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jkbabiey · 1 year

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What your Lilith sign says about you

OBS: If you don't know what your lilith sign is, just use an online chart calculator (strongly recommend using the 'Extended Chart Selection' on astro.com - don't forget to add 'Lilith' in 'Additional Objects'). Also, this is an 18+ post so, if you're under that age, pls don't read it!!

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠:

Lilith in Aries loves a good fight, as they embody the spirit of competition;

There is a particular need to completely dominate every fight they get into and every hater they come across;

There's a tendency in these natives to turn their anger into action, which can lead to a physical display of anger in the form of physical aggression, affecting everyone and everything in sight and spreading like wildfire (which will most likely be the case for those who don't have a suitable outlet for their fierce temper, like a sport);

These natives have a primal sex drive and can become restless in love, in the sense that they can get easily bored if there's no newness in the relationship;

Lilith in Aries craves rough, raw sex

To these natives, sex would, ideally, be quick, dirty, and aggressive

There's a significant correlation between sex and aggression to these natives - somehow, sex after fighting may be a huge turn-on to them;

They may have a thing for domination themes in sex (either being dominated or dominating someone)

As arise dominates the head, there may be a particular liking towards hair pulling, or oral sex.

They may find people who are rough around the edges attractive - their type is the bad boy (they may even find scars attractive).

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑇𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑢𝑠:

Lilith in Taurus doesn't like to share. They hold onto their possessions tightly;

These natives may feel torn between wanting to embody the sense of lust they feel and enjoying the goods of all 5 senses (good food, good sex, good perfume, good music...), and feeling ashamed of wanting too much, which can lead to sudden emotional outbursts, emotional disorders or even eating disorders;

These natives appreciate comfort, and they can feel anxious whenever they are out of their comfort zone;

They can't handle change, which can lead to them staying in situations that no longer serve them, like toxic relationships, or unfulfilling jobs;

They are all about material security and stability, as they love luxury and fear poverty;

Undeveloped lilith in taurus can lead to someone who is egotistical, selfish, gets everything they want (not caring about what effect that may have on other people), and mocks people with financial needs

These people are prone to throw jealous fits;

Sex with these natives should involve all five senses: the room should smell amazing, there should be amazing quality bedding, an appetizer (like chocolate-covered strawberries, or something), and sensuous lighting. Bonus points if you use whipped cream during sex;

Taurus rules the neck area, so this has to be a focus for their partner;

Hickeys, neck kisses, neck biting, choking, or even leashes - may all be some of these natives' kinks

Also, vocalization is IMPORTANT - you moan, groan, say what you want and what you're gonna do (just express any sexual gratification).

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐺𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖:

Lilith in Gemini is curious and that can be a blessing and a curse for them. These natives say no to nothing; they will try anything at least once. They want to experience it all, which may lead to them experiencing some stuff that they may hate;

These individuals are very prone to be misunderstood;

They can seem arrogant because they have a sharp tongue and they know how to use it - they can be wicked with what they say when angry;

Their strongest weapon is their mind - they can make excellent communicators, embodying the smooth-talker, but can also use that as a way to manipulate other people;

There's something seductive in the way these natives communicate and most of them may have an attractive voice

These natives are known for giving mixed signals, having a tendency to run hot or cold, and flipping switches on people without a second thought;

These natives are indecisive and may have some trouble knowing what they want in their love life, and most of the time they harbor adoration towards someone but when it gets serious they run away, which can be associated with the non-committal energy associated with the sign of Gemini - and can lead to a deep frustration in these individuals

These natives need to be intellectually stimulated, being attracted to people who can keep up with their witty nature, and who can keep up a fluid conversation - dirty talk can be a huge turn-on to these individuals;

Gemini Lilith can appear one way, initially to prospective partners, and completely flip the switch in the bedroom ;

Gemini rules the shoulder, the arms, the hands, and the fingers, so these body parts are in focus during sex - they may like scratching or biting their partner's shoulders or arms during sex; Also, these natives may be attracted to someone who has muscular arms/shoulders and/or tatted arms/shoulders/hands...

The hands are ruled by gemini so they may have a kink for sucking their partner's fingers; They may also love it when their partner grabs them inappropriately in a public setting and may enjoy giving/receiving hand-jobs or being fingered/fingering their partner

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐶𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟:

Lilith in Cancer embodies the maternal feminine power;

These individuals have a particular need to feel needed which can lead to them over-giving and not receiving anything;

Undeveloped Lilith in Cancer may dismiss their own healthy limits, overextending themselves for the sake of someone else's comfort;

These natives suffer from separation anxiety, and their biggest fear is abandonment, which can lead to them being overly clingy and needy, invading their partner's personal space;

You may be unable to feel anything sexual towards your partner if there's no emotional connection beforehand;

These individuals have a calming, gentle, and soft energy to them, and they have an other-worldly ability to read other people - they can use these characteristics to emotionally manipulate their partners, using it to keep them from leaving

This soft energy is still present in the bedroom. These natives love to be taken care of during sex, but they can also read their partner easily, meaning they will know how to get their partner off by picking up on subtle hints and desires

Cancer rules the chest, the breast, and the stomach. They may like to sexualize their breast by using lingerie, accessories, and cologne/perfume. These natives may also be attracted to someone with a voluptuous breasts or a muscular chest;

Cancer Lilith may enjoy chest play, as well as licking and sucking the stomach area. Since cancer is ruled by the Moon, which is related to the motherly figure, there may also be a kink related to pregnancy

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑒𝑜:

Lilith in Leo isn't afraid of the spotlight. This placement exudes a golden aura of charm that mesmerizes the ones around them - which can be used as a way of manipulation;

These individuals have a captivating presence. They are very attractive and they know it, and this may lead to someone with a lot of self-respect, or to someone egocentric;

This level of physical attractiveness can lead to shallow relationships, and, as these individuals tend to seek other people's approval, they avoid digging deeper into their relationships, to keep their partner from seeing their ugly side;

These natives can't deal with criticism, be it constructive or not, as they have a strikingly strong egos;

These natives like drama - they are not afraid of starting drama just for the fun of it. Leo is a provocative sign, so in a relationship, a Leo Lilith won't be afraid of starting an argument just to see rile up their partner;

These individuals can be selfish in love, looking to be the center of attention in their relationship

These natives like dramatic sex. They are ferocious and passionate when it comes to sex.

Leo rules the back and shoulder, so scratching, biting, and even whipping these areas may be a turn-on for these natives;

They are also attracted to strong healthy hair, so hair pulling may be a big thing for them. They may also think that post-sex hair is attractive.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑉𝑖𝑟𝑔𝑜:

Lilith in Virgo knows what they want and knows how to get it;

These individuals are perfectionists to the extreme and this characteristic can be reflected in their romantic relationships, manifesting as control issues and over-the-top standards;

Undeveloped Virgo Lilith may have a tendency to suppress their sexual energy and some of them might be impotent or just unable to perform sex due to the fear of failure of sex;

Lilith in Virgo is a very problematic placement as Lilith is a sign that represents functionality and balance and Lilith is a provocative, empowering asteroid - the two energies conflict;

These natives are strategic and cunning. They like to move in silence, which keeps people guessing and gives them a mysterious look;

Virgo Lilith desires someone intelligent and communicative, with whom they can have logical continuous conversations. They are also attractive to people who, just like them, are healthy and hygienic;

Developed Virgo Lilith is the definition of "lady in the streets, freak in the sheets";

This is a placement that's willing to experiment in bed, not having a definitive list of kinks or turn-ons;

This is a very careful and clean placement when it comes to sex, prioritizing health, by utilizing birth control, getting tested regularly, and being sexually selective. These people tend to love shower sex, fantasizing about showering with their partner.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎:

Lilith in Libra embodies the struggle between being the perfect, mysterious, and independent individual, as they are very charming and elegant, or the perfect partner;

This placement looks for a perfectly beautiful partner and they tend to try to look flawless as well;

An undeveloped Libra Lilith may ridicule people who are not beautiful in their eyes;

Lilith in Libra fears loneliness so they would go to any level to make peace with their partner to avoid loneliness, most of the times blaming themselves in order to put an end to any potential disagreement;

Lilith in Libra tends to be shallow in the choice of the people around them, tending to choose elite, sophisticated, and refined people as their friends. They tend to judge people by how they seem on a superficial level or by what they have;

These people tend to avoid making hard decisions and most of the time avoid making them, pushing them onto their close ones, so they'll make those choices instead;

They like the chase and they are good at flirting, using flirtatious touches, longing gazes, and seductive words. Nothing makes them happier than winning over the unwinnable;

Libra rules the skin, butt, and lower back, these may all be a sexual focus - they may even have sexual fantasies about spanking, anal sex, and/or anal play. They tend to have attractive butts and/or be attracted to people with attractive butts;

They can also be attracted to people with beautiful skin (blemish-free and/or even-toned skin)

Touches on the butt or lower back may be a way of flirting to these individuals;

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑖𝑜:

Lilith in Scorpio is magnetic, powerful, and intense, but highly secretive;

This is a very experimental placement, which is open to kinky sex, toys, taboo topics, and fetishizing themes in sex;

Their sexuality is very apparent and other people may have an overly sexual image of these natives.

They may have had other people interested in them purely based on sex because their sexual energy is a lot of times the first thing others notice; These individuals may have felt objectified most of their lives because of the common unjustified sexual interest coming from strangers;

These natives' feelings are either very intense or not at all - it's all or nothing for them, and when an undeveloped scorpio lilith feels it all, it may manifest in aggression, jealousy, obsession, control, and power;

To these natives sex may be an overwhelming experience because of the emotional bond that comes with it;

Scorpio is associated with the concept of power and control; In relationships, these natives can become controlling - they like to be on top, and in control; This also applies to sex (most scorpio Liliths like to be on top)

To these individuals life can be very much compared to a game - everything is about power;

Undeveloped Scorpio Liliths can find their most significant enemy in their own obsessive and jealous tendencies, these two can be quite the monster to deal with;

Scorpio rules the genitalia and the reproductive and excretory systems, so these natives may be drawn to the size and girth of sexual organs; Also, they may have an impregnation, breeding, or excretory kink.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠:

Lilith in Sagittarius seeks abundance and luxury - they want it all and they want it big, be it the most exotic vacation destiny or the wildest party

They are born entertainers and they don't mind having all eyes on them; It's extremely hard to get these individuals to feel somewhat shy or embarrassed;

Sagittarius Liliths cannot deal with small, mundane, day-to-day experiences. Sagittarius is a placement that is known for the tendency to experiment, so lilith in this sign may lead to an excessive level of hedonism and to overindulging in "experiencing" without a limit;

Being open to new experiences, new food, new countries, and new people, these placement tends to attract dangerous people;

Being the epitome of a 'bon vivant', these people cannot handle it when other peoples' feelings get too deep or when others get upset with them, tending to ignore the issue, run away or get angry about it;

Nonetheless, Sagittarius Lilith is a fighter - they will be the first one to stand up for causes like gender equality and animal cruelty; Theoretically, they have the best philosophies and they stick to them - their biggest fear is meaninglessness;

This is the placement most likely to question the existential meaning of life and the paranormal world;

This is a highly promiscuous placement too, being too impulsive, brash, and bold when it comes to sex; This can manifest in them having multiple sexual partners or numerous wild sexual experiences;

Since Sagittarius rules the hips and legs, these individuals may like to highlight their legs with heels, thigh-high boots, fishnets, or garters, or they may like it when their partners wear these types of items;

This placement may also be curvier or be attracted to curvier people;

Due to the adventurous Sagittarius nature, lilith in Sagittarius may like to have sex in public settings - the idea of getting caught may be a turn-on.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑛:

Lilith in Capricorn has a thirst for big achievements, success, and social status - they exude domineering energy

These natives may even become obsessed with the idea of power, feeling attracted to powerful people without really knowing who they are - they may fantasize about being part of a power couple

These natives understand the way the 3D world works perfectly and that's why they thrive while maneuvering in it - they know how to go where they want to go;

Capricorn is the archetype of 'the boss' so they may have a tendency to try and control everything and everyone around them and they may have a hard time understanding that you cannot just control people if you're not their superior in a professional environment;

This is a highly sensual placement, having a lot of sexual energy - even though they mask it very well; Their sexual energy is not provocative or over-the-top, it's rather sly and smooth;

Capricorn Liliths may be attracted to older or more mature people; They may also desire someone who’s in a position of power/control, or have a status about them

It's fairly common for these natives to have fantasies such as office sex, sex with their boss, using sex to gain notoriety in their professional environment, having sex with a highly prominent figure, or gaining the upper hand in a certain situation through sex;

They may also dream of living a secret office love affair;

Capricorn rules the teeth, joints, and skeletal system, so the idea of flexibility may be a turn-on for these individuals;

There may also be kinks such as bondage, being tied up, or bending the body in difficult positions;

These natives may like receiving and giving hickeys and bites;

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠:

Lilith in Aquarius is the visionary rebel and anything conventional bores them;

Their most valuable asset is their freedom and they use it to always do things their way, which can lead to them feeling like an outsider more often than not (a developed and empowered aquarius lilith will feel at home anywhere tho);

These individuals may tend to try and fit into already formed groups, but most often than not they will not be accepted and this may lead them to feel ashamed of their own characteristics;

Later on in their life, these individuals tend to find other people that will accept them and be as alien-like as them - they tend to become wildly unapologetic of their own uniqueness;

This placement is the embodiment of the quote 'my way or the highway' - they can be quite stubborn;

When it comes to sex, aquarius lilith is just as adventurous and liberal as Sagittarius or scorpio lilith - they are not afraid to explore out-of-the-box sexual fantasies or get freaky, on the other hand, they are utterly comfortable just exploring their own sexuality in its quirky, atypical kinks and fantasies;

There won't be one single sexual fantasy for these individuals, they are willing to try anything and everything their partner wants to try; there will be a whole bunch of different stuff that excites them;

The difference between sag and aqua lilith is that aquarius lilith likes to get freaky, but preferably with a long-standing sexual partner where there’s trust and history involved;

Since Aquarius rules the ankles and the calves, Aquarius Lilith may take a lot of pride in showing off its legs or maybe heavily attracted to someone with defined legs.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛 𝑃𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑠:

Lilith in Pisces is the escapist daydreamer - they prefer a fantasy world to a real one;

These individuals want to be surrounded by beauty and they may try to escape the harshness of the real world through daydreams and an idealist and utopian mentality;

This placement has a hard time dealing with accountability so they may struggle with escapist tendencies such as excessive partying, excessive spending, excessive promiscuity, self-sabotaging, and even engaging in substance abuse;

Undeveloped pisces liliths are prone to addiction and may have a tendency to indulge in toxic substances like drugs to isolate themselves from the cruelness of the real world; There may also be a tendency to develop depressive habits (therapy is recommended for this placement);

A developed pisces lilith may develop into a healer, a poet, an empath, or an artist of some sort;

These individuals belong to the aesthetic of a coming-of-age movie and they tend to turn the simplest of things into dramatic experiences;

In sex, pisces lilith wants romance;

These individuals may idealize sexual experiences, turning sex into a tricky subject for them - nothing is perfect but pisces lilith will idealize everything from their sexual partners to their sexual escapades and relationships, giving sex an excessively unrealistic image in their own minds;

Pisces rules the feet and body fat so pisces lilith may have a foot fetish or be attracted to someone with a fuller curvier figure;

#lilith astrology #lilith #astrology observations #obs #atrology obs #lilith observations #aries lilith #taurus lilith #gemini lilith #cancer lilith #leo lilith #libra lilith #scorpio lilith #sagittarius lilith #capricorn lilith #aquarius lilith #pisces lilith #virgo lilith

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50shadesofrossi · 2 years

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Ruining You

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Viserys’ eldest daughter, the blood of the dragon running thick. You have a temper, and it seems Harwin is the only one brave enough to tame it despite your mutual loathing

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, swearing and depictions of violence

A/N: Holy shit. This was originally 13k words but in the last thousand the plot went a bit haywire and the writing was bleh so I deleted that and just fixed a few things to make it where it is now. I sincerely apologise if this isn’t what you thought when I originally posted the idea, it did kind of run away on me but at the same time, I lowkey love it. Enjoy, this 12k fic :)

Rage boils deep within your veins, the bubbles extremely close to spilling over. Your father always said you and your sister Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon, especially the hot temperament, though he underestimated just how ferocious you can get, even as a child.

You feel every emotion with such a raw intensity that sometimes you don't know what to do, or how to deal with it and it explodes, consuming you whole and turning you into someone entirely different. Your alter ego, as your uncle Daemon calls it.

Much like now, wildfire blazing within your eyes, steam simmering out of your ears and blood spilling into your mouth from grinding your teeth so hard. It takes every ounce of strength to not erupt, destroy anything in your path and embarrass your father further.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Viserys yells from the throne, his voice echoing down the great hall for all to hear.

No, you're not listening to him, too busy trying to direct your anger elsewhere, direct it at someone else. Pain flares up your arms, wrapping around like a snake as your nails dig into your palms.

Viserys calls your name and almost stumbles back in response to your attention flickering up to him. "Is that all, your grace?" You grit.

The small group of occupants cease breathing. Viserys sighs exasperatedly, gesturing for your dismissal. Without hesitation you spin on your heel, marching your way out of the hall and toward the fastest exit out of the Keep, away from prying eyes.

Servants, lords and ladies all evacuate the premises, steering clear of your path of destruction as you make your way toward the back of the gardens, your secret area you call it. Your dress swishes around your ankles, your heeled boots clipping the ground.

You barely make it in time, rounding the large tree and searching for your hidden blade. The steel glints under the sunlight, ringing as it slashes through the air and makes contact with the already-exposed bark. Bits fly everywhere with each swing, your bottled-up rage slowly leaking out.

You don't hear the person approach, nor do you feel the eyes watching you intently, silent and observing. To say the knight is used to your outbursts is an understatement. You never fail to remind him of who you're descendant from, the unyielding anger and raw emotions of a Targaryen.

A dragon.

"Fuck!" You scream angrily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and your knees buckling. You hit the earth harshly, staining your dress, not that you care at this moment.

The sword falls from your grip, landing amongst the dirt.

"I half expected you to climb atop your dragon and burn King's Landing to the ground," the knight muses from behind you, making himself known and slowly approaching you like a rabid animal.

You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing him away and hoping to awaken from this horrible nightmare. You hear the debris snap under his weight with each step closer, reigniting your hatred.

With precision, despite the dress, you come to your feet and whirl around, your hand having grasped your blade in the process. "And you best believe I'd burn you first, you fucking snitch." You seethe, pointing the end toward him.

"Princess-" he starts, daring to place his foot down and inch himself closer.

"Unless you want to be choking on your blood Ser Harwin," you address him. "I'd stand down and leave me be."

Harwin swallows thickly, an inkling of fear rolling down his spine. "It wasn't me," he starts off carefully, deciding to keep his distance. "I never told anyone, certainly not your father or mine. But to be truthful, I'm glad someone else did."

"Liar," you approach him with purpose, resting the point of the blade on his knitted tunic. "You have the most to gain by staying on his good side, being rewarded with his favour; Commander of the Gold Cloaks." He holds your eye, his fingers twitching. "My uncle is bound to screw up eventually and when that happens, you'll slide right into his position. All you heirs are the same."

"Princess," he tries again.

"Breakbones."

His jaw flexes. You've struck a nerve, a nerve you love to hit. "Don't," he warns.

"Go guard your honourable princess, and leave me alone. I'm in no tolerable mood." You indicate your younger sister, Rhaenyra.

Harwin breathes steadily through his nose, ignoring the fact that you're trying to get under his skin, to piss him off like you are. It's almost routine by now, especially when you're this riled up.

"And so you plan to torture the tree? With that flimsy sword, which by the way, will shatter the moment it meets real steel."

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling harshly. Harwin makes a split-second decision, one that he's sure will land him as food for your dragon. He knocks your sword away, the unexpected force causing you to stumble back and blink up at him.

"Never take your eyes off your opponent."

Confusion begins to overlap your previous state, your fingers twisting for a better grip on the handle of your sword that now is by your side. "What are you-"

"Who taught you to wield a sword?" You don't answer. Harwin speaks your name, a different kind of fire burning within you. "Who taught you?" He presses, his tone firm, as though he talks to a child.

"Ser Criston Cole."

"Ser Criston Cole," he drawls, almost in disbelief. "Of fucking course." He mumbles to himself. His own kind of anger sparks, his skin crawling at the thought of the two of you alone. "And let me guess, you begged and pleaded with him to teach you how to defend yourself because you know that going outside the Red Keep is a stupid fucking idea."

He should slap himself for speaking so indirectly, informally to you, his princess. Yet, he couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

During your nights, you spend them down in Flea Bottom, or anywhere that's not the Red Keep, spreading your wings and soaring. You hate being holed up, being monitored and being expected to carry out duties you never asked for, never wanted. Even as a child, you wished you of been born to a low-born family, even a lady and lord would be better than King Viserys' firstborn.

When your mother and brother passed, Viserys was prepared to bake you his heir, but you declined. You could think of nothing worse, having seen the stress and duty your father must endure on a day-to-day basis. You know Rhaenyra will be a better Queen.

Not to mention, you wish to marry for love. As childish and dreamer-like for you to want, you gave up fighting years ago.

On most of your escapades, Harwin finds you, and ultimately drags you back to the safety of the Keep. He's the only knight that you know of, that's caught you, leading you to believe he is responsible for reporting it to your father. Hence why you were abruptly dragged from your chambers this morning.

"And you think you can do better? Ser Criston at least understands that I'll do as I please, not try and reprimand me at every given chance." You lower your voice. "And watch yourself, Ser Harwin, I'm still your princess, no matter how much you hate it."

Regret flashes in his eyes before it's gone. "Then let's see what you've learnt."

Harwin draws his sword, knowing damn well he could be executed for doing so. But at this moment, you're both too wound up to differentiate between what's right and wrong. A habit, of the both of you.

You flinch at the large sword, deep down knowing Harwin would never jeopardise you, never put you in harm's way or risk hurting you. You lift your chin, swallowing the lump in your throat and raising your sword.

He watches in amusement, allowing you a heartbeat before he attacks, bringing his sword down. You block with ease, unprepared for how light it is. He's pulling all his strength back. You push the sword away, moving around and keeping your footwork light, smirking.

"Is something funny?" Harwin raises an unimpressed brow, his eyes never leaving you.

You bite back a smile at his clear agitation. "No."

He grunts, striking again. Your reflexes move before you think, blocking and attempting to counterattack yourself, refusing to show your frustration. He's still clearly overpowering you and much more experienced.

You silently pray for those that meet the end of Harwin's fury.

"Tell me, Princess" he starts, a loud ringing vibrating into the area as your swords clash. "Has Ser Criston taught you hand-to-hand combat, or how to escape someone's grip?"

The question takes you off guard, your head tilting as you try to remember. Harwin uses the moment to smack your sword out of your hand, his own dropping for your safety and his arms wrapping around you.

You cease breathing, the constricted in your throat and your heart skipping a beat. An arm gently presses against your throat, Harwin having put you in a controlled headlock, your back flush with his front.

Your lips part, your fingers instinctively digging into his arm. Heat crawls up your neck, blood pounding in your ear. You know this is a training exercise, but you can't help in feeling so safe in his arms. Your muscles automatically relax, your adrenaline calms and your breath slowly comes back to you with each second.

You should hate the situation you're in. Granted, if it was any other person you'd be kicking up a shit storm and preparing to have them fed to your dragon but it's not just anyone. It's Harwin, and that makes you hate him more.

Hate him for having this effect on you, for consuming your thoughts and imprinting himself amongst your dreams. Though you know he's not to blame, it's yourself.

For falling so profoundly, and irrevocably in love with him.

"No doubt, you could handle yourself in an armed fight but what if they get the upper hand, like I did just now, and you're left with close combat, or even worse, they grab you like this," Harwin says to you, his voice thickening with an emotion you can't quite place. "How do you get out?"

You shake with nerves, at the thought of your escape plan. It's stupid, and it might not work and fuck everything up. Though it could work, and once again, fuck it all up. You push the insecurities down, knowing that he's trying to teach you a life lesson, even if you don't want to hear it.

You twist your head, his grip not being tight in any way, and find his lips with ease, capturing them. Harwin falters, his arms opening and allowing you the opportunity to slip through and distance yourself from him.

"That's how." You lick your lips, drawing the taste of him into your mouth.

Harwin studies you with a deep look of something, mixed with unhinged anger and fear. He doesn't say anything, even as he quickly reaches for his sword, sheathing it against his hip and holding your eye for a moment longer.

"One day," he croaks. "You're going to wake up and find yourself all alone." And with that, he turns his back on you.

You watch him leave, shakily bringing the pads of your fingers to your lips, brushing them tenderly. You feel humiliated, shameful and disgusted. You also feel lighter, having finally answered your own question; his lips are soft and the taste of his breakfast still lingers.

"I already am." You whisper to yourself, biting your finger to keep the tears at bay, the anger subsided.

The sun begins its descent from the highest point in the sky before you arrive back at your quarters, dismissing your maids in exchange for silence. You sit atop a lounge on the windowsill, breathing the fresher air from the high distance, ignoring the crestfallen ache in your heart.

You knew something like this would happen, that Harwin would reject you and push you away. It's part of the reason why you hate him because you know you can't have him. Your father would never allow it, as his firstborn. He'd see to it that you marry a beneficial house, to further strengthen your sister's claim to the throne since you turned away from it.

It doesn't make it any easier, or any less hard. You've spent almost every day in each other's presence, in either passing or company. You've known him since he was a boy. Uncoordinated and lanky, until he grew and filled out into the man he is today.

"I don't know what you've done, but I'd steer clear from father," Rhaenyra bursts inside, speaking before seeing you. She calls for you when you don't respond, hoping she'll leave.

She doesn't.

Rhaenyra perches herself beside you, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. "What's happened?"

"Ser Harwin told father of my nightly adventures."

Rhaenyra frowns, gazing out the window. "It wasn't him, it was Ser Criston," you gape at her, shifting to lean your back against the wall, mirroring your sister. "He said as much when Ser Harwin confronted him about teaching you how to wield a sword, and the two go into it."

"Shit," you murmur, leaning your head back.

"I assume he came from seeing you, with how riled up he was. Never seen him so angry."

She looks at you expectantly. "I kissed him." Her eyes widen. "To prove a point! He asked me how I'd escape from a headlock, and I kissed him, to distract him. It worked because he let go of me."

"Makes sense," Rhaenyra nods, referring to his destructive path. "What was it like?"

You glance at her, a small smile ghosting your lips. "It was only brief, but they are smooth, the complete opposite of him."

You both giggle, dismissing the fact that you dishonoured not only yourself but Harwin. For a few minutes, you sit in silence, relishing in the company of your sister. These moments are rare, as of late, with her newfound responsibilities.

"Are you going to listen to father?"

You stare at her, the answer shining in your lilac eyes. "What do you think."

Harwin surrounds himself with his fellow gold cloaks, in an attempt to enjoy his night off. They laugh and joke, spilling their alcohol and losing their hands on woman's bodies.

He finishes his drink rather frustratedly, slamming it on the counter accidentally. He can't get the stupid fucking kiss out of his head, replaying the scene over and over.

The way your body moulded to his own, your smaller frame engulfed and your erratic heart pounding against his arm. How he divulged himself and allowed his nose to brush your hair, inhaling your scent and losing his control.

And fuck, when you leant up and kissed him, he couldn't help but respond. His restraint snapped at that moment, and if it weren't for you slipping out and distancing yourself-he doesn't want to imagine what he would have done.

From your first meeting, he knew he'd grow up to love you, your hot-headed temperament and stubborn wilfulness. Before he arrived in Kings Landing, his father had drilled into him how to act, how the royal family would act, yet there you stood, unaware of his presence as you yelled profanities into the sky. Not to mention, when you caught him gawking, asked him, the fuck are you looking at?

Your first words ever spoken to him.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing his face and deciding to leave, knowing that drinking his problems away won't solve anything. The cool air nips at him through his woollen clothes, his dark cape swaying behind him as he makes his way back to the Keep.

Approaching the gates, he hears a rustle, pausing to make sure his senses aren't clouded. "Fucking shit," Harwin immediately reaches for his sword, keeping his hand on the hilt whilst cautiously making his way closer to the whispered profanities.

He watches you, straightening your clothes and checking to make sure the coast is clear before you walk off toward the city. He raises a brow at the choice of clothes; black pants and a shirt, with a jacket that is a size too big and a cloak to hide your white hair. Though nothing can cover the deep lilac of your eyes.

He makes the hasty decision to follow you, keeping his distance yet being close enough to protect you should anything happen. Harwin smiles to himself, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to teach you a lesson.

If it's so easy for him to sneak up behind you, imagine someone else, with impure intentions.

He follows you for some time, a small part of him enjoying the look of awe and joy at the sights. Each night you leave, you try to explore new parts of the city, learning about your folk. Harwin must admit, not many royals would do so, preferring to stick to the comforts of the Keep.

The moon is high in the sky, shining down and revealing clear paths as you steer left and right, nowhere in particular yet taking note of each turn. You may be reckless, but you're not stupid.

Harwin chooses this moment to make his move, observing the way you slip steadily down the passageway and pause at the sound of water lapping against the walls. He creeps out, covering your mouth and pulling you to him, stepping out of the light and into the darkness.

You scream against his gloved hand, thrashing wildly and reaching for your concealed knife when, "and just like that princess, I've killed you. Or worse, knocked you out and used you for my pleasantries. How many times must I tell you until you get it through your thick skull that this isn't safe."

You stop, your heart thundering and your adrenaline pumping. You close your eyes, subconsciously leaning further into Harwin. He hesitantly removes his hand, waiting for the explosion.

"I could have killed you," you murmur, the weight of the blade heavy in your hand. You were prepared to stab him in the kidney. The thought of harming him destroys you. "I could have killed you, all because of your stupidity!" You whirl around, still touching him.

"My stupidity?" He repeats.

"Yes!" You fire, glaring up at him. "All to teach me a lesson, when I'm not stupid! Have you ever thought that maybe I just don't give a fuck? I know it's not safe, why do you think I sneak around and blend in." You pause, avoiding his gaze and staring at the Strong house crest on his chest. "This is the only time I feel normal, where my existence is insignificant."

"Princess, no one asks to be born into their roles, to be born rich or poor," he starts, remembering all the times you spoke of wishing to be someone other than a princess, other than Viserys' firstborn. "But it's our duty to push through, to become what we're meant to be; Lord of Harrenhal, and Princess, of the seven kingdoms."

Your emotions are high and twisted, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you squeeze your eyes shut to keep them at bay. "I didn't want to be a Queen, I sure as hell don't want to be a princess. I just want to be someone's wife, someone's mother. Someone's greatest love. Is that so hard?"

You can't control the words, the heartfelt words that shatter Harwin. Suddenly, he understands you. He knows you. He says your name, softly, bringing his hand to your chin and tilting it up. Forcing you to look at him.

Harwin wipes at your cheek with his thumb, tenderly caressing the flesh and relishing in the feel of you in his hand. So small and frail. So exposed. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of metal armour clanging together draws his attention elsewhere.

"Shit." He curses.

He has nowhere to move to. The path spans over a hundred metres, with a wall on one side and the water's edge on the other. He couldn't even go to a corner. Solutions run through his mind, the sound of guards nearing causing him to do the first thing that pops up.

"Sorry, Princess." He mumbles, pushing you against the concrete wall and covering the majority of your body with his, with no space left between you. Your brows furrow in confusion, question flashing in your eyes.

Harwin does what he's always wanted to do: press his lips to yours.

You squeak, given no time to prepare, your eyes wide in surprise. Only twelve hours ago, he was looking at you with utter hatred and disgust for you doing the same thing. The blade clatters against the ground.

The gold cloaks walk past without an issue, chuckling at the two of you but paying no mind. Harwin keeps his lips firmly against you, hating having to put you in this situation.

When they become a dot in the distance, does he pull away, searching your eyes. "You kissed me back," you refer to earlier. That was your first kiss, this you never realised Harwin had responded. Your eyes harden, your lips pursing as you inhale as much air as possible before being your hand up and slapping him. His head snaps to the side at the sheer force, shock yet understandable written on his face.

He doesn't respond, the words unable to form in his mouth. He swallows thickly, his jaw taut. He deserved that. He dares look at you again, his chest rising rapidly and the air crackling.

You push off the wall, shaking your head in disbelief and attempting to round him. Your shoulder clashes with his when he turns to grab your upper arm, halting you. You glare up at him, opening your mouth to hurtle harsh words at him. Harwin moves first, pulling you back to him and claiming your lips.

You're not even given a chance to respond before he pulls back, his face still close and his breath fanning your cheeks. He looks at you with hunger, lust and want. Realisation dawns on you; he's just as conflicted as you are.

Your heart tugs you forward, your hands gripping his tunic and meeting him halfway. Harwin's hands cup the sides of your head.

He devours you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease and his hands sliding to the base of your neck and head, titling you up to give more access. You whimper, grappling with his tunic as if he could suddenly move away from you.

He doesn't, shifting to have your back against the wall again, his apparent hard-on pressing into you. Your lungs ache with release, the lack of oxygen making you lightheaded yet desperate for more.

Slowly and reluctantly, you part, his forehead resting on yours. Your lips are evidently swollen, the taste of him still lingering as he peppers you softly, not quite wanting to stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, gliding your hands up to his cheeks, running the pads of your fingers over his beard and around his features.

"I know."

He could be executed for this, you could be disowned. But gods, does it feel right. Right to be in his hold, to be desired and kissed. You never want to stop.

"Fuck I know." He repeats, lower.

You nuzzle each other, refusing to leave the comfort of one another's warmth and touch, despite that nagging thought tugging in the back of your mind. Harwin murmurs that he needs to return you to the Keep, reluctantly standing straighter and removing himself from you.

You follow him in silence, sticking close and for once, not giving him grief. A step up from your usual nights out.

You soon arrive, pausing before you part and he enters through the main gates whilst you scamper up your hidden passageway. "I know it wasn't you, who told my father." You start. "It was wrong of me to accuse you, and I hope one day you can forgive my insolence, and accept my apology."

"Of course, Princess. It is known for spoilt children to lash out when they don't receive what they want," he begins to walk back with a teasing smirk.

You narrow your eyes, watching him for a heartbeat longer and then turning to disappear yourself. The journey back to your quarters is always short, your footsteps light as you work to not attract attention to yourself.

Heaving the door open, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight of your father standing in your room. "Father-"

"Where have you been?" He says in a low, deadly voice.

"Taking a walk,"

"Don't lie to me!" Viserys yells.

The room falls silent. You stare at one another, refusing to break contact. "What will it take for you to listen to me?"

You think over your choice of words. Is it wise to mention that you wish to marry for love? That you wish he'd allow for you to leave this godforsaken city and be elsewhere, anywhere. Be with Harwin.

"I wish-" you choke, refusing to look at him as you lay yourself bare. "I wish to marry of my own free will."

Silence. More silence, his fury-ignited eyes never leaving you, even as you brave the idea to glance up. "No."

"What-"

"You refused me in naming you heir, you will not refuse me in arranging a marriage for you. That, I can not accept." You gape at him, horror and sickness twisting deep within you. "Take this as your punishment for disobeying me."

"You can't do this!" You yell at his retreated figure, anger surfacing and exploding.

"Yes, I can." Viserys ends the argument, storming out of your quarters and forcibly shutting your door. You release a blood-curdling scream, frustration and betrayal gnawing at you.

You grab the closest object, a cup, and hurtle it across the room. It clangs every time it meets the ground, the metal ringing dying down when it rolls to a stop. Your chest heaves, your jaw clenching and unclenching as you grasp for some control, to leash your emotions.

You can't.

You want to hurt your father, hurt him like he's hurt you. There's only one way you know how, leaving you to quickly exit your room through the hidden passageway, navigating down unfamiliar tunnels.

When you were younger, you explored them all, yet there is only a small handful you use, mainly for your adventures outside the Keep.

You basically float over the ground, your steps carefully placed despite your fast pace, eager to arrive at your destination. You reach the door, knocking quickly but firmly, making sure you don't arouse the Hand of the King, or his younger son.

"Princess?" Harwin questions, glancing beyond you. "Is everything alright?"

You say nothing, surging forward and claiming his lips. Harwin can only raise his brows in surprise, at both your forwardness and boldness, your hands resting on his chest to walk him backward, closing the door swiftly behind you.

"What was that for?" He presses, distancing himself from you. He doesn't want to think of the penalty if you were found at this very moment. "Hmm?"

You nibble your lip, holding his gaze even though you'd rather burn for the next words that come out. "I need you."

The room falls silent, only the crackle of the fire is enough from keeping it dark and noiseless. Harwin studies you, not quite believing you. "You need me?" He approaches, agonisingly slow. "I find that very interesting, since only an hour or so ago, you were quite content."

He stands before you, his fingers coming under your chin and leaning your head up. He observes you, enjoying watching you squirm. "The truth, now." He knows you're lying, or at the very least, not entirely honest.

"I am telling the truth-" Harwin changes his grip, pulling you close to him by your chin. You almost collapse. He murmurs your name, the sound rolling down your back on waves. His eyes glint with a challenge, daring you to protest. Your neck heats up. "I could find little sleep, and my," you stop, wishing for the floor to open and swallow you hole. Harwin raises a brow.

"My fingers were insufficient."

You don't realise, that the previous fire of wrath has simmered down, laying dormant. A different burn ravages your body.

A wicked smile pulls at the corner of Harwin's mouth, his demeanour shifting. "Was that so hard?" His voice holding a certain husk, that you've never heard.

His thumb brushes your smooth skin, braving the course of your lips. You release a small breath you didn't realise you were holding and your mouth parts. Harwin drags your bottom lip down, enjoying your compliance.

"You need me to soothe that ache, Princess?" He tortures you, his mouth ghosting you yet inching up every time you try to close the gap.

"Please," you're not sure what you're begging for, the words just tumbling out. You close your eyes in frustration, his breath fanning you.

He finally relents, coming down on your mouth heavily. You barely have a moment to properly respond, his fingers tightening on your chin and his free hand coming to the base of your neck, keeping you steady as he takes your breath.

"This is all you needed," he pulls a hairsbreadth away, his nose pressing onto the side of yours. "Someone to dominate you, leave you powerless." He realises, looking over your wanton state.

Your hands fist his shirt, desperation clear on your face. He smiles softly, abruptly pulling back and creating a well-spaced distance from you. You feel as if a cold bucket of water has been poured over you, watching as he takes a seat by the fire.

"Go to bed, Princess."

You gape at him, fury bubbling to the surface. "Harwin," you start, taking a tentative step forward.

"What you are asking for, is treason. The fucking death penalty."

You flare up. "So is kissing me! What is going a little further?"

"We are talking about your virtue." He raises his voice, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. Gods above, should someone come knocking. "That would be despicable of me, to take something that belongs to your husband."

You frown, coming to stand before him, the sudden rush of heat inflicting goosebumps. "It should be mine to give away, not his to take."

He looks up at you, his curls dishevelled and unruly. He wears a worn shirt, the casual appearance causing your stomach to twist. What you would give, to share days where you are laid bare with each other, to see the other side of Harwin, the improper side of him.

"I trust you, Harwin," you begin, standing between his legs. "I want it to be you. No one else but you, who sees me, and touches me." You hoist a leg over his lap, moving to straddle his lap, your knees digging into the edge of the cushion.

Instinctively, Harwin's hands come to your waist, keeping you situated. He battles with his morals, his body and heart reacting completely opposite to his mind. If you were a low-born, he'd have fucked you back in the passageway, without a care of onlookers.

But your status halts him.

You say his name again, caressing his jaw, your nails scraping through his beard. He doesn't break contact, his palms wandering along your side, moving with a mind of their own. It's plain to see, how much he wants you, how much you want each other.

Painstakingly obvious.

You swallow nervously, inching down to press a gentle kiss on the underside of his jaw, allowing time for him to push you off should he really not want to continue. You wouldn't ask that of him. His fingers flex into your flesh, his head angling up slightly.

A ghost of a smirk plants itself over your lips, a sudden arrogance blooming at his reaction, at his heavier breath intake. You travel to his neck, feeling the urge to nibble lightly, Harwin rolling your hips into him reflexively.

You gasp into his skin at the sudden pleasure, the seam of your pants pulling tightly over your clit. Harwin groans lowly, both at your mouth finding his sweet spot and your hips rutting into him. A sinister thought crosses his mind.

Effortlessly he hoists you up, placing you over his thigh. You sit back in confusion, your initial reaction being that he wants to stop, until he speaks. "You say you use your fingers," your slightly wide eyes are enough of a confirmation. "Then use me. Get yourself off using me."

Your lips part, your eyes searching his. He smiles reassuringly, dragging your hips over his thigh. "Take your pleasure, Princess."

Your head drops into the crevice of his shoulder, an airy moan escaping you at the new sensation. Naturally, you begin to move on your own, a hand snaking up the other side of his head to thread through his curls, using him as leverage.

Harwin jolts his leg up, the action bringing a new wave of pleasure through you. You whimper into his shoulder, your mind reminding you how improper this is, how a woman takes no pleasure from laying with a man yet your body ignores every lesson you've ever been taught.

A low pressure builds, your thighs starting to shake and your movements quickening. Harwin makes the split decision to help, driving your hips down and over, the new motion brings you to your release.

You pant against him, squeezing your eyes shut as he continues to move you gently, drawing your orgasm out. Slowly he comes to a stop, allowing you a moment to really comprehend what's happening before he shifts in a way that he can plant a kiss on your head.

"Was that good?"

You nod, a familiar heat rising in your cheeks. Gods that felt fucking magical, and he barely did anything. You can only imagine how his cock will feel.

He chuckles lightly, coaxing you to sit back and reveal your pretty face. He drags the backs of his fingers down your cheek, memorising each fine detail. Deep down, a small part of him fears this will be the last he'll ever see of it.

In one movement, Harwin stands and gingerly lowers you onto the fur rug in front of the fire, the flames dancing dangerously close. He knows how much you love the heat.

You gaze up at him, allowing him the opportunity to worship you. His large hands slip under your shirt, dragging the material as he roams every inch of your side. You arch your back and raise your arms, allowing easier access to glide the shirt off.

Goosebumps erupt under his hardened callouses, his fingers interlocking with yours once he moves up your arms and allows the shirt to bunch above your head. "Keep them here," he murmurs, capturing your lips.

You figure he means your hands, nodding against his mouth. His tongue invades your mouth, his breath becoming your own and his fingers flexing at the sheer taste of you. You have no idea how much power you wield over him.

His hands begin their descent, grazing your flesh and finding solace on your breasts, his mouth following suit. You grab onto the edge of the fur rug, gripping it firmly.

His tongue flicks your erect nipple, his teeth meeting the tender flesh. He nips and sucks around the area, a hand paying attention to your other breast, careful to administer equally. You gasp and writhe under him, unaware that he could bring you any pleasure from this.

Eventually, he moves on, stopping at your waistline. He flickers up to you, a silent ask of permission in his eyes. You give an airy yes, anticipation gnawing at you. Harwin pulls your pants and undergarment in one motion, the cool air causing you to jump.

He laughs softly, grinning at your nakedness, at the way your skin glows under the firelight. Right now, you're all his, his to take, to touch and love. His mind captures this moment, storing it away for a time when he plans on replaying it over and over.

"How do you feel, Princess, knowing you're about to be my dessert."

Your eyes brows raise at the comment, unsure of his hidden innuendo. A dark part of Harwin relishes in the fact that it's him, that gets to taint you. That he's the one to open the gates to a whole new world of pleasure. He plans on ruining you for any other man.

"What are you doing?" You ask more in curiousness than fear. Of all your lessons, the Septas never mentioned a man putting his head between your legs.

"I'm dining on my Princess, is that alright with you?" A dark glint shines in his eyes from between your thighs, his beard grazing your soft flesh. You whimper, biting your lip and giving him the go-ahead.

You suck in a deep breath at the first contact of his tongue, your body seizing. Fuck. You throw your head back in a silent moan, Harwin's mouth ravaging you. His tongue explores your folds and clit, emitting all pitches of sounds from you.

Suddenly his hands snake around your thighs and grip you thoroughly, spreading them further around his head and giving him easier access. You squeal at the feeling of his tongue entering you, pumping in and out.

"Harwin," your knuckles have since turned white.

This is a high you never thought you could experience, the intensity hitting you like a wave. The combination of his tongue, his lips and his beard is enough to drive you over. Of course, Harwin intends for you to be fully prepared, momentarily coming up to gauge your reaction as he pushes a finger into you.

You release a deep groan at the intrusion, the pleasure brewing. He takes his time, moving in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger at the same time his thumb rubs your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to do anything but writhe under his hand. Gods you wish you could put your arms down and grab him, show him how good he's making you feel. Harwin spreads his fingers carefully, intently studying your reaction. He wants you prepped as best as possible, wanting your first-time pain-free.

With all these motions and pleasantries you fall over the edge, calling out his name. Harwin continues his movements for a second longer before removing his hand, allowing you to come down from your high.

He skims over you, capturing your lips and emptying your lungs. You instantly wrap your arms around him, eager to keep him close. He grinds himself into you, allowing you a moment to feel how hard he is.

You lick your lips whilst you watch him undress, tossing his clothes somewhere before diving straight back down to you. You barely get a chance to admire his hard-earned body, instead running your fingers deep into his back muscles.

"Give me your hand," he guides it down, wrapping it firmly around his cock. You suppress a giggle at his involuntarily deep groan. "This is what you do to me," he says your name. "This, and so much more. You have no idea the kind of control that's in your favour."

You can't help but smirk. You leave your hand wrapped around him, a little unsure of what to do. "You take the lead, whenever you're ready." Oh. He means for you to put him in.

You glance down, hesitantly gliding to the tip, drawing it closer. "Can you help?" You have no fucking idea what you're doing.

His hand envelops your own, guiding it to you and nudging your opening. You suck in a deep breath, flickering up to his own deep blue eyes. He leaves you to your own devices, gritting his teeth at every inch.

The feeling is unlike anything you've ever experienced. For the time being, it's uncomfortable and unnatural, your body's initial reaction to close your legs and get him out of you. But you don't, removing your hand and granting Harwin the opportunity to ease in.

"Harwin." You grunt, clawing at his shoulders.

"You're doing so well, taking me so well." He praises, finally stopping once he's filled you. As time passes, your body begins to relax, climatizing to having his cock stretch you open.

"Move, please move." You strain, wanting this first part to be over with.

He does, slowly rocking out and in, the slight pain shifting to pleasure, your deep breaths becoming short. You have no idea what to do besides lay here, wrapped around Harwin as he thrusts into you, restraining himself from fucking you into the rug.

That will be for later.

For now, he intends on showing you a softer, gentler side of him, one where he tenderly brings you to release.

He fists the fur beside your head, his other hand on your hip as he steadily moves within you, your back arching slightly when he reaches parts of you, you never thought he'd reach.

You bring a hand to his face, brushing a part of his curls back and revealing his prominent features, trying desperately to hold contact.

He uses the hold on your hip as leverage, lifting your hips ever so little when he ruts into you, eliciting all frequencies of sounds from you. Your walls begin to clench around him, alerting him of your impending orgasm.

Slipping his hand over, Harwin teases your clit, eager to really please you. With this being your first time, your climax quite quickly, Harwin's name falling from your lips.

You gasp at his sudden eviction, a small part of you wondering if that was it. Harwin soon answers, scooping you up off the ground and planting you beside the fire, your front pressing against the wall. Thankfully the fire leaves it warm.

"Harwin, what are you-oh fuck!" You cry out at his sudden intrusion, entering from behind.

Harwin leaves no space between you, your legs spread to give him better access and a hand weaving through your hair and pulling your head to the side. "You wanted this, Princess, and you'll take it." He grunts into your ear, his thrusts hitting sharply. "But don't worry, you'll find yourself soon enjoying it."

You almost flutter around him, the words sinking in and leaving you in a hot and bothered state. His guttural voice mixed with those cold, demeaning words.

In a way, he's not wrong, the new position causing all sorts of pleasures to tremble through your body; your nipples grazing the stone, his cock hammering into you and his dominant hands manoeuvring you like a whore.

You snake an arm around, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close. With your cheek melted into the stone wall, his breath moulds with your own, your lips dangerously near, yet not touching. You close your eyes, enjoying the brutal fucking and not to mention, Harwin's own grunting and groaning.

It brings you joy to know that he finds great pleasure in you.

"You have no idea what you've just done, allowing me the honour to be the first to have my way with you. It wasn't a smart move Princess because I intend to ruin you," it's as though his own words spur him on, harshly rutting into you and carving you into the wall. You can do nothing but take it, and endure his treatment.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I intend on breaking you in to my cock, destroying all hope for you to ever enjoy someone else." He lowers his voice almost menacingly. "No one will ever fuck you like I am."

You attempt a nod, knowing he's correct. As fucked up as it seems, you know that only Harwin can bring you to these highs. He's the only one you'll ever allow to treat you this way. Like an object, a vacant hole.

You know your close, your legs beginning to shake and your breath quickening. "Harwin, please," you whimper, once again not entirely sure what you're pleading for.

Whatever it is, you know he can grant it.

Somehow he hits a deeper angle, leaving you to cry out clenching around him. He falters for a second, close to spilling over himself. He so desperately wants to, but he's holding out. With the new tempo, you crumble, spilling around Harwin as he continues to thrust into you.

You whine against him, the overwhelming pleasure causing tears to prick in the corners of your eyes. He doesn't stop, only slowing as he whirls you around, picking you up by your thighs and clamping them to his waist.

"Gods," you moan airily, his cock ramming against your sensitive walls.

"The seven won't help you here." He muses, observing your expressions.

Amazingly enough, Harwin increases his tempo, similar to before. You choke, pawing at his chest. "Harwin I can't,"

"Yes you can, hey," he cups your jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. "One more, be a good girl and give me one more, you can do it."

You bite your lip at the pain beginning to throb, your body exhausted and to be honest, your pussy used. His dark eyes watch you, a hand coming down to press against your clit, helping in relieve that pressure building once again.

He groans your name, his other hand moving to brace against the skirting around the fireplace. With his strength and subconscious force, he breaks the corner of it. You barely react to the stone crumbling at his feet, more focused on climaxing for a third and final time.

He swallows your scream, the rush of you around him enough to bring him over, spilling his seed deep. You lean your head back, your chest heaving and no doubt your back scratched. You feel content, Harwin slumping into your shoulder, nuzzling your flesh.

"I never imagined it would feel like that," you say more to yourself, your fingers threading through his sweaty curls.

Harwin lifts his head. "It's never like that, Princess."

The wild winds blast through your hair, your dragon's head blocking the majority from hitting you smack bang on your chest. At this height, the force is unimaginable.

You slowly begin your descent, dreading the moment you land and go back to reality, your cruel reality. In these last few months, you were made to follow your sister during her tour, allowing the lords to put themselves forward for your hand, alongside Rhaenyra.

You scowled the entire time. A cold, blank sheet was over your face, your eyes narrowed and dark. You could burn your father for the agony he's put you through, refusing your one ask of him. He's strained his relationship with you.

As more and more days pass, you ponder the thought of running away, denouncing your blood and flying off into the distance, far from this heartache.

You know it's foolish, that you must uphold your duty, but fuck duty.

Your dragon lands smoothly, his large frame dwarfing you once you climb down, your hand brushing against his scales and his head. He growls softly, leaning into your palm and hoping to draw this time out. He's missed you, much like the dark-haired knight that only just received word of your arrival.

You and your sister returned in the night, and since dawn you've been up in the skies, forgetting the situation at hand for a while longer.

You gesture for the dragon keepers to guide your dragon back into his nest, turning swiftly and making your way up to the Keep. Eyes watch you, studying you with every step. Since your last conversation with your father, you've turned into a cold little bitch.

It's the only way you know to protect yourself.

Your steel gaze burns through anyone who makes contact, challenging them to speak their mind. You know of the rumours that spread, how you've turned down every suitor, how your attitude has changed and you are no longer the nice Princess.

You don't notice the deep blue eyes following your every move through the courtyard, studying your behaviour. A part of you wonders how your first interaction would be, having not spoken a word to him since that night.

After he helped you dress, you snuck back into your room riddled with guilt. Suppose you came to your senses, realising exactly what you'd just done. But somewhere, you didn't care, you still don't. The next day you prepared yourself to send him away, should he come looking, but he never did.

And then you left, following your sister around Westeros.

"Have you seen him?" Rhaenyra sidles up to you, accompanying you to your quarters where you must prepare for the large feast. Your father has organised a large gathering where he can personally meet both of your suitors.

"No." You answer plainly.

You confessed the incident to Rhaenyra, trusting her to keep it to herself. She has and is more excited for the two of you to speak than you are.

"We should have you dressed your best tonight, show him what he's had a taste of, and what he's no doubt missing."

You roll your eyes, looping an arm through hers. She's been your rock through the whole ideal with your father, understanding both sides, yet gravitating towards yours.

Rhaenyra takes the opportunity to order your ladies as she sees fit, demanding your hair be styled up to accentuate your chest and collarbone, as the dress she picks is an off-the-shoulder. The black and red material falls to the floor, the sleeves being a cape, tying to the bodice only at the shoulder and leaving your arms to be either hidden or shown.

The dress plunges down your breasts, opting for a revealing look, courtesy of Rhaenyra. She finishes it off with a dragon-like necklace, alluding to the animal protecting your neck. Throughout the design, scales to represent your house has been embroidered, making it one of a kind.

Your sister's dress is similar, in the revealing sense. The both of you are definitely pushing your father's buttons, and you have no care.

The hours past by swiftly, and soon it's time to present yourselves. You walk side by side to the great hall, an anxious tug pulling within your stomach. You can't help but wonder how the evening will play out, and just what will happen with Harwin.

The great doors swing open, Rhaenyra being introduced first as she's the heir, and you second. Your heart rate quickens with each step, hundreds of eyes staring. You debate whether to search for his, your pace faltering as you connect.

Gods be fucking damned, he looks divine.

Your mouth dries at his black attire, at his curls being pulled back and revealing his defined features. It seems he's had a similar thought, dressing his best.

So many words portray through your eyes, so many thoughts and emotions. His jaw flexes as you draw near, his seat being close to the high table. The rest of the room fades, his gaze agonisingly slowly moving down your body, images of your naked figure coming to mind.

He pauses at your breasts, subconsciously moistening his lips before he flickers up to your face. He inhales sharply. These past months have done you justice, or you've simply become a woman since he had his share of you.

Your exchange doesn't go unnoticed, by both of your fathers.

Rounding the high table, you opt to take your seat, unlike Rhaenyra who greets Viserys before joining you. Neither of you bothered for Alicent, who flares daggers at you in particular. She normally leaves you alone, yet since the altercation with your father, she guns for the both of you.

You keep silent through the speech, given by your father, focusing on the detail of the cloth before you. A burning sensation spreads through you, almost like a sixth sense, sensing a pair of eyes boring into your skull.

You clench your jaw, preparing to scare them off when you pause. It's Harwin, unable to keep his eyes off you. Your skin heats up, your thighs pressing together. Fuck, the effect he has on you.

Viserys takes his seat, the people either beginning to eat or taking to the dance floor, music filling the air. You decide to eat, keeping your attention locked on your plate, desperate to finish it before you go looking for Harwin. You want answers, and one way or another you'll get them.

At some stage a young lordling braves the high table, asking for your hand. You pause your chewing, your eyes venomous. "As you can see, my lord, I have yet to finish my meal," you gesture to the full plate.

The boy's cheeks redden, and quickly he excuses himself. You scoff, resuming your meal with your eyes scouring the hall. You watch the people dance, eventually ditching your plate and leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing at Harwin's empty place beside his brother.

You find him amongst the crowd, his attention on a young maiden. Or so you thought, until his gaze flickers up to you, before averting again.

He wants to play that game.

Rising, you round the high table and descend the small flight of stairs, accepting the first person to offer a dance and joining everyone else. At first, you attempt to pay attention to your partner, your bodies moving in partial sync across the floor.

It's not until you spin outward, that you notice Harwin, now with a different girl.

With each movement, you glance over at him, a shadow of annoyance covering you as you realise he refuses to acknowledge you.

You inhale deeply, deciding to ignore your heart's biggest ache and try to enjoy your time without him. You switch partners, losing sight of Harwin as the night progresses. You've lost sense of yourself, spinning and moving to the flow of the music, changing partners every so often that you have no idea who each one is. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes alight. You haven't had this much fun in a while, the suitors flocking to you for a chance to dance.

Your current partner twirls you around, his grip firm and unwavering. For the first time, he matches you, each movement sturdy and confidence clear in his steps. He makes for a great dance partner. You can't help but laugh as he draws you to him, only to raise his arm over your head and redirect you.

His hand slips from yours, signalling a partner change, and you spin to stop in someone's chest. You instinctively brace yourself on his chest, an apology on your lips as you glance up. "Ser Harwin," you breathe his name.

"Princess," he curtly acknowledges.

His chest tightens at your appearance, wide and excited eyes, wisps of hair falling from their place and framing your face. Not to mention, your delicate hands still pressed to him, leaving only a splinter of a gap between you.

You follow his gaze, realisation dawning. You go to remove yourself from him, when his own hands cover yours, gently plucking them off his chest. You expect him to let go, throw you aside and move on, but he doesn't.

Harwin grasps your hands, leading you into the next dance. You follow him, lost within the depths of his blue eyes, so many words threatening to tumble out. You move fluently, matching his pace.

"Harwin," you say lowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Don't." Your brows furrow, your chests pressing together as you both move in. "Just don't say anything."

You scoff. "You expect us to dance in silence?" He says nothing, despite the electricity sparking around you. "I've been gone for months and this is how treat me?"

"What do you want me to say?" He grits.

"Anything!" You say a little loudly, breaking contact to stare at his house emblem stitched to his chest. You sigh, closing your eyes. "Why didn't you come to see me?"

"My apologies, Princess, I didn't realise I was your lap dog."

You snap up to him. Fire burns within your hard stare. "What is your problem? Why are you like this?"

He raises an eyebrow, extending you away from his body, only to snap you back to him. You collide with his chest harshly, flashbacks of that night coming to your forefront. Reminders of how easily he dominates you.

"Are you so dense, Princess, that you can't see your actions have consequences."

You gape at him, matching his hard levelled glare. "Careful Ser, anyone else and I'd have their head." Normally, Harwin would never dare speak so freely, yet at this moment the mere presence of you sets him alight. He grunts in response to your warning.

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling deeply to keep the dragon at bay. The last thing anyone needs is for you to boil over and explode. "What actions are you speaking of?"

You honestly have no idea what he's referring to. "Ahh, so you're ignorant as well. Tell me again why you came to me that night, why you begged,"

"I did not beg!" You almost growl. Fuck he makes you angry, almost rivalling your father at this moment. Your veins simmer, your stomach twisting in rage. "I told you why-"

"I don't believe you." Harwin cuts you off. He lowers his face, so close to your own. His breath bares down on you, his lips dangerously near, yet Harwin's movements are calculated. There's no warmth in his eyes. "I think someone got angry at daddy, and decided to get back at him using me."

You freeze. You never expected him to say that, to call you out. "Harwin," you start, desperation filling you. You need to explain yourself, to make him understand.

Betrayal flashes across him, his back straightening. "Good evening, princess." He spits out your title, removing himself from you entirely.

"Harwin," you choke, reaching for him when a figure steps in front of you. You barely give the man a glance before you intend on following the knight.

"If I may, Princess?"

You ignore the man offering his hand for a dance, staring off at Harwin as he makes his way through the crowd and exits the hall. Distress floods you, your body shaking as you fight the urge to heave.

You feel sick.

"Sister, are you alright?" Rhaenyra notices, immediately coming to your side. You can't say anything, darting between her and where Harwin just left. She nods in understanding. "Go, I'll tell father you're feeling ill."

You squeeze her hand gratefully, before making your way toward a different exit, with a plan of cutting him off. You have vague ideas of where he would go. With everyone in the hall, it leaves the corridors vacant.

Picking your dress up at the knees, you pick up a run, your shoes hitting the floor lightly as you intend on making minimal noise. Blood roars in your ears, your heart pumping erratically.

You round corners, desperate to slip out of the Keep before anyone realises. Finally, you enter the gardens, stopping when you spot Harwin storming his way toward you, unaware of your presence.

You step into his view, flinching as he stops dead in his tracks. He goes to speak, but you beat him to it. "I am to speak, and you are going to listen." You raise a finger, keeping him rooted whilst you close the distance.

You stand dangerously close, your chest heaving and your hair falling to your shoulders. "Yes, I came to you because I was furious because I knew that it'd destroy my father much as he'd done to me. He asked what it would take to contain me, and I voiced a marriage of my own free will. He refused." Harwin stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides. "But I came to you-"

"Because you knew I'd do it. You took advantage of my affections for you, you used me!" Harwin raises his voice, his emotions controlling him. You deny it, trying to explain yourself when he talks over you. "You have no idea how I felt the next morning when my own gold cloaks told me that the King was to select your hand. You shattered me," you close your eyes at the sound of your name leaving his lips with such pain, tears building.

"Yet you have such a fucking hold on me that I stupidly offered my hand."

Your eyes fly open, meeting his own despite the darkness. The bright moon shines down, lighting the area as best as possible. "You," you drawl, comprehending his words.

"Yes, and I had to endure your father and his court's laughter."

"But your his Hands son-first born son! Heir to Harrenhal!"

He chuckles darkly. "Exactly, all I have to offer you is a half-burnt castle, courtesy of your ancestors."

You can't fathom that your father didn't even consider Harwin, that he belittled him. He has no idea what he's done.

"Harwin," he shivers. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. What my father did is cruel,"

"A trait that runs in the family."

A tear slides down your cheek, defeat seeping in. It seems no matter what you say, Harwin refuses to hear. After a heartbeat of silence, Harwin moves to round you, pausing at your palm coming into contact with his chest. The feel of him sends a shiver down your spine.

Harwin slides your hand off as if you've burnt him, continuing on his path. An intense wave of pain surges through you, obliterating every part of you without remorse. Your chin trembles, your mind steaming at you to stop him, to fuck the protocols and policies.

You open your mouth to call out, to tell him the truth but it falls short in your throat, lodged well. You fear for what happens when you lay yourself bare, what he'll say and do.

"I'm in love with you."

Harwin completely seizes, as if he was close to falling off a cliff.

"I came to you, because deep down I knew my father would never approve, especially of us marrying." With each word Harwin approaches you, his body weightless. "So I decided that before I became caged and forced into a dull marriage, that I'd take control and choose who takes my virtue. That I'd lay with the man that I love, even if it were for a night."

Harwin stands directly behind you, his front pressing against your back, his breath on your neck. "If you're lying to me,"

You turn to face him. "You think I'd allow anyone to treat me like a whore?"

A flicker of understanding passes between you. How he manoeuvred you, how he controlled you like a puppet and fucked you against the wall without mercy.

"What do you know of being a whore?"

You tilt your head, standing on your toes to brush his cheek. "I know I'd let you do whatever you want, so long as it pleases you."

Harwin inhales sharply, his body itching for you. He murmurs your name, his voice trembling and his restraint slipping. He allows his fingers to loosely hang off your hips, drawing you closer.

Your mouth ghosts his, the temptation seeping in. You move your arms to his neck, threading your hands through his hair. Harwin groans, his hooded eyes burning through you, his control snapping.

He captures your lips, his grip on you tightening and his palms travelling every inch of your back, one of them ending up in your hair, the other on your neck. You whimper softly, Harwin using the opportunity to slip in his tongue and ravage you properly.

You're powerless against him, the lack of oxygen having its effect on your brain. You feel him move you backward, directing you through the garden until you stand flush to a wall, out of sight. Harwin found this hidden spot behind the bushes when he was a young lad, oft venturing here as he grew older to escape his reality.

He skims down the skirt of your dress, lifting it to cup your pussy. You whine, pulling apart to lean your head into the brick. Harwin smirks at your state, his palm moving in circular motions.

"Your drenched Princess. How long have you been like this?" He taunts you.

"Since I laid eyes on you," you answer airily.

Harwin hums in satisfaction, removing your undergarment and tapping the inside of your thigh to signal you step out of it. A chill shudders down your spine in realisation; Harwin plans on having you against this wall, where anyone could easily happen upon you.

"Hold this," he refers to your skirts, bunching the front into your stomach. You do as he says, biting your lip as he works to remove himself.

Harwin pauses, his cock hard and throbbing in his hand. "Tell me you want this," he rasps.

"I want you to fuck me."

A cold smile tugs at his lips, "as my princess commands."

He nudges into you, giving you a moment before he slides all the way in. You tense, having only had him months ago and nothing since. It doesn't exactly hurt, it feels uncomfortable, like he should be there but he is.

You grapple with his shoulders, hissing once he reaches the hilt, filling you with every inch of him that you can take. He shudders at your walls clenching around him.

Slowly he eases out and in, working you to a steady rhythm as to make sure he won't hurt you, that you've accustomed to him. You have.

He slams his hand onto the wall beside your head at the same time his hips rut into you. Your mouth opens in a silent groan, your forehead pressing against Harwin's as he intends to watch you.

Each thrust is intentional, his cock hitting as deep as possible and his slow but hard movements driving you crazy. Your whimpers and small sounds spur him on, a hand on your hip to help leverage him into you.

Though he's fucked you before, you still have no idea what to do, not wanting to just stand here and take his brutal pace. You remember how it felt to have your legs around his waist, how he was able to hit deep angles and completely fill you.

Lifting a leg up, you hook your ankle around his waist, Harwin instantly shifting. His hand glides down to your thigh, keeping it locked to him and his hips drive deeper into you.

You begin to feel that burn within your abdomen, brewing with each thrust, especially as he switches to almost completely vacating you before he hits home. You cry out, Harwin instantly covering your mouth.

"Quiet Princess, otherwise this ends very quickly." Harwin grunts, referring to someone potentially finding you.

You attempt to nod. He doesn't exactly trust your control, keeping his palm where it is as he continues to piston out of you, his heavy pants signalling how close he's getting.

You dig your heel into his lower back, so close to falling over the edge, desperate for him to follow. Harwin glides his hand from your thigh to your clit, paying particular attention to the bundle of nerves and the added sensation being enough for you to climax.

Your moan is muffled, Harwin's hips faltering at the feeling of you gushing around him. His own restraint slips, his cock ramming into you one last time, his seed spilling. His head falls to your shoulder, his hand slipping from your mouth to rest on the side of your head.

Your chest heaves, a slight sense of fatigue threatening to wash over you. "I hate you, with every fibre of my being." He whispers into your skin, his lips grazing your exposed collarbone.

"I know." You reply, your mouth dry as you run a caressing hand over his hair. You don't know what to do from this point onward, whether you and Harwin go your separate ways or you fight for him.

It ultimately falls on him.

"I would burn this fucking city to the ground for you," you murmur, wanting him to comprehend just how much he plagues you, how much he wields you, how nothing else matters in this lifetime but him. Hesitantly, Harwin lifts his head, unprepared for the serious glint in your eye. "Don't give up on me, not yet."

"Then don't leave me."

Your lilac eyes shine with fire and determination. "Never. I love you too much," he looks away, releasing a heavy breath as though he doesn't believe you. "Hey," you grab his face, forcing him to meet your stare. "I have loved you, since I was a girl. You, are why I hate my status. If I were a lower-born daughter, we could have wed a long time ago, without the burden of our duties."

"Show me," his words are barely audible, but you catch them. Show me.

Steadily you lower your leg from his waist, ignoring the slight irritation from your hips and sudden blood flow. His soft cock slips from you, hanging limp. Pushing down the nerves that erupt along your body, you sink to your knees, glancing up at him through your lashes.

A flicker of surprise passes over Harwin. He didn't exactly mean this. Though he'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity.

"You're the only man I'll get on my knees for," you quip, tentatively wrapping your fingers around his cock.

Harwin hisses at the contact, his hand bracing himself against the wall. You allow instinct to take over, cautiously pumping him, studying Harwin's reactions. His lips part, his breath becoming heavy with each glide, his cock hardening under your touch.

"Am I doing it right?" You ask nervously, unsure of what else you could be doing to him.

"Princess," he grits, his fingers curling into a fist above you. "You keep that up and I won't be able to last."

Your cheeks flare at his comment, your thumb brushing over his inflamed head. Harwin grunts under your ministrations, his other hand flexing as he withholds the urge to grip your hair.

"Can you teach me, how to use my mouth?"

Harwin's eyes fly open, instantly finding your own. "You don't have to, what your doing is just fine."

"But I want to," you pause your movements, looking up at him expectantly. "Either teach me or I'll learn myself."

His eyebrows rise to his hairline. "You are a determined thing, aren't you?" You scowl, gently tightening your grip on him. "Alright alright," he repeats, his body stiffening. "Put it in, and for the love of the seven, don't use your teeth."

A wicked grin spreads across your face, setting Harwin on edge as you take him into your mouth, inwardly cringing for a moment. Harwin shudders, his hip's reflexively jutting forward.

"Just," he pants, at the mere feeling of his cock inhabiting your mouth. "Move like you were before, and use your tongue."

Your brows furrow slightly, hesitantly gliding along his cock and back down, dragging your tongue on his underside. He groans, his hand coming to your hair and threading it. How he so desperately wishes to face fuck you, but he won't. Not until you're his.

You bob your head, following Harwin's instructions as he guides you to bring him to a climax, his leverage on your head allowing him to gingerly rut his hips into you. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes closing in pleasure.

An idea flickers, your tongue swirling around his swollen head and your hand wrapping around the base of him, a small smirk threatening to spread as Harwin stammers.

You feel powerful, knowing that your mere mouth can bring Harwin to this state, his moral restraint close to breaking like the chains kept around your dragon.

Harwin calls your name, his cock twitching in your mouth. He's close, dangerously close and he fears that if you don't stop, he won't pull out in time. You remember how he felt you near your climax the night he disappeared between your thighs, sucking gently on your clit to bring you over.

You wonder if the same applies to him.

You move to his tip, gently sucking. Harwin cries out at the unexpected sensation, forcing his hips forward and ultimately thrusting his cock further into your mouth as he shatters.

You squeak, his seed filling your mouth and slipping down your throat. You can't help but cringe at the taste, pulling off him to wipe your mouth.

Slowly raising, you observe Harwin's state, as he comes down from his high. He releases a heavy breath, his senses clearing. A sense of pride runs through you, for being able to please him as he did to you.

Being with a man, is not at all what the Septas told you.

Harwin grabs the underside of your jaw, pulling you up to him. You fist his jacket, a small moan escaping you when his tongue slips in. He doesn't care that he can taste himself.

He steals your breath, your lungs aching and that familiar burn searing through your abdomen. He reluctantly pulls back, his forehead leaning on yours, his lips feathering you, refusing to completely stop.

"Harwin," you whisper, your hands sliding to his neck, playing aimlessly with his loose curls. "What are our next moves?"

"Hmm?" He hums absentmindedly, too lost in the feeling of your cheek against his. He nuzzles you, an act of intimacy that even fucking you couldn't compare to.

You chuckle, deciding to leave it and enjoy the moment, as much as the two of you should plan out the next steps.

"You're mine," he says lowly, his gravelly voice sending chills down your spine. "And I'm yours."

You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "You've ruined me for anyone else."

Tag List: @iwillboilyourteeth @sageshorrorblog @gibbsgirl7 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @missusnora @jdm-traash @happynerdtale @westeros-needs-me @killthedarkthoughts @stardustdragon9 @my-watch-begins @ietss @znanaworm @fulla02

#ser harwin x reader #harwin strong smut #harwin strong x reader #hotd #ser harwin strong #ryan corr #harwin strong imagine

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dearbraus · 5 months

Text

Covered in the Colour of You ࿐

— Armin Arlert

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, cisfem reader (use of girl as reference to the reader), reader's hair gets combed through, reader wears a nightgown, post-canon exploration of characters and setting, reader is mentally ill (so is Armin), hunger as a metaphor for desire, love as consumption, love confessions, first times (Armin is a virgin, Reader is not), first kisses, sex on a table, some foreplay, unprotected sex, creampies, ambiguous ending, angst, hurt/some comfort, childhood friends to lovers. ⊹ Run time. 10k ⊹ Note. I don't know how we got here but I'm glad we did. This was meant to be a cute comfort fic to deal with the ending of Attack on Titan but it became so much more, I hope you enjoy.

❝A surprise visit from your childhood friend, Armin Arlert forces you to confront the feelings you've been harbouring for over a decade..❞

The Jägerist’s cries are deafening, they bounce off the clay brick walls of the surrounding houses and slither through your shuttered window panes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the newly minted Paradis military regiment convenes in the small town square within the rebuilt city of Shiganshina. It took them just under a month to replace the fallen with green boys and girls who were just buzzing at the idea of honouring Eren Jäger and avenging his death. Once Paradis managed to secure the resources– if there were any left– you were certain that the military would erect a bronze statue of Paradis’ “saviour”. For now, they’d bother napping babies and the elderly folk who milled about the area to soak in some of the sun’s sweet warmth.

Today they seemed to be reminding those who’d spare an ear to listen, that traitors would soon shore and with them came treasonous falsehoods. If not for Queen Historia who still harbours some morsel of affection for her old comrades, they’d be as good as dead the moment their ship docked. Word spread quickly, how you weren’t sure, but like wildfire the claim that Armin Arlert had been the one to kill Eren Jäger scorched the plains and further sowed the seeds of instability amongst the population.

The irony of such a ludicrous statement was not lost on you. Armin Arlert couldn’t kill Eren Jäger, they were best friends and all of Shiganshina knew there could not be one without the other. You had known the two almost as long as they had known each other. Shiganshina wasn’t so big in those days, Grisha Jäger was the only doctor and Armin’s father was something of a handyman. They were who you called upon when something was amiss and you’d thank them with a warm meal or something sweet. That was what you did in those days, you showed kindness wherever you could. They were so simple, those days when the walls kept secrets and our minds were shrouded with ignorant bliss. Some mornings when you woke before the sun had yet risen, you wished Paradis could have remained tucked safely beneath the blanket King Fritz had pulled over the island.

What little sense of communal affection remained dwindled with calls to action that erupted from the square.

This morning, the sense of longing that had settled between your lungs weighed heavily as you listened to the shouting. You wished the clock would turn back and the next time you woke, you’d be ten years old and the house you lived in would be your home. It was sort of a sick joke, to be given the keys to the house built upon the rubble of your family's home. Floch handed you the keys as if he had done you this great personal service when it had been Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and their friends who had dug through the wreckage to salvage the home they too had lost. Vagrancy was tiring and what little money you had to your name after years of working for meagre wages that just barely covered your expenses, maybe you should have been grateful to at least collect a few pieces of your life before even if they jagged and misshapen. Something was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

It had to be.

There needed to be some reason for you to keep going. Lately, there didn’t seem to be any. Everything felt wrong. The once-cobbled streets were made of smooth even stone that allowed you to bounce around the city with ease, it reminded you of the capital. As a child, you often felt jealous that Wall Sina was home to such niceties while you were made to trip over protruding stones and wade through mud puddles in the wet months. Now though, you’d give anything for a semblance of a distant past that would make Shiganshina home once more. But as you lingered around your old haunts, searching for familiar faces and memories that would ease the pain in your chest, all you’d find was something new and foreign that left you feeling disappointed.

Turning over onto your side you curled inwards, a soft sigh passing your lips as you willed your mind to banish the longing that gnawed at you. The cool breeze that glides through your window leaves goosebumps on the bits of flesh that aren’t being swaddled by your thin white blanket. All the battle cries seemed to have simmered down as the sun inched closer toward the middle of the sky. You might be able to catch the morning market before they pack up their wares for the day if you leave now. Your icebox was pathetically empty, with only a head of rapidly wilting lettuce and milk to occupy the space. Sitting upward with a yawn, you cast a glance toward your dresser. Your clothes hang sloppily over the side of the open drawers. You should probably tidy things up before the hour grows too late.

The sleek, mousy brown floorboards that make up the second story of your house do not creak as you pad across the room—your chest aches, though you’ve grown desensitised to the familiar feeling. Your house used to creak and groan when the wind blew too roughly, and the walls were thin enough that you’d wake to the sound of your mother humming as she prepared breakfast for your family. You tried not to dwell too hard, if anything you should have been relieved. An unexpected storm wouldn’t dare to blow the roof off your house now.

Plucking the soft, brown wool knit cardigan off the lip of your cracked door you slipped the fabric over your body. Your delicate muslin nightgown did little to keep the morning chill away. It did even less to preserve any ounce of modesty. Your bare feet slapped against the stairs as you headed downward, and a soft knock sounded at your door. Pulling your cardigan closer to your body you sighed. It must have been Mrs. Bergmann from next door coming to check on you, make sure you left your house this week, let in some fresh air– function as any other human would, that sort of stuff. She had been widowed long ago, her only son had been one of the many scouts to give his life for a free Paradis. There wasn’t much for her to do aside from checking in on her neighbours. She was a wife, a mother– it was in her nature to nurture all the little lost souls she came across.

“I’m coming Mrs. Bergmann,” You called, your voice echoing around the empty space that would have been your living room, “You don’t need to call in Werner to bust down the door just yet!”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you prepared yourself to open the door. Mrs. Bergmann was well-meaning on the best of days, if a little nosey on the worst. It was better to have someone than no one at all, you remind yourself, pushing back the urge to blanche and roll your eyes at the urgency of her knocking. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you hope your hair wasn’t too gnarly after all the tossing and turning you did last night. The door opens with a soft click as you twist the knob open.

Shock blows through you as you blink at the person on the other side. Your eyes frantically open and close, trying to make sense of who stood before you but as your synapses fired off round after round, searching for something, they found nothing.

“Armin?” You timidly ask, your throat twists up and grows dry.

The syllables on your tongue felt wrong. Maybe, the muscles had just forgotten how his name tasted. As a child, his name rolled off your tongue sweetly and constantly. Back then, there had been too many emotions packed inside your small body, you could never make sense of them, all you knew was that they all led back to the man in front of you. Your cheeks warmed at the reminder of the crush you used to harbour, of how you’d write your name and his, silently calling yourself Mrs. Arlert as if she hadn’t already existed in the form of his mother.

Armin’s cheeks grow round with the shy smile he wears, “Hi,” he says. The remnants of his boyhood live in the soft curve of his jaw and the cherub-like softness of his rosy complexion.

“Hi,” you breathlessly whispered as you searched for any other lingering signs of familiarity.

“May I come in?” he asks, his nervous hands smooth imaginary wrinkles in his sage green tie. The breath is selfishly stolen from your lungs by the greedy, monster who lived inside of you. They swallowed back the traces of your youth, you hoped it was enough to placate them because as long as your breath was hitched, no words could come forth.

Armin’s blue eyes curiously peered back at you from beneath his pale blonde lashes. He was still quite pretty, but the edge of maturity that marred his features made your heart flutter in a way it never had. The desperate longing that clawed at your rib cage slowed, pawing instead as its interests morphed into something more amorous. You would have beaten it down if you could, shame prickles your skin as you clear your throat.

“Of course,” you stutter, opening the door to make room for him to enter, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting any guests this morning.”

His smile is polite, “What about Mrs. Bergmann?” He inquires, his eyes darting around to drink in the interior of your house. It looked just like the one he was raised in but it had been twelve years since he stepped foot in one. The scouts lived in barracks that were carved out of long-since abandoned castles, “You seemed to be expecting her.”

“Ah, not exactly,” you muttered, offering him a seat at your dining table, “She’s just the only visitor I have as of late … So, what brings you by?”

Armin declines the seat, instead pulling out the chair opposite of him for you. You thank him with a small bow of your head. His knuckles brush against your shoulders as he slides his fingertips along the edge of your chair before swinging around to the other side. In a world of boys, Armin Arlert was a gentleman, as he always had been, even at the age of ten when boys took to tugging girls' pigtails for attention. His grandfather would be proud of the young man he’s become. You think Mr. Arlert would have been proud even if all Armin did was survive.

The warm yellow sunlight filters through the windows and turns Armin’s hair a shade of bleach blonde. His skin is tanned, his cheeks rosy. He looks healthy, he’s a bit taller too. His hair was different too now that you took a moment to look at it, only slightly so. The shaved undercut reminded you of the short, stoic captain whose charge Armin was in for years.

Insecurity stirred in your belly. You thought of what you might look like to him being so dishevelled in nothing but a nightgown and cardigan. Unkempt, that is how you must have appeared to him. The bike in your stomach burns at the back of your throat as you cross your legs and tuck as much of your body beneath the table as you can.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, resting his linked hands on the table, “It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

It’s been over four years, the bitter overly insecure voice in your head hisses, “It has, but you’ve been busy, saving the world and all,” you say instead, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, “Honestly I must confess, I'm a bit surprised, I thought you and the other ambassadors would be meeting with the Queen.”

What you truly mean to say dangles in the air. Armin can feel it, he shifts in his seat— why wasn’t he with someone more important? How did he manage to sneak past the Jägerists predatory gaze? He shouldn’t have been here. The anguish that wrought the shores of Paradis couldn’t be fixed with a measly conversation but surely, it was a start so, why was he here with you?

“She met our boat at the harbour to ensure our safe passage into the city,” he explains, picking at his fingers, “We’re still trying to coordinate with the army but they’ve agreed to allow free reign of Shiganshina so long as we remain unarmed.”

“It would be rather counterintuitive for peace ambassadors to bear arms.”

Armin lets out a small chuckle, smiling a bit to himself.

“But, they’ve already proved their incompetence in thinking trained soldiers need weapons to fight,” you muttered, casting your eyes away from him, “I … My apologies, I shouldn't speak ill of your comrades.”

“They’ve dissolved the Scout Regiment, I’m no longer a soldier and they are not my comrades,” Armin swiftly replies.

He fiddles with his tie again, flattening out the fabric with scar-riddled hands. The last time you saw him, his skin was surprisingly unmarred. Old scars you could have sworn imprinted his skin ceased to exist, something to do with his newfound titan ability, that’s what Eren said when he rolled up his sleeves to expose his own blemish-free body. It seemed unnatural then, for the pieces of personal history to be erased but Armin felt alien enough without you reminding him of how much he had changed.

“Yes, but-”

“How are you doing?” He interrupts, and an apologetic look swims within the depths of his baby blue eyes. His time in the military was a touchy subject, which was to be expected but it didn’t wash away the burn of curiosity that ribbed at your bones, “When I last wrote to Mikasa, she said she hadn’t seen you in some time in spite of being neighbours.”

Pursing your lips, you sigh, “I’m doing well Armin,” it’s a bald-faced lie but the two of you have become so estranged, Armin couldn’t know you the way he once did, not when so much time has washed the imprints you’ve pressed upon each other as it brought in the tide, “How are you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Armin frowns, the dip of his lips making his cheeks round in a way that reminds you that he is only twenty-two, “I haven’t seen you in four years, I … I want to know what your life is like.”

Reaching over the table, Armin takes your hand in his. If he notices the irritated and oozing flesh around your cuticles, he keeps it well hidden. Smoothing his thumb over your knuckles, Armin settles his eyes on yours, taking in the two little lines that have been carved into your skin from how often you furrow your brows. There was no “correct” way to tell someone that you spent most of your afternoons curled up in bed, lying listlessly as you listened to the sounds of the bustling street below. Armin had a penchant for worrying, he’d worry about your well-being when there were far more important issues for him to focus on.

“It’s not so different from before.”

Armin was unconvinced. Eight years ago, after the Scout Regiment took control of the central government, a bit of money was sent your way in addition to your rebuilt childhood home. Though they wouldn’t say it, you believed that Eren, Armin, and Mikasa felt guilty for abandoning you the moment they turned twelve thus becoming eligible to enrol in the Cadet Corps. You had no interest in joining the Scouts, Military Police, or the Garrison but Eren was determined and wherever Eren went so too did Mikasa and Armin. With no family and no friends, you had to fend for yourself. It wasn’t so bad. A woman, you could hardly remember her name now, paid you to care for her youngest child while she and her husband worked, and their older children attended school. She gave you room and board, fed you three square meals, and gave you “hand-me-downs” to wear.

In the chaos of Trost being breeched you became separated and weeks later learned that the family perished. You used what little money you managed to save to pay for board in an inn near Jinae where you worked as a stable hand until your childhood friends and their comrades came bearing gifts. You’d need to find work soon. Now that you were of age, you were sure to find a cushy job as a barmaid at the local tavern.

“You think it is?” You asked, biting on your bottom lip.

Armin nods. His grip tightens and he mutters a low, “Sorry” when you wince from how he accidentally squishes your fingers beneath his.

Shrugging your shoulders you think back to the before much like you did most days, “Paradis is being run by lunatics who worship a dead man,” you blanche, your chest preemptively tightening from your nerves, “That’s not so different to before when this shitty little island was run by lunatics who worshipped the walls.”

Except now, people actually paid mind to the chirping loons. They had access to weapons that could wipe out what was left of humanity and certainly were unafraid to use them. Crossing them would be a very stupid and very dangerous mistake. Bravery was what this island prided itself on, now the most one could muster was a contempt-filled glower that was sent in passing.

“That’s not …” Armin’s voice trailed off. There was that look of guilt again.

“I know.”

Lacing your fingers between his, you squeeze Armin’s hand.

“It’s not your fault, Armin,” you assure, your mouth twisting up into a strange smile. The muscles in your face seemed to ache as though you were contorting your expression, “You know that, right?”

He nods his head, and strands of his pale blonde hair fall against his forehead as he does, “I know,” he whispers with conviction though his hand trembles in yours. You remain unconvinced, guilt rolls off his shoulders in sickening waves.

“It’s not Eren’s fault either.”

You’re unsure why you say it. It was Eren’s fault. It was his name and his image that they fought for. Whatever politics happened behind closed doors did not matter, not when he died knowing that those men and women idolised him and would wage wars in his name. One spoiled fruit rotted away the entire crop and now Paradis was ready to cosign its doom, picking on the weakened and the damned as if this island had not once been just the same.

“Thank you,” Armin mouths, his voice barely audible as he clears his throat and replaces his expression with a friendly smile.

“I guess the trains are different,” you blurt, looking for a way to steer the sinking ship that was this conversation, “I’ll never get used to them, they’re so loud and dark inside.”

“Glad to know our hard work is being appreciated.”

You lift the corners of your lips to smile at him, “It is, the horses are very grateful to no longer be worked to the bone by merchants transporting goods from Maria to Sheena,” you say, nearly forgetting that there no longer was an interior or exterior to name, “Life here is still simple, Armin, there isn’t much to update you on.”

“Still-”

“We can’t all be heroes,” you jest, nudging his foot beneath the table, “So, tell me what is life like for you?”

Armin withdraws his hands from yours, “It’s all I talk about, I don’t want to talk about it with you,” he explains, swallowing thickly, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.”

Rising from your seat you round the corner of the small table to press the palm of your hand between his shoulder blades. The gesture is meant to be comforting but you feel awkward, like you shouldn’t be touching him like this though your body craved the knowledge of what his skin would like against yours. The tips of your fingers graze the edge of his crisp collar, you hastily jerk back, eyes narrowing to inspect the fabric for any unwanted crinkles you may have caused.

“I’ve been such a bad host,” you mutter, “My mother would be so disappointed that I haven’t asked you if you’d like anything to drink.”

“Tea if you have any, please.”

You nod again, you still have some dried chamomile that Mrs.Bergmann gave to you when you confessed to her that you struggled to sleep some days. The tea didn’t help but it was the thought that counted. Goosebumps trailed up the length of your bare legs and you cursed yourself for not excusing yourself to dress before you sat down with Armin. The early spring air wouldn’t warm until the late afternoon most days.

Armin’s gaze is heavy. He watches you flutter about your kitchen with keen intent. His eyes slither up your body in a methodical manner. You’re unsure if he’s leering the way men unabashedly do when they’re three pints in or if he’s searching for any indication that something might be amiss. You hope it’s the latter. It should be the latter, you didn’t feel uncomfortable and Armin wasn’t one to steal eyefuls of others.

“Do you still like it with milk and honey?” you ask, though you’ve already reached into the icebox in search of the milk you knew was in there. Hopefully, it hasn't yet spoiled.

You flinched when you rose to your full height. Armin had materialised behind you. The jug nearly drops from your hand but Armin is quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, overtop of your hand. He guides the jug to the counter and reaches an arm around you to take the teapot off the heat before it can release a shrill squeal.

Pressing your hand to your chest, you murmur a breathless, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Armin chirps.

His eyes bore into yours, he’s inspecting you once more. Whatever he’s in search of, you’re certain he isn’t going to find it. The girl that he once knew was not the same woman that stood before him, nor was he the same boy even if his eyes twinkled just the same. That was growing up. Your stomach grumbled, licking its chops as the wanting returned. Your eyes trickled down Armin’s face until they settled on his cupid's bow. His lips were full and a dusted pink colour. They were nice, you remember wondering what they’d feel like against yours if it’d hurt to kiss him after he’d bitten his lips raw with stress.

The sharp edge of the counter digs into the plush flesh of your hips as you press your body against it. Hunger is as frightening as it is all consuming. You are hungry. Are you hungry for him? You’ve craved and yearned for places and their people, but never their bodies. The one time you allowed a man in your bed it’d been out of curiosity and some twisted need to feel something, anything other than the dull twinge of melancholy that sprouted from the roots it planted in your heart.

Armin placed his hand on your chest where your heart was. The heat of his palm melted through the thin fabric of your nightgown, causing you to instinctively shiver, “Your heart is racing,” he comments, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No.”

“How is Annie?” You nervously ask, searching for a way to stifle the deluded desire that coursed through your veins, “Last I heard from Hitch, she had been freed from her crystal and joined you. That must have been exciting, being able to speak to her after so many years.”

His face crinkles up into a confused expression, “Annie is fine, they’re all fine. Connie and Jean are excited to see their mothers,” he replies slightly, cocking his head to the side, ��Why do you ask?”

You shrug your shoulders. Armin doesn’t remove his hand. Your heart skips a beat, you’re sure he feels it.

“Was just curious I guess, since I heard you had feelings for her.”

“Annie and I are friends, nothing more,” his nose crinkles, he seems to want to ask where you hear such a ludicrous rumour but doesn’t. When he wasn’t with the scouts, he was with her crystal, talking as if one day she might answer back.

“Oh.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Armin counters, his long pale lashes fluttering against his cheek as he blinks, “You’ve always been … quite the catch.”

His voice trails off, he regrets his wording. He didn’t want to liken you to fish or cattle but of all the vast information stored in his brain, there seemed to be nothing on complimenting women. Not that he’s done much of that in his lifetime. There’s never been a need to. Armin wants to compliment you, to tell you how he really feels but it gets clogged in his throat as he struggles to get a read on you.

Shaking your head, you avert your gaze.

It’s not for a lack of trying or wanting. None of the relationships you pursued ever felt right. Their hands didn’t fit within yours the way they were supposed to. Your body was hallowed out in the middle but they couldn’t fill you up. It wasn’t their fault. You’d accept that you were broken, someone who simply wasn’t meant to be loved. It was easy. Until now, when the one person your heart still clung to stood here and dangled himself like a carrot.

“Good, you’re too good for anyone on this island,” his proclamation makes your skin itch. Even if what he said were true, you would have to settle for someone on this island eventually, lest you spend the rest of your life as alone as you are now, “You deserve someone who’s good enough for you.”

You nearly laugh, though he makes this statement with such earnestness that you’re almost inclined to believe him. Almost.

“Who then?”

Looking into his eyes made your lungs ache. There was nowhere to escape with how he pinned you in place with his gaze.

“Who’s good enough for me?” You ask, your nails digging into the wood counter as you curl your fists around the lip of it, “You?”

Armin rolls his eyes and the sight alone shocks you, “No, I could never be good enough for you,” a laugh springs forth, crackling past your lips before you’re able to stop it, “Is something funny?”

His cheeks turn red with embarrassment but there's nowhere for him to hide either.

“No … Yes, actually,” you sigh, expelling all the air from your lungs as you muster up the resolve to be truthful, “I have loved for as long as I can remember and I have wanted you even before I even knew what love truly was.”

Your fingers coil around his wrist, intent on wrenching his hand away from your chest but the look in his eyes stops you. Sadness and self-loathing meet in the bright blue pools of his irises. You were born six months before he was but he’s always seemed years ahead of you. There was a certain kind of wisdom that surrounded him, you weren’t sure why. Now though, whatever maturity that shrouded Armin vanished and all that lay beneath was a newborn fawn that teetered on legs far too long for him.

Your nails dig into the cuff of his jacket, crinkling the pristine fabric, “There is not a day that goes by where I haven’t thought of you.”

“I’m no good for you either,” he says with a wet laugh. His eyes shone with welled up tears that had no business blurring his gaze.

“Because you’ve killed people?” You ask, your brows furrowing as you frown, “There are many people who have done worse for less. At least you had a reason.”

“I could never be the man that you need me to be.”

“Not even for an afternoon?” You had always known his future held more than your own, even before he became humanity's saviour. He’d make his peace with Paradis and leave, maybe he’d come back years from now, or maybe he’d plant his roots elsewhere.

His hand trembles as he shakes his head, “No.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he releases a shaky exhale. You bite back the urge to ask him once more why he was here. You were never that close as children, you were close in a way that all of Shiganshina was but never anything more than, at least nothing that would have meant this unannounced visit was appropriate.

“Why?”

“You should live a quiet life,” Armin whispers, his lips nearly grazing yours as they move to form each syllable, “A happy life, after all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

Your eyes flutter shut, “And you don’t?” It’s a stupid question, really, if he believed he did this conversation wouldn’t be happening, “You’ve been through far more than I, you’ve lost so much more.”

“I have even more to atone for.”

His bottom lip quivers as he presses the weight of his body into you. He’s heavier than you could have imagined, and his body is harder too. Somewhere between now and then his lithe frame melded into lean muscle and it serves as another reminder of how much time has passed, how little you two knew of each other now. Trailing your fingertips over his shoulder, you slide your arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. Armin shudders in your hold, a meek whimper slipping past his lips as he crushes his body into yours. Your nails press into the sliver of skin that peeks over the lip of his collar.

It's the nape of his neck.

When titans were simply the monsters that hid beneath your bed and plagued your dreams, it was common knowledge that the way to snuff them out was through the nape. It felt oddly vulnerable for your hand to roam over the smooth expanse of skin, though even as a titan shifter it was no weak spot, it may well have been with the way his body shook in your arms.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to live or to love,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, “You get to love now, you get to be loved. Armin, you’re allowed to have things and to want things even after all that has happened.”

Armin sniffles, pressing his nose in your hair. The scent of the lavender soap you’ve used for as long as you could remember still clings to your hair. You wonder if he remembers if that is why he burrows his face deeper until the tip of his nose and his lips brush against the skin of your neck.

Wanting was hard.

So little felt tangible and on the off chance it was, it remained just out of reach. Like a tease, that brushed your fingertips as you outstretched your arm before pulling away or a glimpse of the sun before an array of clouds moved in from across the sky. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted something. Whatever it was you felt for Armin simmered lowly on a back burner until now, longing did not serve survival. Still, you wanted him but not in the way magpies coveted shiny trinkets but in the way the stars longed for the moon. It was a constant, all consuming yearning that made your stomach twist inward at the strange sensation.

“I don’t even …” Armin trails off, his voice wet with emotion, “I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to desire something.”

Leaning back, Armin allows enough space for him to look at your face. His cheeks are pink, blotchy, and shiny with half dried tears that pooled atop the apples of his cheeks. Cupping your face with the palm of your hand, he smiles sadly at you.

“But, all I have wanted for years was to know what it is like to kiss you.”

Your body burns, not with embarrassment but something else.

“Is that all?” You ask.

The corners of Armin’s mouth twitch upward, “Maybe not but I let go of those dreams long ago.”

“You kept this one, why?”

“Wishful thinking, maybe or … ?” Armin says, scrunching his brows together as he trails off, “You’ve always been here, you’ve been a constant in this ever changing world so I suppose I hoped there’d be a day where I could …”

“Kiss me?”

Armin bashfully nods, biting his lip a bit.

The shiny metal kettle of water grows cold in the length of time you and Armin spend silently staring at each other. He assesses you, slowly, looking for any signs that your affection for him remained buried in the past. You spoke in the past tense, and your words were too easily misconstrued. Your hands slip to cup the underside of his jaw. All this waiting, all this thinking was maddening when you knew exactly what you wanted. His face replaced those of all the men you kissed, his body manifested in the throngs of taverns like an apparition to taunt you. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted anything else in this world.

His skin was warm to the touch, you’re sure yours is too. You feel warm like you’ve been dipped in melted candle wax. A bit of stubble tickles the palm of your hands and it makes you giggle. His hair is so fair, you didn’t even notice. Armin’s shoulders tense as you lean in, insecurity claws at your throat but you’ve already taken the leap. You were too far gone now to change your mind. Gently grazing your lips across his, you give Armin a chance to back away but he only leans in closer, his calloused thumbs bite into the soft edge of your jawline as he instinctively squeezes you.

Armin’s lips are slightly chapped and scabbed over in a way that tells you he still nervously chews them when he’s worried. He’s inexperienced, that you were expecting, not that you were particularly tactful with how you clumsily melded your mouth against his. Though, he didn’t seem to mind as he eagerly attempted to mimic each movement. The thread of want that coiled around your stomach roared, begging for your attention as pulled away.

The small noise of disappointment that gathers in the back of Armin’s throat does not fall deaf upon your ears. But, you feel ravenous. If you didn’t slither away now, you’d consume him, bones and all, before he’d even had the chance to register that you sunk your teeth into his sternum. You feel ravenous. It makes your skin itch. Your fingers twitched, they desperately wished to burrow themselves into his flesh to feel how his heart thrummed for you.

Through lidded eyes, Armin peers at you, “Just like I thought,” he says, his cheeks somehow deepening in colour.

“What do you mean?”

“One kiss and I’m gone,” he explains but that doesn’t smooth the confused furrow from between your brows, “I want more, I don’t know how I’m meant to live on knowing what it’s like to kiss and never being able to again.”

Your nose scrunches as you frown, “Say who?”

“Pardon?”

“Who said that I’d never kiss you again?” You ask, smoothing your thumb along the length of his stubbly jaw, “Because, I never said that.”

“I just thought-”

Looping your arms around his neck you sigh, “Stop thinking so much,” you whine, allowing yourself to relish in the knowledge that he too wanted more, “Sometimes things are far simpler than you make them out to be.”

Armin bashfully dips his chin for a moment, his heat filled gaze cast away which offers you some reprieve. Only for a short moment, though. He faces you once more in an instant. You can see it swimming in the pools of his irises, the want, the hunger. It’s something you never imagined to be reflected back to you, least of all from Armin. It thrills you all the same, your skin prickling with electricity that crackles to life when he reaches for your hips.

It’s gentlemanly, how he rests his hands respectively over your body with a feather light touch that may flee should you move too quickly. You want more though, you wish he’d take claim to you the way you the way your cunt ached for.

“Are they?”

You nod, fearing your voice would somehow betray you.

He too nods, far more thoughtful than you were, “You know, I loved you too, never had any doubts of what it was,” he muses, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, “It never faded either even when I lost and confused about what came next.”

His admission makes you bristle, your ears perking up in search of any misspoken syllables that may have deluded you. There were none. There was no mistaking what Armin had confessed. It doesn’t feel real. You’d pinch yourself if Armin’s watchful gaze was pointed anywhere but you. That alone was proof enough that this was very real, Armin just confessed his love for you.

“And you?” Armin asks.

“Huh?”

Your heart pounds, screaming over the sound of Armin’s voice. You suck in a shaky breath and will your heart to calm down. In all your years of wanting, of yearning, you never imagined what it would be like to have your feelings reciprocated. You assumed neither of you would live long enough for anything to come to fruition. But you could hope now, right?

“Did your feelings for me ever fade?”

“No … no, never,” admitting out loud that you pined after a boy for nearly two decades would have made you feel pathetic if it wasn’t Armin who pulled the truth from where it coiled around your ribs, “Even if I wanted them too, they never would. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I was made to love.”

You didn’t fancy yourself a dreamer. At least, not after everything was said and done. There wasn’t much to dream up, but if you were to dream or indulge you’d tell him that there could never be anyone else because your souls were tied together. It was a terribly selfish thought but it was true enough that you felt inexplicably tied to Armin. Even if this day passed and you never saw him again, your heart would remain his until you both returned to earth.

Armin kisses you before you’re able to backpedal on any of your words, almost shyly, but still eager enough that his need rolls off his body in waves and crashes into you. His nails press through the thin material of your nightgown to nip at your hips. You’re reminded of just how strong he has become in all your years apart when you feel his muscles ripple through his forearms.

“Armin,” you sharply whisper between the desperate press of his mouth to yours, “I want you.”

It’s an unfinished thought. There are too many words that could come next and not enough actions to convey what it is you want. Threading your fingers through carefully styled hair, you tug at the strands. Armin keens into your mouth, one of his hands shooting out to grasp the edge of the counter you were pressed against. Having braced himself, he’s careful not to put too much of his weight onto you as his body melts into yours.

“I’m right here,” he says, with a slight laugh.

Resting your forehead against his, you sigh, “I want you,” you repeat, untangling your fingers from his hair to fiddle with the top button of his shirt. You flick it open, slowly testing the waters. There’s a sparse patch of flaxen hair that leads your gaze past his collarbones, “I want to be close to you, close with you…”

Your whisper, wanton words did little to clarify what you meant, Armin’s confused stare was fixed on your swollen, kiss bitten lips. Popping open another button, you glare at his tie. It constricts the fabric of his shirt from spilling open any further. Pulling the tongue of the tie out from where it’s neatly tucked in his waistband, you tug on it until you’re nose to nose. You swallow thickly, your gaze trailing down the expanse of his neck. The muscles strained beneath the skin as he nervously clenched his jaw.

“Oh … Oh.”

The red in his cheeks deepened. He looked a bit like a tomato but it was rather endearing.

“...Yeah?”

He nods a bit too quickly, “Yeah,” he agrees, biting his bottom lip, “I want this, I want this with you.”

Tentatively, Armin rests his hands on your shoulder and thumbs at the worn wool of your well loved cardigan. The fabric is slowly peeling away from your body, slipping down your biceps to pool in the crook of your elbows. Your heart flutters, it’s a strange sensation and for a moment you wonder if it’s healthy. It can’t be, not with how your stomach lurches alongside your heart. Unfurling your fists from his tie, you straighten your arms and allow your cardigan to unceremoniously fall to the floor.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your fingers skimming the delicate neckline of your nightgown. You weren’t yet so overcome with lust that you forgot yourself or Armin’s apparent lack of experience.

His hands replace yours, “Yes,” his skin is clammy but so is yours, the sheen of nervous sweat that gathers along your jugular feels disgusting when laid overtop of goosebumps but you can’t will either away, “You’re special to me … there isn’t anyone else I would want to do this with.”

“You’re not just saying this because you want to die with no regrets?”

You cringe at the crippling edge of insecurity that creeps over you, mentally slapping your hand in shame. Bad! You silently scold. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. In spite of all that happened, the future was never promised, you both knew that much. There was no shame in wanting to taste all life had to offer just in case. It was human nature.

“I’m going to live a very long life,” Armin says with a confident smile. Such sureness would usually make you roll your eyes in annoyance but Armin doesn’t say it to be boastful– even if he had, he’d have earned it– he says it matter of fact, he will live a long life in spite of everything, “And so are you, there’s no need to think in half measures filled with worries because we’re going to live long beautiful lives filled with everything we could ever want.”

It’s a pretty picture he paints but you can’t help but whisper, “We are?”

Smoothing his calloused thumbs along the column of your throat, Armin exhales, “Yes, we are,” you almost believe him, his optimism was just that convincing, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Armin tugs on the loop that keeps your nightgown tied closed, not minding that the two of you still stand in your kitchenette and it’s his first time. He gently guides the thin cotton fabric open to expose your chest but doesn’t move to pull the cloth from your body. In turn, you push his jacket off his shoulders and toss it to the floor with your cardigan. He unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his lithe abdomen.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, walking backwards at your behest, “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His brows shoot into his hairline when he bumps into the edge of your table, “I never pegged you to be such a flatterer, Mister Arlert,” you tease, pushing his chest until he takes the hint to hop onto the tabletop, “You tell all the girls that?”

It’s easy to wear a smile and play the part of a bashful lovestruck young lady. It’s only half a performance. There were parts of you that have long since been buried amongst the past lives you lived. They seemed to come back to you with each puff of breath that passed your lips. You slip in and out of you were and you could become. It’s frightening and thrilling. You like the rush you get when he smiles back at you. It’s megawatt bright and wide enough to take up most of his face. You wonder if he feels it too, the pieces that come together like a puzzle. He must, that’s why he smiles and allows himself to indulge in the perilous depths of wanting that lap at your bellies.

“No,” he playfully rolls his eyes, his fingers splaying out as he presses his palms flat against the table, “Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

Your stomach somersaults, you could get used to the feeling, the flirting, being desired earnestly.

You’ve been desired before but those men didn’t desire you, but rather the idea of you, your house, even your cunt, but never really you. They never filled you with empty promises, their intentions quite clear from the first shared mug of ale. It never bothered you before but now it does. You wish you didn’t fall for their promise of something good when the real thing was so much better now that you had it in your grasp.

The tip of his shoe just barely grazes the floor as he swings his leg back and forth, stepping into the space between his spread legs, you graze your fingertip along the length of his thigh. The metal of his belt glints in the warm morning light. You should probably bring him upstairs, to your bedroom. You worry if you do, you’ll lose the nerves that have steeled over to service the aching monster in your belly. Tomorrow he might think you crass, perhaps he would even sooner when the haze of desire faded and he was left with the weight of his indulgence.

“May I?

“Yes, please,” Armin breathes, shuddering a bit when you place your hand on the buckle.

His hips twitch upward, seeking the warm touch of your hand. Daring to cast your gaze downward, you rake your eyes over his growing bulge. His belt clinks open and you suck in a nervous breath. You’re about to ask if you can unbutton his dress pants when he whispers another small plea, his breath heavy.

A few strands of hair slip over the edge of your shoulder, Armin tucks them behind your ear with a pleased smile. His cock springs forth when you pull the waistband of his underwear downward. The wispy trail of hair that disappears beneath his shirt is a shade darker, but just as fine as the hair on his head. Your mouth waters at the sight of his rosy tip, precum oozes when you gently squeeze the base of his cock. Slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, you glance at Armin.

His bottom lip is squished between his teeth, hiding the sweet little sounds that travel up his throat. You strain your ears to listen, your eyes boring into his. He blinks but holds your gaze. He frees his bottom lip and allows his jaw to hang open when he realises that you’re listening to his sounds. Armin doesn’t have to be quiet, he can loudly indulge in his pleasures so he does. Softly moaning your name with a goofy, lovestruck expression on his face even as he jerks his hips up to match your rhythm.

“Does that feel good?” you ask, internally cringing as you wrack your brain for something to say. You wonder if you should stay silent, but words may be more comforting.

Armin’s head bobs as he nods a bit too quickly, “Yes,” he moans as he digs his nails into the splintered wood of your table.

He uses his other hand to curl his fingers around your wrist, the one that wasn’t languidly working his cock. Armin squeezes your wrist too roughly like he forgets himself and his own strength, your brows crinkle in pain but it’s easily masked as a look of concentration. You don’t mind though, the pain reminds you that you’re alive, that this was real and not just the machinations of an overactive imagination. Armin shudders when you use your thumb to spread some of the precum gathered along the head of his cock down the shaft, allowing your hand to slide more smoothly.

Your name is sweet on his tongue, the syllables roll off it in a way that makes you think it belongs there. Like Armin was meant to say your name like this for the rest of eternity.

“I want to touch you too,” he pants, between wanton whimpers. The smooth silver of skin that he clings to isn’t enough, “I want you to feel good too.”

It’s difficult to say no to Armin when he asks so sweetly, “Okay,” you say, bringing your linked hands up to your mouth to press a kiss to the back of his hand, “Lay back for me, okay?”

Armin does as you ask without question like a dutiful dog obeys its owner. You hitch your legs over the edge of the table and settle atop of his thighs. Hiking the hem of your nightgown upward, you guide Armin’s hand between your legs to where your bare, wet pussy clenches in anticipation. Your cunt aches with need and your chest squeezes at the slight brush of his calloused fingers across your folds.

“Touch me here.”

“Like this?” he asks, curling his fingers to rub against your throbbing clit, a shiver rolls through your spine.

Cupping your hand over his, you encourage him to make a few small circles, “Mhm, just like that,” you shudder, your breath halting when the table creaks beneath your shared weight, “It feels good, Armin.”

Seeming satisfied with himself and the way his name melted past your lips, he replicates your movement. You feel feverish with need as the urge to burrow yourself within his sternum consumes you. It melds with the pinpricks of pleasure that dance inside your belly as your muscles tense. It’s a terrible fate– to be ensnared by Armin Arlert. You don’t believe his promises, no matter how saccharine. It’s devilish for him to touch you, you’ve decided. Like with your kisses, how were you meant to go on without Armin ever touching you like this again? But, you’ve learned to manage your expectations. Dreams were called dreams because they were never meant to be anything more than something to wish on as a child. Even if he did still love you, there was too much distance between what became of your life and what became of his.

Pleasure burns your belly. It singes your insecurities but doesn’t snuff them out in their entirety. It’s just enough to chase them away and leave nothing but bliss in their wake. Your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Your chest heaves with haggard breaths, and your nightgown slips open to reveal the supple skin of your chest and your breasts to Armin. His gaze is respectful as he drinks in the sight. He moans to himself and marvels, it’s quite endearing. You like it, you don’t feel dirty or ashamed for your wanton ways, how could you when Armin drinks you in like you’re a perfectly crafted mountainside that has been crafted just for his admiration?

“Armin,” you sigh, “I need you inside of me.”

Wrapping your fingers around his cock, you slide the head between your dripping folds. Armin’s body wracks and his shoulders shake as he quivers with need. He moans your name once more, and you commit the sound to memory, for those cold and lonely nights that never seem to end. Your shoulders tense when you press the tip to your hole. It’s been a while, the stretch burns a bit. But, it’s nice. Your eyes roll back into your head and you curse under your breath.

Armin slopes his hand around the nape of your neck, “Can I kiss you?” he all but moans, “I want to kiss you again.”

His rosy cheeks grow round when he offers you a bashful smile. You kiss him, your tongue and teeth clicking against one another as you sloppily move your mouth alongside his. You’ve never been much of a multitasker. It’s hard to focus on much else aside from the mind numbing pleasure that distracts you. He hasn’t stopped rolling your clit between his fingers and as he swallows up your moans with desperate, fevered kisses, you wonder if he’s enjoying how much of a mess he’s made of you.

Your heart throbs in a funny sort of manner when you sink all the way down the length of his cock. The feeling of fullness spreads to the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes. You hate how complete you feel, the fact that a small part of you wishes you could bottle the utter feeling of contentedness that warms you. The hunger and longing that lives inside of you never felt satiated, not once in the decade since it burrowed behind your lungs. Now though, they purr happily like a fat cat who’s had its fair share of the cream.

The taste of salt dabbles on your tongue, “Why are you crying?” Armin asks, his voice laced with concern, “Is something wrong, does it hurt?”

Swiping your fingers across the top of your cheekbones you confirm that those are your tears and not his. They spill past your lash line and there is nothing you can do to stop them. You don’t feel sad, even with the mess in your head you know that much. You sputter for a moment, desperately searching his face for an answer but nothing comes.

“I’m just so happy,” you say though you’re unsure where those words come from but they flow freely before you can stop them just like your tears, “I like being this close to you, I want to stay this close to you.”

Forever.

That’s the word that should complete your sentence. You keep it clutched to your chest where it’ll remain safe so long as you’re vigilant.

You knock your hips forward to silence whatever endeared sentiment Armin is about to form. His brows press together in concentration. He’s nearing his end, you can feel it in the way he throbs inside of you. Your tears are gently wiped by rough hands, you hardly register them. It’s difficult to focus on much as he plays with your clit and dutifully matches each flick of your hips. He’s a quick learner, he always has been. You wonder if he’s storing your reactions and sounds for later so that if there was a next time, he’d do exactly what you’d like without instruction. The end nears for you too, it lingers amongst the obnoxious groans from your table as you rock your hips. The sounds of skin bare slapping marry your shared, debauched whines. They’ll haunt your walls tomorrow and the next.

They haunt you right now.

You didn’t think you were capable of feeling so serene, but you do. You’re untouchable as you chase your release. It lays in the palm of Armin’s hands. You’ll eat straight from them if you have to. The coil in your stomach tightens for a moment and your breathing becomes staggered. Armin is no better, he sputters small half breaths between needy whines of your name. His forehead rests on your shoulder, and his sweat dabbled hair sticks to you. Strands of your hair cling to the nape of your neck too. The cool breeze that slithers across your house makes your heated skin break out with goosebumps. It doesn’t bother you though, nothing could bother you now.

“I love you,” Armin whispers into your skin as he cums, holding your body close to his.

A few more tears well up as your orgasm washes through you. Your thighs shake and you struggle to bring your arms around his torso. His tight embrace makes up for it as they lay limply by your side. Your flush skin is peppered with affectionate kisses and his nose is nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You feel loved, you haven’t felt it in a while but it felt similar to this. The earnest way he embraces you without a second thought is imbued with love. Lifting your tired arms, you curl them around his body. Your nails dig into the hardened flesh of his back. They leave a few crescent moons to join the myriad of battle scars and freckles that have returned to him.

‘“I love you too.”

You wish you could say it was true for the moment but it’s not. It was true because you did love him, you loved him in a way you weren’t sure you were capable of loving anyone else. If Ymir the Founder had left her people with anyone before erasing herself and her titan kin from existence, you think it might have been eternal love. The kind that wasn’t possible of fading, even when you didn’t understand why.

Hours pass and you find yourself in your bed once more, on the edge of waking and sleep you register the lack of sunlight. You don’t remember exactly how you made your way upstairs but you do remember two strong arms holding you close as you allowed slumber to cradle your tired mind in its embrace. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your blanket is tucked snugly beneath your chin.

There’s a letter on your bedside table and a glass of water. You make out the letters of your name and the promise of return but you choose not to read any further. Laying in silence you wonder if she’s still out there, your creator, the founder. If she was, you hoped she would listen to your pleas. You were strong, but you weren’t strong enough to spend the rest of your life waiting on a lost life whose remains had long since returned to the dirt and earth.

You prayed that the Jägerist’s stupidity would fall deaf to Queen Historia’s ears and that when you awoke next, there’d still be a head of blond hair next to you with long pretty eyelashes and rosy cheeks that told all his secrets.

He was too far entangled in your rib cage. You were far too comfortably curled around his aorta. Armin may be able to withstand it but you weren’t. After all this time, you really hoped you could be happy. Even with all the strangeness that came from estrangement, you felt more alive with Armin than you had in all the years of living in Shiganshina. It was a shell of its former self, with the ghosts of yesterday's past filling all the nooks and crannies. You too easily allowed yourself to become one of them, the ghosts but you didn’t half to be a ghost, you could want things just the same as Armin could.

And you wanted him to come back to you so the two of you could experience that future he was talking about.

Mr. Arlert did not raise a liar or a man who’d break promises. Your chances were good. You could be happy. All the lost parts of you could return and maybe you’d feel whole again, and maybe you’d welcome the warmth of the sun on your skin the same way you welcomed Armin back into your life.

You deserved some ounce of happiness too.

#armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #armin x reader #armin smut #armin x you

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 8 months

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The Southern Hemisphere, where it’s winter, has been really hot too

Brazil, Argentina, South Africa, and Australia had heat waves in the past few months. Now spring begins.

It’s been a hot, brutal, record-breaking summer across much of the world, and it’s not quite ready to let go as late-season heat waves bake parts of the United States, the United Kingdom, North Africa, and the Middle East.

The long goodbye is a fitting cap to a season of deadly heat that contributed to severe drought in some areas and torrential rainfall in others. High temperatures also set the stage for wildfires in Greece and Turkey, Canada, Hawaii, and Louisiana.

But at least people north of the equator can look forward to some relief as autumn and winter set in. The 850 million people in the Southern Hemisphere, on the other hand, are emerging from some of their hottest winter temperatures on record and bracing for even more heat as the warmer seasons begin.

In fact, the weather was pretty much like summer in June, July, and August across parts of South America, Africa, and Australia. Peruvians went to the beach last month as temperatures reached 82 degrees Fahrenheit. Similarly balmy weather engulfed Paraguay and Chile. Buenos Aires, Argentina, reached 86°F, the hottest August temperature in at least 117 years. The heat was downright dangerous in Brazil as thermometers ticked above 100°F. Australia’s Bureau of Meteorology confirmed this month that Australia experienced its hottest winter since record keeping began more than a century ago. Even down near the South Pole, warmer air and water have led to the lowest sea ice extent on record around Antarctica.

“Some of these set new records by a large margin, also known as ‘record shattering’ extremes,” explained Michael Grose, a senior research scientist at CSIRO, Australia’s government science agency, in an email.

#brazil #politics #environmentalism #climate change #australia #argentina #south africa #brazilian politics #australian politics #argentine politics #south african politics #mod nise da silveira #image description in alt

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bb-sg · 1 year

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Wildfire

Relationship: Yandere!Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: Dabi can't stop thinking about the new warden of the prison. Prison AU.

MDNI! Please mind the content warnings, this fic contains dark content and themes.

CW: Smut, masturbation, violence, gun use, yandere!dabi, obsession, language, implied murder, language, punishment, implied non-con/dub con, domestic violence, darcyphilia

You were a natural disaster waiting to ravage him. You were like lightning; you were striking and consuming. You were meticulously put together, not a hair out of place, always presenting your best self. You shone through the bleakness of these cold walls. Just like lightning, your presence was electrifying. The moment you entered a room, your energy flooded the room and demanded attention.

Where there was lightning, there was thunder. Just like thunder, you made your existence known. It was the way you walked with confidence and an area of authority that made you impossible to miss. You carried your head high, beautiful eyes facing forward, your composed demeanor never faltering.

Why shouldn’t you carry yourself like a queen? You were the new warden after all.

The first time he saw you was in the cafeteria. A fight had just broken out between two gangs. Men in faded orange jumpsuits brawling over the thriving contraband economy. It was nothing that concerned him, so he sat back and watched. Secretly cheering certain men on until the security guards called for a lockdown. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the inconvenience of having to lay on the ground. He complied but kept his eyes glued to the commotion.

He had never been happier that a fight broke out when he saw you. Alarms started blaring as you burst through the door with your face set in stone. He watched every move you made as you surveyed the scene. Two security guards protected you as you approached the two original instigators of the altercation.

“Take these two to solitary. Along with anyone else who was involved.” You snarled, looking down on the prisoners being detained on the ground. “Take the injured to the infirmary.” The clack on your heels could be heard as you walked to one of your guards, delegating him to get the rest of the prisoners back to their cells. You took one more look around when you locked eyes with him.

He thought you were too beautiful to be in such a wretched place with people like him. Everything about you drew him to you. You stern but gorgeous features never displaying any emotion as you stared him down. He let his eyes drift down your body, devouring your delicious figure under his gaze.

What really made him want you was the way you tried to exude control when he knew that you were just begging to be dominated. He could see it in your eyes, you wanted- no you needed, to be put in your place.

“Get them back to their cells and get this cleaned up. Now.” You barked out, while turning on your heels to leave the room. You paid him no mind as you sauntered away, but he could not help but watch your hips sway with every step. He listened for the sound of your heels fading away, like rolling thunder in the distance.

Each step echoed in his head as you disappeared from sight. That is when it began, when he found the silver lining about being locked up. Each step you took punctuated the thoughts that consumed him.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

You. Will. Be. His.

That was six months ago and since then he has poured all his energy into finding ways to be close to you. He would purposely get caught with contraband, pick fights with a guard, and try to incite chaos wherever he went just to draw you out.

Every time he got called to your office, he wore a smile proudly. He always greeted you with compliments, pick up lines or charming anecdotes to try and get you to open up. The guards frequently jostled him around to try get him to behave but you stopped them. Each time you said the same thing.

“He’s harmless, he is just trying to get a rise out of me. Don’t entertain him.” Your eyes always stern and unwavering. He wanted to laugh; you really had no idea what he could do. What he would do.

“Yeah, harmless.” He smiled a little too much, almost letting a chuckle slip out. “You do have me chained up like a dog after all.”

“This is the second time this week that you’ve been caught breaking rules. Do you want to be thrown into the hole?” You drawled out, with disinterest.

This annoyed him. He wanted to hold you by the neck while he railed you mercilessly. Wiping the arrogant look of your face. He wanted to make you cry for forgiveness, cry for ever thinking you were above him.

He painted on a calm face and leaned back in the chair positioned in front of your desk.

“There are a few holes I wouldn't mind being in, but solitary confinement isn't one of them.” His voice was laced with honey, batting his eyes at you.

“Please, at least have the decency to refrain from hitting on me.” You were unmoved by him.

“You always seem so high strung, I know how to get you relaxed, let me show you.” He smirked.

“I’m happily married, not that it’s any of your business. Now I’m assigned you to janitorial duties until you can knock off this shit attitude.” You deadpanned.

He was impressed with you. Never once in the past six months had you broken character. It only made the build up to the inevitable better for him. He couldn’t wait to see you reduced to a sniveling mess under him.

“Always work and no play.” He whispered to you. “Your husband must be slacking at his duties.” He laughed as the guard pulled him out of your office. He would keep chipping away at you until you revealed a crack in your armor.

Another six months had passed, and he continued his onslaught of mischief around the prison. It was like clockwork; he would break the rules and you would call him to the office to scold him. His crimes began to escalate, waiting for you to truly break and for him to see the real you.

Then one day he got a glimpse of it. He had gotten in a guard's face and refused to follow orders. On the way down the familiar corridor to the office he heard you arguing with someone. He heard your distraught voice drifting down the halls, your voice shook, wrought with emotion.

He savored it, trying to walk as slowly as possible to bask in the way the timbre in your voice made it impossible to miss the pain you were feeling.

He loved it.

The guard knocked on the door gently, undoubtedly feeling uncomfortable with disturbing you.

“Excuse me ma’am?” the guard beckoned to you. On the other side of the door, he could head you scrambling to get off the phone, shushing whoever was on the other end. You cleared your throat before inviting them in.

It was obvious, your normal shell was cracked. Your eyes were darkened from exhaustion, your hair wasn’t as neat as usual, and your usual conservative clothing was replaced with more relaxed, casual wear. He loved the way your tank top clung to your body, he took in every little detail.

When you saw it was him you audibly signed. You rested your hands on your hips while you tried to compose yourself.

“What have you done now?” you groaned, clearly not in the mood to deal with him.

“That’s no way to greet a friend warden. You don’t look so hot today, what’s troubling you?” He smiled and cooed at you.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to wipe away your fog. The guard shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, the tension was thick, and the atmosphere was heavy and stale.

You walked around to the front of the desk and leaned against it, eyeing Dabi down.

“Can you please give me a minute alone with him?” You croaked out meeting the guard’s eyes. The guard nodded before he exited your office.

Dabi kept his eyes on you, standing still waiting for you to make a move.

“What is the purpose of all this? I don’t get it anymore. Do you want to be stuck in here forever? You have a parole hearing coming up soon and I have no reason to vouch for you to be released early. So, give me a good explanation on why you’ve been you’re constantly getting into trouble?” You ranted, speaking faster and louder than you normally do. You crossed your arms in front of you protectively when you waited for his response.

“What can I say? Seeing you is the best part of my day warden.” He laughed taking one step closer to you, his kept his eyes trained on you, almost stalking towards you. He couldn’t believe his luck that you asked to be alone with him, this was his chance to finally get to you. He didn’t know what he wanted to do first with you: force you to your knees and make you cry on his cock or push you down on the desk and make you beg to be let go, tears running down your face, whimpering beneath him. He knew you would look beautiful when he broke you and you were so close to finally letting your façade crumble.

“Stop fucking around. You are going to catch a new charge at this rate that you’re going, and you will end up rotting in this prison alone. Is that what you want? I’ll happily throw you into the hole for as long as I can if you don’t drop this act.” You snapped back, dripping with venom. You stood your ground when he took another step closer, his handcuffs rattling cutting through the silence.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t do that to me. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing me warden. If you want, maybe I can get you out of your shit mood and make you feel better.” He sauntered closer to you, now standing directly in front of you. “Just beg for me and I’ll happily make you forget about everything. I’ll put you in a good mood and send you back to your doting husband, you’ll have a great night with him, make dinner, watch your boring shows and pathetically fall asleep next to him in your bed. Fuck, he will be none the wiser.” He whispered, baring his teeth like a wolf who has trapped his target. “What do you say warden? You wanna drop that whole bitch act and give in?”

“Shut up! You’re insufferable. Fine, you want to fuck around? Let’s fuck around and I’ll write a letter to the parole board begging them to keep you in here for your full sentence and then some.” You pressed a finger to his chest and pushed him back when you stood up tall. You gather all your strength to put forward some bravado, but your voice betrayed you as your voice shook with every word.

“You think you know everything about me, don’t you? You don’t know anything about me! How dare you talk to me like that! I’m so sick of the men in my life acting like fucking assholes! What is it about me that makes people want to take advantage of me…” You trailed off quickly and sunk back against the desk.

Then he finally got what he’s been pining for, seeing you break down before him. You covered your face, shoulders slumped and shaking.

Where there is lightning and thunder, there’s also rain. Right now, you were pouring. You started weeping, your sobs wracking your body while you struggled to breathe through each cry. You collapsed into yourself, holding your body as you fell forward.

His smile fell when he saw you. This was supposed to make him happy, overjoyed even but now all he wanted to do was to break the neck of whoever did this to you. The sight of you so disheveled made him feel feral with rage. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be the one to break you. He wasn’t basking in your pain like he had wanted to, he actually felt sorry for you. He would find out who did this to you and rip their throat out, he promised this to you silently.

You tried to pick yourself up, attempting to stop crying and fixing your clothes and posture. You wiped your tears away endlessly, still sniffling. Your eyes were puffy and red when you made eye contact with him again.

He was right about one thing though; you did look beautiful when you cried. It made you look more human, vulnerable, and weak. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe from whatever was happening. Keep you safe from this world, lock you up and throw away the key so nothing can make you cry again, except for him.

He lifted his arms up slowly, adjusting the handcuffs slightly to allow him to wrap his arms around you so he could comfort you. He expected you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your head fell to his chest as you started crying more. You knew it was inappropriate, but you didn’t care. He awkwardly tried to pat your back, but his restraints didn’t allow him to. Instead, he just held you, silently waiting for you to be done crying.

“I’m sorry.” You choked out between sobs. “This is so unlike me.”

You nuzzled into him, inhaling the scent of his body wash. He smelled like rich dark wood and smoke. It was soothing and relaxing to you. His broad chest served as a pillow for you while you drained yourself, purging out your frustrations.

After a few moments he spoke, his voice shaking you from your stupor.

“Who did this to you?” The base in his voice vibrating against you.

You pulled back, coming face to face with him. You admired him for a moment. Taking in his features for what felt like the first time. He was handsome, his eyes were beautiful and enticing. His lips fixed in a line while he looked at you, not giving away any of the thoughts running through his head.

“I’m so sorry, this was incredibly unprofessional.” You half-heartedly laughed and unraveled yourself from him. “It’s just some stuff going on at home.” You uncomfortably cleared your throat, fixing your clothes again and cleaning your face with a tissue.

“Is it your husband?” He said quietly. He secretly hoped it was.

He eyed the framed picture of you and your husband on your desk. He pictured beating your husband within an inch of his life for hurting you.

You bit your lip and looked at your feet. “Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay?”

Bingo, he thought as his eyes shifted back to you. Your body language told him everything that you didn’t want to tell him. He shifted his attention back to the photo, he memorized it, burning the image into his brain. He vowed he would find your husband and rip him apart, piece by piece, make him plead for his life. He would laugh while he snuffed out your husband’s life. The only person that had the right to make you weak was Dabi and he would make sure of that. You were his and his alone, you just didn’t know it yet.

He couldn’t help but commit how you looked in the photo to memory too. How could he not? You looked ethereal, your smile was radiant, spreading to your eyes. Your skin was glowing, your eyes were bright, and your lips looked so inviting. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your lips around his cock while you drooled and gagged around him. It made his blood rush to his stiffening member. That was going to be one of his favorite ways to make you cry. In the photo you’re wearing a sundress that fit you perfectly, the color complimented your skin tone beautifully. He daydreamed about seeing you walk around in that dress, teasing him with the way the dress flowed around you and gave him hints of your body underneath. In his daydream he preys on you, pouncing on you while ripping your dress off you so he can take you properly. Whether you wanted to or not. He almost audibly moaned at the idea of sheathing himself inside you and fucking you like an animal. Your pussy clenching around him more with every thrust until he came deep inside you, breeding you. You wouldn’t be able to leave him if you were swollen with his baby, right?

You noticed him staring at the photo and quickly put it away in a drawer, feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare.

“Let’s get back to the issue at hand. You need to knock off all your shit if you want to have any chance of getting released early. I don’t want to see you in my office again or I’ll throw your ass into solitary, and I will personally beg the parole board to keep you in here for as long as possible.”

Just like that, you were returning to your normal self, the armor was put back together and your walls were up. You glared at him, waiting for a snarky reply.

“Understood, I will be a saint. You have my word warden.” He held his hands up in defeat and smiled at you.

Oh, he would be on his best behavior, he has to get out in order to be able to find your husband. He’ll be a model prisoner if it meant that he would be able to see that man’s life leave his eyes and he would have you all to himself. He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to have you stuck in a prison of his own design.

You resigned and called for the guard to take Dabi away, hiding your face to prevent the guard from seeing your tear-stained face.

That night in his cell, the only thing he could think of was you. He made a list of ways he would fuck you and another list of ways he would put you in your place. The way you would be sobbing while he railed you from behind, his hands locked around your throat, made him hard. It was only a matter of time.

He swiftly pulled his hard cock out of its confinements and stroked it softly. He groaned at the feeling, thinking about how it would feel even better if he was in your hands. He caved into his lust and increased the pace of his strokes. He used his thumb to swipe the precum from his slit, shuddering at the touch.

“Fuck…” he whispered and lifted his shirt up, holding it out of the way with his teeth. Closing his eyes, he thought of how warm and tight your pussy would feel around his cock. How you would clench around him every time his tip hit your cervix, writhing with pleasure and pain when he held your hips down, making sure you take all of him. The strong, fierce woman he sees everyday reduced to the fuck toy you really were. His fuck toy. The idea of you blubbering over how good his cock felt almost made him cum too quickly. He moaned and slowed his strokes, he wanted this to last, he had too many fantasies of you that he wanted to play out in his head.

His cock twitched when he thought of you riding him, desperately trying to please him. Your breasts bouncing in his face while he lies to you and tells you that if you can make him cum in under five minutes, he would let you go. You would try your little heart out but fail, not only to make him cum but you would fail to deny that he makes you feel so good. The feeling of your slick covering his cock was evidence that you enjoyed every second. Then an even better idea dawned on him. Maybe he would make you make you cum in front of your shitty husband. He’d fuck you stupid while your husband watched his wife scream for another man. You wouldn’t be able to hide the shame you felt from cumming around Dabi’s cock, but you wouldn’t be able to help yourself no matter how much you tried.

His pace quickened and he let out a series of whinny moans while his toes curled in pleasure. He was thankful for the shirt in his mouth that was stifling his moans. The fantasy was perfect, you would look irresistible beneath him, your lips shaped in an “O”, eyes screwed shut and moaning for him. Just for Dabi. He was tethering on the edge, pressure building up as he approached his climax. He focused on imagining how beautiful you would look while he fucked into you relentlessly while your husband begs for Dabi to stop. Would he take you again after he killed your husband? Maybe. He would make sure that you were too scared to ever try to leave him. You’d be his to keep, a pet to play with, forever. He came hard as pleasure washed over him.

He laughed to himself as he came down from his high. You were going to be his. He would keep you hidden away, just for him. You’d hate it at first, but he’d break you down and make you appreciate him. One way or another.

The next few months passed by without an incident. Dabi was true to his word and stayed out of trouble. Keeping to himself and watching you from a distance. You went on like nothing happened, only sparing him a glance from time to time. Every time you graced his presence he memorized every detail about you, each time saw you he felt like he knew you more and more. He was obsessed with you, and he knew it.

His life had become monotonous, until one day he saw you speaking to your staff from across the yard. He noticed your lip was busted and eye swollen. You looked like you had taken quite the beating. He saw red. He knew it had to be your husband. He was filled with a blinding rage, barely able to hold himself back from approaching you. He thought about taking out his anger on the poor bastard next to him, beating him until Dabi felt better. Poor guy would be collateral damage, but it would be a win, win for Dabi. He would get to get this rage out of him, and he would be able to see you when you inevitably threw him into the hole.

He stared at you, his self-control weakening every second he saw your beaten face. How dare another man lay a hand on what was his? He was the only one that has the honor of putting hands on you. He wasn’t going to stand for this. He wanted you and your husband at his mercy.

Now.

He let out a deep breath and calmed himself. Deciding that tonight was the night he was going to get out. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until you were his for good.

It was one in the morning when the sound of your cell phone ringing woke you up. You groggily rolled over in your bed to feel around for your phone on the nightstand. You figured it was your husband, presumably out at a bar getting plastered before he came home to start another fight with you. For months it was the same thing over and over. The smell of whisky overwhelming you while he yelled in your face about anything and everything. Ever since he lost his job, he hasn’t been the same.

You looked at your phone and noticed the call was from the prison. Your eyes widened in concern as you quickly answered the call.

“What’s wrong?” You croaked out, your voice gravely from sleep.

“It’s an emergency! A riot has broken out and some of the prisoners have escaped. We need your help, t-there’s not enough guards here to handle this!” One of the guards cried over the phone, panic evident in his voice.

“What! Who escaped and how?” You scrambled to get out of bed and throwing on whatever clothes you could find. You picked up a tank top and sweats from the floor before digging in the closet to get shoes. Your mind racing with all the possible ways prisoners would be able to escape. Trying to think of a solution to get the riot under control.

The guard listed several names before he sputtered out Dabi’s name. You froze, panic overwhelming you.

Why would he escape? His parole hearing was coming up, he could have been released. It didn’t make sense. You recalled the way he has been watching you over the past few months, the look in his eyes when you made eye contact and you shuddered.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You frantically hung up the call and rushed to find your keys. You ran to the front door to where you kept your keys, but they were gone. You were sure you left them here when you came home. Your husband must have taken your car; that was the only explanation you could come up with.

You sighed as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call your husband. You cringed at the thought of having to ask him to come home, expecting him to be too obliterated to be reasoned with. You called him, bracing yourself mentally when you heard the jingle of a cell phone in your living room.

You couldn’t move. Something wasn’t right. Why did your husband come home and not come to bed? He always ended up passing out next to you. If he’s here, then where are your keys? Your stomach dropped and your chest tightened with fear.

You hesitantly called out your husband’s name but received no response. You heard footsteps coming from the living room and the sound of a chair sliding across the floor.

Each sound reverberating through your body, your heart rate quickened, and you started to sweat. You thought about running out of the house and screaming for help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flee. You slowly tip toed towards the living room, telling yourself it was just your husband. It had to be. You gripped your phone tightly in your hand, ready to call for help as you rounded the corner.

You stopped in your tracks when you took in the sight before you. Dabi was standing in your living room. He wore baggy joggers, a white tee that was tattered and splattered with blood with a crazed smile on his face. His hair hung in his face, but you caught a glimpse of his bright eyes staring at you. Fear jolted through your body when you saw him standing over your husband. Your husband was gagged and tied to a dining room chair, badly beaten and unconscious. You were about to cry out when Dabi pulled a gun from his waistband and cocked it against your husband’s slumped over head.

He tutted and shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you warden.”

Your eyes filled with tears; your heart pounded in your ears as you tried to process the scene in front of you. Maybe you were having a nightmare. You wanted to believe you were still in bed, but you couldn’t wake up.

“Come closer and hand me the phone, doll.” He cooed at you.

You slowly walked towards him, your body acting of its own accord. With a shaky hand you gave him your phone, never taking your eyes away from the gun.

“Hey, look at me.” Dabi whispered, pushing the barrel of the gun against your cheek to turn your attention to him. Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his eyes. His blue eyes looked at you adoringly, he smiled as he leaned closer to you.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt about this moment. Don’t ruin it by doing something I’d have to punish you for darling.” He whispered his voice low and dangerous.

“Dabi. Why are you doing this? Why?” The tears in your eyes spilled over and raced down your cheeks.

“To see that look on your face. It’s just as beautiful as I thought it would be too.” He grinned while he watched your tears run down your face. “Plus, this piece of shit here needed to pay for what he’s done to you.”

Dabi kicked the leg of the chair your husband sat in, causing it to break. Your husband fell to the floor with a loud thud, waking him up. Dabi laughed when your husband cried out into his gag.

“Dabi...”

You tried to reason with him, but no words came out. You watched in horror as Dabi knelt down closer to your husband.

“Now, tell me. What do you think I should to him?” Dabi asked while locking eyes with you. You wanted to cry for your husband, plead with Dabi to let you both go but you couldn’t. You thought of the torture your husband has put you through, the screaming and yelling, the other night when he finally snapped and hit you in a drunken haze.

“Shoot him.” You whispered softly, your mind going blank as you uttered the sinful words.

Dabi burst out laughing, surprised by your response. Truly were perfect for him.

“Oh dove, you really are a force to be reckoned with, aren’t you? I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll do your little dirty work and rid you of this cockroach but in return you’re mine. You’ll. Belong. To. Me.”

You fell to your knees as you contemplated his proposition. Trying to weigh out your options, figuring out which was the lesser of two evils.

“This is crazy...” You whispered.

He smiled tucking the gun away as he moved to kneel in front of you, capturing your face in his hand.

“What can I say, you make me crazy. I’ll let you in on a little secret love, you’re already mine, whether you like it or not. So, I’ll do you a favor and get rid of him,” he nodded in the direction of your husband who thrashed against his restraints. “But first, let’s show him who owns you.”

He leaned in, holding you still as he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you feverishly, moving his lips against yours hungrily. He bit your lip harshly, causing you to yelp. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth and taste you. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving in time with him, your skin burning with desire. You shouldn’t enjoy it, but you did. You hadn’t been intimate with your husband in months, and Dabi’s touch caused your body to tingle, you didn’t even want to fight it.

He pulled away from you and hummed in approval. He licked the tears off your cheek and smiled to himself. This was better than he imagined it. You tasted sweet, your lips and skin were so soft, and he could hear your heart beating rapidly in your little body. He felt his cock straining against his pants, the sight of you making him hard. Nothing and nobody was going to be able to take you from him now.

“Oh doll, you don’t know how far I’m willing to go in order to make you mine. Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget all this asshole. You’ll learn to love how I make you feel. You’ll learn to love me.” He whispered in your ear.

You trembled at the feeling of his breath on your neck. You couldn’t think, speak or move. You could only focus on the heat radiating off of him, the tickle of his breath and cadence of his voice.

You may be a storm; you may be made out of lightning and thunder, but he was a wildfire. He would burn the world down to keep you by his side. He will destroy everything that gets in his way, and he will consume you with his flames. The passion he felt for you fueling him.

He stood up, unbuckling his belt. “Now take off your fucking clothes or I’ll do it for you.”

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This was inspired by a yandere prompt list and a fan art of Dabi that has been living in my mind rent free.

Please let me know what you think, my first yandere/dark fic.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated, please help my spread my writing. :)

Thank you for reading!

#bnha dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #todoroki touya #touya todoroki #yandere dabi #yandere #mha x reader #bhna x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha dabi #dabi imagine #dabi smut

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

Diamondback Masterlist

BASED OFF OF: Only The Brave (2017), What We Lost In The Fire by Troy Baker

PAIRING: ??? (To be determined) x F!Reader

SUMMARY: The heat was something else. With a heavy heart and nothing to lose, you’ve ditched your ex-fiancé to chase your childhood best friend across the country to a small town in a wildfire prone area of the United States - Pine, Arizona. It’s nestled in a valley and is where your best friend, Alex Keller, calls home. He’s following his passion, his dreams, and soon enough, you’re following it too; but the flames are getting too close and soon you’ll be in the line of fire of your best friend’s superintendent, John Price, and his assistant, Simon Riley.

CONTENT WARNINGS: MDNI 18+. Firefighter!AU, heavy topics discussed, smut in later chapters, love triangle or poly (you get to decide 🫶). Major character death mentioned, maskless!Simon Riley, mentions of cheating/pregnancy (not reader).

IMPORTANT TERMINOLOGY:

Interagency Hotshot Crews (IHC, also called Hotshots)

Specially trained firefighters that provide an organized, mobile, and skilled workforce for all phases of wildland fire management

Fire watch (Fire watcher, fire lookout)

A person assigned the duty to look for fire from atop a building known as a fire lookout tower. These towers are used in remote areas, normally on mountain tops with high elevation and a good view of the surrounding terrain, to spot smoke caused by a wildfire.

Prologue

Chapter One | Chasing Light

Pine, Arizona. You’ve touched down in Phoenix and driven up to a relatively normal sized city, more than ready to see your best friend and grossly underprepared for an interview you got twelve hours ago. It’s hard to tell if you’re ready, but now you have to be. It’s time to chase the light.

Chapter Two | The Memory Remains

…

#lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #diamondback series #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley cod #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #john price x reader #john price call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader x john price

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hoeforalbedo · 2 years

Text

Fanfition and Stimulation

Ike Eveland x Fem bodied Reader

Warning: Sex, penetration, cockwarming, edging, writing fanfics, mentions of quildren during sex (doesn’t actually say the fandom name), humiliation, degrade.

“You know darling, you’ve gotten so bold, but not to worry. I find it very amusing,” Ike speaks directly next to your ear, his voice like dripping honey. If it weren’t for his cock buried deep inside your warm soaked pussy, the whole scenario would have been adorable. Just you and your fiance cuddled up writing stories together.

Maybe you should’ve been careful and yet again, your rising fame made it hard. To make it clear, you are famous on lots of fanfiction platforms. You’re most well known for your back arching, toe curling, mind numbing smut of your YouTube streamer fiancee, Ike Eveland.

To think that I had to hold back because you’re oh so precious but underneath that you’re nothing but a little dirty whore,” He speaks sweetly yet he’s mocking you. You suck a deep breath of air, pausing the work of your fingers. How could you focus on writing a story purely on sex when Ike has you sat on his cock?

You hadn’t expected to gain much attention yet the surprise it was for some of your stories to spread like wildfire on twitter. Some have even drawn fan art of such scenarios and of course tagging Ike’s tags. How could he not see that? You could have gotten away with it, honestly, if he hadn’t seen you scrolling through fanfictions the other time and your username is very memorable. The notifications on your phone don't help you either.

Now, here you are, typing yet another obscene fanfiction of Ike. What’s different is that he’s inside you and he’s trailing kisses down your neck and fondling with your exposed breasts. He pinches a nipple which makes you gasp. “You made a little grammar mistake, darling.” He sounds like an english teacher and yet he makes the idea of it sound very arousing.

After a few more clicks and clacks of the keyboard, your brain runs out of ideas, or it merely becomes blank, you can’t tell. Who could ever focus on what they’re doing when your partner is balls deep into your cunt and touching you in all the right places? All you want is for him to thrust himself up your dripping hole. It doesn’t help either that not only are you turned on by the scenario, you’re very much turned on by your writing.

“Ike,” You mumble. “Can’t do it anymore,” Your words quiver a bit.”

“Are you sure you can’t do it anymore or you don’t want to do it anymore?” He asks and obviously the answer is the latter. You really don’t want to continue writing this fanfiction. What you want is for him to stop his silly schemes and fuck you dumb.

“Ikey!” You whine like a spoiled brat. He would always listen immediately to your whines. “Please I don’t know what to write anymore!”

“Oh but what could be so hard about it? You’re only writing a detailed story of everything that I’m doing to you. Wouldn’t your readers enjoy this story? Imagine how my silly fans would scream when they find out how good I can fuck. You’re doing the both of us a favor, my love.”

Ike may make it seem like such an amazing thing but to think they read your story. To them it may be self insert but they don’t know that it’s you. It’s almost like exposing how submissive you are for Ike. It’s humiliating yet they’d never know. It’s a bit arousing in some peculiar way.

“I can always help you write an amazing story. You want me to fuck you right,” Ike asks, his hand resting on your throat. He’d never actually choke you because he’s too afraid to hurt you. Instead he would rub the area just above your pulse and that action alone makes you clench around his dick.

“Please Ike,” You beg.

“I’ll give you something to write about but you better keep writing or else you won’t be cumming anytime soon,” He orders. His hips start grinding up into your cunt, not enough that you’d be dazed from reality but just enough to get you off. “Start writing.”

Your hands work shakily yet the story is getting quite some good details. They do say that the best way to write a story is to write from experience. You would try to bite your lip, trying to keep your moans from coming out because if one manages to slip, then many more will soon follow and you both know that you wouldn’t be able to write anything if that happens. If you are to get distracted from the task Ike ordered you to complete, then you would get a punishment, that being unable to reach your high. He’d only extend it continuously and by the rate he’s going, you don’t think his main mission is to get you to complete that story. No, his mission is to do anything to keep you from finishing it in hopes to edge you for hours and hours.

#ike smut #ike x reader #ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike #luxiem #luxiem x reader #ike eveland smut #luxiem smut #nijisanji en #ike x you #ike eveland x you #luxiem x you

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iliektehhaxs · 4 months

Text

I’m expanding the Baker! AU with our very own god of fire: Liu Kang!

Anyone in the restaurant business knows of him; A mysterious benefactor that acts like a shareholder for a majority of restaurants in the area, a man shrouded in mystery. The Michelin Star holder whose culinary skills earned him the moniker “The God of Fire”, as anyone who has seen him behind a stove swears that he commands the very flames he uses to cook.

Nowadays though, Liu Kang would much rather be called by his name.

Formerly the owner of the very popular Wu-Shi restaurant, the “God of Fire” now spends his time perusing new establishments, enjoying life and even lending a helping hand to those he finds a cut above the rest. This happens to include the multitude of bakeries and restaurants that our favorite characters work at.

Speaking of his restaurant, he has since passed down ownership to his faithful partner Geras, a man whose background is even less known than Liu Kang. However, this is only a temporary assignment; He currently trains two men, Raiden and Kung Lao as his apparentices to take over the store when they become ready.

Raiden has skill but is far too humble for his own good, while Kung Lao is also a great chef, but maybe a bit too cocky. Both still have many years until they master their craft but that spark of greatness is still there, and it is his responsibility to turn that spark into a wildfire.

Bi-Han doesn’t trust him for some reason, and Sindel has her own misgivings about him but he’s done nothing to arouse suspicion. Not a lot is known about him, or his ever faithful partner Geras, and no one knows why he does what he does, but they’re both nice enough.

Dude just likes some good food, and if he can make a living giving up and coming eateries a chance, then that’s a life he can live happily.

You stroll to the Lin-Kuei bakery expecting to be greeted by either of it’s brothers but instead you’re greeted with a sign at the door.

Closed? You check your phone and it’s only 3pm, two hours earlier than the store is supposed to close. You peek into the window and see all three of them talking to someone inside, fully aware that you’re being more than a bit nosey at the moment. When you decide it’s time to leave the mysterious strangers turns around and catches your eyes, frozen on the spot as he smiles and waves at you through the window.

There’s a short conversation before Kuai Liang walks up to the door and greets you. “Hello there, I’m sorry for the inconvenience—“

“No no no! You’re busy, I see that—“ you stammer, one foot backwards. “I can come back later—“

“Nonsense,” the stranger says, walking behind Kuai Liang. “I would not interfere with your business, please, come inside.”

You look at the man carefully, curious as to who he is. His hair runs down to his back, a sort of wisened look to him as he speaks. You can immediately tell that he’s not an employee or a customer by the way Kuai Liang immediately steps aside, and on further inspection you can see Bi-Han’s stern look from behind the counter.

“Oh, thank you but I don’t want to intrude—“

“Do not worry, I was already finishing up,” he smiles, then nods towards Bi-Han. A long sigh escapes the elder brother before he nods.

“Fine, I will consider a collaboration. We can discuss details later.”

“Excellent. If you need me, you know where to find me,” he says before looking at you again. “And I apologize for ruining your eating experience.”

You shake your head. “Trust me, you didn’t. I would’ve gone somewhere else to eat.”

“And that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? I know I would be upset if my favorite customer had to leave early.”

Smoke visibly blushes, while Kuai Liang becomes bashful and while it’s tough to discern, even Bi-Han turns his head out of embarrassment.

“Favorite customer?” You ask, almost confused.

The man laughs softly and shakes his head. “I would assume so, they mentioned you by name in this months newest reports.”

Bi-Han grumbles at that. “Do not speak of our private affairs as if we are not here.”

“Ah, it seems I cross a line, my mistake,” he says, and then extends his hand to you. “My name is Liu Kang, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Still shocked at his words you grab his hand almost in a daze. You tell him your name and he repeats it back to you, making his way out of the bakery.

“I should hope to see you again, I’m told you have quite the palate.”

#robo writes #mortal kombat 1 #liu kang #TUMBLR INITIALLY DELETED THIS AND THEN I CHECK MY DRAFTS AND SOMEHOW IT WAS THERE????????#DESPITE THE FACT I CHECKED IT ALL WEEK AND IT WAS GONE????#baker au #liu kang x reader

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montcumbry-gaytor · 1 year

Text

Scar Tissue

Genji x Male!Reader smut

Summary : Reader is very talented in creating cybernetics, and assisted in creation of the omnics, in progress of Joining forces with overwatch, he meets Genji, who during a mission has his armour beat up, and comes to reader for assistance.

A/N : this was one of my ideas that I Shitposted Abt, so I'm very happy to start writing it

A/N : Pronouns for Reader are He/Him and Reader has a Penis

FEM ALIGNED DNI

@danjo-ao3 - asked for .3 on my lil prompt thing so this is for u </3

WARNINGS : Smut, Scars, Injury, Nightmares.

The Omnic war was a harsh one, Omnics fighting for their right to survive and Humans who hated their very existence fighting to make sure they never had the taste of peace.

It hurt your heart, beings you had helped to be created being treated so poorly, if it weren't for Overwatch, you would have no hope for humanity.

And for that reason you wasted no time joining their side when rumors spread like wildfire that the old overwatch leader, soldier 76 had been doing vigilante work, and old members were gathering again.

You set out to make improved armour for them all, finding Jack in his signature coat and yet little to no armor, was a little amusing, but you scolded him nonetheless.

You couldn't help being heavily intrigued by One man who had grouped up with Overwatch alongside a Omnic who's name wasn't foreign to you, Zenyatta had been a somewhat known Omnic, you had seen him from time to time in your younger days.

"Ah, I do remember you, it is very good to meet you again."

Zenyatta said, the robotic hum in his voice was comforting to hear again, like you were safe from the chaos.

"It's very good to see you again too, Zenyatta."

Every now and then through calm chit chat with Zen, you caught yourself eyeing the green light of the Strangers visor, eyes flicking back to Zenyattas in hopes whoever they were wouldn't notice, but of course, Zenyatta did.

"Let me introduce you to one of my Pupil, Genji."

He hummed, hand gesturing to the standing stranger, who's head peered down at you, you caught the cock of his head, as if he was studying you before speaking.

"Any friend of my Master's is a friend of mine, it's very good to meet you."

His voice hummed, a more humane accent to it, something you couldn't name.

"I could say the same."

You said, holding your hand out, Genji's hand coming to clasp yours and give it a firm shake before pulling away, bringing his hands back to his side.

Through the time you worked with Overwatch, you spent most of it with Zenyatta, which granted you time with Genji, who soon warmed up to you, as you did with him.

You found yourself spending more time alone with Genji, occasionally meeting in the kitchen area of the remote base as you stayed up unnecessarily late, and he woke very early.

You got to know him, more and more, finding that Hanzo, A black haired man who kept to himself around the base, was his older brother, Occasionally you'd stay up to listen to his stories, whether it be in the dead of night or whilst fixing plates of his armour that he had damaged.

From time to time, little brushes against eachother made your face heat up to your ears, finding yourself to like him more than just an acquaintance.

"I see you have found yourself interested in my Pupil."

Said Zenyatta, who hovered beside you as you rested on the roof of the base, you rolled your eyes, sometimes you didn't like how aware the omnics were made.

"I find myself interested in everybody, Zen."

"Everyone is interested in everyone, but with you and Genji, you are different."

"I know I can't lie to you."

You heard Zenyatta hum, sounding pleased at how defeated you were trying to hide something like that to him.

"I'm more than just interested, he's nice and easy to talk to, never have I found someone that I can talk to as easily as him, no offense, Zen."

"None taken, but I do understand, He has been more joyous since meeting you, I do believe you two could be happy together, I do not doubt it."

He hummed, hands clasped in his lap, though his facial expression stayed the same, you could feel his delighted energy radiate off of him.

Your attention turned to the van that had pulled into the base, the same one that had left since yesterday, it took Genji, Angela, and Jack with it.

You watched as genji had walked out, plating on his armour worse for wear, beaten in, bullet marks penetrating it's no longer polished surface.

You saw him look up in you and Zenyatta's direction, Your Omnic friend giving him a small rotate of his hand as a wave, while you nodded back at him, turning to make your way back inside.

When you made it to the main area, Genji stood as if he was waiting for you.

"You alright?"

"I could be better."

"I'm assuming Dr.Zeigler already cleared any injuries?"

You turned to the blonde doctor, who smiled and nodded.

"Let's get your armor fixed, again."

You joked, and began walking with Genji to your "Office" of sorts, comfortable silence carrying the two of you.

"You're lucky this is an easy fix, if this was anywhere else it'd be a pain in the both of our asses."

You said, removing the plating from the bulletproof underside, tossing it into a pile of scraps that had formed from other repairs.

"I luckily, have extras."

You said, clasping the new metal piece in your hands, slipping it neatly back onto the padding, making sure it stayed on properly.

"Your arm is luckily fine, and no one thought to shoot your twinkle toes."

You hummed, checking over everything else, noting to make up a new plate out of the old one if anything ever occurred.

Genji hopped off the little table he was on, your eyes meeting and your ears seemed to buzz as time felt as though it stilled, your face flushed as you realized how close the two of you had gotten, pulling away from him.

"Your repairs all finished, Try not to get shot as much next time." You said, the door sliding open as you approached it, gesturing for Genji to follow you out.

The day carried on as usual, the memory of how close he was that you could hear the artificial hum in his breathing stuck in your mind, your mind wandering to question what was underneath the mask of his.

You blushed at the thought of it, being shook out of your thoughts as a hand patted your shoulder, your head whipping around to meet Lena, who looked at you with a mix of concern and her casual friendliness.

"You alright 'Luv? You looked a little off."

She said, cocking her head to the side with a smile, as usual, her smile was contagious, a green twisting the ends of your lips to a smile.

"I'm alright, my minds just elsewhere, thank you though."

You replied, tucking hair behind your ear, you felt exhaustion creeping up behind you.

"Sounds like you're in for a nap, you seriously need more sleep luv, you're gonna get sick going on three hours like that."

"in my defense, it's four."

"You know what I mean, go get some rest."

You sighed in defeat, retreating back to your room and cuddling into the warmth of your bed, passing out before you even realized it.

You shot up, a mix of dizziness and a splitting headache piercing your sleep, rubbing your temples as your brain awoke, the digital clock that rested on your nightstand reading around Three in the morning.

Of course, you did sleep early, but you didn't expect to sleep as much as you did.

You pulled yourself from your bed, slipping out to the front of the base, back resting on the vine ridden metal plating, the nights cool breeze tickling your face.

It was nice, you thought, the burden of a war fell short to the calmness of the night, though that feeling of peace went disturbed for just a second as that familiar voice hummed from above you.

"Headache or a bad dream?"

Said Genji, who stood on the roof of the tiny building, dropping down to stand with you.

"bit of both, but I'm okay."

You said, leaning the crown of your head on the metal of the forgotten building.

"-Why are you up so early?"

"I could not sleep in the first place, I've been deep in thought."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You heard him sigh, but no answer, you took it as him not sure if he wanted to and took it as that, looking out at the flowing patches of overgrown grass.

"I have shown very little people.. myself, not just opening up, but.."

You eyed over as you caught glimpse of his hand coming up to hold at his mask, metal grazing over metal.

"You are someone I have come to find comforting, I cannot explain it- but, this is something I want you to see."

He sighed, his other hand coming up, both fingers wrapping to the back of his head, pushing down four cylinders on either side, a hissing sound leaking from his mask.

Brown eyes met yours, the moonlight hitting them perfectly, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Wow.."

You sighed, taking in the sight of genji unmasked, black tousled hair, thick yet taken care of eyebrows, long lashes that threatened to meet his eyebrows, eyes flicking down to eye his tongue run over his pink lips, a scar running from his chin to just below his eye.

Scars, they were littered all around his face, you could see his eyes drift away, as you stared.

"Genji.. you're beautiful.."

You whispered out, thought the quiet night made it feel so loud, you couldn't tell if it was the cold or if he was actually blushing.

"that is not something.. I've ever heard."

He admitted, chewing on his scarred lips, your heard did kickflips.

Hesitantly, you placed a hand to his chest, the other resting on his shoulder, bringing yourself up to give a chaste kiss to his lips, you felt ablaze, it just felt right, and you were half expecting to be shoved away.

"Oh-"

You snorted a little at how dumbfounded he was, his nervous smile making you giggle.

"I think you're beautiful Genji, with or without this."

You said, plucking the mask from his hands, leaning close once more, but not connecting your lips, seeing if Genji would reciprocate, your eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into you, chilling metal contrasting your warm flesh.

"I would like to show you more, if you would allow me."

"Of course, but let's take this to my quarters, M'kay?"

You said, placing another kiss on the outer edge of his eye, placing your hand to the holographic pad ATHENA had been programmed into, along with the rest of the old building.

The door slid open, welcoming you and Genji back into it's warmth, footsteps lightly patting through the halls to your room, the door opening once again with the touch of your hand.

You locked the door behind you with a touch, gently resting his mask on your dresser, eyeing Genji, as he came close to you once more, craning his neck down to kiss you, this time deeper, as if you had all the time in the world.

You slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him, hands slipping around his neck pulling the sleeve that protected the back of his head off, black fluffy hair sprouting from it.

"You're cuter like this, though I always thought of you with green hair."

"In what other ways did you think of me?"

He hummed, a grin evident on his lips, his canine teeth peeking out of his smile.

"Ways you couldn't imagine, but we could make it work."

You joked, a hand slipping down the plating of his body.

"As your mechanic for all armour and cybernetic paraphernalia, I know everything about your artificial body, even it's hidden functions."

You hummed, finger teasing over a little button on the inside of genjis metal thigh, causing him to shudder.

"I've thought about that the most."

You hummed, leaning up to kiss him before pulling away, pulling your shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor carelessly, eyes locked on Genji's, who's averted away from yours, a blush rising to his cheeks.

"Lay back on the bed."

You said, nodding towards your bed, watching as genji made his way to it, sitting on it and looking at you.

You kicked your shoes off, pulling your pants off and discarding them into a pile on the ground, your erection poking through the fabric, cool air contrasting your skin.

"I've been wanting to do this for such a long time."

You sighed, pressing your hand to genjis chest and pushing him down onto your bed, your fingers going back to the hidden button, a silicone type cock springing out.

Your fingers traced the details on it, Genji squirming under your touch.

"I wonder when you got this added, you've had it before I've met you, did you get Dr.Zeigler to do it?"

You teasingly hummed, stroking his artificial length, spitting onto your opposite hand, slipping it into your hole.

"Ah.. shit-"

You whispered out, forehead resting on Genji's leg as you prepped yourself, concentrating on the noises Genji made as you played with him.

Deciding you had gone long enough, you crawled up, slipping off your boxers, erection slipping free and grazing your stomach, your knees coming to straddle either side of genjis waist.

You shivered as genjis hands came to rest on your hips, grinding his cock in between your thighs, letting out small whines.

you lifted your hips, hovering over his tip, sinking down slowly as your ass rested on his thighs.

"Oo-oh.. fuck-"

"You feel amazing.."

Genji hummed, rubbing circles into your skin, both of you sitting in comfortable silence as you adjusted to his girth, eagerness hitting you as you began to bounce your hips at a comfortable pace, lewd noises spilling out of you.

It took a while to register that genjis hands had a death grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his shaft on his own, no longer needing you to work yourself on him.

Though it was minorly scary that he could lift you up like that on his own, he was a cyborg, so you couldn't be too surprised, not that you could think of that anyway while you were being used like a pathetic sex toy.

His name spilled from your lips, a pit forming in your stomach as you babbled incoherent words, both of you chasing your release, synthetic or otherwise.

Before long, cum spilled from your tip, falling onto the metal of genji's stomach, your walls tightening as genji fucked into you, synthetic semen spilling inside you.

You flopped onto the bed, curling into Genji, exhaustion catching up to you, glancing at your clock, it read to be 4:30am.

Yawning, you brought yourself back to genjis warmth, who brought an arm around you, tugging a blanket over you and watching you with adoration as you passed out.

A/N : hello ppls I wrote this in advance because not only am I sick but my mental state is ass, hope y'all enjoyed

#genji x male reader #genji shimada #male reader smut #smut #overwatch #im so sorry i didnt get this done #im facing the big depression ehe

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allsassnoclass · 7 months

Note

#2 from the drabble list!

alright, shaking things up! getting wild!

luztoye: "This makes it easier to identify them."

“Hey.”

Joe glances up from the crude spear he’s whittling as George flops down next to him, pack dropping to the ground with an encouraging thunk. Joe lets out a breath he’s been holding since George and Lipton set out early in the morning.

“Got anything good?” he asks, surreptitiously checking George over for injuries. His shoulders are slumped and there are dark circles under his eyes, but his skin looks smooth and unbroken, even under the few bruises and smudges of dirt adorning it.

“Maybe,” George replies, pulling the pack towards him and unzipping it. “I might be able to fix the radio now, if we’re lucky. Got some wires, tools, and a switch. Found a pair of scissors in case Doc needs them once we regroup. Grabbed a few more maps, some protein bars that seem alright, more dish soap… Not much, but it was pretty picked over and we couldn’t stay long. Lip spotted some zombies in the distance.”

Joe nods grimly, peering at the tangle of wires crawling over all of the other items in the pack.

“Nixon’ll throw you a party if you can get that radio working. You missed another briefing about connecting with that group across the ridge.”

“Yeah? He say anything useful?”

Joe shakes his head.

“Just that another colony of zombies has moved between us and more bullshit over being sure no one shoots a human when we do eventually move.”

“Remember,” George says in a pretty good impression of Nixon, “zombies are pale, undead, and trying to eat your face off. This makes it easier to identify them.”

Joe snorts, turning back to his spear. They’re running low on bullets, but Nixon is getting antsy about reconnecting with the group across the ridge. They need weapons, no matter how crude.

Joe never met the group across the ridge that everyone seems so eager to get back to. He has no clue who Richard Winters is, or Ronald Speirs, or Bill or Buck or Talbert or a million other names that have been thrown around since he fell in with George’s group a few weeks ago. He may not be missing anyone over there, but he knows the value of safety in numbers. If George hadn’t found him camped out while scouting for more supplies for that damned radio, he’d probably be dead by now. It’s difficult for a guy with one leg to outrun an entire colony of zombies even when he’s well-fed and well-rested, but Joe’s supplies were dwindling.

From the way the others talk about it, the group across the ridge is sitting pretty in a gated area that they’ve fashioned into paradise. They have a garden, chickens, a doctor’s office, and enough people making supply runs that it almost feels like before the outbreak. George says that their small group got separated on the biggest supply run they’ve ever attempted while trying to find if there are other groups of survivors in the region. It was supposed to be a three-day expedition, but they’ve been camped out in an abandoned warehouse for nearly a month.

“God, Joe, I can’t wait for you to meet the others,” George sighs wistfully. “They’re gonna love you. You and Bill are going to get on like a wildfire. Don, too. Winters is going to want to know everything you saw out there. And can you imagine sleeping in a proper bed, or at least a mat instead of the floor every night?”

Joe hums.

“I’d let you share my mattress if we don’t have enough,” George offers. “I’ve been known to hog the blankets, though.”

“I’ve been told I snore,” Joe says, refusing to imagine actually getting under the covers with George. He hasn’t gotten this far in life by indulging in useless fantasies.

“Aren’t we a match made in heaven,” George says dryly.

“Won’t happen unless you get that radio working and let Nixon compare notes with his boyfriend,” Joe reminds him, testing the point of his spear. It’s not much, but it’ll do in a pinch as long as the person doing the stabbing puts some effort into it. It probably won’t kill a zombie, but it’ll sure slow them down.

“Yeah, yeah,” George says, closing the pack and getting his feet under him. “Duty calls. No rest for the wicked, and all that.”

He gives Joe a lazy salute and hefts the pack up on his shoulder. Joe watches him walk away, eyes roaming over as much of his back and he can see with the large camo jacket covering it. George glances back and catches him at it, raising his eyebrows with a smile.

“I could always use the company, if you want to carve some sticks by the tech area instead of getting wood shavings all over where we sleep.”

Joe doesn’t consider himself good company on the best day, but he’s starting to get the idea that he’ll do whatever George suggests.

George doesn’t wait to see if Joe gets up to join him. Joe tests the point of his spear again, then sighs and grabs his crutch, hauling himself up to follow.

#my writing #luztoye #band of brothers #it has been YEARS since i posted anything for bob #but when i originally asked for these prompts i said if you didn't specify i'd do another fandom #so! luztoye zombie au i guess! why not!!!!

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genz420 · 1 year

Text

The Fire That Burns With Us - Chapter 94: Heirs To The Throne.

Master List

Pervious Part - Next Part

138 - Casterly Rock

Securing the Rock and its Ports was easier than Visenya thought it would be. It seemed that the proud lion that is Jason Lannister had marched South to aid the Hightowers, which in turn left his dear wife and daughters alone in their fortress.

Dalton had been all too happy in burning all that was left of the Lannister fleet. To see Visenya in the addicting green glow once again. While she may have been on Morghon aiding with dragonfire, it was enough for him.

The Lady Lannister had done her best to barricade the gates, but they had not prepared for dragon fire to rain from the sky. While the flames from Morghon and Cannibal were not and would never be able to burn away the fortress, it was enough to scare the people within it. Visenya the first had been right about not being able to dishearten the lords of the rock with their dragons. But making them extra toasty while they watched their fleet burn green with dragonfire and wildfire was a sure way to burn away any hope that the resistance of the Rock had, that they would be on the winning side of the war.

Ben and Visenya had both decided that it would be best for Ben to watch over the Ironborn as they raided the port while Visenya stayed in the air, ready for any dragon to show up. Though she highly doubts that Dreamfyre or Sunfyre would be showing up, there is always the chance that Daemon or Rhaenyra could try and claim this victory.

Visenya wasn’t too worried about the other younger dragon riders on the Black's side. Baela would most likely be dealing with seeking revenge for their grandmother in the form of patrolling the same area as Meleys and Rhaenys once did. Joffrey is far too young to mount his dragon for war or what had been left of his dragon after Cannibal.

Visenya had thought that Jace would have taken longer in the north or Cregan or Aly would keep him there rather than letting the Blacks have another dragon on their side. She had been hoping that they would continue to be allies in the shadows, but she also understands that holding a prince hostage in the north wasn’t something that would play well with Rhaenyra.

Visenya should have known her older brother would do anything to stay on the podium that Rhaenyra had placed him on. That he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to fly Vermax South, not back to Dragonstone but rather to the Rock.

Jace had been lucky that Cannibal had given the fleet his full attention, and Morghon still holds Vermax dear to his heart. That Morghon didn’t seem to understand that the dragon he grew up with was now, in fact, his enemy and that Visenya still has a love for her brother in her heart.

Perhaps, Jace should have returned to Dragonstone and stayed in the north under the safety of guests right. He knows Cregan would not have harmed him so long he was under his roof. Or he should have gone through the Vale for safety, though he had heard of the rising of Vale houses after the failure of protecting noble houses against Criston Cole.

But the pride he had inherited was controlling him, to win a victory for his losing side.

So that is why he had flown so close to Visenya and Morghon. To reason with her and convince her to give him this victory.

But he could see two things when he had flown close enough to Morghon and Visenya. That the rumours that Visenya had claimed another dragon was true and that the coronation at Harrenhal had occurred.

Visenya had been wearing her crown like Rob had asked; she felt silly. There was no way that the conquerors had worn their crowns when in battle, but it sent the Ironborn into a killing frenzy.

Visenya was quick enough to leave the battle when she spotted Jace and Vermax, not wanting to send Cannibal into a frenzy and risk her brother's life. Finding a clearing had not been easy, but once she had landed, Visenya had taken off her crown.

One of the braces had locked shortly after the battle had started, leaving her only one hand to defend herself. However, she does doubt that Jace would attack her.

Getting off Morghon had not been easy, but seeing Jace was worse. He and Visenya meets between the two dragons, Jace staring at Morghon as he moves toward Vermax. He can only hope Morghon had not picked up any eating habits from the Cannibal.

Jace must admit seeing Visenya; he understands why so many stand with her. Even without the crown she had been wearing, she looked like a queen, with shiny armour that he assumes is new with their family sigil on her chest plate.

Visenya doesn’t care what her brother is wearing; she only wants to embrace him once she is close enough.

“I’m giving you a chance to leave and return to Dragonstone,” Visenya tells her brother, trying to keep her voice steady.

She doesn’t want to appear weak in front of her big brother for two reasons: Jace is her big brother, whom she still looks up to and the fear bubbling in her stomach. Fear that Jace would turn on her, but if her sister could see past her loyalty to Rhaenyra, then maybe so can Jace.

The choice to return to Dragonstone would be Jace's smartest move, leaving now while the Cannibal is still distracted and Visenya void of protection that would kill him the second he is spotted.

But he refuses to return to Dragonstone without some kind of victory.

“I am not a coward,” Jace tells Visenya. Venom laced together with his words.

Visenya had not called him that, but he swears by their gods that he could see it in her eyes. He knows deep down that their family sees him as such. He has never witnessed a battle or fought against someone in a life-or-death situation. The closest he had come to that is when he had faced off against Aemond when they were still children.

Even flying above the battle and raiding that the Reds had initiated made his stomach uneasy, the heart-wrenching screams of people dying or being tortured with the laughter of the Ironborn mixed in would be burned into his mind for the rest of his days.

“No, you are a stupid man,” Visenya snaps at him; if Jace wanted to pick a fight with her, so be it. “I’m the more experienced dragon rider, and Cannibal will not care that you are my brother; he will only care that you are riding a snack,”

“I shouldn’t expect anything from a Kinslayer's wife,” Jace fires back. He had heard while in the north that Visenya had welcomed her husband onto her side and back into her bed.

How she can stomach even being around Aemond, Jace does not know. If he had been in Visenya's position, he would have killed Aemond as revenge for Luke.

“This is your last warning Jace; return to Dragonstone,” Visenya's voice is more stable now, stronger and the same tone she would take with a soldier disobeying her. Maybe she could get through to him and prevent more bloodshed within the family.

“I hope your children are spared from you. No child should be raised by someone who has no morals when it comes to family,” Jace tells her; he is close enough to watch the recoil of his words on Visenya's face.

Jace doesn’t know why he thought his words would be a good idea to say to his sister. Maybe it is because he sees she is void of any kind of weapon, and that means she can not hurt him. Maybe the years he spent in her shadow made him want to hurt her in some way.

Visenya could spit more evil words at her brother, mentioning how he is illegitimate and his father is dead, but that would make her no better than him or even Rhaenyra. She could hit him, try and take him on in a fight; she is sure that she could win and that the braces she wears would deal some damage. But she won’t inflict the same hurt on Jace as he has on her.

Instead, she could convince him to join her or maybe plant a seed of doubt in his blind loyalty to Rhaenyra. Visenya could tell Jace about the horrors she had to endure while at Dragonstone, the fact that Rhaenyra had killed Jaehaerys before Helaena, or her own attempt on her son. But none would make Jace waver.

But the truth of Ser Laenor could spark a fire within him.

“They didn’t kill him,” Visenya tells him, her voice contrasting in tone to her previous one.

“What?”

“They lied to us about our-Ser Laenor being killed,” Visenya tells Jace, careful with her wording. She doesn’t even know if Jace knows the truth or if he would even care about the fact if he didn’t already know. “Sent him to the Free cities so that they could marry,”

Jace watches Visenya's face for some kind of twitch, telling him that Visenya is lying. But there is no twitch. No waiver of eye contact. She is telling him the truth.

“You’re lying,” Jace says, shaking his head.

She has to be lying about this. There is no way that their mother would lie to him about this. Would allow him and his siblings to endure that grief all those years.

“Why would I lie about that?” Visenya asks him; she doesn’t know why he thinks she would even fathom this lie. “You know that I only saw him as my father and that I never forgave them for what I thought they did,”

“I have no-”

“He’s back and siding with me. I’m not like them, and I will not keep this from you,” Visenya cuts him off, stepping closer to her brother with her heavy hand on his arm.

Jace would like to think that he knows his little sister well. That she hasn’t changed in the years, she has been away, but he knows the truth. She had been forced to mature much faster than he had, and she had duties that he would never understand. She has raised two children and birthed another.

Jace wished that he had done the same as Visenya. Gone to war. Made allies. Married and have children, but he didn’t. Instead, he spent years on Dragonstone, learning a language that still doesn’t make sense and “trained” with his little brother.

“I have failed to rally the North. Lord Stark isn’t going to march south until you either sit on the throne or are dead,” Jace tells Visenya, though he doubts that she doesn’t already know.

“I know,” Visenya answered, her eyes filled with sorrow for him.

She knows that Cregan would never break his father's oath to Rhaenyra, but he may show his support in delaying the arrival of his men. Or maybe Aly would charm her husband into protecting their friends.

“I need to take Lannisport,” Jace says. “I can’t return empty-handed. I can’t be a failure,”

“Then join me,” Visenya pleads. “You wouldn’t be a failure to me,”

Visenya lets her words hang in the air, waiting for Jace to agree with her, but Visenya nods to her brother, pulling her gaze away from him as she turns away from him. She had been hoping that Jace would join her, that he would see that this war would be the death of their dynasty. Even if they win, the houses of the realm will look at them differently now.

“Where are you going?” Jace asks as Visenya turns her back to him.

Jace should draw his sword and drive it through her back, killing the leader of the Reds. But then he would be killing his sister. His baby sister.

“I am going back East, but Dalton and the Iron Fleet won’t leave,” Visenya answers her brother, she knows that in her time away, Aemond must be worrying. “Don’t get yourself killed,”

“Tell Lord Greyjoy to leave and allow me to take the victory of the Rock,” Jace pleads with Visenya. Hoping that she would listen to him.

Jace watches Visenya back with a soft gaze; he knows that Visenya has the power to call off the Red Kraken and allow him to claim this victory. All she would need to do is fly her dragon down and tell him to leave.

But Visenya would not do that. Her victory is a sign of good faith with the Ironborn and Dalton. If Jace wants a victory of his own, then he can fly south and burn the Lannister army.

“I need the Lannisters' fleet to burn and them to understand their treason,” Visenya tells her brother as she makes her way to Morghon.

“When the time comes to take King’s Landing, will you take to the skies and fight for the throne?” Jace asks as he makes his way to Vermax. Maybe he can burn the Iron Fleet to the ground, making that his victory.

Visenya waits, thinking about what she would do. She knows she would win in an air fight and has the three largest dragons. She has given Jace a free pass that she would not be giving out again.

“If I am challenged, then I will,” Visenya answers as her attention goes towards the raiding or, more so, the sky above it. Cannibal had long burned the port and fleet and would soon come to find her, no doubt to make Jace and Vermax a snack.

“Then let our gods protect you,” Jace tells his sister; war is war, and he would do what he needs to get his mother on the throne and him after.

“And you, brother,”

The histories would debate what truly happened that day at the Rock.

The loyalist to the Reds would claim that as a sign of good faith, Visenya was unarmed, and Jacaerys tried to claim her life in revenge for their little brother Lucerys. They would claim she stopped her brother and fled on her dragon and that she tried to stop the Red Kraken from using the scorpions on his fleet and even screamed at the Cannibal to leave. That was not responsible for what happened after their meeting.

The loyalist to the Blacks would claim that the meeting never took place, that Prince Jacaerys flew in from the North. That Visenya and her forces were waiting for him, and the second the Prince arrived on his dragon, he was attacked—scorpions from the Iron Fleet and crossbows from the Ironbron on the ground. Overwhelmed by the air, it gave a perfect chance for Visenya to command Cannibal to attack her brother and eat Prince Jacaerys and his dragon in one bite. They would claim that she was a Kinslayer and that it was the day that Visenya Targaryen’s coin finally flipped.

— —

Across the realm, at Dragonstone, the rogue prince was done sitting in his castle. Done hearing Lords talk about the future battles.

He has a sour taste in his mouth and a burning for blood in his veins. A burning that Crexas could feel.

There would be fire and blood. Green or Red. A dragon and its rider would die at the hands of the Rogue Prince and the Blood Wyvern.

Taglist:

@tempt-ress @kassies-take

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