could tell you were close by how tightly you were gripping him, and the cute way your eyes screwed shut.

He was close also, your cunt milking him for everything hes got. “Come on my lady, fall apart for you prince. Fall apart on my cock.”

The words he was saying to you were so vulgar and crude, but you couldn’t help that they helped push you were that edge. You released over your prince with a cry of his name. It was the only thing you could think to do, sing his praises.

You were dripping around his cock, your release all over his thighs and abdomen. His hand squeezed yours tighter as he fucked his way to his orgasm.

Hips stuttering as he came, shooting his seed deep inside of you. A moan leaving his chest as he finally stilled, collapsing into of you whilst he was still inside. Giving you a final sloppy kiss of the night. In that moment you couldnt have been happier, falling asleep in freedom, in your princes arms

The first slivers of sunlight spill into the chamber, casting a golden glow over the bedchamber. You stir, caught between the haze of sleep and the memory of what you’ve done—what he has done to you, with you. It was a night unlike any other, one where you let your defenses crumble entirely, and Daemon made sure there was no going back.

He stirs beside you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as if he can read your thoughts. “Awake already, my Lady? Don’t tell me you’re regretting it,” he teases, his voice low and full of self-satisfaction.

You rise, unable to match his ease, your nerves already fraying. “You know what day it is,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.

Daemon stretches leisurely, as if the weight of the world isn’t about to come crashing down. “Your wedding day,” he replies, unbothered. “How fitting. A celebration, just not the one your father planned.” His smirk is infuriating and maddeningly attractive.

He insists you dress and follow him, his presence a steadying force even as your stomach twists. By the time you reach the hall where Otto, Alicent, and the King await, the adrenaline has numbed your nerves, leaving only a simmering defiance in its wake.

The three of them are gathered in quiet discussion, Otto pacing, Alicent biting her nails, the King seated with furrowed brows. All eyes snap to you and Daemon as you enter, arm in arm, his hand resting on yours with a casual possessiveness that sets the air ablaze.

“Good morning,” Daemon announces with his usual audacity, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “We have some rather exciting news to share.”

Otto’s expression darkens instantly, his calculating gaze narrowing on Daemon’s smirk. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, though his voice trembles slightly.

Daemon’s smirk deepens, and he gives your hand a squeeze, silently daring you to speak. You open your mouth, but he beats you to it.

“Lady Hightower will not be marrying that dull lord you’ve chosen for her,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery. “Not after last night.” He glances at you, his expression full of dark amusement, and then back to Otto. “Consider her... unavailable.”

Alicent gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as her eyes dart between you and Daemon, searching for denial that doesn’t come. The King slams his cane on the ground, his face a thundercloud of barely contained rage. “Daemon, explain yourself,” he barks.

Daemon steps forward slightly, still keeping you close. “She’s mine now, brother. Fully and irreversibly,” he says, his voice calm but layered with unyielding dominance. “So unless you wish to see this house embroiled in scandal beyond repair, I suggest you stop meddling in her affairs. Or mine.”

Otto’s face flushes with anger, his composure crumbling. “You’ve disgraced her! Disgraced this family!”

Daemon laughs darkly, as though he’s savoring every second of Otto’s fury. “Disgraced? I think I’ve done the opposite. She’s more than a pawn now, wouldn’t you agree?” His eyes flicker to you, softer but no less intense. “She made her choice.”

You glance at Alicent, who stares at you in shock and something akin to betrayal, and then at your father, whose fury burns hotter than the sun. For the first time, you meet their gazes without fear. Daemon is a menace, yes, but with him by your side, you feel untouchable.

“Daemon is right,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “I will not marry a man I don’t know, don’t want. You can’t make me.”

Otto’s mouth opens, but no words come out. The King lets out a sigh, his fury abating into tired frustration. “Daemon,” he says, “you have gone too far.”

“Perhaps,” Daemon replies with a shrug, “but far is the only place I’ve ever been comfortable.”

The tension in the room is suffocating, but you stand your ground, knowing there’s no turning back now. Daemon’s grip on your hand tightens, his smirk a silent promise that, come what may, he’s not letting you go

[queef-of-fortune]

Marionette (Doflamingo X Reader)

Chapter Forty-five:

Plot: When the Straw Hat crew got separated, Kuma sent her to the kingdom of Dressrosa. Unfortunately for her, she caught the eye of none other than the king himself. Donquixote Doflamingo.

The room was dimly lit; the sound of music and chatter vibrated the walls that surrounded the two men. Doflamingo sat at his desk, fingers together as he watched Crocodile fix himself a drink uninvited. His own glass sweating all over his mahogany desk. Drink in hand, Crocodile swaggered over to the chair adjacent the desk, plopping himself down as if he were at home.

He sipped his whiskey casually, the ice clinking as he did so. He seemed relaxed, calm. The exact opposite of the man across from him. Doflamingo began to tap his fingers impatiently on the wood, his jaw clenched and forehead veins looking like they were ready to combust.

“What’s your business here, Croc? Care to indulge me or are you going to make me guess?” Doflamingo snarled.

Crocodile chuckled under his breath, bringing the glass up to his lips once more, finishing his drink in a gulp.

“I need to lie low for a couple of days.” He was straight forward with his request.

Doflamingo scoffed, looking utterly disrespected. His eye twitched from beneath his shades as he dug his fingernails into the desk.

“You expect me to help you after you rejected my offer months ago? In front of everyone at that. You humiliated me and now you come waltzing into my party and flirt with my woman and expect my help?” He hissed, now standing, both hands planted firmly on the wood.

There was a moment of silence between them for a moment yet Crocodile seemed unbothered by it.

“Yes.” He said simply.

Doflamingo inhaled deeply before sitting himself back down, almost as if he were trying to ground himself.

“Fine.” He reluctantly agreed. “You have two nights here, including this one.”

“Three.” Crocodile debated.

Doflamingo slammed his fist on the tabletop, “Fine, three. But don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.” He pointed a mean finger in his direction, scowling so hard it almost hurt.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Crocodile lifted his glass with a smirk in return.

Doflamingo huffed, adjusting his coat as he sat back down in his chair, still feeling rather agitated. The two men stared each other down, waiting for the other to speak first. Finally—

“And another thing,” Doflamingo spoke up, standing from his chair again, quicker this time as he leaned over the desk, pointing his long, shaky finger in Crocodile’s direction. “I don’t want to see you lay one finger on her.”

“Who?” Crocodile feigned innocence with a smirk.

Crocodile stood from his chair, sauntering over to the bar cart again for a refill of Doflamingo's most expensive liquor.

Doflamingo stomped behind, following him over with a frown, “You know who, the Strawhat girl!”

Doflamingo towered over Crocodile yet he poured his drink with no hint of anxiety.

“Oh, her.” He said casually, as if Doflamingo wasn’t about to explode. “Remind me again, why do you have her?”

Doflamingo growled. “That is none of your concern. But what is your concern is keeping your hands— or more like your hook to yourself. That is unless you want two of them.” He threatened, now only inches from his face.

Crocodile only chuckled lowly in return before making his way back to his seat. Doflamingo stood by the bar cart in disbelief, absolutely seething. He watched as the man took a cigar from his pocket and held it between his teeth, lighting it with the only hand he had.

“She’s cute, how’d you get her?” Crocodile asked, crossing one leg over the other lazily.

Doflamingo stepped towards his seat, “She was a gift. Sent to me.” His anger subsided and was replaced with a viscous grin.

“How so?” Crocodile raised a brow at his statement.

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told you, now would it?” Doflamingo held a finger up to his lips, looking devious as ever.

Crocodile chuckled, shaking his head lightly as he removed the cigar from his mouth, blowing smoke in Doflamingo’s direction.

Doflamingo plopped down in his chair again, looking arrogant as ever, all sprawled out and reclined.

“So what really brings you here? Who are you hiding from?” Doflamingo inquired, picking up his own drink and taking a big gulp.

Crocodile sighed, swirling his drink before taking a sip of his own. One leg crossed over the other.

“Just the government, they’ve been hot on my trail since Impel Down.” He explained.

“That's all?” Doflamingo said, almost as if he didn’t believe him.

“That’s all.” Crocodile repeated, confirming his story.

“Well if that’s all,” Doflamingo paused, giving him a moment to interject, “then I suppose we get back to the party. I’m sure my guests are missing me already. I’ll have someone show you your room.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) had taken Doflamingo’s absence as an excuse to disperse from the party. She took the opportunity to head off to the library. After his last party she knew better than to stray too far from the house. She needed to be where he could find her.

But first— she needed the key. The key to the secret room in his library. She wanted to continue reading her book. And maybe look for more clues. She grabbed herself a drink and a complimentary party favor— a joint. Then she slipped out the doors of the ballroom, careful to not alert any of the Donquioxte family.

In her inebriated state, she stumbled out the door, her heels clacking against the stone floor as she made her way back upstairs. (Y/N) pushed her way into the bedroom, only to be met by Karma who trilled at her feet lovingly. She of course picked her up and gave her a quick cuddle before grabbing the key from the nightstand and departing. On her way down to the library she was almost caught. Doflamingo and Crocodile's voices could be heard from around the corner, distant but close enough.

She panicked and slipped inside one of the linen closets that lined the corridor. It’s not like she’d be in any sort of trouble but she really didn’t want to have to explain herself and then be forced back into the party. She felt the floor shake beneath her feet as the two monstrous men passed by. The only thing that was heard as they passed was Doflamingo’s hearty laughter, smug and loud. (Y/N) held her breath, ear pressed to the door until they passed.

Once it sounded safe, she emerged from the closest, looking both ways before tiptoeing out, trying to make sure her heels didn’t make too much noise. She crept her way to the library, joint firmly between her teeth, unlit with a drink in one hand and the key in the other. Once at the library, she shimmied inside, trying to be quick and quiet. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind her.

She pressed her back to the door, listening to see if anyone was following. After she made sure the coast was clear, she made a beeline for the tapestry that hid the old door. (Y/N) clicked the key in the lock and let the door creak open. She knew what she came for and it was the Devil Fruit encyclopedia. She also knew that she didn’t have time to snoop. He’d find it suspicious if he found her in this room unsupervised and while there was a party going on.

(Y/N) quickly scoured the shelves, checking where she left the book. Its red spine and golden trim stuck out amongst the dust relics. Carefully, she pulled it from the shelf, dusting it off and taking her leave. Quietly, she locked the door behind her, making sure the tapestry covered the door in its entirety.

She plopped down in her usual chair, kicking off her heels and curling up with her book. As she went to open the book, something fell out, fluttering to the floor. With her brows furrowed, she bent down and picked up the parchment that fell from the book's pages. It was a neatly folded piece of paper. Before she even opened it up, she knew. She unfolded the paper and sighed— Of course it was a letter from Doflamingo.

A mi pajarito,

I know my last letter failed to make you swoon, but I promise I’m a better man than that. And I plan on proving it to you. First and foremost you deserve a proper apology, an apology from a man who never says he’s sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. I now know that I wasn’t deserving of you. Not yet at least. But I’ve realized my mistakes and I know why you couldn’t bring yourself to love me before. I was shallow and crass. That was our secret to share and I told everyone.

I hope you can forgive me for what I’ve done. You are the moon to my stars and I am nothing but a shadow in your light. You deserve the world and I’m the only man who can give it to you. I’ll do anything you ask, no matter the cost. Your cup runneth over when you’re with me.

I want to be the one you run to when you’re fearful. I want to be the man you cling to in public. I ran my mouth because I was proud to have laid with a woman like you. But a woman like you isn’t a prize or a trophy. You’re a one of a kind treasure and I fear I’ve lost you.

Your beauty is unmatched and I am a fool to have been so vulgar about it. I think of you day and night, morning and noon, evening and dawn. You’re all I want. You’re all I need. Please forgive me hermosa criatura.

I’m yours to destroy or love. I’ll leave that decision up to you.

Your forever, Doflamingo

(Y/N) gripped the letter in her hands tightly, trying to ignore the pang in her chest. Why did she feel so…. Guilty...? He was the one who ran his mouth about their moment of passion. He was the one who betrayed her trust. And yet here she was feeling guilty for giving him the cold shoulder. She folded the letter up and placed it back inside the book, slamming it shut.

Back at the party, Doflamingo had just returned with Crocodile trailing not too far behind. He scanned the room, looking for his lover. His past comment slipping his mind at the moment. His smug expression began to falter as she was nowhere to be found.

‘No matter’ he thought, ‘She’s around here somewhere.’

She was much smaller than a majority of the crowd here, she probably just somewhere in the crowd. Yet after searching the dance floor, nothing. His heart began to race. Next he looked by the bar. Again nothing. Now his breath quickened. The buffet. Nothing. His hands were starting to tremble.

He took a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a second before exhaling through his mouth, trying to calm his nerves. He tried to keep in mind how she ran away at the last party he hosted. In fact she didn’t really run away, she was just hiding from him. He tried to soothe himself with those thoughts.

‘She’s just hiding.’

‘She just needed some space.’

‘She hates crowds,’

Those thoughts helped calm him somewhat but not fully. He needed her by his side. Now. It was far too cold for her to be outside. She wouldn’t go there. He’d check the library first and if she wasn’t there, then he’d check the pond.

“Trebol,” Doflamingo called out to his right hand man. “I’ll be right back, keep an eye on things will you?”

“Sure thing boss!” He replied enthusiastically, saluting his master.

Doflamingo rushed from the room, his coat fluttering behind him as it always did when he was in a hurry. His heart pounded in his chest as he scurried down the corridors. Occasionally he would flash a smile as he passed a guest but as soon as they were out of view a quivering frown replaced his shit-eating grin. He was so scared that she really did leave him this time.

‘What if she never read my letter?’

The thought made his stomach ache. What if she never understands how he feels? He shook the thoughts from his mind as he approached the library doors. He stood before them, hands shaking and head spinning.

He pushed the doors open. And there she was, shoes off and in her favorite chair, book in hand. The book. The book he put the letter in. And hadn’t noticed him yet. He didn't want her to. As he watched, she just sat there, book closed and staring blankly at the cover. It looked as though she were in deep thought. A conflicting one at that.

Doflamingo couldn’t stand it any longer. He stepped forwards, making his presence known to her. (Y/N) jerked her head up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Her face fell, looking rather disappointed as she saw him. That look always made his chest hurt. That look of pure and utter disappointment.

“There you are.” He spoke.

“What do you want?” She replied snarky, resting her elbow on the armrest and her head in her hand.

“It’s almost midnight, you should come back to the party at least for a toast.” He suggested.

(Y/N) shrugged, looking back down at the book, the letter peeking out.

“Please.” He begged softly.

She sighed, “Alright fine.”

She stood from the chair, stretching before putting her shoes back on. She left the book sitting in her chair, giving it one last look before following him out of the room,

It was only 11:30 pm when they returned to the party. The room was so loud that it made her head vibrate. She was immediately overwhelmed by the energy in the room. It was evident on her face and he of course saw. He reached down, grabbing her hand and giving her a soft, genuinely reassuring look. It was one of the first times she felt he was being truly kind.

11:40 pm.

Only twenty minutes. She was still drunk and high and was beginning to get a headache.

11:50 pm.

Doflamingo was looking rather proud with his hand resting on her shoulder as he chatted with an old acquaintance. Her head pounded now and the room was spinning. She gripped his coat just to ground herself to something familiar.

11:59 pm.

He had dragged her to stand in front of the clock, shoving a glass of champagne that she didn’t need into her hand. He laughed loudly as he pulled her close, startling her.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Before she could even react, his much larger lips were pressed to hers in a passionate kiss. It was only a couple of seconds long and it certainly caught her off guard, but it was nothing like their other two kisses. There was no coercion. No tongue. No groping. It was just a kiss. Casual even. Like she had been kissing him for years. It didn’t feel forced even though it was. For a moment she even kissed him back.

As he pulled back, he looked down at her, smiling. Not his typical devious grin, but a soft, gentle, loving, smile. He didn’t look triumphant or egotistical. He looked human. And in that moment, not even a full second, she thought she might have felt something.

[healmydesires]

it’s warming up ꕤ (a.s)

pairing: anakin skywalker x sub!f!reader

summary: anakin edging you. that’s it.

genre: smut + fluff , tbh pure filth sorry! (mdni! 18+ only)

word count: 1,5k

warnings/tags: pxrn no plot sorry <3, established relationship, sub!reader and soft dom!anakin because … that’s just my thing, use of vibrator, edging, vaginal fingering, oral!f receiving, dirty talk, begging, praise kink,, after care is heavily implied. lots of pet names.

a/n: this came up to me this morning and all I could think about all day was anakin edging you 😭 this was supposed to be a short blurb but I can never restrain myself with writing smut so here you go. 💘 enjoy!

dividers by @saradika <3 thank uuuu for making these 🫂

ao3 • masterlist

Anakin is cruel.

He’s been keeping the toy on the lowest setting and every single time you are about to spill over the edge he would abruptly withdraw the vibrator from your pussy and stop your oncoming orgasm.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s been edging you this evening.

“Please, Ani,” There’s a sharp gasp lodged in your throat, fighting to be released as you grapple for oxygen. The buzzing and steady vibration overwhelms you as he continues to hold the vibrator close to your cunt. Anakin’s body is still hovering over yours, his eyes transfixed on the way your face contorts with every movement he controls.

“You like that angel?” Anakin smirks as you can’t seem to form a coherent answer as pleasure consumes you. “Poor little thing, she can’t even talk.”

Every now and then he changes angles, moving the massaging head of the device to your already fluttering hole, leaving you a whimpering mess. Your pussy is aching and throbbing for release. Then he presses the device right into your clit as he leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, swallowing all your little noises.

“Anakin, please… it hurts.” you whimper desperately while pulling away from his lips, as he presses the toy ruthlessly against your clit.

The man chuckles lightly in amusement as he shakes his head. He then pulls away completely as he notices you getting close again. A broken mewl escapes you as he edges you for what feels like the eighth time tonight.

You’re hot all over, feeling extremely dizzy. You whine in frustration as you grab the sheets beside you. “Please, Ani, I’m sorry.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?” He lifts his gaze as he looks directly at you, his eyes full with lust while he furrows his brows at you. Anakin then turns the vibrator to the highest setting as he presses it lightly against your clit. Slowly, his lips curl into a wicked smirk as your body jolts at the action and cry out.

“Are you sorry for acting like a brat the whole day?” He sighs dramatically before looking at you pointedly. “Or, are you only apologising because you want to come?”

“No!” You try to squirm out of Anakin’s grip but you should know better than that. He’s a lot stronger than you after all.

“No?” He raises one of his eyebrows.

“I—”

“Oh sweetheart,” Anakin tuts with a dangerous smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You know better than to believe him when he says he understands. Despite his devious expression, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Y-you do?” You whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah, I do.” He smiles down at you. As the man above you holds eye contact with you he presses the vibrator against you while it’s still on the highest setting.

“Ani, fuck!” You scream as you throw your head back. You squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure overwhelms you once again. Tears well in your eyes as the tension in the lower pit in your stomach starts building all over again. Quickly.

You try to grasp for breath as he every now and then presses the vibrator harder against your sensitive clit.

He chuckles as you rock your pussy against the toy, as you try to find release. Your hips bucking up to meet the movements of it, your eyes squeezing shut as your climax feels so close again. “So desperate. So needy.”

“Only for you.” You gasp as you writhe underneath him.

Your poor pussy is soaking, your hole begging to be filled and your clit pulses heavily as the love of your life continues to press it against the sensitive spot.

“Ani,” you whine, hoping he will let you cum this time, “please can I cum? I can’t do it anymore. Jus’ wanna cum, Anakin, pleasepleaseplease.”

You’ll never be afraid to beg for what you want. Especially when it comes to Anakin. But if he’ll actually take mercy on you, that’s something else entirely.

“I don’t know, baby,” he coos, “do you think you deserve it?”

“Y-yes! I d-do.” You whimper as frustrated tears slide down your cheeks.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “I don’t think you do.”

“B-but I’ve been nothing but a good girl now.”

“I guess you’ve been doing good,” Anakin hums before he leans down to lick a stripe up your neck, making more whines to spill out of you. “But, I’m not sure you’ve been good enough though.”

“Please, I can’t—”. A broken gasp leaves your lips as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Your hole clenches around nothing as it begs for his touch.

He chuckles as he continues to tease your wet hole, almost penetrating it with one of his fingers every now and then. Your hips move against him, as you try to chase his gentle touch, to feel more of him. A devious smile stays on his face as he takes you in. You’re so desperate. He finds your pleading truly amusing as you attempt to convince him.

He then turns off the toy and pulls his touch away from you entirely once again.

“No!” You cry out. Tears continue to slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Pleasepleaseplease pleaaaaase. Ani—”

Moments later a surprised moan falls off your lips as he licks a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dips his tongue into your entrance before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet tongue and sucking your overly sensitive button into his mouth.

You practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. Your body trembles as you try to grind your pussy slowly against Anakin’s lips.

“I know baby, I know.” He whispers against your pussy as he looks up at you intensely from between your legs.

Strong arms then move, locking around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his mouth again.

As Anakin buries his face in your cunt, he continues his ministrations on your clit as he gets lost in the feeling of your scent, taste, and your moans and whines fueling him on.

A finger of his then travels down to your slit, slowly sliding inside. Pumping the single digit into your wet hole, his mouth remaining on your clit, circling around the bud with the tip of his tongue.

“Please,” you whimper.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut as tears continue to well in your eyes, his arms press into your hip bones to pin you in place as you buck into him again and again, trying to get closer to that feeling of his tongue lapping on your clit and pleading him to let you cum.

You are so close. Suddenly you feel his fingers and mouth retreat from your core and you whine at the loss. This makes Anakin chuckle.

“Hold it.”

You were so close. Tears slide down your cheeks as he pulls another broken moan out of you. “Ani, please. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What did I say?” He whispers harshly before he leans down again. He licks up a single stripe up your slit. “I said hold it.”

Then, he slides his tongue into your entrance, curling the muscle upwards to brush your walls.

You feel so dizzy. Moaning and whining, you writhe underneath him. “Fuck, Aniiiii.” You whimper when he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you just as his fingers had been doing moments before, hips bucking uncontrollably into his mouth as you repeatedly whine his name.

You try, you really try so hard not to come as his tongue continues to pleasure you. But it seems impossible.

Everything feels so fuzzy as you whine, rambling, pleading with him once again.

Anakin slips his tongue out of you, his gaze softening as he takes you in.

“Alright baby, you can let go. You’ve earned it.” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit.

With one last harsh suck on your nub you come with a loud cry, your back arching. Your vision turns white and your ears ring as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost think you might pass out.

Gasping out his name, hips stuttering until the final waves of aftershock pass. Your body tenses before it relaxes back into the soft mattress. Gently, he laps at your release until it’s getting too much.

“So good.” Anakin whispers as he presses a final kiss on your hip bone, then slowly crawls back up to you, his lips leaving kisses in his wake.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to keep your eyes open as he finally hovers over you.

“My good girl,” he whispers before both of your lips meet, the kiss soft and gentle, making you feel all fuzzy inside.

[effy-writes]

Hey! Can I request a Verosika x touch starved male! reader one shot? (not as a smut fic).

Plot based around her getting in trouble after a show of hers in the human world where the reader is able to help her out (legal or physical trouble). She begins to fall for them whilst flirting and tries to convince them to join her in hell, also showing her true form. (reader would like it).

ofc! this was a little hard for me to write BUT i really hope you enjoy!! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Verosika x touch starved! M! Reader: That Girl Is Like A Dream

Verosika was like a girl you met in a dream. A very, vivid, dream. The way she talked, the way she performs, how she carries herself, her personality was like something from a movie, and you loved that about her.

You first met her at one of her performances and saw that she got in trouble for public nudity. Before she could got taken by the cops you quickly told her the name of a lawyer, your dad.

Having a dad as a lawyer has its pros and cons. The pro, hella rich, the con, he never had time to parent you as a kid. You were always alone and had to keep yourself company. Your mom was completely out of the picture so you couldn’t even hang out with her. That’s one of the reasons why you were very fond of Verosika.

The second time you met her was when she was in your dad’s office that was located in the house. You overheard the two bickering about her case and how there’s a chance he can’t get her off scott free. You quickly peaked your head in, “You could say she’s from a country that doesn’t care about nudity on the beach…like Spain?”

Her eyes lit up, “¡Sí! ¡Soy de España!”

Your dad was eh at first, but finally agreed because that’s kinda what his job is, lie.

Whenever Verosika left your dad’s office she did a “come here” motion with her finger and had a devious smirk on her face.

“Yeah?” You answered.

“Thanks for getting me out of legal trouble.” She put her hand on her hip.

“Not exactly, you still have to-”

She put her hand up to make you stop talking, “I know, but still, I feel like I should repay you.” She walked closer to you where your bodies touched.

“Uh..you don’t have to do that.” You slowly backed up, “I’m flattered though.”

“That’s the first, usually guys are all over me.” She looked at her nails, “How about we go out together? Like at a bar or something.”

“Uh..sure. I’m Y/n.”

“Verosika. You ready now?”

“To go to a bar? It’s 2 pm.”

“Oh right I forgot, Earth is different than Hell.” She mumbled.

“Huh?”

“It’s a Spaniard thing.” She joked, “Come on.” She grabbed your hand and exited the house door. “Which one is your car?”

“That one.” You pointed as you lead her the way over to it.

The two of you got inside and you turned the car on, “You’re not from Spain, are you?” You couldn’t help but to smile.

“No, Soy de España.”

“Is that the only words you know?” You laughed, pulling the car out of the driveway and drove to the nearest bar.

“Sí.”

“You’re different, you know that? Never met a girl this bold AND be nice at the same time.”

“Awe you think I’m nice?” She smirked as she placed her hand on your thigh.

You stiffened up because of her touch, but you wanted more of it. “Yeah, something like that.”

Verosika did not hesitate to get plastered. You kept reminding her that she needs to try to stay out of trouble since she’s on thin ice with the legal system. She also gets very touchy when she’s drunk. Her hands were all over your chest, arms, and thighs. Sure, you had partners in the past, but you didn’t feel the same way as you do now with Verosika. Her touch was different, it was like she was from another planet.

You didn’t know where she lived so you drove her back to your place and let her sleep in a separate room. You did stay by her side to make sure she won’t throw up and choke on her vomit. You wasn’t planning on sleeping in this spare bedroom with her but you assumed you did since you woke up in that bedroom, but when you fully woken up you realized she was gone, other than a letter. You titled your head out of curiosity and read the letter.

Thanks for letting me spend the night. Visit me at the pier around 7 pm <3

The moment it struck 7 you made your way to the pier and saw her hair flow due to the sea breeze. She waved at you as you walked on over.

“Hey! Why did you leave my place so early?”

She shrugged, “I had better things to do. Which by the way, I was thinking, after this whole legal trouble bullshit, how about to come back to my place.”

“How come I can’t go to your place now?”

She sighed and combed through her hair with her fingers, “I’m from Hell.”

“What?” You laughed.

“Like actual Hell. It exists.”

“Are you like…schizophrenic or something? It’s okay if you are! It’s just..what do you mean?”

“Human men are so predictable.” She laughed as she pulled out a yellow crystal, and within moments her skin turned from peach to pink, tilted horns grew, and her hair looked longer and poofy. “See? I’m from Hell.”

“Holy shit.” You mumbled, “I’m so fucking confused.”

“How the hell are you confused? I literally told you i’m from Hell and showed you my true form.”

“It does explain a lot. Why are you on earth then?”

“I’m a succubus and my job is to fuck men until they cum so hard that they die.” She smirked.

“Really?”

“I wish, but I am a succubus.”

“Jesus. I have no idea what to say. Don’t get me wrong, you’re attractive human or succubus but wow. This is a lot to take in.”

“Awe, you find me attractive?” She swayed her hips as she walked closer to you.

You gulped, “I can definitely tell you’re a succubus.”

“I knew the moment I met you, you were touch starved.” She smirked, “Which is why I think you should come live with me in Hell.”

“Are humans allowed to go in there?”

“I broke so many laws down there and at this point I don’t think they care.” She snickered, “So is that a yes?”

You didn’t know if she was leaving some sort of scent for you to follow, but either way you were intrigued. “Yeah. How come you don’t just go to Hell instead of dealing with the legal trouble up here?”

“Because I wouldn’t be able to do this,” She proceeded to pull you closer to her with her tail, her hands traveled up your chest and her mouth latched onto your neck. After turning that spot into a bruise she let go. “Plus I find you attractive whenever you’re begging for my touch. I can sense it you know.” That smirk will be the death of you.

“When are we gonna go to Hell then? Now?”

“You look eager,” She teased. “Do you want to go now?”

“Sure, why not?”

She opened the portal and before you could step in you felt her breath on your neck, “Once we get down there I can show you allll the things that succubi’s knows that even human women doesn’t know how to do.”

[pinkspaceghost]

🔮 The Amazing Digital Coven AU 🔮

Y'know I had this thought...I REALLY love TADC, and I REALLY love all things witchy....so why not put them together?

And Thus THE AMAZING DIGITAL COVEN AU is born! (All credit to @gooseworx for the awesome original The Amazing Digital Circus)

Here's A Plot Description:

"Follow Pomni, a young witchling who accidentally gets sucked into a whimsically witchy digital world after putting on a cursed headset. Now, she must enchant, hex, and divine her way out by honing her powers of witchcraft!"

______________________________________________________________

Setting:

Instead of this AU taking place in the circus, it takes place in a wacky metaphysical shop where things are constantly going wrong! Plants which ensnare and even try to eat anyone in sight, crystals and tarot cards flying around in a frenzy, and then there's Jax. He doesn't make the situation any easier. At the Amazing Digital Coven, Any day without a major explosion is a good day!

Now if that doesn't sound crazy enough...I already have some ideas for what I want the characters to be like! (Though I'll take any suggestions too!)

______________________________________________________________

Character Descriptions

Pomni: A Young Witchling, doesn't really have any powers yet. Learns from others and tries to help them in their respective fields to learn more about them and become powerful enough to leave the Digital Coven.

Caine: Your cheerfully vibrant Coven Leader, Metaphysical Shop Owner, and Lover of the Psuedoscientific! Because he is AI, he primarily thinks of the specialities of each member to be mere hobbies rather than actual spiritual practices or talents, much to the ire of each of them. Though, in his own caring way, he does his best to give each member of his coven the opportunity to "thrive".

Ragatha: An optimistic Herbalist and Healer, Ragatha is the primary Potion Master for the group, and excels in protective magic. Unfortunately, her talent is often wasted on fixing the damage and havoc Jax leaves in his wake.

Jax: Devious Hex Witch/Magician. Delights in causing mischief and chaos wherever he goes usually causes only minor jinxes, though has been known to whip up more devious hexes on those he doesn't quite like.

Gangle: A gentle Astrologer who delights in sharing her knowledge on zodiac signs, house placements, and planet meanings. Don't be fooled by her timid nature though, she can read people like a book.

Zooble: (Honestly I am still trying to figure out what I want them to be) Master of Transfiguration, can transform objects they touch with some effort, particularly to create and find parts that are useful to them during certain adventures. Will attempt to transform Jax if annoyed by him too much.

Kinger: Avid Animist, and Meditation Expert. Deeply cares about the souls of all animals (especially insects) and when going into a deep meditation can even embody some aspects of said insects. (Ex. Quickness for a Bee, levitation for a Butterfly, etc)

Gummigoo: Initially a skeptic that was introduced during a pseudo- Medieval adventure where the gang had to defend their magical tavern from an angry mob in a hostile village. He lead the charge on destroying the tavern until he met Pomni, who was able to convince him that The Amazing Digital Coven's work did more good than harm (sans Jax). He eventually fell so enamored with the witchling that he decided to come back to the metaphysical shop and become a Tarot Reader. (He doesn't die in this AU! Hooray!)

______________________________________________________________

Official Character Designs for this AU will be coming out soon!

If you are pumped to see more, give me a follow! If you have any requests or ideas for fanfiction, get creating! Just be sure to use #theamazingdigitalcoven and credit me @pinkspaceghost !!!

And Remember.... "If it be wacky, do as you wish!"

Disclaimer

(also I do realize now that there are a couple other The Amazing Digital Covens, though since the others don't really have a plethora of info and this one is slightly different I'll operate it as The Amazing Digital Coven too)

Also for this AU I for Gangle's Astrology specialty I will be going with my own assumptions about their signs, not their birthdays because Goose didn't give them any.

[greenygreenland]

Tell Him: Hunter x Reader

-i love omega so ima write about her at 1:29 even though i have school tomorrow

-i write for female reader because that's what I'm most comfortable with (I'm sorry, please don't be offended, I don't mean anything by it!)

Summary: Omega thinks it's time she play matchmaker behind your back.

The warm steam after a nice shower was enough to relax anyone. You finished running a brush through your long hair and made your way out of the 'fresher. Omega sat in the common room, kicking her feet back and forth with that usual bright smile of hers.

It's been nearly a month since you've met her. You can't say it feels like that though. She got on well with you, and she's become a little sister, someone who tended to look up to you and watch your every move. But what made her such a wonderful companions wasn't just her jolly personality. No, it was her perceptiveness. Sometimes, you wanted to curse that trait of hers.

Such as now.

"What are you thinking about?" she inquired. You folded your towel and plopped into the seat next to her with a shrug. "Maybe about what we're going to eat next week. Credits don't come by easily, Omega." She leaned back with a huff, blowing away a loose strand of hair. "Besides credits, economics, whatever, you got to have something else to think about."

"Housing, fuel--"

"Not that!" she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "I'm talking about..." She motioned to a certain boy down the hall, lips pulled into the most devious smirk she could muster. Hunter stood a little ways away, back turnt and eyes focused on a lone datapad. You were glad he was preoccupied, or else he'd surely hear the conversation.

Omega grinned. "Well?"

You didn't like the look in her eye, or the way she smugly raised her brows. "I don't know what you're talking about." you stated. "I need to go put my stuff away, I'll be back."

"Urgh." She leaned forward as far as she would go over her knees and let out the galaxy's longest sigh. "Come on, you're just lying to yourself! And don't you dare evade the question (Y/n)!"

But you weren't listening. Maker forbid Hunter hear the nonsense Omega spewed. There was no way he'd see you the same way you saw him, so what was the point in trying? It would only ruin your friendship and make everything awkward. You couldn't have that. Especially since you all lived together, there would be no avoiding him if things went sour.

You padded over to your room. Omega shared it with you, and in the small space, you couldn't waste a single plot of land. Boxes lay under your bunk, a mix of Omega's and your own. The walls were spray painted with Clone Force 99's logo. Beside it, tacked to the durasteel wall with adhesive, was a messy sketch on an old piece of flimsi. You can't remember when you drew it.

Omega liked it though, so you kept it there.

A sigh escaped your lips as you hung your towel to dry and threw the pair of dirty clothes into a basket. You wondered what Hunter was up to. He looked so focused on his datapad earlier, scrolling, typing, and doing whatever. Maybe he was figuring out your next stop. Maybe he was just looking at old reports. He had his lips pressed so thinly, and his gaze so focused. With his hair back in the crimson bandana, and a lax stance, he couldn't look more--

You paused. No. There was no way you'd think like that. No, no, no. A groan escaped your lips and you punched the bed with a frustrated groan. "What the kriff! Why can't he just--urgh." You fell to your knees, head hitting the edge of the bed with a low 'thump'.

Hunter was a really sweet guy. He liked to bring you a cup of caf or tea when you stayed up late. Sometimes he brought a small snack too, along with whatever else your heart desired. And not only was he good with weapons, battle tactics, and taking care of his brothers, but helping Omega. Yes. He was actually a really great brother to his tiny, little sister.

Now, about his looks? Oh, you could go on about that for days (just like with his personality). His eyes weren't soft, but they weren't cold either. They were neutral, yet caring and warm like a fire on a cold night. And when he looked at you with those honey hues, he admired more than your appearance. He saw you like how Omega looked at the cool hues of hyperspace. With wonder, awe, and adoration.

The doors swished open and you jolted to your feet. Hunter held up his hands. "Woah, just me." he stated. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath. Hunter made his way inside, brows knitted uncertainly. "Omega said you needed something? Can't say you look like it."

Your heartbeat seemed to steadily rise. You wished it wouldn't because if it were any louder, then Hunger would have heard.

Maybe he already did.

When you were through with this, you'd chew Omega out. How dare that little runt set you up with the boy you love. How dare she remind you how much you'd like to run your hands through his hair. How dare she--

Hunter shifted from foot to foot. "Something wrong?" By the raised brow, you had a feeling he heard your racing heart. Dang that Omega. Dang her. "Nope, nothing's wrong Hunter! I just...uh...was wondering..."

About what? Where we're going next? No, that's stupid. You already knew.

Hunter suspiciously folded his arms across his chest. "If there's something bothering you, it's okay. I'll listen." Your cheeks flared red and the room began to spin a little. "Uhm, uh...where's Omega?"

"Down the hall."

"I'll just as her for 'help'."

Hunter didn't fail to notice the way you clenched your jaw. He had a feeling you wanted to say something else, but thought better of asking. You dipped out of the room and raced towards the little rascal with a frown. "Omega!"

She looked up from her notebook. You'd lent it to her a while back, and she's never given it back since (not that you mind). "What do you think you're doing?" She raised a brow with a smug smile. "Nothing, why? Do you need me for anything?"

You plopped into the seat next to her and snatched the pen from her.

"Hey, that's mine."

You rolled your eyes. "Just wait," you flipped to a new page. "I'll give it back." You scribbled a short sentence. She watched curiously.

Did you tell Hunter anything?

You handed her the pen.

Maybe.

You rolled your eyes.

What do you mean maybe? He's on to me.

Omega snorted.

Duh. That's the point. If you're too scared to say anything, then make sure he knows that you like him.

You made a face.

Why?

It was Omega's turn to roll her eyes.

So he'll confess to you first!

You paused. That actually wasn't a bad idea, but you couldn't say it was a hundred percent fool-proof. What if he got shy? What if he decided being friends was better? What if he didn't like you like you liked him?

"Dang it Omega." you grunted. She peered over your shoulder and grinned. "Hi Hunter!" You followed her gaze just as he awkwardly waved. He was cute like that. You liked those little quirks about him, it was what gave him charm.

"(Y/n) has a question for you!"

You stuck a finger in her side, right under the ribs. She jolted, laughing as you tickled her. "No--I--do--not!"

"Yes!" she cried through tears. "Yes she does!"

Hunter made his way over with a look of bewilderment. "What is it?" He watched as you continued to tickle Omega for her daring stunt. She deserved it. After all she's done to you today, too.

Suddenly, she stiffened. You paused, and she took that moment to shove you over the table. She was strong, way more than you gave her credit. You flew into Hunter, who wrapped his arms around you as he hit the deck with a groan. He was about to get up, but then he tripped over air and threw out his arms on either side of your head to avoid squishing you under him.

"Omega!" you shouted. "Why did you have to do that?"

She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes all wide and sparkly. "Woah."

"'Woah' yourself. You went too far this--" You looked up, and that was when you realised what had happened. Hunter's eyes met your own. If he didn't hear your racing heart back in your room, then he certainly did now. Your face burned, your body felt warm. Too warm.

"I--uh--sorry."

You shook your head. "No--it's not your fault--I..." Hunter stood and offered a hand. You took it and he pulled you up like you weighed nothing. "Sorry about that," he muttered. You shook it off with a shrug. "No, it's--it's fine." Maker, why was your face still on fire?

"(Y/n) wants to say something!" Omega called. Your cheeks flared even worse, if that was possible. "No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!" She jumped onto the table. "Just say it! I can't take it anymore!"

Hunter knitted his brows together. "What is it?"

The heat rising rapidly to your face made the room spin again. You covered her cheeks with a groan, leaning against what you thought would be the wall, only for a pair of arms to catch you before you tripped.

Hunter's arms.

Oh, you couldn't take this anymore! Why did he have to catch you with such a tender look on his face? Such a concerned frown that made him look like a puppy?

"I--I uh...sorry...!" you squeaked. "I just...I..."

Hunter still hadn't let you go and it was distracting how his grip had tightened around your waist as you went limp in his arms. He placed you on your feet, a brow raised that was much too attractive for his own good. "Just spit it out already. You've been acting weird lately."

"I like you."

"What?"

"What?" you echoed with wide eyes. "I didn't say anything."

But instead of a sour frown or a distant glance to the side, light flickered in Hunter's honey eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. You thought you would pass out as he sized you up and down.

"If my hearing weren't so good, I would've doubted what came out of your mouth," he smiled. "I've been wondering when you'd confess. Took longer than I thought."

You turned to Omega and shook her violently back and forth. "You little stinker! You knew this whole time!"

"I--don't--know--what--you--mean!"

You shook her harder, and if it weren't for Hunter splitting you both apart, you would have absolutely shown Omega a thing or two you learned in defense class. She only giggled, as if you weren't about to rip her head off.

"All's well that ends well?" she said with a sheepish grin.

A snarky retort sat on your lips, only to vanish as Hunter's gaze fell upon yours, tender and gentle. "For once, I agree with the kid." He smiled and it was like spring had come early. "Don't you agree, (Y/n)?"

It was hard to formulate a sentence with how red your face burned.

[ace-of-d1am0nds]

The Birds

Was there ever really innocence?

thank you my lovely friend @kastledevils for the gifs<3

Paul is a representation of Louis’ innocence and his obliviousness to Lestat’s (and his own eventual) vampirism. Paul and his birds become a sort of plot device for which Louis can see his own responsibility and how it is clouding his judgment. Paul’s schizophrenia not only leads him to believe he has birds telling him things but it also leads him to the church a place in which Louis denies until after Paul’s death. The death of the birds is a loss of innocence regarding his “devious” and damned tendencies, of which Lestat will immediately strip him of that innocence further by turning him into a vampire.

Lestat says to Claudia after berating her for attempting to turn a number of boys, claiming the reason it didn’t work is because she is too fragile to be successful. The foreshadowing to season 2 is incredibly strong in this scene. I’ll get to that, though. Lestat pointing out Claudia’s physical and emotional immaturity in this scene as a whole is highlighted by the bird metaphor. He is calling her a small, breakable thing and she effectually proves his point. She goes on a killing spree, keeping souvenirs, and eventually running away. Only then does she lose that innocence portrayed by the birds.

Louis baiting birds to their window when he first arrives to Paris is an interesting choice if we choose to follow this metaphor. In his mind, he has already lost his innocence in the act of killing Lestat. This is reflected in his killing and draining of the birds that come to his balcony railing. What is not taken into account in his perspective of his own innocence is the fact that he is feeding the birds. He is bringing life to those he does not kill. He is trying to rebuild an innocence he had lost long ago through finding himself in Paris. He wants his autonomy back, he wants to know who he is outside of Lestat and Claudia, something that Claudia herself encourages. When Armand comes into the picture, this changes and he stops feasting on the birds, at least not in front of Claudia.

In the corner of the painting of Arun/Amadeo/Armand, there are birds in the corner of the image. Armand is describing his tragic and traumatic upbringing and we barely get a glimpse of them flying in the corner. Armand never had an innocence to him. From such a young age he was a servant and a slave, yet there is a sort of innocence to how he describes this time in his life. He says “I served him with all my heart.” This way of thinking is what gets him into the situations we see him in. His childhood is less innocence than it is a naivety. His retrospective look on his childhood and adolescence is with rose tinted glasses as he describes Amadeo’s experience with Marius as a twisted sort of love (I do not condone the actions of Marius de Romanus, I’m only saying Armand believes he was in love with him).

Ok, this is the lynchpin in my whole argument. Baby Lou. Delainey Hayes’ Claudia is all about reclaiming her adulthood now that she isn’t tied to her maker. And yet… The role she is placed in by the Paris coven is that of the young little bird. She tries to learn to escape and fly away again and again but she fails and falls to her death with a crack in the concrete. Her ghost floats above her, the freedom she never got. Over and over again she fights the role until eventually, she runs away with her lover, Madeleine. Claudia, however, was always doomed by the narrative and is roped back to Paris and well, we know how that ends…

[queercoshon]

Here's part 3 of a thing. I have no plans for this series. Just gonna write hot scenarios until I get stuck and then let it fizzle out. So enjoy until then! (Don't worry, I have plenty more ideas for this. Just don't expect like, plot or character development lol.)

--------------------------

"Hic-urrp! Ohhh..."

It wasn't even 1pm and it sounded like Shavon had eaten themself to a drunk stomach ache already.

This wasn't quite an everyday thing since summer started, but pretty close. Mornings started with a hair of the dog drink and a blunt or bong rip, left conveniently within reach by Millie. Then she'd bring out some sort of breakfast, and that would set the precedent for the day.

"Mil-hic-lie! CannI have anothr drink please?" Millie smirked and flushed just a little. That pig doesn't know how to stop.

She set what she was cooking to low and grabbed a 6 pack from the fridge.

Shavon's face split into a dumb smile as Millie cracked a can open for them. "Thaaanks, Millie. You'rr the best-hic!" They took several large gulps, letting out a raucous burp when coming up for air. More burps followed as Millie rubbed along their stretchmarked gut, feeling it work away at everything inside.

"Are you hungry now, or can you wait for what I'm cooking?"

Shavon was lost in the belly rub, barely able to register that they needed to respond.

"Huh? Hic! Oh, I cn wait. I'm kinda -Urrap-hic- ugh full. Hic!"

"Okay, hon," Millie patted their gut and watched the outer layer of fat ripple, unperturbed by the stuffed mass beneath it. For now, at least. "I'm gonna leave a joint here in case you want it. Call me if you need help lighting it."

Shavon nodded, their dull eyes floating back to the tv, their hands absent-mindedly caressing their belly, feeling absolutely in hog heaven.

Unfortunately Millie had to work this evening, but it didn't mean she couldn't influence Shavon's habits while away. She had taken to making big batches of foods like casseroles and crockpot dishes. Most of the time there would be enough left for her to get a meal or two out of it. But when it was one of Shavon's favourites, like tonight's mac and cheese, Millie didn't expect any leftovers.

She knew the way she cooked was devious, maybe unethical or immoral, but if Shavon enjoyed it and she enjoyed it, what was the harm?

The sauce started out with a load of butter, and the liquid was pure heavy cream with just a little pasta water. The amount of cheese that got grated in made the whole sauce stretch and string like a cartoon pizza. And then there was added shredded cheese on top, broiled to turn crispy and golden.

She was busy thinking about what all these calories would do to her ballooning roommate when she heard a thud by the door.

Shavon was leaning heavily on the doorframe, somehow still swaying. Their gut was so rounded out from gorging all morning, but it still hung lower and lower every day. Their eyes tried to scan the kitchen, but Millie could see that Shavon couldn't.

"What're you doing up, Chevy? If you want something, let me bring it to you." She popped the dish in the oven and approached Shavon, wanting to be within arm's reach in case they went down. It would be a lot easier to stop them from hitting the floor rather than getting their 315lb mass off of it.

"I wan...I want.. uh..." they looked around the kitchen confused, trying to place why they got out of their cozy spot on the tiny recliner. "Urrp. I thinkk I wan food," they giggled and swayed a little more. Millie could smell the joint on Shavon's breath and skin.

"Munchies hitting you hard?" Shavon nodded a little too enthusiastically, all of their fat jiggling in the aftershock.

"Well, the mac and cheese won't be done until I have to leave for work-" the face Shavon wore could only be described as devastated, "but why don't I get you set up with some snacks until then?"

Their face screwed into a thoughtful look, and then nodded approvingly. Millie helped them turn around and gently led the lumbering mass back to the abused recliner. If she didn't have to work she would have guided them to the couch, where there was enough space for Millie to sit and help...

She cracked open another beer and handed it over, Shavon drinking it automatically,  guzzling as much as they could before letting out a monstrous belch.

No wonder they can barely walk, that's the fourth beer from the six pack. Drunk pig.

Millie made a few trips back and forth from the kitchen, bringing a big bowl of ice cream, a box of cookies, 2 different kinds of chips, and a coke with vodka (which was maybe two thirds coke...)

"Yyure -urrrrp- thhe beshs Millie." She didn't know if Shavon was barely intelligible due to inebriation or the two cookies shoved in their mouth. They were cute either way.

"I'll bring you dinner before I leave for work." Millie ruffled Shavon's hair, almost making them purr.

And with that, she left to take a cold shower before work.

---------------------------

You evef wake ykurself up vy burping? Happend to me all the tkme now. How long have I been passsed out for? Urrrp.

Whee the fuck is my phone? Oh, haha ut 's under my bellu. I losd a lit o things there now .

5:16pm. And a message drom Millie.

Dinner's in the oven on warm. Your bong is in the drying rack. Refilled the fridge, too. Have a good night;* xx

Mmm Millie's mac abf cheese. I been smelling it sunce thus afternkon. Just gotta grt yp to gfab it. One, two. Hnnnbg. Whoa, i,m up, and barely even stumbled! And not because i'm drunk. Thus is barely tipsy. But my gut has been gfowing do fsst, i havent fugured out my nfw centre of gravity yrt. Urp.

Millie says I'm starting to eaddle, but i don'f thjbk so. All my fat judt sways a lot more, and my beelly kinda grts in the way of my thighs. I just have to adjezt my gait a lil to make walkbg easiet.

Okay. Things I've remembered to do: turn of warming on oven. Use oveb mitts to get this dish out. Not bute into it right away even thoufh it smells irresistble because it's gonna br way too hot still. Grab a cozy sk i can put the tray on my stomaxh when i'm back in thr living room. Move the case of ales to thr living room, and geab cutlry. What am I nissing? Og right, the bong. Aww she even left fower in the grjnder for me. I just gotta fill it eith waterbefogre setting it up

Ahhh. I dn't realose how tired I am intil I sit down now. This gut is getting heavy, and standing maked my knees and back kinda sore. Sitting eases that.

Si does weed. Fee deep tokes and wverything is so relaxdd. It's alfeady hitting when I crack the first can.

I'm staving. Legit, I can hesr my belly grumbling. Not for long...

Ugh thid is seriously the best mac and cheerse. I din't know whst she does to it, but it's so cresmu and smooth, and rich and garlicy, sith a perfectly toSted bread crumv crustong on top. O know this pan is huge, but i hope she doesn't wsnt wnough leftoveds for a full meal.

Ressstong ot on mu belly means itXs super close to my mouth, so it,s easy to shovel right in. I'm enjoying the flavour too, I swer! So much that I judt need more of it right now. I just need more.

Fhvk. The tray feeks so fucking heavg. It's lighter now. Because mkst of the stuff is crammed un my gut. Im sk fuvking full, the trag us adding sk mych pressure. But i dont wanns move it, thered only like a 6th kf it left. I judt gott Urrrp! Ooooh rest a bjt.

Braaap! Hic-urp! Dowwsnt help havung 6? 7? Beerrs in my gut, tajing ul space. I mean, ig goes ggiod with the mac and cheese, and bser makds ne hungry. Urrp Mosf thhbngs make ne hungrh.

Weed. Weed will help. Unph f i can reach the sfupid bonb. Dont wanna spill the trayz and my gut is starting to get n the wau. Buuuuurraap! Mmm the presssure reaaalu helped pish that one out. Ok lihyt up and then buiiiig unhale.

Yeahhh thats it. This reclinner id so comgy i coukd mekt rught into it. Crack another beed for the ckttonmouth  and for the effecf its gonba have . Im still so stuffed, but noe i just need tk eat

Unnnggh braap. Jusf keep shovellig it in. Barely has a tastd now, im not even chewing. Jusr wallow forkfil after dorkful dosn. My bdlly us gettging itchy. Soon i finish the fray i can deak with that, but im so close, cant stop now.

Fuck. Fu-urrrp ohhh. I fodtgot to vdeathe i think. Im panting luke a dog. Im completely rund, better put thd tray diwn befjde ot slips off. Fuck eveth breatb is makinf ny ght bob up and doen rjght kn my lap

Oh my god belky rubf fdsl heavenkt right nkw. Its ao tight. I shoved a wbole casserkle tray of pssta and chesse saucd into my mkhth. Theres like, no giveto mu upper belly ehe  i press- urrrrrp! Burrrrp! Urrrap! Yh i needfed thast. Burks helo.

Means beer will hell? Chug, chug, chug mmm nopr the pressure ud back and wordr yhan befo- braaaaaap! Hic-buurp! Hic-urp! Urrrrrp hats helpful. Mmmm brerrrp ffffuck.

Ibdontbthink j can stag wake mhch linger. Igs so hkt tk be thid fuked up and rjoubnd, but i cant keeo mh eyes open   beshdes i cang even eeach wirhb all this dyiffed in me .... i dunno if u can reach at allk any mire.

I hope Millie's proufd kof me.

[ziekkfreak2-0]

From the moment Eva mentioned "Bastilles and Basilisks" in her FTE, I knew she was truly a failgirl nerd.

Anyhow, I just finished Chapter 1 of Project: Eden's Garden. I figure I should just leaves my thoughts on it here since I'm prolly not drawing the rest of the cast, lmao.

Spoilers below the cut!!

So. Pretty ballsy to kill off the two most loved and probably most plot important characters. I'm not mad about it though, it makes sense. Their talents were far too useful to be left alive that long.

I LOVED Eva though. Even if she was probably being fake friendly during her FTEs and during the actual game, I still loved her. From the little "bweh" she does and how her voice gives "Erm, akshually ☝️🤓" vibes, to her hatred of her Ultimate title and desperation to be recognized and loved.

In that desperation, though, she failed to see the people who WERE trying to understand and get closer to her. She dug her own grave by lying about her title, inciting people to distrust her. The explanation she gave Damon (why she lied about such a thing) being a farce is up for debate, but I like to believe she was telling the truth. Eva is a lot of things, but she is first and foremost a scared, lonely child.

Of course, she's not entirely innocent. Her ego is off the charts. If it weren't for her title as the Ultimate Mathlete, I think she'd probably become the Byakuya of the game lol.

Originally I didn't like her execution, but then I realized the whole fire thing is because of the phrase "Liar, liar, pants on fire". Very devious. Plus the whole "desperately running away from fated death" using an escalator and a fire pit is a very fitting punishment for someone who wants to run from their Ultimate title. Throwing math equipment at her was just salt in the wound lmao.

Overall, I'm satisfied with how Eva's story played out. She could've lived a better life, but that's what fanfics are for babyyy.

Uhhh okay less on Eva. Wolfgang and Grace?? Never saw that coming. They're pretty cute though! I saw their room and jokingly said "Oooo getting freaky, are we?", so I was shocked to find that they were indeed, getting freaky. Still adorable!

SPRAKING OF ADORABLE!! Kai and Damon. Kaimon. They were literally roommates. I didn't get it at first when it was only the prologue, but I have seen the light. RIP to all the Wolfgang x Damon and Eva x Damon shippers though, lmao.

I feel like we have a new opportunity for a tragic yuri ship with Diana and Eva, though. They weren't together a lot, but I feel like in a different universe, Diana could've been the one to reach out to Eva and give her a friend. *points at Eva* Lesbianism could save her.

Ough okay that's all the thoughts I have rn. Maybe I'll come up with more later, when I'm more awake to verbalize stuff. For now I crawl back into my hole and read ao3.

[officialdaydreamer00]

House fire

ROLLO FLAMME — in which one can predict a student exchange program might go south real quick

COLLAB WORK with @unfictinalnightmare for [The chimes of comfort]

CONTENT — takes place after glorious masquerade, our yuusonas (hillary and irene) are yuu, silly shenanigans with hillary and irene, rollo will show up soon :)

TAGGINGS — @cloudcountry @identity-theft-101 @xen-blank @esmerulia-chantelle @dove-da-birb @cookiesandbiscuits @vioisgoinginsane @siren-serenity @loser-jpg @axvwriter @aqua-beam @edith-is-a-cat @minimallyminnie @thehollowwriter @taruruchi @cyanide-latte @ferris-thewheel + others :3

Do reblog or comment if you enjoy my work! ^-^

Chapter 1: An undeniable request || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5

"WHAT?!"

"As I have just said, I want the two of you to act as our representatives when Mr. Flamme arrive to Night Raven College in the next student exchange."

The headmage offered the two girls in front of them a smile. Black and white, blood red and sea green, both were staring at their 'beloved' headmage with a look of utter disdain.

"Wait, pause- Who the hell is Flamme?" Hillary gave the girl next to her a confused glance before averting her eyes back to the headmage. Irene only sighed, taking off her round glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Rollo Flamme, Noble Bell's rep and School Council President, he was our guide in Fleur City."

Irene was still haunted by that incident in Fleur City. She thought it was a rare occasion to relax after weeks and months of doing errands for the damn crow, but no. Seven knew he was plotting such a devious scheme.

"Indeed, ahem... Since the student body were rather, well, hesitant when speaking about him, so I believe you two are the best option as his guide in the upcoming exchange program." Crowley said joyfully. "Oh, and by the way, Mr Flamme shall stay at Ramshackle Dorm in the short duration of the program, I truly hope the two of you can do your best to accommodate him."

The headmage went on and on with his monologue, ignoring every signs of refusals from Hillary and Irene.

With Irene and her unforgettable experience in Noble Bell College, she was rather afraid of Rollo still. Who knows what could happen during the entire program when he faced NRC's students, especially her upperclassman Malleus. It would be one hell of a meeting, and like hell she wanted to be the one cleaning it up for the nth time.

With Hillary, who wasn't on the list of students on that trip to Fleur City, her impression about Rollo was practically zero. And it wasn't like she could ask Irene or the others since they wouldn't peep a single word. Though perhaps that was enough signs to guess this Flamme guy was anything but a saint.

———————————————————

"I refuse."

Hillary immediately shook her head, cutting off Crowley's ramblings as he squawked in surprise. Not like he could force her to do his biddings anyways.

"I also refuse."

Irene followed her lead and answered as well, seeing how Hillary gave both of them a way out. It wouldn't hurt to work with that troublesome girl if it meant one less baggage on her shoulders.

"Oh no... Why must you two treat me, the kindest and most beloved headmage, that way? What a hurtful thing to hear from the Prefects themselves..."

Hillary and Irene could only watched in exasperation as the headmage blabbed on about his so-called kindness and hard work. However, the headmage was never an easy person to deal with, he gave them an unreadable smile.

"Nevertheless, as a careful teacher I am, I have come prepared! So I am counting on you two, Trein-sensei, Crewel-sensei."

———————————————————

Only after one long session of persuation from two most respected professors on campus, using various tricks and techniques, did Hillary and Irene agree to it, albeit reluctantly. Though it was a golden opportunity for them to upgrade Ramshackle dorm even more. They couldn't let that infuriating headmage win that easily.

"Fine. I promise to lend you some ingredients for your magic research." Crewel shook his head and sighed, looking at Irene with a tired stare.

The little dark pup excelled at everything and destroy every challenges thrown her way, which he was proud of as a Professor. Only that she was so damn stubborn and had a penchant for dark magic.

"Thank you, sir!" Irene smiled as she happily accepted the deal, thinking about all the things she could get from the Potions professor's laboratory.

However, if Irene was already headstrong, Hillary was completely, utterly a hardhead. Trein and Crowley even had to use the library key and give her free reign to it for her to agree.

And so the preparation the student exchange program began...

[dalekofchaos]

Round 1

Context

Choice 1

Balon is crushed by the fallen tower instead of his sons. This ends the war and Alannys Harlaw becomes The Iron Queen to preserve the peace. Alannys keeps her sons in check until the time is right. Theon still becomes a ward to hold Alannys in check. When Theon comes home, that's when Alannys and her sons work to avenge Balon and take the Seven Kingdoms with the Iron price.

Choice 3

Asha being raised with the Starks leads to Asha keeping her Ironborn nature, raised to fight and eventual betrothal to Robb. She talks Theon into helping her secure the Ironborn to Robb's cause aka Theon sending a Ironborn like Karl The Maid to kill Balon and Theon using his silver tongue through the Kingsmoot.

Choice 4.

Dany staying in Pentos either ends with Dany accepting Quentyn's proposal or regrouping with Young Griff.

Choice 7

Joanna, Rhaella and Lyanna live to raise their kids.

Joanna.

I have not seen anything in reading ASOIAF or the companion book AWOIAF (which mentions Joanna) that would indicate Joanna was somehow cold or cruel and would mistreat Tyrion. (If I am mistaken I do welcome any text references showing that).

There are references that Joanna was Tywin’s most trusted companion and counselor, but I see nothing that indicates that translates to cruelty or lack of maternal devotion.

It is stated that she is the only person who was able to make Tywin laugh, which indicates she likely did have a great deal of warmth and kindness.

Reputation and status was important to the Lannisters, both Tywin and Joanna. Given the option, I’m sure they both would rather Tyrion not be a dwarf. She may even have felt a certain amount of shame at his appearance, and favored Jaime and Cersei.

However, it could go the other way too. She could have seen how the world treated a dwarf, and shown him more attention than Jaime out of a desire to compensate for the discrimination and judgement he received.

The point is. We don’t know for certain.

I expect she would have treated him better than Tywin did. However, I also expect Tywin would have treated him better, had Joanna lived.

There’s the obvious fact that if Joanna had lived, Tyrion wouldn’t have had that “you killed your mother” thing hanging over his head. It goes beyond that though.

You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father’s sigil and his father’s before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse. Tyrion, ACoK

A cruel statement from Tywin, but the thing of it is, it’s true.

Tyrion, as always, takes away from this only that his father hates him for being “ill-made” (a dwarf) and for being responsible for his mother’s death. He actively disregards the other perfectly reasonable criticisms that Tywin lays forth.

We love Tyrion. I love Tyrion! But he is (in particular in the books) as Tywin states, devious, disobedient, spiteful and full of envy, lust and low cunning.

When Tywin says this, he has just found out that Tyrion has, against Tywin’s direct orders, been visiting the whorehouse (visiting Shae, though in the books they think it is a different prostitute, Alayaya).

Tywin is actually referring to a very real issue he has with Tyrion, which is his habit of getting drunk and frequenting prostitutes. The Lannister reputation and image is of paramount importance to Tywin. Tyrion is constantly embarrassing the family not with his dwarfism (as Tyrion believes), but with his behavior.

If Joanna had lived, Tyrion may have felt more loved, had a better relationship with women, and not taken to drinking and whoring. That would have greatly improved things with his father.

Cersei would also not have treated Tyrion so badly if Joanna had lived. Likely she would have treated him more along the lines of mild judgement and contempt because of his dwarfism, but she wouldn’t feel the hatred she did from believing Tyrion killed their mother.

So, yes, I believe Joanna would have treated Tyrion better. However, I also believe Tywin would have treated him better as well.

Lyanna.

So this is complicated.

Lyanna lives and becomes miserable as Queen while Jon(Daeron) lives with The Starks. However one day, she gets an offer she couldn't refuse. Littlefinger offers a deal. He could arrange for Robert's death, while allowing her freedom and even allow Jon Snow to be legitimized, all he asks is for the Vale and Harrenhal. However... It would not be a poisoning or a boar to gore him. Littlefinger arranges events so that Robert is in a drunken rage and gets physical with Lyanna right in front of Jaime Lannister. Causing the second Kingslaying and triggering the War of the Five Kings.

The Kingsguard and Lyanna take Daeron III and go to Essos and one day return with the Prince who was Promised to save the realm.

Lyanna reveals the truth and Robert either annulls the marriage or has her and Jon killed

Rhaella

Viserys doesn't become the Beggar King and Dany has a happy childhood with her family. Rhaella provides a happy childhood for her kids in Bravoos, while also plotting with Doran Martell, Olenna Redwyne, Varys and Illyrio.

They raise an army of sellswords and easily steals the Golden Company from Joncon and Aegon. Viserys is betrothed to Arianne Martell and Dany is betrothed to Willas Tyrell.

The Targaryens return with Fire & Blood

Choice 11.

It is said that Domeric was quiet, read history, played the harp, and was an excellent horseman. I do kind of think in a scenario where Domeric lived, he could've either talked Ramsay into seeing him as a true brother would earn father's trust to legitimize him, Domeric gains control over Ramsay and sends Ramsay to do House Bolton's dirty work or Domeric is smart enough to understand how this ends and kills him before he's poisoned.

Another scenario. Ned might arrange a betrothal between him and Sansa to keep one of his more premier bannermen in line. Seeing as how he was reported to be chivalric and knightly, that will probably work out well for him and keep Roose in line. Will also probably lead to Roose getting rid of Ramsay, who is now a loose end to be disposed with.

If Domeric stays in the North when Robb marches South, then Ramsay doesn’t rape Donella Hornwood, isn’t captured by Rodrik Cassel and isn’t brought to Winterfell. He isn’t here to counsel Theon to murder the two miller’s boys, and I doubt Theon is smart enough to think of this ploy by himself (but that’s a big if here, because if Theon does murder them and pass them for the Stark boys, the story continues as it did in the books). So he doesn’t murder children, and the news of Bran’s and Rickon’s deaths doesn’t exist. Catelyn doesn’t free Jaime Lannister, Robb Stark doesn’t sleep with Jeyne Westerling and doesn’t break his promise to marry the Frey girl. Rickard Karstark doesn’t murder the Lannister hostages and Robb doesn’t execute Rickard Karstark. Roose doesn’t believe for certain that Robb Stark’s cause is lost, so he doesn’t abandon him, and orders Domeric to take back Winterfell (and that is easily done). The Red Wedding doesn’t happen. Arya probably reveals her identity to Roose at Harrenhal and is reunited with Catelyn and Robb. Bran and Rickon are safe at Winterfell, and Bran’s trip North of the Wall may be delayed. 

If Domeric marches South with Robb ... It depends on Ramsay’s behaviour. I do think he would be unable to marry/rape Donella Hornwood, so the same scenario as above happens.

So, a lot of things would be different. 

Choice 12

The Brotherhood without Banners finds Robb's body instead of Cat.

Beric gives his life for Robb. The resurrection goes horribly wrong and it's Robb and Grey Wind's mind and fury spliced together.

Robb comes back as a blunt instrument of The Old Gods Justice. the Old Gods wishing for justice, to seek his own revenge.

Just imagine. "The North Remembers" Those loyal to Robb flock to news of their very dead king and when they see him, they bend the knee. "KING IN THE NORTH"

And it's not just Northerners loyal to Robb. His howl commands a legion of Wolves and Direwolves who flock to him, hence being called The Wolf King.

They capture and kill those loyal to the Lannisters, Freys and most importantly the Boltons.

Roose will die a most agonizing death. The Bastard of Bolton will die worse than those he has flayed and will pay for Winterfell. Walder Frey and all his kin will die for their treachery. Theon's death will make the Drowned God Theon and his family oh so worships seem like The Maiden and even that is far too merciful for what Theon did to Bran and Rickon. And Jaime….."Robb Stark sends his regards"

One by one, The Starks will regain the North and those that dare defend the oathbreakers and traitors will all die and those that caused the deaths of Ned, Lady Catelyn, Bran & RIckon will all die.

"The North Remembers"

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Jackie Taylor

pre-crash headcanons

nsfw mention

girl would make you drive her everywhere. you'd be like "doesn't shauna have a car?" and she'd pout and be like "it's not the sameeee". 

she likes to tease you so much. changes the radio station and is like "oh were you listening to that?". knocks your pen off the table and is like "you're so clumsy, baby". plays footsy with you under the table if she's sitting across from you or runs her fingers up your legs if you're sitting next to her. 

so so clingy. she'll get jealous of inanimate objects for holding your attention. picks the book your reading out of your hand and climb into your lap to cuddle instead. "it's like you don't even careeee" she'll whine. (she puts your bookmark in. don't worry, she's not an animal). you definitely won't get to read it for a while, though. 

she'd want to call you/want to be called the most ridiculous fucking nicknames man. she'd slip up in front of the team and you would be stuck getting called pooh bear for weeks before they let it go

Jackie def the type to be like "oh i don't want any fries" and you'd look away and she'd have eaten all of yours. she'd finish her Starbucks drink before yall even left the parking lot.

i feel like she would love getting gifts. she'd get so happy when you'd show up to pick her up with a coffee or like a snack or something. i think she'd love like mixtapes and stuff that show that you're thinking of her a lot. 

trying to include Shauna in hangouts because you're tired of being on the receiving end of her glares when you get too close to Jackie. 

"no I'm telling you she's plotting my death in her cunty little notebook". Jackie giggles and shakes her head. (Shauna's got a 7 step plan already) 

Jackie making a pep talk for the team and looking at you for support. "Yeah guys! go team!" you say unenthusiastically. Jackie rolls her eyes. 

laying on Jackie's bed with her head in your lap and playing with her hair. trying not to fall asleep as she drones on about strategy for the upcoming game. "are you still listening?" "yeah, totally. " 

finding her at her locker between classes to exchange some seriously hot gossip you heard in your science class. you don't really give a shit but you listen because you know she likes it. Jackie grinning and then running off to tell Shauna (who also doesn't care. poor Jackie.)

taking care of Jackie after she gets absolutely wasted after like one drink at a party. i feel like she's such a lightweight for some reason. running your fingers through her hair as she throws up later. having to leave early to take her home. (you usually got stuck being the DD) 

girl is such a little spoon. she loves laying in your arms. it makes her feel so warm and safe. 

Jackie is so small. i love the idea of putting her things on high shelves and making her pay the tax (kissing you) to get her things back. she'll pout so pretty but you valiantly remain strong. 

i feel like Jackie's such a pillow princess tbh. girly wouldn't lift a finger in the wilderness just like she wouldn't lift a finger to get you off. 

taking her side in arguments with the team and being like "girl wtf" afterwards. she's got to stop calling Nat a slut. it's getting tired at this point. 

big big romcom enjoyer. she'd definitely have like 3 favorites and make you watch them over and over again. I'd be surprised if you couldn't quote them word for word at this point. 

would lose her shit watching a horror movie. would definitely try to kiss you to distract you into turning it off. devious. 

anniversary dates would be extremely important to her. she'd bring it up for months if you forgot one. "happy seven months baby 🥰 🥰"

it doesn't come out til '99 but I desperately need to see Jackie's reaction to But I'm a Cheerleader. "it's easy to be a prude when you're not attracted to him". Jackie found dead

listens to music for vibes and not necessarily the lyrics.