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yoursinfulurges · 11 months

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Enchantress

Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: You would guard your throne from vultures no matter the cost and so the games begins. In which Aemond Targaryen regrets making an enemy of his wife.

Aemond is a cheating hoe. No one wanted this I just really wanted to write some angst. As always your features and ethnicity is not mentioned, background is not specified but you are a highborn. After the Serpentine series I wanted something spicy.

Word count: 8.1k

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By nature you were a patient person, taking great diligence in ensuring emotions doesn't overcome your judgment. But as the hour grows late your forbearance for your husband had begun to wear thin. It nears twelve and you had been waiting for Aemonds return for well over three hours now. With every passing minute you find yourself drowning in madness as you draw a blank on where or what he was up to. Succumbing to the ill thoughts on your mind as the flickering dance and crackle of the fire floods your senses. You're tired, you're anxious and your ears are ringing yet you still sat unmoving. Why?

There was no doubt that the man in question confused you to no end, nevertheless you still made sure to act accordingly and play the part of his wife. Although you're finding it increasingly hard to upkeep the role of his good little lover when the man is hardly in your presence. It was true that your marriage with Aemond was one out of political leverage, but you still did your best to care for him. Always making sure your relationship was fostered and tended to in the hopes of something blossoming.

You had faith that he would grow fonder of you as the years went on, but with every passing day that thought was challenged. It had been a long journey but without fail you acted kind and loving towards him no matter the expense. Valuing your relationship with Aemond a great deal, you were willing to do anything for him.

Even endure his callous behaviors towards you.

It was no secret that the prince was rather displeased with your union. For a man that preached the importance of preforming duty, he was awfully bad at it. You had been wedded for almost half a year now and have yet to consummate the marriage. Not that you weren't willing to, the problem lies with your husband. It was plain to see behind closed doors that he did not take you seriously.

In his eye this marriage was a joke, you were but strangers at best due to his lack of effort. Now you know not of the origins of his distant behavior but you've tried your best to minimize them. Dragging Aemond off to accompany you on walks around the castle, asking him to join you for lunch; everyday without faltering you tried.

But to no avail, your attempts does little to dull the wall between you two. He doesn't interact with you unless it was mandatory or for show, displayed little emotions past cordial. And god forbid laying a hand on you was the end of the fucking world. Was this who Aemond Targaryen was? Cold and cynical? Deprived of all that makes a person human. Every time you looked at him he was a ghost, fading into the background slipping from your grasp. He was untouchable, invisible. His self-righteous aura creating a vortex around him.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to become apparent to the ladies in court. Everyday without fail they would voice their concerns, asking you if you were being mistreated. Of course you lie, a task that comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would since you had little ties with your husband. Though it makes you wonder if Aemond also found it easy to lie to you....

The thought gets lost on you as an intrusive sound rings through your chambers. Brows furrowing at the disturbance, why would Aemond feel the need to knock on your shared room? The train was rather absurd so it leads you into thinking that it wasn't him paying you a visit. Much to your disappointment. With confusion in your voice, you call out to the visitor.

"Come in." Anxiously bringing your palms together on your lap. Your fingers locked themselves in a manner of worry, squeezing tightly as you prepare yourself. Soon the door opens and in follows Ser Larys Strong. His pronounced way of walking evident as the cane hits the ground harshly. The sound announcing and intrusive, almost counting down the seconds before he reaches you.

"I am sorry to intrude on your private time my Lady, especially when the hour is so late but I fear this matter cannot wait till dawn." He smiles sympathetically although you do not like implications behind it. You notion for him to sit across from you, watching the scene carefully. You don't utter a word as he moves to take his place. Ser Larys's visits are always prompted.... And by the look on his face it reads that he knows something you don't... That fact slightly unnerved you...

"I thought this news would be best heard if it were from me.... From a friend..." Bullshit. Larys always had an ulterior motive, he liked cultivating favors from the court only for them to owe him in return. No doubt that he was a sick man that enjoyed manipulating others, finding power in mind games in a way that he cannot with the sword. You were far from friends but played the game together. He only viewed you so highly because you were one of the only people the didn't fall for his lures and cryptic words.

"I take it this news is not pleasant." Lifting a brow at him in question, you kept your manner strong and imposing. He swallows and nods his head briefly, averting his gaze from you to look at the floor.

"Earlier today.... Prince Aemond was caught indulging a servant girl in Harrenhal." He says the words carefully though no amount of safe keeping can withhold your anger. Larys words were vague but you understood clearly what he meant. Shaking in your seat, you calm yourself. Or at least tried to....

You were going to fucking kill him.

"Ah.... I see... Who else knows?" Your words come out strained. Tone cut and tense, implying that you were holding back an outburst as tears of anger slowly clouds your gaze. What did you honestly expect? Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, vision tunneling as rage began crawling up your center. For a moment your breath stills, the abyss captivating you before you snap out of it and focusing on Ser Larys once more. He says nothing as he watches the fire burn, avoiding your venomous stare.

"Just you and me." He nods slowly, finally looking at you, only to drop his gaze soon after. He was uncomfortable beyond measure... His mouth opens to say something once more but stops to take in your shape. You clutched at the chair with a murderous grip, nails digging into the stained leather. Slowly he met your unmoving eyes, taken aback by the poison swimming amongst them. Gods be good... That look never meant well. The tension was heavy and for a moment Larys feared for his own life. You were not sad nor disheartened, instead you were seething in hatred. The room fogs with something unpleasant as the walls welcomed the illness like an old friend. Such atmosphere was suffocating as he watched you shake in retribution, no doubt planning your next calculating moves.

Vengeance. That was all you wanted. Many questions plagued your mind, had you not been good enough for him? You've done all that you could to please him and yet he disrespect your name with his adultery. You honestly didn't know what to say, it wasn't like this was much of a shock to you since a part of you always had suspicions. But you dismissed those thoughts as nothing but intrusive and toxicant. Yet to hear the words out loud coming from a reputable man such as Ser Larys Strong was much different than you telling yourself. Larys was many things but he was not a liar. His words always had claim and a backbone, despite how distasteful the intentions behind them may be. You could not care less about what he wants to get out of you, what you want to know is what else he's keeping locked away. And what will it take to get him talking.

"The servant that caught them and sent for a raven was found killed under.... suspicious circumstances... I only received both letters now, of the girls retelling and of her death.... A dagger through the mouth what an awful way to go..." Larys speaks when you don't, watching the way you thought in silence. He wondered what you were thinking, for he was one of the only people that knew your true nature. You were a murderous woman, manipulative, vigilant, and vengeful... Behind those stupid smiles and shy fronts was an enchantress, turning the tides in her favor. And now an outsider trespasses on your waters. Larys knows more than anything that you were willing to guard your throne from vultures at any cost.

You didn't like coming second to anybody, and for a moment he prays for the prince...

"I understand that this must be difficult for you, but if you are ever in need... I'll be sure to be of service in this trying time..." You scoff at that, the sound reverberating through the room. There it was. The bait he dangles so tempting in front of foolish fish.

"At what cost Ser Larys, I am no fool. I know everything from you must always come at a price." Holding your chin up high, you crossed your arms and leaned back into your seat. Having calmed down a little, you plan a rainstorm of hell fire.

"Not this time... You see, this girl that had somehow managed to enthrall the prince.... She is a nuisance on my side so you can insure my allegiance is with you. As Lord of Harrenhal I make it a point to know everything and anything going on in my own castle, even if I'm not present. I can ensure you that I have eyes everywhere." You ignore the way your stomach turns at the thought of someone else captivating Aemond as you thought on his proposal. It would be quite useful to have someone with such connections on your side. Shaking your head as you corrected yourself. There were no sides nor factions, you were not at war with Aemond. Yet.

"Can you tell me the name of this girl?"

"She goes by Alys Rivers, you may know of her...." It was almost comical enough to force a laugh.

A bastard Strong... How truly ironic and cliche. It would seem that the very vendetta he had against his own nephews would be the cause of his own demise. The pain that rushed through you didn't burn anymore, instead it courses through your veins in bittersweetness, fueling your vengeance and need for revenge. You didn't care all that much about closure, instead looking for all the ways you can induce the same pain onto Aemond. You were patient to a fault, all the unwanted emotions manifesting into pettiness and spite.

To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must be precise and conniving, you couldn't afford any spill ups. In truth the stature he built of himself was great; intimidating, undying, a menace. But beneath all that you knew he was still the same little boy that got bullied for not having a dragon. Scars like that cannot be grown out of, especially when they've left such permanent imprints on him. You were not going to evoke One Eye Aemond who rides the largest dragon, but rather the young little boy he held so dearly to his heart. That was the Aemond you wanted to hurt. Not the man that gave you blank stares and barely spoke any words to you. Not the man that dares call himself your husband when he has not deserved the name. The neglected outcast freak, that was who you were going to murder.

How dare he choose her over you. Suddenly it clouds your vision. All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. Your inability to think clear, the pride and pain of being his wife. Your lust and distaste for the man that caused you such pain. It ruptures your heart. You would trade love for greed just to induce the same feelings onto him. Oh how you wanted to ruin him. Ruin her for him. By the end of it you wanted him begging at your knees, crying apologies. Who does Alys Rivers think she was to steal your husband away from you. And who does Aemond think he was to assume you wouldn't retaliate. Or perhaps he knew and simply didn't care... That was a common theme in your husband, not caring about you. He was more of a fool than you thought of if he thinks you were just going to stand for this and take it.

No. You wanted an eye for an eye. Or more plainly, a heart for a heart.

"Her existence threatens you." Speaking lowly as you projected your thoughts onto Ser Larys. You aren't the only one to have a reason to hate the aforementioned wench. You may be hazed with hatred but you are not blind. There was a reason Ser Larys chose to come to you instead of Aemond with this information. Without him you wouldn't have known anything, and surely the favor of a prince would be worth more than you could ever give him. Yet he came knocking at your door.

"I am the sole heir to my fathers title, if that bastard had somehow managed to persuade the prince then my very seat is challenged. An outsider amongst the natives. I need to ensure my status, my lady. Can I trust you on this." His words were frantic almost, his long brown hair falling over his face as he leaned in close. Ser Larys was pleading, in his own way...

"You can. Now, my friend... what will you have me do?" The smile that spread across your face was sinister as you prompted his guidance. Though it was more rhetorical, you knew what had to be done.

"Seduce Aemond. Capture his attention enough so that he begins to question his love for her." Love? Was that burned between them? Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you thought on it more. It wasn't a bad design, far better than you stabbing a knife through Alys in front of Aemond. Only one minor flaw.

"And how shall I manage to do that!? The man can barely look at me!"

"To the unseeing eye it appears that way. Though the amount of times I've caught his gaze lingering longer than it should is great. You are a smart woman y/n, I'm sure you can figure out a way to break through his barrier."

Could it be that all this time you just hadn't noticed him looking at you? Regardless that was irrelevant as you pondered your first move. You and Larys had the advantage, Aemond doesn't know that you knew of his infidelity. And as far as you're aware your image as his good little wife was still intact, so perhaps you would play into that role more. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize that you've grown stiff as a board. It dulls you as you realize that you've come to be the very woman you pray for. Desperately lost in their marriage. Endlessly dreaming, hoping one day Aemond would come around and play pretend with you. He was taking advantage of you without you knowing it. He sees your very being as something he can twist and turn in his palm like one of his daggers.

At a certain point he was bound to get cut.

To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must hurt that little boy. It had been weeks since your night with Ser Larys and silently you had been scheming. So far you remained indifferent, trying hard to make sure you aren't faltering by acting the same. It was a hard task that you've come to dread as you knew the cold truth behind his behaviors. At day he would be with you, by night he would be deep in her. You only began to notice the missing hours in your days and curse yourself for being so foolish. You thought long and hard about how you were going to approach the situation. Dissecting your husband under a magnifying glass whilst hiding behind timid smiles. And soon enough your praying and mute jealousy had manifested into the form of a golden haired beast bearing red and gold.

Ser Tyrin Lannister...

A handsome, charming young lord that has come to pay the crown a visit... Though you saw him for what he truly was, a prideful and egotistical man that's blinded by arrogance. The perfect pawn for your game. Truthfully, you only picked him out because he beared such acute resemblance to prince Aegon. The only difference in appearance was instead of the famed silver hair his was pure gold. You hoped that your choice of companion would strike a nerve with Aemond, seeing that he's spent so much of his youth being tormented by the image of the man.

And by the way he was glaring daggers at you and Tyrin, your expectations fall true. It was easy to manipulate the Lannister with sugar coated words and flirtatious giggles, the problem lied with Aemond taking the bait. Up until this point you were basically going off theory, but now you can trust that Aemond was a possessive man.

Your laugh rings through the room as you giggle at something Tyrin whispered in your ear. The man was indeed charismatic which made talking to him easy enough. If you hadn't diluted him to nothing but a playing piece you would have found yourself actually enjoying his company. You had been acquainted for quite some time now, ever since his first arrival, and everyday without fail you were with him. Slowly but surely you had began replacing Aemond with Tyrin in your life. It was him you went on walks with, it was him you dinned with. There was no doubt that Lannisters had vanity and he was aware of it, he was aware of how his gracious gifts won you over and softened you. Or so he thought. In weeks time you had managed to accumulate a collection of gold and ruby jewelries from the man himself.

Something Aemond has not taken kindly to, seeing the way his jaw would clench everytime you adorned the treasures. At this point you had purposely made a show of it, parading in a red and gold gown with massive ruby earrings dangling from your ears. All while you showcased a brilliant ruby and gold choker around your neck. You looked more like Tyrin's wife than Aemond's and perhaps that was your goal. Though honestly your endgame gets lost on you as you're having so much fun toying with him. No doubt Aemond had begun to pick up on your absence and it was hilarious to see. His worries and insecurities must've gotten the best of him because now you can't go anywhere without him trailing behind. He was always there, watching in silence, perhaps judging you but you did not care. The fact of the matter was, whatever you were doing was working.

"If you stare any longer I'm sure a fire will start to burn." Aegon says dryly from beside his brother, looking down at his empty chalice before placing it down all together. The elder rolled his eyes at the familiar 'hmmm' that escaped Aemond as he opens his mouth to say something but he turns mute. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the sight.

Contrary to popular belief, Aegon was not a complete fucking asshole. Well... sometimes he wasn't... He sensed his brothers discomfort greatly and although he didn't want to pry, he wanted to know what laid within the inner workings of Aemond's mind. Call it care or intrigue, but he loved gossip like an old widowed wife. Fact of the matter was, Aegon Targaryen was painful self aware and it didn't take much to figure out that Tyrin Lannister was him in lions clothing. Of course Tyrin was him if he actually tried and excelled at things. His drunken habits aside, he wanted to know why his sister in law was so taken by him with golden hair....

"He looks like me..." Aegon turns to his brother only to notice him swiftly walking away at his words. He turns to the man once more, brows pulling in contempt. Maybe he should have been born a Lannister....

To say that Aemond was irritated was an understatement. It was all so ridiculous. The fact that you were throwing yourself so carelessly for a man such as that imbecile. All Lannisters were dazzling armors with nothing truly potent inside. They were blinded by shine and glimmer just as much as everyone else was from their looks. He wouldn't admit it out loud but the resemblance Ser Tyrin had to his brother was uncanny. And he wouldn't dare admit that these unbecoming feelings were derived from that fact alone. Call Aemond what you will, a bitter husband, a possessive man, but he did not like what was playing out in front of him.

Over the passing weeks you had devoted your attention to that man and him alone. From the moment you awoke you were dressed in red and gold, throughout the day you were by his side. He no longer saw you and you no longer sought for his attention. He thought it'd be nice, to finally get you off his back but everyday he grows increasingly impatient. Were you not his wife? He knows he doesn't have a proper claim over you especially with how he's been acting but he still owned his emotions. And he was allowed to feel however he wanted to. Although he doesn't speculate any infidelity from your end, mainly because you weren't the type in his eye, it was plain that you were taken by a lion. Whether you knew it or not, you were dancing with a beast and Aemond would not take such defeat.

In all honesty, he's certain you aren't fucking Tyrin. Now perhaps that was just wishful thinking fueling his denial but you weren't exactly the type. All your marriage he's known you as nothing but dull... The perfect embodiment of who his parents wanted him to marry. Kind, respectable, a push over... In his opinion you were devoted to a fault. Seeing you as nothing but mindless doll who had no other choice but to fall in line and agree with whoever owned them. Hence why when seeking companionship he purposely chose some the exact opposite of you. Alys was older by a few years and had all the experience he craved. It was no question why that he sought for her instead of you. Word around the castle was that you were thought to be too pious to succumb to sins of temptation unless duty was in order.

He hadn't meant to grow so attached to Alys but she was exhilarating. Everytime they were apart he yearned for her body. She was captivating and alluring in all senses, intoxicating him. With long brown hair and a figure that could make the gods envious, she held him with a death grip. His Alys. Aemond knew that what he had with her wasn't love but more so addiction, but he didn't care what it was just as long as he got to have more of it. The differences between you and Alys were stark to see, you were at polars end. But what drawned him to her was the fact that she was so aware of her touch. He liked women that knew how to wield a weapon, and he quite honestly couldn't picture you doing the same. They called her many names for her beauty, searing her as a witch for her dominion over man.

If he wanted an enchantress you would give it to him. You would be better than Alys in every way imaginable. If he wanted someone who can satisfy him then you would drive him into the brink of madness with your touch. You wanted to suffocate and flush out Aemond Targaryen till he was no more than a shell. It started off slow. Switching your clothing in favor of another, something more hugging and accentuating. Your old gowns so colorful and modest were now replaced with darker tones that showed off your body well. It was an odd switch but you felt more comfortable this way strangly enough.

Then you traded innocent stares for something more bidden, your once doe eyes turning siren as you realize the effects of you had. Perhaps Aemond cheating on you was a blessing in disguise. You only now realize how good it felt to be wanted. All throughout court, men and women a like would fall in line for you. They would bow if you commanded so. You looked like someone to be taken seriously and not so much like a walking virtue. Everytime you entered a room eyes would be on you, the silent respect your new aura demanded was intoxicating. You knew who you were and what you were capable of, it was time for them now to know too.

It was empowering. You felt Immortal and unchallenged. To have them speak so nervously to you, the shy stares and permanent blushes. Your new change had prompted many curiosities but what captures people so was your attitude. Cunning, sly and quick witted, all the aspects of your being that you suppressed. You had never felt this in control all your life, like the tides were moved by your will.

All your life you've been taught to be one way despite your true wishes. You painted yourself as the image of what a lady was supposed to be without understanding why you were doing it. Or who you were doing it for. Perhaps this is why the change was so liberating, because you no longer chose to hide yourself. Maybe this was who you were all along and just needed a push to embrace it. You no longer felt like you were wearing a mask and truthfully you don't think you could ever put it on again. Not when they all doted around you. Not they all craved for you. Not when you had such power over desires.

They all fell into line... all but Aemond.... but you had something special for him. For now you let his judgment cloud him. You doubt that he's picked up on your facade faltering. It was quite strange to embrace the very values your teaching went against. Sensuality, unkept emotions, temptation. Having been guided to act one way only to realize that people yearned for the other more. To switch from being subdued to domineering. You no longer let people tell you what to do and how truly inebriating it was.

〄

"You are intoxicating...."

You know not how much time has passed, only consumed on Tyrin's lips as he grasped your body all over. Laughing when his teeth grazed your neck, you threw your head back in bliss. Maybe this was what the Septa was trying to keep you away from, the overwhelming sensations of sex. It rushes through you, sending your skin on fire in it's wake. God, he knew how to please you so. Giggling into your ear as his golden locks curtain the sinful things he whispered, Tyrin's fingers expertly yanks your skirt up. You let him pin you to the bed, a stupid smile spreading across your face. If such an act was so bad then why on earth did it feel so good?

How exhilarating it was to be desired, to be wanted and fondled with care. And to think, all this time you had spent rotting away in your bed chambers waiting for Aemond. If he would not satisfy you then you would satisfy yourself, fulfillment taking the form of a rogue lover. Perhaps it was messy to set your eyes on the men of the court but maybe that's what you wanted. You like the thrill of getting caught, liked the rumors that murmured through the halls. Although you hadn't slept with anyone but Tyrin, you couldn't contain yourself from teasing the occasional lord and lady. Naturally, word got around of your effects and of you and Tyrin's speculated affairs. And not so long after, word finally traveled to your dear stupid husband. Though it wasn't until he caught you in the middle of the act did he finally take it seriously. Up until this point they were but toothless claims, not believing his tight laced wife would ever be capable enough to find her own back bone.

"Faster.... faster..." You say through half lidded eyes, blurry vision locked onto the man in between your legs. Your fingers intertwined with his golden hair as you guide his head at your will. Body heaving and grinding up against his mouth. You pull at your skirts more to get a better view of his face.

All was falling into place and you would make your first strike as footsteps approached up the hall. You were nearing ecstasy as your eyes stay trained onto the door. You had perfectly timed everything and in a manner of seconds you would land such a blow so harsh that it would shatter Aemonds views of you. His boring and dull, obedient little wife coming undone by a man that was not him. You suppress a moan as Tyrin slips his middle finger in you, fucking you in and out as his lips wrap around your swollen clit. Almost there, almost there....

Oh it was all too much yet not enough at the same time. It floods you, sending you over the edge as you desperately grasp onto the bed covers. And at the sound of the door opening you let out a series of gasps turned moans as you lock eyes with the cause of your downfall. The look on his face was satisfaction enough, but you wanted more. Eyes closing in bliss as your head falls onto the bed, a laugh so sinister rings through the room. You pull your skirt over to hide your exposed skin as you smile up at Tyrin. Drawing him close to place a long loving kiss on his lips, you nod your head out the door, whispering empty promises of later. Aemond watches the whole exchange, mouth clenched and fists balled. As the man walked past him and out the door Aemond had to physically stop himself from mauling him and setting him on fire.

There was no doubt about it, he was angry. Shaking in place much like you had in your seat weeks ago. He didn't know what these emotions were blossoming in his chest but he didn't like it. It burned in a way so violent he fears that a hole may form in his chest. He does nothing for a few moments, simply standing in place eyeing you like a predator to it's prey. You do the same, putting all your body weight on your elbow as you laid on the bed unmoving. If he expected a stream of desperate apologies to fall from your mouth then he was not going to get it. You looked at eachother with much venom and alcohol. The gratification you got coursed through you as the image he had witnessed stayed forever burned in his brain.

Good. You wanted him to remember that forever. Much like you'll remember his actions towards you for eternity. Suddenly you were angry. Angry at him, angry at his fucking Alys, angry at Ser Larys. Snarling in hate as your gaze hardens you force yourself to speak.

"Get out." The words were cold, and for a moment Aemond flinches as it echoed through the walls. He does what you command, harshly shutting the door behind him and you fall onto the bed once more.

What had you done?

You were getting even. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't have provoked you first. Truthfully, you didn't know what scared you more, the fact that you could have potentially ruined your marriage or how absolutely addicting it was to inflict pain onto him. One things for certain though, you weren't done.

Aemond didn't know what to feel. He was a mess of emotions, lashing out at anything and everything in his way. A part of him knew that this was only fair yet why did it hurt him so bad? He thought he didn't care about you, thought you were a mere pawn in this game but it appeared that all this time you were playing him. All of it is a mystery to him as he begins to think on your relationship more. What parts of you were actually real, which was really you and which was his wife? Were your affections for him true and had he hurt you so? All this time he thought you were playing a role, or maybe you were. Because the girl laying on that bed laughing like the stranger was not his wife.

No, she was a demon. A succubus getting off on his pain. All of it is so confusing, the bruises you left dragging him down into the depths. Yet why did it excite him a little... Watching you like that.... Aemond feels as though he couldn't breathe, the remaining fragments of his heart shriveled at the thought of falling victim to weakness. He would not allow this, he wouldn't allow a man like Tyrin Lannister to best him and steal you away. The sorrow he felt was akin to an old friend, the bittersweetness that plagued his soul reminded him of his youth. This was a feeling he promised himself he would never endure again. The feeling of being less than and not enough. He had failed you. He had failed you so bad that you had to go seeking for another. Now he knew that he was being a hypocrite on that but he was vulnerable.

Being vulnerable was not something Aemond Targaryen was used to.

〄

"You aren't to see him again." Aemond yelled, trailing after the girl as you entered your shared chambers. The space thankfully empty as you ignored his impending attitude. Your breath quickens as you find yourself caught in a rather unpleasant situation. It had been merely an hour since that gurly sight with Ser Tyrin Lannister, and Aemond finds himself losing all remaining composure he had left with you.

"Huh?" There was something rather vexing about your tone that proved to be daggers in Aemond's ears. The way you expressed such profound boredom and taciturn, as if this conversation was an inconvenience to you. You displayed an tired exposure that puzzled him to no end because the confrontation has yet to begin. Your slack demeanor and annoyed undertone was both riddling and infuriating to Aemond.

"Ser Tyrin Lannister, you aren't allowed to see him again!" Deciding to forgo any avoidance, Aemonds tone was cut clean. He told you how it was, and he did not care about preserving feelings when you were showing such childish behavior. You would either accept never seeing that man, or any man for that matter again, or Aemond would turn to more extreme measures.

"Well... who knew it was possible to evoke such emotions from you. And here I thought you were incapable." Aemond's eye widen in shock as you put on an uncharacteristic display of theatrics. You scoffed and silently berated him with your inflection. This was a side of you he's never seen before. It was a tiny probe that was meant to provoke him by angling into his worries in a brash and unnecessary way. Aemond didn't know whether or not you were intentionally trying to anger him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care if it was deliberate or not.

"...I beg your pardon?" His words wry and barren with any emotions, genuinely taken aback.

"Well then kneel and start begging." You turn to him sharply, backing him against the door as he looked down at you in shock, yet you don't back down.

"You can't tell me what to do. But if you wish to keep believing that you have some sort of power over me, I will try my best to be more discreet with my partners." You wave your hand at him, as if done with this conversation but he was far from finished.

"I will not have you acting like a whore y/n! You are my wife and mine alone!" Aemond did not mean to call you that but as the words slip from his lips he soon finds himself regretting it. Watching the way you hesitated for a moment, a flash of hurt gleaming on your face before turning angry. He knew men have called their wives much worse but not him. His mother had always made sure he knew how to treat women. If only she knew how that back fired...

A whore....

He thought that you were a whore......

Normally you wouldn't let such meaningless words effect you so but that was exactly it, it wasn't meaningless. Not when it came from the mouth of the person you once thought the world of. Aemond used to be everything to you, and to hear that coming from him was disheartening to no end. Yes you knew that he was just angry because you pushed him so, but that fact became irrelevant as you begin to feel claustrophobic from your emotions. You felt frail, burning with a thick blanket of insecurities and rage constricting you, like a greedy serpent, ready to prey and corrupt you whole. You felt like Alice, falling into a dark rabbit hole of anxiety and panic, despair beginning to pull you down. It was all too much, and you suddenly began to feel so small. Your once defiance now subdued and replaced with the image of a shaking girl maddened. You felt afraid... not of Aemond but of your emotions...

Compose yourself, you were not going allow such disrespect and you were not going to fall into your old ways again.

"Don't play the fool, Aemond. You started this. Quite honestly what did you think was going to happen?" You yelled firmly in his face, trying so hard to push your emotions away. But thoughts of Alys tainted your mind. He would never speak to her this way. He would never act this way around her. You let the bitterness hug and empower you. The same need to hurt him reignited.

"I am simply playing the game that you started." You were reticent but in a prolix and unnecessary way. You would not reveal that he had hurt you so. Aemond opens his mouth to say something but doesn't for a few moments.

"What prompted this change..." He sounded desperate, his words breaking as he desperately searched for an answer.

"I don't know! Maybe now I don't feel the need to hide behind a mask anymore." You say to him honestly. This need for revenge and affinity for spite and pettiness, it had always been there. Aemond just didn't look at you long enough to notice it.

"I'm tired Aemond. I'm tired of doing my best to please you only for it to not be good enough!"

It wasn't just about you or Aemond being possessive anymore, it was the fact that you had reached your end. Was it so wrong to want a partner that actually loved and cared for you? Was it so wrong to want to be loved? The more you thought the more empty and hollow you felt. You can feel your soul decaying all together as anxiety crept up on you. He didn't want you.... The little voice in your head spoke. He thinks Alys is better than you..... stop... Why do you try so bad? because I must... You don't deserve to be with him... yes I do... No you don't... The voices in your head taunted, feeling feverish and flushed, you took a step back from Aemond. Suddenly afraid to be too close to him. But it did no help to calm the mean words the whirlwind through your brain. It picked at you, in a way that the thought of Alys couldn't but funny enough it was the personification of her plaguing your mind.

He doesn't think you're good enough...

I don't think you're good enough...

He doesn't think you're good enough...

We don't think you're good enough...

It's not just her anymore, the voice that invades your head is your parents speaking to you..... Then it's the King and Queen screaming... And after that it's Aegon and Helaena laughing at you...

It's Aemond talking down to you, —it's everything, it's everyone, all at once, all-consuming, suffocating and demanding. And suddenly the ability to hear is ripped from you; it's nothing. You're forced into a pliable mass being sullied, your body isn't yours anymore. It's a vessel of flooding anxiety and negative thoughts.

"I want somebody that loves me...." You say, looking at the man with such betrayal.

Be strong....

"I want a happy life with a husband that can actually stand to be in my presence. I want children of my own to fill the hole you left." You spoke after a short minute, your voice small and fragile, pleading... Aemond watches you shake and cry from where you stand. He had done this to you...

"I have spent so long loving you but that love has never served me..." Your words were soft, a timbre of spite concealed with broken confidence. You hated this... hated how you got in your own head and ruined your own self esteem... Pain feeding off your scorched heart and the embers of your love for Aemond. It was agonizing... agonizing to watch him look at you cry like this. But perhaps he needed to see you this way.

He had hurt you so badly and the moment he finally got a taste of his own medicine he ordered you to stop. It was the consuming fear of not being enough for him that killed you so, the thought of not being able to live up to the expectations. And for Aemond to stand there and call you a whore when all you ever did was try to love him.

"Forgive me my dear wife... I did not know that you have been suffering so badly all this time. Had I known...." He softens for a moment, trying to get you to understand whilst failing to consider that you didn't need to, he did.

"But you did! You knew and you still went off in search for something I cannot give you. Had you have known would it have changed anything?" You scream in broken anger and despair.

"No..."

You never learn, hearing it in your own head was a lot different than hearing it out loud. It will never be the same, it will always be ten times worse. Aemond had just confirmed your words. Of course you knew that he thought this way but it hurt a lot more. Just like that night with Ser Larys. Your shoulders slump in defeat, frowning as tears began to prick at your eyes. Aemond takes notice of this, swiftly cupping your cheeks with his large hands and forcing you to look him.

"No, because either way you would have been discontent. I cannot give you the life that you wanted." Yet you can give it to her?

"Why not!?" You yelled with such anger and rage, ripping his hands off you. Your voice echoing through the room as you cussed the boy out. You were frustrated beyond measure and above all else heartbroken. Was it truly too much to ask for? You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having him treat you like this. Maybe weeks ago you would've swoon at the thought of his hands caressing you. But that was then and this was now.

"I am not made for love..." You fear that you can slay Vhagar with the great efforts it takes you now to remain calm. That was his excuse? A pitiful one at that. He had you standing there.... sad and broken... and all he can come up with was that love wasn't in his nature? Pain is the perfect word to describe this sensation oppressing your chest at those words. This doesn't stop you from peering up at him in question. You felt a calling to yell at him but you couldn't, no matter how badly you wanted to you. Staying baffled, every cry dying in the back of your throat. Your visage contorting in somber at Aemonds blasphemy.

"I don't believe you!" You yell at him, pushing at his chest when he tries to hug you. You break down in his arms, collapsing onto the floor as you weep into him. Aemond desperately held you close, oh what has he done to you.... He felt a myriad of emotions wash over him. Guilt, sadness, shame... He was ashamed he pushed you to this point. So he held the woman he barely knew well enough to call his wife.

"Tell me Aemond! Does your heart belong to another? Tell me now, please and I'll stop." You didn't know what you meant by stop. Stop trying? Stop loving? But if he said the words you would end it so. Aemond looks down at you, hugging onto the portrait that was once his wife.

"No! No one has captured my heart, those who came second to you, they mean nothing. They are nothing..." He says quickly, his words ringing truthful. He didn't know what prompted this new change but he panicked at the thought of losing you.

"Prove it to me." You whispered slowly. Uttering the words in a tone so cold and firm, your gaze locks onto Aemond's. Your wide eyes morphing into something else as a small smirk pulls at your lips. Distraught gone from your face as the water flow of tears halt.

"Bring me the head of Alys Rivers."

"How do you know..." He looks at you in shock for a moment, your expression ridden of distress and replaced with something sinister.... Watching his expression carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders and leaned into his ear.

"Do it and I will be yours again." It came out as a pur, a tempting whisper urging him, and Aemond found himself liking the way it sounded. That was Aemond's cord. He was as possessive as he was jealous. Much like you, he didn't like being second to anyone, but would that be enough. Turning your head to meet his gaze, it would be so easy to kiss you but he keeps a firm hold on your waist.

"If not then I will take it myself." Nodding your head briefly, you remove his arms from around you. Standing up, you walk over to your shared bed, wiping away the rogue tears before sitting down. Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion, you were much more composed now and hidden behind your eyes was a sense of coldness.

"It appears that I have much to learn about you my lovely wife. But If it will please you then as you wish." Aemond stands soon after you, nodding his head as he planned to make amends.

"You're willing to kill her just like that?" Turning your head to him slightly, you questioned where his loyalty lied.

"I told you she means nothing to me... Did you think otherwise?" His sly expression displayed a certain vainglory that caused you to turn away. So maybe you had thought otherwise but your insecurities had to come from somewhere.

"If you're lying to me Aemond I will have your other eye." Threatening may not be the answer but you liked the hesitancy it triggered from him.

"I suppose this is my fault.... you don't trust me." Nodding his head as he walked slow steps towards you, Aemond kneels down in front of the bed and takes your hands in his.

"You have given me every reason not to trust you." With a stiff lip, you turn from him.

"I know... But let me make it right." Guiding your chin with his fingers to make you look at him, you noticed a hint of regret and shame swimming in his eye.

"The road to forgiveness will not be easy." You tell him firm.

"I know... my love." You ignore the butterflies that awoke from that title and watch as he rose to grab his riding coat. And so it begins...

༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻

Autho's Note:

Let me know if you guys want more! There's more to this story but I chopped it up into two parts because I wasn't done and I wanted to have something out for you guys. I swear to god I drop fics unannounce then dissappear for months lmao.

- Armoni

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bonus-links · 11 days

Note

Commentary on the update? 🥺

YEAHH

i sketched this page forgetting that the SS Linebeck was gonna be visible at the dock and even went to the trouble of drawing the other side of Outset in the distance on one of the panels before i realized HAHA and then proceeded to grudgingly draw the side of the ship over and over

sorry about the lack of Ayrll lines, there just wasn't much opportunity with everything else I needed to get through this update. we'll see more of her I promise o7

i was convinced to keep the "he frow up" and "link's fuckass sword" gags in so i'm glad everyone's enjoying those HAHA

The waterfall BG in the panel of Tetra recognizing the sword is the same one as the stone Ganondorf from pt. 3. You might also notice that tiny Wake from Tetra's last memory of the sword has a bloody eye. Wonder how that happened

Everyone joking abt Linebeck rizzing Gran Gran last update I was like wait. just wait

Lots of ppl interpreted Slate introducing himself as Link as him not getting the social cue, which I think is a great way to interpret it lol. but also consider: he totally noticed and just decided not to lie anyway.

I tried to fill gran gran's house with pictographs Wake might have taken and little gifts Wake might have brought back for her from his adventures (within reason, all these backgrounds were a lot of work HAHA). There's Wake and Ayrll on Ice Ring Isle, and Gran Gran's even got her own korok pinwheel!

that's all!! this was a fun update, I love reading everyone's comments :-)

#directors commentary #bonus content #ask

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libbyfandom · 4 months

Text

“In This Life, and the Next. I Swear.”

Happy Holidays, have a bittersweet reincarnation fic.

Summary: Mizu may not believe in reincarnation, but you do. You'll believe in it enough for both of you. You may not be strong, but your soul is. You'll carry her to a better lifetime.

Content Warnings: Did your really think no one would die in a reincarnation fic? Hmmm?

“Next lifetime, you have to court me,” you murmur into Mizu’s neck as her fingers trace along the bare skin of your back where you lie atop her. “None of this... stoic loner act where I have to wear you down into letting me love you. Yeah?”

Mizu snorts, her other hand resting over her eyes. “Not on your life.”

Making an offended noise, you bite her collarbone in retaliation, hearing her laughter fill the inn room.

“When we come back, I want our lives to be simple,” you say as Mizu helps you down from the horse you borrowed on your escape from the last town.

Resisting the urge to let a sigh slip at this fantasy coming back up again, she mutters, “Yeah? You’d prefer to have a boring life, after you basically attached yourself to me and Ringo to escape your home?”

“Well yeah, I’m getting all of my adventuring done in this life cycle.”

“And you don’t want that again?” Mizu starts to lead the horse toward the outer skirts of the city, hoping to find a stable to leave it without being spotted.

You walk alongside her, studying her passive expression. “I do." A beat. "But I want you to have peace more.”

Her eyes dart to you, genuinely caught off guard. The openness, the honesty in your face has a bubble of overwhelming emotion welling up in her chest.

Her head turns back to the road, retreating into her silence to avoid speaking and risking her voice betraying her.

But after a few minutes of her staring off into the distance, she quietly says with a softened brow, “That’s kind.”

‘Do you regret choosing this life, knowing how quickly it will all end? Or did you walk into it blindly, optimistic for some happier resolution?’

Mizu jerks you up into her arms, apologizing frantically over and over as you scream in pain when she applies pressure to the stab wound deep in your stomach. She tenses her grip as your body tries to seize and jerk away from the splitting, hot pain radiating through your nerves from pressure on the gash. You’re too scared to look down and see your own insides peeling away from each other.

Taigen and Ringo are fending off the last few bounty hunters, the clashing of swords and knives fading into the background as you dig your bloodied fingers into her haori. “Come find-find me again,” you say with frantic eyes, swallowing back another mouthful of metallic blood forcing its way up your burning throat.

“What?!” Mizu’s attention is torn between keeping an eye on her back and wrapping a torque around your middle from the fabric she torn off your kosode.

You grab her face, leaving a bloody streak on her cheek as you force her to look at you. Her widened blue eyes are forced to look into yours with no barrier, her glasses lost somewhere in the snow from the fight. You can feel how fast your body is losing warmth. The edges of your vision are blurring, and the draw to fall asleep is growing more powerful than the burning gap in your stomach. Mizu may not know how to die, but you-

‘I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.’

You need her to hear you before everything stops. So you grip her cheek and stare into her panic-stricken eyes. You’re scared too, but you’re more scared of coming back to this world and not seeing her again than you are of not coming back at all.

“Come find me again.”

Mizu hates the concept of promises, and the bigger and more impossible they sound the more she avoids them. But you nose is turning pink from the cold, or from your crying. Tears are trailing down the sides of your temples, cutting through any blood stains across your face.

And she hates promises.

Tears well in her own eyes as she clenches her teeth against a violent sob.

But she hates denying you proof that she loves you more. If you pass without it… if you die with the last words in your ears being 'I can't'…

Every whisper and cry of “Onryō” she’s ever heard echo louder and louder in her head until they're all scream chanting in unison. She blinks, and for a heart-freezing moment your terrified eyes turn her shade of blue.

“Onryō!”

“ONRYŌ!”

"𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬o҉𝔫r҉𝔶o҉𝔬n҉𝔯y҉𝔬-"

Her hand lifts away from the rapidly growing stain of blood coming through the makeshift torque across your abdomen and settles on your cheek.

She forces the corners of her mouth up into a reassuring smile as her own body trembles.

“Okay,” her voice wavers as she blinks out tears. “I’ll come find you.” Her voice is like a child making their first vow. “I’ll, I’ll come find you again.”

You smile weakly, and despite her own forced one, her eyes fill with terror for just a moment at the blood staining your teeth.

You reach up and tug her hair out of its high bun, watching it tumble around her shoulders.

You need your soul to memorize what she looks like when she’s not hiding. For next time.

Your own smile wavers. “You have to. I won’t… I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

The fragile look on her face crumples into despair. Mizu leans her temple against yours as the sobs overtake her, her long hair draping over both of your faces and blocking out the world. “I will. I will I will I will I will I-“

Her fractured voice fades away, and your vision swims.

But your soul is at peace.

‘It's your turn, Mizu.’

‘I ended up burying you with as many red spider lilies I could scavenge. They’ll help guide you to the next life. I made Ri( ) swear to bury me next to you with just as many. If he’s around to collect my corpse when I go. If anyone is. ( )I used to not care if anyone did, as long as I finished my mission. But now I’m terrified something happens and I can’t keep my promise.

I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m sorry I made a promise that’s out of my hands.

( )

I’m sorry.’

You stare down at the spread of papers and antique diaries written in kanji. You’re trying to organize them by chronological order based on context from the letters and diaries, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult as you go. Especially with words smudged and faded by centuries of time. You rub your eye behind your glasses.

‘She really is making this hard for me.’ You sigh through your nose as you bite down on the end of your pen.

“Excuse me?”

“Hm?” You glance to your side, surprised to be pulled from your work and come face to face with probably the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” she smiles, lowering her head to pull her tinted glasses off. “I just saw you over here and uh-“ her expression goes a little strained as she looks for the right words. “I just, uh-”

You glance between her and the spread of antique writing from the archives. “Are you the person that checked these out last? Do you need them back?”

“No. I just-" She makes a face. Whatever she planned to say when she came over was quickly unraveling. Her eyes dart away, and land on the diaries. Her eyebrows furrow slowly, something flickering in her blue eyes.

Very pretty eyes…

She jerks her chin down at the spread of papers. “What is that?”

A little thrown off at the changes in conversation, you pick up one of the diaries. “Um, this is work for my master thesis. I’m studying unknown woman and queer history of Edo Japan.” Your fingers drum over the cover. “Came across this treasure when going through the archives. It’s a bunch of writing from a rogue swordsman to his lover after her death. But in my review of it, I’m positive I can prove that he was actually a woman,” you grin a little with pride, shifting your weight side to side with delight at getting to discuss your research.

“Lesbian samurai,” she laughs lowly, eyes warm.

“Something like that,” the corners of your lips lift up.

“Well that’s really fascinating,” her fingers trail across the edge of the table as she steps closer. “I’d love to hear more about it. Maybe… over dinner?” The corner of her mouth grimaces for a moment, her eye twitching once with frustratation at herself with that cheesy delivery.

Your lips part, eyes widening with a breathless little “Oh.”

The woman gains confidence from how your eyes light up behind your glasses as you flush. Her hand squeezes her shoulder, a nervous tic. “I’m sorry. I saw your over here and had to give it a shot.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” you’re quick to reassure her. You look up at her with bright eyes as you dig through your backpack for notebook paper.

“I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t.”

A tilt of her lips, her hand outstretched. “Mizu.”

You introduce yourself.

You hold out the pen and paper to get her number, and she asks as she leans over to scribble it out on the table, “Anything good in those letters?”

“Most of it’s pretty grief heavy,” you smile sadly. “But in a poetic and romantic way? Like, even though her love was gone, probably pretty young, she kept her memory alive as she fought through life.”

Mizu glances up at you, and something tightens in your throat and sinks into your stomach. You don’t know why you admit quietly, “The first time I read them I started crying in the archive room.”

A beat, where you feel dread creep up your neck at suddenly tanking the mood.

Her face grows impassive, deadly quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You quickly blink back tears that come on alarmingly fast. “What?”

Mizu blinks too, straightening up. “Just, sorry that it made you sad. I guess.” She smiles again, albeit a little smaller this time, and hands over the paper. “I guess I’ll see you? Hopefully soon?”

A soft laugh huffs out your nose as that melancholic moment passes. “Yeah,” your hand brushes against the inside of her palm as you take the paper. “Really soon.”

She leaves you with a satisfied grin, her nose scrunching up as she turns and walks off.

You watch her go, feeling something tighten in your stomach again at how relaxed she looks.

You look down at her number, and see that she slyly signed it with the kanji for “Promise”.

As you begin to organize the letters to skim through them again, your hesitate on the one you had just been reviewing. You hold it and the notebook paper up side by side.

The letter unfolds and a single, dried, book pressed red spider lily flutters to your feet.

Mizu perfectly copied the handwriting of the swordswoman’s kanji.

“Huh.”

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu #modern mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blueeyesamurai

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mayhemspreadingguy · 1 year

Photo

I finally finished it! here is my favorite pining goth birb and his sunshine :). Ain't gonna lie designing the stained glass proved to be harder than expected xD (so yeah I did give up on dividing Hob into smaller pieces of glass so it would look more like a stained glass window; I didn't have the patience to figure out how to make it look good). But I think that the sunflower motif is kinda neat - for the name itself as well as for the symbolism of sunflowers (loyalty, adoration, etc).I also struggled with keeping the lineart consistent - I tend to build up architecture (and backgrounds in general) with a painterly approach which doesn't go well with the stylized outlined characters. However, I kinda like, how it turned out in the end anyway :). And I think it visually matches well with my previous "big Morpheus holds Hob" drawing - yes, I totally love the "stardust" brush and I'm guilty of using it every time an opportunity arises, hehe.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #robert gadling #sandman #mayhem art

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samkerrworshipper · 5 months

Text

massage therapy | mapi leon x reader

mapi gets injured… reader tries to resolve some of the tension in her body

warnings: injury, hurt/comfort, smut, cunnilingus, fingering

“Maps, baby, I swear to dios just let me massage your knee, I have to, hermosa.”

María just glares at you from her position sitting on the couch.

She’s been next to unbearable ever since her meniscus injury, rightfully so, you would be two if you had no choice but to stop playing the sport that you loved for months.

But the whining, the wayward glares, the constant anger and tension is beginning to get to you, beyond it making you annoyed at your lover, you were worried about her more than anything.

Mapí had her fair share of mental health problems in the past, the two of you had gotten through them together, but whenever something like an injury arose it always seemed to signify the start of a rougher patch in her mental health.

So that had been your main focus, making sure that María’s mental health stayed intact, you thought you’d done a fairly good job, mentally she was doing well, but attitude wise she was acting like a little bitch.

Always snappy and critical, always annoyed about her lack of mobility, always refusing your help.

Alexia had attempted multiple times to reign her in on your behalf, the Catalan woman had practically moved in as soon as the news of the injury had come in, insistent on being a support system for her best friend, but it worked to no prevail, Mapí was angry with the world, with her knee, with everything that moved or breathed.

“Estoy bien.” I’m fine

Her words are forced out, gruff and croaky from her spot on the couch.

You’re pretty sure there is a half permanent Mapí shaped dent in the pillows that your girlfriend had been living in the last week or so, ever since her surgery.

“María, when are you going to stop being so stubborn and just accept my help?”

For a person who had some fairly serious surgery just over a week ago, Mapi was a menace, trying to do everything on her own, which was fairly hard when you were hopped up on pain meds and hardly mobile.

“Estoy bien, ni siquiera estoy adolorida.” I’m fine, I’m not even sore.

It’s a complete lie, Mapí’s been moaning and groaning for the last half hour as she tried to find a comfortable position amongst the pillows and blankets.

She’s practically crafted a nest on the couch, a big pile of blankets absorbing her completely.

“María, por favor.” Maria, please

Your use of Spanish seems to draw her attention, it’s not your first, or second language, you don’t speak it very often.

Both you and María understand each other's languages, just find it harder to speak them, so it just works that you normally speak in English and she normally speaks in Spanish, it saves either of you from having to awkwardly translate all of your words every time you want to talk with your girlfriend.

“Pequeña, estoy bien.” little one, I’m fine

Estoy bien seems to be at the forefront of Mapí’s vocabulary recently, it’s always I’m fine, even when she’s lying through gritted teeth and teary eyes.

You stand up from your spot sitting at the kitchen table, tiptoeing towards Mapí slowly, a deep frown set on your face.

Mapí’s watching some Spanish soap opera, something you're unfamiliar with, which makes it seem like it's more background noise for her than anything of interest.

You walk around the couch, until you’re standing in front of her, blocking her view of the tv so she’s forced to look at you.

“You can’t tell me your knee isn’t killing, the physio said it needed to be stimulated daily, let me help you, love.”

Mapí bites down on her lip, there is so much frustration playing across her face, so much anguish.

“Estoy bien.” i’m fine

It’s like being repetitively punched in the face, hearing the same two words fall from her lips, it’s incredibly aggravating, all consuming.

“María, you aren’t fine, hate me all you want, push me away, but give me the respect of not lying blatantly to my face over and over again.”

Mapi’s whole body tenses, her face scrunching up at your brutally honest words.

“Princesa, no es así.” princess, it’s not like that

You don’t give up, not when you know that this might just be your opportunity to get something back, anything at all.

“Maps, just a massage, we’ll go at your pace, your muscles need to be strengthened and that starts with loosening them up, por favor.”

María’s face is stubborn, unmoving.

She’s fairly good about recovery, doesn’t need any reminders to do her exercises or move her knee as often as it needs to, the massaging is the only thing she can’t do by herself, and because its Mapí that you’re talking about, she’d never ask you to help her with it, or accept a offer from you to help her.

You take her recovery seriously though, and you’ll be damned if she misses out on a crucial part of her recovery just because she is too bullheaded to ask for some goddamn help.

“No necesito ayuda.” I don’t need help

You scoff, it’s the biggest lie ever, Mapí can’t walk without crutches, can’t stand for much longer than a minute, she needs help with almost everything.

“Maps, I love you so much, no matter what, but this whole independence thing is just getting annoying. I’ll make you prawn paella for dinner if you let me give you a massage, how’s that for a deal?”

It’s Mapí’s weakness, you know it, it’s one of her mothers oldest recipes that she taught you when she was still alive, whenever Mapí’s having a particularly hard day it’s always your go to, it’s her comfort food.

“Promesa?” promise?

You nod your head, smiling to yourself as you realise that you’ve managed to somehow convince Mapí.

“I promise, I’m going to go and get the massage oil, can you try and take off your sweatpants for me, please, love?”

Mapí nods at you, a little smile teasing at the corners of her lips as she watches you walk off into the direction of the cupboard where the both of you keep all of your recovery related items.

You were quick to find the oil and creams that you required, returning back to Mapí to find her sitting on the couch, her sweatpants pushed to the side leaving her in just her boxer shorts.

Her knee was the only part of her legs that weren’t visible to you, hidden by a brace and plethora of bandages and gauze.

You perched yourself down on the pillows beside her knee, ditching the items in your hands and gently reaching for Mapí’s brace.

She flinched away from the contact, her knee jerking at the feeling.

“Maps, baby, just relax for me, yeah?”

She nodded, her teeth gritted, her eyes watching your every move around her knee, trying to gulp down her worries and discomfort that originated from places beyond her knee.

Once she’d relaxed a little bit more, you reached for her brace again, she still flinched, but it wasn’t as major, and you decided to continue, reaching for the velcro, exaggerating your movements so Mapí had a clear view of everything you were doing.

Once you’d managed to undo the velcro straps you gently un tightened it and then slid it down her leg, leaving gauze and bandages as the only thing covering it.

“Deep breaths Maps, if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable just tell me, sí?”

Mapi nodded at you, she looked like a woman who had just run a marathon, her face all scrunched up and red.

“Sí, gentil, por favor.” Yes, gentle, please

You smiled at her, nodding, like you’d ever be anything else.

“Sí, I’ll be gentle, how about I tell you what I’m going to do before I do it, just so you have some warning, would that make you feel a bit better, love?”

Mapi nods like your words are her saving grace.

“Okay, I’m just going to unwrap the bandages now, just let me know if anything hurts.”

Mapí nods her head, so you continue on, finding the tucked in part of the bandages and beginning to unwrap them, your touch and movements feather soft.

You flex her knee a little bit and notice how her face crunches up a little bit, you hate that she’s in pain, that something that should be so simple and basic for her has become a struggle.

She doesn’t tell you to stop though, so you continue, slowly unravelling the gauze and bandages until you are met with the sight of her bruised and swollen knee.

The stitches had been removed two days ago, so the scar is risen and red, but luckily, not infected.

You notice how Mapí’s eyes suddenly drift from her knee, you know she’s been struggling to come to terms with her injury, that she’s been denying it as much as one could.

“Maps, I’m going to apply some oil, I’m just going to start with your lower leg, nothing near your incision, just tell me if anything is uncomfortable, okay?”

Mapí nods, so you reach for the oil bottle and a towel, gently lifting her knee to slide the towel under her near and then dripping some of the oil onto your hands and then gently pressing them to Mapi’s shin, snaking your hands behind to her calf and working your fingers into her muscles.

The only thing you know is that she’s extremely tight, her calf and achilles practically pushing against you as you lightly apply pressure to the skin.

It takes a generous amount of time working up her calf, working out all the kinks and knots, María is lenient enough though, she looks like she’s in a different place, normally you’d probe her, check if she was okay, but you know that you’re winning right now by having her allow your to do this, so you count your wins and not your losses.

“Maps, baby, I’m working up to your knee and incision now, I know it's going to be uncomfy but the muscles need to be jostled, tell me if anything hurts, okay.”

María’s eyes are glossed over, but she nods absentmindedly.

So, you daintily and carefully begin the trek up to Maria’s knee, your fingers dancing around her non incision side, gently giving the tissue and muscle a rub before moving your fingers to the other side.

You start by just hovering your fingers over her scar, something that seems to capture her attention, and has her throat bobbing as she looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Maps, honey, talk to me.”

It’s clear there are words waiting on the tip of her tongue, and if you can get her to voice them that you will.

“Por favor.” please

It breaks your heart how vulnerable Mapí sounds, it truly does.

“Please, what, love? I’m going to need more than that.”

Mapí pushes her tongue out against her front lip, a fairly clear tell that something is turning the cogs in her head.

“Por favor, no me hagas daño.” Please, don’t hurt me

Your heart clenches at her words, your fingers removing themselves from the scar and gently resting down on her thigh, your palm flat and open against Mapí’s skin.

“María, I’m not going to hurt you, and definitely not on purpose, I’m trying to help you. I know it might not seem that way, but if you relax for me it’s definitely going to feel better.”

Mapí scoffs, sarcasm seemingly ready on the top of her tongue.

“Maps, you need to relax honey.”

Mapí’s face scrunches up, her nose and eyebrows furrowing together.

“No puedo.” I can’t

You don’t doubt Mapí, which makes it so much harder for you to reply to her, because she genuinely looks like she’s struggling, and somehow frustrated.

“Maps, honey, why so tense?”

There’s an inkling of an idea beginning to form in your head, but you don’t want to read this wrong, and a part of you wants to hear what Mapí has to say.

“Tus manos están en mi muslo.” Your hands on my thigh

You snort a little bit, but then reign yourself in when you see the unfamiliar hopelessness on María’s face.

“Yes it is, what’s your point?”

You're toying with her a little bit, for your own fun and genuine curiosity.

“No puedes poner tu mano ahí.” You can’t put your hand there.

If Mapi wasn’t whining at you, you would remove your hand, but there’s neediness hiding behind her tone, that leaves your hand exactly where it is.

“Why not?”

You cock your head at her, pushing down into her thigh a bit and choking on air when an almost breathy moan leaves her mouth.

“No cuando no puedes terminar lo que estás empezando.” Not when you can’t finish what you are starting.

You smirked up at her from your spot hovering between her sore knee resting on the couch and her good leg which is resting off the couch.

“Why can’t I finish it?”

This is uncharted waters with injured María, ever since her knee injury all bedroom activities had been abruptly stopped, you were terrified of hurting your lover and Mapí was always tired or grumpy so it hadn’t really been an issues.

It was clear though, that the both of you were apparently desperate, and as fearful you were of hurting Mapi, you also knew she had given a lot of herself to be this vulnerable with you, so she probably deserved some kind of reward.

“Princesa.”

Mapi’s whining again and all you can do is smile up at her.

“Usted no quieres?” You do not want?

Mapi shook her head, her deep brown eyes sparkling down at you.

“Por favor.” please

You knew that was permission enough, but you were enjoying seeing her slightly vulnerable.

“Please, what?”

María’s almost glaring, a little twinkle in the corner of her eye.

“Por favor, ayúdame.” Please, help me

You would have probed further, if her eyes hadn't fallen down to the centre of her boxers, her hand resting on her hip gently tugging at the waistband of her boyshorts.

“You want this?”

Mapí nodded frantically, making you giddy on the inside.

“Pull your boxers down for me baby, I think it’s time I massage more than your leg.”

Mapi moaned again, her hands falling directly to the waistband and tugging it off with as much force a crippled individual could.

“So eager baby girl, how long have you been needing me?”

Mapí doesn’t reply to you, just continues to tug her black boxer shorts down her ass and carefully over her knee and ankle before tossing them somewhere.

When you look up, you're rewarded with the view of María’s dripping sex, her clit poking out of it’s good and her hole clenching around nothing, her hips canting up to you desperately.

“Look at that, you're all wet for me and I haven’t even touched you where it matters.”

The noises that leave Mapí’s mouth are completely sinful, her head leaning back against the couch, little pleas leaving her mouth.

You trail your fingers up from her thigh, gently grazing against the inside of her thigh until they finally make it to her lips.

You do the same with her lips, trailing wet and sloppy kisses up the inside of her knee and thigh, until your lips come into contact with her dripping and throbbing clit.

You don’t waste any time, trailing a single finger down to Mapí’s hole and swiping up some of the wetness before gently beginning to push it into her eager hole.

Mapí’s pussy practically sucked your finger in, you fell into a fairly easy pace, your mouth suckling gently on her clit whilst your singular finger worked in and out of Maria.

When there was absolutely zero resistance or stretch you began to ease a second finger in, slowly increasing your pace and your pressure on her nub.

Normally, in situations like these, when you and Mapí hadn’t been with each other intimately for so long you’d take your time, show her just how much you loved and appreciated her, but this wasn’t the moment for that.

Mapí needed love, she needed to be worshipped, but in this moment you were acting as nothing more than a relaxant for her, a tension reliever, which you were completely fine with, if it made her feel better than you would do anything for her.

You found her sweet spot, the little pad inside of her and began to target it directly, simultaneously sucking on her clit and caressing her g-spot.

It was a combination that never failed to work during a quickie, sending her directly over the edge in a matter of minutes.

This time was no different, you could feel Mapí tightening around you, her hands finding home in your roots and tugging you up eagerly into her.

Her moans all of a sudden stopped and her hands relaxed, not a second after that she tightened around your fingers and her thighs spasmed on both sides of your head.

You gently worked her through her aftershocks, only removing your fingers when all of the post orgasm shakes had left her body you moved you reached your hand up to her mouth, allowing her to suck her own taste off of your dexterous fingers whilst you lapped up any of her leftover juices and cum that was dripping out of her.

Once Mapí had sucked every last drop off your fingers and you’d salvaged every last bit of her pussy juices you lifted your head out of the apex between her legs, to be rewarded with the sight of a far less tense looking María León.

“Feeling a little bit more relaxed now, bebé?”

Mapu just gave you a little post orgasm grin, her eyes glassy in a completely different way as how she had been a few minutes ago.

“Si, muy relajada.” Yes, very relaxed.

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