Deluxism - Delryn - Tumblr Blog

How do you think Korryn reacts to.. making Nerdy reader squirt? I think it's bound to happen with how she's fucking her. If Korryn likes it, she'll even press her hand to Readers stomach to stimulate it even more? Would she tease her with no end? Poor nerdy reader! (sarcasm(

I can see Korryn murmuring every curse under the sun if you squirt. You’re always so quiet and timid around her, so to see you gush and drool over her strap with so much slick has her bucking her hips up even wilder than before.

“Poor” Nerdy Reader is so overwhelmed. Korryn isn’t making this any easier on yourself, wanting to hear your voice crack and whine her name while she sends you to pound town. Squirt again for her will you, yeah? Coat that cock of hers and make it all pretty, all shiny and wet from how pathetic her sweet baby is 💕

sara has been poisoned.

you know this because she has been sick longer than any fever lasts for, but more so because you’ve spent nearly the entire past decade of your life studying poisons in sumeru. the anatomy of a poisoning is an old friend of yours; the poison, the poisoned organism, the injury to the cells, and the symptoms and signs—which is usually succeeded by death, although you are not so unskilled to undo the effects of a simple almond-based poison. no, the poison itself is not your concern, hastily and poorly concocted as it is.

no, your concern is the bastard who would dare do such a thing to your wife.

sara shivers as you pat a damp cloth to her forehead. her face is flushed with fever, sweat beading on her neck. her fingers grip and relax the bedding of her futon, eyes squeezed shut as the poison rips through her. you’ve already administered the antidote, but the aftereffects are still something sara must weather alone. it makes your heart ache. you are used to seeing your wife as a pillar of strength, so to see her reduced to quivering frailness brings out a grief in your heart you only experienced once, as your mother lay dying. you lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, squeezing her hand. sara groans, but some of the tension in her expression melts at the gesture.

just then, the door slides open with a soft sound. by the cadence of the footsteps—even, controlled, but with the weight of the house’s master—you know it is your brother, ayato. you do not look at him when you speak, your voice deceptively soft.

“have you discovered the culprit, brother?”

ayato hums behind you. “i have. one kujou kurose, a minor officer from one of the kujou branch families.”

“a fellow member of the kujou?”

“yes. though, he has made his disapproval of takayuki’s adoption of sara clear from the beginning. now that takayuki is out of the picture, i suspect he felt bold enough to make his move and get rid of her as well.”

you snort derisively as you brush some damp hair out of sara’s face. “he would commit treason out of jealousy?”

“the human heart is fickle,” ayato says evenly. “so, what is it you plan to do, sister?”

you tuck the sheets a little tighter around sara, then rise to your feet. you turn, and offer ayato a carefully measured smile—the smile your father taught both you and ayato to wear; the one that brings with it unrest. ayato recognises it innately, and a spark of amusement lights up his usually placid eyes.

“why, invite them to tea, of course.”

-

kujou kurose is a poor actor.

you learn this as you sit across from him at tea, listening to him ramble and rave about just how terrible it is for general kujou to have fallen ill. your hands squeeze your teacup tight enough that the glass might have cracked in your grip. instead, you grit your teeth and patiently endure his incessant blabbering, before insisting he have some tea.

“sakura blend,” you elaborate. “the petals came from the sacred sakura. it is intended to promote good health.”

kujou kurose idly strokes his beard and chuckles. “is that so? then let us drink to general kujou’s continued good health. please, pour some for me.”

you smile—polite as ever—and lean forward to lift the teapot. the collar of your kimono shifts with the action, and you can feel kurose’s eyes linger on the brief flash of your exposed collarbones. a stab of annoyance flickers through you, but you tamp it down. you pour his tea, then return to your seated position. kurose, to his credit, is not so barbaric to forget the etiquette of tea. he sips his tea from his cup slowly, expression smoothing out as the warm, sweet liquid tips down his throat. your smile does not leave your face. when he sets his cup back down, his expression is utterly calm, relaxed.

fool.

your own tea is untouched. you watch him carefully as you speak. “is the tea to your liking, my lord?”

kurose gives you a look. opens his mouth and tries to speak.

he fails.

you cannot stop the sheer delight on your face as you watch the man realise he cannot move at all. his eyes, once arrogant and deceptive, are now filled solely with fear. rage flickers across his expression briefly, but the fear resurges without mercy as he experiences what it is like to have no control over your body. as he remains stone-still in paralyzed fear, you raise your own cup to your lips and take a sip. the tea is warm and sweet—but to your seasoned palette of poisons, the subtle bitter hints of paralytic are obvious.

not that it bothers you. you’ve been ingesting your own poisons (in controlled doses, of course) since your first year at the akademiya to get a leg up on your coursemates in describing and documenting the effects of assorted poisons. suffice to say, you’ve developed a reasonable amount of tolerance to poisons, especially the ones you crafted yourself.

others, like kurose? not so much.

when you set your teacup down, there is nothing in his expression but despair. that dark, vindictive part of you howls with glee at the sight, and you give him your first true smile of the afternoon. when you speak, your voice is low, like a serpent slithering through tall grass.

“did you think i would not know, kurose?” you use his first name casually, as befitting your status both as a kamisato, and the general’s wife. “the walls have ears, kurose, and you have been so very loud.”

his throat bobs. you had given him just enough of a dosage to paralyze most of his muscles, but not enough to freeze the ones in his lungs or heart. at least, not yet.

“i know you poisoned my wife,” you continue, your tone hardly betraying anything. the conversation flows as if you were merely speaking of ther weather. “and i know it is because you are too much of a bitch to face her in honorable combat.”

if kurose could move, he would have flinched. but he can’t, so the best he can manage is a frenzied look of pure panic in his eyes.

“so you resorted to these… pathetic, underhanded methods you know sara would never dream of partaking in. and you thought, like this, you might win. and even if she didn’t die, you could not be implicated because of a lack of evidence, and that sara’s own respect for the law would let you walk free. but i’m afraid your cowardice is only matched by your stupidity,” you spit, unable to contain your vitriol any longer. “because if you think i subscribe to such restrictions, you are sorely mistaken.”

you have been away from inazuma for years, studying in the land of wisdom. and many have forgotten just who you are, but you are a kamisato. they call your sister a heron, sweet and beautiful. they call your brother a fox, cunning and charming. but you? you are nothing so warm-blooded. you are a snake in the grass, coiled in on yourself, fangs filled with venom. and archons help whoever is foolish enough to tread too close to your nest.

“make an attempt on my wife’s life again, kurose, and i will watch the light leave your eyes myself.”

and with that, you stand, forgoing a bow, and leave the trembling man in your living room with a swish of your silk kimono.

-

sara blinks as she looks down at one of her documents. she’s since recovered from her illness, and has resumed her duties as general. currently, she’s going over her backlog of paperwork that accumulated while she was unwell. and one of them is particularly odd—kujou kurose’s resignation letter.

“strange,” she mutters, and you look up from your embroidery to glance at her. you tilt your head in question.

“what is, dearest?”

“uncle kurose resigned,” she says, scanning over the document again. “he said he feels ‘too old’ to keep attending to his role within the clan. he’ll be… taking an extended trip to liyue to recuperate, apparently.”

you only hum at that. “mm, it is not too surprising. he is quite old, no?”

“well…” sara sighs. “he is old, yes, but he is also… tenacious. i didn’t think he’d resign unless he died. so it’s just weird, i suppose.”

you set your embroidery down with a smile, rising to your feet to pad softly over to her side. your brush her bangs away from her forehead and press a soft kiss to her temple. sara makes a tiny, surprised noise, a delicate flush settling on her cheeks as your hand rises to cup her jaw.

“you’re so caring, my dear,” you chuckle. “i’m sure he’s quite fine. it isn’t like he was threatened or anything—he’s still a kujou, after all. who would dare?”

sara sighs again, and leans into your touch. “you’re right.”

“i always am,” you quip, and sara rolls her eyes affectionately. she turns her head and presses a quick kiss to your palm.

“i love you,” she whispers, and your eyes soften. you lower your head to catch her lips in a soft kiss. she tastes like peppermint tea and sugar, the blend you made specifically for her. you breathe your reply against her lips.

“i love you too, my dear.”

“ oh pup come on, just one kiss and a hug? “

“ feixiao—no, you’re sweaty and you just came back from lifting weights. “

you sighed, backing away from her open arms with a skeptical look on your face. feixiao’s ears nearly flatten and she cutely pouts. “ i’m not that sweaty. it was only an hour session. you’re making it seem like i ran 4 whole miles and came back sweating buckets. “ your brows curl upwards as you eye the beads of sweat rolling down her toned deltoids and biceps, glistening her creamy skin. you cross your arms over your chest, looking back up at her hopeful cerulean eyes. she offers you a crooked smile.

“ yeah, no. go take a shower and i’ll gladly give you all the kisses and hugs you want. “

shaking her head, she chuckles before taking a slow step towards you with a mischievous glint swimming in her shimmering eyes.

“ no can do, i want them now. i won’t take no for an answer. i tried to ask nicely but it seems like i’d just have to take what i want now. “

before you can even react, her sturdy arms are already wrapped around you, caging you in. “ ewww f-fei, st-stop! “ you shouted, half laughing. she presses your body close to hers, smiling brightly at the sounds of your laughter. “ i can’t do that one~ what’s wrong with a little sweating anyways? you’re my beloved mate. you shouldn’t mind it at all, mm? “

your lover presses obnoxiously loud, wet kisses all over your face. a few littered across your brows, forehead, the bridge of your nose—all over. “

“ muah. muah. muah. muah. i’m starting to feel a little better now. “ she mutters jokingly between kisses.

“ feeeii. “

“ now, now. i’m almost done. i’m missing a spot, aren’t i? can you guess where, pup? “ she asks sweetly, waiting patiently for your answer with a resting smile.

“ the shower is what you’re missing. “ you answer playfully, pressing your palms into feixiao’s shoulders as an attempt to break away from her embrace. she only tightens her hold around you.

“ wrong. but wow, i’m wounded by your answer, i suppose there’s only one way to heal me. “ she grins cheekily, gaze visibly lowering as she begin to lean in.

“ aeons, you’re such a little weasel. “ you try to push her face away but she easily catches your wrist. her breath fans against your lips as she chuckles again. “ and so what if i am? i got what i needed anyways. “

with that, feixiao kisses your lips and smiles in triumph as you melt in her strong arms.

“ chu~ “

Could we have more mouse reader? They are absolutely adorbs <3

The mouse reader is actually a reply for a post from @//jymwahuwu, Please keep in mind their blog is 18+! So I won't tag the post here.

I posted it on my nsfw blog, but I can share the art here because it is sfw!

Plus some other rat/mouse reader sketch.

No lore, just drawing

korean-japanese women yuri is trending on twitter because korean and japanese women don't like the men in their respective countries they're making yuri about korean women and japanese women dating each other wow what a time to be alive

This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.

hear me out , college smau / au with Minji being nerdy loser girl 🫠

“Freak.”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

Synopsis: You have to be grouped with the smartest girl for your economics course for a few months. Being someone who hates pulling their weight you try to convince her to do the project by herself, with no avail.

A/N: my first attempt at a SMAU and this is most definitely a one shot because I am getting an aneurism using MEMI.

jade nsft utc

working as jade’s bodyguard would be such a shitty gig not because of the danger or whatever (jade compensates you very nicely for any occupational hazards) but because she makes a sport out of trying to tempt you. to see how far your will can hold out against your desire. by that i mean she will almost nightly get herself off in her opulent hotel rooms, and she will ensure you can hear every single damn thing. her indulgent sighs of pleasure; the hitch of her breath as she gets closer; the long, drawn out moan as she cums on her own fingers. sometimes, if she’s worked up enough, you might even be able to hear the squelch of her fingers working her dripping cunt, or maybe the hum of her vibrator, or the wet smacks of her favourite dildo as she fucks it in and out of herself. and if she’s feeling particularly evil she’ll let your name slip from her lips as she cums, just so she can see the tense, hard lines of your expression the next morning as she pretends like everything’s normal. and she’ll do this over and over again until your control finally snaps and you give in. that’s the part she loves the most, because you’ll fuck her like some feral creature, your strap utterly rearranging her guts on the nearest surface you can find, until she’s creaming all over the silicone and utterly brainless with pleasure to tempt you any further. she’ll only smile dazedly up at you when you pull away, leaving her messy cunt clenching around nothing.

after all, she knows how to make you come right back.

GOING LIVE!

synopsis: (camgirl AU) collaborating with various ptn women for your streams.

featuring: eleven, deren, bianca, shawn, angell

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, adult se.x work, camming, fing.ering, strap ons, exhibition, voyeur.ism, deren grows a di.ck, oral, toys, mast.urbation, doggy style, riding, lap se.x, pet names, praise, masked se.x, belly bulge, may be ooc.

art credits: my drunken boss

ELEVEN

With your back pressed against Eleven and her fingers working like magic on your clit, your breathless whimpers were picked up by the microphone in front of you and left hundreds of viewers waiting on bated breath. The audio quality was astounding thanks to the help of Eleven’s professional equipment, but you couldn’t really fawn over it yet because of how good Eleven’s fingers felt plunging into your hot, slimy folds… 

“Welcome back to our Saturday Night special on Call at 3 AM…” Eleven didn’t even seem fazed by the speechless silence coming from you as she was too busy making sure the stream was perfect, “Joining me today is a woman that many of you…heh…are familiar with…” She gave you a soft smile before grabbing onto the camera and making it zoom closer on your face, the viewers instantly spamming the chat with heart emojis and bounties of cash, already kicking your night off with a plethora of fans.

“…Oh my, it seems that my viewers recognize you already.” Eleven cooed, using her free hand to tilt your head back to her before kissing the shell of your ear. As you were distracted, she grabbed the head of the camera and tilted it downwards to focus more on your cunt, the audience getting a high quality view of Eleven’s fingers sinking into your wet, velvety walls. 

The squelching noises picked up from the mic were so lewd. So intimate. For a woman as innocent as Eleven seemed, she definitely knew what she was doing. “Let me hear those moans, pretty girl. I know you can be as loud as the lips down here.” She giggled and teased your entrance with another finger, the tip swirling little circles around your folds before slowly inching in. Right away your leg flinched at the third intrusion, walls spreading to accommodate all three of Eleven’s fingers while she wormed her way inside of you. Even if she couldn’t feel any pleasure herself, you could hear Eleven’s breaths falter as she felt you tighten so sweetly around her fingers. 

“Oh…baby…” Eleven nearly whimpered, her voice making you quiver as she began thrusting her hand up and smacked her palm against your clit, “Enjoying yourself on my fingers? Our fans certainly are…” 

She smiled and adjusted her hold on you so that your back was pushing harder against her breasts. Though currently overwhelmed with the sensation of Eleven’s lithe fingers curling up against that tiny spot you adore, you could feel just how turned on she was by how stiff her nipples were against your back. If you could turn around and suck them in your mouth you would, but she kept a firm grip on your hips and made you face the camera for all to see. Your craving for her breasts will have to wait…

“Uh uh…eyes on the camera, my good girl…” Eleven purred, eyes going half lidded at your adorable expressions, “Everyone wants to see you…give them a show why don’t you…? She laughed and pushed her fingers even deeper than they’ve ever been before, ripping a moan right out of your throat like a primal growl deep within. “Mmpf…right there, baby? Yeah? You like that…?” 

She giggled and continued thrusting her digits faster, finger fucking you until all the chat could hear were your desperate little whines and Eleven’s slaps against your ass. “You’re such a natural at this…look at how many patrons are paying for our show, sweetie…”

Eleven groaned huskily before licking the side of your cheek, suddenly pushing you down on the bed with your ass up and stomach pressed against the sheets. “Don’t worry, chat…for tonight’s 3 AM special, we’ll be going all the way until dawn…. So hang tight, grab some lube, and just enjoy the show…” She winked playfully at the camera before hovering above you and caging you beneath her. “Stay like this for a little while longer, okay baby? We’re gonna be here for quite a while…” 

She kissed your cheek before you felt the thick, stiff prodding of her strap push against your already sopping entrance, the rest of the night a dizzy blur, as all you could see were Eleven’s hair curtaining your head, and the spam of donations coming from the chat…

DEREN

“Ah, well would you look at that. Our first donation of the night and I haven’t even done anything…” Deren smiled lazily as she was currently laying against the bed with you on top of her, completely naked while Deren only wore her jacket and her boxers. Though she was just a director, she was also excellent at filming too, her hands steady on the camera while she gave all your viewers a mouthwatering shot of you about to ride Deren like no tomorrow. 

“No strap. Boring?” Deren chuckled as she read one particular comment from the stream. “Oh, I’ve got something way cooler than a strap.” 

Using her special sinner abilities, Deren was able to conjure up a growing cock from underneath her boxers, stretching the muscle against the cloth of her underwear, until you inevitably freed it by yanking the elastic down. Like a spring, it bounced up due to how hard it was, the blood immediately rushing to the tip and making Deren groan with pleasure. “Fuck…” she licked her lips as she made eye contact with you from behind the camera, the live chat going crazy as no one has ever seen anything like this before. “I shouldn’t have envisioned it so hard already…” 

Yet although Deren was groaning to herself, you on the other hand were smirking and staring smugly at the camera. You were excited to collaborate with Deren for this exact reason; her S-Class sinner abilities that allowed her to make anything she fantasized into a reality. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and drool at it, babe?” Deren rested her hands behind her head and looked up at you, chuckling, “Or are you gonna ride me like you promised to…?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Deren’s smug attitude but decided to play along. As you angled your body to face the camera more clearly, you grabbed onto the base of her shaft and gave it a few, steady pumps, feeling along the girth and length of it. “Like it? I tried thinking of a size that best fit you,” Deren hummed, finding pleasure in the way your fingers wrapped around her stubby base. You nodded, clearly excited to get to the main course of your stream and show everyone just how good you could please another woman. Hovering just above her cockhead, you playfully ran your thumb over the tip before nestling it between your entrance, breath hitching as you slowly sank down on her length. 

“Shit…” Deren suddenly cursed under her breath and weld her eyes shut, the feeling of your warm, hot pussy enveloping her making her head go dizzy with ecstasy. “Haven’t even started and you feel like heaven…” 

She tried to play off the amount of pleasure she was feeling but couldn’t resist releasing a small moan when you sank all the way to the base. With just a bit of spit, lube and foreplay, you were already opening up so wonderfully for her, tight walls gripping at Deren like your life depended on it, all the while the director kept a firm hold on the camera. Despite her professionalism in this line of work, her hands were trembling from how good you made her feel, causing the livestream footage to be a little shaky…

“Heh…the watchers love you,” Deren comments, trying to avert your attention away from how pathetic she was being. “Why don’t you start riding me now? The audience is getting antsy for some action.” 

She attempted to relax back against the pillows, before you suddenly bounced on her hips and made her choke on her spit. Instantly, it felt like she was going to pass out from how good she felt, your pussy swallowing her in and out every time you bounced on top of her. “Oh…b-babe…” her face went red with pleasure as the comments immediately flooded in, cooing over how cute you looked riding your director’s dick. 

‘Not so smug now, are you?’ You couldn’t help but think, smiling before letting out the moans you held in while Deren’s fat cock plugged you whole. Sure, Deren was a professional when it came to shooting films and movies, but she sure as hell was inexperienced when in the place of the actor. As more donations and comments flooded in your comment section, you could only smile and listen to every suggestion Deren had to read; cockrings, sucking her off, fleshlights…? Oh, you were certainly going to have a fun time with your dearest director….

The poor woman was going to be an amateur at something after all…

BIANCA

With a shaky camera lens and Bianca’s eyes attentively focused on you, you sat sprawled out in front of her with a dildo in your hands currently thrusting into your cunt. When Bianca said she was an expert in filming things thanks to her job as a reporter, you believed her and let her collaborate with you on set. However, now that you actually had her helping you film one of your livestreams up close, you could see that Bianca’s “professionalism” was starting to slip through the cracks the more she watched you. 

“A-Ah…you’re doing great!” Bianca’s voice cracked, sweat starting to drip down her face as she tried to keep herself from blushing. To be honest, just the sight of you naked in front of her was enough to make her nervous, legs clamping together to hide the wetness forming in her pants, all the while she tried to distract herself by reading some of the livestream comments. 

“So many donations already! W-Wow…your fans really love you!” Bianca giggled, though there was an obvious lump in her throat from how much saliva was gathering in her mouth. Poor girl was drooling so much, her blue eyes trained on that ribbed dildo and silently wishing she was the one pushing it inside of you. “Hnn…many are suggesting for you to try the other toys next…” 

Bianca couldn’t help but gulp as her eyes trailed over to the selection of toys you had prepared for yourself. Dildos of different colors, vibrators, nipple clamps, plugs, the broad selection made Bianca tremble as she imagined you in various positions with different things to make you scream. The urge to touch herself was strong, yet no matter how much she wanted to stuff her fingers down her pants and masturbate to the sight of you fucking yourself live on silicone, she was determined to keep filming.  

You, of course, noticed just how riled up Bianca was getting judging by how much she was biting her lip. If you kept up like this for an hour or two, Bianca’s lips would be all bloody and blue. “You can touch yourself, my sweet camerawoman,” you assured softly, teasingly spreading your legs wider to give both your audience and Bianca a better view. “I’m sure my fans wouldn’t mind a little bit of shaky footage.” 

A small gasp left Bianca’s lips as her knees practically buckled in excitement. Resisting the urge to just toss the camera away and tackle you to the bed to have her way, she eagerly pushed her pants down, fingers quickly finding her entrance and swirling them around while she kept watching you. “Oh…damn.” Bianca squeaked, smiling ear to ear while a blissful expression overtook her face. “I could get used to this. No wonder— mmpf, so many people pay to watch you. You’re like a movie star!” 

Despite her excited tone, you could see just how much you were affecting her, her eyes half lidded in pleasure while the shuffling in her pants indicated how fast she was fingering herself. Her lips were slightly parted as if frozen between a moan and a whimper, her cute face going all pink with how hot her body was getting. “Nnnn feels so good…but…I wanna know if you feel good too…” 

Despite not being supposed to talk much during the livestream, Bianca couldn’t keep her babbling mouth shut. She couldn’t help but whine about her needs to finger you and make you hers, to kiss those pretty lips and distract you while she grabs that dildo and shows you how much harder she could fuck you. “Wanna touch you so bad…ah…please…” chatty that she was, silently pleading for you to let her do something. “Please…please, I wanna touch you too…you look so good like this…” 

Unable to resist her pretty begs any longer, you groaned and slid the ribbed toy out of you, using a finger to beckon her closer. “Alright…” you whispered breathlessly, pussy clamping over nothing now as it now craved to have something inside it once more. “Go ahead Bianca, I’m all yours…” 

Your poor viewers could only watch as the camera shook and was scuffled away to prop itself on your desk. The angle was messy and the quality decreased a little, but no one really cared as they all watched in amusement when Bianca lunged herself at you. Ready to give the audience a show that she’d been wanting to do with you all night…

SHAWN

“Keep the camera on my good side. You’ll get more followers that way.”

Cocky that she was, yet Shawn was an interesting collaborator to work with, as her good looks and charisma instantly had your viewers swooning and spamming various donations in your comments for her to demolish you. She was definitely riding a high horse when you asked her to collaborate with you for your “special streams” but Shawn was quick to say yes. How could she ever turn down the opportunity to fuck a pretty girl like you? Especially in front of a live audience on the internet where she could display her talents in pleasing a woman. 

“Ah, many of them seem to like me…” Shawn grinned as she watched all the oncoming messages spew out like flies. She was nonchalant, relaxed almost, if not for the fact that she had you gagging on her strap and drooling so prettily for the camera. “Make her choke some more?” Shawn tsked as she read another slew of comments, a bit impressed by how dirty your fans could be, “My, your viewers are quite the sadistic bunch, aren’t they?”

Shawn gently patted your cheek and gazed down at you rather condescendingly, her hand moving up to rest on the top of your head and nudge you down. “Ease down a little lower, pretty girl. You’re lucky I’m only nice to you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of ever being rough with you. While she knew you were able to take a bit of rough manhandling from her, she didn’t want to make her pretty girl cry (even though she knew you loved it when she made you cry during sex).

“Deeper…deeper…” Shawn exhaled shakily as she eased you down on her fake cock, eyes trained on the way you greedily slurped on her shaft like it was your last meal. The clear strings of drool that clung to the sides of your lips made Shawn shiver with rogue imagination. “Fuuuck, you’re good at this…” Shawn grumbled, grinning at the way you took it down like a champ, “Your cheeks look so cute when they’re full. We should have you suck me off more often…”

She laughed at the thought, accidentally pushing your head down further and causing you to choke on her strap. “Shit. Sorry, sorry…” she immediately softened and pulled you back so you could slide off, your drool clinging onto the warm silicone and attaching you to the tip by your tongue. Despite Shawn’s rare show of concern however, you brushed off her worries and gave her a look that indicated you wanted to do more. You weren’t here to be babied and coddled, you were here to get fucked and fucked good. 

“Oh…oh…” Shawn’s face relaxed back into its nonchalant state, and she immediately smiled at your show of enthusiasm. “You’re tougher than I thought, kitten.” 

She eased your mouth back down on her strap, grabbing onto the camera to make sure the audience got a full view of your lips wrapping around her head, the girth of it all was making your cheeks puff up as you continued to bob your head down on Shawn. The sight of you on your knees for her, gazing up at her with innocent, doe-like eyes was sending Shawn on a little power trip that made her eyes darken with lust. 

“You know…as hot as you are throating my strap, I can’t help but think it’s lubed enough already.” She snickered a little before tilting your chin up to gaze at her, mouth still occupied with her dick, “On your knees once more, but this time…ass up.” 

A flurry of comments quickly overwhelmed the live chat, reactions and donations alike clearly excited for what Shawn was about to do to you as she pushed you down into doggy position. “Make sure to get on this side. Yeah, this side is where the camera gets my best side.” She chuckled at her words before swirling the tip of her strap against your already soaked folds, her cockiness canceled out by the amount of cock she was going to put in you…

ANGELL

Dressed in an all dark mask that obscured Angell’s identity on stream, the only thing that your viewers could see through the camera lens; were the long dark locs of Angell’s hair, and the lewd facial expressions you made as your “mysterious guest” fucked you silly on her strap. Right away, your viewer count had exploded when your special guest revealed herself for your livestream of the night, leaving many of your viewers spamming heart emojis and comments all complimenting on how hot your guest looked while fucking you. 

Despite wearing a mask, everyone could tell Angell was quite the looker. Strong, chiseled abs pulsing and flexing with each thrust of her hips, her defined jawline showing off how beautiful she was underneath the mask… Not to mention how hot her voice was whenever she grunted everytime you squeezed around her. Everything about your mysterious guest was alluring, and thanks to Angell, everyone was completely mesmerized (including you). 

“S-Slower…Slower…” you whimpered, gripping onto her shoulders as she bulldozed into you at a pace only she could achieve. Her breathing was ragged and hot, her lust for you evident in the way she excitedly nipped at your neck. “Sorry… she grumbled softly, yet her pace barely slowed down, her body struggling to keep itself from thrusting even faster. “I’m…excited.”

Judging from the tips of her ears, Angell was blushing. For a woman as stoic as she was, you hadn’t expected her to be so soft and vulnerable around you, even when you couldn’t even see her face that well. It was clear that having you beneath her, legs pathetically wrapped around her waist and clinging to her like your life depended on it, really shook up Angell’s nerves as she wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

Her abs met with the bare skin of your tummy, breath faltering as she pushed her faux cock even further. She was being so intimate, grumbling to herself as her calloused hands moved down to rest upon your soft belly, feeling the smallest of bulges appear whenever she thrusted in and out. “So deep…” she murmured to herself, mesmerized by the sight of her strap going so far, palm gently applying a bit of pressure on the bulge. You whimpered at the extra pressure, your walls clinging onto Angell’s shaft and keeping her locked in place. As she tried to slip out to thrust into you again, she found herself unable to, groaning at the feeling and holding onto your hips. “T-Tight…” she mumbled quietly, gently prying your legs off of her so she could move. “Relax…easy…” 

Her words made your viewers gush about how soft she was being towards you. While Angell looked very intimidating and they expected a whole dominatrix session between you and her, Angell surprised everyone with how gentle she was, her fingers massaging your thighs so that your cunt could ease up a little, and allowing her to slide out once your walls finally relaxed. 

Finally finding a rhythm she could work with, Angell continued her movements, using her arm strength to lift up off the bed and fuck you at an angle where her tip could brush against your sweet spot. When you immediately whined from how far Angell was spearing you, she took notice and hungrily continued to pound against that spot, making your body bounce pathetically from how hard she was ravaging you. 

Various comments and donations poured in, all eager to see Angell destroy you even when she tried her best to be gentle. 

“Make her cum!”

“Fuck her like you’re breeding her!”

“Make her clean you off later when she cums.” 

As all the suggestions piled up, Angell snuck a glance at the chat and smiled a bit under her mask. Though it was hard to see, it was like a switch had gone off in her head as she began pistoning her hips even faster, her hands gentle but her pace outright brutal. It felt like you were about to cum soon given by how fast she was screwing you, your fingers grasping onto Angell’s back and clawing at it until you felt the band snap within your core. 

Angell growled when she felt your release coat all over her strap and bed, the comments all excited when you finally came thanks to Angell’s efforts. While you took a breather and laid back on the bed to smile blissfully at the chat, it seemed that Angell had other plans, as she let you take a break for a few seconds before hovering her cum-stained strap over your lips. Shocked by how bold she was, you gazed up at Angell with curious eyes.

“One of them suggested you clean me off…” Angell murmured, a little shy but clearly willing as she pushed the tip to your lips. “And…I would like that.”

You only chuckled at her statement before leaning in and grabbing her soaked strap, wrapping your lips around the head and beginning to bob your head up and down. 

Alicent Hightower*Dreams

Pairing: alicent x f!septa!reader

Kinktober Day eighteen: corruption kink with Alicent Hightower – a new septa arrive at court but none of the thoughts on Alicent’s minds are holy

Word count: 1635

Warnings: religious corruption, corruption kink, relgious guilt, making out, flashing, f! receiving oral, multiple orgasm, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Alicent was a pure and pious woman. Anyone would agree the queen loved her gods but they didn’t notice the way her eyes chased after the new septa they’d sent to the court. Alicent however had noticed the lingering looks her sons would give her and how you’d squirm out of their grasps.

Often times you would run directly to her side, quoting scripture or asking her opinions on what you had read. She had taken you under her wing, at least that’s what all would think when she would stay up all hours praying with you. what they didn’t see was how she would stare at your covered breaths or dream about what you looked like under your habit.

She knew it was wrong. At first at least. But one night after an exceptionally good dream she’d had of you creeping into her chambers in the middle of the night another thought crossed her mind. Perhaps you were the maiden, sent to the queen to be a comfort. After all, if the men could find their comfort in another’s arms what was the harm of Alicent learning another way to pray.

Despite her attempts to justify her thoughts Alicent made no attempts to lure you in. you were pure and innocent and just and virtuous and fucking beautiful down on your knees. Well, that’s what Alicent had been thinking about, hand between her thighs one night when a knock on the door shocked her.

She quickly tied her robe around her naked frame, making her way to the door. she opened it a crack at first but when she saw your face shinning up at her she quickly ushered you in. “Is everything alright?” she asked, motioning you to join her on her sofa.

“I’m sorry did I wake you your grace?” you asked, nervousness suddenly washing over you.

Your eyes were trained on the sofa, but you looked up to meet hers as her hand took yours in hers, “You need not worry. You are welcome here at any hour. Now tell me why is it you cannot sleep?”

“I was wondering,” you started, your eyes darting away as you searched for the words, “if I may ask you a question? Just its not the type of question that I am proud to have to ask,” you said, your eyes finally meeting hers again.

Her eyes squinted, looking at you with concern as she squeezed your hand, “You may ask me anything you wish,” she assured you, brushing the hair out of your face without a thought.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the contact, your mouth growing dry. “How does one handle improper thoughts?” you eventually managed to spit out, “even when I know they are wrong they will not leave my mind and I wonder. Does it make me as bad as my thoughts?” you said, your tongue rambling as soon as your mouth had opened.

Alison shuffled forward, prompting you to finally hush and look into her eyes, “We cannot control my thoughts though,” she said, trying to hide the intrigue in her voice, “it may help if I were to know what thoughts you were having,”

Her words made your throat close up and your eyes grow wide, “Are they thoughts of another?” she asked and after a moment you finally nodded yes. Alison felt her stomach flip as she continued, “is it the princes?” she heard the words before she could think but the fact you shook your head no made her sigh in relief, “Another man?” another no. Alicent paused a moment, her head tilting, “Are your thoughts of another woman?” she tentatively asked.

You paused for longer this time before nodding, “I can’t control them your grace. They come to me at all hours and this night in my sleep,”

“What kind of thoughts?” she cut you off and you felt your skin tingle.

“Impure thoughts,” you whispered, your innocent eyes darting around despite being alone making Alicent want you even more, “I’ve heard stories of women who enjoy others company. Like how man and wife are supposed to,”

“Did your higher septas tell you about these things?” Alicent asked and you shook your head no again, “another septa perhaps? Or a certain book?”

“No my lady but my thoughts, they cannot be okay surely?” you asked, your hands tightening on hers.

Alicent knew it was wrong to indulge these thoughts, to bring you down with her, but your lips were so close and looked softer than any man, “Why would the gods punish us for things that do not hurt another?” she whispered.

“Is it not wrong my queen? To covet another?”

“Only if they do not wish your thoughts,” she whispered back, “Tell me my sweet, who do you dream of?”

Your eyes flickered to the floor, your skin hotter than a fireplace as Alicent shuffled closer, her fingers lifting your chin gently, “You, your grace. I’m sorry I do not mean to cause offence I shall send myself back to the- “

“That won’t be necessary,” her words cut you off, her hand moving to cup your jaw, “Tell me something sweet septa. Why would the gods make something that feels so good a sin?”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out, “My queen we shouldn’t,”

“But why?”

“Because it’s wrong,”

“According to who?” she asked, her breath fanning your face, “if you can quote me a scripture I shall stop. But I for one see no reason why we should not make the most of the gifts the gods give us,”

Her words sent shivers down your spine as you looked deep into her eyes, “Tell me to stop,” she said, her lips moving closer till they brushed against yours with each word, “and I will,” before you could respond you felt her lips crash onto yours and your own lips kissed back surprising you both.

Her hands moved to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer making you gasp giving her the ability to slip her tongue in. a rush went through Alicent and before you knew it, she’d pulled you over to straddle her lap, your dress bunching up showing your bare thighs.

You gasped when you felt her pull your head covering off but groaned when you felt her fingers rake through your hair. It was softer than she had thought. When she felt you whine into the kiss another rush ran through her as she pushed you off her and stood.

You sat back on the sofa, beginning to stutter out an apology when Alicent undid the knot of her robe. Your jaw slackened as she pushed the fabric from her shoulders, leaving her bare for your eyes to marvel at.

This time she moved to straddle your lap, her fingers moving to unlace the back of your septa dress. She pushed it down enough to reveal the tops of your collarbones. You whimpered as she kissed down your neck, her teeth grazing your collarbones as her hands groped your breasts over the fabric that covered them.

“Would you like to see what I was dreaming of little one?” she asked between the kisses she placed along your skin. All you could do was nod then watch in amazement as she dropped to her knees, her hands slipping under her dress.

You tried to stutter out a question, but you were soon hushed, “Relax little one. Trust me,” she said, kissing your knee as she pushed your skirt up your legs till you were bare to her. Alicent loved the way your eyes refused to meet hers as your skin grew red.

You felt her warm breath fan over your wet cunt. all the dreams you had had were becoming real but as she pressed a kiss to your clit you realised it felt better than you could have imagined. Far better than your own hand.

You gasped as Alicent began to lick strips up your cunt, devouring every morsel of you as her tongue hit places you did not know existed. You felt your stomach tightening and an unfamiliar feeling begin to spread through your body.

Your hand moved to push her away but Alicent wrapped her arms tightly around your thighs. When your peak hit you, a loud whine left your lips, “oh god,” you cried as you came undone on her tongue but Alicent was not ready to stop.

“You taste so sweet,” she mumbled against your core making you shiver. When you felt her fingers tease your hole your hips bucked, “such an eager student,” she praised, kissing your inner thigh.

When she pushed her fingers in slowly, she relished in the whines you let out and how your hips bucked against her hand. You moaned as she began to curl her fingers, hitting the spots even you struggled to find in the darkness of your room.

However, your body jerked when her lips wrapped around your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Your grace,” you panted, your hands gripping her hair as your head fell back against the chair. “I can’t please,”

“But you can,” she said, sending shivers up your spine as she left an open mouth kiss to your clit. As you felt her teeth graze the sensitive bud you couldn’t stop your legs tightening around her head as you came undone by her tongue a second time so far. Alicent could die happy like this she thought but she had no time for that now.

Not as she pulled herself to her feet and grabbed your hands, “What are you doing?” you asked, complying none the less as you stood in front of her.

“I’m not done with you yet my sweet. It is time for your dreams to become true,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

thinking about princess reader and royal knight rhaenyra…

as the young princess of dorne, tourneys were nothing new to you. you’d never really cared for them, finding the blood and violence unnecessary and borderline barbaric. when you could you would beg your mother to come up with an excuse to your father to let you stay at the palace, citing sickness, weariness, anything.

but this time you had no choice. because as your family entered into the royal watching booth, politely greeting the members of your father court, your father stops before extending his hand to your guest - king viserys of westeros himself.

you’d heard many things about him, partially from overhearing your mothers gossip and from the workers talking a little too loudly when you’d sneak in the kitchens. you obviously knew he was a targaryen, his long silver gold hair and peculiar eyes telling anyone with a short distance of his heritage.

but more importantly you’d heard that he was a mostly kind and generous king, with a large portion of his people happy under his reign. there was no better option for your father to invite to his event.

you gracefully presented yourself to him, smiling when he kissed the back of your hand and gave you a polite compliment. he introduced his wife, the beautiful queen aemma, and his vibrant young son baelon who excitedly shook his hand at you and everyone else in the booth.

after the introductions everyone say down to let the people know the tourney could commence, cheers ringing as you settled into place in front of your father and next to rosalei, one of the fellow younger ladies in court who was your closest friend ever since she snuck some sugared treats to your room when the head cook had banned you from them for a week.

the even was like any other : knights got in their horses, they picked up giant sticks, then ran at each other on said horses with said sticks and tried to knock the other man down. yet again the event did nothing to entertain you, focusing on the small conversation you were keeping up with rosalei while paying attention to the ones around you. for now, your father and his guest had discovered their shared love for the histories and had veered to the animosity but occasional generosity between their people.

your father is close to getting on to the topic of a equally beneficial trade deal when whispers from the small folk take over the crowd, some standing up and pointing at a contender who had entered the fighting area. you bend over the edge of the booth to catch a look, ignoring your mother chastising your posture and manners.

it’s a knight everyone’s looking at, that’s true, but a knight unlike you’ve ever seen before. their armor is black and scarily imposing, a beautiful construction of steel with strong pleats and swoops. their horse is somehow darker than the armor, black as knight with a bright sun medallion around its neck. its only then you notice the flag in their hand, along with the dragon emblems on their armor.

"you have a competing knight, your grace?" you ask, turning your head around when you are only met with silence. the visiting kings face is red, smile so forced it looks like he’s going to quickly gain a cramp in his jaw. the queen is resting a hand on his shoulder, subtly trying to comfort him while they exchange hushed whispers.

“said…show strength…not what i meant-“

the queen tries to comfort him more before they look in your direction, along with every one else in your booth. your body goes rigid for a second before you realize they’re looking behind you, turning your body to see what was so intriguing.

the targaryen knight, poised right beneath the opening of the booth, helmeted head and joust sword tipped towards you. and even without being able to see their face you know their eyes are trained on you.

you can also tell that everyone is waiting for you to do something. so with all the farce you can muster you gently pick up your favor, raising it high enough for the people to see, and let it slide down onto the joust.

no further words are shared, the warrior staying in place for a few more seconds before goading their horse back into position. as you watch you plop back into your seat, breathing slightly stuttering at the encounter while your friend pokes and prods for an explanation for whatever that was.

even if you had the time you wouldn’t be able to say much, feeling like a warm thick jelly has suddenly made its home inside your throat. put of the corner of your you can see one of the kings guards looking at you, but before you can turn to look back at him the sudden roars of the crowd snap your attention to the game.

almost like a bolt of lighting does the warrior speed down the jousting lane, sword aimed steady at the burly man who had bested most of the other men in the contest. just when his sword is aimed inches away from the knight, then bend their body dangerously close to falling off of their horse before thrusting at just the right moment to knock the man down, the sound of galloping hooves and crunching metal all you can hear.

the cheers from the commoners is near deafening, but all you can focus on is the knight, who instead of basking in the success and praise is yet again looking in your direction. but looking back at the aghast king viserys, you can’t exactly tell who they are trying to impress.

after congratulating and thanking the people for coming and competing, and giving a personal thanks to the king for making his way down to your kingdom, your father dismisses everyone to enjoy the other tourney activities while the royal families go to prepare for later celebrations. after giving the royal family of westeros a quick goodbye, you grab rosealai’s hand and hurry out of the booth to grab a quick bite from one of the fair booths and to try to talk all you can about what just happened.

but right before you ca leave the booth you’re stopped in your tracks, no one other than the black knight standing in front of you. you blink up at them, waiting for them to speak before their hands raise to take off their helmet to reveal themselves . it’s almost in slow motion that you take in every part of their face - a soft angled jaw, pink lips, a broad nose, short silver hair -

“rhaenyra! finally, please show a bit of grace to our hosts and introduce yourself.” king viserys comes up beside you, gently scooting beside you to wrap an arm around the armored shoulders of the knight. “the last impression i’ll have my daughter making is that she’s yet another rude and british knight.”

neither of you move however, gazes locked and bodies still. only about a thousand thoughts are running through your head at the current moment.

the knight is a woman. the knight is an attractive woman. the knight is princess rhaenyra. princess rhaenyra who came up to your booth and quietly asked for your favor.

without a word spoken or breaking ye contact, the heavy hand of the princess grabs yours, physically strong but gently soft, bringing it up slowly before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

you’ve always been able to keep your composure in the face of extreme emotions, a necessary trait as a royal who had to make quick and harsh decisions. sadly that all seems to be going out the window as you feel your cheeks warm and your breathing get faster.

“it is an honor to meet you, princess. and even greater an honor to win a competition with your favor. i hope similar opportunities make themselves available in the future.”

her voice is melodic yet curt, no room for doubt or wrongful interpretation. you break her gaze to look down at her lips, looking back up to see her doing the same before a sly smile appears on her face.

clearly the moment goes on a little too long for comfort, the king further ushering his daughter to greet your father and mother after giving the two of you a worried look. when her body passes yours you can feel her hand discreetly brush against your side, shivering slightly at the cold of the steel even through the fabrics of your dress.

your father quickly motions for one of his guard to guide you back to the castle before turning to your guests with a welcoming but greedy smile. you can feel rosalei’s barey contained excitement as you rush out of the entryway, not before looking back one last time and seeing purple eyes already trained on your body.

maybe tourneys weren’t so boring after all.

can you tell i don’t really know shit about tourneys. sorry if some things are inaccurate i’m getting everything through hotd, asoiaf wiki, and tiktok’s 💔

sigh, can't stop thinking about riding abby's thigh...mmmm. smutty yap ahead!!

abby's taught muscular thigh, slotted so perfectly in between your legs provided otherworldly pleasure, supplying the most brain-meltingly delicious pressure on your swollen bud, and she didn't even have to put in any effort. when she did put in the effort, let's just say your ability to walk was affected afterwards. ♡

"that's it, doin' so good for me." her strong hands land on the side of your hips to assist you in grinding on her, she's pulling you down forcefully, yet there's still a certain gentleness about her touches. the assuredness of her actions only making you miles wetter.

the rolling of your hips stutters as the sensations in your lower abdomen build, the blissed-out whimpers falling from your lips only increasing in volume, frequency, but most of all, desperation. you find solace in the crook of abby's neck, wrapping shaky arms around her, burying your face in her and taking her soft skin in between your teeth to quiet yourself. that earns a chuckle from her, and her hand snakes up your spine—originating waves of chills to spread throughout your body—and lands at the nape of your neck, where she takes your hair in her palm and pulls. she doesn't pull hard enough to cause pain, but firmly enough to separate you from her and make you look at her, saying through amused wavers of her voice, "nuh-uh, none of that, wanna hear your pretty voice."

and she knows the edge of her tone got to you and flew straight to your pussy, because she feels you clench around nothing and gush against her exposed skin. you resume your movements, they're growing in urgency as the relief approached, evolving from smooth ruts to noisy smacks of your sopping skin against hers while you bounced. you close your eyes and let your head fall back, no longer restricting any noises and allowing them to fill her ears freely. she grins, and watches you in awe, a blush decorating her beautiful features, a sparkle in her periwinkle eyes, and her rosy lips morphing into a wide grin. she mutters more praises and moves to aid you in riding out the high that hit you like a truck, and she commits the ethereal sight of you using her body like this to her memory.

"that's it, keep fucking yourself on me some more, yeah?"

i know two posts like not even 8 hours apart is crazy business but one's high effort (yes im plugging it. read, sillies 🤭) one took three seconds and i WANT THIS OUT MY DRAFTS ALREADY LEMME LIVE I HATE WHEN SHIT MARINATES IN THERE NEED IT GONEEEE

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

ㅤㅤㅤ— 🎀 cockwarming lawyer!abby 𐚁 18+

ㅤdaily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post

she’s tried so hard to focus on her work. focus mainly and solely on a new case— a case that she has wanted for months, and has finally been given the all go to take it. have at it. make it hers. but she made the mistake of working on it with you at home. she can smell your fruity perfume from here. the perfume she could spend hours smelling on your neck when she’s kissing and biting you there. can practically taste the cherry chapstick on your lips. the same one you’ve always used. she still remembers the first time you kissed and refused to let you change it. you didn’t have work today, so it was your lazy day. lounging around the apartment. catching up on your TV shows. making a new dish you had seen in your cookbook later than evening, if you wished to.

“baby?”

you hummed from the living room— or you said something, she wasn’t really sure. she sure as hell wasn’t paying any attention if you had spoken, abby was more focused on the way you licked your fingers after each strawberry you picked up from the container, and ate it. moaning at the taste. moans that always had her head spinning, no matter what the occasion was.

“can you come here? please?” god was she actually already begging? yes. did she care? apparently not. she just needed to feel you. hold you. hell, even look at you.

unbuttoning her suit jacket like she had suddenly gotten hit with a massive heat wave just from watching you, abby heaved out a quiet sigh, and leaned back in her chair. just in time to spot you walking over to her. smiling mischievously and finishing the last strawberry.

“what’s up?” came your soft voice. fingers threading through her soft blonde hair, nails scratching comfortingly at her scalp. your body melted into her touch when she’s wrapping her arms around your legs, and pulling you into her lap. your lips parting quickly with a gasp when you can feel the strap in her pants, that she always insisted on wearing just in case, against your cunt. “abs—” 

“need to feel you” was she drunk? “please. just—” god she was so weak for you. so weak for everything and anything you did that she would do anything for you. “let me feel you” she murmured, her blue— hooded eyes meeting your slightly wide yet sparkling ones and she couldn’t keep her hands in one place when you smiled down at her. 

“wouldn’t that be distracting for you, Miss Anderson?” you truly were a tease, weren’t you?

“don’t care, need to feel you” was all she said, lustfully. horny. 

her eyes watched you like a hawk. like she always did really. she never wanted to miss anything. first they trailed over the slice of your nose, to the way your lips twitched, almost into a smile at her eagerness of needing you. to your soft eyes that looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

god you were truly such a beauty. 

if she had spent any more time looking at your face, she would have missed the way you climbed off her lap, grinned at the way she bites down on her lip when you looped your fingers into the thin material of your panties and pulled them down, still maintaining eye contact. you were aware of how much that drove her crazy. “are you sure this won’t distract you? you could never really focus on anything else when i would sit on your cock, baby” you lifted your shoulders up in a small shrug, biting back a smirk when all abby did was scoff. “okay well, don’t blame me if you get none of your work done” 

abby rolled her eyes, and threw her head back slightly. the action had her completely missing you kicking your panties— oblivious to the wet patch on them, to the side, but she didn’t miss the way your fingers fumbled with her belt. the sight was enough to always have her losing all remaining cool. especially when you’d sit on your knees, giggle and wink up at her. 

her breath hitched in her throat when you climbed back on her onto her lap. the shirt you were wearing— most probably hers, rolled up just slightly and her hands quickly found home on your thighs, stroking your skin with her thumbs slowly. “just—”

“abigail, if you tell me how to sit on your cock, i will get dressed, go out for dinner alone and leave you here to finish your work” you warned, squinting your eyes down at her.

“right, m’sorry” the blonde nodding, a blush coating the apples of her cheeks at your words. what the fuck was going on? how is she the one that’s shy right now?

those blue eyes flicker to your face when you’re placing one of your hands on her broad shoulders, and for a second abby can’t fucking breathe when she turns her head slightly at the perfect time to find you dribbling a thick glob of spit on the tip of the silicone, giggling under your breath and using your other hand to spread it around. “fuck” her voice suddenly breaking the longer she watched.

her hands were quick to sit higher on your hips, while one of yours gripped her shoulder tightly when you’re running the tip of the silicone through your folds, lips parting with soft gasps, and all abby can do is just fucking stare. watch you rub it back and forth a few times, nudging it against your hole before you chuckle, your eyes flicking up to hers. you were teasing her. you knew how much she loved to see you sinking down on her cock, and you weren’t giving her what she has wanted since she got home.

“sorry, baby. you just look really cute when you’re flustered and impatient” you giggled, placing a kiss right between the crease of her eyebrows, and sinking on her strap slowly. sucking in deep breaths at the stretch. 

you were going to be the death of her one day.

your face was hot, forehead already starting to trickle with sweat when she whispered soft ‘it’s okay’ and ‘take your time’ into your ear. her bigger hands ran up and down your thighs, squeezing at your skin gently, and feathered kisses up and down your neck. as much as she needed to just to feel you close, she never rushed you.  you were right about one thing though, was she going to be able to focus? 

she was going to have to trust her gut and just take one for the team.

you, on the other hand, were not focused at all. not with how she was shifting around in her fucking chair, her hips accidentally jolting upwards and you were biting down on your lip harshly when the silicone slipped deeper, nudging against your walls. the true question was how were you going to sit here, snuggly keeping her cock warm for the remaining time she had on her work without a single piece of attention? 

just as she had went to pick up her pen for the 100th time today, abby clenched her jaw tightly at the sudden whines coming from you. you were trying so hard to bury your face in her neck and keep them muffled by her skin, but it was failing miserably. “baby, i know—” she murmured, tightening her arm around your waist. “just want you close. need to feel you. haven’t been this close to you in weeks. and m’sorry—”

you weren’t making this any easier on her, not with the way you were slowly moving around on her lap, and it’s like she can fucking feel you. the point of the pen hasn’t even hit the paper yet and she’s wanting nothing more than to push all her work onto the floor and make you cum as many times as you want. the way her arm was holding onto you had your brain cloudly, already drunk on the heavy feeling of the pine body wash she had used this morning. “abs—” you whimpered, tightening your arms around her neck, slowly rocking your hips back and forth, and letting out quiet gasped breaths with each movement.

the way you said her name had her reeling, brain going into overdrive, and grip tightening on your body. she didn’t understand why she thought this idea would work. having you in her lap, sitting on her cock, looking pretty, and waiting patiently for her to be done, would be the best idea but she just missed you so much. sure, you were in the same home as her, but to her, you felt so far away on that couch and she needed you so close that not even a sheet of paper would fit between you both.

she turns her head and presses a kiss on your cheek, hips bucking up when she’s trying to get a little more comfortable, and she gritted her teeth when you abruptly nipped and bit at her neck, warning her. your fingers still thread through her hair, tugging and pulling at random strands, trying to distract yourself— though that wasn’t helping her, for even 30 minutes give or take. already wanting nothing more than her to be done, or at least give your attention some clit. but she wasn’t even doing that. “abby, please—”

“i promise i will be done soon, and you will have all my attention, okay?” she tried to compromise, key word try— she was trying not to grind her hips up into you, and fuck you like you deserve each time you let out a whimper next to her ear, but she was regretting this entire thing. having your pretty girlfriend warming your cock while trying to work wasn’t ever going to end in a good way until you were done with what you were doing. “i need you here, please— just for a while, and i promise i will give you whatever you want” she pleaded, screwing her eyes shut tightly when you’re shifting around on her lap, the back of the strap rubbing her clit.

her words went in one ear and right out the other. you could barely focus on the way her lips moved, let alone focus on what she was saying. you were only thinking about how deep she was, how perfectly the silicone filled you up. you were soaked, no doubt about it, you were sure you were dripping onto her pants, but if you were, neither you or abby mentioned it.

the pen was moving quickly against the paper, finally gained enough composure to start writing— jesus christ, has it only been a few minutes since she asked you over here? a few minutes that you’ve been snuggly sitting on her cock? god. abby was biting back her smirks and stifling back subtle laughs when you suddenly let a out a high-pitched whine, the hand she had on your waist had moved, and slipped under her shirt and gripped one of your tits in her huge hands. pinching, pulling, and rolling your hardened nipples between her fingers. 

“you’re doing so good, baby. just sit here looking all pretty for me for a little longer” she mumbled, slowly grinding her hips up, blue eyes flickering up to your face and found your eyes fluttering closed and sinking your teeth into your lower lip. you were already so far gone that you barely registered the huge grin on her fucking face. “just keep my cock warm, and you can have whatever you want when i’m done filling this report. I’ll fill you up so good tonight for being a good girl, my good girl, okay?” was she taunting you? moving her hips so slowly, grinding up into you just to tease you, warn you of what was coming later when you finally had all her attention?

“m’your good girl” you nodded, pressing your head against her shoulder. drunk and delirious on her. her sweet yet deep and raspy voice. her pine-scented body wash. her hand on your tits, switching between the two so the other wasn’t left out. everything about her, and everything she was doing— fuck, she was only talking to you and lightly touching you, but it was enough to have more slick pooling between your legs and your body melting more into her chest. “m’your good girl” you repeated, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

“you are, baby” the blonde hummed, eyebrow quirking up, watching the way you’re slipping your hand down to between your legs, gasping into her neck when your fingers find your clit. whining in protest when abby’s quick to remove her hand from one of your tits just to grab your hand and pin your arm behind your back. “be my good girl, yeah?” she growled, clenching her jaw tightly. 

“i need—”

“i know what you need, and i will give it to you when i am finished. don’t make me shove your panties into your mouth to get you to behave, baby. although, i can’t do that, you’d fucking love that too much” she’s scoffing, tutting under her breath, and grinding her teeth together when you’re moving your hips again. 

you’re lifting your head from her shoulder when her fingers grip your chin between them lightly, smirking at the sight of your tongue running over your lips, slowly running it over her thumb. and she sucks in a deep breath when you’re wrapping your lips around her thumb, pulling it onto your mouth and sucking greedily. “yeah, there you go, baby” she nodded, jaw slack and eyes wide. “imagine it’s my cock, and let me finish up here then you can get the real thing” 

still kinda rusty, idk how to feel about this but i missed lawyer!abby 🤍🎀

‘HITTIN MY PHONE IS SO RIGHT !

?: You can’t seem to put an end to a salacious affair between you and your boss. However, lately with the new cameras being installed around units, it’s getting increasingly risky for you two. What’ll it be, your job or Abby’s? / A.A x Fem!Reader

!: hellurrrr.. xD haven’t proof-read this ngl bc my eyes hurt/ ALSO AN OLD DRAFT I HATE..im srry :P

“Fuckin’ hell..she’s just clamping onto me..” Abby coos from where her head is thrown back on the office chair; you, on her lap, rocking your hips deliciously into her, each snap feeling like a tidal wave of pleasure surging through Abby’s veins. You’d never in a hundred years think this would be a common event that took place between you and your employer after hours, a dirty secret that was buried deep within Abby’s Law-Firm.

“S-shitttt, don’t speak like that..” You whine, digits burying themself into Abby’s Golden locks when it seems like her pace speeds up; “Can’t when this messy cunt ‘s talking to me..” Abby takes a sharp inhale of air when you rip open the first two buttons of her blazer, scattering across the room.

“Not fair..’wanna take ‘em off..” You whine, wrapping your arms tighter around your lovers neck— soft tits pressed up into Abby’s face where she sneakily kisses around your areola, taking a nipple into her warm mouth, earning a weak huff from you.

“Shh..gotta be quiet, doll..can’t risk having you heard.” She whispers against your skin, pulling you down to press a messy kiss against your lips, “that I have ‘fuckin favorites…”; You shriek when she manages to slam you even harder on the XL strap, the one that’s tied oh-so-perfectly around her hips.

The buzzing on her desk brings her away from your lips and her attention instead, is on the lit-up phone, grabbing it with ease as she maintains a rhythm with how she bounces you, caller ID reading OWEN.

“Not this timing..” She groans, shushing your mewls once again when she takes your head and slightly angles it into her neck as an attempt to muffle your noises while she takes the call; “Get to the point.”

While she talks, you sink your teeth into her nape unexpectedly, illiciting a dirty, guttural moan from Abby to the point she almost lets the phone slip out of her grasp, “Uh..you okay?” Owen asks, confused at what was happening on the other end of the phone as he peels an orange; Abby hums at this, poorly trying to reaffirm Owen with eyes clenched closed as you leave harsh hickeys on her neck, ones she’d have to indefinitely cover up all week with series of collered pantsuits.

“P-please, ‘Abs..”You pant, saliva stretching from your quivering lips to her bruised neck. Abby pathetically caves in, murmuring mantras of ‘hear you, baby’ into the humid office air, head spinning and the call long forgotten as she throws it across the desk; her obsession with you ran deep, from the very moment you stepped into the office scene, all pencil skirts and painted lips— you were something she needed around here, and maybe the only thing that kept her hauled up in this shit-hole while all her other colleagues ran themselves into bankruptcy and alcoholism.

“I’ll give it to my sweet girl, ‘always do..ah—? S-she just needs to be ‘fuckin patient..” Abby’s breath hitching when you scrape your nailbeds across her, now, unclothed back. “You’re so—o ‘fuckin nasty..begging to fuck when they’ve installed surveillance every square inch of the damn place—love my pretty g-girl..”

“G-gna cum, pleaseee.. if you keep ‘talkin to me like t—this!” You stutter out with furrowed brows, annoyance and arousal a mixture when she picks you up and slams you directly against the desk now, a stark contrast to where you two were meekly teasing eachother earlier on her swivel chair but shit, does this angle make you take her even deeper..

After some time of her relentlessly pounding into you, and tears falling from your glossy eyes, down your full cheeks— you finally crack. This doesn’t end it, no, because after 2 orgasms ripped out of you— Abby leans down and kisses your cheek softly, her lips lingering condescendingly, “one more before we go, hm? Then we’ll clock out and i’ll take us home, baby”, all while two fingers work figure 8’s on your puffy clit, soothing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Home?

You look at her up from heavy lidded eyes, sleep wanting to consume you completely but you oblige, mewling when Abby lowers herself to her knees and begins kitten-licking at your sensitive pussy; maybe you were obsessed with the blonde as much as she was with you, even if it could cost you both your jobs potentially one day.

"From fire and blood we were born. United we will burn"

° | !English is not my first language! | ° | pairing: Yan!Rhaenyra x Targ!Reader ° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.

For Rhaenyra, being attached to you since birth was normal. You were born together, with Rhaenyra clinging tightly to your heel with no intention of breaking free or parting.

It was just his birthright above any title or throne. It was the other half of her soul, a life that had blossomed with her in her mother's womb and was destined to stay that way.

Together. united for an eternity that would extend beyond life and death.

This was how things should be, and she cared little about the laws of men or the condemnation of the seven. Dragon blood flowed through his veins. Proof of your rights.

In the early years, the princess' behavior was not seen with suspicious or malicious looks, she was just a sister wanting her company. What was wrong?

Even though it raised eyebrows every time the young princess became excessively irritated when you mentioned other ladies or had the opportunity to discuss matters deeper with them. Why did you need others? Rhaenyra was there, blood of her blood, with an infinite desire to listen to you.

King Viserys reassured the worried with soft, relaxed smiles and negligent behavior. He was blind to the situation unfolding in front of him.

Rhaenyra has always been obstinate and somewhat petty, her worst personality traits always came to the surface when the subject was related to you. Has another lady looked at you excessively? Rhaenyra would spare no bitter words or the cruelest lies her mind could come up with.

The princess also had no qualms or shame about skipping boring classes with the Septas or taking you out of your classes with the Miestres just to fly with you through the skies with her dragons or steal lemon cakes from the kitchen.

But when you want to teach her something or read some old book that has suddenly become very interesting, she never protests.

Sharing your attention, even with your parents, is out of the question. She's the only person you need to worry about.

And don't doubt your ability to be manipulative or play mind games. She will definitely cry and pout if you try to reprimand her behavior in any way.

How could you do this to your younger sister? She just cares so much about you!

Her behavior only gets worse as she enters adolescence • The hormones and feelings that arise, controlling your thoughts and actions.

She will certainly overhear and have conversations about courtship and knights in shining armor with other court ladies. Even though Rhaenyra found them all boring and annoyingly silly, the conversations about the other boys were interesting. • Every time one of the girls told, between laughs, something new she had done with a gentleman, Rhaenyra couldn't stop letting her thoughts wander. • What if it was her and you? • If it were her and you secretly exchanging kisses in the empty, forgotten corners of the fortress? • The feeling of tingling and restlessness in the belly. A heat that quickly rose through your body until your cheeks were red. • She knew these thoughts were not correct or appropriate. She knew of the Septas' countless boring monologues about purity, women's duty, etc.

The kind of thing she had never paid attention to before. But she found herself being terrorized and reflecting more and more in recent days.

The thoughts that haunted his dreams at dusk became more constant. With only the moon as a witness to his restlessness and confusion. • She just knew she needed you. She needed something that even she didn't know what it was. But it was running through his veins on instinct. • The girl suddenly became more demanding with your attention focused solely on her. She felt bitter and betrayed by any mere exchange of glances between you and any other woman or man. Lady or not. Lord or servant.

The Gods granted her such beautiful eyes for the sole purpose of looking at her alone. • She felt possessive and angry. With a growing pain, deadly and bitter, as fierce as if you were hers and had been unfaithful.

And when she heard whispers about the possibility of a marriage being arranged for you, She knew she couldn't keep her feelings quiet any longer.

No. She wouldn't sit by and watch you belong to someone less deserving.

I couldn't bear to see your other half give himself to someone other than her.

You were born to burn with her. And it was time for others to know this.

Synopsis; you’ve always been fascinated by dragons, admiring them from afar but never dared to get close until your friend, Rhaenyra decided to change that.

Pairing; Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader

This is so self indulgent but Milly’s Rhaenyra is so dear to me <3

Ever since you could remember, you had a fascination for dragons, but in all honesty, how could you not? They were majestic creatures, beautiful and terrifying by their sizes. You had heard and read many tales about them, the battles they fought and won along with their riders, the riderless dragons and some old myths.

One of your favorite pastimes was watching the dragons fly, it didn’t exactly occur everyday but whenever you had the opportunity to watch them in the sky, you enjoyed it. Never really daring to come closer to the dragonpit, you hadn’t gotten near a dragon yet, and it wasn’t something you minded, as beautiful they were, they were equally terrifying.

It was amusing really, how your friend Rhaenyra, would tell you about her flights atop her dragon, Syrax. The way she talked about her dragon, you would never think she was this impressively big and tough creature which could kill you in the blink of an eye if willing to.

But honestly, the most amusing part about all this was that you, who never dared to approach the dragons you saw and were fascinated by, had befriended a Targaryen, whose House was represented by dragons and were known to ride them.

Rhaenyra was amused by your fear of dragons and had teased you about it many times, but never to make fun of you- she understood why people feared dragons when they weren’t born or grew up around them. The Princess tried a couple of times to bring you to the dragonpit, she tried to convince you, even bribe you but she would never force you.

She would love to give you a ride on her dragon’s back, she wanted to share this part of her with you but would wait until you would be ready to meet Syrax. Deep down, she was convinced that one day, you two would fly above the Sea together.

Sitting in your favorite spot, you were safely admiring from afar the Dragonpit, as you had gotten here later than usual, you wondered if Rhaenyra had already left with her dragon. Watching her pet Syrax before flying away was what you enjoyed watching the most, the Princess’ bond with her dragon was beautiful.

In a way, they were similar and maybe, that was why their bond seemed to be so special- both of them were majestic and tough, while also being kind, as kind as a dragon could get obviously. You hadn’t gotten to hear Rhaenyra speaks Valyrian many times, but the few times you did, you had been subjugated, the language you didn’t understand rolled off her tongue so smoothly, you could’ve listened to her speak this foreign language for the whole day.

“ What could possibly make my dear friend smile?” questioned a voice- the voice you loved to hear the most as she sat down next to you.

“ My apologies Princess, I was lost in my thoughts.”

Rhaenyra scrunched up her nose, hearing her title, you always liked to use her title here and there- it suited her so well, “ you know I like Nyra better when I’m with you.”

“ I know, but Princess suits you so well, I’m enjoying using it while I can, one day you’ll be Queen Rhaenyra.”

“ If that was to happen, I’d still be Nyra to you.”

You smiled fondly, hearing that no matter her title or position in the hierarchy, your relationship wouldn’t change, “ and I’d always be by your side.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, it was something you deeply enjoyed with Rhaenyra- you didn’t always have to talk to enjoy each other company.

Her hand gently rested on top of yours, earning your attention as you raised a brow at her sudden gesture- not that you minded, the Princess gave you a sheepish smile, “ would you do me the honor to visit Syrax with me today?”

“ You know what my answer to this is already.”

“ Please? For your Princess?”

It was always hard to deny her request when it came to accompany her to the dragonpit, you knew how much it would mean to her but your fear always took over you and you just couldn’t agree to do such, “ do you wish to see me make a fool out of myself? I would be terrified this near to Syrax, or any dragon for that matter.”

“ Nonsense! You would never make a fool of yourself. Syrax is a good girl, she will like you.”

“ And if she does not?”

“ She will. And even if she did not, she would never harm you. She knows I care deeply for you.”

Your heart swelled upon hearing these words, you never doubted that Rhaenyra cared about you, but hearing the affirmation was pleasant nonetheless. She meant more than the Seven Kingdoms to you and you hoped she was aware of it.

As you remained quiet for a little bit, Rhaenyra took it as a silent agreement, that you finally gave in- which wasn’t really the case, but seeing how the Princess’ face lit up as she bounced off the place she was sitting next to you, you didn’t have the heart to tell her she misunderstood.

And there you were, minutes later, walking in the dragonpit, the very place you swore to never walk into- but seeing how excited she was for you to finally meet Syrax, it was endearing and giving you enough bravery to not cower away at the very last moment.

“ Do not hesitate to tell me if you are too scared, the last thing I’d want is for you to keep a bad memory from this meeting.”

You were already scared and apprehending meeting the dragon, so much that you knew words would fail you if you attempted to talk- all you could offer was a thankful nod to your friend, appreciating that she was willing to let you back out if it was your wish, at any moment.

As Rhaenyra called out for Syrax, your heart was pounding in your chest and breathing became harder for you- the dragon was huge, bigger than you imagined when you’d see her from afar but she was also way prettier than what you expected. Syrax didn’t show any sign of distrust as she came closer as Rhaenyra was by your side.

“ Do you trust me, my dear?”

It was such a simple question, and you couldn’t even begin to think if you trusted her- it was impossible to imagine not trusting Rhaenyra. If you hadn’t been so intimidated by the dragon standing in front of your very eyes, maybe you would’ve realized she didn’t ask this randomly, “ of course I do, with my life.”

Rhaenyra’s hand found yours, the same way it did when you were both sitting at the place you enjoyed to watch the dragons from. You didn’t exactly register your friend’s intention yet, believing it was just to reassure you.

“ Rytsas, Syrax. Bisa iksos Y/N, issa jorrãelagon raqiros, ziry iksos zūgagon yn jãhor gaomagon daor ōdrikagon.”

Not understanding a single word Rhaenyra had just said, you were left mesmerized by the way she so gently spoke to the dragon whom huffed as if to reply to her rider. However, you could kind of imagine what your friend said to Syrax when the Princess smiled warmly at you and placed your hand against Syrax’ yellow scales.

It was terrifying really, you froze right there, not sure what you should do or not do, but as terrified as you were, you were also marveled by the dragon- she didn’t seem to dislike your touch or even mind it, allowing your hand to stay on her. You dared to do something you never thought off and slowly moved your hand against her scales, essentially petting the creature.

“ She’s beautiful.”

A smile spread across Rhaenyra’s face as she heard your statement, when you looked at her, her eyes were shining bright with happiness, “ she is, indeed!”

“ What did you tell her?” you couldn’t help your curiosity, you wished you could understand High Valyrian to share the language with the Princess and speak it with her freely.

“ I told Syrax your name and that you were scared but meant no harm.”

It made sense this was what she told her dragon, in a way, this had been a sort of presentation, to know you weren’t a threat. You nodded to your friend’s explanation, you were still amazed to be so close to a dragon, albeit not as scared as you had been right before meeting Syrax.

“ Would you perhaps like to fly with me?”

The Princess’ question was just as hopeful as her eyes were as she asked this, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to her, “ promise me we will not fly too high?”

as the world caves in. || multiple x reader

AND HERE IT IS / OUR FINAL NIGHT ALIVE / AND AS THE EARTH BURNS TO THE GROUND / OH GIRL IT’S YOU THAT I LIE WITH / AS THE ATOM BOMB LOCKS IN / OH GIRL IT’S YOU / I WATCH TV WITH / AS THE WORLD CAVES IN

cw. major character death

notes. felt silly

arlecchino

You find her against a broken pillar.

Her once pristine suit is in tatters. You can’t even discern anymore where red fabric ends and blood begins. The black feather-like horn in her hair has cracked, revealing crimson enamel, pulsing in tune with the balemoon above both your heads. Her curse, once up to her elbows, has creeped up to her shoulders, her neck, and just below her jaw. Each breath she takes is labored, pained. One of her wings lies uselessly by her side, while the other is just a stump.

She will die here.

But that’s fine, because you plan on dying right along with her.

Arlecchino’s head snaps up as you hobble over to her. The second coming of the cataclysm hadn’t exactly spared you either; a rifthound’s cursed teeth had sunk deep into your thigh. The wound is likely fatal on its own, though the abyssal corruption spreading through you at an alarming rate only solidifies your death sentence. Still, it doesn’t stop Arlecchino from snapping at you as you approach, brows furrowed, her clawed hands digging into dead soil.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses. You really know the extent of her injuries and exhaustion now—if she was in even slightly better condition, she’d have picked you up and flown you right back somewhere safe. But she isn’t, so you let yourself slide down the pillar next to her with a snort.

“What does it look like?” you huff. “I’m here for you, idiot.”

She gives you a look between incredulity and despair. “You—“

“If you think I’d ever leave you behind, I’m going to smack you.”

Arlecchino quiets at that briefly. You lean your head back against the pillar, a remnant of a building ravaged by the angry surge of the Abyss, and shut your eyes. You can feel Arlecchino’s eyes bore into the side of your face, tracing the line of your jaw, the swell of your cheek, then the shape of your lips, as if to memorize you. When she speaks again, her voice is remarkably soft.

“You’ll die,” she whispers, and you turn your head to her with a smile, meeting her eyes. You take her larger hand in your own—your wedding bands meet with a soft clink of metal.

“I’d follow you to oblivion and back, Peruere.”

Something in her expression shutters, and Peruere leans down to press her forehead against your own. She’s so close, like this. Close enough for you to see the way the veins and arteries in her neck pulse under curse-marked skin to a beat that mirrors your own; close enough for you to feel the way her breath fans over your cheek; close enough for you to kiss her.

And you do, free hand cradling her cheek while the other cups the nape of her neck. Peruere returns the kiss like she’s trying to press her soul against your lips. To give it to you instead of whatever higher power will claim it in the end. Her hand in yours squeezes gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. Her remaining wing rises, a little shakily, and wraps around you, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss, even as wetness gathers in your lashes.

Peruere wipes them away with her thumb. Draws back just enough to look you in the eyes one last time, selfishly. The earth wails in the distance, cracking and splintering, and the wind howls above your heads. The crimson balemoon shines impassively down as the herald of the apocalypse, cold and unfeeling. But Peruere’s wing around you is warm, and her palm caressing your cheek feels like being at home.

“To oblivion and back,” Peruere whispers, and then the world ends—

—but at least for you and her, it ends in love.

shalom

Shalom has always known you would meet a solitary end. She had said as much to you, back in the bureau when she had first met you—or rather, when you had first met her, in your fragmented memory. And some part of her was content with the fact. She’s smart, diligent. A HUSH. She could learn you utterly and completely, dive into and discover the depths of your heart before her time runs out.

She does achieve her goal, in the end. But she also falls terribly in love with you, and now the thought of being without you makes her unbroken heart constrict in her chest.

Now here she stands, in this field of lillies she once haunted. This realm of Mania, deceptively beautiful, with a cloudless blue sky stretching on endlessly. She can feel the gaze of the Illusory Moon crawl up her spine, but that is not her concern. No, her concern is you, standing off into the distance, alone—a solitary figure of grey against the blinding white. And somehow, you just know she’s there; like Orpheus for Eurydice, like something bone deep in you compels you to turn around and look.

But Shalom doesn’t disappear like Eurydice. Instead, she steps forward and slots herself into your arms instead with a hum, her hands splaying on your shoulder blades, holding you close. She buries her head in your neck, breathes in your scent—lillies, always lillies—and speaks.

“This is it, then.”

You nod. Card your fingers through her wine-red hair. “This is it.”

“It’s quite peaceful,” she muses, shifting to rest her ear against your chest. Your heartbeat thuds, calm and powerful, and Shalom lets her eyes flutter shut at the rhythm. You manage a small chuckle.

“For now. It’ll get quite ugly soon, at least on the outside,” you murmur. Your lips press a kiss to the top of her head. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She laughs at that. “There are many things I shouldn’t be, and yet, here we are. Mostly because of you, you know.”

“You know what I mean,” you huff, and she smiles. Of course she does. This is your solitary end, the cold calculus of the universe that demands your life in exchange for the world. If she was still HUSH, she’d see it as a bargain. But she’s not HUSH anymore, just Shalom, and suddenly the price is too high, too unacceptable.

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m selfish,” she admits, voice barely above the breeze rustling the flowers by your feet. “I don’t want to be in a world without you.”

Not when you are the one who gives it meaning.

You’re silent for a moment, before a rueful expression pulls at your lips. You shake your head with an affectionate sigh, resting your forehead against hers. You know better than to argue with her. Your hand finds hers, intertwining your fingers and squeezing gently. No words are exchanged between you, but no words are necessary. Her hand squeezes back, and then you’re turning, facing the growing light at the end of the horizon. You’re her Orpheus amidst the flowers, leading her forward step by step until the light devours you both. To life, or to death, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t quite care.

For like Eurydice, what else mattered besides the hand in her own, the proof that she was loved?

kujou sara

Sara once thought she knew pain. Cuts and bruises, arrowheads and sword slashes—none of these are new to her. Her body is a canvas of scars from her time as a warrior, some pale and faded, while others are pink and freshly healed. Pain is inevitable, in a profession such as hers. Sara once thought she knew pain, but nothing could have ever prepared her for the agony of seeing tears paint your soft cheeks as you lie in her arms, staining the burnt soil below you red with your blood.

It feels like someone has reached into her chest, fingers curling around her heart and squeezing tight. Everything else has faded to a dull sensation; the arrows lodged in her wings as she shields you both from the world; the gash in her side from an axe-wielding hilichurl; the throb in her skull from when an Abyss Herald had managed to get a lucky hit in. The war around you both is now an afterthought, even as the skies rage and the Abyss spills forth like a hellish tide. No, the only thing she can focus on is you, as your lips painted red part and whisper to her brokenly.

“Sara,” you choke out, “I love you.”

Sara leans down, pressing her forehead to yours. Her golden eyes meet yours, and she hopes you can see the sincerity within. “I love you too, dearest.”

Your breathing rattles ominously in your chest, and Sara holds you tighter. Closer. A small comfort as death approaches you both on silent feet, ready to collect. Your fingers grip the front of her uniform tightly, staining her white uniform red. “Promise me,” you rasp, and Sara exhales shakily.

“Anything.”

“Find me again,” you plead, your voice so small she would not have heard you, were it not for her tengu senses. “In the next life, promise you’ll find me again—“

She grips your hand tightly. “I promise. I promise, my love, so wait for me.”

She doesn’t even know what awaits either of you beyond this. Is there even such thing as a next life? Heaven? Hell? She doesn’t know, but she doesn’t care. If there is a next life, she will find you, over and over again until the end of time. If heaven doesn’t exist, she’ll build it with her own hands for you. It it does, she’ll meet you there. If hell exists, she’ll carry you out on her back herself. Sara would do anything for you—all you have to do is ask. She kisses you as your breathing slows, your final breath mingling with hers. As death’s shroud settles on her shoulders, she memorises every line on your face, the set of your jaw, the arch of your brows like they’re her north star, to shine forever in her sky and lead her home. Home, wherever you are.

(In another universe, a pair of crows roost on a powerline. In another, a black obi is tied around a beautiful kimono. In another, a museum’s display katana rests peacefully in its delicate sheathe.

In another, she stands hand in hand with you again, looking at them all.)

I was reading your dom!Ruan Mei x sub!reader with the song k. (Cigarettes after Sex) in the background and it got so sad I’m ngl😭

just searched up the lyrics and you could interpret this as reader's feelings after ruan mei ascends which WOW that'd be sad as fuck 😭😭😭 BUT for me personally the way i wrote reader or reader's 'lore' that i had in mind while i was writing if you will is that when ruan mei becomes an aeon, reader becomes her first emanator. so in a sense, even though ruan mei has become something beyond human, reader is still her favored, her beloved. and that’s kind of wondrous, i think. to be able to see your loved one in every little thing they represent.

ruan mei is not by your side anymore, but you can see her in the way the helix of DNA looks a little like embroidery, or hear her voice in every strum of the ruan. and if you must seek her counsel or if you simply miss her, there is a plum tree in your little lab-turned-home that you and ruan mei once sat under, eating fresh plums together. you sit upon the roots of that old, wizened tree and murmur your question or your wish to the leaves.

blossoms bloom in an instant, an answer woven in pretty, pink petals.

(it isn’t as if she would ever deny a wish from you.)

plum blossom soliloquy.

summary: ruan mei is the one person in the universe who can touch you.

notes: 3.6k words, author's notes, themes of codependency/worship, made-up science, loosely inspired by cardia from code realize

Ruan Mei collects pieces of you everyday. 

With insulated gloves pulled up to her elbows and safety goggles perched on her nose, she extracts samples of your blood, strands of your hair, and biometric readings from her scanner. This is your daily ritual, and Ruan Mei’s visits mark the beginning of your day. She never fails to come in like clockwork, more consistent than the sun itself.

You don’t ask what she does with the samples; her explanations never make much sense, and your education is woefully limited. But Ruan Mei always hums as she works, delicate strands of music like peach blossoms waving in a spring breeze, and you can never take your eyes off of her as she carefully clips strands of your hair, head bent over in concentration. Close enough that you can smell the plum pastries still clinging to her, warm and sugary and fragrant. She must have had some for breakfast.

“How are your findings?” you ask. 

“The high toxicity level of your body remains stable,” she murmurs. “And yet, you still don’t feel any discomfort?”

When she says this, Ruan Mei looks at you with calculations and dreams swirling in her eyes like a galaxy. You flush at her evaluating gaze, as if she can stare past your skin into the hollows of your soul, everything stripped bare in front of her. 

“No, not at all,” you say softly. “I feel normal.”

“You’re a marvelous specimen,” Ruan Mei responds. 

You bite back a smile at her words, pressing your teeth down on your bottom lip. There’s a miniature sun in your chest, burning and bright, at her praise.

“Will I see you at the same time tomorrow?” you ask her. 

Ruan Mei stands, briskly arranging all her samples. “Yes, of course. Your meals will be delivered as per the usual time.” 

“Ruan Mei,” you say quickly, “May I make a request?” It’s audacious of you to ask. You’ve never voiced your thoughts to her before. You don’t dare to disturb her, and try to stay out of her way as much as you can. What is so different about today? Nothing, nothing at all, but the sight of her back to you makes you feel lonely. So, you offer your words to her like a worshiper to a god, hopeful for any acknowledgement.

She frowns thoughtfully at you. “Yes?”

“May we have today’s meal together?” 

“Together? I fail to see the point of such an endeavor,” she says. “We run on different schedules.”

“I’m sorry if it’s presumptuous,” you murmur. You should have known better than to bother her. “You can forget it if it’s too much.” 

Ruan Mei tilts her head at you, squinting as if you’re some particularly strange calculation. Your skin tingles under her gaze, and you fight to keep your own eyes locked on hers.

“I suppose I can,” she says at last, “if that’s what you wish.” 

“Thank you,” you say.

She nods, once, before exiting out of the lab. You let out an exhale, before hugging yourself at the unexpected clemency she has granted you. 

The two of you do not talk much outside of the scheduled appointments in which she, like clockwork, shows up at eight in the mornings per standard time to collect samples of your body. Though she has given you free reign of her lab, outside of a few forbidden zones in which she conducts delicate research, you mainly squirrel yourself away in the little room she’s provided for you. It’s comforting to burrow in your corner of her lab; the idea of disturbing her experiments with your carelessness worries you endlessly. You’re not used to having space to wander, either, and keeping your world small and limited is easier for you.

Some might call her cruel, but that’s only because they do not understand the nature of her work, so grand and all-consuming that you’re honored to have a role to play in it at all. You would gladly offer up every last piece of yourself if only to feel Ruan Mei’s touch once. After all, what other use would a body like yours have? Your body, which is toxic to the touch. Prolonged exposure to your skin is lethal. Flowers wilt. Birds choke up. Everything beautiful dies when it comes into contact with you.

But Ruan Mei, as lovely as a plum blossom, is the only beautiful thing who hasn’t. 

—

Your story before Ruan Mei was painfully dull. There was nothing to say about that time, which was filled only with a monotony of endlessly repeating days, of set meals and lessons and an empty manor, with its carefully preserved artifacts.

You didn’t remember your parents. Perhaps you had killed them, or they had abandoned you. Maybe you didn’t have any parents at all, and had simply sprung into existence by an aeon’s will. You had never learned the truth about your heritage, no matter who you asked. Not that there was anyone to ask. In your frozen wasteland of a home, you had grown up with only a few android servants for companions, who oversaw your education and general health. Outside of that, you were alone. You could only learn about the world through the books you read. 

“What’s this?” you pointed a finger at a picture of a tree, pink flowers blooming voraciously across its every limb. You must have been seven or eight, and had never seen anything so colorful before. 

“That is a plum blossom tree,” your android teacher said, its motors whirring. “It is a tree that can be found across the Xianzhou Luofu, and is a popular subject of art. It blooms during the spring, and the fruit has a variety of uses in cooking and medicine.”

“Plum blossoms…” You trace the brushstrokes of the petals with your fingers, as if you could feel the soft silk if you just tried hard enough. You knew what trees were, but you had never seen one in person. Nothing green could survive in the icy landscapes of your particular planet. “Do you think I’ll be able to see it one day?”

“Negative. It is too dangerous for you to venture away from your home. It is possible your body could contaminate the tree and sicken it, as well.”

“Oh.” 

It was just the way things were. You were dangerous. You could not leave. You would most likely stay in your isolated mansion, surrounded by drifts of snow and ice, until you died. 

There were no visitors. All you understood about the world came from the books the androids offered you. There was no advanced technology in your household, as if someone had forbidden all your contact with the outside world. The most you were allowed was a scratchy record-player, out of which poured music you had no context for.

That was your life. At least it was until Ruan Mei arrived.

Ruan Mei had not bothered to knock on your door. Instead, she had picked the lock and strode in as if the mansion belonged to her, even as the androids fruitlessly tried to get her to leave. She brought in swirls of snow, trekking ice across the floor, sending your servants into a panic. She was calm, even as they pushed her with their mechanical arms.

The commotion and the noise had driven you out of your room, where you hovered on the second floor, watching this strange woman. Slowly, you crept closer, down the stairs, to the first floor, to the source of the disruption of your average life. 

When Ruan Mei saw you, she strode towards you. Entranced, all you could do was watch her. This was the first human you had encountered in your entire life. Was she a dream? Or a ghost? It wasn’t until she was close enough to raise a gloved hand to brush against your cheek that you flinched back, skittering from her touch. 

Still, enough of the glove brushed against the edge of your cheek so that the silk sizzled and blackened against your corrosive skin, revealing her pale fingers.

“Curious,” she said, flicking the glove aside. “It seems the rumors weren’t wrong. You are a strange specimen.” 

“You shouldn’t do that,” you rasped, still edging backwards. “You shouldn’t touch me. You could get hurt. It’s— it’s dangerous.”

She tilted her head. “I’m a scientist. It’s part of the nature of the profession to do dangerous things.”

What a strange woman. Were all humans like her? You couldn’t tell, but there was a strange shine in her eyes, an endless hunger when she stared at you. It made something in you catch alight, sending trails of fire through your veins.

She was the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, who disrupted everything you thought you knew and understood. Where had she come from? From your dreams of companionship, like a fairy tale sprung to life? Or from the fervent wishes of your heart, answered at last by a star or an aeon?

“Who… who are you?” you finally brought yourself to ask. You couldn’t look away. 

“You can call me Ruan Mei,” she said calmly. She extended her ungloved hand to you, palm up, fingers spread. Pale skin, traced through with blue rivers of veins and valleys of creases. Nothing like the smooth, unblemished synthetic hands which nurtured you for years. “And I am going to take you out of here.” 

It was dangerous. You were trapped here for a reason. You couldn’t leave. If there was one thing you had been taught, it was that it was your duty to stay in your manor.

But she was so beautiful. Even if you didn’t take her hand and tried to chase her away, she had stolen something from you that you could never get back. 

There was only one choice for you now.

—

You learned more about Ruan Mei’s mission in her aircraft, where you were bundled up in a blanket you brought from home so you wouldn’t burn through the seats. You didn’t bring much with you, outside of a few objects that she wanted to examine.

Ruan Mei wanted to understand life. No, she wanted to create a perfect lifeform. It was her self-imposed mission, and when she had heard rumors of you from a colleague, she had immediately flown to your glacial planet to find you. 

“A human who is not a human is the closest thing to an aeon,” she explained calmly. 

The idea that someone like you could even be close to divine felt wrong, but the way Ruan Mei said it made you wonder if it could be true.

You learned more about her in the following months. She was diligent and articulate. She loved desserts, and enjoyed embroidery. She was a member of the Genius Society, and took tea every morning before she began work. 

From the meetings you overheard her conduct, her coworkers called her cold, and disinterested. But they couldn’t have been more wrong. She was the one who had found a way for you to live in her home without melting everything you touched. 

Ruan Mei hypothesized that the entire manor you had once lived in had somehow been treated so you could touch things without your poisonous skin corroding it. The fact you didn’t melt your own body was proof there could be a way to counteract your own poison, and that she could find a way to prevent you from doing the same to the things around you. It took her only a few days to collect samples of your blood and to use the blanket you brought back from the manor to create a solution she used to treat the entire area in which the two of you lived. Now, you could touch things with your bare hands without fear.

“It’s for the sake of my research. I can’t do work if you melt every beaker I try to use to collect samples,” she said, but you were grateful regardless. 

You had never been useful before. It wasn’t a possibility you were aware was possible. 

“So you’re the lab rat she’s dragged in,” one of her colleagues had told you dismissively. Dr. Ratio, that was his name, perhaps. He had visited to share lab results with Ruan Mei, and you had run into him by accident, jumping a mile in the air at the sight of the stranger. 

You had burned with emotion then, and it was only now, after replaying that scene in your head again and again, that you could finally come up with the proper words to refute him. 

“So what if I am? She needs me.”

Using you? Even if that was true, what did it matter? Love, affection, care… Those sorts of emotions were quick to fade and notoriously unreliable. You wouldn’t be able to trust them. But her experiments on you, each and every day? Those were real. Those were proof that you were important to her, more important than anyone else could ever be.

Your body’s condition was finally good for something. It had brought Ruan Mei to you.

—

The appointed time of dinner draws closer, and you still haven’t figured out how to prepare for her arrival. 

What should you wear? No, should you tidy up the area? There were automated bots who cleaned each room and made the meals, as Ruan Mei found such things a bother to tend to when she was busy. Ah, maybe you should have asked if it was okay to make something for her, perhaps a cake that she liked– not that you could cook. You couldn’t serve her terrible food. And it wouldn’t nearly be enough to repay her for everything she’s done for you.

A soft, elegant knock echoes against your door. The time has passed faster than you expected. You leap up, heart pounding, as Ruan Mei steps into your room, a bot trailing behind her, carrying a tray.

“Hello,” she says. “I’ve brought you your meal.”

You pull out a chair for her, and she slips into it with a word. Her every moment is precise, elegant, with no wasted movement. Every minute of her day must be carefully planned and executed. She could have a mathematical equation for the entire universe, hidden in the palm of her hand.

The bot lumbers over to your side and sets a stainless steel plate down in front of you. To your surprise, it’s not the usual mush, packed with, as Ruan Mei says, enough nutrients to keep you healthy, even if not the most favorable meal. Instead, it is a real dish: fragrant stir-fried vegetables and braised meat, steamed fish and two bowls of rice, set with a pair of chopsticks perched across each bowl. It’s food from Xiangzhou Luofu.

“Well?” Ruan Mei says, already plucking a piece of fish into her bowl. “Eat.”

Emotions choke your throat as you tentatively reach for the chopsticks, and poke at some of the vegetables. The poison in your body makes it hard to taste the food before it dissolves in your mouth, but to your surprise, you can taste every ounce of flavor in these vegetables, succulent and lightly-seasoned.

It’s delicious. Ruan Mei must have done something to your meal; had she poison-proofed it somehow? But for what end? So you could enjoy the meal? But why? It seems the sort of sentimental behavior she doesn’t tolerate.

There’s nothing but the clinking of chopsticks against porcelain plates as the two of you eat. You’ve never been with her for such an extended period of time. What can you talk about? Her papers for the Genius Society? No, you wouldn’t understand a word of it. You could mention the books you’ve read lately, but you don’t know if she would care about romance novels.

“How is your research progressing?” you ask timidly. That’s a safe subject, at least.

“It’s progressing smoothly with your assistance,” she says. She flicks a glance at you, scrutinizing. “How are your accommodations?”

“Perfect! The pillows are soft, and the temperature is always mild, so I never felt too hot or cold. And you’ve given me plenty of books, so I never feel bored,” you say. “Thank you, Ruan Mei.”

“It’s only natural,” she says. “A lack of stimulation might lead to a degradation in your condition. I’m only trying to keep your environment stable for my own research.”

“That’s extremely thoughtful of you.”

“So that’s how you see it,” she murmurs. You sneak a peek at her, but she’s focused on eating. Better not to comment, then. Maybe that’s a sentiment you aren’t supposed to respond to.

Silence falls again. The rice is dwindling, and only sauce is left on the plates. What can you do to make her stay? To engage her interest? This is a rare opportunity, one that might not come about again. 

Sometimes, you think about faking illness, if only to keep her by your side for longer. Any change in your condition would concern her. But most likely, she would just send in a medical bot to check on you, and your ruse would be easily discovered. A childish ploy for attention would never work on someone as intelligent as her.

She’s standing now, neatly folding her chopsticks over her plate. Why did she accept your invitation, again? Maybe that’s not for you to question. You’re fine with your relationship. You’re fine, so you shouldn’t get too greedy, and to want more than you are allowed.

“Ruan Mei,” you say again.

“Yes?”

“Am I helpful to you?” you ask plaintively. 

She doesn’t answer right away. Ruan Mei looks at you, really looks at you, her gaze luminous and all encompassing, like a lighthouse in a storm. Her gaze flays you open, excavating every last inch of you for her appraisal. Without her attention, you would revert back to who you were before, a lost person trapped in a glacial manor, all alone.

She walks over to where you still stay sitting. She reaches out one gloved hand and places it alongside the length of your cheek. There’s an emotion struggling to break out through the calm waters of her eyes. You can see it, floating right beneath, under her tranquil exterior.

You can’t breathe. You wait for the sizzle of acid, of melting flesh. You wait for her to recoil. You wait for the words you’ve always heard, the knowledge you’ve always known: your body is a curse. It’s dangerous. You aren’t meant for human connection, much less someone else’s touch.

But none of that happens. Ruan Mei’s touch is gentle, ghosting against your skin. You can almost feel her warmth through her glove, and can almost imagine how soft her hand must be, how lovely it would be for her to touch you, to really touch you.

You still remember the sight of her hand, the first time you met her. Flesh and bone and blood and nerves, all the delicate components that come together in a miraculous fusion of life.

“You are helpful,” she says curtly, pulling away. “I need you.”

“Okay,” you say smiling. “I’m glad.”

Raw, naked need. It’s more reliable than Ruan Mei saying she likes you, or cares about you. Need is hard and visceral, like plum seeds packed in fertile ground. 

The bot clears away the food, and your table is as clean as if you’ve never had a meal there in your life. You sit in your chair with your hands folded in your lap like a doll.

Ruan Mei is by the door when she pauses. “By the way. I have something for you. It followed me home, and since I have no need for it, I believe you may find better purpose out of it than I could.” As she speaks, a strange, furry creature darts between her ankles and into your room, a flash of gray fur and wide eyes.

It’s only when it comes to a stop that you see it’s some sort of… cat? A cat that looks like a cake, with its tail curled close to its body as it looks up at you, its head peeking out of its cake-like body. 

Wide-eyed. Scared. Needing.

You hug your arms around yourself. “What if I–”

“It can survive your touch,” she interrupts. “I made sure of that.”

“Ruan Mei,” you say breathlessly, holding out your arms. You say her name like you would say the name of a god. The creature scampers into your hold, but she’s stepped out, and the door is sliding closed, and still you add, “thank you.”

There’s no response. You hold the creature to your chest, and it is so, so warm. It’s alive and trembling and soft. This is the touch of another living being. This is what being alive means: to feel the touch of others. To hold them. To know you are real.

“What’s your name?” you coo, stroking the creature’s fur. It feels like velvet.

“Don’t have one,” it replies. You almost drop it; you haven’t expected it to actually reply. But Ruan Mei is a genius; of course her experiment has some measure of intelligence. 

“I’ll give you a name,” you say. “What about Plum?”

“Plum? It sounds nice,” the creature says, nuzzling into your grasp, finally relaxing in your grip.

“It’s because…” You remember that book about plum trees you read as a child. You remember the smell of Ruan Mei’s favorite plum cakes, clinging to her skin. You remember Ruan Mei, pulling you out of your dull existence. “It’s because plum blossoms are the most beautiful flowers in the universe.”

You hug Plum closer to you. Whether Ruan Mei is an angel who saves you, or a devil who pulls you into hell, or a cruel god who will destroy you, it doesn’t make any difference. As long as she is the one reaching out her hand to you, you will take it, no matter where she leads you.

ᴀ ᴊᴏᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ?

Daenerys Targaryen x Knight!reader

Words : 3.7k+

Summary : You dread the day she finds someone else, but is that something worth worrying about? At all?

Warning (s) : suggestive themes?? Daario being annoying.

[requested by anons]

∵※∵

“Your grace.”

“My Queen.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes as Daario Naharis bowed dramatically beside you, keeping your demeanor impassive as you stood straight, catching the eyes of no other than the Queen. There was a glint in her violet orbs, a subtle pull at the edge of her lips when she noticed your distaste for the man currently chasing after her affection.

You tried to pay him no mind, drawing her attention onto you fully as you went after battle strategies on ways to take over Yunkai while the aggravating man kept on making severely inappropriate hints to Daenerys, who’d only sent him an amused smile each time he winked her way. She was enjoying the newfound attention from the man that gave her a whole army of the Second Sons, and you couldn’t help but find him irritating for the sole reason of his cockiness.

It was no surprise that he knew the ways into the city, like he’d sneaked in so many times – you refused to let them take it down without you, much to Daenerys’ protests. Better to keep your eyes on him, even if that meant leaving her behind; Barristan would do well in keeping her safe. After all, the old man seemed to be doing fine despite your relentless challenges upon his abilities.

“One sight of trouble, come back to me.” Her hushed words were directed to you only, far away from curious ears and nosy presence of the group who’d taken post outside the tent before leaving. There was desperation in her pleading gaze and you couldn’t help but crack a smile, one that you shot down as soon as you realized the speck of blush on her cheeks, lips turned upward and mirroring yours. Such a smile that pulled at the edge of her eyes and your heartstrings at the same time, one that sent your world crumbling down as you remembered you weren’t the only one receiving it.

“You’re doubting me, Your Grace?” Even with your fake offense, her grin didn’t subside, knowing your tendency of teasing her with a straight face – most people always found it odd, not registering your attempt at cracking jokes in the middle of training or discussion. Daenerys decided it would be unacceptable to have one meeting without your terrible jokes.

She shook her head as she brushed off the imaginary dust on your shoulder, “I doubt your self-control,” You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence at her innuendo. “Don’t kill him.” It was more a command than a request, but Daenerys knew she couldn’t stop you if you were to decide otherwise – it would be a great loss, though not one she couldn’t overcome.

“Why would I indulge myself in your fury, Khaleesi?” Daenerys hated the way your few words always seemed to draw such pathetic reactions from her, yet she loved it anyway, for the flutters in her chest when you called her by that title was one that made her crave for something better, a higher place only she could reach with you by her side – it made her crave you.

None of those would ever be of knowledge to anyone else, however. Not when you rode off into the dark, raiding a city with a reckless plan she was sure would end up in destruction. Not when her heart anxiously beat faster as the hours ticked by, silence ringing throughout the starry night she otherwise would’ve enjoyed.

But certainly when she’d became so worried that a single console from Missandei caused her tongue to slip and her mouth to spill out her pent up thoughts.

Daenerys couldn’t recall most of the words tumbling out of her throat, only that a laugh emitted from the translator so carefree and amused, both of them paused with wide eyes assessing each other in alarm – Missandei in fear of offending her Queen, and Daenerys in distress over giving away her feelings for her Knight.

Making her swear to never tell anyone could be considered exaggerating; for one, Missandei would never even thought of betraying her trust in handling the precious information, bless her soul, and two, it wasn’t as if no one had a clue of her.. attachment to the stoic fighter.

Except for Daenerys herself, of course.

↭↯↭

It was well in the night after pacing a hole on the ground that Daenerys heard a commotion outside, signaling the horses arriving and with them, hopefully, her intact group of fighters. That is, if you hadn’t left Daario to die in the battlefield. Jorah was the first to enter her peripheral, his appearance a slight relief to her heart; hair disheveled and dust collecting on his armour, but at least he wasn’t visibly straining against death.

“Where’s Daario Naharis?” Daenerys could see Missandei grimacing at the question coming out of her mouth, the obvious person missing from her sight should’ve been her top priority. They couldn’t blame her for worrying for the lesser of the fighter, now, could they?

She was an idiot. The mother of dragons, the Khaleesi of the great grass sea, was an idiot. Because when Daario strutted in, presenting her with the flag of Yunkai he stole from the towers, she could see no sign of you, and her heart fell to her stomach, panic written in her eyes that it probably gave away more than she’d preferred.

It took all but a glance at her translator before she bolted outside, frantically scouting the crowd for- There. The tent across from hers – she spared no time to think over her actions, her feet carrying her to the opened gap and sliding in without much consideration.

“Why-” Her confrontation was stuck in her throat by the sight she was greeted with; your back, bruises forming all around the smooth skin, an actively bleeding wound just below your shoulder blades. When your eyes caught hers, she could swear she saw your life flash before your eyes in panic, hastily throwing a cloth over your back to cover it. “Shit, Daenerys. What are you doing here?” Oh, you didn’t use her title. The thought made her head spin; it sounded even better than when you made the conscious decision to do otherwise – formality be damned. The Targaryen would do anything to hear you say the word again, if only the circumstances were on her side.

You moved towards the pile of clothes stacked on the makeshift bed, but Daenerys grabbed your hands before you could attempt to shrug on a layer of fresh clothing on top of the open wounds. An idiot, that’s what you were. Your movements were calculated, voice too low and breathing too calm for someone who was gravely injured – even the Queen had trouble keeping herself in check in order not to trip over something or worse, dabbed at the gash too harshly. You shifted uncomfortably with your back facing her, the idea of Daenerys, standing there and cleaning your wound was too much to comprehend. It felt too close, too intimate for it to simply be a form of sympathy a Royal could hold for her royal guard.

“It was an easy raid,” Daenerys felt her hands sweat and shake as each dip of the cloth darkened the water just a bit more, her inadequate skills doing the best at washing off the blood, leaving the red, raw skin exposed to the air. “Most of the masters fled once they caught wind of us, giving the city away to save themselves.” Feeling the lack of motion, you turned your head and found her fingers hovering over your shoulder.

Deciding it was clean enough, you rose from your sitting position and faced her, ushering her towards the exit while simultaneously wrapping a dressing over the injury. “It’s just a cut.” Daenerys frowned, slightly struggling against the rigid and hard muscles of your arms, wishing to have a reason to stay – there wasn’t. And she cursed the world for it.

“It doesn’t seem like just a cut.” You only hummed, crossing your arms and stared at her the way it always made Daenerys melt and her heart to thrum aggressively in her chest. The smile she earned was enough for her cheeks to bloom with colour, and the Khaleesi found it hard to avert her gaze away from your lips.

“I’ll recover, Your Grace.” Now that she’d had a taste of her name on your tongue, she never wanted to hear it reciting her titles ever again. “And if I fail, there will be another to replace me.” Shrugging, you spoke of death so easily that it brought unease in her heart, your view of your place in her court far too wrong, too easily discarded. Daenerys opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off when Daario interrupted the sure to be awkward parting had he not came.

“Best to get some rest, Khaleesi.” You nodded, sending a sharp look to the man over her shoulder that had Daenerys glancing at the interaction with more interest than at the statements of the raid ready in his mind – though you knew it wasn’t the only thing residing there. She allowed him to escort her back, albeit begrudgingly, her eyes tracing over your frame as she reflected on your well-being.

↭

She knew it wasn’t ‘just a cut’.

The next morning, she’d sent some bottles of medicines into your tent with a roll of paper that commanded you to take them or else you’d be stripped from your armour.

You chuckled, shaking your head at the little threat she slipped in. That woman has a knack for the dramatics.

↭↯↭

Mereen was a place you could survive never stepping your foot into. It was a sight to watch the city surrender as fast as it did, to watch people, humans, with chains around their necks like animals – Daenerys hadn’t felt a kind of sick so tremendous than that moment, and she’d had a fair share of horrendous. It felt brief, passed in a blink of an eye and before you knew it, you were inside the city, new orders and a new Queen ruling at the top of the tower, though your duties had increased with the amount of protests and riots some of the masters started.

The new settings didn’t stop Daario to win over her majesty, however – if anything, he’d seen it as an opportunity, now that they were settling down in one place for a while. And to say you were doing fine would be an understatement. What they saw with their bare eyes was nothing compatible to the fury blossoming in your chest each time the man so much as touch her hands. You tried to tell yourself that it was merely your job; to be protective of your Queen, and it had nothing to do with the growing, uncontrollable endearment in your heart.

Memories of those fleeting moments of closeness flashed in your mind and you cursed yourself, shaking your head in silence to rid of the images. It doesn’t mean anything – nothing means anything, for her attention was only just, one that would be replaced onto a handsome (in her opinion, anyway), better warrior than you. You dreaded the day it’d come, so letting yourself bask in the flutters of butterflies in your stomach and the skips of your heart for however long she’d let you wasn’t wrong, was it?

Losing yourself in a spar was easy; but getting lost in the pools of violet was easier, like sinking into a serene pool of water, which was why you’d tripped over yourself when you caught her eyes from across the pitch, her dress flowing behind her as she strolled lightly toward the training soldiers.

It was a graceful fall, as Daenerys had put it in her mind, her gaze trailing your form as you righted yourself before the sight was blocked by none other than a proud Daario. If anyone was being honest, the silver-haired woman was getting tired of his endless flirting and interruption on her precious moments – though she didn’t have the heart to tell him just that.

“My Queen! Gracing us with your lovely presence?” You gripped the wooden spear in your hand tightly, dragging your foot through the sand to join your gaze with hers – lost again, it was becoming a habit now, like visiting a secret safe place only you knew of. Hitting the back of his knees, you rolled your eyes and Daenerys caught a quirk of your lips as she chuckled at your act of indifference, ignoring Daario doubling over and scoffing at you.

“You’re welcome to watch me kick ass.” His arrogant smirk was one you wished to wipe off, and you’d do just that – he didn’t know it yet, though.

It was well past noon, the sun floating close to the ground, only half of it visible to the eye and the humid air was soon to be swapped by a soft breeze of the nightfall. Most royals would be expecting their baths drawn in their rooms, preparing for dinner and a warm bed by the end of the night – not Daenerys, no. She was raised in exile, by people who had no more than enough money for food, let alone servants. She was a widow of a Khal, and though she did have.. friends, it wasn’t a custom she allowed herself to get used to. The Queen preferred to walk the field, a moment of peace in between meetings and calls from the people, an intake of fresh air after escaping those bland, dirty walls that carried a stench she couldn’t rid of.

Personally, Daenerys had never fancied watching fights; weapons dangerous enough to kill, violence, bloody matches – if she could choose, she’d never put herself in any situation that required combat.

But with you there, she might’ve made an exception. This day, while the city retired for the night, the Queen was outside, anticipating the battle her knights put on just for her; to win her affection, bragging rights, what was it? Daenerys couldn’t remember the reason behind it, yet they were doing it anyway. She might as well enjoy it.

“Does your bed get cold at night, Your Grace?”

And there he went, off to whatever world he’d made up where seamlessly hitting on his Queen was acceptable while engaged in a combat with her most skilled fighter. Daenerys shook her head, eyes focused on the wooden sticks you were using as weapons, your swift parries and calculated attacks sending blows against him.

“The dragons kept it warm enough. I could lend you Rhaegal if you’re interested?” Your foot caught his ankle and the man stumbled, giving you enough time to stab his chest. Raising your eyebrows, you began to wonder if Daenerys was genuinely honest in her offer.

“I could think of other options to keep my bed warm.” You’d carve his smirk off his face if you could. The best concern for the time being was only to win, though, and it wasn’t as hard when he was distracted – as you were, but worse. Everyone, and you meant every single soul held some form of knowledge on his intentions with the Queen of Mereen, herself included.

“If you’d volunteer to be my children’s next meal, sure.” Daario took her lack of refusal as a win, a cocky grin appearing on his face even when he was obviously straining and losing in the battle.

“I’d have a feast before going, then. W-” His words were cut off from his tongue, the sudden attack too aggressive and rough that he stumbled a few steps back before being brought to his knees, air no longer supplying his lungs.

The audience, whatever was left to gather around to witness a boring match, stood rigidly in silence, surprise written in most faces at the turn of events. They’d never seen you, the person they looked up to, one of the best combatant they’d ever met, the stoic, calm and one that radiated control, lose it over a comment your comrade made. You were always a calculated leader, in battles or not. The air in which you carried yourself in was worshipped by a lot, your elegant yet deadly way of cutting through enemies had oftentimes became a topic of admiration.

It was so silent that your hushed whisper on his ears could be heard resonating throughout the field.

“Be careful. You might lose your head faster than you can blink.”

Girls would’ve swooned at the show of dominance you were putting on, and Daenerys would be lying if she claimed to be unaffected by the action. Daario had a look that showcased how terrified he was to be at the receiving end of your gaze; one that looked ready to demolish him. He wasn’t about to test the theory as he gasped for air the moment your grip was removed, opening his mouth to make another joke to ease the tension.

You held up your hand, “I don’t want to hear it.” Taking a deep breath, you spared Daenerys only a glance, your head bowed down in shame as you all but bolted away from the field.

↭↯↭

Perhaps you shouldn’t have heeded her request of seeing you this late into the night, words on how to express your regret already circling in your mind as you crossed the halls to her chambers.

Daenerys was standing by the windows, her nightgown flowing with the breeze and her hair cascading down her back in curly waves. Your footsteps signaled your arrival, her head turning to catch a glimpse of your silhouette but she did nothing else to regard your presence.

Clearing your throat, you started with the rehearsed words on your tongue.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I-”

“Call me Daenerys.” You gulped, mouth opening and closing repeatedly, apologies now stuck in your throat. Your foot was locked in place, settling a few paces behind her.

“That would be highly inappropriate-”

“You attacked Daario.” She remained facing the starless sky, her arms crossed as she enjoyed how worked up you were getting. A part of her almost felt remorse in relishing in the sight. Almost. You trudged toward her, foot stomping against the stone floor in your rare display of ire.

“And I already apologized for it.” At last, her head turned to meet your narrowed eyes, an amused smile on her lips as she bit down to it, giggles already sounding from the back of her throat and threatening to break through. Your gaze softened and you sagged in realization, pursing your lips while Daenerys tried to control her breathing, her shoulders shaking with the amount of mirth she was holding.

“You’re infuriating, Your Grace.” She burst out laughing at that, the view of your chest puffed up in rage and your eyes rolling at her obvious play with you was a sight to behold. Her cheeks were a shade of pink from all the hoots of laughter, hands clutching her stomach.

Daenerys clicked her tongue and shook her head, “That’s no way to talk to your Queen.” She was heaving for breath, now leaning her hips on the windowsill for support when you decided enough was enough.

You took a bold step toward her, the space between you thinning along with the sound of her giggles as they dropped into small puffs of breath. “Didn’t you tell me to call you Daenerys?” Perhaps a part of your brain was thinking irrationally, still riding from the high of your fury hours before. Otherwise, you didn’t know where the sudden push of insanity that barricaded into you had came from. You stopped a few inches from her, your tunic brushing against her gown, the proximity was almost enough to drive Daenerys into losing her mind.

She felt your fingers ghost her cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and in a fleet of selfishness, she let herself lean into your touch. “I wonder who else was given the privilege.” By who else, you meant Daario, and Daenerys was quick to catch onto it. No one, she wished to say, No one but you, yet she was silent, tongue darting to wet her lips as her eyes traced yours.

Your hand threaded through her silver locks and it was only another second before she balled her fist on your coat and yanked you forward, her lips finally catching yours in a searing kiss. Her heart thrummed against her ribcage, blood rushing to her brain and a savoring warmth bloomed in her chest. Your lips were cold against hers, and as she pecked them again, swiped her tongue over it, basking in the taste of you, she felt her warmth melding in and smearing off the icy flavour. Daenerys could drown in the feeling forever, if only she was allowed to.

“That was thoroughly not appropriate.” You pulled away just as she leaned in, chest heaving with every intake of air you took. Daenerys gave you a deadpanned look, her well-kissed lips pressed in a thin line and hand gripping your arm so tight it might leave a mark. Her hair had become so messy from your work, and it felt only fair that your clothes was all crumpled from her grasps and tugs at it.

“Not at all.”

It wasn’t the answer you were expecting, nor was it one that made any sense, given both your positions and state. But she pulled you in again, kisses chaste and eyes closed, her arms circling around to press every inch of your skin against hers.

Nothing was making sense, not when all of your senses were overloaded to the brim, violet eyes and silver hair filling your vision – you stopped asking questions when you part again, and it was now her turn as she chased after the feeling that effortlessly made her drunk on the first sip.

A mess. Both of you. Her grip was relentless as you stepped away, refusing to budge even as you pulled them off yourself.

“Rest up, Your Grace. I believe you have an important meeting tomorrow.” She couldn’t recall if that was the truth, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything at all.

Now you’re the one being infuriating. Daenerys gaped at your retreating back, her knees buckling as her door clicked close before you burst through it once again. You strode to her hastily, lips meeting hers once, twice, before they latched onto her cheek and you were out in a blink, your victorious smile the last thing she caught.

The Queen exhaled, chest tight and vision swimming as she fell not-so-gracefully onto her bed. Oh, she’s so fucked.

Hi, can you please write a Yan!Daenerys prompt 27?

[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

❝tw: mention of death, mildly angst (?) and obsessive behavior.

The smell of ash and blood filled King's Landing almost like a plague. The screams of those burned by Drogon, once so excruciating, became just uncomfortable memories in Daenerys' mind.

For that was all they would eventually become. It wasn't right but Daenerys didn't care. She no longer cared about becoming what she became. As long as she had you in her life, the entire world could be consumed by dragon fire.

You were all that mattered to her.

Daenerys watched the devastation around her, her eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins of the city that once represented the heart of the Realm. Her expression was a mix of cold determination and a rare tenderness reserved only for you.

She did it for you. All for you.

"I did this for us. For you." Daenerys whispered in awe, more to herself than anyone else. Your presence beside her was an anchor amidst the chaos, a shining light in the darkness she had created.

You looked at her as if you no longer recognized her and, in a way, that was true. This was no longer the Daenerys you knew and once loved. This was a shell of what she once was.

A woman dominated by grief and the fear of losing someone else she loved. And only the gods knew what Daenerys would do to the world if something happened to you.

"Some things need to be destroyed so that others can flourish." She continued, turning to look at you. "They would never understand. They would never accept the world I want to build."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze. There was a deep pain there, a loneliness that only you seemed able to alleviate. Even with all the power and destruction she commanded, Daenerys was, deep down, a woman looking for love and acceptance. And she wanted that from you, just you.

Her gaze, although filled with burning passion, had a coldness that hadn't existed before. The glow in her eyes was now more intense, but also emptier, as if an essential part of her humanity had been consumed by the fire of her own despair.

And it hurt. The sight of a person you loved, maybe still love, being destroyed like this was too much to bear.

"You didn't have to do that." You tried to say, trying to reach the real Daenerys that remained somewhere inside her. "You didn't need to destroy King's Landing, you didn't need to burn all those people and destroy their home. There was another way, there always is."

But your words seemed to be lost in the freezing winter wind, swallowed by the distant sound of echoes from a city in ruins. She lifted her head and the strength in her voice left no room for doubt. "I can't go back anymore." She declared. "What's done is done. And now, you're all I have."

There was a palpable fear in her words, a fear of what might happen if you walked away, a fear that made her cry out for your presence, not just as a partner, but as her anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Not that she would let you get away, but she wouldn't want to hold you prisoner.

Daenerys looked at you with an intensity that mixed love and despair, her voice a painful whisper filled with truth. "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

Her words seemed to hang heavy in the air like a sentence of condemnation and devotion at the same time. She was not just revealing herself, but giving herself completely, displaying her scars and shadows as if they were a sign of absolute love.

What was left of Daenerys, the woman you loved and feared, was desperate to hold on to what she still could hold, even if it meant sacrificing the world around her. And when you looked into her violet eyes, you knew there was no going back.

She was your monster. Your queen. And she loved you so hard that she would be willing to burn the world to the ground, even if that wasn't your desire. It didn't matter in the end, though. Daenerys would always hold on to you.

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・There was no fear in you when you were around Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion.

・The first dragons in hundreds of years and you saw them as puppies. Okay well, truly you saw them as beings to be respected and revered

・But you treat animals with that same respect anyway - usually preferring them over human company...

・You understood that each dragon had a different personality. It defined how you treated them

・Drogon was the most independent; he hated being coddled too much. He just likes to play and explore

・Rhaegal always wanted to keep up with Drogon, but he wasn't fast enough. And he liked being close to Dany.

・Viserion though - he adored being held; soft touches and gentle pets were his favourite. It took a long time for him to realise he was too big to sit in your lap :(

・Dany loved that someone else saw her children the way she did. With dignity and astonishment

・Other people were incredibly shocked to find you laying in the grass with three dragons. All lazily flopped on top of you somehow. Either with their head, wing or foot

・You actually know secrets about the dragons - how Drogon has ticklish feet. Rhaegal likes to be called 'a good strong dragon,' and Viserion sometimes whines for his mother.

・Your relationship with Dany definitely helps as well. You adore her, and she you. You do love her ... as more than friends, more than her being your ruler...

・But you could never admit that

・Too bad though, she herself is deeply in love with you. And it shows - you're allowed alone with her children. Allowed to look after them when she isn't there to

・Like ... another mother to them

・And gods forbid if anything happened to you - the dragons would kill anyone who comes into mere feet of you.

・There's always one of them nearby.