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reverieblondie · 4 months

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Seeking Advice

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling?.

Summary: Asking out your crush can be difficult, Maybe you should seek advice from your friends on how to ask out your favorite wizard?

A/N: Look...I've been playing a lot of Baldur's Gate 3. Then this guy yelled at me and I fell. I have a thing for grumpy guys what can I say. Now do not worry! I still am writing for ATSV, TASM!Peter and my love Miguel, just I think I can squeeze the bg3 fandom on my blog. Trust I have plans for for all my fictional men. Plus I am working on request! Just had to get this story out, it was rotting my brain. Hope you enjoy it! Its kinda cheesy but its what I like, sorry.

Word Count: 6,957

The energy to the tavern is a welcomed one, All the noise you might have found irritating at a time is now a pleasant chime to your ears. How things can so easily change with time. Since becoming the city's hero many things have changed for you and your friends. The city is back to its wondrous glory. Finally, your life is starting to calm down, well for the most part…

There is no longer a squirming in your head and the threats to the world's damnation are at the time eased, things should be perfect, and you should be happy riding an inexplicable high. You are happy for the most part, however there is just one thing that is causing you trouble now. It's the ache that swirls within you that only grows when you see him, the now master of Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan.

The first time you felt it, it was simply a spark, harmless. It didn’t turn into this thrumming storm until the grove celebration after you defeated the goblin camp, and where he taught you his light spell. That night your fate was sealed, now as your friendship has grown you feel those glittering sparks storming through you more often.

With a sigh, you rest your hazy head in your palm as you watch him with his siblings. The amber lights of Elfsong make his crimson skin appear as if it's glowing, he looks good in any lighting with his striking features but at this moment he looks damn near ethereal. You're acutely aware that you are staring at the trio, but in your buzzed haze from four wine goblets, you can not bring yourself to care. People are properly catching you staring like a lovesick fool; you will move your eyes eventually, you just want to watch for a bit longer.

Rolan's journey to the city was different than yours but it was not without its hurdles, then when he got here he had to be met with the cruelty of Lorroakan. You won’t lie, you felt immense pleasure watching his spine get cracked in two for what he had done. Now with that horror over, the scars have faded and you see that Rolan is better, happier. He smiles just a bit wider and his eyes shine just a tad bit brighter. It only makes sense that the Tower and Sundries have become more successful with his influence, though you know he’s just happy that his family is now together and safe.

Blindly you bring the metal goblet to your lips and taste the tang of the red wine nursing you through your pinning. The drink was meant to boost your confidence to go over there and shoot your shot for a date, but it only makes your head cloud into hopeless romantics. Why can’t you just ask him out? You can take on a horde of knols but you can’t bring yourself to confess to the guy you like? Doesn't get more pathetic than that…

Your eyes stay fixed on Rolan as he smirks and rolls his eyes at what Cal is saying, his clawed hand grabs his goblet and you watch as he brings the drink to his lips. Feeling looser from drinking you see as the red wine slightly escapes the side of his lips as he chugs the drink down. The deep red rolls down his jaw and you have to bite your lip from the thoughts that erupt in your mind.

“Darling, you have got to stop staring.”

With a sigh, you turn your head to your pale companion with a devilish smile on his face. With a roll to your eyes, you take another drink of your wine trying your best to play unbothered by Astarion as you can.

“I wasn’t staring”

“Tav, let's not be coy, you haven’t moved your eyes from a particular wizard since he strolled in. Sighing and squeezing your thighs together like that's going to help your ache.”

The mentioning of the actions you thought were unnoticed makes your face blush from embarrassment. Asterion can only laugh at your fluster features as you look around the crowded tavern to see hints if others have noticed.

“I- wasn’t, you don’t-”

“Don’t be embarrassed, you could pick far worse. He’s a bit pompous for my taste, but the innocent little freckles on his face are pretty intriguing.”

Astarion gives you a smirk as you whip your head to face him giving him a look of ‘back off’, though he is hardly intimated by you.

“Relax, I am not going to take a bite out of your favorite wizard. I will leave that pleasure for you, however some advice, you won’t get him from just staring.”

You hate to admit it but Astarion might have a point, you have been wanting to confess your feelings you just don’t know how. Looking at Rolan you rake your mind with your past chances to open yourself up but always seem to back out at the last moment, his rejecting you would be painful but being in this limbo is excruciating. You have to get your feelings off your chest for some inner peace.

“Okay, Astarion…what's your advice?”

Astarion's smile spreads to his lips and he sits next to you quickly, “My suggestion is you make it your mission to get that Rolan in your sheets, my dear. You obviously have had trouble getting your…” Astarion grimaces “Feelings for him out, so why not go the seductive approach?”

You let out a laugh but Astarion just keeps his face neutral, “You think, I should seduce him? How am I supposed to do that?”

“Simple, give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Yeah like what?”

Astarion looks over at Rolan, seeming to think before his face lights up, he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder moving your chin to face Rolan. Then he whispers in your ear, “You're going to go over to him, very calmly…place your hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear very sweetly that you want to lick every ridge on his body.”

Your mouth goes dry and eyes go wide at the thought…running your tongue…down…his… You blush feeling your face grow hot, so hot you think it could be radiating off you.

“A-Astarion…I-I can’t do that…”

“Oh, but picture it, once you're done he will be so spent he will be the one confessing to you.”

An image of a panting Rolan looking down at you with a fist full of your hair sparks in your mind. Hells, maybe Astarion has a point…he has had plenty of experience seducing people, but you? The thought only makes it so you can’t even move. Astartion picks up on your dazed state and with a nudge he pops you from it.

“Lucky for you there's a creature in here I have had my eyes on, so just watch and learn,”

“Wait, you like someone?” You say it a bit shocked,

Astarion gives you a look, “Focus on your own love life, huh?”

With that, you say quite as you watch Astarion's ruby eyes land on a particularly pretty patron. With a smirk, he grabs your goblet keeping his eyes fixed on them like a predator studying its prey. Quickly downing your drink he releases a cool and steady breath then makes his approach. He practically glides across the room to them, very carefully he starts the conversation with a smile and you can already tell the person is interested. Do they know each other?

In What seems like a quick second he is placing his hand on their shoulder and leaning down to their ear. You can only imagine what he must be saying to have their faces fluster so quickly. Nobody quite had a way with words like him. Astarion leans back up to meet their eyes where they are feverishly nodding.

With that, he starts guiding them to the exit while turning back towards you to smirk. Well, looks like it's your turn…

Picking up your goblet you see he did finish it, okay next step. Standing you feel all the alcohol you consumed immediately go to your head, deep breath, then go. Making your way over you try to not stumble into people as you push to your destination. Keeping your eyes on Rolan you rehearse the lines in your head over and over, as you get closer.

Rolan almost like he can sense it then flicks his eyes to you, watching as you approach. Swallowing to ease your dry throat as you continue to make your way over still keeping your nerves despite your stomach being in knots. Then his lips curl into a slight smile and you freeze…shit…looking down at your hands reality hits you suddenly, you're drunk and about to proposition him, you can’t do this…he is just going to dismiss you… the thought makes your chest ache and the feeling of your drink coming back up.

Looking back at him he tilts his head looking at you concerned smile fading and that's when the fear of rejection rushes you. Opening your mouth you go to say anything, maybe smile at him something to mask your panic but it fails. Your lips tremble and before you know it you're rushing to the exit.

Finding the exit you look back to Rolan, he’s up from his table and seems to be trying to make his way toward you, he looks completely confused and maybe…hurt. You can’t do this…not when you're drunk and on the verge of puking.

With that, you're pushing out of the tavern and running off into the cool night of the city. As you're running past one of the city's allies you catch in your peripherals Astarion with that person pinned against the wall as he kisses against their neck leaving them moaning into his hand. You must have caught his attention from your running, he looks at your fleeing figure and calls out to you.

“I guess it didn’t go well?”

You don’t bother to give him a response, his advice might have worked for him but you're going to have to try a different tactic.

Note to self, do not try to drunkenly ask out your crushes, it only ends in you making an ass out of yourself and puking up all your stomach contents. Thinking back on it you can only think back on the look on Rolan's face…the confusion…the disappointment…Maybe you should go talk to him? You don’t want him to think that you're trying to ignore him. You were drunk and didn’t want to spill your guts all over him. Feeling freshly invigorated you decide that you should apologize for running off. Who knows maybe the conversion could lead to something.

Arriving at Sorcerous Sundries you're not even fully sure if he would even be there, the tower might have been the better bet. However, your guess is shown to be a good one when you see Rolan placing some tomes on the shelves. Gods, you could watch him work for hours…his dexterous hands placing everything so carefully. As you watch you think you almost see his tail wag before he’s fixing it down. The smile it causes to your face can’t be helped, though he is always so composed he still slips at times.

As you watch Rolan work you have the oddest sensation come over you that you too are being watched. Turning your head you jerk back slightly in surprise seeing that Lae’zel’s yellow eyes are piercing into you with her trademark intensity. It’s quite odd that she is in here, she's not one for spells but as you're looking past her you see that Shadowheart is with her thumbing through a tome. That makes more sense, you're happy those two have become better friends. Especially since they did try and kill each other.

Smiling you give Lae’zel a smile with a wave, she only narrows her eyes more at you as you move to go talk to Rolan. Approaching his tall figure you're taking in every inch of him.

He's beautiful, from face to physique, you watch as the muscles from underneath his robes flex from his movements. It’s funny wizards are not known for their strong builds but Rolan's arms and back are a dead giveaway to his hidden strength. Looking up you trace down the length of his horns to where they disappear into his soft chestnut hair, twisted in that half-up style. You wonder if you two get closer in the way you hope he will let you play with his hair, it appears so tantalizing and soft…everything about him is tantalizing…

In your approach your mind is running through a quick daydream of running your fingers along his horns and through his hair; it causes you not to pay attention to where you are stepping. With the perfect explanation for the night at Elfsong in your mind, you're ready to smooth things over with him. Just as you're reaching out you suddenly see Rolan's shoulders shoot up teasing like something just hit him. Confused you lean forward more but that's when you feel it, something is wiggling under your foot.

Looking down you see that your boot is crushing his poor tail underneath your weight. Mortified, you quickly step off of it. Karlach had told you how sensitive her tail was when she yelped when someone sat on it, so having it crushed underneath a boot sure is not a great feeling. Rolan's back stays teased as he turns slowly, his tail swiftly moving away from you to go to his hands. His eyes look as if he could thunder wave you out of the building.

“I-I am so sorry Rolan, I- I didn’t see your tail.” you ramble out as quickly as possible

“How do you not see the appendage handed down from my-!” Rolan stops his yelling and takes a breath, his hands tightening on his tail. There is now a mark from where you stepped and you feel even worse.

“Here let me-” Reaching out for his tail you are quickly stopped by Rolan holding up his hand and shaking his head. Rolan tail in hands starts walking away mumbling a language you don’t know.

“I’m sorry!” You call out to his fleeing figure as he ascends the stairs.

Running your hands down your face, your intentions of apologizing to him for Elfsong completely disappear as you make yourself look like a complete ass again to him. Looking through your fingers you see that not only is Lae’zel still staring at you but now Shadowheart has joined her in watching your screw-up. You make your way over to them with your head down silently standing with them as Shadowheart keeps at her browsing.

After a couple of moments, you see Rolan coming back down to the shop, his eyes meet yours. A part of you thinks you should go back over to him and apologize but you don’t want to annoy him further so you give him an apologetic wave. Rolan just huffs slightly with a nod before turning his back to you to get back to work. Leaning against the shelved wall you let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do…”

“You mean about your crush on the new master of the tower?”

You turn your head to stare at Shadowheart for her comment but she doesn’t even bother lifting her eyes away from the spines of the tomes.

“How…what…”

Lae’zel cuts in “Your lusting is obvious, sighing with your head in the sky with your pathetic pinning,” -wow ouch…

A stray giggle leaves Shadowheart and you're quick to narrow your eyes at her as she bites her lip to silence herself. Crossing your arms you look back at Lae’zel

“I am probably going to regret this, but Lae’zel what is your advice? How should I go about asking Rolan out then?”

The question is intriguing enough to make Shadowheart put her tome down and look at Lae’zel as well. Lae’zel rolls her eyes for a second before folding her arms and moving her fierce gaze to where Rolan is now helping out a customer. Lae’zel eyes narrow at him, sizing him up as she studies him before she turns back to you with a huff.

“I would not ask, I would grab that teeth-ling by the horns and command him to do as I say.” The direct advice makes Shadowheart burst into laughter drawing attention from people near you, though you can’t seem to meet their eyes because you're too busy giving Lae’zel a confused look.

“I don’t think that would work with him…”

“Tis’k, you do not know this unless you try. Now go grab him by the tail and mount him forming a flesh bond with your desired.”

You're staring at Lae’zel gobsmacked while Shadowheart practically rolls on the floor with laughter.

“Lae’zel! I can’t just mount him!” you whisper yell at her.

“I don’t know, she might have something to the direct approach” Shadowheart soothes

You glare at her “Oh you're done laughing on the floor?” She smirks with a shrug, absolutely no help.

“Fine, I will gather him for you.” -what?

Lae’zel starts going towards Rolan but you are quick to grab her and drag her out. As the puzzled patrons watch you carry out the githyanki fighter cussing you in her native tongue with Shadowheart trailing behind you, smirk on her face. You try to rush out as quickly as you can mortified that Rolan might be seeing the display.

Once outside you put her down with an apology, Shadowheart quickly places a hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder to prevent her from cutting off your head. “Why not try talking to the guys for advice? Maybe they can give you the male perspective on things.” Shadowheart offers.

Thinking for a moment you find that she might have a point, it might help to ask the guys for some advice.

Piercing your lips you study the smiling wizard in front of you waiting for your question.

“Actually Gale I don’t know if I should ask you for advice on this.”

Gale's face changes from a smile into hurt then moves to irritation, “Wh- and why not?” he practically huffs.

“Because the last time you tried to get a person to like you you ended up with a bomb in your chest.”

“Magic orb…” he mutters while Wyll laughs, nearly choking on his wine.

“Okay, Tav what advice are you needing? We can try our best to help aid you.” Wyll smooths out the tension of the room.

“Well…the thing is I need some advice on asking someone out. I figured our most intelligent and most charismatic party members would have some great advice.”

Wyll and Gale look at each other like they can detect each other's thoughts before they turn back to you “You're talking about asking out Rolan aren't you?”

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the duo, “Who told you I was coming?”

“Astarion and Shadowheart, they sang like canaries. Told us about your ...Mishaps” Gale says somewhat sing-songy.

Sure he might have gotten a bomb in his chest but at least he got some for the goddess… And Wyll Mr. Prince Charming, half the girls in the city who were in love with him and his fancy footwork. Hopefully, they will have some good advice. You watch as the two men start pacing along rubbing their chins deep in thought. You appreciate they are taking this so seriously for your sake.

“So have you at least tried? Asking him out? I know you two are pals but have you ever eluded to it.”

You give Wyll an unamused look “Yeah I tried, but then something horrid goes wrong, I’m either stepping on his tail or about to puke.”

Wyll nods trying to understand, “Maybe you could try to do an action, like an impromptu dance at the tavern between friends? The music is plentiful, and as you two sway along the music you can tell him with your eyes.”

You watch as Wyll mimics the swaying of a dance keeping intense eye contact with you, but Gale comes behind him and places a hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Don’t think that will work with Rolan, he's….kinda dense…”

Gale then lights up with the idea, “Why not ask him for some magic lessons? He can show you the ways of the weave and as you two flow through it, you can send him your thoughts.”

You think for a moment, you have had him teach you magic before but…that was at the grove…and things were different. You hold that memory when he taught you his trick dear and you're about to agree to it. But you stop…if Rolan rejects you during that…it would ruin that spell for you forever…

“Yeah…he's a strict teacher…can we think of something else…Something that can explain how I feel but I don’t have to choke over the words too.”

Gale and Wyll sit and think for a minute, then Wyll is snapping his fingers with an idea, “Why don’t you write him a letter!”

You look at Wyll a bit skeptical, “A letter?”

“Now that's the way to a wizard's heart, through the written word. Grand idea Wyll! Plus that helps with your shyness you can just hand him the letter! No conversion required!” Gale praises.

You think for a moment, writing isn’t exactly your thing but it might be your only option left. Plus you're sure Gale and Wyll will help you through it! With a nod, you give them the okay and Gale is already conjuring up some paper and quill. They sit themselves on both sides of you and help you get through your thoughts. You thought it would be best to keep some more private feelings to yourself. They both seemed to be rather…really into letter writing, Gale helped fill the letter with praise of Rolan's grandeur with magic. While Wyll helps you spruce it up with flourishes about how your heart dances for him. It turned out a bit cheesy but Wyll and Gale seemed to have a good time. Maybe they should start a poetry club?

Letter in hand you pace outside the shop, the letter was a great idea when Gale and Wyll were helping you write it but now… Now that you're here to give it to Rolan you're finding that familiar nervousness is eating away at you again. Peeking through the door you see that Rolan isn’t in the shop. It just seems to be his hologram today…Perfect! Now all you have to do is place it on the front desk for him to find later. That way if he isn’t into it you won’t have to meet his rejection immediately. The thought of Rolan looking at the letter and frowning pops into your mind, but you shake it off. Just place it down…easy…

“Tav! Hey!”

Pausing you Turn around and see Karlach running towards you waving with a huge smile on her face. This is not good… It's not that you don’t want to see Karlach, she is amazing and you two have become incredibly close. The reason that this isn’t good is that Karlach isn’t exactly…subtle… Karlach is a complete badass but when it comes to love and romance she is a complete softie gushing about it to everyone. Wyll had told her about a crush of his one time and she had gushed about the story to anyone who would listen. It’s truly sweet that she loves love so much and gushes about her friends' conquest, but you're trying to be subtle here, placing the letter then leaving quickly, if Karlach finds out about it she's going to give you being here away.

“Hello soldier, what are you doing loitering around Sundries? Waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no no…I just have this letter to give Rolan.”

“Oh! What's it about?”

“Just some questions about…spells…and curses…if he can detect the traces of the magical…What are you doing?” you quickly change the subject not being able to think of a good lie.

“I was just at the Forge of the Nine catching up with Dammon, I had found some good iron ingots and wanted to give them to him, he could use them more than me anyways…” -oh Karlach you cutie

Karlach looks into sundries and appears to be looking around a bit, her smile slowly dies away before she turns back to you, “Well, I think you're out of luck soldier, Rolan doesn't seem to be around.”

You shrug trying to seem as unfazed as possible, “That's fine, I will just leave it on the front desk.”

“Or you could give it to-”

“No! No the desk will work, I mean…it’s important but he will find it.” you quickly interject.

Karlach looks at you somewhat confused before she shrugs with a smile and follows you in. Finally, through the doorway, you quickly make your way to the desk and you feel…good! Finally one of your plans is going to work and you have Gales and Wyll's advice to thank! Maybe if this all goes well you will treat them to a drink at Elfsong. You will finally get your feelings off your chest, sure…it’s not exactly how you envisioned, but all the other attempts failed, this is easy and mess-free.

Right as you reach the desk, something tells you to look up. Looking up you see Rolan descending the stairs wrapped up in whatever tome he is reading. He hasn’t seemed to notice you however so maybe you can just drop the letter and run-

“Hey Rolan! What udder luck, Tav has a letter for you!” -shit

Rolan looks away from his tome, eyes seeming to widen when he sees you and Karlach. You feel all the blood rush to your face as his eyes meet yours, you can’t quite tell if he is pleased to see you or not, kinda of appears to be…annoyed…or surprised? Damn that handsome studious face!

Your hands tighten on the letter, you go to quickly place it on the desk and rush out but in the blink of an eye, the letter is out of your hand. Instead of it being in your hand or on the desk it's in Karlach’s hand as she is going towards the stairs…to Rolan…going to hand it to him! Oh, hells!

Rushing over to her you quickly snatch the letter from her hand. Karlach seems taken aback by your action, “Hey? What the fuck?”

Karlach tries to take the letter back after you rudely snatched it. “Tav isn’t this for him?”

“Uh…Yeah, but I changed my mind…”

“Changed your mind? But you said it was important?”

Karlach goes to take the letter from you again but this time it is not so easy to take from your hand. Now in the middle of Sundries, you and Karlach are having a tug of war over a letter while Rolan looks at you two trying to piece together what is going on. With some quick moves on your part, you're able to shoulder check Karlach, not knocking her over by any means but just enough to cause her to loosen her hold slightly.

Feeling successful you smile to yourself that you were able to get it back, but when you look back at Karlach your smile fades. Her eyes are narrowed and you see the hints of flames starting to spark around her, she looks pissed and you are about to get it. Looking up you see Rolan at the bottom of the stairs approaching you with a very irritated look, it makes sense you did have a fight in the middle of his shop.

Shoving the letter down your pocket you do the thing that you only seem to know how to do nowadays, run.

“Ohhhh…..so you wrote him a love letter….”

“Yeah…I wanted to just leave it on his desk but…that didn’t work out….”

You and Karlach sit on the stone wall looking out into the city watching the sunset. Of course, when you ran off she chased you down and demanded an explanation. You gave your explanation and that's how you are here now pouring your heart out to her.

“Tav, I think you're going about this all wrong.”

“Oh? How do you figure?”

“Well sure everyone giving their advice is nice but…I think you should just do what feels right to you. Instead of worrying about what he will say just…just stop being so scared and talk to him. Be honest. All these games, and trying to be sneaky isn’t how to do it. ”

You take in her words for a moment before you speak, “So…you're telling me Lae’zel had the best advice? Being direct?”

Karlach laughs “What I am saying is stop being so in your head Tav. Instead of talking to everyone else about this, just go talk to him. I promise it will be best that way.”

“When should I do it?”

Karlach hums then shrugs “Fuck if I know. Maybe it will just hit you.”

A smile spreads to your lips and you nod your head “Thanks Karlach, that...that's some really good advice…”

Karlach smacks your back, basically knocking the air out of you. “Don’t worry I am here for all your relationship advice needs!”

“So, how's Dammon?” you say coyly

“Oh don’t even start.”

Laying in bed you think about all the advice your friends gave you and how all the advice had turned out. Why does this have to be so hard….

Looking outside you see how late it is, people all around are either asleep or going home to rest but as you lay you listen to the stillness of the city. Then your thoughts go back to Rolan. How you ache to be held in his arms…to get to look into those golden eyes on a dark still night like this. To talk to him about everything and nothing as his fingers gently caress your skin. You know you would so easily melt under his touch. How it would comfort you, how you want to comfort him.

Rising from your warm bed you go to look out into the night of the city. With a click, you open the window and are met with the shivering cold of the night. A chill runs through you as you lean out and admire the star-dusted sky. For some reason, your thoughts go back to the night of the grove celebration. Rolan was being teased by his siblings as he focused on his fireworks show. They didn’t seem to be impressed but you clapped for him, before he gave some response about adoring fans there was a moment in his dark eyes where those golden fires shined just for you. That's when the glittering flickers within you started to storm. At the time you thought it was maybe residue from the magic, but now you know better.

Holding your hands out into the still night you mimic the moves that Rolan taught you after a few goblets of wine after he got more comfortable around you or maybe just got tired of your begging. As you gesture you feel the fluttering of magic down your arms to your hands, motioning your arms up you release the spell. You used to call it just simple fireworks. Though after that night it now has a new name for both of you; Rolan’s Fire

“What are you calling it?”

“Rolan’s Fire. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.”

The bursting lights grow in a flash then dim in a beautiful marriott of colors and white light. The elegance of the spell always fit him and it never failed to fill you with warmth, but now you still feel the bite of the cold despite how many memories of him you conger or how many times you spill the lights from your hands.

“Just talk to him…” Karlach's words echo in your mind. Of course, it’s that simple, but would it be enough? Could you even be able to articulate how he sends sparks through you? Would he want you to? Or would he want something different…Clenching your fist hard, your mind running rampant with thoughts, with advice, with what you should do. Then finally you come to your decision.

The cold air stings your face as you run down the dark streets. With every step, your mind screams how this is crazy but your heart urges your tired feet forward. Running as fast as your legs can take you, the city and the few late-night pedestrians blur beside you as your eyes keep forward to one goal. Ramazith’s Tower.

Running up to the tower you don’t even give yourself a minute to catch your breath before banging on the doors with all your might. You know you won’t be able to rest until you finally settle this with him. Rolan needs to know, you need to know so you can function again. The pinning of your heart has thoroughly consumed you, it’s time. If only this damn door would open!

The frustration you feel gets released as you beat against the door,

“Stop beating against that damn door!”

The voice sounds rough with sleep but still has that formal tone you have grown to listen for, to adore…

The door swinging open you immediately feel those sparks. His hair, usually tied back so precisely is knotted back in a messy rush, he looks surprised to see you. His handsome face contorted to scrunch in confusion at your slummed body still trying to catch your breath. Staring at him in this state is not helping you catch your breath in the slightest.

Rolan's chest, usually concealed underneath his robes, is now exposed showing off his toned chest covered in those defining ridges that decorate his red skin. Unable to help yourself, your eyes follow the trail of his ridges to his abs then the simple trousers that are keeping the rest of him from you.

“Tav?” his voice is laced with concern before it's going back to his usual irritated one. “What are you doing here? Going to act like a lunatic then run off again?” Rolan steps closer “What's been going on with you? I thought we were friends and you keep avoiding me! So what is it now that is so damned impor-”

“Rolan, how do I ask you out?” you interrupt while still trying to catch your breath.

“Wh-What?” Rolan's dark eyes are wide, any trace of sleep has been knocked out of him by your question.

Pushing past him you walk into the tower. The tower has usually been lit up when you have seen it before, but now it's dark and intimidating. Turning to look at Rolan he still has that shocked look on his face. You know your question is sudden, but you couldn’t think of anything else. Nervously you begin rambling.

“Look, I know it’s a sudden question but I don’t know what else to do. I have asked everyone for advice, and I just can’t seem to do any of it right. So might as well just ask the source right? Because all the stuff I have tried I choke, or Im making a complete ass out of myself. So please, just tell me…so I can do it and get this…nonning ache out! I know the reject-”

During your pacing rant, you feel hands cupping your face gently, slowly they raise your head to have you meet his golden eyes. All the words die off in your throat, Rolan’s is staring at you so intensely. With him so close you take in the details of his horns, the freckles peppering his red skin. The feeling of his hands warming your skin, you want to stay like this forever but you just wish you knew what he was thinking.

“Rolan I-”

“Quiet.”

Rolan’s command instantly silences you. The sparks you have been feeling are erupting into a storm of excitement that rushes through you. His thumbs carefully brush against your skin only making you lean in closer. Rolons eyes glow in the darkness, you want to tell him how they set you on fire but right as you're parting your lips Rolan dips down and presses his mouth to yours. His soft lips make all your thoughts melt away. The thundering sparks are bursting into a warmth throughout your body. Rolan’s Fire…

Slowly as he keeps guiding your lips with a growing intensity, then carefully you feel your body being guided back. Once you feel your back meet the wall you break the kiss with a gasp, but it's only a quick second before his lips are pressing to yours once more. Rolan's hands slide down from your jaw to your hips bringing them closer to press against himself. A soft moan leaves your chest when you feel the hardness of his arousal straining against you.

Rolan slips his tongue between your lips to taste you, the deepening of the kiss causes you to tighten your thighs feeling yourself getting wetter with each pass of his tongue. Your hands find a place on the hard ridges on his warm chest, as you trace over them slowly you feel him groan into the kiss. Then Rolan breaks the and his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks.

“Ask me now.”

The words barely register in your foggy mind as you feel Rolan slipping his hands underneath your shirt.

“What?” You can hardly manage the word, your shaky breath makes Rolan lean into your neck with a smile and a kiss, slowly he drags his soft lips against your skin sending shivers of excitement through you. Then his voice is back in your ear purring his words to you.

“Ask me out again…tell me what you want…please…I need to hear it.”

The hands underneath your shirt find your breasts and crease them as you stumble a moan trying to find your words.

“Rolan…”

“Yes?”, he whispers as he strips your shirt from you. His eyes roam over all your curves before he leans into your exposed chest, palming and lightly teasing at your sensitive skin.

“I want you in every way possible…I..want you,” you practically cry as you feel him move from your chest to sink lower, sliding his lips against your stomach. Once reaching the hem of your pants he tugs down your pants, rolling your pants and underwear down carefully exposing your wet sex.

Kneeling now you feel his lips press against your hips causing you to arch them forward. Shaky hands slide up the back of your thighs, suddenly you feel one of your legs being lifted to hook over his shoulder. Heart beating out of your chest you look down to see his eyes are already on you as he waits patiently on one knee. His eyes are completely blown with desire and you can feel the anticipation in his shaking touch as he rubs his hand on the outside of your thigh.

“Go out with me?” you ask desperately.

“Gods yes,” he groans before pressing his face into your folds, his hot tongue quickly finds your clit nudging and licking against the bundle making you throw your head back in a sharp gasp.

Rolan being a quick learner latches onto your swollen bundle, sucking and twirling his tongue against it. The sudden stimulation has a moan escaping you then quickly your hand comes down to grasp one of his horns, holding on desperately as you watch him ravishingly pleasure you.

Rolan's eyes widen then roll back as your grip gets tighter on his horn. The groan he releases from the sensation vibrates through you, tightening the coil in your stomach. The slick from your quivering slit is rolling down his chin. Moving slightly he laps his tongue to taste more, Adjusting so his perfect nose is rubbing against your clit. His tongue breaching your insides makes you grab both horns as you pull him in closer. You moan his name like a prayer as you ride against his face.

The more you tug on his horns the more he groans, he can't help but grasp hard on your behind making you whine more as his nails dig into you. Your stomach starts to suddenly tighten more as his velvet tongue finds the sweet stop within you.

“There! Fuck there! D-Don't, Ah!” you push your hips off the wall but he's quickly pushing them back against it to keep you still.

Keeping his eyes on you, he watches as the hot wave of pleasure rushes through you. Clasping your hand over your mouth you moan and shake as your orgasm hits. Rolan eagerly licks and sucks up your release as you ride out your high.

Finally coming down from it Rolan starts to move away from your spent cunt, though before he's moved away completely he gives a quick nip to your clit making you let out a sharp whine.

Body feeling feverish you lean and brace yourself against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily. Rolan rises from his kneel and you watch in awe as a mix of your arousal and his spit glistens against his perfect face. He brings his hand to wipe his face, his eyes flicking down at you as he smiles then licks up the residue from his fingers.

“Meet me at Elfsong tomorrow night?”

Stars in your eyes you nod absentmindedly at him, “Yes…”

Gods you can’t wait for tomorrow…

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norman-fucking-reedus · 2 months

Text

Guys I’m thinking about Rick and Daryl fighting, like Daryl is definitely a professional little brother and spends all day wrecking havoc upon Rick (and maybe a few others)

also I know Daryl is a hardcore hair puller. In the bed and in fights. When he and Merle would fight, it was like a second nature for his hands to latch onto to curly hair, yanking the strands and on one occasion knocking his head into a wall

me when rickyl but also brotherhood

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

On the outside, Daryl Dixon was quiet, dark, and mysterious. He was a dusty book that had been closed and locked tight for decades, never opening up no matter who or what tried to pry. Most people would think that he was just one of the ones that never expressed any type of concern or emotion, but really, Daryl’s just a silent person. Until someone he knows pops into the picture.

“Get tha’ fuck off me! Get tha’ fuck off of me!” His voice rang out through the community alongside side Dogs chaotic barking.

People rushed out of their homes at what they thought were very distressed cries, Carol’s bow loaded and almost aimmed as he stepped out onto hers, only frowning deeply when she saw what all the ruckus was.

Daryl and Rick were wrestling in the dirt, the huntersman pinned down underneath the officer in a very uncomfortable looking position. Dog was barking at the two of them, tail wagging in the air as he stood in a playful position, standing over his defeated owner.

“Blah blah blah. You’re just a sore fucking loser” Rick laughed at him, pointing a finger in Daryl’s face, and pulling it away when his sharp teeth clamped down. “Gon’ make mah dog eat you alive” The man grumbled and squirmed.

“Gonna make the walkers eat you both alive” You sighed from where you had approached behind Rick, Dog now eagerly lapping and jumping around you as you too stood over your defeated hunter. “Seriously?” You shook your head and pushed Rick off the man, watching the way he dramatically fell over. “He started it! I was bein’ nice” Daryl frowns, and so does Rick, sitting up to face Daryl who had childishly wrapped himself around your leg. “Nuh uh, no! This asshole tried sticking mud down my pants!” Daryl cackled at the sentence and you knew he was gulity.

“You two are grown ass men” You huffed, shaking your leg slightly only for Daryl’s to tighten his grip. Absolutely wonderful.

“He needs to be put in time out” Rick grumbled, and you wondered if you were getting paid for this. “Time out?”

“Time out?” Carol approached, bow and arrow no longer in hand.

Daryl pointed at Rick, while Rick pointed at him, both men staring daggers at each other. “Him! He fucking started this!”

You share a look with Carol as the men bicker, and it’s quite funny untill you feel a sudden emptiness at your leg, and Daryl is hurling a ball of mud at Rick, who unfortunately catches it with his face. “Now I can really call ya ‘shitface grimes’” Daryl laughed as he climbed to his feet, standing behind you as Rick wiped his eyes clear, immediately locking them on his target.

Daryl doesn’t wanna admit that he didn’t think Rick would just go right around you, yelling when the officer took a swipe at him. “Stop it yew shit eater!” Daryl ran away with Rick hot on his heels, Dog sprinting right alongside them and barking excitedly.

“Can you imagine a small mini version of all that?” You shake your head, smiling softly at Carol. “You have got quite the character on your hands. Clinging to your leg? He must love you” You laughed, peering up the street where they had run off too, a cloud of dirt forming as they tussled, and from Daryl’s very loud screams he was probably getting what he deserved. “Dealing with him? He better love me” You scoff, knowing that your giant manchild loves you more than life itself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Each press of the cotton to his skin makes him hiss, and he winces at the burning sting of alcohol. “No more fights” You frown softly, tilting Daryl’s head as you cleaned his wounds, gingerly placing bandaids over them. “But he-“ “Yes I know he started it, he also finished it” Daryl pouts, legs swinging off the countertop. You stick a bandage over his nose, and kiss his forehead. “All better. I want you in this house before it’s too dark, okay?” Daryl drops onto his feet, and plants a quick but eager kiss on your lips. “Yes mama” He tosses over his shoulder as he snatches his crossbow off the floor, barreling out the door with Dog. You watched them go, a smile tugging your lips. It faded at the sound of a Rick’s high pitched scream.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

looks around because I dont know what happened and because I really like childish Daryl now and wanna write more

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x female reader #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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revasserium · 8 months

Note

to the lighthouse - Zoro and what guides him home

10. to the lighthouse

zoro; 2,320 words, opla!zoro, the fluffiest of fluff, straw hat!reader, established relationship

summary: you just wanted to buy some apples; now complete with a prequel right here

a/n: aggressively adorable, truly -- i have no excuse for this okay. i'm just so freakishly whipped for opla!zoro pls dont look at at me

zoro has never been great shakes at directions (navigation has always been more nami’s thing, and he knows his place in the world), but he’s never needed a compass to find his way home. once, he might have. once, he would’ve wandered and wondered forever and ever, believing the great unknowns of the world to be his compass rose, the horizon his true north, but not anymore. because you see, he’s grown since then — he’s gotten bigger, stronger, more ruthless, more deadly. but he’s gotten smarter too… if only just by a little bit.

he’s learned since then that home doesn’t have to be a place, that it can just as easily be a person.

or, in his case, that it could be both.

“warn me, the next time you plan on getting kidnapped for ransom, would’ya?”

there’s blood on his headband and blood on his shoes, but he can’t quite keep his voice as gruff as he’d like, even as he hauls you bodily onto the deck of the going merry, scowling as you kick your feet in a feeble attempt to get him to let you go.

“it’s not like i was trying to get kidnapped! i was getting apples from the market!”

“yeah, in broad daylight, in a giant port town where all our faces are plastered across wanted posters! even i could’ve told you that’s a bad idea.”

you yelp as he dumps you unceremoniously onto the kitchen’s large wooden table, mumbling to himself as he beings to rummage through the drawers for a first aide kit, slamming cupboards as he goes.

you fold your arms, unable to stop the grin from tugging at your lips.

“did you… just call yourself dumb?”

zoro whirls around, color blotching into his cheeks as he glares, “i — f — you know what i mean!”

he whips back around and slams a drawer so hard the handle breaks; he swears even as you start to laugh, wincing and clutching at your stomach, the skin of your side tender and growing more so by the minute.

“o-ow! don’t make me laugh! it hurts!”

“serves you right… stupid… parading around… not paying attention…”

he slams the first aid kit onto the table next to you, roughly swatting your hand out of the way as he gingerly lifts your shirt to inspect the damage.

“i’m fine —”

“you’re not fine, and quit squirming. i’m not chopper so if i fuck up, it’s your fault.”

you press your lips and hold still, hissing as he carefully dabs at a rather large gash between two of your ribs.

“and i wasn’t parading… i mean, my face isn’t on a wanted poster yet so…”

zoro spares you a single look before going back to his work, “yeah. yet.”

you deflate, inching forward slightly to make his job a bit easier as he continues to clean your wound, his touch now so much gentler than anyone might give him credit for. you watch him with soft eyes, trail the tracks of his fingers as he fumbles with the alcohol soaked cotton pad, daubing at the raw red of your skin. you wondered if anyone who hunted him from his picture on a wanted poster would recognize him now, his cheeks flushed, his brows lightly furrowed, his eyes sharp and steady as tried his best not to hurt you.

“there,” he says, his voice short and rough as he presses his palm over a strip of clean gauze, sealing it in place. he pulls back to admire his handiwork, looking as pleased as he might’ve been if he’d just decapitated an entire infantry’s worth of men without drawing a single sword.

you gingerly tug your shirt back down, your skin feeling much warmer at the places where he’d touched, his palm-print burning like a brand along the expanse of your ribs. you gulp and clear your throat.

“sorry… i — i didn’t mean to.”

“save it,” and then, when you wince at his tone, zoro sighs, scratching at the back of his neck as he leans up against the table next to you, “i know you didn’t. i was just…”

and it’s his turn to pause, to clear his throat and look away.

“sanji… sanji wanted apples for the curry he’s making tonight,” you say, kicking your feet, your eyes trained on the tips of your shoes as they swing up and down in succession — right, left, right, left, right —

“apples in curry? ew.”

“he said they’re the secret ingredient! and — apparently, the better the apples, the better the curry, and it’s — well, it’s fall so they’re in season right now, and nami said this island is known for their apple orchards so i thought — maybe if i went to the market on the first day i’d be able to snag the best ones —”

he cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing passed your surprised squeak before your eyes flutter shut, your lashes tickling his cheeks like moth wings. you can almost taste his satisfied smirk when your fingers curl into the front of his shirt to tug him closer.

“you’re rambling… you only do that when you’re nervous.”

you bite your lip but zoro presses his thumb to your chin, tilting your head up till he meets your eyes.

“why’re you nervous?”

“i — i’m not —”

“hm. you’ve always been a shit liar.”

you try to tug your head away from him but his grip is strong, his other hand casually resting below your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft of your hips, holding you in place.

“it’s… nothing…” but he’s right. you have always been a terrible liar, even worse to the people who know you. and god does zoro know you.

zoro’s grin goes wolfish as he cocks his head, eyeing you as a hunter might his prey, “pretty little liar though… i gotta say,” he drags his thumb along the bottom of your lip, pushing against the plush of your mouth, his eyes going dark as he watches the way your breath hitches.

“but even pretty little liars deserve to be punished, don’t they?” he leans in, breath hot by your ear, his words chasing shivers up and down your spine. you fight back a whimper, knowing that if he were truly to pin you there, there’d be nothing you could do to escape him.

“unless… you wanna tell me the truth?”

you let out a shuddering breath before sighing.

“w-we — we wanted to — to throw you a birthday party.”

zoro pauses, his darkened gaze going wide for a second before he pulls back, visibly confused.

“b…birthday? uh — that’s not till november —”

“i know but… who knows if we’ll be docked by then, and… your favorite season is autumn so…” you shrug, voice small even as you try to duck and hide the blush rushing up into your cheeks.

“so… you went to get apples… for my not-birthday birthday dinner?”

“i mean — your favorite food is rice and… curry goes the best with rice, right?”

zoro lets out a breathy laugh, his hand falling to press against your other hip. but before he can say anything else, sanji’s voice echoes in from just beyond the door before it swings open to reveal sanji, with his arms full of groceries and usopp close behind him, nearly running into sanji’s back as he comes to an abrupt stop at the sight before him.

“darling, did you manage to get those apples? y’know if we’re really gonna make this curry, it’ll have to stew for a good three or so hours — oh — my apologies… was i interrupting something? decide to give the lucky man an amuse bouche before his main course tonight, yeah?”

you groan and try to tug away but zoro merely quirks an eyebrow, seemingly unphased.

“why’re you putting apples into perfectly good curry?”

at this, sanji rolls his eyes and hoists the groceries on to the kitchen table next to you, casting zoro a scathing look.

“look man, i don’t question your sword-swinging and you don’t question my cooking, alright? now, if you’re really thirsting to know — the sweetness in the apples gives texture to the curry as it stews, and that’s what makes it so damn delicious when you pair it with the rice, got it?”

zoro scoffs, his hands still planted firmly on either side of your hips even as sanji starts to pull out all the varied ingredients for the meal. behind him, usopp is juggling an impressive number of liquor bottles as he tries to slot them into the drinks rack.

“yeah. we’ll see,” and with a single arm, zoro hoists you from the table and sets you down on the ground next to him, guiding you from the kitchens even as sanji shoots you a salacious wink.

“you’ll be singin’ to a different tune when you’ve had your first taste, moss-head!”

zoro doesn’t grace that with a response, steering you out of the kitchens before yelling for usopp to toss him a bottle of something good over his shoulder.

later that night, when the party is in full swing, he finds you by the carved white railings at the darkened head of the ship, eyes trained on the far horizon. behind you both, luffy is standing on a barrel, belting some old drinking song while nami laughs and sanji swings chopper in a strange, uncoordinated two-step.

“hey,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his.

“oh! hey…” you cast him a smile as he takes another swig from his nearly empty glass.

“why aren’t you —” he jerks his head back towards the swinging, dancing, laughing crew.

you bite back a smile, shrugging, “i was just… thinking.”

“oh. well, that’s not good.”

you slam your shoulder into his but he barely moves, chuckling.

“today… when you saved me from those kidnappers… how’dyou know where to find me?”

you turn to look at him, and for a second, the question almost catches him off guard. he stares at you, as if unsure himself how to answer before he grins, his eyes slipping from you out towards the darkness beyond as behind you both, sanji starts in on a showtune in a warbled language neither of you can understand.

“actually, ‘m not sure… i just… had a feeling.”

you blink, “you… had a feeling?”

“yeah like… y’know when uh — turtles and stuff always know how to get back to the beach where they were born?”

your eyebrows slowly migrate up your forehead this words as you stare at him, dumbstruck.

“zoro… you’ve gotten lost on a straight road before —”

“shut up! it’s not — it’s different though… i dunno how to explain it, but i just… i just knew. something — something wasn’t right and i knew i had to find you.”

and even in the relative darkness, you can see the color seeping into his cheeks. you let yourself laugh, glancing down at the half-finished drink in your own hands.

“i’ll… i’ll always find you.”

you look up at his words, his voice so much softer than you’re used to, the words so much more tender. you look up to find him watching you, his gaze soft and warm, sweet and molten.

“even if it takes me forever… i’ll… i’ll always find my way to you.”

and you wonder if it’s the alcohol, you wonder if it’s the darkness gifted by the moonless night, the prickling light of a hundred thousand stars winking above in the velvet sky.

you nod, raising your glass in quiet acceptance of his words, of this solemn vow that you know he’d never make without the intention of honoring it until time itself has breathed its last.

you clink your glass against his.

“happy birthday.”

zoro laughs, shaking his head, “can’t believe you’re making me celebrate two months early.”

“we can throw another party when its your actual birthday.”

“yeah — just promise me you won’t get kidnapped again.”

you laugh, shaking your head, “as long as you promise that if i do… you’ll be there to find me.”

zoro raises his glass to his lips, “i’ll drink to that.”

you toss your own drink back, feel the burn of it work it’s way down your throat, the fire settling in the pit of your stomach as zoro tugs you by the hand back to the heart of the party, where nami screams and throws her arms round you, pulling you into a suffocating hug and sanji nearly trips over trying to refill your glass.

zoro grins, laughing as luffy wobbles and nearly smashes into the main mast. he lets sanji refill his drink; he lets luffy pull him into a unwilling sea shanty, everyone swaying left and right with the uneven rhythm of the drowsy sea.

and he realizes, not for the first time, though it still sometimes comes as a surprise — that there’s no place he’d rather be. because you see, for zoro home is both a place and a person — the place is here with his crew around him, the ocean beneath them, the world sprawled out like a map at their feet.

and the person… he looks up across the raucous merry-making to catch your eye, to catch a breath of your bright, bell-like laughter — he’s never been more sure of anything else in his entire life that the person… is you.

opla!zoro requests r open LOL (literally idk if i will write anyone else but him at this point but EY if u got a req....)

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darnell-la · 2 months

Text

Forbid - Steve Harrington , Eddie Munson & Billy Hargrove (part 2)

pairing: unhinged!steve harrington x cocky!billy hargrove x cocky!eddie munson x reader

summary: after finishing y/n off, Eddie and Billy drive to Steve’s place to show them the mess y/n put herself into. Steve thought he could let her run free, he even tried to give her a chance to be right, but she can never shut her mouth. at least no fast enough.

note: this will be the last part of this series, but if you guys would like more of the stranger things trio, request in our inbox or message us! please, we enjoy these so much!

WE DO NOT ALLOW COPIES TO ANY OF OUR STORIES!

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

“She’s gone quiet. Fuckin’ pathetic,” Eddie snapped his hip hard just once to get a tired whine out of her. She’s been cumming and crying all night, allowing the two men to take her over.

“I honestly thought she’d last longer than us,” Billy said, surprised at how much they’ve drained her. “I don’t think she’s had good cock in her life. Been messin’ around with them young folks,” Eddie said.

She’s told Eddie about her horrible hookups, and now she’s regretting everything she’s told him. He knows so much about her that she can’t lie or hide anything from her. She can’t even hide that she loves this, from him.

“Ain’t that right, sweetheart? Been fucked by all of these kids, and now you can’t take real cock. I mean, look at you. I barely have to fuck you hard,” Eddie said, still thrusting his hips. He’ll never get over watching her suck him back in.

“Mhm,” y/n finally answered him back from the fuck sessions him and Billy have given her for the past hours. “You love being passed around between us two? Imagine how you’ll feel with three grown cocks stuffing every last hole you’ve got to give,” Eddie rubbed down y/n’s back as he felt himself get close once again.

“So fuckin’ full,” Eddie groaned low as he spilled inside her one last time for right now. He can’t keep going. He’s been at this with Billy for a good hour, and he needs to save up, just in case they need to join in at the house.

“I’ll take her to her car while you drive to Steve. Need time to tie her up,” Eddie spoke to Billy as he pulled out of y/n. The weak girl instantly fell off of the car. Both of their bodies have been holding her up this whole time.

“Alright, I’ll give you want you need,” Billy began looking through his bags. “Wanna be professional or careless?” Billy asked, remembering he has proper huffs and ropes. “Careless. She’s free use, remember?” Billy said as he looked down at y/n’s used and cummed-in body.

Hearing that word free-use for them makes this whole situation mind blowing to her. She’s actually living her dreams.

“I’ll meet you there,” Billy handed over some ropes and other things to Eddie before throwing his bag in the car, getting in and driving off. Y/n shouted a few things, confused on why Billy is leaving since she’s completely missed that Eddie will be taking her to Steve.

“Corporate,” Eddie looked down at y/n before getting on his knees and beginning to tie her up. “What the- Eddie! This session is over! Let me go!” Y/n said, but Eddie didn’t come here for a session. In fact, he set this up, hoping y/n would be good for him and Steve, but she failed

“You think I give a shit about your little whore-session!?” Eddie yelled in her face then continued tying her down. Eddie grew angry at the way y/n fought back. He was planning on taking it easy in her, but she asked for it.

After Eddie got done, he tapped her mouth shut. “How about that,” Eddie chuckled before grabbing the anal plug and lube Billy left for him. “Let’s see how you do with your ass full,” Eddie grabbed y/n and forced her on her stomach.

The tied up girl tried yelling and squirming around to get up from Eddie, but it wasn’t happening. Eddie spread y/n’s cheeks until her asshole was exposed. “Fuck, it’s tight,” Eddie groaned as he rubbed a finger along it.

Y/n whined at his touch. “Yeah, you like that?” Eddie asked as he squeezed the lube bottle over her hole. Y/n hitched at the cold feeling on asshole, making Eddie groan. “Yeah,” Eddie groaned under his breath before placing the bottle down and rubbing it in.

“You’re gonna be so full,” Eddie smirked down at the pretty girl who’s currently running wild in her kind. Billy left her to Eddie. Billy left her just for Eddie’s own small pleasure, and she can’t seem to hate it.

Without warning, the older man pushed at the girls entrance. “Ah, fuck, fuck!” Y/n whined as Eddie pushed further and further into her until the plug was fully in her.

“You’re just so tight. Christ,” Eddie admired the pretty pink diamond plug is y/n’s asshole. “Gonna have to get use to it,” Eddie said before getting up and placing the lube and plug in his pocket.

Eddie quickly picked y/n up and swung her over his shoulder before walking off with her. “Y/n tried kicking, but her feet and knees are tied and her wrist are tried behind her back.

“Keep fightin’ and this night will only get better,” Eddie said as he touched all over y/n’s ass. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she’s beginning to notice it. Even on Billy’s part.

Eddie had threw y/n in the back seat of her own car before taking off. Y/n kept her act up but kicking, screaming and begging, but her mouth is taped. He paid no mind to his little prize as he drove all the way to Steve’s house.

Billy had gotten there before them, so as soon as Eddie pulled up, he hopped out of the car to grab y/n and throw her over his shoulders.

“He’s gonna be very very angry, baby. I wish I could help you,” Eddie fake pouted in y/n’s face before walking towards Steve’s front door. She’s so confused, and scared right now. What if people see her? This could go so wrong all because she’s had this sick little kink.

After Eddie unlocked Steve’s house since he knows where he leaves his spare key, Billy carried y/n upstairs and into Steve’s guest room that Eddie showed him the way too.

The two older men had kept themselves up and made money, so a big house like this is nothing to them, but for y/n, it’s something brand new.

“Oh, Stevie!” Eddie shouted through the house as he made his way to Steve in the shower. Y/n heart dropped, confused and in shock. No. Steve can’t see her like this.

That’s when the still tied up girl began kicking and screaming. Everything’s still muffled, only making Billy laugh at how humiliating she looks.

“You don’t have good fighting Instinkts, princess. We’ll have to work on that, but for now, I need you to calm down,” Billy stood next to y/n who’s in the middle off a bed, trying to wiggle free.

“Hey, Steve!” Eddie knocked on Steve’s bathroom door before stepping in. “What’s up?” He asked as he rinsed himself off. “Guess who I found,” Eddie said as Steve stood there confused and waiting for Eddie to speak up.

“Our little sweetheart,” Eddie said, instantly boiling Steve’s blood. “She actually went? There’s no way,” Steve said. He had thought Eddie was lying about him talking to Billy about y/n and this app, but he clearly wasn’t.

“Billy fucked her!?” Steve basically screamed. “Yep,” Eddie laughed, knowing that would mess with Steve and get him angrier. He would hate for y/n to be fucked unconscious for disobeying him.

“I did too,” Eddie smirked at the man, making Steve rub his face in frustration. “See for yourself. She’s in your guest bed all tied up on display for you,” Eddie said before waking out, not even closing the bathroom door.

Steve hit the shower knob, trining the shower off as he tried keeping himself together. Steve has never had this idea to hurt y/n in any sexual way. He’s always wanted soft and slow sex with his perfect girl, but something about y/n makes him want to act out of his limits.

Steve quickly dried himself up and walked to his room to at least put boxers on. He couldn’t wait long enough to get fully dressed or even dry his hair. He has to see if she actually went out disloyal.

“Oh, I think it’s him, darling. Might wanna calm down,” Eddie said, setting alarms off in Steve’s head. He knows she shouldn’t go in. If he sees her, he’ll flip, but he had to see. He just had to check and see if his perfect girl cheated.

Steve slowly walked around the corner, and at the same time, y/n and Steve’s heart dropped. Y/n instantly stopped kicking and screaming as Steve’s made his way in the room.

Steve took a short look at Billy before looking back at y/n. He hasn’t talked to Billy in a good two years, and any time he has, it’s always some stupid argument or about y/n.

“Why?” Steve asked. Billy ripped the tape off of y/n’s mouth, making her yelp. “I-I’m sorry, I swear! I swear Mr, Harrington!” Y/n began to tear up. “Mr. Harrington?” Steve asked with a scoff before he turned around and rubbed his face.

“Watch what your say, princess,” Eddie warned y/n. “I-I’m sorry, Steve,” y/n corrected herself, but it’s far too late. Now he sees what she sees him as. A coworker, and he can’t have that.

“Y/n,” Steve spoke as he slowly turned back towards her. “I’m going to give you another chance. I have sympathy for you. From now on, you only go place after asking me. You only speak to me and whoever I allow you to speak to,” Steve started making rules.

“You won’t need to work, for I will provide for you. You’ll even move in, but I will not accept this whore activity. You’ve pissed me off far enough,” Steve tried saying in his best voice possible.

“I- Steve, I’m a grown woman. Look, I get this looks bad, but — You’re not my father,” y/n said, making Eddie and Billy steps back. They knew what was coming.

“I’m not trying g to be your father, y/n! I’m trying to be a good loyal man to you, but you’re just fucking up and walking around free. You can’t do that! We forbid you do this app shit, and look at you! You fucked Billy!” Steve yelled.

“She even sucked me off,” Billy spoke quietly then kept his mouth closed. Knowing what Steve will do when he’s mad is something Billy and Eddie want to see.

“You sucked him off!?” Steve asked y/n before grabbing his face again. “No! Well, yeah, but, I don’t know,” y/n said. “You’re banded from being around any type of man, I don’t fucking care if it’s someone working at a cash register. You are forbidden!” Steve demand.

“Hell, no! You’re not my dad, brother or fuckin’ boyfriend, Steve. You can’t do this!” Y/n argued back and forth with him, but deep down, she likes being told what she can and can’t do. He must really want her to himself.

“Oh, is that so? Oh, so you only listen to strangers who fuck you, hm? Is that what it is!? I gotta be a stranger and fuck your cunt full for you to listen!?” Steve yelled at her. He didn’t plan to, but he left out the room to grab his kink bag.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie jumped around before sitting done in front of the bed on a sofa. Billy joined him before Steve entered the room. “I’ll give you what you want then, since little brats like you get everything they fuckin’ dream of,” Steve said as he went through his bad.

The older man angrily set up these equipment on his bed board and foot board. “Steve, calm down. We can figure something out,” y/n said, already settled and willing to hear Steve out, but he’s done talking and trying to help her understand.

Steve roughly grabbed y/n and untried her. She thought he was letting her go, but he instantly grabbed her wrists and wrapped them to his bed board before he went to her feet and did the same.

“What the fuck! Steve! You can’t just fuckin’ kidnapp me! I didn’t agree to this in any fuckin’ messages,” y/n yelled at him. Steve had enough. He walked face height of her on the bed and slapped her hard.

“That’ll shut her up,” Billy chuckled low in front of the bed as Eddie laughed to himself. “You really think I care what you said in some social media messages, y/n!? You cheated!” Steve yelled.

“I didn’t cheat! We’re not dating!” Y/n was still confused int that before. Steve quickly climbed on top of her and wrapped his right hand around her neck to make her focus on his words and his words only.

“You’ve been mine since I laid eyes on you. And I know you know how I feel by the way you act around me and Eddie. Sometimes you’re a girls girl but most of the time you’re bad, and you know it. You fuckin’ know it but you keep playing,” stave gripped harder.

“I-I don’t understand,” y/n chocked, not getting where he’s trying to get at. “I’ll make you,” Steve said before reaching in his pants to pull his already hard cock out.

“Oh my- Steve, no! No, no, no, no, no,” y/n repeated as she began wiggling again. She’s to sore and he’s to big. He’s definitely bigger than Billy and Eddie. It’s not like they were small, but ones thicker and the other is longer. Steve is both.

“Oh, yeah, and you’re gonna lay here and take it. You get no more choices,” Steve said as Eddie and Billy got up and untied her feet. She thought they were helping her, but they grappled this strap and wrapped her legs against but this time, place some of the wrap around the back of her neck, forcing her legs up and wide open.

“Wait, no! Guys, please, don’t! I can’t! I can’t do anymore!” Y/n’s eyes began glossing up. What if she passed out? That’ll be embarrassing. But at the same time, she knows she’d like it. Fuck!

“And your ass is full!? Holy shit, you’re a goddamn slut,” Steve gripped y/n’s neck again, this right now to tight as he grabbed his cock and pushed at her wet and still soaked cunt.

“You’re already so full of cum. God, you’re just something else,” Steve slammed all the way into y/n, not caring how load she screamed. “Safe word?” Billy asked, still checking for her half-ass confirmation. Y/n stayed silent.

“The fuck is that?” Steve asked, saying still as he looked at Billy. “To make sure she’s fine with this, but don’t worry. She’s a whore. She liked almost anything,” Billy said as Steve slowly turned towards y/n watching her eyes on his.

“Is that true? Are you a little whore? You like it rough and old?” Steve asked as he slowly pulled out and slowly pushed back in. “F-Fuck!” Y/n threw her head back.

“Huh!?” Steve pulled out fast and roughly slammed back it, knocking the wind out of y/n’s lungs. The already drained girl rolled her eyes back as he jaw stayed opened, trying to find enough air but its barley coming.

“Answer me!” Steve gripped y/n’s neck harder than the last time he did, but she refused to admit to it. “Answering me you fuckin’ slut. Answer me!” Steve yelled inches away from her face. Her mind grew foggy as his grip stayed the same.

“Motherfucker,” Steve cussed under his breath as he began to snap his hips against her bare skin allowing the hole room to fill with so many nasty noises. The two other men couldn’t stop watching the way Steve used her.

“Wanna be free use? Here you fuckin’ go. Free fuckin’ use like a dirty little bitch. God, you will not live a day without me fucking this cunt so full of cum. I swear to god, I’m going to make you understand who the fuck I am to you,” Steve grabbed y/n’s hair with his free and and tugged at it, letting out moan from her.

“Mhm? Ya like it? Ya fuckin’ like my cock in you? Like old dick so much you can’t fuckin’ breathe, hm? Tell me. Tell your man how much you like his cock drilling’ a hole in your gut,” Steve’s lips slightly touched her ear as he growled.

“I-I-I-“ y/n couldn’t form anything. She’s to fucked out to think, but she knows anything she says will be the truth. “I-I- Fuckin’ say it!” Steve yelled in her face as he snapped his hips after, staring straight into her eyes.

“Want,” y/n struggled. “C’mon, Stevie. Let the girl speak,” Eddie suggested. “Yeah, she’s bound to pass out,” Billy chuckled, seeing how rough Steve can be to what’s his, and he has no problem with it. As long as he gets to see it and take next.

“There. Fuckin’ say it or a fuck you face until you go slack,” stage threatened, and as much as she’d like that, she couldn’t today. “I-I want you. A-All of you,” tears streamed down the pretty girls face as she get her cries quiet.

“Is that so, baby? You want me?” Steve asked in a way better tone then he last spoke. “Y-Yes. I-I want you, baby. P-Please take me,” y/n’s cunt began clinching down in Steve’s cock like the tightest cock sleeve he could ever buy.

“Want me to take you whenever I want? Take you like my perfect little, princess, baby?” Steve spoke into the crook of y/n’s neck as her eyes rolled back and she finally came around Steve’s huge cock.

“Augh, fuck,” Steve moaned as his thrust stuttered and he finally spilled a massive load inside y/n’s cunt. You could hear the wet noises and bubbles building and leaking out of her cunt.

“Now I’m hard again,” Eddie said, making the circle continue. Once one fucks, the others get hard and it never ends. “I-I’ll take it,” y/n said low as Steve slowly pulled out of his girl.

“As long as you know you’re ours. Mine the most, but ours. No more app. No more skipping around Hawkins actin’ free. All ours,” Steve spoke what he wanted. “All yours,” y/n agreed before passionately making out with Steve as the other two men got themselves undressed and ready to please their girl.

part one!

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diejager · 3 months

Note

That room cleaning ask with konig and Horangi was soooo good 😭 I can’t help but feel like if that was me I’d be super depressed if all my things were moved and taken away! How would konig deal with a grumpy avoidant reader? He can’t fuck her if she’s never around right? Like she’s spending barely any time in her room because it just upsets her and more time out with her friends and away from home! How would konig feel about his precious lil stepdaughter not being home for dinner most nights

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, misogyny, age difference, tantrum, creampie, spit roasting, double penetration, rough sex, tell me if I missed any.

He… doesn’t know where to go from there or how to fix it. You’re always out, gone from the house he was so used to see you, the place that was filled with calmness and comfort that he’d grown to love. Dinners were deathly silent, your seat cold and vacant, your room left almost untouched by your missing presence, and the house loosing its light from your days spent outside. It was awkward, looking at you mope and glare his way whenever he crossed your path.

Neither König nor Horangi could approach you, they could touch you or indulge in your body, drowning you in pleasure and eating you up like they used to. Every step was met with a slap of your wrist or a hiss, your shoulder scrapping his biceps when you pushed past him and Horangi. You were avoiding them, they learned, you putting your foot down in the weirdest way to keep them away from you. König couldn’t wrap his head around your acts. Why would you even avoid him? Going out of your way to physically hit him when you didn’t dare before.

He only understood when Horangi pulled him aside after you went to bed, explaining how he thought you were mad at all of them for forcing you to throw your collectibles and accessories out. You were lashing out at them for it, a long drawn and petty tantrum you were throwing because you were sad and angered. König let you off with it, ignoring your tantrum, assuming you’d grow out of it after a while, bored and tired of your new schedule you forced yourself into. It was - after all - less comfortable and easy than spending time with them at home, taking all the cock both he and Horangi could give and stuffing your stretched cunt and ass with all the cum you’d ever want!

But when you hadn’t, nearing a whole month, Horangi took it upon himself to start the conversation, gripping your bicep and moving you to the living room after your mother left. It started off with you bickering with them, snapping and spitting venom to the towering men, neither of them hands expected you to lash out so violently, rarely seeing such vitriol from you. Fortunately, it was an issue easily fixed: by bending you over the armrest and fucking you into König’s big cock, the heavy and musky girth choking you up whenever Horangi snapped his hips.

All your whining and squirming stopped with the right nudge of his cock, shutting you up for good until you decided to open your mouth. They took turns with you, rolling you back and froth from your back and stomach to look at your teary and dazed eyes when you were split in half, and to watch your cunt swallow up their cock and your swollen clit twitching. König was glad to see that you were back to your usual the next day, pouting and mumbling under your breath while you limped through the house.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Dear author, if you are taking requests can I please get you an extremely rough and wild nsfw with jealous possessive Daemon x fem reader, where he makes her ride it into oblivion (add whatever kink you see fit) please?

Here you go, my friend. I hope this pleases you.

Warnings: Mention of injury, jealous and possessive behaviour, choking, spitting, smut. Word count: ~1100

Daemon’s mood is foul. His temper flares the moment he sees her place her favour onto the lance of that Lannister cunt. While their coupling isn’t public knowledge, she should know better than to entertain the attention of other men, lesser men.

The urge to jump the tilt and storm his way into the ladies court in order to seize her and remind her of who she belongs to is almost overwhelming. He knows he cannot though, so instead sets his sights keenly on his opponent as he sits atop his horse at the opposite end of the tiltyard. The red and gold of the Lannister caparison serves only to further his irritation. The sight of her wreath of flowers dangling from the base of the other man’s lance spurs him into action as he urges his horse to charge forward.

He notices the Lannister swing his lance slightly off target as he canters to meet him, an indication that he is experiencing difficulties and does not want to be hit. Daemon ignores this, striking him square in the breast plate with the tip of his weapon and causing him to fall from his horse with a sickening thud.

The horse master rushes towards the counter tilt. “He requested a mercy pass, Your Highness!”

Daemon lifts his helmet, watching with a smirk as the ground crew rally to help the Lannister Lord to his feet. “Did he now? How careless of me.”

He is badly winded and it is determined that his arret and grapper were not properly attached. The resulting blow from Daemon has likely broken his ribs and he will be unable to continue with the tourney.

Daemon dismounts from his horse with smug satisfaction and strides away from the tiltyard, but not before shooting her a pointed glare over his shoulder. The flicker of fearful recognition that crosses her face is all he needs to know she understands exactly what’s required of her. Don't keep me waiting.

He is stripped of his garniture and reclining in his quarters in his undershirt and breeches when he hears the timid knock at his chamber door.

“Come in.” He instructs flatly.

She enters, head bowed, a look of shy apprehension crosses her features. He feels a swell of pride at her obedience, she’d come just as soon as she could, just like he wanted. Such a shame he’s going to have to punish her for her brazen display at the tourney.

She stands before him, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, waiting for him to speak. He lets her linger in silence for a few moments, enjoying watching her squirm with discomfort. When she finally dares to look up and meet his eye he speaks.

“Have you grown tired of our arrangement?” He asks coldly.

“N-no!” She stammers, stepping forward, her eyes pleading.

He holds up a hand to stop her and she freezes in place, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to articulate what it is that she wants to say.

“Have you forgotten who it is you belong to?” His gaze is piercing as he glares at her from where he is seated.

“Of course I haven’t.” Her voice is meek and apologetic.

“Then tell me, little one, why the fuck you thought it was acceptable to give your favour to that Lannister cunt?!” His voice raises in anger as he interrogates her, his grip on the arms of the chair causing his knuckles to turn white.

Her lip trembles and for a moment he is sure she will cry, until her jaw sets in bratty defiance. “I couldn’t very well say no, could I?!” She snaps back, face hot with her own fury. “What would you have me do instead? You insist upon keeping me a secret!”

Incensed with rage he reaches forward, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist and pulling her into his lap. “Don’t you ever talk back to me, fucking brat!”

She squeals as he manhandles her to straddle him, forcing her skirts above her hips and tearing away the gusset of her smallclothes, before unlacing his breeches.

“You need a reminder of who it is you answer to.” He threatens.

His hand moves between her legs and she whimpers, bucking against him. He hums appreciatively at how slick with arousal she is already. Wanton slut.

He pulls his hand away, spitting into his palm and then spreading it through her folds and over his cock. Lining himself up with her entrance, he thrusts upwards, pulling her harshly downward with a steadying hand on her hip.

The stretch feels impossibly tight around him and he groans at the sudden warmth and wetness, delighting in the way she gasps and clutches desperately at his shoulders.

“Not so eager to answer back now you’re stuffed full of my cock, are you?” He snarls, his grip on her hip tightens, using it to aid his movements up into her. His other hand moves to wrap around her throat, squeezing at the sides. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are wide, her face reddening from the restricted blood flow as she whimpers at the brutal pace he has set.

“You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” His fingertips press deeper into the flesh of her neck.

She does her best to nod, clenching around him as he continues to drive up into her over and over.

“Say it.” He hisses, brow furrowing with exertion, stones aching at the way she convulses with each movement.

“I-I am yours.” She stutters breathlessly.

“And could that Lannister twat fuck you like this?” He punctuates his question by tugging her harder and faster against him.

“Just you, only you…” The words tumble from her lips like a chant as her eyes grow glassy.

“Don’t look away.” Daemon orders in a husky whisper.

The only sounds in the room are their combined pants and the slap of flesh on flesh, until finally the heat of his climax licks along his spine and through his balls, he pulls her flush against him as he empties himself inside of her.

She collapses against him and he holds her to his chest as he recovers, stroking his hands softly up and down her back.

“You know,” He says, after a few minutes pass by in silence, “We needn’t keep this a secret forever. I could make you my wife.”

He feels her smile against the scarred flesh of his neck. “Are you saying you love me, Daemon Targaryen?”

He chuckles, delivering a playful swat to her backside. “Don’t push your luck.”

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #prince daemon targaryen #the rogue prince #daemon #daemon stannies #pro daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen fan fiction #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fan fic #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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empyreanwritings · 1 year

Text

Two is Better than One

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 921

Warnings: light smut, open relationship dynamics, nanami being a simp, jealous!gojo, she/her pronouns used, language (18+ only, Minors DNI)

Summary: You always get what you want - and tonight, you finally claim the man you've been craving.

“Does it hurt?” Nanami asks as he bends your foot back slightly. The action makes you hiss, but you don’t pull away. “It doesn’t seem broken. Just a bad sprain. Did you feel nauseous when it happened?”

You shake your head. “No. It just hurts like a bitch.”

“I told you not to dance like that in your heels.”

“But you liked watching me dance, didn’t you?”

Nanami is fully aware he is still holding onto your foot, and he can’t seem to let go. You slowly push it against his chest, allowing your knees to fall open as you move closer to the edge of the bed. His eyes drop only for a moment, but it’s enough to warm his face..

Of course, you’d be wearing those panties. The sheer black ones that let him see every inch of your pussy, and just along the hem is a sewn ‘S.’

The S is for Satoru.

It should make him want to turn away and deny your advances but it somehow makes him feel more alive. To know that you want Nanami? The only person Gojo would burn the world down for despite claiming not to be your boyfriend? It makes him swallow hard with anticipation. He can’t help it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs once he manages to snap his gaze back up to your face. “You’re only interested in me right now because Gojo bailed on you.”

You stick your lower lip out and whine. He’s tempted to crawl on top of you and bite it, but he stays in his spot.

“That’s not true,” you retort. “You know I’ve always wanted you. Want both of you–is that so wrong?”

Yes.

Nanami inhales.

No.

If he were a different man, and if you were a different woman, perhaps he would feel disgusted. But if you wanted him and thirty other men, he’d let you simply because he wants to see you glow.

Though, he supposes he’s thankful you only want Gojo and not thirty men.

He chooses not to answer you because you already know what he’d say. Instead, he places a kiss on the inside of your ankle and slowly moves his lips up. You whimper and whine as he caresses his lips up to your knee. Your entire body is on fire, and the way you’re squirming makes Nanami want more.

But he stops, and it only makes you pout more.

“Gojo doesn’t share,” he reminds you. His hand slips underneath your dress to trace along the threaded initial.

“Satoru doesn’t make the rules,” you breathe out. You lift your hips, hoping to get more of his touch, but he doesn’t budge; he just keeps tracing the small ‘S’ as if it were your neglected clit.

“Oh, he doesn’t?”

Nanami’s head snaps over to the man standing in the doorway. His face is neutral, but there’s a heat in his eyes that Nanami recognizes as his rage. Had Gojo’s bulge not been obvious as well, he might have thought this moment would spiral into a fight.

You barely react to his presence as if you knew he would show up eventually. You sit up on your elbows, and a familiar cat-like smirk spreads across your lips.

“Of course you don’t make the rules, Satoru,” you reply–purposefully trying to rile him up now.

Nanami’s hand has not moved from under your dress, but you make sure he can’t even try to pull away by pressing your palm against the top of it. Gojo’s gaze flickers down to your hands, and the corners of his lips twitch. Nanami has no idea if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

“And who does, princess?” Gojo stalks towards the two of you until he’s standing directly behind Nanami, where he kneels. His knees press against Nanami’s back, and he hates that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable.

In fact, during all of this, he has somehow grown more turned on than he previously was.

You hum. “I think we should let Nanami be in charge tonight, don’t you?”

Gojo leans forward and gently grips Nanami’s chin, forcing the man to look up at him. Nanami’s brain screams at him to fight it–he signed up to be with you, not Gojo. But the way Gojo’s long fingers grip onto his chin makes him lose his train of thought. He’s slipping down a path of “I don’t just want her; I want both” and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He chooses not to delve too deeply on that.

“Whaddya say, Kento?” Gojo teases, letting his thumb brush Nanami’s lower lip so casually. As if they are already lovers. “Should we give the princess what she wants?”

Of all the ways he expected this night to go, this wasn’t on the list. He wonders if this is something you two plotted; he certainly wouldn’t put it past either of you to do so. At this moment, though, he doesn’t care. He wants to give into all of his desires.

He wants to fuck you and make Gojo watch. He wants to have both of you bending to his will.

He can think about the consequences later.

“Yes,” he replies. Without breaking Gojo’s gaze, he pulls up the little ‘S’ until it’s several inches above you before letting it snap back against your soft skin. “We should give the princess what she needs.”

Gojo smiles when he hears you whimper. It’s almost feral but still charming. “Well, alright then.”

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #nanami smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanami kento x you #gojo satoru x you #nanami imagine #gojo imagine

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beautifulloverwitch · 11 months

Text

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter eleven: another visit.

Previous ///// Next

Summary: the search goes on for Rhaenyras missing daughter, but hopes begin to dwindle as many begin to believe a cruel face had paid a visit once more.

A/n: I have not revised this at all lmao, if there are any mistakes please overlook them for the time being<3

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 9k

Warnings: descriptions of death, abuse of power, death.

Masterlist

Cries echoed in the village as men, women and children were ripped away from their homes. Made to watch while their homes were ransacked, floorboards ripped out, and walls broken open. Outlaws herded together and brought in for questioning, their confessor being the fearsome, lean and red Caraxes.

Daemon stood at the centre of the village, his eyes flitting to each house, patiently waiting for someone to come forth. Daemon did not believe a reward of coin had sufficed, for as shiny and valuable it may have been, it was not worth more than one's only life.

He ignored the cries, and the curses thrown at him by man, woman and child.

His dark clothes weighed heavily with rain water, his feet sunk into the mud as he stood and watched. His hair wet around his tired and sharp face.

Glancing over his shoulder he hummed in satisfaction as he saw his Dragon gnaw away at another outlaw, he wondered to himself which one had this been? Rapist? Thief? Murderer? He scoffed at the thought, what did it matter? They were all the same to him. The sound of desperate pleads hit his ears, a sound he had grown to find annoying. He found solace in hearing the booming thunder overshadow the sounds of their cries.

Glancing to his left he saw a crazed woman trying to gain the guardsmen's attention, pleading them for help, on what matter, none of them had been interested in entertaining.

An uneasy knight carefully approached the scarily calm prince “have you found her?” he asked.

“No my prince, we’ve searched every home,” the knight reported, looking around himself, wondering how necessary this all was.

Daemons jaw ticked with impatience, this has gone on too long “then start searching their fucking heads before they start losing them,” he commanded.

The knight's eyes widened “We’ve tried,” he told “All of them have claimed to not even know what she looks like, terrorising them like this is unnecessary,” Daemon turned back to look at him, stepping away from his horse as he eyed the brave young knight “what's your name?”

“Ser Lance Beesbury, my prince,” he answered.

Daemon let out a hum of feigned amazement as he looked him up and down “how old are you?”

“Seven and ten my prince, I was knighted by the lord commander Westerling three months ago,” he said.

“I didn’t ask you that.”

He shook his head “you did not, my prince, forgive me,” the poor knight feared that he would meet his end at the hand of the rogue prince, so early on in his knighthood.

“A fresh knight,” Daemon mumbled to himself, “searching for my wife's missing daughter.”

Lance squirmed fearing to meet the end of Daemon's sharp sword, or his even sharper tongue.

“Ser Mychael!” Daemon called out, his eyes not leaving the face of the young knight.

“Why are knights without an ounce of experience searching for my step daughter?” he questioned, the approaching white cloak.

Mychael glanced towards the fear-struck boy, speaking in his defence “my prince, we need more men, so I gathered every knight new and old to help, without them we would not be able to fulfil such a search with the effort we have.”

Daemon hummed, unimpressed by the idea “no wonder this search has gone for so long,” he mumbled.

“My prince! The princess Rhaenyra requests that you join her in the painted room, you have guests,” A messenger told.

Daemon frowned “who?”

“Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

Daemons eyes widened, rushing to his horse as he grumbled “The fuck do they want?”

Lance watched the prince as he left, heaving out a breath he had not known he had been holding. He hissed as he earned himself a swat to the back of the head from his superior.

“First day here and your already on your way to Caraxes’s gullet?” Mychael chastised.

Lance stumbled back before being pulled forward, he kept a stiff lip in the face of his frustrated superior. He had not meant to have such a confrontation with the rogue prince, he came here to help that was all, not stir strife.

“I thought it best to explain to the prince-.”

“You explain nothing to the prince, you only listen!” Mychael harshly reminded.

Lance clenched his jaw to not speak, he would need to learn not to speak out of turn, a skill that had slipped his mind as he exhausted himself to be worthy of knighthood. His face flushed in humiliation as he saw two familiar knights heading his way, preparing himself for their remarks.

“I fear you may need to say that again Ser, I think the boy may be as slow as his father,” one of them advised, speaking of Lance as though he was not there.

Lance frowned at the insult made towards his father, as true as it may have been.

The other knight tore off Lance’s helm, pushing his hair away as he shouted in his ear “HE SAID YOU DON’T SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO!”

Lance shoved him away after taking back his helm, clutching his ear, he was with a head of unspecial light brown short hair, his pale blue eyes looked awake compared to his fathers tired ones, he was tall and muscular in stature for his age, from afar one would have perceived him a man three decades old before noticing the innocent gleam in his eyes, no wonder Harrold had decided to knight the boy, he oozed with promising potential.

Humfrey chuckled, taking a quick swig from his flask before looking towards Lorent, leaning against the frustrated Lance “shall we take to the ports Ser, I’m sure we’ll find a misplaced crate to present as a clue to the princess.”

Mychael gave him a pointed glare before sighing “No… I cannot have you be here when prince Daemon returns,” he said, glancing out towards the chaos before recalling the irritated concerns he had received from the people. He nodded towards the two dragonkeepers that were stood idly by, the younger of the two fearfully looking at the disrepair around him.

“I’ve heard word of dragons taking lambs from pastures,” Mychael said.

Humfrey frowned, puzzled as to why this was a problem “sheepstealer? They should be happy that the ugly cunt is sating his hunger with their sheep and not their lives.”

“But it isn’t Sheepstealer,” the younger Dragonkeeper quickly corrected, bowing his head beneath the knight's judging stare. He continued once Mychael had given him a sign to go on “all the large dragons have all sheltered in, they’ve already gathered their stock for the winter,” he explained before telling them “there has been a sighting of three baby dragons, black, red and green, small enough to catch, large enough to be a concern.”

The other knight interrupted, “this sounds like a problem for your lot to solve.”

“It is and you will all help them,” Mychael instructed, his eyes landing back on the quiet Lance “find them and bring them to the dragonmont.”

“Why not slay them?” Humfrey questioned, his hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword, seemingly excited.

Lorent arched his brow “Eager to be a dragonslayer ay?”

“All dragons belong to house Targaryen you half wit, even the wild ones,” Lance explained.

Mychael nodded “killing them costs you your head, catching them grants you a fortune of honours,” he frowned as he saw the reluctant looks on their faces “what appeals to you facing three baby dragons, or a dragon that doesn’t need flames to kill you?”

Their faces paled as they recalled the darkness that loomed about the unusually calm rogue prince, fearful of what small thing could trigger his fury to unleash.

“Ser Humfrey, I expect this to not be too much of a hassle for you,” Mychael asked, ignoring the look of disbelief from Lance.

“Him?!”

“Not at all Ser Mychael,” Humfreys answered, a smirk stretching across his thin lips as he relished in Lance’s outrage.

Mychaelleft, ignoring Lance's protests. Humfreys arm slung around his shoulder “you’ve much to learn little bee before you take charge of this hive.”

Lance shrugged his arm off, sneering at his now superior.

The other knight next to him chuckled as he cheekily asked “regretting your choices now aren’t ya lad?”

Lance sent the knight a pointed look, warning him not to prod and pick at the matter.

“Go polish your shields!” He commanded, laughing as he smacked the backsides of the two knights as they left before looking at the two unimpressed dragon keepers.

Rhaenyras fingers tapped over one another as they lay clasped on the table. Bloodshot eyes flitting across the ancient painted table, wondering what corner she had left unsearched. She was surrounded by commanders, members of her court, guardsmen, and her Maester, Gerardys. Twas another day of hearing their reports of what little progress they had made in their search.

Gerardys’s hand circled his wrist anxiously beneath his cloak “I’ve received word from the wardens in the west, and south and the lord of Storm's end…” he gulped before glancing over to Rhaenyra as she looked his way “they have all ceased their search for the princess.”

Rhaenyras lips tightened with contempt as she looked at the southern region of the painted table. Wondering if they had forgotten the cost of their stagnance.

One of the commanders glanced from the Maester and towards the distraught princess, searching for a reaction he would not find on her tense face.

“But I have received word from the north and the riverlands, they remain as eager as we are,” he quickly assured.

The commander fiddled with the handle of his sheathed sword, contemplating the right words to say as he stepped forward “Might I give my counsel on this matter your grace?”

Rhaenyra looked his way, expecting something useful to fall from his lips.

“It should be no surprise that many have begun to… halt their search for your sweet daughter,” he walked on the edge of danger as he spoke, his words pushing him over to the flames on the other side “for they know the harsh truth, that all here know as well,” he claimed, many began to shake their heads for none had agreed that he would be speaking on their behest “I would wager, that even you know but refuse to admit it,” he spoke, hoping to guide her gently to what he was to say next “this world is unkind to little girls, tis’ not possible that the princess Daenerys had avoided its cruelty.”

A dreadful silence fell upon the room, so silent you could almost hear the warning cracks of Rhaenyra’s fiery glare, her voice was eerily cold as she asked “are you tired Commander Irwin?”

His lips parted in surprise, stammering out his answer “no, I am not princess.”

“Your words tell me otherwise,” she said, before asking another question “do you think my daughter dead?”

The man gulped, glancing around him for help, but everyone seemed to have stepped away, he was alone in this dragon's den. He knew there was no right answer to that question but he needed to answer either way “Tis not an impossibility-.”

“So you’ve found her then?” she asked expectantly.

He shook his head, bewildered by this line of rapid questioning “no, I have not.”

“So you're proclaiming my daughter dead without a body to prove it,” tilting her head as she waited for his answer. Words of dragon fire tingling at the tip of her tongue as she stared at him.

“I… I-”

“You’re useless, I realise that now” she said, finishing for him the sentence he had yet to form. She was tired of his stammering, and angry for he had wasted valuable time “Commander Mervin, do find someone else to take your place, for you have been instated as first in command, know that your first assignment is to get Irwin out of my sights.”

Mervin’s widened eyes met with his once superior, surprise soon turned to pride. Nodding to the other guardsmen to help escort the protesting Irwin out of the hall.

“You can’t do this!” he cried out, he received no answer from Rhaenyra, who saw no use in entertaining these feeble attempts. He was fortunate for the restraint the princess had, if the rogue prince was present he would have needed to be replaced for different reasons.

Rhaenyra’s eyes passed over each face of the men in the room before cautioning them “should I hear another one of you proclaiming my daughter to be dead without evidence of it, know that I will have you walk yourself willingly to my dragon's gullet.”

“Princess!”

Rhaenyra looked towards the guard at the door “what is it?”

“The Sea Snake requests an audience with you, urgently,” he informed.

Rhaenyra sighed, she had delayed the audience with them so long,hoping that Daemon would show up already. In her defence, they had arrived uninvited, she was not aware of their coming presence.

With a wave she dismissed them, and they were quick to file out.

“Let them in,” Rhaenyra reluctantly told before returning her focus back to the painted table.

A thousand words stung the tongue of Rhaenys Targaryen as her gaze landed upon Rhaenyra. A wild fire burning around the reflection of the heir within her brown eyes.

Her mind still ached with sorrow but her heart burned with a rage, her house was humiliated and insulted before the realm. She was robbed of everything left that had been held dear to her once full heart, and even that had amounted to nothing to this world. In her years she has seen pigs treated with more respect than her children, whose memories had turned to ash with them. All because of their desires, all because of that greedy throne. Her eyes scoured Rhaenyra’s face for regret, for guilt, for something, she was irked to find nothing that she wanted. Only a face ailed by sleepless nights.

The seeds of their animosity began to sprout and quickly shaped into a twisted sapling, waiting to be nourished again, but they were old and wise enough to know to restrain it, to hide their disdain behind looks and remarks.

She did not tense beneath the weighty stares of her unexpected visitors.

Before they even had the chance to speak, the doors of the hall burst open and Daemon stomped his way in angrily, their intrusion was not a welcome one. He looked across the table where his wife was sitting, frowning as he saw her slumped and weak stature; he had spent these days in agony, watching her slowly cave in on herself with every passing moment without her daughter.

“What occasion grants you the right to invite yourselves here?” Daemon angrily questioned the stiff faced Corlys and Rhaenys, Standing tall beside the slumped Rhaenyra.

The seething Corlys spoke with an indifferent expression that did well to mask his anger “I admit it unseemly to come here without notice, especially at a time like this,” his judging eyes narrowed as they flitted over to Rhaenyra “but we have come here to take our granddaughter, if I recall correctly I have been promised to have her as my wifes ward.”

Daemon's face twisted with disbelief, his head so slightly reared back as he heard their words, a note of caution laced in his worryingly quiet voice as he spoke “I never said you would be taking her, we promised she would be sent to you, did we not?” he asked glancing at Rhaenyra for support, but she was not with them in this discussion, it had not involved the mention of her daughter, so what point was their to listen to them bicker?

He breathed in a heavy breath through his nose before turning to look at them again, slowly stepping towards them, a sly attempt at shielding his wife from being seen like this any longer, he doubted that the Velaryons were above spreading word of how pitiful the realms heir had looked especially with the grievances that had been stewing silently between them.

“That was more than two months prior to today,” Corlys pointed out angrily.

“If I recall, all my kin were still beneath the roof of this castle two months prior, were they not?” Daemon reminded.

Corlys let out a sharp sigh “We know of the predicament you are in, I worry for my granddaughter just as much as the two of you,” his eyes widened with anger at the short snigger that left the lips of the man in front of him.

“Had that been true you would have granted us your help, instead you’ve come to make demands of us,” Daemon told a slight twitch pulling down at the corner of his smirk.

Rhaenyra finally looked up from the table, towards the three, her red eyes landing on Corlys. For a second Rhaenys had begun to believe that she had nothing to do with her son's death, but she quickly concluded that Rhaenyra was arrogant enough to expect such services from the people she had hurt.

Quite the contrary, he had offered some help, upon receiving the news of her disappearance, he had his ports searched and informed every voyager that returned and left to keep a keen eye out for her, to him, that seemed to be the bare minimum he could have done as her apparent grandsire.

“I have not come here to argue,” Corlys was not pleased with the accusation as he tried to steer away from the matter “We have come all this way-.”

“For naught unfortunately,” Daemon interrupted “I do not know if news passed over your sorry island but your eldest granddaughter has gone missing and until I have Daenerys brought before me I will not have any of my children leaving my sights.”

“Do you really think it safe for your daughters to stay on the very island she went missing on?” Rhaenys spoke, cutting between them. The action startled Corlys, who retreated away from her as she stepped forward; they may have arrived together but the wall of tension between them kept them far apart, neither knowing how to tear it down gently.

Rhaenys spoke to the fear Daemon would never wish to admit “let them come with us,” she advised, reluctantly continuing as she glanced over towards Rhaenyra “all of them.”

Rhaenys did not want to take the boys, but she needed to make them think that she had believed this delusion if she had wanted to have her Granddaughters.

Rhaenyra ran her hands over her face before telling them “how thankful we are for your thoughtful offer, we will consider it duly… but not now,” she said, nodding towards Daemon “the children will be staying here, until Daenerys is brought home.”

Corlys breathed out, looking towards his jaded wife.

“I understand the journey was long,” Rhaenyra assured as she sat taller in her seat “I offer you both a place to stay here, til you have rested well enough to leave, and hopefully by then my daughter will have returned to me for us to fulfil our promise to you.”

The two arched their brow, they knew Rhaenyra wanted her daughter to be home sooner rather than later.

Rhaenyra gestured for a servant to come her way, informing him to have chambers befitting the lord of the tides and the princess prepared as soon as possible.

“Might I see my granddaughters?” Rhaenys abruptly requested once the servant had walked past.

Daemon eyed the woman suspiciously, before looking towards Rhaenyra, who had returned to the confines of her mind. He stared at Rhaenys and Corlys before walking past them muttering “follow,” as he guided them, he would not leave them alone with his daughters.

Rhaenyras tired eyes returned to the painted table, the urge to break it was strong. Waiting for it to grow a tongue and tell her where it had kept her daughter.

The large hall of the great sept sung a solemn song, candles fighting to stay alight within them this night. The loud sounds of raindrops hitting the stone walls of its structure blanketing the sounds of whispered prayers.

Green gown pooled on the floor behind where she was sat, hair tightly put up in a ring of braids crowning her bowed head,and fingers bare of any rings to adorn them. Her hands rested on the table, clasped so tightly that the crescents of her nails dented the skin of them. Lips muttering a prayer to the father, the mother, the warrior, the maiden, the smith and the crone. Every prayer contained the name of the missing princess.

She prayed to the mother for her protection, to keep the girl -where ever she was- in her gentle arms.

She prayed to the warrior, to brandish his sword and defend her from every danger that would come her way.

She prayed to the smith, to mend the girl a path for her to return home, and she prayed to the crone to guide her to that path.

She prayed that the maiden would keep her safe, to protect her innocence from wickedness.

And she prayed to the father, to forgive and forget the curses she had prayed befall Rhaenyra and her kin.

A shuddered breath left her lips as her eyes came open, glancing up towards the looming statue that stared down. Shrinking beneath its displeased gaze, clutching her cloak tightly around her shoulders as she made her way out.

She exited the sept grimacing as the rain hit her skin, ushered into the carriage by the loyal Ser Criston.

A sigh of relief passed through her lips as she settled into the small carriage. Prayers still echoing in her mind as she got further away from the great sept. She had hoped they would be met with a swift answer, that when she returns a letter would arrive from Dragonstone that the girl was somehow miraculously found.

The keep was quiet in anxious wait, waiting to hear what had become of the missing princess each passing day. None had dared stay in the king's presence too long, not even his council. For the first time many had begun to believe that he was once the rider of the legendary Black Dread Balerion.

He would spend much time in his chambers, running his fingers over his rings anxiously as he stared deeply into the fire of his hearth. He prayed that he would only see flame in that hearth.

How he worried for his daughter, fearing what grief she must be feeling. He was thankful that Daemon -as angry as he may have still been about their secret union- was at her side, he has never known a man to be as steadfast as him, not even Laenor.

The door to his chambers came open and he glanced over his shoulder to see whom it was.

“The hand, my king,” His Kingsguard informed.

Viserys grumbled, turning his attention back towards the hearth.

Otto strolled in standing beside the king’s chair, patiently awaiting the king's attention. Otto's face was not haunted by trepidation, he was one of the few who was able to get a good night's rest. He had his pity for Rhaenyra and the King, but he was not on tenterhooks waiting for her return. Decorating himself to be a patient man, for if he was ailed by their fears he would not be so effective in guiding this search.

“There best be a good reason for this late visit,” Viserys acknowledged.

Otto bowed his head to look down at the sitting King “I’ve received letters of apology from the lords Tyrell, Lannister and Baratheon,” he informed “they have ceased searching for princess Daenerys on their lands, but they pray for her swift return to princess Rhaenyra.”

Otto grimaced as he spoke those words, as indifferent as he may have seemed, he did take careful steps. He knew that this action by those houses would not be appreciated, and for it, the king would not hold them dear to heart. House Lannister was warm in Otto's pocket thanks to his diplomacy, in time he hoped the Tyrells would be as well. They were two of the wealthiest houses in the seven kingdoms, and if the king had the malice to even wish for it, he could change that with a quick wave of his hand.

Had Tyland mentioned word of it to him, he would have been quick to advise against it, for the sake of house Lannister.

A hot breath left the frustrated lips, clenching the ends of his chair.

Otto was quick to rush to their defence “they had searched every corner of their territory, your grace, not a stone was left unturned, not a port left unchecked, they’ve exhausted much of their resources and they’ve yet to prepare for the summer storm.”

Viserys’s eyes fell shut “my granddaughter has yet to be found, and they’ve already began to lounge away.”

“Your grace, you are first the realms king, before being the girl's grandsire,” Otto advised, patronisingly reminding Viserys, who had seemingly forgotten.

Viserys glared up at Otto before shaking his head and turning his attention back towards the flames.

“Leave me,” Viserys dismissed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his dry fingers.

Otto hummed, but did not bow his head in goodbye “the queen has just returned from the great Sept, she has finished her evening prayers for the princess,” he informed “Daenerys’s vanishing has saddened my daughters good heart, I can barely find her without a prayer falling from her lips.”

Viserys looked over at the ground where Otto stood.

“Neither she nor your children have known a moment of serenity,” a note of sorrow in Otto's voice as he tried to imagine a bit of sadness on the indifferent Aegons face.

Viserys sighed a sharp breath through his nose. Wondering to himself if they were well, he could only imagine how her disappearance must have been affecting them.

“I shall report to you their standing on the morrow,” Otto told dismissing himself.

His face returned to the same indiscernible expression as he made his way to Alicents chambers, where she and her children waited for her alive.

Alicent stared blankly on the table, the array of foods spread across it turning into a blur of colour as she sunk into her thoughts. Hands itching for a pen and quill to express her sympathies to Rhaenyra, her formal sympathies for all that existed amidst the strife between them was formality.

Aemond looked over at his mother worriedly, the only one amongst the table who seemed to care for her well being. He wanted to tell her how unnecessary it was, for her to worry so much, if it had not been so long since Daenerys had gone missing.

He thought that within the first week since her disappearance was announced she would have been found. Instead, weeks had passed and she was still missing. He would lay in his bed wondering where she could have gone, but soon, he began to wonder why she had ever disappeared.

Even though he had sworn to forget her, with her disappearance he could only think of her, and what they could have done to her. He knew her to only ever disappear when she was hurt, and how hurt she was decided how long she would be missing for. So he began to ponder, whenever she was stared at too long she would be gone for an hour, hating the discomfort of being a spectacle, she was smart enough to not have subtle insults slip past her ears, that would cause her to disappear for the rest of the day, and when Aegon had taken a blade to her hair she was gone for nearly two days, and even then she had not returned by her own volition. So he wondered, what horror had they done to her that would make her disappear for two weeks.

Otto entered the room and sat upon the chair he most commonly sat at, brushing Helaenas shoulder and giving her a warm smile. One that would have startled Alicent for it was not a sight she had seen even in her younger years had she noticed it.

“Prayer before we begin?” Otto asked Alicent, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes fluttered as she looked over towards him “Of course.”

They all rested their clasped hands upon the table, bowing their heads as Alicent led the prayer “may the mother smile down upon this supper with love, and may her warmth shroud Daenerys as she finds her way back home.”

The winds turned the rain into sharp needles, swiftly tearing through the air and upon the skin of the men's faces. Soaking their cloaks as soon as they had left their tents.

Humfrey tried to look through the thick rain, relying on the bolts of lightning that brightened the sky and ground. Trying to not lose sight of the two dragon keepers ahead of him.

Lance tried to observe his surroundings, hoping for some sign to show him that they were close to the Dragon Caves would appear, but to his dismay there was nothing. Only a thick mist of water droplets splashing up from the ground. He feared that a flood would soon ensue because of this downpour. He was the furthest behind, for in Humfrey's opinion he was still a baby bee, best he stayed at a safe distance. He was made to pull a cart of small dragon cages.

The young dragon keeper's voice shouted out to them “We’re nearly there!”

“What?!” Humfrey loudly asked.

“He said we’re nearly there!” Lance shouted, earning himself a sharp look he could not see from Humfrey.

The gaping dark pits protruding from the ground soon appeared from the mist. Prompting them to halt in their tracks, Humfrey asked the two dragon keepers “what now?!”

The elder of the two nodded for the young one to let go of the poor sheep. Letting it stroll about the stoney field around the caves.

Humfrey glanced behind him to the two knights that accompanied him, Thankful to see that they too were confused.

“They should come out when they catch scent of the sheep,” the young dragon keeper explained as he approached Humfrey “it is best we seek shelter, keep watch from afar.”

They frantically searched the field for a spot to wait in that had a clear view of the dragon caves. The knights had no doubt that they would succumb to a cold for how long they had been out in the rain.

Eventually, after an exchange of many yells of disagreement, they had found a large stone jutting from the ground, a suitable shelter for the short time they had hoped to spend there.

Humfrey was quick to claim the most sheltered spot, leaving the rest to huddle tightly together. Unfortunately, Lance was the last to reach them, sitting at the edge of the shelter, shuddering as he felt the water trickle down his back.

Humfrey smirked his way as he asked “not as glamorous as you thought, ain’t it little bee?”

Lance grumbled as he heard the vexing nickname.

Humfrey leaned back “what I would give for a warm bed, a warm cunt and a hot cup of tea sweetened with the finest honeys.”

“Can’t be that good, if our little bee so gladly left it all,” the other knight stated, sending a look of disdain towards the annoyed Lance.

Lances lip twisted to the side, restraining the urge to argue. Turning to look out on the field his eyes squinted as he searched for the wandering sheep, pitying the poor thing as it fought against the wind.

“Do you think they’ve any luck in the search?” the knight asked.

Lance arched his brow curiously, tilting his head their way.

Humfrey scoffed “I doubt it, we’re faring better than they are in a few hours when they’ve had two months,” proud to see them nodding in reluctant agreement with him.

An uncomfortable silence befell them, and all they could hear was the sound of the whooshing rain around them.

Lance stared out onto the field, frowning to himself “you think she's still alive?” he asked abruptly.

All of them had squirmed uncomfortably at the mention, in truth they were so used to Daemon's presence, hearing tellings of what he would do to those who dared even discuss the matter of her living or dead.

“You’d have to be daft to believe that true,” Humfrey answered quietly “at this point they’re hunting for a pile of bones.”

The knight beside him scoffed, shaking his head in pity for the missing girl's family “it’s best they spare themselves the grief and stop searching, better to think her still alive than find her dead.”

Lance glanced over her shoulder pondering their words, surprised by how true they were. He had seen the princess once, on her seventh name day, he saw how much she was adored by the king and her family, frowning as he imagined the grief they would feel if such a thing were true.

The frantic bleats of a sheep reached their ears and they all shot up from the ground, turning towards the crying sheep as it battled with a small dragon, struggling to latch its teeth onto the sheeps neck as it thrashed about.

Lance moved to get up only to be shoved down by Humfrey as he ran past him “Get the cart!” Humfrey yelled, grasping the hilt of his sword as he rushed towards the dragon.

Another dragon leapt down from the sky, small but significantly bigger than the first. The bigger dragon landed on the sheep's back, claws digging through its coat of wool, through to its pink flesh. Growling as it latched its teeth around the poor creatures neck. The sheep thrashed about a feeble attempt to break free. The dragon began to gnash and pull at the flesh of its neck, frustrated by the fight it put up.

The dragon's jaw was coated with bright red blood and saliva dripping down from it, it was hungry, thirsting to be sated by this fresh flesh.

The little dragon watched on, roaring out to the bigger dragon as it saw the sheep begin to succumb to its fate.

The bigger dragon continued to gnaw at its neck, spurts of blood shooting out from the sheeps open neck. A final attempt by its heart to encourage the poor thing to keep fighting, gone for naught.

The dragon finally let go of the creature's neck, shaking its head before looking credulously at the other dragon.

The little dragon gestured with its head back towards the caves, the bigger dragon following its gaze and croaking in answer, turning its attention back towards the carcass at its feet.

His flaws had dug deep enough into the sheeps skin for it to be confident that its food would not fall from its grasp. Beginning to beat its wide spanning wings and lifting itself and the carcass up into the air.

The little dragon spread its wings to join the other dragon but its attention was caught by the four men charging their way. Jumping back in fear of such a sight for it was not something it had seen before, a sorry roar passing its mouth as it tried to frighten them.

The dragon that took flight, snapped its neck towards the sound. The black of its eyes narrowed at the sight. He dropped to the ground, staring at the metal men running its way.

A familiar scent reached him, scrunching his snout for it was the smell of human flesh.

But there was a twinge of something unfamiliar, something unwelcome, they may have smelt of flesh but they were missing something else. That was enough for the fierce dragon to label them a threat. Hovering closely to the ground eying them all as they approached asking itself, which one?

Humfrey felt a thrill rush through him, seeing the two dragons still on the ground, unmoving. His hand grasping the hilt of his sword unknowingly.

They surrounded the dragons, the two dragon keepers approached the two beasts, speaking in their foreign tongue.

Humfrey would be annoyed had he not been so focused on the dragon's movements, waiting for a slip up, waiting for the right move that would lead to a great story and an even greater title.

The elder dragon keeper gestured for the young one beside him to step forth, seeing this as a great chance for the boy to learn. These were baby dragons, what could be so harmful about them?

The boy gulped nervously as he stepped forwards, his ears not missing the sound of the black dragons growls growing louder the closer he got.

“Gīda byka zaldrīzes,” he softly commanded.

That seemed to only make the dragon angrier, tilting its head at the gall, but it continued to wait.

The boy stepped closer, and was a few feet away from the beast's mouth, but he was close enough.

The dragon snapped forward, the sound of its teeth clashing together as it clamped its jaw down onto nothing.

The boy fell back, scrambling away from the dragon and towards the feet of the confused elder dragonkeeper.

In a flash, Humfrey removed his sword from its sheath and charged forward.

Everyone around him cried out for him to stand down, but he did not listen. Standing before the dragon and raising his sword above his head. From his perspective, he could not see the orange glow omitting from within the dragon's gullet.

As he moved to lower his blade upon the dragons back, a burst of fire came forth, bathing Humfreys front in a blaze that had him crying out in agony. The burst of flame did not stop, it kept flowing from the dragons mouth until Humfrey fell back onto the ground. Writhing on the wet ground as he attempted to pry off the armour that had begun to melt to his flesh.

The dragon roared once more, keeping away the knight who tried to come to Humfrey’s aid. The dragon turned away climbing on the carcass and latching its claws into its body before taking flight, closely followed by the reluctant little dragon, who glanced behind it and back towards the group of men before taking after him.

Lance watched on in horror at what had unfolded, dropping the cart and rushing to the man patting down every region of his body frantically, too frightened to realise the damage that had already been done.

“GET OFF! GET OFF OF ME!” he cried out.

Lance’s brow furrowed in worry for him, he glanced back to where the dragons flew off to and was surprised to see them flying so close to the ground. He stood up from beside Humfrey instructing the knight “get him back to the castle!”

“How?” the knight asked, grimacing as he heard Humfrey cry out for him to get away.

Lance yelled as he turned “figure it out!”

Lance chased after the dragons, with no desire to confront them of course, he was not stupid, but he thought it best he knew where the dragons were going to come back with a greater amount of men. He could not have imagined such a reaction to come from a young dragon, he had heard stories of larger dragons attacking, but never had he heard of baby dragons' fury.

As he reached the edge of a cave he gasped and dropped behind a rock as he saw all three dragons together. Narrowing his eyes to get a clearer look of the three.

The largest of them was a pitch black, its darkness absorbed the light that hit its body. Like an untethered shadow. The second was a dragon of iridescent green, the loudest of the three and most regal, its eyes a stark yellow. The last was a far smaller dragon, the size of a pup. His eyes were a beautiful ocean blue and skin was a red of the softest hue, one that was painful to the eye, its behaviour possessed dare Lance say it, an innocence.

In awe of the sight his hand slipped against the wet stone and he fell to his knees, the sound of his armour scraping against itself alerting the three creatures.

The black dragon's fearsome demeanour returned as it prowled towards Lance, the small beasty was considerate enough to give the man a string of warning roars.

Lance raised his hands up, showing that he was without a weapon, and hoped that it was not blinded by its hunger to understand that Lance was no threat.

The green dragon seemed to call out to its black companion, a discussion between them that Lance was puzzled by but was hopeful for it to be in his favour. As he moved to adjust his footing, the black dragons attention quickly snapped back to him, eyes demanding the man stay still in his place.

Lance could have sworn he could see small wisps of steam passing from the corners of its mouth.

Lance stilled “I just want to leave,” he told, as though the dragon could understand. He moved around the dragon slowly, thankful that it was too busy roaring back at its two companions to focus on the man before him.

He knew of a safe path back to the castle that led up the shore, before he had decided to leave the comfort of Honeywine and vibrance of the red keep he had indulged all the books regarding warfare, knighthood, and history, most importantly he had poured over the schematic filled parchments, for he had no desire to be lost on the first day of the job. His access to knowledge was the one thing he appreciated most from his privileged upbringing.

He was careful as he stepped over the stones that littered the ground, wincing at every misstep that had made too much noise for comfort.

One stone he had stepped over was rather odd, it crumbled beneath his feet so quickly.

He frowned as he heard the crumble and glanced down in horror as he realised what he had stepped on.

At first it blended into the scorched ground from afar it would have been mistaken for a line of small rocks on the ground. Upon closer inspection it was revealed to be something terrible.

a hollow pit of darkness stared up at him, darkened flesh still attached in ashened patches scattered all over, the rain seemingly had managed to wash most of it away, turning some of it to a sludge carried towards the shore. Body curled into a foetal position, left leg having crumbled beneath the man's foot, mouth agape leaving Lance to imagine the rasps of distress that once fell from it.

A flash of lightning reflected from something clutched in the corpses ashened hands. He knelt down beside it, careful not to step on another fragile limb. Bringing himself closer to get a better look without having to pry it away from the small corpse's hands.

His eyes widened as he reared back realising the figure that hugged the blade's handle.

It was a seahorse.

The handles once sea blue base burnt away revealing the metal beneath, no longer were its surfaces smooth but they were marred with patches of bubbles and melted metal. What remained of it was enough for him to recognise that such a dagger was not crafted by any smith, this had surely belonged to a noble. One of house Velaryon.

A shrill roar made him look away from the body as he began to dread who it had belonged to.

The pale red dragon had made its way towards him trying to catch his attention. Once it had gained it, it turned to face the cave and looked back towards the man, a gesture for him to follow the small dragon.

Lance was too lost in his own mind to understand what it had meant. He glanced back towards the body, eyes looking over it, noticing how small it was, how fair it was to assume who it had belonged to.

“Ser Lance!” a familiar voice called out.

He looked up to where it had come from, five knights led by Ser Mychael headed his way.

The dragons grew fearful but the little one did not seize its urging. The green dragon had seen enough, and knew it was time they left. Teeth lightly grabbing at the smaller dragons tail, pulling it back to the cave.

The largest of the free leapt forth and bellowed a wall of fire around the caves entrance, an attempt to ward them off. An action not appreciated by the red dragon.

The men drew their swords and shields and surrounded the dragons shielded by their wall of flame.

The water hitting the hot stone quickly turned to a thick steam. The dragons wisely took this valuable opportunity, fleeing to escape, disappearing into the inky depths of the cave.

Lance slowly looked back down away from where they had disappeared, returning his gaze to the charred corpse at his knees. His face, a mask of horror and disbelief, most of all fear.

Mychael noticed this, following the boy's gaze, and soon, the same mask fell upon his aged face.

The rest of the knights circled the body, staring down in horror, not for disbelief and disgust at what had happened to what they assumed was a poor child, but the terrible omen behind it, the terrible promise of a wrath unimaginable.

“It's her…” Lance whimpered, his arms limp at his sides as he stared at the remains.

Mychael gulped “how do you know?”

Lance sniffled, his hands gentle as he pointed at the clutched blade.

Mychael knelt down and soon a sombre look marred his face, deep lines lining between his brows and at the corners of his downturned lips.

A fearful knight frantically suggested “we needn’t do this, we could let the search continue, they do not need to know.”

“Let them go on thinking her alive Ser, give them that mercy!” the other pleaded, in agreement with the first knight.

Lance looked at them in disbelief.

Mychael sounded a rumbling hum from deep within his chest as though he was pondering it. Lance looked towards the man, awe struck by how long his answer had taken.

“Are you sure that this would be a mercy to them or to you, a litter of cravens?” he rhetorically asked, his eyes not leaving the body of the child.

They fell silent, but squirmed in fear as they imagined the fire that would soon hit their skin once they’d presented the dead dragonling to its mother.

“Go to your tents, go to your rooms, and rest, sleep well knowing yourselves safe,” Mychael told, pulling his wet cloak from his back, laying it on the ground “but let your cowardice burn itself into your minds, and may it remind you that the title you wear of Ser, of Knight, of protector, is made of a sheep's coat and not worn like a lion's mane,” he was gentle as he slid the body carefully upon his cloak “what dishonour you bring, what a stain you all are.”��

His last words before he stood, cradling the body in his arms, marching with a stiff lip and steely eyes to the dragon's den

Lance arose from the ground paying no glance to the sulking cravens that surrounded him and instead tailed after the man.

Mychael stilled in his steps turning to face the solemn boy “do my commands always pass through to the otherside of your ear?” he questioned.

Lance attempted to match the mans face, but there was the smallest hint of fear in his young eyes “I found her, tis I who should be seeing it to its end.”

“You expect an award?” Mychael asked.

“I expect a duty fulfilled, that ends with no gratitude.”

The man stared at the boy stepping forth towards him “know this is your next duty boy, rest.”

“You can’t.”

“You will.”

Lance's eyes flickered between the man's eyes, outraged by how he was addressed. He was no boy, he was a man grown, he was a knight, a knight that fulfilled his duty, a duty that led to anguish but he had fulfilled it nonetheless.

“Rest,” Mychael commanded before turning his back and continuing his solemn march. His breaths turned shallow as he grew closer to the almost villainous looking castle.

He readied his mind and his heart, so that they would be prepared to greet the strangers fury with grace.

Lance watched dejectedly as the man walked away. Turning behind him to see that all the other knights had dispersed, not questioning the command. He had wondered if Mychaels words had done anything to them. He frowned as he saw the same pale red dragon emerged from the inky cave again, crying out to him, urging him in a tongue he could not understand.

He tiredly looked at the small creature, exhaustion wrapping its limbs around his stiff body, and guiding him away from the terrible scene, which he knew would haunt him, he knew it would forever haunt him.

His first duty had ended with expected anguish.

Cries of agony echoed through the castle of dragonstone, the empty and quiet halls carrying the sound throughout the structure, waking its uneasy inhabitants.

Rhaenyra's eyes flew open at the sound, rising from her bed as quick as the flash of lightning that shone from outside her window. Angry at the interruption, for she worked behind closed eyes to shape her daughter's face, the face she had begun to forget. Her eyes were a blur of purple, her head a blur of brown, and her face devoid of detail.

Daemon arose from the chaise by the fire, alarmed by the sound, rushing for his sword and leaving the room without a word.

Rhaenyra stared at the upon door, curious by what was beyond it.

‘Has she returned, as my sweet girl returned?’ she asked the world, knowing that its answer lies behind those doors.

She rushed to grab her robe, slinging it around her shoulders, briskly sliding her arms through the sleeves and tying it painfully tight around her waist. The pain did not matter for the excitement quickly subsided as her feet carried her swiftly down the halls and towards the painted room.

Her mind raced as she wondered to herself, would she find her daughter well? Was she injured? Mayhaps she was starving. Was she afraid? Would she charge to her mother and fall into her arms, a safe embrace that Rhaenyra promised to offer all her children no matter what.

Her footsteps stilled at the sound of a familiar grunt, and the sound of a terrible squelch. The hall was empty, likely having all gathered into the painted room, their shouts and pleas proving her right as she heard them come from the rooms open doors.An orange glow omitting from the firelit chamber, cutting through the cold shadows of the hallway.

She began to move slowly towards the room, rounding its corner, eyes widening as she saw her husband straddling a man's body, one hand around the man's neck and the other tightly gripping the man's helm.

The once silver helmet was coated red, its curves flicking out the blood that had pooled into them with every quick raise before being brought back down upon the gaping red hole where the man's face should have been. All that was left of it was a mess of flesh, muscle, blood, and skull fragments, all scattered across the floor.

She stood at the centre of the doorway watching Daemon as he unpromptedly bestowed his wrath upon the poor man. Corlys and many other guards urging him off the already dead man, but careful enough to not be within the reach of the thrashing wormy limbs of his fury.

All sound seemed to fade from her ears as she saw a black mound resting on the table. Her tired eyes had made it look like a black blob from afar, a pile of soot.

As her feet brought her closer towards it, detail began to form from the dark mound, the same details she had fought to retain as she tried to remember her daughter's face.

Soon the mound had a bony foot, missing a two toes, that foot then connected to leg, with ashened and shrunken flesh that latched around the charred bones of its thigh, the beginning of the femur loosely attached to a pelvis, that then joined to a small cage of ribs and a short rod of spine, barely held together by the skin of the shrunken flesh covering the remainder of the body.

And lastly.

A head.

A small skull to be more correct.

Detached from the spine.

Its base against the curved shoulder its body rested on.

A thin layer of black flesh hugging the eye canals, disappearing from the cheeks.

Jaw loose from its place, hung open.

Rhaenyra stared at it for a moment before pushing away the horror, the dread, the fear, and worst of all the anguish, the grief, a grief she prayed not to feel, not ever.

The eyes of the hall stared at her, Daemon seized his assault as he looked at Rhaenyra with blood splattered across his face. He was overwhelmed by failure, by defeat, he broke his promise to her, his oath to her.

Rhaenyra could feel their gazes bore into her, how they waited for her reaction.

She sniffled, not realising the heavy tears that slipped down her cheeks as she turned to look at them, her face eerily credulous but her eyes a pool of hot anguish waiting to burst forth.

“Who is this?” she asked, her heart feigning her naivety, forcing her mind to submission as it refused to admit who was laid before her.

None dared speak, standing in silence as they watched her, flinching at every subtle movement she had made. Her hands rested over her rounding belly, bruising the lengths of her fingers as she twisted them harshly.

The brave Corlys stepped forth in his hands a dagger resting within them.

“Tis with a heavy heart I tell you this Princess,” he gently spoke, staring at the dagger in his hands, hiding the sheen of tears on his eyes as he stared at the familiar object “know that my house sends its greatest sympathies good daughter.”

Rhaenyra kept her credulousness, but her eyes screamed a warning to him.

With a heavy heart he spoke the words none else dared say, words that sent waves of dread rolling through those who only heard it.

“Tis your sweet daughter Daenerys, she has been found.”

Taglist: @takemetotheweirdness @grungegrrrl @paininmyasgard @deadunicorn159

#House of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #aegon targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #dragons #helaena targaryen #hotd #Rhaenyra Targaryen #daemon targaryen #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #aemond targaryen x reader

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hellsbarnes · 2 years

Note

thotty thursday - soft!chris evans x reader

୨ 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮 ₊˚ପ⊹ 𝙘.𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙨 ୧

pairing: soft!chris evans x fem!reader

summary: soft!chris is the best

warnings: nsfw, 18+, mdni, p in v sex, creampie, fluffy as heck (please do not read if you're uncomfortable)

word count: 612

author's note: welcome to my third fic for this week's thotty thursday, i hope you enjoy it and please remember to reblog, thank you!

Chris Evans was probably the softest man alive, yeah sure; he was built like a tree trunk with a body that looked like it had been sculpted by gods, blue eyes could make anyone melt and a smile to match, but that couldn’t change the fact that your fiancé was the most cuddly, huggable person.

He would always take the chance to plant kisses on your forehead before leaves for his morning jog, or your cheeks whenever he hugs you from behind, his arms pulling you towards his frame or when the both of you were cuddled under your blanket, watching Disney movies that the both of you love so much.

Especially the little mermaid, just because Chris loved singing along and you loved it when he does, proves that grown men can love Disney too.

Then, there were the times when Chris would ever so softly capture your lips in his, your eyes fluttering shut as his large hand gently cupped your face as he leans in closer, deepening the kiss, oh, it would always make your heart race whenever the both of you kiss, it was always tender and loving, and as cliché as it sounded, it felt like the world has faded away and it was just you and Chris.

Make out sessions were the best, you two would be cuddling, Chris loved being the small spoon though he probably would never let you say that, when Chris would kiss you, both your lips moving in sync.

Chris would wrap an arm around you, pulling you close to his warmth, holding you as he presses gentle open mouthed kisses on your neck, you would sometimes giggle because his beard tickles, and it would always make Chris chuckle and he would move his head just to see you squirm because honestly, he loves your laugh, when you laugh, he laughs and when you smile, he does the same.

“I thought you liked my beard,”

“I do hot stuff,”

“So, I’m hot now huh?”

“You were always hot.”

Then there were the times where Chris would press butterfly kisses down your shoulders, moaning as you straddle him, your eyes close as your fingers knotted through his hair.

“You’re perfect,” Chris would say against your skin, making you giggle lightly.

“No one’s perfect,”

“You are, you’re smart, kind, gorgeous,”. He would say between kisses, kisses that led right back up to your lips, capturing them in his as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, almost as if he was afraid that he would open his eyes to see you gone.

“You’re my everything, you know that?” Chris said against your lips, and you couldn’t stop the small smile that spread across your face.

“You’re exaggerating.” You would reply and Chris would mumble a no.

“I'm not, don’t know what I’d do without you baby,”

Chris making love to you was in a word, perfect. He would plant soft kisses on your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he thrust into your heat.

His fingers laced with yours as he pressed you into the bed, his frame above you as you wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, pulling him closer to you.

“So close,” Chris groans, your walls tightening around him was all it takes for him to come undone, spilling his seed into you, the both of you breathless and panting, coming down from high.

Chris was ironically the perfect one, there was never a time where he would reject you or your extremely comfortable cuddles, he was gentle with you, caring and most importantly, he loved all of you with his entire heart.

note: this is the third thotty thursday fic, thank you so much for reading and please remember to reblog, thank you love!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙙𝙖𝙮

755 notes · View notes

cowboyfromh3ll · 7 months

Note

AHHHH FANTASTIC!!!!!!

okay so , I'll just send one for kieran.. I LOVE SEEING OTHeR PEOPLE WRITE FOR HIM BECAUSE I DO SO MUCH :) <3

so for a request, maybe it's after kieran gets off the tree, and the reader (either gender neutral or fem but its up to you! <3) notices he has a slight limp and he complains about his back hurting a bunch, so the reader is like

"well why don't you come to my tent tonight and i'll help you out?" and kieran (reluctantly) agrees , and supposedly he's just getting a back massage

so in the evening he goes to readers tent, they/she has a lantern and a bottle of oil and shes like "go on and take off your shirt", SEEMINGLY innocently (and it'd be better tbh if they/she didn't ACTUALLY have any intentions)

so he does and they start giving him a back massage, maybe straddling the back of his thighs as they do so and at first its quiet, and it feels SO. SO good and kieran moans by accident

and, they're like.. 😳 okay.. but they keep going and say nothing , and things start getting a bit more tense when he keeps moaning and reader feels him squirm and sees him trying to rut his hips into their cot ..

... and things get.. spicy...

THIS IS DEF NOT SELF INDULGENT AND I HOPE ITS NOT TOO MUCH!!!! I HOPE ITS OKAY TO ASK FOR THIS ITS TOTALLY OKAY IF NOT BUT PLEASE I'D LOVE TO SEE THIS AND YOU'RE WRITING IS AMAZING !!! TAKE YOUR TIME <333333 :(

Heaven Is A Bedroom

(Kieran Duffy x Fem!Reader Smut)

I didn't edit this 🖤

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Kieran was broken for good, though the weepy, petulant state he occupied for the first few weeks after being tied to the tree did thankfully fade. He’d been starved and humiliated, something you never partook in, but you did occasionally go and chat with him, offering him any food you did have. Admittedly, you had harbored disdain for Kieran initially, looking down on him for his status as an O’Driscoll, but it was only after seeing how pathetic of a state the man truly was in that you began pitying him. Even if others were around to watch you, you would unabashedly go over and clean Kieran up, spoon feeding him what you could, and talking to him about mundane little topics. You also hadn’t been shy about telling anyone who chastised you to fuck off, arguing that you were grown and could do what you wanted. Kieran himself had been hesitant to accept your services, who could blame him, but seeing how you were so passionate about doing it, and how he didn’t have many options, he took what he could from you.

You watched on in slight amusement as Bill terrorized Kieran, a burgeoning sense of annoyance rising in you when you saw him with glowing red shears in his hand. If it were anyone else, you would’ve swatted their hands away, but you did not want to deal with Bill. You couldn’t help but gasp and ogle when they forced Kieran’s pants down. Part of you wanted to yell at them to stop, another part of you wanted to laugh at just how unfortunate the situation was. It seemed as though every time Kieran’s pain and suffering reached its crescendo, it somehow managed to reach infinite more peaks. You dare not look at Kieran for too long, granting him some sort of dignity.

In a matter of minutes, Kieran had managed to find himself relieved from his restraints, being untied so he could lead a few of the men to who knows where. You watched on in vague interest, relieved he had managed to rid the camp of a few of the men. ‘If only he had taken Micah with him’ you thought. Besides your own catty thoughts, you made a mental note of Kieran’s limp. You smiled in excitement at the opening that presented itself to you. Offering a massage to Kieran might be another act of kindness you could grant him, helping him feel more at home. Perhaps Kieran’s hearty reserves of suffering made him pliable enough to accept such an invitation.

After their return to camp, you had been one of the first to hear from Arthur about Kieran’s brave act in saving him. Rather heroic for someone so callus he claimed. The story was quite delightful, certainly affirming the fact that he was deserving of a massage. A prize for such a victory you thought.

“Hey Kieran.” You approached him with a cup of coffee in hand. The way he turned to look at you was akin to a child being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to do, even though he was only brushing the horses.

“Oh, hey, (Name).” His voice cracked with nervous inflection. That same timid pronunciation that made you feel a sense of endearment for him.

“I heard about what you did today.” You smiled while taking a sip of your coffee. “Real brave of ya, saving the life of the camp’s big, strong man.” You giggled, motioning over towards Arthur.

“Yeah well, I feel like if I didn’t then Bill or John would’ve thought I was the one who killed Arthur then killed me…” He said sheepishly. The two of you stood there awkwardly, processing the morbid implications of his remark. Kieran wanted to slap himself.

“But uh, I managed to gain my freedom! In a way, even though I’m not allowed outside of camp, at least I’m not tied to that tree anymore. They almost let me go entirely, but I had to argue with ‘em a bit…” You nodded in understanding. Kieran was right, a decent point of contention was the fact that he saved Arthur’s life. And was riding with the gang not more freeing than the gripping fear of looming death by Colm O’Driscoll himself had he not continued to stay with the gang?

“Well I noticed you were limping there.” You pointed out his awkward gait, circling your finger as you looked at his legs.

“Yeah well, being tied to a tree ain’t too comfortable. My back hurts real bad.” Kieran stretched, and as if on cue, his back cracked painfully loud, causing you to wince.

“Well if you’d like, I can give you a massage.”

The forwardness of your request caused Kieran to choke on his own spit, and you watched on in concern as he gripped his chest, doubling over as he tried to gather himself. His face flushed so hard you thought something might rupture if any more blood arrived.

“If you’d like of course… you don’t gotta… accept.”

“No! No, I mean, I’d appreciate it very much, yes.” He interjected, nodding overzealously. You smiled in satisfaction, nodding to yourself.

“Alright then! I’ll see you in my tent tonight.”

If anyone were around you and heard that sentence they might have thought you were inviting Kieran to sleep with you. Kieran seemed to have had the same thought when he realized how suggestive the invitation sounded, but he did not want to pop your bubble of obliviousness. Nor did he think that’s what you were suggesting anyways. Kieran was at least given something to look forward to that night.

Upon his arrival to your tent, he might as well have been greeted by you stark naked. Because in seeing the low light of the singular oil lamp and the bottle of oil, his mind went straight to the gutter. Though your enthusiasm to help overrode any sensual thoughts he might’ve had. Your wide smile and rosy cheeks looked far too innocent to be entertaining such thoughts.

“Hey Kieran!” You greeted, patting the cot next to you. You rested on your knees, waiting for Kieran to make himself comfortable. He continued to stand at the flaps of your tent in consideration, giving this whole ordeal a second thought. He definitely wanted it, but he had never had this done to him before; he simply didn’t want to embarrass himself. Adding to that, what if this whole proposition was part of some twisted, elaborate prank you had set up with a few of the others to embarrass him.

“Get in here already!” You ushered, dragging him in by the arm, effectively leaving any doubts he had outside the tent. He laughed dryly to himself, feeling his muscles tense up even more. He stood there awkwardly, as if he were instructed to carry out a bank robbery and was sent in without a single instruction; he didn’t know what to do.

“Take off your shirt.” You instructed, opening the bottle of oil and rubbing it on your hands. The glowing light from the lamp gave your hands an orange glow. The instruction caused Kieran’s mind to go to the gutter once again. Shakily, he began unbuttoning the front of his shirt, his eyes darting from his shirt then to you with each button he undid. As more of his torso was revealed, he began to fidget uncomfortably. He felt your eyes boring through his torso as he slid his shirt off hesitantly. After weeks of malnourishment, he had suddenly become incredibly self conscious of his body. He looked back up at you once again and felt a small sense of relief when he saw your smile.

“Alright, now lay down.” You patted the cot once again and moved aside to make room for him to climb on. He grunted as he adjusted himself, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding when he relaxed his limbs and released his full weight onto the cot. His muscles went rigid when he felt you move onto his back, straddling the back of his thighs and putting your body weight on him.

He pushed himself up with his forearms frantically, looking back at you.

“W-W-Wait what are you doing?!” He swallowed hard, beginning to tremble. He felt as though you might call Bill or Arthur in any second now.

“I’m just getting into position! Relax…” Kieran’s eyes widened when your slipper hands slid onto his shoulders, giving them a squeeze before gently pushing his chest back against the cot again. You realized how much he was trembling, pursing your lips when you realized how much work you had to do.

“Alright…” He tried to relax for you, putting his arms to his side, a gesture of vulnerability that was a milestone for him. He heard you giggle to yourself above him, blowing hot air onto your hands before touching his shoulders once again. You dug your digits into the knots in his shoulders, pressing in circular motions. It took everything in Kieran to not unleash the most embarrassing sounds of his lives.

The massage was undeniably good. You’d first worked on his shoulders, alternating between cupping one of your hands in a c shape and dragging along his traps, to using your thumbs to dig into the muscles. You grimaced when you felt the knots shift beneath your fingers, admittedly becoming a little squeamish. Sometimes you’d even go in with your elbow.

“You’re real tense.” You’d comment, to which he laughed bashfully. “Yeah…”

You reached for the bottle of oil next to your foot, leaning down before unscrewing it and pouring more into your hand. Some of the thick liquid seeped through your fingers and dripped onto Kieran’s lower back, to which he would arch his stomach off the cot momentarily. Your hands traveled from his shoulders down along his dorsi, where you’d form your hands into knuckles and dug them in, dragging them along the muscle. Kieran would let out the occasional curse or hiss, to which you’d both laugh at. But when you began massaging a particularly sore spot, he let out an incipient moan.

You froze; Kieran felt you freeze. You both sat there in a mortified silence as you let the awkwardness from what you’d just heard settle in. You let out a pithy laugh to try and cut the tension, feeling just how rigid Kieran’s thighs had gotten under you.

“You uh, must be really enjoying yourself.” You joked stiffly.

“Yeah…” Was all he could say in return; he sounded incredibly strained.

You continued to massage him in silence, grunting occasionally as you put your weight into working his muscles loose. He let out a few more squeaks and groans out, and eventually you felt Kieran shift under you, and you almost wanted to chastise him and tell him to stay still, when you realized he was rutting into your cot.

You retracted your hands, making varying facial expressions until your jaw opened slightly, eyes widening. He was grinding into your cot. You realized what he was trying to do. You slid off his thighs, confusing him. He looked back at you confused, hoisting himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“What happened?” He asked. Though he wasn’t completely oblivious as to your reasoning. A sense of depreciation began to spread through his shoulders like a cold wind; had he completely weirded you out by moaning. He felt his stomach turn when he saw you sit before him on the ground next to the cot, looking at the ground as you tried to find your words. You eventually found it in yourself to look up at him, opening your mouth to speak, though it would be a moment before you actually said anything.

“Do you… want me to touch you?” You asked.

Kieran laid there and stared at you, bewildered. Did you mean what he thought you meant? Touch how? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to sound dumb. Perhaps you just meant keep touching him, as in a massage, but it had already been established that you were allowed to. He turned on the cot to better face you, forgetting himself momentarily and revealing his erection to you. Your eyes moved towards it and remained on it, indicating what you truly meant to Kieran. His breaths became shaky with apprehensiveness as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Slowly he nodded, unable to get the words out. There was an underlying sense of adolescence in the way the two of you were so nervous. Kieran sat up and leaned his back against the tent, scooting over slightly to the left to allow you room to sit next to him. You both carried yourself with uneasiness, not sure how to proceed and move this moment along.

“Uh…can I…?” You trailed off, making an unbuttoning motion with your hand before pointing at his pants. He stared at you before nodding, suddenly feeling his throat become dry. With shaky hands, you undid the front of his jeans, pushing them open before sliding your hand in. Your fingers combed through his pubic hair before you felt his appendage, pausing and giving yourself a mental pep talk before gripping his base. You pulled his cock out slowly, revealing it to yourself. The dim lighting of the tent made it difficult to see clearly, yet you could see his glistening tip when you tugged on his cock. Kieran was sucking in shaky breaths as you studied it, feeling a wave of self consciousness as you kept looking.

“Oh!” You suddenly pulled away, exclaiming excitedly. You reached for the bottle of oil, uncorking it before splashing some more onto your hands carelessly. In your haste, your nightgown staining with the liquid, a problem you would worry about later. He suddenly felt all the more excited watching you lather your hands in the oil, the light shining on them to make them appear waxy and slick. Carefully, you picked up his cock again and slowly slid your hand down his length, reveling in the wanton groan he let out. He threw his head back before lolling it to the side.

“Don’t be too loud…” You hushed. “We don’t wanna get found out!”

The very idea of people knowing caused a shudder to rack through Kieran. He could already imagine the weeks of teasing he’d have to endure. All the terrible phrases and words that would be tossed around. Not to mention, you’d also probably be on the receiving end of some bullying as well. You began stroking his cock, a consistent slick sound becoming distinct with each pump of your hand. You bit your bottom lip in concentration, using the pitch and volume of his moans to pick up on what you should and shouldn’t do. Soon enough, his erection was glistening with a mix of pre cum and oil. You laughed breathlessly, giddy that you were doing this right now.

Excitement replaced apprehension as the two of you continued, and you subsequently allowed Kieran to pull your nightgown off. It took some convincing on your behalf, insisting he was allowed to look and touch, but he eventually worked up the courage to do it. He looked from your breasts back at you as if asking for permission. You nodded with a smile, beckoning his touch. He trembled as he cupped your breasts, seemingly fascinated by the soft globes of flesh in his hands, particularly the feeling of your hardening nipples poking into his palm. He forgot about his erection, insteading focusing on touching you now. His hands slid down your sides, tickling you and making you squirm.

“I’m ticklish…” You chided playfully, grabbing his wrists. Your face lit up to indicate you had another idea, and you reached for the bottle of oil again. You demanded Kieran show his hands so that you could pour oil on them, doing him the favor of rubbing the substance in.

“Rub me all over.” You raised your brows and moved your shoulders side to side playfully, your breasts moving in tandem. More confidently this time, Kieran ran his hands over your, stopping to squeeze your breasts before traveling down towards your hips. He repeated this in circular motions, properly oiling you up. You squirmed and gasped, half from pleasure and half from feeling ticklish.

Without warning, you got up and removed your bloomers, the only article of clothing you were left wearing. Kieran gasped in surprise, not sure himself how far this was going to get. He supposed he got his answer. You stopped and turned to look at him before stepping out of them.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

“Oh, I didn’t know we’d be…” He trailed off, still unsure about the implications. You looked down at your feet, realizing your brashness.

“Oh…We don’t have to if you don't want to!” You reassured, making a motion to pull your bloomers back on. You felt a tinge of embarrassment; perhaps you had also misread the situation?

“No no, I want to…” He nodded and cleared his throat. “Only if you want to…” He added.

You smiled widely, feeling a non sexual urge of adoration for him. “Yes, I want to too.”

You hurriedly kicked your bloomers off before walking towards the cot. You placed a lithe hand on Kieran’s chest and pushed him to lay flat on the cot. Quickly, you poured even more oil onto your hands and rubbed it on your cunt, gasping at your ministrations. He raised his hips to aid you in shuffling his pants lower before you straddled his hips. You pushed your pubis into him, releasing low moans in unison.

Hurriedly, you lifted your hips as he assisted you in inserting himself. You sat down on his lap fully, taking his engorged cock in all at once. You placed a hand over Kieran’s mouth as you began bouncing on his lap, the only sounds in the room being his muffled moans and the slapping of skin on skin. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from being loud, rather focusing all your attention on raising and lowering yourself.

Your thighs burned at the repeated action, but you willed yourself to continue, only stopping momentarily to keep the burning at bay before continuing quickly after. Kieran came quickly after, but you kept going. Even when his muffled moans turned into high pitched whines from overstimulation, you chased your own release.

You retracted your hand, smirking down at Kieran. He looked completely debauched, his face red and sweaty, eyes watering from pleasure. You teased him by playing with your tits, rubbing even more oil on them as you pulled and squeezed your own nipples. He looked hypnotized by the way they bounced with each motion. Eventually, you trailed a hand down between your legs, spreading your glistening folds for Kieran so he could watch as you rubbed your clit. You threw your head back and let loose a string of curses, cumming all over Kieran’s cock with fervor.

You stilled on his lap, smiling as you gasped and tried to catch your breath. You looked down at Kieran who was smiling back at you. Kieran remained in you as you laid down on his chest, ear to his heart as you listened to it gradually slow down.

“Wow.” He gasped, causing you to giggle.

“Wow, indeed.” You added. The two of you laid there silently, basking in the afterglow of sex.

“Did you like your massage?” You asked suddenly, craning your neck to face him.

“Yes, definitely. Especially the part that came after.” He joked. Your laughter was cut off by angry footsteps outside your tent.

“Are you two done yet?!” It was Bill. “Camp isn’t exactly the most private area y’know!”

The two of you looked at eachother, a look of shared knowledge as you braced yourselves for the weeks of teasing waiting down the line for you.

Heaven Is A Bedroom - TV Girl

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #Kieran Duffy #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy fluff #Kieran Duffy x reader smut #Kieran duffy smut

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mellowsadistic · 2 years

Text

I stared at my own reflection, thinking hard. I’d just gotten out of bed to give Daddy his morning blowjob, when I’d caught sight of myself in the mirror. Something didn’t look right…

I shouldn’t think so much. Thinking is for men, not girls.

Was that my voice speaking in my head? Why do I sound so high-pitched and little-girlish?

Because I’m a little girl of course!

A little girl… That made sense, I thought, looking at my reflection. It certainly explained the childish pigtails and the bulky training pants hugging my bottom.

All of a sudden, I started to rock from side to side, squirming and pressing my hands against the front of my pull up, distracting me from my thoughts. Was I doing a little dance? No, that wasn’t it. But the squirming definitely reminded me of something… Of course! I looked just like a toddler doing the potty dance! I had to go potty! Smiling triumphantly at what a clever girl I was for figuring it out, I got up to run to the toilet, but the voice interrupted me.

I’m too stupid and immature to use the toilet on my own. That’s why Daddy put me in pull ups. I should just pee in my pants.

“That’s icky!” I whined, still wiggling on the spot, growing more and more desperate. “Only babies wet their pants!”

I am a baby! I wet my pants all the time. Pissy pull ups feel so good!

I frowned in confusion. I couldn’t tell the difference between what I was thinking, and what the voice was saying! But then it was too late; I felt warmth flood into my pants and soak the thick padding of my pull ups. As I watched the flowers on the front fade away, a wonderful tingling feeling ran down my spine and into my pussy like a bolt of electricity, making me moan like a pornstar.

“Oopsie! I did a wee-wee!” I giggled into the mirror, and my voice was the same as the one in my head, ditzy and childish.

No. That’s not me. I’m not ditzy. I’m not childish. I’m a grown-up! An adult!

Grown-ups don’t do wee-wees in their pants. I’m a stupid wittle toddler!

The voice had taken on a more insistent tone, even as it became more breathy and babyish. It definitely wasn’t mine!

Awareness came back to me in a sudden rush. I remembered! My boyfriend had brainwashed me! That sick freak had turned me into some disgusting fetish fantasy: half adult baby, half ditzy bimbo, infantilising myself for his amusement and sucking him off on command.

Uh-oh! I’m being a naughty girl! I need to be punished. I hope Daddy doesn’t spank my bottom and put me back in nappies…

“No!” I screamed. “Get out of my head! You can’t do this to me! I’m a grown woman!”

I’m just a dumb wittle bitch who needs to be tweated wike a child.

I groaned, hearing the ridiculous lisping voice echo around inside my head, becoming indistinguishable from my own thoughts.

I wuv acting wike a stupid baby! I’m Daddy’s slutty little girl!

Daddy’s cock is so yummy! I wanna run to his room right now and give him a long, sloppy blowjob!

“I wuv sucking on Daddy’s cock!” I squealed excitedly, feeling myself getting wet at the thought. Giggling stupidly, I toddled off down the corridor, soggy pull up jiggling between my legs, to find my Daddy.

#mellowsadistic

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 4 months

Text

Damage Gets Done - SAS: Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 9

Summary: As the group returns from the raid on Benghazi, Diana is forced to confront the secrets she's kept from Paddy

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, eventual Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @trenchenjoyer @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd @regseekings

A/N: Sorry this one's a little shorter than usual! I was originally going to include this part at the end of the previous chapter, but it got too long so I decided to separate them. Enjoy!

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Exhaustion tugged at Diana's eyelids as the jeeps rolled into their rendezvous point, the familiar figure of Mike Sadler lounging tiredly beneath a makeshift shelter, shielding his eyes from the sun as he watched them approach. She was jolted sharply awake by the sudden ceasing of the engine's constant hum, a noise she had grown accustomed to over the past few hours, and hurried to re-button her shirt, her makeshift camouflage now nothing more than a frankly embarrassing memory.

But Mike was not the only figure awaiting their arrival. Over by the car stood a woman, dressed sharply with a pair of designer sunglasses to shield herself from the glaring light. Diana suddenly recalled her first day in the SAS camp - had she truly looked as out of place then as this woman did now? The idea almost embarrassed her. But the woman's presence immediately raised a million questions in her mind - questions none of the gawking men around her seemed to share.

Men. Pathetic.

"There's a rumour going around in Cairo that Winston Churchill's son went on a mission behind enemy lines with the SAS," The woman spoke, fanning herself with the brim of her hat as she approached. Scanning Stirling's face, Diana could tell he recognised her. Actually, the more she looked, she wasn't entirely sure she didn't recognise the woman.

On her right, Reg let out a low whistle, staring unashamedly at their new visitor. Diana raised a brow, shooting him a disapproving look, which he didn't seem to notice. That stung. That stung far more than she had expected, and that was... concerning. She wasn't supposed to give a shit when fucking Reg Seekings of all people looked at another woman like that.

But he'd looked at her like that. And maybe she'd been stupid enough to think she was the only one who got that look. Maybe she even cared that she wasn't.

And the more she stood there, the more she was sure she had seen this woman before. "Sorry-" Diana interjected, suddenly realising the others had been halfway through a conversation when the entire group's gazes fell upon her. "Have you been in my house?"

"I have," She nodded, a slight smile curling her lip. "I've spoken with your father on a few occasions - he's one of the only senior officers I can count on to stay in one place."

Diana smiled, nodding. That was her father alright - a nester if ever she'd seen one. He'd lived in Cairo all her life, but she wasn't confident he could navigate beyond the end of their street. The woman held out her hand, and she received in, introducing themselves in turn. She could feel Churchill's gaze boring into the back of her skull, and could tell he was irritated at his meeting with yet another good-looking woman being interrupted.

As her hand was released, she sidestepped towards the Prime Minister's son. "Chin up, Randy. 0 for 2 isn't too bad when we're both out of your league," Diana spoke with a tone of mock sympathy. "I'm sure there'll be a whole fleet of boring little posh-o's with a history of inbreeding in the family for you to choose from once you get home."

He looked nothing short of horrified, face turning bright red, visible even under the layer of sunburn. She let out a snort, patting him on the shoulder and turning away. Making the man squirm was one of the small joys in life, and Diana cherished her chances.

But when she turned, the sight before her almost stopped her in her tracks. Reg had since discarded his shirt, arms raised in a not-so-subtle attempt to show off his muscular build as he continued to stare blatantly at Eve, giving Diana not so much as a second glance. Before her mind had quite had time to register whether her actions were altogether reasonable, she had reached down, grateful for the loose laces on her boot as she tugged it off. Standing awkwardly on one foot so as not to fill her sock with sand, she took a swing and lobbed the shoe straight at Seekings, striking him in the side.

It had not been a hard throw, but enough to elicit a yelp from the man, who stared back at her with an expression of equal parts outrage and confusion.

"What the fuck-?"

"Put your fucking shirt back on," Diana frowned. "Making us look bad, ya creep."

"Fucking Christ," Reg muttered, rummaging for a replacement shirt as he eyed her remaining boot with unease.

"And give me my shoe back," She demanded, leg raised like some kind of enraged flamingo. Seeking chuckled, shaking his head in a wordless reply, holding her boot by the laces as he began to walk further out of her reach.

"Reg? Reg?" Diana prompted, gesturing dramatically at her bare foot as Cooper noticed the situation, beginning to laugh along. Eve, along with Stirling and Churchill, had moved far enough away to continue their business without being disturbed, but she found she had little choice other than to hop after him, suddenly regretting her impulsive act of aggression.

"Oh, you shit," She called, tearing off her remaining shoe with as much zeal as she had the first, throwing the second with greater force as it collided with Reg's back. If it had hurt, he hadn't shown it, for he was too amused at the sight of her standing there in her socks upon the sand, already grimacing at the feeling of it between her toes.

"Well, what are you gonna do now?" Seekings laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing as he held out the shoes to her like she were some dog failing at fetch.

"Fuck!" Diana cried, her dismayed expression suddenly turning to a grin as Cooper swooped in from behind, snatching the boots from Reg's grip in the second that he was caught off guard. She gasped, chuckling at Seekings' stricken expression as he tossed them over, scrambling to catch them before they hit the sandy ground below.

"Johnny, my darling, someday you'll make some girl very happy," She said, craning her leg at an awkward angle as she tugged the thick leather back over her heels. Cooper batted a hand at her, wordlessly wandering off, but she noticed a spattering of red across his cheeks accompanying his boyish grin. Reg frowned, turning around and almost walking straight into a jeep when Diana smirked back at him.

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For the remainder of the trip back to Jalo, Diana kept her feet propped up on the dashboard beside Stirling, attempting to get the sand out of her socks. He complained frequently, but in the months they had known each other David had long since grown accustomed to her complete disregard for what he did or didn't want her to do. Frankly, he was just glad she wasn't driving.

"You're flicking sand on me," He droned, eyes on the horizon as they led the small convoy behind them.

"You're annoying," Diana retorted, shaking out one of her socks as she flexed her toes, making him grimace.

"Very mature, thank you."

"You're welcome," She replied sweetly, and he caught a glimpse of her smile in the crooked rearview mirror. Dammit. No matter what she did, he could never quite hold a grudge. Stirling found himself wondering if he would have liked to have had a sister growing up. Although, he wasn't sure he could have coped living with Diana every day, especially not in the more petulant days of his youth.

It was silent for a long moment, but he could feel her gaze boring into the side of his face. "Whatever you're about to do, don't."

The sudden feeling of her finger in his ear made Stirling yelp, and Diana let out a loud snort, laughter erupting like a bubble from her throat. "Stop acting like a child or I swear I'll crash this jeep," He barked, attempting to sound authoritative but sounding altogether far too alarmed, succeeding only in making her laugh harder.

"You think the pair of us dying in a horrible crash is an appropriate punishment for that?"

"I'll probably enjoy it the same amount," David stated, beginning to chuckle himself as Jalo came into view up ahead. "Do not tell the others you just did that," He sighed.

"Think it'll undermine your authority, eh?"

"I find you do little else, Diana," Stirling smiled sarcastically at her, pulling up the handbrake as they rolled to a stop outside the oasis.

She grinned, taking her feet off the dashboard and straightening up as the pair got out of the car, matching frowns tugging at their expressions as they noticed the new French troops lounging about in the sun chairs, flipping through newspapers and sipping on their booze.

"What the fuck..." Stirling muttered.

"They're definitely supposed to be training," Diana pointed out.

Beginning to march up the sandy slope towards the gaping hole in the wall they used as an entrance, Stirling called back to her over his shoulder. "You're in charge for the next thirty seconds until I get back."

Planting her hands on her hips, she let out a snort. "Promotion. Nice."

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By the time he returned, blustering and pissed off, Diana had taken to staring at the tent pitched just beyond the boundaries of their little territory, the canvas blowing slightly in the breeze, a recently shot gazelle strung up over a wooden frame like the hunting trophies her father used to collect.

She hadn't even had to ask what the situation was when Stirling returned - if she knew anything at all about Paddy, she could figure this one out. "He's not done shit since we left, has he?"

"What he has done is break bones, knock out teeth, and almost inspire a fucking mutiny," He fumed, brushing past her as he made an angered beeline for Mayne's tent. At the feeling of her hand grasping his shoulder he stopped, turning to look irritably back at her. "What?"

"I'll go. He doesn't like either of us but he respects me more than he does you."

Stirling raised a brow. "Are you sure about that?"

"In fairness, it's a low bar," She nodded, patting him on the shoulder before taking his place in the march towards Paddy Mayne's makeshift sanctuary.

In the dim light of the tent, he lay down on his bunk, book propped up against his chest as he read in silence. He somehow looked even worse than he had the last time she saw him, covered in dirt and dust, his hair greasy and his beard matted. Diana didn't bother waiting for an invitation, grunting as she crouched down to sit on the floor, stealing the half-empty bottle of whiskey from beside his bed.

Paddy hadn't looked up from his book when he spoke. "So. How'd it go."

"Blew up a car," She spoke, pulling out the cork with her teeth. "Tore a hole through a building, probably killed a dozen men, didn't stay to find out. Beat up a guy in an alley though - scratched his eyes so bad he couldn't see."

He let out a grunt that could've almost been a laugh, putting the book down, open against his stomach. "Buildings don't count for the tally."

"You know I never gave a fuck about that," Diana shrugged, taking a sip of the whiskey. "I do care about this though," She gestured to the tent around them. "About you not doing your job - beating the shit out of those French wankers."

"They deserved it."

"Fucking probably, doesn't mean you get to do it. D'you think I'd be here if I broke the ribs of everyone I met who deserved it? They'd give me the fucking death penalty," She chuckled, almost passing the bottle back to Mayne before rethinking it.

He smiled then, a sliver of teeth showing. After a pause, Paddy spoke. "Why'd Stirling send you, then? Scared to deal with his own problems as usual."

"He was gonna come - I stopped him. Figured you and I could have a more productive conversation."

"And why the fuck did you think that?"

"Because, unlike Stirling, I don't feel threatened by you."

"Oh, bullshit, yes you do."

Diana's brow furrowed, her frown creasing her cheeks. "No. I don't."

Paddy's head lolled to the side, his gaze finally meeting hers. "Then why won't you talk about Eoin?"

She almost choked, a held breath stoppering her throat and making her feel the need to gag. No one had mentioned Eoin's name to her, not since it had happened. Those that had been there knew what she'd been through and left it alone. Those that hadn't didn't know enough to ask her about it. Until now.

"You don't need to know about what happened to Eoin," Diana spoke, her voice meek, barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed angrily. "You don't get to fuckin' tell me what I do or don't need to-"

"No, no!" She pushed, holding up a hand to silence him. "Let me speak. What I mean is you - specifically you - don't need what happened to him stuck in your head..." In the dim light of the tent, Paddy could still spot the beginning of a tear welling in her eyes. "I know what you went looking for out in the dunes, Paddy, and I know you didn't find it."

He sucked in a sharp breath, the air hissing as it was dragged through the gap in his teeth. "I think you should leave now."

"I didn't tell you about what happened because I blamed myself. And I was scared of what would happen if you did too."

No one spoke for a long time, the desert wind whistling through the gaps in the canvas, the open tent flap swinging back and forth with a repetitively smacking sound as it collided with the outside. The whiskey bottle was tucked between Diana's knees, but she didn't reach for it.

"Weren't your fault." He uttered. She looked up at him with those big, brown, sad eyes of hers, and he almost wanted to hit her. Paddy had never known how to deal with sad people. "Maybe you'll never tell me what happened, but-"

"One day I will."

"But, I know it wasn't your fault."

Diana sniffed, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "Yeah," She nodded. "Yeah... thank you."

Paddy nodded, picking up his book and resuming his reading. She almost laughed, pushing herself up onto her feet.

"Y'know... you're gonna have to apologise to the French."

"Oh, fuck off - you know I won't."

Diana chuckled. "I do. But now I can tell Stirling that I told you to, so it's not my fault when you don't."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. She turned to leave, pausing in the opening of the tent. "Oi."

"Aye?"

"... Wanna go cook the gazelle?"

Paddy took a long pause, thinking this over. After a prolonged moment of silence, he tossed the book aside, pushing himself to sit up with a grunt.

"May as well. Not giving that Jordan prick any, though."

She smiled. "We'll see."

#sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes fic #sas rogue heroes oc #david stirling #paddy mayne #reg seekings #reg seekings x oc #johnny cooper #eve mansour #sas: rogue heroes fic #sas: rogue heroes #oc: diana

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