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alwaysonthemend · 11 months

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A Lazy Night | JTK

Author’s Note: Request from bestie @iheartjakekiszka for a fluffy Jake fic. I made myself Very Sad with this one because soft Jakey makes me want to sob bc I can’t have him. Alas… Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Unbeta’d so apologies for any mistakes. Now please excuse me while I go drink wine and think soft Jake thoughts.

Summary: Jake and the band have been working non stop on their new album. But, with a long weekend on the horizon, you decide to give Jake a night of relaxation and rest. Lord knows he needs it.

Content Warnings: Literally none. Just fluff.

Word Count: 1968

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Meeting Jake Kiszka has been the best thing that ever happened to you. From the very first time you met him, you had immediately known that he was the one. There was something about him that drew you in, and there was no going back.

Because of this, you couldn't help but to divide your life into two halves. There was Before Meeting Jake and After Meeting Jake. The before had been okay. You had a successful job – however boring it was, and you were happy. You’d had a handful of relationships – though few of them ever lasted long. But life was good. Boring, but good. And then Jake waltzed into your life. And only after did you ever realize how empty the before had been. Jake was your light, and you couldn’t fathom how you had ever managed without him in your life. He made falling in love easy. Jake had entered your heart quickly and made a home there.

The only downside to being in a relationship with Jake was the distance. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and you couldn’t agree more. While you're proud of Jake and the fame that he and Greta Van Fleet had acquired, you can’t help but miss him when he’s on tour and desperately wish that he would come home. But his time away only makes the times that he is home that much more special.

Unfortunately, despite Jake not currently being on tour, it still felt like he was never home. The boys were busy putting together their new album, and so Jake was either at the studio with them or running around doing interviews and photoshoots. You got to see him at night, of course. But often, despite his tiredness, he would stay up much later than you to go work on his ideas for new songs. You had work in the morning and so – no matter how much you wanted to, you could rarely stay up late enough to fall asleep with him.

Tonight was probably going to be one of those nights. It’s already 10 PM and Jake was only just walking through the door of your house, guitar case in hand and eyes excited but tired.

“Hey, Jake.” You say, rising from your place on the couch to go and greet him. He places his guitar case on the ground and wraps his arms around you, squeezing tight.

“Hey, babe. I missed you.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing his nose unto your skin, eyes closed. You breathe in his scent, immediately taking comfort in the smell of vanilla and something else that you couldn't define as anything other than just “Jake.”

“I missed you, too. You look tired.” You pull away from him, noting the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

“I am. But it was a good day. We got a lot done, so me and the guys decided that we’d take the rest of the week off.”

“Really? That’s awesome! And I’m off tomorrow anyways so we can have a whole three days to ourselves!” You exclaim, practically beaming with excitement. Jake gives you a soft smile, touched by your desire to spend time with him.

“Thank God.” He says, walking over to the couch and collapsing into it. “I feel exhausted. I love working on music and we’re having a lot of fun. But holy shit…” He leans his head back on the back of the couch and closes his eyes. “I feel like I could sleep for ten years.”

“You probably need to.” You tell him, walking over to the kitchen. “Did you eat already? I can fix you something if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, I’m okay. I’m too tired to eat.”

You tsk as you grab two wine glasses from the cabinet and grab a bottle of red wine from the counter. You pour yourself and Jake a generous amount.

“That’s not very healthy, Jakey.” You say, walking back into the living room.

“And wine is a better alternative?” He chuckles, taking the glass that you offer him to take a sip.

“Better than nothing, I suppose.” You take a seat next to him, happy to just share the space with him. “So, tell me about the album? How’s it going?”

He grins, his eyes lighting up. No matter how tired he is, he’s always excited to talk about music.

“It’s great! I think we’re really making something special. It’s a little different from what we’ve done before, but I think the fans will like it.” He takes a thoughtful sip. “I think… It's just different enough that it’s fresh and exciting. But similar enough to Garden’s Gate that the fans will still like it. We’re trying to toe the line as much as we can – keep what’s worked in the past without getting repetitive, ya know?”

You smile at his passion. Seeing the man you love get to do something he enjoys so much, with thousands of fans who adore him as much as you do – it’s an amazing feeling.

“Whatever you guys do, I know it’s going to be amazing. You all are so talented. The fans will love it no matter what.”

He finishes his glass of wine and places it on the coffee table.

“Thank you, y/n.” He leans back onto the sofa and a grimace flickers across his face. It’s so fast you probably would have missed it had you not been studying his face so closely.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, babe,” He says, giving you a crooked grin. “My back is just a little sore. Spending a lot of time crouched over a guitar.” He laughs, but you recognize the tightness around his eyes to be pain, not just tiredness. You place your own glass on the table next to his and stand up, offering him your hand.

“Come on.”

“Where to?” He asks, already standing and taking your hand.

“You’re gonna lay down and I’m going to give you a massage.”

His eyes fill with a mischievous sparkle.

“Not that kind of massage, Jake.” You scold, leading him up the stairs to your bedroom. “An actual message that will hopefully help your back.”

“Fine.” He sighs, smiling at you as you drag him to the bed.

“Take your shirt off and then lay down on your stomach. I’m going to make it a little more comfortable in here..”

“Yes ma’am.” Jake takes off his shoes and shirt and watches you as you move around, lighting the candles that you have scattered across the room. Jake sinks into the bed just as you turn off the overhead light, the only light now coming from the soft glow of the candles.

“Y/n?” Jake asks as you walk into the bathroom to grab some lotion.

“Yeah, babe?”

You walk back into the bedroom to see Jake laying on his back, eyes soft as he looks at you.

“I should have eaten dinner like you said because I think that wine went straight to my head.”

He giggles, and you notice the flush that’s overtaken his cheeks and chest. You just laugh and shake your head, taking a moment to admire him in the candle light. His hair is pulled back in a loose bun, with little wisps falling out and framing his face. It looks so soft and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Your eyes move downwards, again noting the flush on his chest before your eyes find his soft stomach – no doubt your most favorite thing about him. If he wasn’t so tired and the mood was a little different you’d take the opportunity to bite him. Instead, you walk softly over to the side of the bed and nudge his shoulder.

“Roll over on your stomach, baby. Just relax.”

He complies, and you climb up onto the bed. You nudge his legs apart and you gently sink down and straddle his waist.. You squirt some lotion onto your hands and warm it up between your palms before splaying your hands out on his shoulder blades. Immediately, Jake lets out a sigh of relief and you can feel him relax further into the bed. You begin to message him, and you can clearly feel the knots in his upper back and shoulders.

“Jesus, Jake. No wonder your back hurts.” You say, working your hands down his shoulders and kneading your fingerstips into his biceps. “You’re so tight back here.”

“I know.” He mumbles, voice muffled by the pillows. “It’s been hurting for a while but…” He trails off and sighs as you find a particularly tense knot in his back.

“You should have said something and I could have helped you sooner, babe.” You say, sliding your hands down farther to his lower back.

“Didn’t wanna bother you.” He says quietly.

“Jake…” You say, reaching out to turn his head towards you. His chocolate eyes are glassy with sleep and wine. “That’s what I’m here for. I want to help you.”

He gives you a lazy smile.

“I know. But I still feel bad.”

“Don’t ever feel bad. I love you. And I love helping you in any way I can.”

He huffs a laugh and lowers his face back down into the pillow.

“I love you too, y/n. So much.”

You continue your massage on his back, slowly but surely working out the knots and tension. You relish in the feeling of his skin underneath your hands. He’s warm and his scent is so comforting. You feel more at ease than you have in months. Eventually, you hear his soft snores and you rise carefully from his back. You pull the covers over him and take a moment to watch him. The tightness around his eyes is gone, replaced with a softness that you hadn’t seen in a while. His mouth is slightly parted, and his lips look so soft. It’s moments like this that make all of the absence worth it. One moment with Jake like this is worth all the hours of missing him. You’re overcome with a feeling of complete unworthiness. You can’t believe a man like this has fallen in love with you. Of all the people in the world, it’s you that he allows himself to be this vulnerable around. You feel like if you think about it too long you might cry so you shake your head and begin to quietly walk around your bedroom to blow out all the candles. Jake doesn’t stir as you walk to the bathroom to put the lotion away. You walk as quietly as possible back to the bed and crawl in next to him, pressing your back to him and closing your eyes.

‘Mmmm.” He mumbles, cracking his eyes open. “y/n?”

“Go back to sleep, Jakey.” You whisper.

He mumbles something unintelligible before rolling onto his side to face you and slinging his arm around your waist. He pulls you tight against his chest and presses his face into your hair, breathing in deeply.

“Don’t deserve you.” He whispers.

“You deserve the world, rockstar.” You’re met with nothing but his soft snores.

You smile and close your eyes.

#greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fanfiction #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka #jake gvf #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka fluff

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rhettabbotts · 1 year

Note

Congrats on 1200 followers! Sending you Rooster and "no on can ever find out about this" as prompts!

stolen stares - bradley bradshaw

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x pilot!reader (callsign: clover)

summary: what started as a drunken one night stand turns into months of sneaking around.

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only. SMUT. drinking. secret relationship. friends to lovers. slight dom!bradley. fingering. p in v. some fluff. getting caught making out.

Your head pounded as the bright sunshine peeked through the blinds in your room. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so, and you tried to kick the covers off and slip out of the bed but something - no, someone - had a tight hold around your waist.

You started to panic as you tried to wiggle away until you felt a soft kiss pressed to your bare shoulder and the tickle of a mustache. Craning your neck slightly, you saw a barely awake Bradley laying behind you. The beams of sunlight bounced off his golden skin, his hair tousled and curls prominent. He had a lazy smirk, one that said ‘this is real, this happened.’

“Hi,” he said quietly. One simple word and your whole body was ablaze. His gravelly voice was laced with sleep. Flashes of the night before flooded your mind as you gazed around the room and saw the trail of clothes leading from the door to the bed you’re laying in.

Tequila shots. Licking the salt off Bradley’s hand for a dare. Bradley playing the piano. Bradley pulling you into his lap. Dragging Bradley back to your room. Ripping the buttons off Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt. Kissing. Moaning. More kissing.

It hit you like a freight train. The image of Bradley leaning over you and whispering your name before he slid inside you.

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

You sighed as you felt real Bradley start tracing lines across your lower stomach, soft touches that made your back arch and your ass press against his hard cock.

“Rooster,” you sighed as he started sucking a mark into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“So it wasn’t a dream,” he mumbled into your skin, pulling you ever so tighter to him. His strong forearm flexed and his fingers danced lower until they brushed against your already dripping cunt.

“Roo- Bradley, please,” you whimpered. His index finger drew lazy circles around your clit, dipping down to collect your desire and back again.

“So wet for me, sweet girl.”

Bradley slid his finger inside, thrusting slowly before inserting another. The angle was a little awkward and you could feel his cock leaking against your lower back. It didn’t take much for him to draw your orgasm out of you. A desperate plea of his name and you were clenching around his fingers.

You slumped into his chest as you laid there breathless. Your heart pounded in your ears and you whined a pathetic sound when Bradley removed his fingers and trailed your wetness across your hip.

Silence followed as Bradley excused himself to the bathroom and you finally checked your phone. Messages from Phoenix were pouring in.

Where did you go? Did you leave? Did you see Rooster leave? Oh my god are you with Rooster? ANSWER ME!

You didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know what to say so you turned your phone off, avoiding the situation altogether. Bradley emerged from the bathroom, now dressed in tight black boxers. His hair was still a mess and his chest was slightly flushed but he still had that lazy smirk on his face.

He crawled back into bed and propped his head against the palm of his hand, looking down at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“So…”

“Bradley- this- I don’t know what this is, but-“

“I don’t want it to be a one time thing. But if that’s what you want, I can- I can live with that,” he said shyly.

“I don’t want it to be a one time thing, either,” you whispered, running your finger along his cheekbone. He was leaning in for a kiss when his phone started ringing. He groaned loudly before rolling over. It was Maverick.

Bradley paced around the room talking to Mav while you got dressed. You were nervous, feeling like you had been caught but Bradley didn’t say a word. He hung up and sat down beside you on the edge of the bed.

“I gotta go help Mav with something. Can we- would you want to- can I take you out tonight?”

You smiled as he stuttered over his words. Grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles, you nodded.

“I’d like that.”

————————————————————————

Dinner was nice but you were antsy. You wanted to be alone with Bradley again. You couldn’t keep your hands off him as you entered your room. There was a certain thrill to sneaking around, knowing you were the only two that knew about this.

Bradley bent you over on your hand and knees, tearing the foil condom wrapper with his teeth before sliding it on himself. His hands roamed over your back, groping your ass before landing a light slap to it. He thrusted two fingers inside you without preamble, wasting no time in getting you ready for him.

“Dripping all over my fingers, Clover. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” His voice was rough like the pace of his digits. He slid them out and slid his hard cock inside you to the hilt. You moaned into the pillow, biting the material as you adjusted to his size.

His thrusts started slow but soon picked up, his hips snapping against you. The only sounds that filled the room were your breathy moans and Bradley’s grunts and skin slapping against skin. His hands wrapped around your front to grope at your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Right there. Oh god Brad- keep- oh-“

Your voice was nearly unrecognizable to your own ears as Bradley pounded into you. It was desperate and needy and everything you ever wanted. If someone had told you months ago that you would be here with your best friend, you would probably laugh.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock. I know you’re close. I’m right behind you,” he mumbled in your ear. A few swipes of his thumb over your clit and you were there. His hips stuttered as he came. He flopped on top of you, body weight causing a nice pressure.

Bradley cleaned you and himself up before curling up beside you and pulling you close to him.

“Roo- can we- no one can ever find out about this. We could- this could be a real problem if anyone knows.”

“I know… I know. We can keep it a secret.”

You could hear a twinge of sadness in his voice but he knew you were right. It would cause a lot of issues if anyone found out.

So you kept it a secret. Stolen glances during class, quick make out sessions in the hallway in between training exercises, late nights in each other's rooms before sneaking out early in the morning.

Phoenix knew something was going on. She could see it written all over your face but she couldn’t quite figure it out. Everyone knew something was different between your and Rooster’s dynamic. When you were once talking to each other, you avoided each other at all costs now. Natasha thought maybe you were fighting but she saw the way you would get flustered when he walked into the room.

She cornered you one day in the locker room and started bombarding you with questions once again.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on between you and Rooster?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, avoiding eye contact and shoving your clothes into your bag.

“You’re hiding something. Did he do something? What happened?”

“Nothing! Look, it’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She placed her hand in yours and squeezed.

“I know, Nat. Thank you.”

It was so hard keeping it from her and the others but you knew it was for the best, until you and Bradley figured things out.

———————————————————————

Your secret continued for a few months. But it was exhausting trying to hide it, trying to find time together but also not trying to seem too suspicious.

One night at the Hard Deck changed everything. You were all drinking, Bradley was sitting across from you at the booth and he was giving you those eyes. The ones that shouted trouble. And you loved it. He tilted his head toward the back where the restrooms were and you grinned.

You excused yourself while Bradley waited, knowing he was watching every sway of your hips. It was about five minutes before he came knocking on the bathroom door and you felt giddy.

“You picked this dress out just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?” He said as he pushed his way inside before backing you against the wooden frame.

His hands were everywhere, grabbing at your hips and your ass, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your own hands found purchase in his hair, tugging until a soft groan escaped his throat.

“God, Rooster,” You whined before his lips came crashing down against yours. Your tongues battled for dominance for some time before you heard - more so felt - pounding at the door.

“Clover, you okay?” Natasha’s voice bellowed. You snapped your eyes to Bradley’s and you were sure his expression matched your own - sheer panic. There was nowhere for him to go.

“What do we do?!” You whispered harshly.

“I don’t know!”

“You know I can hear you guys,” Phoenix deadpanned. You stood in shock for a few seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter.

You opened the door to Phoenix standing on the opposite wall with her arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered on her face. You couldn’t imagine the state you were in. Dress wrinkled and lips swollen red. Bradley had some lipstick smudged on his chin and he smiled sheepishly at his best friend.

“Hangman owes me fifty bucks,” was all she said before turning on her heel to head back to where the rest of the squad was seated.

You threw your head back laughing and turned to wrap your arms around Bradley’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss - this time, not caring who saw.

You would figure it out later. But for now, you are going to kiss your man in your favorite bar and walk back to your table hand in hand and enjoy drinks with your friends.

#shelby’s sleepover #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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faintedlcve · 5 months

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Hellllooo,

Omg I really needed more swiftie mutuals <3

Please rant about all things you like, i love rants, gosh we seem to have so many close interests, I am not a writer tho, but I do read, effectively making me a reader which doesn't sound as cool, now that I think about it.

My fav Taylor song at the moment is "Slut!". I cannot get that out of my head. I mean "got lovesick all over my bed", I die a little everytime I hear that.

Fav Olivia song at the moment is logical (kinda like you username aah). I still CANNOT get over "can't take a joke, can't get you off". Like please kill me already.

Fav Sabrina song at the moment is probably "because i liked a boy". (damn who hurt me?)

And fav conan song at the moment, "Lookalike"

Tell me yours?

Nyc.

hiiii

omg thank you thank you thank youuuu <33

okay so i love a lot of things some of them are pretty questionable but I'm questionable literally ask anyone on the discord server so its fine. anywhoo, i love taylor, maisie, gracie, phoebe, alix page, lucy (dacus not myself I'm not THAT narcissistic), olivia hardy (from wasia project) julien, conan, liv, sab (and @loserdiaz but that's a known fact) and so many other people to the point that even i cant keep track. oh and i love laufey, mitski and lyn lapid just bc.

my current fav by wasia project is petals on the moon but ur so pretty especially live from the studio is so gooddd

anywayss, reading is really cool thats how i got into writing (which is the best thing ever ik /hj) i also really really like reading bc it makes me smart and it's super fun

which is your favourite book series?? mine is lockwood and co as if you couldn't already tell by the amount of times I've mentioned it i also really love agggtm series bc why wouldn't it its so good. I'm sure i love so many more book series but my memory sucks (it does not but I'm lazy so I'll use that as an excuse)

anywhooo, i love scream which is weird bc i watched the first one when i was 10 (i know, who let me do that???) and i... liked it? (I'm very questionable i know) but i also tend to rant about it as if its real life (like WHY DID THEY KILL OF *insert name of dead character* IM SO MAD) and not a movie so I'm a bit annoying sometimes but pls don't tell me that otherwise I'll start crying /j

hmm my favourite taylor song atm would be "is it over now?" or "now that we don't talk" bc at the moment i resonate so well with those songs (ikr my life sounds like a nightmare: it is but it isn't really? idk) at yes i totally agree with the "got lovesick all over my bed statement but" also "love thorns all over this rose" and omg "you're not saying you're in love with me, BUT !! YOURE !! GONNA !! DO !!" like who gave taylor the right to be such a mastermind (funny, right? no? okay.) like the entire song, heck the entire album is so GOOD. HER ENTIRE DISCOGRAPHY IS SO GOOD. (this is totally normal fan behaviour btw)

favourite liv song atm is probably lacy but i love all of the songs all the album (and yes logical is soooo good i mean i have to love it otherwise my url is meaningless) but my favourite lyric from the entire album is probably "we both drew blood but man THOSE CUTS were NEVER EQUAL!!" from the grudge (also one of my top 3) bc that hits DEEP. (bc the cuts were deep, i know I'm so funny /j)

favourite sab song atm is prolly cindy lou who / opposite (been there) / a nonsense christmas. i cheated but i simply cant choose one shes too good. also super funny bc cindy lou who and opposite are like sad vibes and then a nonsense christmas i want you to [redacted] and [redacted] me on the couch while we [redacted] presents (sorry i just think I'm so funny when I'm not but dont tell me that i wanna be a stand up comedian no I'm just kidding I'm not a failure. IM JOKING) (also regarding bc i liked a boy, I agree. who hurt you???)

anyways, my favourite conan song atm is prolly the best known option "heather" BUT i also like "the cut that always bleeds" the entire of kid krow tbh

okay i wrote a lot asdxcasdcvafd sorry

alsooo, you didnt ask this but my favourite gracie abrams song atm is "where do we go now?" and "cedar" (you arent mine) bc its such a heartbreaking song especially when you can relate to it. ooh and i also love camden, painkillers, rockland and long sleeves but they're all pretty depressing so if you don't like sad songs they're prolly not for you.

and THANK YOU for this ask this was so fun send me more sometimes <333

#taylor swift #gracie abrams #maisie peters #olivia rodrigo #sabrina carpenter #conan gray #boygenius #phoebe bridgers #lucy dacus #julien baker #alix page #music #moots <3 #luce posts 💌

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ink-flavored · 6 months

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Kinktober2023 Day 13: Face-Sitting

banner art by @/auroblaze

Summer Lovin' contains: oral sex/cunnilingus, masturbation, cis/trans, angel/demon dysphoria warning: Pride is a trans man whose genitals are described with the following terms: cunt, folds, clit, hole. Please use discretion if these words will trigger any dysphoria. Kinktober2023 Prompt List & Neocities Page Tips are appreciated!

Pride was literally from Hell, and even he couldn’t take this heat wave. All the windows in the apartment were thrown open wide, oscillating fans spun in every room, and it still wasn’t enough. He resorted to wearing nothing but his trunks and a loose tank top, which still didn’t help. Even the normally modest Justice had stripped down to his boxers, heavy locs high up on his head in a messy bun, forgoing his usual neatness. The oppressive heat beat them down until they gave up and spent the day on the couch. Justice stretched out on his back and Pride draped over his sticky chest, unable to do anything but sweat and complain about it.

“I wish it wasn’t so hot,” he mumbled.

“I wish we learned what air conditioning was before we found this place,” Justice said.

“Yeah, well you picked it out so…” He gave up halfway though the accusation. “Ugh. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Wow. Not even picking a random fight. That’s how I know it’s hot out.”

Pride couldn’t retort to that either, groaning weakly instead. The fan in the center of the room blew a blissful puff of slightly cooler air over them, but it was gone too quickly to enjoy. It was hard to enjoy anything in this state. He was lying half-naked with Justice, and he couldn’t even revel in it.

Well… maybe he could try reveling in it.

He peeled his cheek off Justice and propped up on his chin. Justice looked kind of miserable, resting on the arm of the couch with his face screwed up with discomfort. Sweat beaded at his hairline, the occasional drop slipping down the side of his face. Pride reached out to trace his cheek, and his expression softened, lolling his head in the direction of his touch. He drew a circle around his lips, and Justice stretched his lips to kiss the end of his finger.

It was barely sexy, but Pride needed to think about anything else. He shuffled farther up to plant a real kiss on his mouth, slow and lazy. It carried a hint of salt from their endless sweating, but he didn’t care. Justice didn’t seem to mind either, rubbing his sticky back from under his shirt. Each pass he made pasted Pride’s body hair in a new direction, but it made him shiver anyway.

Justice pushed farther up his back, and it was the only excuse he needed to peel his shirt off. Pride dropped the damp garment onto the floor—Justice didn’t protest. Another sign of the times.—and resumed the kiss. When he opened his mouth, searching for deeper affection, Justice cupped the back of his head to help. They twisted their tongues in a lazy dance, too exhausted to push for anything heavier. It was a smooth, easy glide of lips, not concerned with anything but staying together.

Reveling in their closeness was much easier now. Pressed chest-to-chest, the blistering heat added to the mood, indistinguishable from unhurried lust. Pride sighed when their bodies brushed, skin slick with sweat. Gradually, he felt Justice’s cock poke his thigh, slowly hardening underneath him. He groaned a little, getting a new kind of damp between his legs.

“D’you wanna do something sexy?” Pride mumbled against his lips.

Justice hummed. “Maybe,” he said. “I kind of just want to lay here.”

“We can do both.”

He raised his eyebrows. Pride took the liberty of demonstrating.

First, he dragged himself up to his knees. He shuffled forward and nudged Justice off his perch, guiding him to lay his head on the cushion. By that point it was obvious, but Pride still went all the way, kneeling over his face and bracing himself on the arm of the couch.

“Best of both worlds,” Justice quipped, running his hands up his thighs.

“I’m glad we agree,” Pride said.

He wiggled his trunks off and dropped them on the floor with his shirt. No cool air rushed between his legs this time, every molecule baked in the ridiculous heat. But Pride was wet, and Justice gazed up at his cunt with leisurely want.

“Open,” Pride told him, and he did, tongue out and waiting.

Slowly, Pride lowered, using the couch to control his descent. Justice pushed through his slick folds as soon as he got close enough, warm tongue parting his cunt to lap his clit. Pride moaned breathily, pressing down on his mouth. Slick hands grabbed his waist, Justice licking him in wide stripes, and he went still to enjoy it.

The hot haze of the day had drained so much of his energy, Pride was more than happy to lean on his elbows and let Justice lick away. He met Pride's clit with slow caresses, taking his time. His tongue smoothed over his clit, up and down, drawing out his pleasure and his wetness. The occasional long, wet stripe up his cunt made him sigh.

Normally, Pride’s mouth would have been full of praise or teases, but he couldn’t muster up the brain power this time. His mind had melted into a thick sludge, thanks to the weather, and Justice’s tongue on his clit only sped up the process. His nerves tingled with static, the delightful sensations buzzed through his mind, but he could only moan or sigh about it.

Justice didn’t let it slow him down, not that he was moving very fast to begin with. He played with Pride’s clit as if he had all the time in the world, and meant to make use of it. Achingly slow brushes sent wave after wave of bliss through his body, and he didn’t stop there. When it started to feel too predictable, Justice slipped down and swirled his hole, teasing the very edges of his wet, loose cunt. Pride always moaned, always dug his nails into the couch, and always shuddered head to toe. And then Justice returned to working his clit, lapping him gently as if he never left.

Pride fought to keep his eyes open in the face of such exquisite pleasure. Without thinking, he rocked his hips, chasing the feeling. The hands on his waist squeezed, encouraging, so he kept going. With small rolls of his hips, Pride rubbed against Justice’s tongue as he licked. It brought intensity to his caresses, a little spike in a sea of softness.

“Mfhm,” Pride mumbled, barely able to speak. “Feels good…”

Justice muffled a small noise into his cunt, and squeezed his hips again. Pride leaned a little harder on the arm of the couch, rolling his hips harder. Justice moaned.

“You’re so good,” he continued, blabbing whatever came to mind. “Even when you’re—mmhn—all lazy, you still have t-to—fuck—h-have to eat your favorite food, hm?”

Justice sucked his clit softly, a clear response, and Pride moaned softly. He rocked with a bit more purpose, more intentionally grinding himself on his tongue now. Thrusting against such a hot, wet mouth was more than good—it was amazing, sending little lightning bolts up and down his spine. Pride almost drooled from the feeling, forgetting everything except how good it felt to fuck himself on Justice’s face.

The feeling distracted him so much, he almost didn’t notice the gentle slapping sound from behind him. One of the hands on his hips was long gone, and when he twisted around to investigate, he discovered why. Justice had pushed down his boxers, one hand slowly stroking his cock in time with Pride’s thrusts. Pre-cum leaked from his tip and spilled over his fingers.

“Oh, Justice,” he breathed, and lifted his hips off his face. A sloppy Justice protested, but could barely get a word out before Pride turned around and sat back down. “Next time, tell me so I can watch.”

Justice shuddered and eagerly started to eat him from the back. Pride rocked back against his tongue, using his torso for leverage, and watched him stroke himself at the same time. Every downstroke revealed more of his tip, hidden again when his hand went up, and Pride wished he had the energy to crawl over and suck it. The wet sound of his foreskin made him whimper. He ground back harder and harder, fucking himself on Justice and watching him jerk himself faster in tandem.

“You like how it tastes?” Pride asked. “S-so sweet that you can’t get enough, so you have to touch yourself.” He shuddered a sigh when Justice flicked his clit side to side. “So sweet, so good, J.”

Pride pushed back against his mouth and whined, freezing in place as Justice gave him as much as he could. He licked fast and intense, hand stuttering around his cock. All Pride could do was press back and accept it, take everything he had to offer and more. He moaned openly, exhaustion replaced with a desperate need.

“Yesyesyes,” he slurred. “More, more, don’t stop, I need it.”

Justice took it as a challenge. He sucked Pride’s clit hard enough to make him cry out, and flicked him faster than ever. Pride arched, toes curling, curling his fists against Justice. He had to close his eyes, intensity building and building up inside him.

“Close,” he warned. “’M close, so close, don’t stop.”

One last suck of his clit later, Pride came on Justice’s tongue. It shuddered through his body, flushing him with heat and ecstasy. His mushy brain was dribbling out his ears by the end of it, and possibly out of his cunt too.

“Ffmhmm,” Pride announced, before collapsing.

Justice grunted as he landed. He was still hard, cock half-forgotten in his hand while he worked to bring Pride to his end.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, poking it.

“I-I’m okay,” Justice panted.

Pride twisted around to make sure he wasn’t being polite. On the contrary, Justice appeared satisfied. Breathless, messy, covered in wetness, and a few hairs, but satisfied.

“Really,” he promised. “I just thought it would feel nice. And it did.”

As someone who loved orgasms, it took Pride a few seconds to accept this. “Hm. Okay.”

He flipped back over and cuddled against his chest again. Justice patted him awkwardly.

“Well, I do still need to clean my… everything.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #original writing #original smut #original fiction #original characters #queer characets #trans character #mlm #bi4bi #smut #queer nsft #trans nsft #annika talks #P&J #Pride & Justice

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goodeapple · 1 year

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i had all and then most of you / some and now none of you

HOOOO LORDY, hi everyone! please excuse the delay on this behemoth; your girl was sick as shit not once but TWICE this whole month and cold medicine doesn't help my writing. as always, be kind, rewind, and REVIEW if at all possible. I cry at every single one of your's comments, I really do (imma Pisces, go figure)

AN : I also realized that last chapter I mixed up Rhaena and Baela and who was raised as Rhaenys' ward andddd for that, I will be retiring. nah, I'm just kidding but I'll be leaving it there because I am dumb and stupid and need to be humbled. I also love how that part flows and I am lazy as shit to fix it rn so enjoy my mistake.

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : oral (F and M receiving), some anal, and a big ole dose of whipped!Aemond

word count : 9000+

masterlist

114 A.C

Aemond wrinkled his nose, the squirming babe bundled in maroon blankets screwing its red face up and giving a piercing screech. He hid his face into his mother’s skirts, shying away from the unhappy little dragon.

Alicent chuckled, smoothing a stiff hand over her son’s hair, the locks just barely beginning to edge passed his shoulders.

“It’s alright, my boy, she’s just hungry.”

Aemond’s nurse had tugged him away from practicing with his wooden sword in the courtyard to accompany his mother to meet his sister’s new babe. He had scuffed his shiny shoes the whole way, grumbling about the interruption of his daily schedule.

He seldom remembered ever being allowed in this part of the castle, his mother forever steering him in the opposite direction of his sister’s rooms.

The King sat across from his oldest child in an overstuffed chair, Rhaenyra’s hand grasped warmly in his, their speaking soft and muted. Helaena sat criss-cross on the bed at Rhaenyra’s feet, blonde curls dangling with her as she continuously swayed forward to steal peeks at her niece. Aegon’s hip rested against the bedside table, bright indigo eyes swirling between indifference and curiosity as he watched the newborn yawn and wiggle in her mother’s arms.

His father turned at the sound of Aemond’s entrance. A rare joyous smile brightened every one his aging features; the sight startled Aemond. He couldn’t recall in his young memories ever seeing his father aim such a loving look in his direction.

“Aemond, come here son.” His mother’s hands squeezed his upper arms so tightly that Aemond let a whimper slip from his lips, but after a moment she relented and urged him forward. Aemond took steps on uncertain legs, feeling the absence of his mother’s presence as she stayed fixed in place behind him.

His father’s free hand met his back when Aemond drew close enough, and guided him closer to the bed.

Rhaenyra’s sweaty face was blank as her littlest brother saddled next to her, face carefully unreadable. Even so, she angled her arm slightly towards him, the cocooned babe coming into his full view as her other hand still gripped her father’s.

“This is your niece, Aemond.” The King spoke faintly, adoration swimming in his voice.

Leaning up on his tiptoes, he braced his hands on the sheets and peered forward. Big, clear eyes blinked up at him, mouth pulling into a dainty “O” at the new face greeting her. The tiniest of nostrils flared, feet stretching under the layers of cloth. Aemond had never seen something so small before, the youngest himself of his siblings. Curiously, he reached forward and poked gently at the bulbous round cheek.

His father made a strange sound and Aemond felt a flash of worry that he did something wrong, but it eased as Rhaenyra laughed, a tired sound but still happy, as a tiny fist unclenched and lifted to curl around Aemond’s offending finger. A deceptively strong grip squeezed the tip and he shook it just so, but the babe remained locked on.

“I think she likes you.” Rhaenyra hummed, a modest grin making Aemond blush and smile unintentionally. He settled more firmly along the bed. Helaena leaned in and giggled at their niece, small fingers brushing away an errant dark curl.

“What is her name, sister?” Helaena whispered, almost afraid to break the sweet moment with her question.

Rhaenyra’s grin widened, eyes dropping down and looking upon her daughter with so much love that it threatened to spill out of the corners of her eyes.

“Her name is Ysilla.”

Aemond’s thumb brushed along the babe’s knuckles, a cooing sound escaping her, and Aemond could’ve sworn the babe smiled at her name.

“Ysillaaaaaa…” he whispered in wonder.

Current day. 14 days left.

Ysilla buries her nose into Visenya’s dusting of straw-colored hair, eyes closed and a serene look gracing her features. She breathes deep, an appreciative hum sounding from her throat.

“She smells so good, I can’t get over it.”

Her mother laughs, folding the blankets knitted tirelessly by Rhaena and Helaena in the moons leading up to her second daughter’s coming. A patchwork of harrowly stitched threads gifted from Joff also laid in the pile, and Rhaenyra pats it lovingly.

Visenya is only a few weeks old, not even reaching her first month yet, and Rhaenyra is sure the babe has barely known the cushions of her cradle as she’s been continuously passed from wetnurse to uncle to father to mother. Today, it seems like older sister wants all of her attention.

“Well, she was just bathed about an hour ago darling, and her cloth hasn’t been soiled yet.”

Ysilla shakes her head in avid disagreement before her mother even finishes her sentiment.

“No, it’s not bath oils or balms. It’s all her- she smells like a fresh flower. I could just eat her up in one bite, especially her little toes!” Ysilla moaned sweetly, her voice pitching high and kisses smooching along the tiny thing’s closed fist.

Rhaenyra smiles something soft and happy, relaxing into an armchair in her spacious regent apartments. A room fit for a queen, but it felt too reminiscent of her young life spent in these castle walls. Her father’s voice still echoed off the stones; her mother’s too, if she listened hard enough.

It was taking some time to adjust to, as were all the things that came with her crowning. All her life, Rhaenyra clung to this moment. The moment where she would be the ruler her father anointed her to be; Queen of all, protector of the realm, leader of the people. And now that she was here, it all felt strangely… anticlimactic. Like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, a raucous huzzah! to ring in her destiny. But no such luck; a three-day feast and celebrations with the people did nothing but remind her of mummer’s play she paid witness to many years prior, uncertain thoughts swirling about her head day and night.

Her mind is an unwelcome deterrence from her daughters’ company, and Rhaenyra focuses her attention on her now silent child.

There’s a peculiar dim shading her daughter’s gaze, her signature smile that shines brighter than the sun above clouded over to something akin to a grimace. Ysilla feels eyes upon her and she tries to sneak a glance at her mother. Rhaenyra’s eyes cut into hers. Ysilla pretends not to notice the worry in her stare.

“What troubles you, my girl? Are you… having second thoughts?” Rhaenyra tries to keep her words affable but even she can hear the twinge of hope in them.

Her last born brother is an enigma of a man. The rider of the biggest dragon since Balerion, a one-eyed shadow and a master with a blade, the cool facade over his honed cruelness terrifies Rhaenyra. Not for herself, of course not, but for her first child. Her lovely little one, Ysilla. That man being tied forever to her daughter brought only worry to her mind, dread coursing thickly through her veins. Every day, Rhaenyra pours over if she made the correct decision, the right decision to betrothe Ysilla to Aemond.

Rhaenyra remembers being so young herself, screaming prayers and curses in her mother tongue, the feeling of her womb being squeezed in a vice grip still vivid over fifteen years later. How her little bump had blossomed into a thing so tiny, it swam in the crimson blanket gifted from her soon-to-be grandsire. How the unwavering weight of protectiveness that crushed her stole all air from her lungs. How Rhaenyra knew fully and without doubt, she would rip any being apart who dared to lay a heavy finger on her daughter’s head.

Ysilla’s eyes widen a tad, a disbelieving smile curling her mouth. She bounces Visenya anxiously, nervous energy buzzing along her skin.

“No mother,” her words are sharp and spoken through tight lips. “Aemond and I are set to marry and we have no doubts about our coming union. No matter how much you and Daemon wish otherwise.”

Rhaenyra lets the retort roll off of her like oil over water.

“All I wish is for you to be content, my heart. No more, no less. That is all.”

Ysilla snorts, shifting Visenya slightly as the babe stirs in her wrap.

“And father? What does he wish for me? For my future husband?”

Her mother lets out a simple sigh, a familiar sound that seems to come frequently after Daemon’s name.

“Daemon only wants what’s best for this family. Aemond is a strong fighter, a quick learner, and a fierce foe. He will do wonderfully in our home and aid us in any troubles that the years may bring.”

Ysilla measures the weight of her words, eyebrows still pinched together. Rhaenyra wishes to smooth her thumb over them, to steal away her girl’s unease. The curse of being a mother- to endlessly wish to take her children��s pain and make it her own. To bear the brunt for them.

“He’s more than just a soldier awaiting orders.” Ysilla whispers. Rhaenyra has to strain to hear her.

“He’s… he’s funny. He makes me laugh even when I feel like doing the opposite. He’s smart, more-so than some maesters I’ve met throughout the years. He’s quiet and reserved at times, but when he speaks, I hang on his every word.” Ysilla’s eyes grow a touch glazed and her smile has a kiss of love at the corner. “He loves his family- his sister and mother, his niece and nephews- even his brother, though he will never admit it aloud, with such ferociousness it feels as if it is a living and breathing thing. He loves me, the same way.” Ysilla’s cheeks bloom hot, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze.

Yes, Rhaenyra knows all too well how much Aemond has fallen for her daughter. Finding the duo together the night following Ysilla’s ball- in the same room Ysilla had her first moonblood in at ten-and-two- tangled in the sheets as naked as the day they were born had killed something in Rhaenyra’s soul. The girl she had borne in her own girlhood, becoming a woman right before her eyes. The childlike innocence had disappeared right along her maidenhead.

Rhaenyra’s only regret is that Daemon punched Aemond before she could.

“But, I do have fears.” Ysilla’s voice grows quiet and a touch uncertain, so unbecoming of her nature that it pulls Rhaenyra to her feet and across the room in a moment’s breath. She tucks a curl behind her firstborn’s ear, laying a kiss to the corner of her eye. Ysilla’s exhale is a shaky one, and she sways into her mother. A rock, grounded and unwavering; her mother is a woman of strength and fortitude- a Goddess amongst men. Ysilla will always think that blasphemously.

“Tell me, Ysilla. Let me carry this burden with you. Mother is here.” Rhaenyra whispers it like a secret to Ysilla’s temple and suddenly, it’s many moons ago, and the two are curled safe and warm under the covers, spinning tales of hellhounds and sorcerer’s spells and toppling kingdoms while the winds howl through the night.

“Fears for the future, fears of the unknown. I’m sure every coming bride feels these too.” Ysilla tries for a laugh, but it’s watery and her lips shake even when she presses them tightly together. Rhaenyra catches the first tear as it falls, but the second and third carve streams down the apples of her cheeks.

“What if… I’m not meant to be a mother? I couldn’t even hatch my own dragon egg, muña, what if it was for a reason that the Gods already know but they haven’t yet shared with me? What if Aemond doesn’t want babies, or worse, doesn’t want them with me? What if we tire of each other and he looks elsewhere?” Ysilla’s words start to jumble together, tears dripping off her chin and splashing onto a snoozing Visenya. The babe gives a whining cry and Ysilla jumps, arms tightening around the bundle but tears only coming faster at the distress she caused.

Ysilla murmurs soothing apologies to her sister, wiping the splatters with unsteady fingers.

Rhaenyra’s palm finds Ysilla’s back, rubbing firm circles against the crushed velvet and consoling shhhhs pressing into her hair.

“Now I may not know much but what I do know my girl, is that you are my daughter, through and through. The blood of my blood, you are a dragon. No matter if you marry one, no matter if you carry one, you alone are the strength and the power of our family name. Your husband is a man blessed by Gods above to have you on his arm.” Rhaenyra swallows, biting her tongue’s instance to sway her daughter in a direction opposite of Aemond Targaryen’s. But the young Queen knows it to be pointless, the vision of two dancing dragons burned forever behind her eyes.

“There is not one doubt in my mind that he’ll hold steadfast beside you, until the end of your days.” Rhaenyra strokes her cheek, a humorous little grin twisting her lips, attempting to lighten her spirits. “Trust me, a mother knows.”

Rhaenyra hoped that her speech would bring comfort to her daughter’s frazzled mind but it seemed to do the opposite, as hiccuping sobs break through Ysilla’s throat and her face crumbles like stone. Rhaenyra gathers her up, Ysilla’s head along her chest, the steady thumping of her mother’s heart beneath her ear a lullaby that croons a pacifying melody.

Rhaenyra holds her daughters in her arms, the crown of only motherhood balanced atop her head. The day ahead of her is long and stretching; plights of the common people waiting to be heard, harvest numbers to account for, petty squabbles to squish before they multiply to issues that she’ll lose sleep over. Rhaenyra doesn’t have much time to spare, all her minutes scheduled and ticked as they fall but by her hand alone, she’ll halt the sun itself if she must. She’ll make more hours in the day and push off the moon’s rise if her daughter needs her here, with her.

They’ll do all things together, as they always have.

10 days left.

Ysilla moans into her palm, clutching at the edge of the table to ground her to the earth. The writing quill nearly snaps in her grip, a bend in the thick stem twisting it to an angle. The neat script of her penmanship hidden now under several splattered ink drops, the prose of her heart blurring into lines of inky black that are undecipherable.

A harsh slap tears through the air and Ysilla arches away from the jolt against her bottom, but she only succeeds in rocking her spread cunt further against Aemond’s ravenous mouth. His tongue laps deviously at her bared entrance, thick fingers sliding into her and tickling her silken walls.

“I thought I told you to not fuck it up again. Are you immune to following orders, niece?” Aemond’s voice is drenched in lust, notes of false disappointment lost to the shine of her slick on his chin.

Ysilla whines, nails digging divots into the old oak.

“I’m trying, fuck, Aemond, take pity on me.” She pines for his locks threaded through her fingers, wants to tug them like reigns of a horse bridle to steer his tongue just slightly left. But per his very clear instructions, Ysilla was not to move her hands from the table as she was to focus on writing out her Valyrian vows, committing them to memory so that their ceremony would go off without a hitch. If she disobeyed the laid out rules, Aemond would stop his ministrations and only begin again after she was able to scribble out a few lines.

The pile of crumpled up parchment across from her proof as to how well she is doing.

Aemond laughs at her begging cruelly, fingers dragging in and out of her with lazy disinterest.

“Pity is for the weak, byka zaldrītsos. You can take it.” He whispers his praise, lips brushing the inside of her thigh, sparking fire every where he touches. He doesn’t need Vhagar to cause destruction- Aemond does that all on his own, with his vicious mouth and wicked tongue.

Sweat trickles down Ysilla’s temple, and she flexes her calves before snatching up a new sheet of parchment. Singling out every ounce of concentration she possesses, Ysilla attempts to begin again, the letters of the ancient language flowing from her memory and through her fingers.

Mazeman ao sir, Aemond Targārien, hae ñuha mēre.

Aemond’s tongue flattens, a sweeping lick from hole to button causing her ankles to shake. He sucks one of her lips into his mouth, fingers drenched in her wetness. He glides them along her cleft, a sizzling threat that causes Ysilla's eyes to blur. Her hand continues across the page, the quill scratching out shaky black letters.

Ñuha gīda.

He sucks at her nub, a jagged cry escaping her mouth. It bounces sharply off the walls and a tear splashes next to the paper. Ysilla wipes frantically at her face.

Ñuha valzȳrys.

Thick fingers spread her cleft, Aemond massaging gently at her back entrance. A slicked finger breaches her and Ysilla bites into her wrist, blood springing hot and acrid on her tongue. She sucks it down, the pain welcome as it clears her head.

Naejot iōragon ondoso se support.

Aemond hums his praise, tongue becoming frenzied as he works her open on one finger. And then two. Ysilla is like a dog with a bone, wrist impaled on her sharp teeth, teardrops and saliva mingling in rivelets as they drip down her forearm.

Naejot cherish se jorrāelagon.

She fucks herself forward, backward, meeting his tongue, shying away from his fingers. The pain and the pleasure a line she can no longer distinguish. She feels light-headed, her breathing short and shallow.

Syt se rest hen ñuha tubissa se beyond, ēva se mōris hen jēda.

The coil in her cunt tightens, her legs nearly giving way, forcing Aemond’s fingers deeper inside her. His tongue too, and Ysilla can feel the brush of his narrow nose against her. Ysilla loses breath, forehead dropping to burrow in the crook of her elbow. Aemond snarls a hungry sound, free arm coming around to loop at her hips, yanking her down to ride his face. His fingers drive in and out of her, the burn a nice drag that causes her to gush over his mouth.

Īlva ānogar, hēnkirī, binding īlva isse bisa ābrar se se hembar.

The words are crooked and surely misspelled, Ysilla writing them through a slanted gaze, quill on the verge of becoming two pieces. She’s nearly there, nearly finished. As if he can hear her desperate thoughts, Aemond slides his fingers into a curl, his thumb sinking into her clenching cunt and he arches them towards each other. He plays her like a fiddle, her noises a ballad of their carnality.

Iā bond daor vala kessa qūvy apart.

Ysilla shatters as the last word etches onto the page, sobbing pleas begging for her beloved’s mercy as she comes in waves, soaking Aemond’s face with her pleasure. He slurps lewdly, catching all she has to offer in his mouth, drinking her down as if she’s a rare wine he can’t get enough of. Ysilla would blush in shame if her mind wasn’t fogged over by unrelenting lust. He slides his fingers carefully out of her, Ysilla screwing her face up in displeasure at the vacant feeling

Aemond straightens along her back, fixing down her skirts and collecting her curls off to one shoulder to cool her off. He presses forward, reading her sloppy scrawl over her shoulder. His eyes trail over the words, possessiveness coursing through him ferociously. He can nearly hear her sweet voice reading out the vows and the thought that he’ll only have to wait a few more days to experience them nearly drives him over the edge.

Aemond winds his arms around her waist, tugging Ysilla upwards and flush against him. Her head lolls along his shoulder, her breaths still labored and he fights a smile of pride at his handiwork.

“You did so good for me, Princess. You listened so well.” Ysilla whimpers at the innocent kiss he places on her cheek, so opposite an act considering where his mouth just was. Her legs still quiver beneath her, but the retribution growing inside her strokes strength up her spine.

Drawing forward a chair with her foot, Ysilla maneuvers Aemond into it, his ass crashing down to the unforgiving wood. He arches a brow, thighs spreading on instinct as Ysilla steps to him. Her palm slams against the table, dragging to him a smudged piece of blank parchment. The bent quill and inkpot are an arm’s reach away from him. She bends towards her lover, hands bracing on the arms of the chair. Her lips are bloodied and wet, spit dripping viscously off her chin. Her tongue flicks out, a flat lick from the jut of his chin to the top of his lip makes her own taste burst sharply on her palette.

Aemond could tear through his breeches with how achingly hard he is. He wants to wrap a hand around her throat, force her to straddle his lap, and fuck his cock so deep inside of her, she’ll be bowlegged until the wedding. The image his brain conjures makes his hips thrust upwards involuntarily and Ysilla smiles a grisly thing, her teeth tinged red. She looks ghastly and Aemond licks his lips like a man half-starved.

“Your turn, husband.” Ysilla drops to her knees, voice wrecked, lithe fingers tearing through his laces and freeing him. His cock pulses and jumps in her hand, and Aemond curses as she blows cool air over the weeping slit. It isn’t until he clenches the warped quill in his fist that Ysilla swallows him down to the root. And then removes her mouth just as swiftly as he lets his eyes roll to the back of his skull. He fixes her with a glare. She pumps him just a touch shy of not tight enough, and winks at him.

Revenge is a dish he finds absolutely maddening.

6 days.

Alicent pulls Aemond along the edge of the room, arms linked at the bend of their elbows, the polished floors of the Starry Sept catching the light of midday’s sun that pours prisms of color through the stained glass windows.

There’s flurries of servants about, cleaning and decorating the holy room to prepare for the Royal Wedding. Soon, Oldtown will be bursting at its seams with visitors from all over Westeros, eager to attend the most anticipated union of the last century.

Targaryen weddings happen from time to time, of course, but this one is causing quite the stir all over the Realm. Queen Rhaenyra and Alicent Hightower’s feud has been long-standing and impossible to ignore as the years have passed and now, they were to be joined together by way of marriage. Drama fed the people more than bread ever could, and the buzz surrounding Aemond and Ysilla’s union only grew as the date drew nearer.

Alicent had been here over a week already, perfecting the town to welcome the wedding guests. Aemond had arrived on Vhagar a few hours ago, reluctantly leaving Ysilla sound asleep in their chambers. They hadn’t been apart since that wretched ball and even with three of his most trusted guards posted outside their door, the impulse to cling to her side nearly sent him crawling back to her. Weak for only her, he certainly is.

“And the windows will be cleaned by the morrow and once more the morning of the ceremony, to ensure they truly shine. All of the candles will be replaced with new ones, and we’ll finally fix The Father’s scales so they appear balanced.” His mother prattles on, laying out her thoughts, Aemond nodding at the parts he is supposed to. He couldn’t spare a single fuck if he and Ysilla were to marry in the damned Dragonpit, as long as they married.

Ironic that the closer the day came, it seemed more and more out of reach.

“I’m so happy you made the trip out here, my boy.” Alicent pushes back a platinum strand that came loose in his flight. Her fingers quake, drifting over the band of his eyepatch, forever haunted by that accursed night.

“It’s so hard to tear you from Ysilla’s side these days. It’s like you’re already gone.” Alicent snivels, pressing a juniper colored handkerchief to her nose. Aemond fights a roll of his eye.

“Mother,” Aemond starts, frustration bleeding into his tone.

“My son, please, humor me.” Alicent digs her nails along his forearm, not harshly but enough to cause him to halt. Aemond sighs gratingly through his nose but concedes, head bowing forward to urge his mother to speak her mind.

“Ysilla is a great match, one that has become more and more well-suited as I see the two of you together. She is lovely and wonderful and beautiful. She’s well-read and primed for perfection but she reminds me so much of her mother that it strikes fear in me, Aemond.” Alicent’s voice grows a sliver ragged, nails picking at the cufflink at his wrist.

“Rhaenyra was spirited and lively, when we were girls. We spent every waking moment together, never parting far from each other’s sides. Her fixations however, bordered on all-consuming. They narrowed her focus on one point and everything else became inconsequential. I don’t want you to lose yourself to any predilections that may have passed on to her daughter. I don’t… I don’t want to lose you too.”

Aemond sees something swim in his mother’s green gaze when she reflects on her past she shares with his older sister. A look none-too distant from the way he knows his eyes soften when they’re fixed on Ysilla. He finds it curious.

“I am not losing a part of myself, mother; this is not a sacrifice I’m committing. I am gaining something here. A wife, a family, a future.” He keeps going, pretending the hurt that dawns on her face doesn’t feel like a blade in his belly. “Youare gaining something here too. A daughter, grandchildren… a friend in the form of her mother.”

Alicent turns from his ceaseless stare, unable to hold it any longer. Tears, unwelcome and unbidden, irk her in their appearance. She doesn’t wish to shed any more grief over years lost and possibilities wasted. This newfound friendship she’s attempting to forge with Rhaenyra has brought more ease to her heart than she can recall experiencing since she was a girl. But the past refuses to stay buried, even in her own mind, and the thought of her most precious son leaving her behind threatens to spiral her down a dark path.

Aemond’s hands rest on her shoulders, lips pressing a peck into her hair and she breathes as evenly as she can.

“We can find joy, mother, I know it. We just,” Aemond exhales, almost preaching the words to himself. The Mother and the Maiden bore down on him with their stone stares, forcing him to avow his purest desires. He’s always hated this place. “We just have to reach out and take it.”

2 days.

“Bloody hell, ‘Silla, be quiet.” Lucerys’ hissed whisper rockets through the hall, breaking the stretching silence of the twilight. The hour is late, most likely waning into the very early hours of the morning and the occupants of the royal quarters are fast asleep and readying themselves for a final day of preparations on the morrow before setting off for Oldtown.

That is, all but the bride-to-be and her little brothers.

Lucerys, a whole head shorter than both Jace and Ysilla, has somehow been settled with the duty of dragging his two very drunk siblings through the winding halls of the castle and attempting to get them safely to their rooms.

They had slipped from the Keep, a hidden passage in Ysilla’s chambers, an opportune getaway that was too tempting to ignore. Aegon had always slurred about his most cherished taverns and while his nephews ignored him without thought, a few choice places had wiggled into their brains and whispered their allure.

And a final visit to their sister for old time’s sake, before her impending marriage that the boys were dreading, had quickly turned to a night of mischief prompted by a particularly strong bottle of Dornish wine.

You see, Ysilla and Jace had a terrible competitive streak, stemming back before Lucerys was even born. Mother had told him that the two would come near to sparring over who got to read to him, who got to untangle his curls, even who got to dress him for the day. Jace had sworn once, hand placed over the bark of a Weirwood tree, that Lucerys’ first word was Jac-ey. Ysilla had clobbered him over the head with her sketchbook, outrage burning in her words as she proclaimed That is absolutely false, you little weasel! It was “Sill-i”.

And once they were seated at a far back table in one of the less crowded taverns the trio had come across, a bottle of mulled cider had fallen victim to the two elders' attempts to one-up each other.

Lucerys had only reached the bottom of his first pint when Jace and ‘Silli polished off their second bottle, choosing rum as the next liquid conquest.

“You’re such a good brother, Lukey.” Ysilla slurs, feet still somehow thankfully beneath her, as Lucerys doubted he had the strength to carry both of his siblings into the castle. She was his favorite tonight, more-so for the fact that she wasn’t the one who had spewed spirits all over his shoes. But Ysilla also tended to get very lovey-dovey when she fell too far into her cups, and the tears that seemed to follow always made Luke awkward and distressed.

“Yes, ‘Silla, I know. You’ve said that twice already.” Lucerys huffs, taking a moment to catch his breath, and right a swaying half-asleep Jacaerys. He applauds himself for not letting either of them tumble down the steps they just had to summit. A win in his eyes, really.

“Well it’s true.” Ysilla grumbles, hiccups and the occasional belch escaping her. Luke tries not to laugh, toeing open the hidden door that leads to his salvation. He could shout in celebration; they’re finally home.

The door swings open and Lucerys tries not to choke on his spit.

Aemond Targaryen twirls his blade lazily, leaning casually amongst the throws of Ysilla’s bed. Twin knights in the form of Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk stand guard by both the balcony and the door leading to the hall of the castle.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Aemond catches the dagger he throws up in the air by the dull side of the blade, sheathing it as he rolls to his feet.

“Aemondddd.” Ysilla’s voice is a dreamy sigh as she hears her almost-husband, head rolling forward along Lucerys’ shoulder to aim a blinding beam at him.

Aemond scoffs, all resentment leaching from his eye at the sight of his sloshed lover. A fond annoyance finds its place, and he drifts closer to the wobbly Velaryons.

Lucerys, still after all these years, can’t seem to look Aemond in the eye but tonight he is tired, hungry, painfully sober and Jace smells of vomit so he puts his past guilt to the side and pushes his sister into his uncle.

Aemond catches her readily, narrowing his lone eye at the middle Strong son. There is no love lost between him and his bethrothed’s brothers, especially the one that slashed the eye from his head at only five years of age.

“She likes mint tea after a night of drinking, with goat’s milk and too much honey. She has some stashed away in her vanity; her handmaid knows how to prepare it properly.” Lucerys offers his knowledge as an olive branch, turning full attention to pull his brother along, staggering under the deadweight of the drunken boy.

Aemond says nothing, Ysilla cooing and mumbling happy noises into his throat, arms slung about his neck. Lucerys takes his dismissal with a farewell nod, pulling Jace along as they try to make their way to their quarters.

“Ser Arryk,” Aemond’s voice never fails to frost over Lucerys’ skin. “Make sure these two find their way back to their rooms safely. My bride would have my head if anything were to happen to her brothers.” Ysilla giggles girlishly at my bride and Lucerys exhales a relieved breath.

“And make sure the Queen knows exactly where they were tonight- I’m sure she would be very interested to know of her son’s whereabouts.” The smugness in his uncle’s voice makes Lucerys wish he had taken his other eye.

Aemond smirks, watching the knight take hold of Jacaerys’ arm as they disappear behind the door. He spares a glance down at Ysilla, finding hazy eyes staring up at him with unveiled devotion. He snorts, wrapping arms around her hips and nearly lifting her off her feet.

“Your breath stinks.” Aemond asserts, nodding at Ser Erryk as he pulls the door shut behind him, leaving the two alone.

Ysilla scoffs indignantly, shoving at him with sloppy aim, kicking herself away as he plops her on the bed.

“You stink! Dragon smell is not very becoming of you, husband.” Ysilla shoots back childishly, tugging roughly at her boot’s laces with a very pinched look of concentration.

Aemond pulls a chair from in front of the lit hearth, angling it at the foot of her bed and sits himself down. He grasps at Ysilla’s ankle, ignoring her squeak as he pulls her towards him. He works at the knot she’s achieved in her drunken frustration.

“I thought you said I smell of orange blossoms and sword polish.”

Ysilla shoots up, curled fringe falling into her eyes that she tries to blow away with puckered lips. Her stare is a bit unfocused, but the inquiry building there is undeniable.

“I never said that to you.”

Aemond’s lips curl at the end, pulling off one boot before starting on the other. He keeps his eyes on the task at hand, not avoiding her gaze, per say. Just occupied.

“Not out loud, you didn’t.”

The haze of alcohol slows her realization, but Aemond is quick to catch her foot as it shoots out to collide with his stomach when it dawns on her.

“You cretin! You absolute fucker, you read my diary!”

Aemond laughs at her outburst, releasing her hostage foot as she drags herself up the bed and away from him. Ysilla curls into a ball, eyes blazing and attempting to burn him to a crisp.

“You sleep in late and I tire of mapping your beauty to my mind. You left it open one night and I found it pleasing to pass the time.” Aemond’s voice is too sweet and Ysilla rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and dwelling in her dismay. Aemond wants to sink his teeth into her pouty mouth.

“Busy yourself with something else then! Go ride your dragon or read an actual book or swing a bloody sword, but leave my thoughts alone.” Ysilla rolls over, burying the last of her sentiment into her pillow and Aemond slips soundlessly into the bed behind her. He winds his arms around her waist, pulling her petulant form to meld against him.

“I couldn’t leave your thoughts no matter how hard you try.” He brushes a kiss to the skin behind her ear and Ysilla shivers. “And I don’t want to leave our bed without you joining me to start our day. My body might depart but my mind would stay with you as long as you’re absent from my side.”

Ysilla is silent for a moment before she turns to face Aemond. Her eyes are trained on his chest, fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his tunic.

“Are you nervous?” Aemond doesn’t ask what about- he’s already irked his bride enough tonight, he doesn’t wish to cause a fight. No matter how tempting she is in her anger.

“Not one bit.” Aemond’s hand comes up to tangle with her fingers, pulling her palm flat over his heart, making her feel the organ that beats only for her.

Ysilla sniffs, bleary eyes raising to find his singular stare, nuzzling closer to him, her bare feet intertwining with his legs. Her cheeks are flushed from the ale, hair a bit wild, and Aemond regrets never taking to art. How he wishes he could commit Ysilla’s beauty to paint, to coal, anything so that he could be surrounded by her face no matter where she be.

She brushes her thumb feather-light over the end of his scar and the chill it leaves him with soothes any phantom aches. He refuses to close his eyes before she does.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Ysilla breathes out, speech slurred only slightly and at last, her lashes flutter shut and her breaths even out. Aemond nudges off his boots, unwilling to part from his betrothed, the comforting scent of her lulling him to sleep. Ysilla’s hand is still placed over his heart, and the beats slow as Aemond drifts off.

“Me either, my love.”

The day of.

Ysilla’s feet are clouds beneath her, floating her out of the Starry Sept and into a private room meant for the bride.

The deafening cheers and claps of the wedding guests still ring in her ears, lips puffing from Aemond’s insistent mouth. She presses her fingertips to them, quivering at the hot rush of want that spins in her stomach from the bruising ache. She had bit him slightly, barely a press of her teeth, to chase him back from plundering her mouth with his skilled tongue in front of all their witnesses- not to mention the Gods. But the look he shot her could’ve made The Crone’s lamp tumble from her hands and shatter into a million little pieces. Ysilla had to hide her face in his shoulder in the semblance of an embrace to hide the flames licking up her neck. As if that would help, as Aemond only whispered the most unholiest of dirty thoughts into her ear. Ysilla is sure there are apples that paled in intensity to her face as she descended the steps, hand-in-hand with Aemond.

A knock amongst the wood whirls her around, a blonde head popping in before she can call out her greeting. A relieved smile graces her face, pleased to not have to entertain anymore Septons.

“Rytsas kepa,” Ysilla welcomes, Daemon closing the door behind him. “Skoriot iksis muña?”

“Readying Syrax and Caraxes for the flight to Dragonstone. I think we’ve frightened the folks of Oldtown enough with their presence.” Dameon grins gleefully, not a shred of remorse in his visage. His smile drops though when he takes in her choice of attire.

“You have to change, Ysilla. Dresses don’t fare well when riding dragonback.”

“And how would you know? Spent much time in gowns, father?” Mirth tickles her pink, happiness exuding from every pore of her being. Daemon chuckles at her silliness, his dismay regarding the entire day melting slightly at his daughter’s elation.

“I’ve lived a long life, maybe I’ll share that story with you someday.”

Ysilla chuckles, nodding affirmatively, taking a moment to breathe.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Ysilla spins in a circle searching for her trunk, patting down her dress, hands coming up to tuck her curls behind her ears. Her face feels hot but she can’t stop smiling; just one more ceremony and it’ll be complete. She and Aemond will be tied together forever.

Daemon catches her hand and Ysilla stops short, the heavy twirl of her skirts continues to twist around her and pulls at her hips.

His eyes are aimed at the floor and Ysilla worries she must’ve gotten something on her dress with how hard he’s staring but his voice quiets her fears.

“Say the word, little one, and I’ll whisk you away from here. I’ll load you onto Caraxes with half the gold the Iron Bank has locked away, and I’ll take you anywhere you have ever wished to see.” Her stepfather’s voice is uncharacteristically earnest and her heart swells tenderly.

Ysilla finds herself blessed- she has more fathers to count than some get in a multiple lifetimes. Ser Harwin, always hovering about in case she called on him, was a kind, warm man who never failed to remind Ysilla of home. Laenor, more absent than not but vivid and tender when he was present, had carved a hole into her heart with his demise, never to be filled again.

And Daemon; he had dropped into her life at the peaking dawn of her womanhood with two daughters in tow and a past so entwined with her mother’s it had made Ysilla’s head hurt. Tepid at times and boiling at others, Ysilla remembers she wasn’t too sure what to make of him at the beginning. But with time and commitment, he had earned himself a place in her family. He always treated her with respect, listened to her fantastical stories with half a keen ear, trailed behind her dancing across the beach, and put a heavy blade in her hand when he was sure she wouldn’t slip with it and lose a finger. He was a father in all the ways that weren’t rewarding but in all that mattered.

“Well, Dorne has always been a sight to behold, I’ve heard.”

A conspiring grin pulls at her stepfather’s mouth, an expression Ysilla always aimed to drag out of him. Dameon always looked more approachable that way- contentment softening his ruggish features.

“I could get you there before the sun would set.”

Ysilla hums, a tempting offer she acts like she contemplates, nibbling along her bottom lip and brow furrowed in false pondering.

“The weather would be quite beautiful. The flowers in bloom, the waters warm, the wine flowing.”

Daemon nods, a bigger smile taking over, plucking a speck of lint from her garments. He swings a curl back behind her, making sure her jewelry is sparkling and faced forward. He’s busying himself for the answer he knows is coming.

“But unfortunately,” Ysilla squeezes his hand in her’s, Dameon answering with a squeeze a fraction tighter. “I think that ship has sailed, father.” She wiggles her shoulders, the weight of Aemond’s cloak draped around her barely shifting with her movement.

His eyes are lit with begrudging acceptance of Ysilla’s choice, the joking air dissipating as he voices an agreeing groan.

Ysilla’s eyes are misty, and her cheeks ache pleasantly from her wide stretching smile.

“Plus, he’d find me on Vhagar and drag me back with him.”

Daemon pfffts out a humorous burst of air and Ysilla knocks her forehead to his shoulder as he pulls her into a one-armed hug.

“He’d have to get through me first.”

The night of.

Aemond and Ysilla stumble into his room their room, slurred whispers and uncontrollable giggles the song of too much celebrating and way too much wine.

The newlyweds bar the door behind them. Ysilla flings off her shoes, moaning at the rushing relief of freedom for her feet. Aemond’s arms wrap themselves around her, pulling her back tight to his front. He noses at her temple, a rhythmic growl rolling from his chest.

“All night long you’ve forced me to lend an ear to your moans and expected me to do nothing about them. The fruits, the pigeon pie, the imported wine, the cake, all followed by the sounds of your pleasure.” Aemond presses his teeth to the meat of her cheek and he feels it pull upwards at the grin Ysilla dons.

“What can I say, it was really good pie.”

Ysilla twists around, her fingers braiding through his hair and Aemond moans a pleased sound. Ysilla’s fingers are magic, constantly seeking out the knots and tangles that appear at the end of a long day. She refuses to rest until the twisted locks sweep down into a blonde river of gleaming strands.

“Mmmm, who's moaning now, my love?” Ysilla challenges, desire floating in lavender irises. She sucks at her lip, wincing and releasing it at the sharp crack of pain left behind by the Dragonglass’ cut. Aemond’s thumb finds the wound, smearing her blood along his finger before rolling the digit around his tongue. The way that that depraved act spears thirst through her makes her dizzy.

“You taste divine, Ysilla.”

Ysilla purrs, pulling him down by the hair to lick at his lips but he dances away before their mouths can meet. Ysilla frowns, feeling entirely too empty without him pressed against her. Only a day spent fully together and she can’t stomach them being apart. Gods help her.

“A plan?” Ysilla raises a dark brow, bliss still lingering in every fiber of her being. She tries a grin, and Aemond’s answering curl of his lips banishes all distress from her heart.

“Yes, little one, one that you may not be privy to. Now, make yourself comfortable and I’ll be along for you soon.” Ysilla laughs at her husband’s antics (her husband, her husband, her husband. She’ll never tire of that, she hopes) and she shoos him away to go about his mission.

Aemond stalks off, slipping into an adjoining room and behind a changing partition, nodding his approval at the set-up he directed the servants to prepare.

A large brass bath, filled halfway with flame-boiled water, scented with rose oil and loose peony petals . Candles are lit in every corner, a table set with two glasses and Ysilla’s favorite plum wine waiting to be consumed. Almond oil, Aemond’s choice, is by the foot of the bath and he grows restless. He plans to press into all her muscles, chase away her stress and soreness, make her pliant and boneless before slipping inside of her, at last their coupling right and true in the eyes of their ancestors.

Husband and wife. Valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys.

Aemond spares a final glance at the room, rubbing his hands together before marching back to his and Ysilla’s room. But Aemond can’t suppress a laugh, scratching at his brow at the sight that greets his arrival.

Ysilla is curled under the furs, pants and shirt in a pile in the corner of their room, soft snores the only sound besides the logs burning in the hearth. He tosses his eyepatch on the table, coming closer to the bed and making sure she’s tucked in tight. He blows out the bedside candle, darkness blanketing the room. The glow from the fireplace’s flames give Aemond a last glance of his wife’s sleeping face. He sighs as he trudges back to the bath, regrettably alone. He strips down, a trail of clothes marking his path.

Aemond swings his legs over the rim of the tub, dunking himself under the boiling water, hoping the scald chases away his undying want for the woman dozing in the other room.

It doesn’t and Aemond starts to count down the minutes until sunrise, where he can awaken his wife with his mouth upon her cunt, her moans singing alongside the twittering of the owls.

“Don’t look so frightened, wife.” Aemond growled the last part into her ear, woozy and whirling from the day’s events.

Ysilla dared an amazed laugh, stare unwilling to break from the behemoth emerald beast she was expected to mount. Looking at her now, Ysilla was dumbfounded of how a young boy gambled his life, and chanced a death by flames or fangs to claim her.

Her husband, one-of-a-kind he is.

“You face me with meeting the only other woman in your life and expect me to be all smiles?” Ysilla tried her hand at a jest but it fell flat, her voice a few octaves too high.

Aemond grinned, securing his gloves and tightening his hair band, coming forward and pulling her towards him. He double-knotted the tie of his cloak at the base of her throat, tucking her curls beneath the black stitchings. She had shed her wedding dress before leaving the Sept, electing a pair of dark brown breeches and a billowing ruby houppelande much more appropriate for dragon riding. She kept the cloak wrapped around her though, and Aemond’s heart sailed at the sight of his protection swathed about her.

It wasn’t a long journey by any means, a little less than an hour to Dragonstone, where they would be joined in the customs of Old Valyria. Ysilla and Aemond had made the decision it would be just the two of them for the ceremony, and chose Maester Gerardys, a man who had watched over Ysilla since her birth, to officiate the union. Daemon and Rhaenyra didn’t take immediately to the decision, but a bat of Ysilla’s lashes and a pleading twist of her lips had quieted their objections. But they weren’t swayed enough not to be waiting on the newlyweds at the castle across the cliff’s way. Getting there was the only obstacle now.

Aemond settled his hands on Ysilla’s shoulders, pulling her attention from the sleeping dragon to fixate on him. He chuckled at the apprehension she couldn’t hide on her face, and he felt a small victory at the breathy laugh she released, nerves fleeting with the sound.

He tugged on her hand, every small step forward a win he wore like a crown.

“Come now, my love, our life awaits.” Aemond gifted her a perfect smile before turning and climbing up the rope ladder along Vhagar’s neck. The old beast snuffled, puffs of smoke drifting from her snout as her rider dared to awaken her from her slumber. Ysilla’s legs wobbled once Vhagar aimed her yellow stare at her, something akin to a question building in her huge eyes.

Ysilla dropped forward in an almost curtsey. “Rytsas Vhagar.” Ysilla stilled, locking eyes with the magnificent creature. The seconds stretched on, but Ysilla refused to retreat. Vhagar cocked her head to the side, perhaps scrutinizing the tiny girl before shaking her mammoth head, the gust of wind it conjured nearly knocking Ysilla over. She arched her giant claws, bones cracking vociferously and Ysilla realized she was stretching. Ysilla had seen street cats do the same and she suppressed a chuckle, starting up the flimsy ladder, Aemond’s hand securing around her elbow and guiding her in front of him.

“Alright you, so make sure you don’t move too much. Hold on here and here, and loop your feet through these.” Aemond directed her, prodding at her and Ysilla rolled her eyes fondly.

“I’ve ridden a dragon before, thank you.” Ysilla shot back, memories of her and her mother on Syrax stirring up dormant instincts. It’s been years since she did that and Ysilla cried in fear the whole time, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He hums dismissively, arms encasing her so that he can grip at Vhagar’s reigns.

“Not like this, ñuha prūmia. Hold on tight.”

And then all at once, following a Valyrian command, Ysilla jolted forward, gasping in a breath as Vhagar took off over the seaside cliff, She wished for a free hand to cover her mouth to stunt a scream, but her teeth would have to do as she was too terrified to release the hold she had on the saddle. Ysilla’s stomach was thrown into loops, the weightlessness in her legs unpleasant and she never imagined she’d miss the ground beneath her until that moment.

She hadn't realized her eyes were squeezed shut, partially hoping she just passed out but Aemond’s voice at her ear drifted over the roar of the wind.

“Open your eyes, Ysilla.”

Ysilla did so reluctantly but once she did, oh, it was life changing.

She had never seen the sea from this height before, never leveled her stare with white puffy clouds, seen above the sun as it began to set. The air was thinner this high up, but all the more clear. Ysilla was slack-jawed, awe taking over for debilitating fear. Her eyes soaked in everything and it still seemed like there was more to see.

Even with the sun setting ablaze the ocean in its descent, the summit of the moon close behind, Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes away from his wife’s face. Nothing felt more right than in that moment; a Targaryen bride in his arms, his dragon soaring beneath him, a bright, opportune future laid out further than the stretch of the sea. Happiness, a once alien emotion that seemed to become more familiar each day spent by Ysilla’s side, bloomed like a spring flower in his chest and took root. Finally, Aemond let himself breathe out, let himself just be. He grasped Vhagar’s reigns tighter, secured Ysilla against him, and directed the dragon higher into the sky, racing against the sunset, basking in his wife’s rollicking laughter all the way.

byka zaldrītsos

little dragon

muña

mother

Mazeman ao sir, aemond Targārien, hae ñuha mēre. Ñuha gīda. Ñuha valzȳrys. Naejot iōragon ondoso se support. Naejot cherish se jorrāelagon.

Syt se rest hen ñuha tubissa se beyond, ēva se mōris hen jēda.

īlva ānogar, hēnkirī, binding īlva isse bisa ābrar se se hembar. Iā bond daor vala kessa qūvy apart.

I take you now, Aemond Targaryen, as my one. My equal. My husband. To stand by and support. To cherish and love. For the rest of my days and beyond, until the end of time. Our blood, together, binding us in this life and the next. A bond no man will tear apart.

Rytsas kepa. Skoriot iksis muña?

Hello father. Where is mother?

Valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys

Husband and wife

Rytsas Vhagar

Hello Vhagar

ñuha prūmia

my heart

i hope you all loved this family feels chapter because the next one... i'm just gonna apologize in advance because the next one is a DOOZY.

forever thankful for every single kudos, comment, and read this story has gotten. you all rock my world! xx

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen smut #ysilla targaryen #i had all and then most of you / some and now none of you

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alj4890 · 11 months

Text

Just You and Me

(Prince Ellis Rhys x Emily Beaumont) in a Choices The Royal Romance *While We're Young AU* drabble

Thirty Kisses in Thirty Days Challenge with the prompt: a kiss given between ocean waves.

Rating G for the fluffiest of fluff.

A/N It's been a really, really long time since I last wrote for these two. Ellis is the younger son of Liam and Riley while Emily is Maxwell's youngest child. In this AU, they have been best friends. Though the series hasn't caught up to this point 😬 here's a glimpse of what their relationship will eventually become 😉

@krsnlove @hopelessromantic1352 @lodberg @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @sirbeepsalot

Masterlist

On a private beach, Cordonia...

"Is it just us today?" Emily asked.

"Just you and me." Ellis fluffed out a blanket they could lay on.

He dug around in a bag for their needed items for an afternoon at the beach.

Emily eyed the expanse of empty sand.

"I would have thought some of the others would want to come along."

She dropped to her knees behind him, reached for some sunblock, and began to rub it into his back.

Ellis's eyes drooped closed at the feeling of her massaging his sore muscles. After weeks of polo matches followed by numerous council meetings, the young prince needed a day like this.

He couldn't think of a more perfect person to spend time with at the beach than Lady Emily Beaumont.

Which might be why Ellis intentionally forgot to invite their older siblings and friends...

"There we go." Emily crawled around until she was in front of him. "Now get my back for me, please."

Ellis did as asked. His hands lingered along her smooth skin, drawing lazy circles in the process. His lips curved as he drew their initials within a heart in the white cream.

"That tickles!" Emily squirmed under his hands.

He quickly smoothed the sunblock before she could question what he was doing back there.

The two finished up covering their bodies with another layer of protection then flopped back on the blanket.

"Why does it feel so good out here?" She muttered with a yawn.

"Because we've been cooped up inside the palace for so long." He reminded her.

"I guess we have."

She turned on her side to look at him. Emily's eyes traced along his profile. They next moved down to his chest rising and falling slowly with deep breaths.

Without opening his eyes, he grinned to himself.

"I know what you're doing and it isn't going to work." He mumbled.

"Me?" She replied in an overly dramatic, innocent fashion. "Why, whatever could you mean?"

"You're thinking about how to get me into the water." He cracked open his eyes to see her dimples deepening. "I demand, as a prince of Cordonia, to be allowed at least one lazy nap in the sun before jumping in."

Emily sighed and returned back to her former position. She stretched her arms over her head while also lifting each leg in various positions. She held the poses for the count of twenty before doing another. After years of ballet, she couldn't relax properly without going through the simple exercises.

Ellis watched her do each one. His attention drifted along her lithe body being pulled taught then released.

With a final stretch, she closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

She let out a startled yelp that turned into a laugh when Ellis rolled over on top of her.

"Excuse me, your highness," she teased, "but you're blocking the sun."

"Am I?" He rubbed his nose against hers. "Are you certain?"

"I'm pretty sure you are." She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Then as a gentleman, I should move, shouldn't I?"

"You've always been a gentleman."

"I try." He winked at her.

"No, you don't. You succeed. It's a part of your nature." Her hands rubbed up and down his back. "That's why all the ladies love you. You're so considerate."

"Is that the reason?" He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Mmhmm." Her eyes closed as he moved to kiss her other cheek. "There are other reasons too."

"I don't really care about what those other ladies love." He murmured against her lips.

"No?"

"No."

"Oh." She pressed his body close to her as their mouths moved over each other's.

She loved how easily they moved into this new relationship. After years of only seeing each other in a "friends only" light, once the blinders were removed over how perfect they would be as a couple, neither hesitated to take that next step.

Emily had been with enough jerks over the years to know how incredibly special it was to be loved by someone like Ellis. He was her hopeless romantic. Everything he did for her was in the hopes that he was making her happy. Since she loved to see him smile, she nearly tripped over herself to do the same for him.

Her sister, Nicky, teased her about them being like Pride and Prejudice's Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennett. She loved to apply the quote about the fictional couple, that Mr. Bennet said, to Emily and Ellis.

"I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income."

Emily could see it happening. They both were easy going, always up for whatever anyone else was for, and did all they could for those they loved. For the most part, each possessed the same sunny dispositions along with the tender hearts their fathers were notorious for. It was no wonder they'd always been close since they were so like minded.

This new intimacy though was nothing short of delicious. Her toes curled the moment he deepened the kiss. Each brush of his tongue made the warmth from his touch rival that of the sun.

She loved having him all to herself. She especially loved it now that they were a couple. Everything her prince did brought her nothing short of joy.

Ellis propped himself up on his elbows once the kiss ended and gazed down upon a face he sometimes thought he knew better than his own. He'd always loved her. Being near her lifted his spirits unlike anyone else he knew. She knew him better than his family and their friends. But being in love with her was a whole new experience, one he found had been missing from his life.

She smiled at him, her own eyes tracing the features of his handsome face.

"Weren't you about to take a nap?" She teased.

"And waste time alone with you?" He shook his head before pushing off of her.

She giggled when he lifted her off the blanket and carried her over his shoulder towards the ocean.

"Ellis! Don't--"

He dropped her into the water.

Emily shot up, still laughing as she brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Now you've done it!" Her attempt to sound sinister was ruined with her delighted smile.

Ellis caught her in his arms when she launched herself at him. He laughed over her failed attempts to knock him under the water.

"Give up, Em." He locked her arms behind her back. "You've never been able to beat me at sparring."

"Maybe because I'm more of a lover than a fighter." She reminded him.

"I always loved that about you." Ellis told her.

"Really?" She relaxed against him as they bobbed along the waves. "You don't wish I was a little tougher?"

"Why would I wish for something like that?" He asked.

"I don't know. I mean you are a prince."

"So?"

"So, princes should have protection just like princesses do. Right?"

"That's what the guards are for, sweetheart."

"I know that." She rolled her eyes at the obvious. "But, I've heard the stories about your parents. Aunt Riley was always ready to fight to protect your father. Shouldn't I be able to do that for you?"

Ellis cuddled her close. "Emily, you already give me what I need. All I want, all I ever wanted, was someone I could love with my entire heart and the ability to rest in knowing that she loved me with hers."

"No worries there." She pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You've had my heart from the start, Ellis." Her eyes held his. "And you always will."

Ellis clutched her to him as her words sparked desire through him. Just as he began to get lost in her next kiss, a wave knocked them under the water.

They both struggled to stand up, sputtering and laughing at their partially drowned states.

"I think that's a sign from nature that we should go do that nap you were talking about." Emily took his hand and tugged him back to shore.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to nap within my arms?" He asked.

"Just try and stop me." She snuggled within his embrace once they were back on the blanket. "We Beaumont's are known for latching on with the grip of a squid."

Emily pressed another kiss to his cheek.

"There's no escape once I have my arms around you." She teased.

Ellis returned her kiss, relaxing once more in the sunlight.

"Trust me, Em. I have no desire to ever escape you."

#thirty kisses in thirty days #prince ellis rhys x emily beaumont #while we're young a/u #choices trr #the royal romance #trr future #choices the royal romance #choices the stories you play

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witch-hazels-musings · 2 years

Note

heya hazel!! i love everything about the new event! i love the layout and the ideas behind it! you’re so talented and i’m so incredibly happy to be able to call you a friend!

now.. ahem.. enough buttering you up (for now!!) and onto my request!! 🥺

may i have a pull of justice, the emperor and the empress for kazuha please? i’m excited to see what you come up with!!

Justice (empathy), The Emperor (comfort), The Empress (domestic) :: kazuha x gn reader | neutral fate

warning: fluff, domestic comfort, cuddling, naps

Nothing compared the the feeling of him, the comfort of him, the smell of him as you let your cheek rest on his chest. His arm wrapped around you, fingers absentmindedly brushing against your back while you moved in closer. Your leg draped over his as if it were the most natural thing to do. Happily, you stretched against him, your body trembling at the pleasant feeling. When you started you settle, you reaffirmed there was no better feeling than cuddling with him.

A soft chuckle drew your attention as you slipped your feet around his ankle, holding him close. “Getting comfortable I see,” he hummed, palm flush against your back to keep you close even in your gleeful movement.

“Hehe, yes,” you explained with a smile, your palm moving to the warmth of his chest as you burrowed your face further into him. The steady sound of his heartbeat made you practically purr in contentment.

Gentle rain covered the earth, it collided with the roof in a relaxing melody while the wind slipped lazily in through the open shoji doors. You were thankful for the futon you’d rolled out earlier, grateful for the thick blankets that covered you but, even more than that, you cherished the man laying next to you as he placed a loving kiss against your brow.

Today was the perfect day to lazy about, and though you weren’t a sun-warmed rock, you were pleased Kazuha found comfort near you anyway.

“Though it saddens me to say,” Kazuha began with a deep breath through his nose, “I should return to th-”

“Nooo!” You wrapped your arm around him and pulled him closer, your legs turning into a trap to keep him still. He didn’t even need to finish his thought, you knew what he was going to say but you weren’t ready for him to say it.

“y/n -”

“Don’t go yet,” you pouted, face rubbing against him as you shook your head. The rain picked up, or maybe you were just hoping it did to offer him another excuse to stay. He was so comfortable and you were just thinking about how perfect it would be to rest beside him until the rain stopped. “Please.”

You waited with bated breath for his reply. Eyes closed, muscles tense as they hugged tighter, heart pounding to hear him speak. Of course, you’d be alright if he did end up leaving but you desperately hoped he wouldn’t. He was almost always on the road. Wandering here and there as if the wind dictated his movements more than his mind did. You loved that about him but you also missed him terribly and, not that you had him in your arms, you didn’t want to let him leave.

“The calling of midday rain provides a restless energy for action ...” Kazuha mused in his soothing voice. The sound caused you to still and lift your face to his. When he looked at you, the fluttering of your heart reminded you just how much you loved him, “but the arms of ones lover returns us to our center.” His hand moved to your arm as he wiggled further under the covers. “Let us rest ourselves a while.”

His decision made you so happy but you hardly had a chance to tell him because as soon as you finished hugging him, he was already half asleep.

Kazuha’s eyes closed, his lips lifted into a calm, peaceful smile, and his breathing eased into slow, relaxed breaths. You were surprised by how quickly he was able to do that! It unfair, really. If only you could fall asleep as fast as he was but, no matter how deep his slumber became, he never let you go.

You moved your head with an accepting sigh and listened to the sound of his beating heart pounded in your ear. It was relaxing to feel him this close, to hear him breathe and sway on his dreams. As carefully as you could, you pressed a kiss to his chest, a smile tugging at your lips as he hummed from the contact.

Soon, you settled and began to gaze across the garden beyond the doors. The wind seemed to slow but the rain continued to fall. It’s droplets landing on the lush, green plants peeking out from under the deck. The small pool filled with plump koi fish rippled endlessly against the drops of cool water.

The world just outside the room seemed to still until it’s calmness brought your heavy eyes to close and the warmth of Kazuha eased you into a relaxing, peaceful sleep.

Fate Made Event (May8-31) | Anthology | @yandere-romanticaa

#hazelsevents #fate made #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #kazuha genshin impact #kazuha #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x gn reader

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mrhunnabber · 1 year

Text

Momo Yaoyurozu x Fem OC

Author-kun🥸~ I'm really bored rn and decided I'd give writing a try, please note this is my first time writing so have your expectations lower than Mineta's rizz.

Chaotic shuffling and thrashing eminated from Khalil's bedroom, she was extremely late, her room becoming more of a disorderly mess as she scampered through it frantically, items knocking to the carpeted floor as she grasped at toiletries rushing off to the bathroom

30 minutes to get to class depleting seemingly quick, and time does favours does for no one. Having accidentally delayed one too many alarms she now had to prepare and arrive to school within that minimal timeframe

Maybe she'd be less anxious, making her more presice with her erratic actions if she wasn't on her last strike.

Aizawa had warned her if she were late to his class another time she'd face unspeakable repercussions, and knowing her professor she didn't dare think of what grueling punishment she'd go through

Hopping about as she fought to pull up her uniform trousers and buckling her belt before she grabs her bag stuffing it with books and stationery. Having everything she assumes she needs, she struggled to find only one thing

"Shit! where the hell are my keys!?" She murmured out of breath, with a shaky grasp on her phone, the screen displayed it was now 09:26

Fuck this

Having attained her hero licence, students still aren't permitted to use their quirks outside of Patrol, Highschool or University but she didn't have much of a choice right now

She cracked open her bedroom window, the cool breeze brushing against her hot skin,

"Well here goes nothing"

Swan diving out of her 2 story household, she leaps, landing onto the neighbours roof

"Hey!!" She hears her elderly neighbour screech at her from her well kept garden, waving an irritated fist clutching tightly onto pruning shears at the girl

"Sorry, Mrs Silverton.." she apologized shortly, before leaping off another roof, her wings manifesting as she swiftly glides her way to UA

"Bro, where's Khalil?" Hanta asked his classmates as he took his seat "Beats me, probably overslept again" Denki accurately theorised, his chair squeaking as he turned it side to side, hands leisurely cupping the back of his head

"What if she's not feeling well.." said a genuinely concerned Momo, who kept glancing at the empty stool next to her "Momo, she does this every time and remember how Aizawa threatened her" Mina scoffed in amusement "I wonder what her punishment will be" snickered Kyouka along

And on cue their professor strolled in with his usual indolent features, a quick glance up at the seats he could immediately identify Hayashi hadn't arrived yet, again.

Suddenly the door swung open to reveal a heavily panting Khalil, her chest rose and fell heavily attempting to suck up as much air as possible to ease her boiling lungs, her dark skin glistening, moist from the beads of sweat the rolled down her sharp jaw, her dreadlocks an unruly mess and her appearance deshevled.

The bell rang that instant, she calmly drew another deep breath, dusting off her uniform white shirt

"You're running on thin ice, Hayashi" Aizawa addressed, as the girl stretched "Deepest apologies, Sir. But I'm actually on time, perfectly, on time" she stated, voice laced with confidence "Just go sit down" muttered shaking his head in defeat, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so

She was one of the most hard headed pupils he'd ever had both the pleasure and dismay of teaching.

When she put her mind to it, she excelled way past his expectations and was one of the top students, so the only real reason he isn't snapping at her for being playful is because she was very intelligent and determined, but that didn't always excuse her lazy tendencies.

She waltz past Aizawa cockily, revelling in the fact she made it just in time as she fixed up her appearance on her way to her seat

Walking up a few stairs she got dapped up by Hanta who was impressed at the girls arrival.

"Ugh" Aizawa sighed before starting today's lesson "Morning students" his monotone voice rung through the quiet auditorium

As the girl dropped down and slouched back into her chair a certain girl was not amused by her antics

"Khalil, you know you could've been late and gotten into a lot of trouble" Momo murmured in a hushed tone, "Don't worry about it, doll, in the end I made it, didn't I?" She responded as she sat straight, her body slightly turned to face Momo.

"Luckily so, you have to stop being so careless" her voice was firm and slightly irritated she wasn't taking her seriously "Sure thing, princess. I swear I'm gonna be a changed Man starting tomorrow" she winked as she did a salute, the girl rolling her eyes, not amused.

"You quite literally said that yesterday" Momo wasn't buying it "Ah, but I did change just not for the better" She looked forward after giving her a cheeky smirk

Momo rolled her eyes, her gaze finding her teachers form pacing slightly as he explained today's lesson which she should've been paying attention to instead of prattling aimlessly with Khalil

Momo glanced at Khalil yet again, fixated on how her long inked fingers raked through her hair brushing it back, giving her a pleasing view of her side profile. Her breathing was now becoming steady as her attention was fully fixated on their professor, she rolled her sleeves up like usual, her tattooed forearms coming into to view, getting special attention of their own

The black haired girls leering slowly moved back up to her face, just for her own face to flush in warmth, painting her cheeks a bright pink hue when her gaze locked with Khalil who had been fully aware of her checking her out, a sly grin tugged at her two toned lips, the girl not prepared for any snarky remarks quickly looked forward.

Just as she found her composure, it shattered when she felt her hand brush against her thigh, pinky inviting it's under her skirt

Heat crept up her throat as her head snapped to Khalil, who wasn't even facing her, thankfully so, "Wh-wha-" Momo stuttered "Can you lend me a pen? I forgot mine" She faced the beat faced girl, her smirk growing "Are you serious? N-no, you still haven't returned the last 4"

She gasped under her breath when the grip on her thigh tightened, sliding a little further up causing butterflies to erupt in her belly

"Please?" She put on faux innocence, her pink bottom lip pursing slightly "Fine" she caved, quickly handed her the pen, swatting her hand off her thigh

"Appreciate it, doll" she winked again, facing forward and beginning to scribble down notes along with Mr Aizawa

Momo huffed a breath of relief, her tight chest loosened as she did the same, trying to distract her mind from the lingering sensation of where her hand once was, the thought making her thighs slightly clench.

Meme for your troubles~🥸

#Spotify #bnha #mha x oc #poc ocs #bnha wlw zine #mha #momo yaoyaruzo #momo yaoyurozu x fem oc #momo x poc oc

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venus-vermillion01 · 2 years

Text

Eternal Rest (Series. Ryomen x Reader ) Chapter 1: Lamp post

Author’s Note: Hey yall! This is my first chapter to my series, please excuse the edits, it was a draft but I got lazy on editing it properly. :D. Either way I hope yall enjoy this journey and I hope this series will last long. I post pretty slow but I will do my best to make it consistent as possible.

Summary:From the Feudal era and since the beggining, it was always known that the King of Curses roamed the land, tormenting the many and causing destruction. For where ever he went there was always a mysterious curse being by his side, his right hand, queen and mother of curses (YN) (L/N). It was all perfect in her eyes till a certain promiscuous human slithered into her King’s eyes. Why did things go so terribly wrong? So wrong that it was worth ripping her heart out? Reincarnation, shall commence.

The fresh breeze followed by the scattering of falling leaves felt strangely serene. Ahh yes this memory. For once Sukuna didn't have to worry about those pestering sorcerers as he lazily laid on the wooden floor, gazing at the female curse in front of him. She sat in front of him as he watched her fingers meticulously clean their weapons of blood, noticeably taking more time on his than her own.

It was moments like this he wished would last much longer. Now looking back, he never did appreciate the beauty she held. Her figure, her hair, intricate symbols that were covered by the dark green yukata she repeatedly wore. It was a gift from him after he noticed her old one was worn out. He was too infatuated with a human to notice your loving gazes and devotion to him. A human woman who in the end would prove to be disloyal. A human that held no actual value when being compared to a being such as themselves.

If he could turn back the clock he would, yet that is in the past now. A curse like himself cannot be riddled with guilt. In the end he suffered the consequences of his actions, now forced to spend eternity alone, reminiscing of the past was all that was keeping him from going insane. He laughed at the notion. To be cursed by insanity.

“Forever till the end my king,” her soothing voice instantly drew his attention.

He saw her lips morph into a smile and eyes shine with genuine content at the declaration. Her promise. He reached out to touch her, just to feel some semblance of her warmth against his fingers would satisfy his hunger.

My queen, he thought as his finger tips barely grazed the sleeve of her dress, it all instantly disappeared into smoke. The illusion was broken.

He scoffed in annoyance as he sat on his bony throne, trapped within his innate domain in the body of his vessel.

“Wait my love. I will find you,”he mumbled out.

“What was that Sukuna?” Yuji asked.

“Shut it!”

For some strange reason, time felt as if it slowed down. Trickling densely like an hourglass as you felt the ice cold liquid overpower your senses. It felt shocking. Floating in a void.

It’s black, everything around you except for the strange dimly lighted surface emitting a sickly green.

How long have I been here? Seconds. A heart wrenching pain bloomed in your chest, you gasped only allowing the strange water to flood your mouth.

No it hasn’t, it’s been years.

You screamed in agony, only for it to be muffled by the water.

Tears rolled down your eyes, blending into the black water. His smile, his face, and those prominent black symbols.

His hand, covered in thick black liquid holding a glowing crystal. Fragments of memories that come and go, haunting you endlessly. Reminding you were such a fool back then.

Why me?

…

“ Wake up, wake up,” a girl's voice woke you up as she gently shook your shoulder.

You groaned as you lifted your head from the desk, feeling like your head was full of cotton.

. “ You were pretty out of it. Didn’t you sleep well?” your friend, Mayu, asked.

You didn’t answer while still waking from that dream. Was it even a dream, it felt way too real. A chill ran up your spine just thinking about that black endless void.

“Come on, it’s getting late and I think we studied long enough,” Mayu suggested with a bright smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s just I keep on having,”

“ The same dream,” Mayu finished your sentence.

You nodded your head in confirmation as you gathered your stationary and followed her to the doorway.

“I think your just over stressing about stuff. Dreams tend to show our deepest troubles, wishes,” she said with certainty. It didn’t settle right with you. “Or they can be memories of a past life, I’m telling you Mai that they feel too real. It almost feels like an out of body experience,” you explained, your eyebrows pinched together as you recalled that chilling snippet of the dream. You were so lost in thought , Mayu suddenly pulled your jacket back to stop you from walking into the bustling street.

“ Aren’t you paying attention? Be careful please,”she said concerned.

Mayu instantly caught onto your hints of discomfort and unusual aloofness. she’s known you forever and she’s known you to be strong, carefree and not little things bother you. So to see you being plagued by this worried her.

“Tell me about it then,”

“What?” you deadpanned, not because you weren’t paying attention but it came to you that you never really explained the content of your dream clearly to Mai.

“Yes, I want to know, maybe I can help you decipher it and we can find the root of the problem together,” Mai Suggested.

You could t help but smile. “Oh Mai, what would I do without you?” You joked. “I don’t know, probably get lost,” she snickered. You both giggled as you two hopped onto the train, taking two empty seats near the doorway.

“So in my dream sometimes I can see myself, but it’s not really me, I think. I look … older, different and I’m sad,” explaining it out loud just made it sound like any other dream , but you purposefully left out some of the details. “ Do you feel sad? In your dream?”

“No…” pondering on how exactly to describe it. “I feel “her” sadness, like it’s just amplified around her or me … look all know is that I’m underwater in this black river with green pool lights and then that’s not the weirdest part?” You quickly explained.

Mai gave you a curious look. “What’s the weirdest part?”

As you were to answer, the chimes rang through the intercom signaling your stop.

“Tell me tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Mai said as you walked onto the platform.

“I will. Get home safe,” you called out, waving her goodbye as the train doors closed.

A strange prickling sensation came over your head making you wince. “ Man what is up with me these days,” you said to yourself, trudging up the dirty subway stairs onto the familiar streets you used to get home.

You made your trek around the crowded streets, passing delicious food vendors, the smoke and the illuminating fluorescent lights that the arcades gave off. The same tv store you passed every day caught your attention. Standing in front of the display window with many bright screens were on the same news channel. “On today's news, officers have reported to have found another body of a young girl within the district. This is the second case of a missing person found dead within the last 3 days. Officers say that the culprit seems to be targeting young adolescent girls and young women. It is advised that all should avoid staying out late and stay within crowded public areas. Detectives have described the e,” the news reporter was abruptly interrupted by some static interference. Despite the strange chill you got, you continued moving forward.

“What’s the weirdest part?” Mais voices echoed in your head. Well the fact that when you watch from afar, older you have pretty black tattoos across your face, not to mention that your hair is white as snow. A far cry from your ( h/c) . And you're wearing a torn kimono, revealing a portion of your chest… a gaping hole where your heart should be.

Your stomach twisted as you can still her yells and cries for help. Maybe that’s my future, that thought made your heart stop for a moment. “ What am I thinking ? Why do I do this to myself ?” Think happy thoughts like Tokyo and what are you going to cook for dinner? Putting a little hop into your step to trick yourself into a better mood. Now that you think of it, your dreams started when you encountered that pink haired boy a couple of months ago.

The lights of the lamp post brightened the park path, until you reached a certain point. They were dead , leaving one side completely illuminated and the other dark. That prickling feeling shot through your head and you noticed something, it was absolutely quiet, no clicks from grasshoppers or birds chirping. The sound of rushing cars from the streets behind you have eerily disappeared.

Your feet felt like lead as your heart rapidly beat against your chest. Something isn’t right. The bleak obsidian forest felt ominous, it even felt like the shadows were getting darker and growing?

What did that news lady say again,“Stay within crowded public areas.”

Your instincts told you better, you turned on your heel to walk back.

Then that sensation of needles amplified and the once warm outside felt like it dropped in temperature. Your heart sank as you heard a whisper behind you. Your throat felt closed and you were stuck in place,frozen by the unknown presence behind you. “Okasan,” it whispered once more but this time it tickled your ear.

There was no time to scream as you were pulled into the dark shadows . There was none of your belongings left behind on the path as if nothing happened .

...

A bright blue light appeared at the surface, a startling contrast that wasn’t you haven’t seen before. It beckoned you to come for it. “Okasan,” you can faintly hear. Unconsciously, you reached for it.

…

It all happened so fast, it was unfathomable leaving you gasping, streams of tears across your face as you felt a strange object being shoved down your windpipe.

Your mouth was pried open by something you only see in nightmares. Your strength was nothing compared to this thing, using all your might to push its nimbly hand away from your face but to no avail. Whatever little crystal it placed into your mouth, you refused to swallow. The creature was already one step ahead, clamping your mouth shut and covering your nose with the other.

In the distance you can hear havoc and growls, people yelling.

Suffocating, the impending pain and exhaustion were high, and your resolve was depleting. The sound of growls, tremors were slowly being drowned out. Why is this happening to me? Did I ever do something to deserve this?

The little crystal felt uncomfortable as it traveled down your throat. An electrifying sensation traveled through your body as spots speckled your sight, and your surroundings began to cave in.

…

A melodious, mischievous laugh echoed as you drifted, children's laughter. Oh how you missed them.

A bright blue light appeared at the surface, a startling contrast that you haven’t seen before. It beckoned you to come for it. “Okasan,” you can faintly hear. Unconsciously you reached for it just the bright light blinded your sight. Your peripheral vision caught a glimpse of someone as you were being pulled into the light while they were being dragged into your abyss.

…

Pain. That’s all you can process as a blood curdling scream escapes your lungs, coughing and gasping for air after coming out of that purgatory state.

“It's time to wake up, mother ,” an all too familiar voice gently spoke followed by a small whine . As your vision cleared the first thing you are greeted with is the spindly long figure curse you knew all too well. How could you forget those adoring gold eyes and the lopsided jagged smile he presented you with, he is your son after all. Tears continued to seep out of your eyes, as the pain slowly diminished and relief blossomed instead.

“Strife,” you said in affirmation as he gently placed you on your feet. It was all clear to you now, the lights of tall buildings, the strange noises that filled the air and the clothing you wore.

“I’ve been reincarnated,” you said as you looked into the cloudy night sky. The feeling of the breeze hit you, it felt sweet to be in the open once again, spreading your arms as if to embrace the sky. Gently twirling in it like if you were dancing with it.

A laugh bubbles within your throat, you couldn’t help it.

“Finally I am free from my imprisonment!!” You yelled into the air, a smile plagued by insanity drawn across your face. Basking in the light was exhilarating, the air against your warm skin.

“Oh how I missed the human realm,” you spoke soothingly to Strife as you gently caressed his large face. Setting your forehead to touch his, “ And now that I am here, we have to find the others,”

Strife let out a low hum in approval. “Mother, there is something you must know before we look for the others,” he said.

“ And what is that?”

“The sorcerer’s will come for you,”Strife said as a snarl escaped his mouth.

“Mhhhh, I figured as much. Do you have anything in mind?”

Strife eyebrows knitted as he thought, a smile fell across your face. Just like always. Thinking about everything.

One moment everything was like the old days until you noticed his long ears perked up, twitching immediately sending him to put a defensive stance in front of you. “ What is wrong?”

“THAT cursed user is here,” he hissed while his black fur began to stand on its ends. Whoever this sorcerer must be strong, in other words will be a nuisance to you. A sigh left your mouth. “And I just woke up.”you whined.

.“Mhhhh, then do what you have to do?” you said. Seeing Strife's mischievous grin only meant one thing, you weren’t going to like it.

...

Sukuna continued to ignore the bickering between the brat and his friends. Discussing another case of a potential curse causing the death of humans. He closed his eyes and attempted to return to his memories. His eyes shot open when he felt a ripple of curse energy, again. This is the second time. The first time it occurred a few months ago followed a smaller wave, it slightly drew his attention even as he resided within the brats body, he chose to ignore it. It was nothing compared to his power yet he couldn’t shake the strange familiarity that curse energy brought, it was like he had forgotten someone’s name but couldn’t recall who it was. It didn’t matter to him in the end as he had no need for such miscellaneous things.

That was until the second ripple occurred shortly after dark. Unlike the first one, it held more energy causing Yuji and Kugisaki to stop whatever they were doing. It was heavy with malice and expanded much farther, warning other smaller curses to leave. An energy dense similar to his own. It couldn’t be, no. A rush of excitement enthralled him as a wicked smile crept onto Sukuna’s face. He could practically taste the distinct aura, bitter yet sweet just as he remembered. It took every ounce of self control not to burst into laughter as he pinpointed what district the curse energy was coming from. It was all making sense now. Don’t worry, my love. Soon we will be reunited.

#Sukuna x reader Historical AU Queen of curses Sukuna x curse reader jjk

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vinjaryou · 1 year

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warm, lazy morning coffee & serenade~ ♥♥

vincent/reilena, based on a visual i get whenever i hear this particular cover of his theme

----

She woke up alone, the blanket rumpled on his side, the ghost of a kiss still warm on her cheek. Violet opened slowly, a hand raking through disheveled dark auburn hair as she sat up with a yawn, arms stretching over her head with a soft “mmnh.”

A slight head tilt, a raised brow as she listened closely, hearing something else other than the twittering birds outside.

Soft strings echoing through the cabin.

A soft smile as she tossed the covers side, Reilena drew up the loose right strap of her faded blue nightgown as she climbed out of bed, walking out of the bedroom with another soft yawn.

The music was slightly louder, and a few more seconds of listening told her where it was coming from. A silent giggle as she headed for the kitchen, straight for the coffee machine. Another quiet laugh at a missed note, a hushed grunt, as she filled the machine, taking their mugs down with a sigh as the scent of coffee filled the room.

Cream and sugar set on the counter as the machine clicked off, Reilena poured fresh coffee into both mugs, lightly biting her lip as she let a faint sway run through her body, in time to his strumming.

Vincent liked his coffee a touch sweeter than hers, and a final spoonful of sugar was added to his mug, the cream replaced in the fridge once both drinks were stirred to perfection.

Her footsteps were nearly silent on the wooden floors as she strode down the hall to his studio, the music taking on a softer intensity.

She paused in the doorway with a tender smile, simply taking in the view.

He sat before an easel with a fresh canvas, yet he was turned away from it, a set of pencils on a small folding table. Their weapons – both his firearms and her blades – were displayed on a wall, empty spaces denoting the ones they currently carried.

Vincent still wore the black satin pajamas he’d gone to bed in, though by the drape of his shirt she knew it was undone, and as she watched, his right foot tapped out the beat of the tune he was playing. Black hair cascaded down his back, some still draped over his right shoulder, and listening closely she could hear him singing wordlessly under his breath.

Warmth flooded her face as she sighed softly, walking quietly into the studio. Their mugs were set on the table, beside the set of sketching pencils, and she brushed his hair over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck. Smiling against warm skin when she heard a husky chuckle, she rested her chin on his shoulder, watching fingers fly over guitar strings.

Seconds later he strummed a final note, letting it linger in the air as he turned to nuzzle Reilena’s hair, sighing deeply as she kissed his neck again.

Fingers sifted into her hair, and she drew back, crimson meeting violet over soft smiles. Noses brushed against each other, and then he leaned in, lips closing over hers in a gentle, passionate kiss.

----

unedited, as i wrote this in Helly’s notes (Helly is my phone) and originally posted it on the bird app earlier today, so please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors

♥

#final fantasy vii #vincent valentine #original character #canon x oc #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #ff7 #vinrei #just a little peek into a morning at his place post-canon #the initial image i always have is him finger-picking the guitar with his claws while she's snuggled up behind him listening #and it ends with the tender kiss and a murmured greeting

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bushs-world · 2 years

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MoM spoilers under the cut

*there is some rant below so read at your own risk

So I finally saw MoM and I am not quite unimpressed. I actually had high expectations from this movie but honestly it was very underwhelming. It was kind of all over the place

Now the movie definitely had some plus points. There were amazing visuals in the movie. The special effects were off the charts. Rachel McAdams rocked as Christine. Benedict Cumberbatch was good. I loved America Chavez and Wong was a sweetheart as always. And Elizabeth Olsen nailed her performance as an unhinged Wanda. She definitely gave me Daenerys Targaryen vibes, especially when she entered the darkhold temple and the monsters bowed down before her. But the story was a mess. Here's some of my critiques:

• I feel Wanda's face-heel turn was too drastic, lazy and messed up her character arc from Wandavision. WV had its problems but it did show Wanda reconciling with her grief and freeing the people of Westview once she was forced to see the reality of what she was doing. For her to go from someone who sacrificed her (albeit fake) family because she realised she hurt people to sending monsters after Chavez and not caring if she dies is too drastic change imo. Worst of all this change is supposed to happen offscreen. And using the darkhold as an excuse to justify her sudden turn to villiany was plain lazy. MCU Wanda definitely had a dark side, which would have been interesting to explore but the MCU just wasted it. I personally would have preferred if they showed Wanda slipping into madness and then becoming unhinged.

• Can somebody please explain to me why Doctor Strange is so hated across all universes? Like the movie tried to paint him as a catalyst for destruction but honestly what was his fault? They just kept throwing lines like all you Stranges are the same. You all can't be trusted. The biggest threat to the multiverse is you. We had to kill Strange. Is it because he bends the rules? Or because he is willing to use the dark magic and forbidden spells? Or because he is practical and places importance on the greater good than individual lives? Everytime he broke a rule or used a forbidden piece of magic, it was for someone else's benefit. Isn't that hypocrisy given that the Ancient One also drew energy from the dark dimension, why is Stephen blamed when he literally does it because it is his last resort, and because he can't find another way. Stephen is just blamed for everything because he is slightly overconfident, guarded and willing to bend rules, which are just stupid in the first place.

• Talking of Strange, what was his character arc in the movie? It's his movie, how did he grow? What lessons did he learn? The only character development I saw was bowing down to the sorcerer supreme and keeping away the watch to symbolise the end of his relationship with Christine. Strange didn't have a character arc at all, this was basically a plot driven movie. What about his hands?

• Why the hell did Strange and the sorcerers of Kamar Taj not keep Wanda under their guidance after knowing what she did in Westview? How could you let her be all alone especially after such a big incident?

• Can Marvel stop bringing beloved characters only for fan service and then quickly disposing them off. The whole Illuminati scene kind of felt like a cheap fanservice to bring in fans, only for them to not matter. Us fans get excited about the cameos only for them to be quickly discarded. They did it in Hawkeye with Kingpin, and now the Illuminati. If they don't add to the story, just let it be.

• Also Marvel stop using deaths for shock factor. Its just getting boring now. You brought in Captain Carter, Maria Rambeau as Captain Marvel, Black Bolt, Professor X and most importantly John Krasanki as Reed Richards only to kill them off in a few minutes 😡😡. Especially when we know John will return in Fantastic 4 (I guess). Like that's idiotic and annoying. I think Loki series was the only one able to handle character introduction before character introduction properly.

• Where the hell did the concept of variants go away? You establish in Loki and NWH that variants are their own different persons with their own stories yet every single doctor strange variant had near identical personalities. What happened to let's learn from our variants and grow like in Loki and NWH? Every single Strange is essentially the same just with different costumes. And when two Strange do meet, there is no exploration of their differences, no delving into their mistakes, just a piano keys fight. ???

• Also why use the concept of multiverse when you weren't going to explore the idea of different realities and how they can interact and imbalance each other. And how many times are you going to reintroduce the concept of multiverse and add in new rules? Why isn't Marvel keeping continuity?

• Where the hell did the entire premise of Loki series go? And how could Chavez visit 72 universes when there is supposed to be a sacred timeline? (or I am getting confused)

• Also, I don't know why but I couldn't connect with Wanda's grief the way I could connect in WV. Like I couldn't feel her loneliness, her pain, even her motherly love towards Billy and Tommy. Maybe that's just me but this movie didn't pull my heart's strings like WV did.

• And lastly, what was this ending? It felt so rushed and didn't quite fit. Like you spend the whole movie showing Wanda relentlessly trying to get her children back then suddenly leaving. I feel the scene didn't deliver the emotional payoff it needed. Compare that to WV's last scene. It still moves me to tears.

I am not saying the movie is horrible. In fact, it is quite enjoyable atleast as a one time watch. It also has some jumpscare moments. But I guess I was expecting something totally different.

#doctor strange spoilers #mom spoilers #doctor strange multiverse of madness spoilers #rant #discourse #doctor strange multiverse of madness discourse

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maqqy96 · 1 year

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A Daedra Named Desire Author Update

Things have been tough lately on the creative front for just about everyone I know. Between AI theft of work, N*F*T bullshit, and just about anything else that's happened in the past 5 years has all but drained any desire to work on just about anything for me.

Unfortunately, there's another layer to it that I don't think I ever put into words, so I'd like to do that here. Feel free to skip right on past all this, as it all has to do with surviving an abusive relationship.

Way back in the year of 2003, I started a webcomic. It was a horrible premises, had little to no cohesive plot, the art varied wildly, and the update schedule was even worse, but I was still so proud of it! Slowly, I started treating it as a real project rather than a lark. It got a little better, though it still had plot holes big enough to drive a bus through. I updated semi-regularly, and started building a readership. In 2006, I met a guy, and as time rolled onward into 2009, I married him. All seemed well. He knew I drew the comic, and he made enough at his job that he encouraged me to stay at home and work solely on my comics. I was thrilled and believed I was living the dream! So my comic became my full time work, and though it was still wonky and only had a small following, my readers were kind, encouraging, and above all, patient with my sometimes scatter-brain. I told myself there were no more excuses: I needed to pick an update schedule and keep to it. So I made it my goal to update M-W-F. And I did just that.

-Please note that I'm no saint and that I'm not trying to vilify him; we both did things that brought our relationship to an end. I missed a lot of cues because I was hyper-focused on my comic. This is just my viewpoint.-

Fast forward again. After a few years, our relationship was beginning to sour. He resented the fact that I sat on my ass all day and did 'nothing'. He wanted me to handle all the errands, cleaning, cooking, etc. I already was doing it, so I was a little confused, but I put more effort into it. Began meal-planning, cooking more, made sure the home was spotless, etc. I missed a few updates because of it, but again, my readership was patient. I started devoting the mornings and afternoons to doing the housework and errands, and spent evenings doing comic work. From the moment the sun came up to long after it went down, I was working. It was tough, but I loved the work and I loved him. I still made time for him, but most of the time he came home, ate dinner, and played poker games on the XBox until it was time to go to bed. The computer was set up not far from the TV, so we were together during this time and I saw no problems.

He did.

All of a sudden, he began claiming that I didn't want to spend time cuddling with him. When I pointed out he just played poker games or strategy games like Civ IV, which didn't interest me, he threw a fit. So we compromised and tried to have a movie night each Friday. Sitting on the couch cuddling and being together. But he only wanted to watch movies that interested him. If I put on a movie that I liked and he didn't, he'd eventually wander off or pull out his phone. Needless to say, movie night fizzled out and we went back to our routine.

Eventually, as our relationship began to strain, he brought up my comic. I'd been working on it over 10 years at that point; why wasn't I making money with it? I pointed out that I had sold at conventions up until the recession, and then that avenue dried up for me. Trying to switch to online sales didn't really work, since I had a store and nothing sold. He pointed out other webcomics that were making money at the time and how they updated daily. He accused me of being lazy. I resented it, and pointed out that each page took me 8 to 10 hours to complete. He became convinced that it was because I wasn't trying enough, and eventually comes up with the *brilliant* idea of us doing a joint comic. That's what we needed! I was hesitant, and decided to see how dedicated to this idea he was. So I told him, fine, you write me 5 pages of script, and I'd draw it. He starts telling me his ideas, I tell him to write it down.

Sure enough, he never wrote a single word, but would frequently accuse me of not loving him because why wouldn't I want to take his ideas and use them? They were GENIUS. I never replied when he got like that. However, as my comic continued to gain little attention and floundered along, the doubts he had raised took root in my mind. I began to try and push myself to work on it more, if only to get a backlog of comics so I didn't miss any updates. Missed updates would cost me in the end!

In the end, our relationship burned to the ground and motivation with it. I found out he had been cheating on me, moved back in with my parents, and began going through the process of a divorce. However, the updates to my comic just...stopped. I found all my ideas for it had died, and my motivation was completely gone. So much of that comic had gotten wrapped up in my now failed relationship that I couldn't, even with therapy, unwrap it. I felt like a failure, and my ability to do artwork fizzled and died. ~And now the Fan-Fic relevant info~

It's been almost 10 years since then, and I have barely recovered my ability to draw. Needing a creative outlet, I turned to writing, and found my old passion for it was still there. When 2020 quarantine hit, I challenged myself. Instead of sitting on my butt playing video games all day, I was going to play a little, then write something based on the gameplay. I came up with my current story: A Daedra Named Desire, and I enjoyed it. The first several chapters were witty and great fun. The whole thing was a blast to work on. Did I have a plot? Kinda, but I told myself it'd work out. I also told myself not to let this one fizzle and die; I wanted the joy of finishing a project! Cue three years of working on nothing but. While there are other projects I'd love to focus on, I told myself to finish this one. It'd be good for me in the long run. However, as I'd sometimes re-read the story, I noticed the drag in the middle. Chapters feel bloated because they are just THERE. I forced myself to keep an update schedule and hated myself when I missed one. Sometimes, you have to recognize bad habits and do something about them. As such, I told myself to stop draining myself trying to make a self-imposed goal. Don't post chapters unless you felt it was worthwhile. Right now, I'm stuck on the plot, so I'm trying to find inspiration rather than forcing content out of myself.

So to all those readers who look forward to my work: THANK YOU. You are not the problem; you're the reason I keep going! Comments and likes on my work are truly a balm to my mind on bad days, and I read every single one and love them. Even the more critical ones are appreciated (mean ones are just laughed at and ignored), since I sometimes make glaring mistakes, especially with Lore. At this point, I'm bound and determined to finish this story. Too often I've lost interest and let a story fizzle, only to regret it so much. But I need to stop hurting myself to create sub-par content. So I'm taking a break, stepping back, and giving myself the space needed to tackle this project again when I'm ready. And again, thank you kindly for sticking with me. If you have suggestions, comments, suggestions, or encouragements, please feel free to reach out! You never know when words will inspire someone!

#a daedra named desire #fan fiction #writing #depression #emotional abuse #trigger warning #abuse

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ao719 · 2 years

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Hopeless Hearts

Hopeless Hearts - You Are All For Me (Chapter 24)

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: Two people from two different worlds, both with a grudge against relationships, cross paths and discover an opportunity to get something they both want.

Title Inspiration: Still Falling for You - Ellie Goulding

Warning: This series will contain NSFW material and crude language and conversations. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

A/N: 🍋 This chapter is more of just a smuffy shenanigan filler before the last (🥲) chapter. Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading. Please excuse any errors.

Catch Up Here

Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @gardeningourmet @gibbles82 @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @classylady1234 @texaskitten30 @the-soot-sprite @ladyangel70 @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @txemrn @charlotteg234 @kat-tia801 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @debramcg1106 @gnatbrain @ofpixelsandscribbles @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @alyssalauren @aestheticartsx @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @forallthatitsworth @queenjilian @walker7519 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes

Thirty minutes after Aria’s morning alarm had sounded, she and Liam were tangled in the sheets after catching their breath. Her leg was draped across his hips as the tips of his finger drew lazy shapes against her thigh.

“You’re insatiable,” Aria chuckled, breaking the long bout of comfortable silence.

“You have absolutely no room to talk,” Liam quipped.

“You’re right,” Aria agreed, eliciting a laugh that she felt rumble in his chest where her head was resting.

Liam glanced down at her as she tilted her face towards him. He scooped a finger under her chin and leaned down, capturing her lips in his. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Flowers … I think,” Aria chuckled before kissing him. “What about you?”

“Fitting for my regalia.”

“Special wedding regalia? Color me intrigued.”

“Oh, yeah. I get to be all done up, lookin’ like a King out of the days of yore,” Liam chuckled.

Aria smiled at the imagery. “We have the cake tasting later.”

“The most important part,” Liam grinned. “I still say we get a baklava cake.”

“Regina said you can’t have a baklava cake at a royal wedding,” Aria laughed.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“No, you won’t,” Aria giggled. “You’re too much of a people pleaser.”

“I’m a pleaser, alright,” Liam jested as he waggled his brows.

A laugh escaped Aria as she untangled her limbs from his and rolled away from the warmth of his body; she raised her arms above her head and took in a deep breath. Liam couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling over her. The sheet was bunched around her torso, the crisp white fabric contrasting against her bronze skin. One silky leg was bent while the other lay flat against the bed, and when she stretched, the sheet slid down; much to Liam’s disappointment, it stopped at the crest of her breasts just before revealing anything to him.

They were three weeks into planning, but Liam and Aria found themselves more interested in each other than the wedding itself. Perhaps they were trying to make up for the three months they buried their desires and feelings now that they had every reason and all the time in the world to act on them. Every time they met with Regina, who had taken the lead on the wedding plans, to make decisions regarding the ceremony or reception, they would give a quick approval before disappearing on the Queen Mother.

Liam had told Aria when he asked her to wear that ring for real that he couldn’t wait to see all of the sides to her he hadn’t yet. This was one thing among many that he’d learned about her since her return to Cordonia that he didn’t know before: She was just as rapacious when it came to sex as he was. Over the last few weeks, he had seen firsthand at events and balls how she could be the most elegant and poised woman in a room, and with one glance in his direction and flip of a switch, she could turn into a 5-foot-nothing filthy vixen. He fucking loved it.

Aria glanced at the clock on the nightstand; she wasn’t late but was definitely behind schedule. “I have to get ready,” she sighed before sitting up.

Liam continued to stare at her as she ran her fingers through her tousled locks. When she shifted in the bed and swung her legs over the edge, his gaze traveled across the expanse of her back, eyeing the fading marks made by him the night before. As she went to stand, he sprung up, wrapping a strong arm around her waist; he roughly pulled her back into bed and shifted over top of her between her legs.

“Liam,” Aria giggled but was silenced with a kiss.

Liam’s lips moved from hers to her neck. “Just … 15 more minutes,” he whispered against her skin.

“I have to get ready. I don’t want to be late.”

Liam smirked because, despite her words, she tilted her neck to allow him better access as she slightly arched her body into his in search of friction. He dipped his head to the swell of her breast, and his hand tugged the sheet away from her; his lips brushed against her pebbled nipple. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked before his tongue darted out, swirling around the peaked bud.

“I need …” Aria’s words trailed off as she watched him begin to move lower. “Liam, I need …” Another attempted protest failed when he reached the apex of her thighs.

Liam hooked his arms around her legs, looking up to meet her gaze with a wolfish grin. “Oh, I know exactly what you need, love,” he said before dropping his head down.

Aria’s head fell back with a moan when she felt his tongue start to lavish her. She combed her fingers through his blond hair, resting her hand on the back of his head. “15 minutes,” she breathed.

****

Forty-five minutes later, a finally showered and dressed Aria kissed Liam goodbye before rushing out of their quarters; she would make her meeting with Regina and the florist just in time.

Liam chuckled to himself as he walked back to their bedroom and stepped into his closet. Having just gotten out of the shower before Aria rushed out, he dropped the towel from around his waist so he could dress.

Aria had been in Cordonia for a month, and despite spending the entirety of his Social Season with her and falling in the process, he found himself still falling. She was a completely different person -- in the best way -- now that they were in a real relationship. On top of learning what she was really like behind closed doors, he learned how much of a romantic at heart she truly was. He was able to see a more playful side to her; he still purposely got under her skin to rile her up, and she still took shots at his ego, but it was all in good fun now. Liam was able to see all these pieces of her that she had hidden away under the guise of their ruse now that they had finally opened themselves up entirely to one another.

One of the things Liam loved to see most was Aria coming into her own as future Queen. The first couple of weeks, she felt unsure of herself and her abilities to take on such a heavy weight; it was something he had expected and was prepared to help her with. Little by little, those insecurities fell away, and she became more comfortable and more confident each day.

Something that helped Aria and that Liam also noticed for the first time was seeing how much she was truly liked and accepted. During their ruse, it wasn’t something Liam paid much attention to; his focus then was keeping an eye on the press while avoiding them as much as possible to ensure they had a successful farce while simultaneously trying to ignore his true feelings. Sure, he saw how his close circle of friends cozied up to her, but seeing Aria at events, balls, and appearances in the last few weeks, he finally took notice of everyone else. His people, the press, and his court adored her. She truly was able to charm anyone she spoke with. And those who had yet to meet her face-to-face were eagerly awaiting to do so as her reputation as the better half of him -- an endearment he would gladly let her have because it was the truth -- began to precede itself.

There was no denying how the presence of Aria in Liam’s life had changed him for the better. It was no secret that he had … lost his way for a bit. Sure, everyone coped with things in different ways, but when he first met her, he was at a point where his life no longer felt like his own. He had fallen into a routine, one that he was aware could have had severe repercussions on the monarchy and his future reign if he had taken just the slightest step in the wrong direction over that line he was so eager to tiptoe on at the time, pushing against propriety just enough to see what he could get away with. But she brought him back. Being with Aria made him remember all of the things he wanted out of life that he had forgotten were once important to him.

****

Liam stared at his reflection in the mirror as he slightly lifted his chin, adjusting the gold collar of his formal regalia while the seamstress pinned the hem of his pant legs to the correct length.

“That would be too much for me,” Drake said, shaking his head.

Liam looked over to where he was sitting. “You don’t like to wear regular suits. So, it doesn’t really surprise me that you’d say that.”

“You’re going to have swamp ass in that thing,” Drake laughed. “Your poor balls aren’t going to be able to breathe.”

Liam snorted. “What I’m more curious about is why you’re concerning yourself with my balls?”

“I’m just saying,” Drake shrugged.

“Looking sharp,” a voice sounded from the doorway behind him.

Liam met his father’s gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Hello.”

Constantine nodded in acknowledgment to both Liam and Drake. “Regina sent me to ask some questions.”

“Oh boy,” Liam jested.

“Well, they probably could have been answered if the bride and groom-to-be would stop vanishing during wedding discussions,” Constantine chided.

Drake covered his mouth with his fist to conceal a knowing smile as Liam fought back a laugh and cleared his throat. “Go on.”

Constantine shook his head with an imperceptible smile. “Well, there’s the matter of your best man.”

“Drake,” Liam answered without hesitation.

Drake eyed Liam. “I don’t have to wear something like that, do I?” he asked, gesturing towards Liam in his regalia.

“Yes,” Liam answered. “Except yours has frilly cuffs and puffy sleeves.” He gave himself away when he started to laugh at the image of Drake ever wearing anything remotely close to that. “No, you don’t. A simple suit will be fine.”

“My balls are greatly appreciative,” Drake chuckled as Liam laughed. “And of course. I’d be honored, Li.”

“That settles that. Next … your officiant for the ceremony.”

Liam knitted his brows, giving his father a look. “Well, you, duh.”

“It can be me, yes, or any member of the royal family for that matter …”

The way in which Constantine’s tone shifted caught both Drake and Liam’s attention. Drake stood, taking that as his cue. “I’ll see you later.” He clapped Liam’s shoulder before leaving.

Liam glanced away from his father as he shook his head, knowing what he was trying to imply. “No.”

“Liam--”

“I’m not summoning Leo back from wherever the hell he is to be a part of my wedding. I don’t want him there.”

“You’re going to have to try and make amends eventually, Liam.”

Liam glanced back at his father. “I don’t have to try and do anything. He does. And my wedding will not be the day for it.”

“I understand your anger, and I don’t fault you for feeling the way you do towards him. But he’s your brother, Liam.”

“Exactly. He’s my brother. It wasn’t the stab in the back that hurt … it was who was holding the knife. He ran off and showed back up a year later, on what was arguably the biggest night of my life, wanting to pretend like nothing happened. Then, he proceeds to act as though he did me some kind of favor, which in hindsight, yeah, he did, but that’s not the point, and it certainly doesn’t justify or excuse his actions.” Liam looked back at the mirror, taking a breath and letting it out slowly as he fumbled with his collar some more. “When I’m ready to talk to him, I will. Until then, I really don’t feel like discussing it further.”

Constantine nodded. “I’ll drop it …”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t forget you have that meeting with Bertrand soon.”

Liam glanced at his watch and nodded. “I should be done here shortly.”

****

Aria inhaled the fresh scent of flowers as she walked next to Regina, glancing around at all of her options. She had already chosen white roses as the main floral attractions for the centerpieces, other decorative arrangements, and bouquets, but she wanted something that would add just a small pop of color. A familiar-looking flower caught her attention; it was deep purple in the center and faded out to a light fuschia at the edges. She reached out, running her fingers gently across the petals.

Regina smiled. “That one is--”

“The Blush of Midnight,” Aria grinned. “We have them on Delphios, but not many, and they’re only on one side of the island, away from the city.”

“There’s an old Cordonian folktale about those,” Liam’s voice rang out. Aria turned and smiled when her eyes landed on him; as Regina was called away by the florist, he stepped up to Aria, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi. What are you doing here? I thought you had your fitting?”

“I’m done.”

Aria rolled her eyes. “Grooms have it so easy.”

Liam chuckled. “I have a meeting I was on my way to prepare for, but I thought I would stop in and see how you were faring.”

“We’re getting there,” Aria nodded. “So, a folktale, huh?”

“Yes,” Liam grinned. He stepped behind Aria, pulling her body back against his as he wrapped his arms around her and tilted his head, bringing his lips to her ear. “It says that any lovers who pluck the flower’s petals together … will be bound together for life,” he whispered.

Aria settled back against him, smiling when she felt him press a light kiss to the spot just below her ear. “Ok, well, I’m sold. There’s our pop of color.” Liam smothered a laugh against her neck, his warm breath on her skin causing her to close her eyes. “How much time do you have before your meeting?” she whispered.

Chuckling mischievously, Liam’s grip around her waist tightened, but before he could give her an answer, Regina was clearing her throat next to them. They both looked over and flashed awkward smiles as she arched a brow in Liam’s direction. “Go,” she sternly pointed to the door.

Liam’s mouth dropped open with a laugh. “What? Why?”

“You have a meeting to get to. You’ll see her for the cake tasting later. Now, go,” Regina shooed him as he and Aria laughed.

“I’ll see you later, love!” Liam called out to Aria before being ushered through the doors. He chuckled to himself on the way to his study. Based on his father’s earlier comment in the boutique and Regina just now, they had clearly caught on to the couple’s disappearing act.

****

Later that afternoon, Liam and Aria met with Regina in the dining hall, where several samples of wedding cake along with other various desserts for the reception were waiting for them to try and choose. She told them she would be back shortly to discuss their choices before leaving them with the baker.

They weren’t left alone for long periods of time between tastings, much to Liam’s chagrin; Aria was teasing him mercilessly through each sample, but each time he thought he could sneak her out of the room, the baker would reappear with more. Sure, he could easily get up and tell him they were done, but he didn’t want to be rude after all of the trouble of preparing the samples.

Liam drew back from Aria’s lips upon hearing the door open and footsteps behind him. He turned as the baker set down one of his favorites. “This is the last one, sir,” the man smiled. “I’ll leave you now. The Queen Mother will be with you shortly, and she’ll let me know of your choices.”

“Thank you,” Liam and Aria spoke in unison.

When the man turned, Liam looked back at Aria, waiting for the sound of the door latching shut. Once it did, he glanced down at the chocolate soufflé. “You need to try this,” he grinned. When Aria lifted her spoon, he playfully smacked it out of her hand, causing it to land on the table with a clang as she laughed. He scooped a finger into the chocolate and held it up as he met her gaze. “They add a secret ingredient to give it a burst of flavor.”

Liam watched as Aria reached up, wrapping her hand around the base of his finger. Without breaking eye contact, she brought it to her mouth, sliding it between her lips. He felt his cock jerk when her tongue swirled, and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan as the decadent chocolate flavor danced on her taste buds.

“Fuck,” Liam growled.

Aria opened her eyes with a mischievous grin as she slowly slid his finger from her mouth. “It’s so good,” she purred.

Liam’s hand curled around her neck, and he pulled her towards him, covering her mouth with his. Her lips parted, and his tongue slid against hers, letting him taste the chocolate still lingering there. When he drew back, she tugged his bottom lip, which was all he could take. “Get up,” he grunted as he stood and pulled her with him.

“Liam,” Aria laughed as he began forcefully guiding her towards the door. “We have to wait--” Her words trailed off into a yelp as he hoisted her over his shoulder just as they exited the dining room and started towards the stairs. “My my, someone is very impatient,” she teased.

“It’s your fault,” Liam said as he hurried up the stairs. “You and that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Once at the top of the stairs, Liam turned down the hall and set her down. He crashed his lips against hers and guided her back against the wall. Before they became too caught up in the middle of the corridor, he stepped away and took her hand, hearing her laugh as he hurried them towards their quarters. Liam glanced down at her, shaking his head with a grin when she bit her lip innocently. A familiar voice then pulled his attention, and he glanced up. Upon seeing his father round the corner at the end of the corridor, not noticing them because he was trapped in a conversation with Bastien, Liam yanked Aria through the first door they came to and quietly shut it behind him. He turned with a smirk and stepped towards her, gripping her waist as he leaned down and captured her lips in his as he began to walk her further inside.

Aria let out a giggle against his lips when she stumbled. She turned in his embrace, and her eyes fell shut when his lips wasted no time finding her neck, but they flew back open to do a double-take. “Whoa …”

Liam lifted his head and smiled at her reaction to the throne room. Then, his eyes fell on the throne itself, and an idea -- a fantasy -- came to mind, one that he’d thought about wanting more times than he should probably admit. And he’d never been more glad than he was at that moment that he hadn’t fulfilled it … yet. He turned Aria to face him and lifted her by her waist; she wrapped her arms and legs around him as she found his lips again, and he carried her across the large room. He stepped onto the dais beneath the black fabric baldachin and lowered himself onto the gold-lined throne chair with Aria straddling his lap.

Aria slowly drew back from their kiss and glanced up and then around, laughing when she met his gaze again. “Are we sitting on your actual throne?”

“Uh-huh,” Liam nodded with a knowing smirk before drawing her mouth back to his.

Aria chuckled as she pulled back again. “We can’t do it here! Anyone can walk in.”

“No one comes in here,” he whispered as his lips found her neck; he trailed them up to her ear with a grin. “Well … you most definitely will come in here.”

“Liam!” Aria squealed. “I’m serious. What if someone walks in?”

“No one walks in here. Shut up.” Liam pulled her back down, silencing her laugh with a deep kiss. He felt a flicker of triumph when he pulled her hips down against his, so there was no question how much he wanted her, and she moaned against his lips in response.

“Liam …” Aria breathed, pulling back. She stared at him with a look of desire but also apprehension.

Liam held her gaze as he outstretched his arms on either side and grabbed hold of the gold ropes that kept the curtains tied in place; he gave a hard tug, and in a blink, the heavy black fabric fell shut around the throne. They were surrounded in faded darkness, with just enough light coming through to make one another visible.

“Better?” Liam whispered.

Aria answered by leaning forward, dropping her lips onto his and a jolt of excitement shot through him as he deepened the kiss. He felt her hands fumbling against his belt, then working his button and zipper. He groaned into the kiss when she slid her hand beneath the fabric of his boxers and took him out, curling her hand around his base.

Liam drew back from her lips with a gasp as she slowly stroked him. “Aria,” he moaned.

Feeling him grow even harder in her hand, Aria smirked before maneuvering off of his lap. Then, she dropped to her knees in front of him … as he sat on his throne … and all sensibility left him, sending his mind into a frenzy.

“I swear, you’re like every damn fantasy I ever had come true,” Liam grunted as she wrapped her hand back around him.

A kittenish grin formed on Aria’s lips as she looked up at him through her lashes and leaned forward. Liam watched the moment her lips wrapped around him, swirling her tongue before taking all of him into her mouth. He let out a sharp breath, combing his fingers through her hair and holding it back away from her face with his hand resting on the back of her head.

Aria bobbed her head, twisting her velvet tongue along the underside of his cock. Liam’s stomach tensed when he felt himself hit the back of her throat; he instinctively bucked his hips as his head fell back with a moan. “Christ, Aria,” he breathed. When he glanced back down at her, he saw himself slide in and out of her mouth; he was utterly transfixed as he watched her, and the sight alone was enough to send him hurtling towards release. But he wasn’t about to end this fantasy of his so soon. “Love,” he warned. Liam felt her movements slow, ebbing him away from the edge he was nearing, but even her tortuous pace felt so good he couldn’t tell her to stop. Instead, he cradled her head, staring down at her as he slowly fucked her mouth.

Hollowing her cheeks, Aria drew a deep moan from Liam as she finally released him. He leaned forward, pulling her back to her feet and into his lap before crashing his lips against hers. As he curled his tongue against hers, his fingers pulled the zipper at the back of her dress down. They drew back as he lifted it over her head and dropped it onto the dais.

Liam slid his hand between them and pulled the thin lace that covered her to the side before sliding his finger through her slick folds, eliciting a moan from her. “Mmm, sucking my cock has left you dripping for me, love,” he said as he continued to stroke her.

“Liam,” Aria whimpered as she gripped his shoulders and arched into his hand, her body aching for more. “Please. I need you.” She gasped when Liam tugged the thin fabric, tearing it away from her body. “Liam!” she giggled through her surprise.

“You won’t be needing those,” Liam smirked. “Now, put your legs here,” he ordered, guiding one through the opening beneath the armrest; she shifted her other to do the same. With her heels still on, her feet just hit the dais as she straddled him, and she raised up as Liam positioned himself at her entrance. She slowly sank down on him, and as he filled her, a moan dripped from her lips. “Fuck,” Liam groaned, feeling her tightness envelop him. “I love being inside you.”

Using her grip on his shoulders and her legs for leverage, Aria began to move, sliding up and down the length of his cock in long, deep strokes. “You feel so good,” Aria moaned.

Liam’s hand reached behind her, unclasping her bra before peeling it away from her chest and tossing it behind him over the chair. His hands cupped the sides of her breasts, caressing her before he slid them down the contour of her body; he curled them around her hips to her ass, squeezing as she undulated her hips. “Just like that, love,” he said as he thrust into her.

As they picked up their pace, the throne began to creak, but neither one cared, too lost in their pleasure to be bothered. Liam slid one hand to the small of her back, pushing himself in deeper with each roll of her hips; his other hand grabbed the back of her neck, drawing her mouth to his in a fervent kiss. Aria’s whimpers became louder, feeling him hit that perfect spot inside her.

Suddenly, they stilled upon hearing the door of the throne room open; Liam’s hand instinctively covered Aria’s mouth as they met gazes; he couldn’t help but quietly laugh at her expression, her eyes screaming at him for telling her that no one came in that room.

In his defense, they rarely ever did.

They heard quiet voices of staff going over what else they had left on their to-do lists for the day. A mischievous smirk crossed Liam’s lips as he pressed a finger to them. “Keep fucking me,” he spoke in a faint yet commanding whisper.

Aria’s eyes fell shut when Liam dropped a hand to her hip and guided her forward; she slowly began to ride him again, moving at a tortuously slow pace, so the throne didn’t creak beneath them. Liam’s one hand stayed over her mouth as his other started to roughly caress her breast before sliding down her concave stomach. Her eyes snapped open when she felt his thumb teasingly brush against the top of her center. She gave him a warning look, but that didn’t stop him; with a wolfish grin, he pressed his thumb down, sliding it against her in slow, deliberate strokes that matched the pace of her hips rocking against his.

Aria couldn’t stop the whisper of a moan that escaped her as her body shuddered, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the voices. “Shhh,” Liam teasingly admonished through a whisper. “You don’t want the rest of the palace to hear you screaming my name, do you?”

Aria’s eyes opened again, knowing what he was purposely trying to do, more evident by the sly smile on his lips. Two can play this game. When she rose up, she sank down hard onto him again as she rolled her hips just right and bit down against the flesh of his palm. She earned a strangled groan from him from both the pleasure and sting against his skin. Liam dropped his hand from her mouth and replaced it with his lips as he gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her supple skin in a manner sure to leave marks. He willed whoever was in that room to leave, feeling them both beginning to unravel.

A few moments later, the voices began to fade into the hallway before the door latched shut. Both Liam and Aria let out moans they were holding in; the throne resumed its creaking as they frantically chased their release. He met each roll of her hips with powerful thrusts, feeling her start to flutter around his cock.

“Give it to me, Aria. I want you to come for me,” Liam grunted.

With one last grind of her hips against him, Aria’s body tensed as whimpered moans ripped from her throat. Her fingernails dug crescents into his shoulders, and he hissed in pleasure from the sting of them piercing his skin. Liam gripped her hips tightly and thrust once, twice, three times before meeting his shuddering release with a long throaty groan; his muscles went taut as he buried himself inside her as deep as he could and held himself there as he came undone.

Liam relaxed in the chair a moment later as Aria slumped against him, resting her forehead against his as they both tried catching their breath. He brushed the hair away from her face, cupping her neck and drawing her lips to his. As he kissed her slow and deep, languidly curling his tongue against hers, he could feel her body trembling in aftershocks as he continued to pulsate inside her.

“I love you,” Liam whispered against her lips before kissing her again.

Aria smiled into the kiss and sighed contently when they parted. “I love you, too.” She closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing as she dropped her head against his shoulder, still feeling her body thrumming. A few moments later, a rumble of laughter erupted from Liam; she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “What’s so funny?”

“We’re going to come in here for your coronation next month, and I’ll be sitting here, trying and failing not to think about how we sullied the throne,” Liam chuckled.

Aria snorted. “Does that mean you wouldn’t do it again?”

“Fuck no,” Liam scoffed. He silenced her laugh when he pulled her into another kiss.

*******

Two weeks later, Liam lifted a beer to his lips, taking a long pull from the bottle with his arm slung over Aria’s shoulders. They were sitting and talking with Drake, Rosalie, Olivia, and Madeline on the patio of the beer garden, while Rashad and Maxwell played a game of darts. The two had been taken out by their friends that evening for a low-key, pre-wedding celebration; they had shut down the outside area for the couple and their small entourage to give them privacy.

Their wedding was tomorrow.

The RSVPs had been received. The flowers had been chosen. The ceremony and reception had been planned down to the wire. The menus for both dinner and dessert were done. Security provisions and perimeters had been set in place. Barricades lined the streets of Cordonia along the route that the carriage would take from the palace to the cathedral.

Aria’s dress hung in the boutique at the palace while Liam’s regalia had been shipped off to Ramsford, where he was staying that night.

They didn’t want to spend the night apart, but everyone insisted it was tradition. Plus, with Mariana and Javier having arrived that morning and staying in one of the guest rooms down the hall from their bedroom, it wasn’t like they could get up to their usual nighttime antics. Liam figured he could handle one night away from her, knowing that after tomorrow, they had forever ahead of them.

As the night began to wind down and with the others lost in conversation, Liam leaned over, whispering something in Aria’s ear. She smiled in response before casually standing from her seat and walking away; a moment later, he did the same. Just because he knew forever was ahead of them didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take an opportunity to get her alone for a few moments before they parted ways.

They walked through the emergency exit from the patio and onto the street; Liam approached the SUV waiting there and opened the back door. “We need a moment, please,” Liam said to Bastien as Aria slid into the vehicle. Bastien exited as Liam followed behind her, closing the door once inside. He pulled her over to straddle his lap and drew her lips to his.

“We don’t have the time or the privacy,” Aria giggled when they parted.

Liam smirked up at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know. Pity.”

Aria smiled affectionately. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Liam fiddled with the ring on her finger with an unmistakable smile. “I’ve been ready.”

“You’ve been ready?” Aria asked as she arched her brow, and Liam nodded. “Says the guy who offered a complete stranger an arrangement because he said he didn’t want to choose a bride,” she quipped.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Liam chuckled. “I’ve been ready since you came along.”

“Ever the charmer,” Aria smiled, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Says the stranger who once told me that she’d more than proven my so-called charm is, in fact, very irresistible and wouldn’t dream of falling for me,” Liam smirked.

Aria rolled her eyes with a subtle smile as he laughed. “What do you think Liam and Aria from the Social Season would say if they were told where they’d be now?”

“Oh, they’d be appalled.”

“Utterly disgusted.”

“They’d never believe it.”

“Not for one second.”

They smiled and leaned forward at the same moment, capturing one another’s lips again. Liam’s arm wrapped around Aria, and his other hand tangled in her hair as the kiss deepened. Just as they began to get lost in that moment with each other, they were startled apart by banging on the door outside.

“Save it for the wedding night!” Drake shouted outside the vehicle.

“Let’s go, lover boy!” Rashad added.

Liam laughed through a groan as he looked up at her. “I guess they’re ready.”

Aria chuckled as she shifted off his lap and fixed her hair before looking over at him with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Liam grinned before leaning over to kiss her once more. “You bet your ass you will.”

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