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insufferablelust · 2 months

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Aemond claiming you as his 🔥 SMUT

RAVISH [BYKA ZALDRĪZES] Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Bind by her betrothal to the rider of Vhagar, the daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen meets Aemond Targaryen to find herself getting more than she ever expected.

Words counted: 6.9k (My sincerest apologies)

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Chocking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic).

Hello! this is my first time posting my work for any HOTD characters, thank you to the anon who requested, and special thank you & dedication to Gabrielle my friend who helped me Beta this work❤️ My request is always open for HOTD characters. English is not my native language so bear with me. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

Rules to Request

You can feel the tightness of your evening attire wrapped around the slopes of your curves, with the long thick fabric that overlaps the bodice of your dress downwards. You stayed as still as you could when your ladies dressed you with much attentive eyes. Hands everywhere from the collar to the soles of your feet.

One of your ladies braid your silky silver hair loose but neatly, perfecting your looks for such occasions. One being the arrival of your uncle, the rider of the biggest dragon in all the realms, Aemond. You can feel the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage, albeit constricted by the tight layers of your attire, it does not deter your nervousness.

Not only is his arrival would have significance on the chess play of the throne of the dragons, but it would bear you consequences that you, in fact, are unable to escape this fate. The fate you have little to say against. The near last wish of the king to betroth you to unite the two sides of the Targaryen blood. Marriage of dragon and dragon, hoping to conceal the gaping wound left by Viserys decisions.

Neither your mother nor your father can truly save you now as you have made your decision to choose your destiny to try and serve the realm the only way you know how. The rising tension and possible bloodshed of cousins and nieces are no longer needed, you had hoped, if you agree to this arrangement. You have no other choice than to take his hand in marriage, even if it means that you have to sacrifice your own freedom and the ambiguous name of the true heir.

You have yet to set your feelings for the rider of Vhagar, he is not only an enigma to you but, more so, a mystery that you are both eager yet scared to fully unveil. There is a part of you know that there is a darkness that surrounds his being like no other, as your brothers have always told you. However, if you are to take his hand in marriage, you would have to force yourself to see the light in him, as you wished for the Seven to guide you in your unprecedented path.

“Princess, pardon me but Her Grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence at the gate, for Prince Aemond’s arrival.”

At once your shoulder straightened as you breathe out a heavy sigh, pulled out of your heavy thoughts by one of the servants. You smiled, and replied with a gentle “Of course, Lyana. I am to be done and head there right away.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you gathered your thoughts, and silently prayed to not only the Seven but to all old Gods of Valyria to gain you strength and will to overcome this behemoth of a challenge that is to be bestowed upon you in a matter of minutes. Opening your eyes again, you begin to shuffle your way out of the mighty wooden door, and off to your journey just outside of the Red Keep, on the gates overlooking Rhaenys Hill.

You’re accompanied by the two of your ladies as well as your trusted guard as you make your way down the castle. You can see in the distance the few people including the Queen, that has already stood patiently waiting for Prince Aemond’s arrival. You blushed as the foot of your dress sweep gracefully onto the stones below, your heart raced with anticipation of meeting your soon-to-be husband.

“Your Grace.”

You curtsied as you approached Queen Alicent, a sign of greeting and respect you have for the mother of the alleged battling heir to the throne. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smiled as she gently touches your arm. Her smile is soft, casted as genuine, however, you can clearly see the tightness in them.

Alicent has always spared you more content than to others directly of your mother’s blood, your obedience to the crown, realm, and dedication to the Seven, helped her to overcome the dreaded raging crossfire between the two apparent heirs. Your demur soft upbringing, contented her enough to welcome you in a hug, albeit fabricated with quarrel.

“Princess, it is a delight for all of us to be blessed by your presence, in honor of the Prince, of course.” She replied, your lips set into a thin smile, as you bowed your head to Princess Helaena. Unlike to her brothers or your step aunt’s entourages, you have a knit bond with Helaena, having to endure the chaos of the brooding conflict in the throne, you both shared the same wish to cultivate what was once a peaceful reign and put an end to the family’s misery. You watched attentively as she rubbed her swollen belly, knowing full well the usurper successor of your mother’s rightful throne cradled in the form of the babe inside her body. Your eyes fleetingly meet hers as you continued to smile.

“As it was a delight for me to procure your request of my presence, Your Grace. I am of honored to be here for the Prince’s arrival.”

Alicent patted your arm one more time before you both overlook the land of King’s Landing, with the view of the Narrow Sea dances in your eyes. You were always amazed by the beauty of the realm, the blue greyish skies are your scenery, especially when you have the opportunity to ride on your dragon’s back. Oh how you wished you could just fly away to Dragonstone right about now and see your family again. Alas that too is wishful thinking.

You were suddenly halted of your longing when the sound of the bellowing of mighty Vhagar came to light, your eyes drifted to the source of such powerful force, as the silhouette of one of the greatest beast come into view. You admired her majestic wings from afar, eyes squinted at her fierceness, biting through the wind and seamlessly breaking through the clouds. As the dragon got closer to the Hill of Rhaenys, just outside the Dragonpit, you could also make out the rider of said beast.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Even from miles away from the ground, one would not miss the way he fiercely ride the biggest dragon alive known in all seven realms, a dragon he conquered to be his own, the dragon that came to him not when he was born yet when he was in his biggest pit of despair. Vhagar’s bond with her rider is as strong as ever, just like when she roamed the skies with Queen Visenya Targaryen once during Aegon the Conquerer’s reign.

You could make out the shadow of his being as he landed on Rhaenys Hill ever so smoothly, dismounting from the beast before patting her and giving her to the dragon keepers. You hissed in pain as you finally realized that you have been clenching your hand too tightly in front of you.

“Seven heavens dear, are you alright?”

You can hear the soft gasps, and murmurs around you, noticing how you clutched your fingertips together. You have not noticed the entire time that you had been so nervous, it numbed the pain of your even dull fingernails on the palm of your dainty hands.

“Gods.” You exclaimed feeling your palm stings, Queen Alicent noticed the whole thing, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, so did Princess Helaena. “Princess, may I accompany back to the keep? so we can clean your hands” Said Haelena softly, in which you find yourself grateful for.

A nod and curtsy came from you as you lower your head in shame, “I apologize Your Grace, My Princess, for I have unable to assuage my pain. May I please be excused to clean up?” Your voice is in the teetering edge of whimper, eyes too humiliated to stare into Alicent or Helaena’s eyes. If you could summon your dragon here and then, you would and fly away with her so you don’t ever have to come back to Kings Landing but the luck of the Seven was never truly behind you since the start.

“Very well, Princess. Please see to it that the maester is make aware of her condition, and let her heal properly.” Alicent replied sternly, her voice laced with bitter shame covered with fantom worries, and she encouraged Helaena to accompany you, stressing that it would not be much fuss that neither of you would be there to greet the one eyed Prince.

You curtsied once more, before turning away from the looks of all the ladies and lords that have awaited for the Prince’s arrival. You tried to drawn out the murmurs in the background as your hem of your dress shuffled across the cobblestone, making your way back inside the keep.

Haelena was patient as she accompanied you to the Maester’s healing chamber, making small comments so that they are well aware of your little incident. The blush on your cheeks has yet to subside nor does the pounding in your chest. The bodice strangling you from the outside, as your own fear strangled you from within.

“Niece, however are you feeling? has the pain subsided?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft ringing of Helaena’s voice, your mind eased a little hearing her, she is a soothing presence in the midst of your confusion. You may live in King’s Landing, however your soul have always been with your family, home is wherever they were, and that was Dragonstone. How you so badly wanted to be there.

“No need to be worrisome, muñus. By the will of the gods, I shall be fine. It was just my foolish mistake. I should have been more careful.” Aunt.

The last words that left your mouth were that of a whimper, small plea you made to yourself. A plea that you knew would save yourself and possibly the realm had you not make the same reckless mistake over and over again. Helaena whom has been pestering over the healers, sit down besides you. She might be your aunt by bloodline, but she is also closer to your age, knows the burden you carry with the looming threat of the crack in the lair of the dragons.

“Dare I ask what is occupying your mind, dear?”

There is a tinge of pleasant playfulness in her voice that didn’t fail to make you tilt your head and chuckled. Sighing, “None of the matter, My Princess, it is merely a big day for us all.” You looked straight into her eyes as you replied, knowing full well she would understand what does big day entailed.

“Jorrāeliarzys, a fierce dragon such as yourself need not be worry of any apprehension.”

She clicked her tongue at you like a mother scolding their child, you feel comforted by the warmth she displayed to you knowing full well all of this heap was due to her own brother’s arrival upon the keep. Aegon himself has not been able to sleep peacefully since he catches the news of his brother’s wind in Kings Landing.

“Thank you, Helaena. I shall pray that the Prince arrives at the gates safely—“

Your moment was cut short however when you both heard the huge door opening, revealing the two guards that stood in front. Your breath hitched slightly, when you took upon notice the presence whom have entered the healing chambers.

“Brother, welcome.” You quickly took back your hand as soon as the maester was done wrapping it up in a soft silk cloth, concealing your earlier omission from him. Your eyes had not dared to look into his, instead focusing them on the ground beneath your feet as the brother and sister embraced each other in front of you.

Had you not looked away, you would have seen that Aemond’s eyes have certainly never wavered from your presence, his attention was on you as soon as he arrived to the gates. Blood boiling with fury as he had heard what had happened to you. It was supposed to be a happy day, at the very least for him, as it is the day he was going to set eyes again on you. His future wife. The queen to his soon to be realm, the one whom he will fight for.

His eyes has yet to set ashore from your slightly trembling body, it only darted towards your enclasped hands in front of you. “Do you wish to retire to your chambers? you have had a long day on Vhagar’s back.” You can hear Haelena’s voice ring, you wanted so much to greet him as you are accustomed to, however you found your lips to be very hesitant. No sound came out.

“I shall retire later, sister. I wish to see the princess first as I have been made aware of her conditions.”

The smooth sound of his thick voice caresses you softly, yet it leaves a rough grip on its awakening, just like dragon scales. You tilted your head slightly, finally looking at him as you have been sought after.

“My Prince.” Your voice finally escaped your lips, breathing a shaky breath as your eyes locked with his. “Welcome back, the keep has not been the same without your presence.” You smiled gently, lips pressed into a thin line— there is so much resistance coming from you and he knows it.

Aemond then stepped forward, standing in front of you. You felt his dominating figure as he towered over yours, making you swallow the bile in your throat. Your breath, however, hitched in your throat as he tenderly brings your hands upwards, bending over a little to place a lingering kiss atop of the cloth covered skin. “How severely does it hurt, My Princess?”

Shivers come washing down on you when you felt his lips ever so gently grazes your skin, even through the cloth you can feel his warm breath, his attentive touch and words releases a bit of pressure off your shoulders. But you must not let your guard down as you are still standing in front of a man that has caused way too many mishaps for your house. The threatening presence to the house destruction, yet, all of that just gravitated yourself closer to him.

“It barely hurts… All is well, My Prince—“ You replied eyes darting between his patchless eye, and to Helaena behind him whom watching this whole encounter with a smile, “I apologize to have caused you much trouble upon your arrival day, for I swear to the Seven, I did not mean it.”

You can hear Aemond clicks his tongue in front of you, clearly unamused to you apologizing for something that causes you terrible pain. After all you are to be his wife, he would always protect you even if it meant from your own self. “By all the realms, you have no need to apologize-“ He tilted his head in what you can only take as a menacing smug gesture with a grin.

“I’ll take your hand in marriage in less than a moon time, and soon your hand would cradle my babe, I am merely seeking to even give you a new hand, if My Princess ever so wishes for one. Hm, ñuhys jorrāeliarzy?” My beloved.

That pulled a hefty gasp out of you, your hands that were still in his grasp turned so cold. Although it is not a new matter that the King and Queen has betrothed you both, it still feels like you’re reverted to how you are a shy maiden, not nearly as experienced as he was in anything. You have your mother’s wit as well as fierceness, your father’s attitude yet you always find yourself in another dichotomy altogether where you’re more demure than those of your siblings characters, Jacaerys is a wise leader, so as your other brothers, you— you are something else. Never wish for any power yet contented to defending your own.

“I suppose so, My Prince. However you needn’t to worry. I shall be fine by the time moonlight arrives.” You replied with trying hard to keep up with his intense eye contact. It was difficult for you to not drown in his lilac eyes, his silver hair, perfectly sculpted jaw, and even more domineering stance. You have wished sometimes that the Gods would just damn you in the Grand Sept for your lewd thoughts.

“Very well, little dragon. I shall see you during supper tonight, for I can not wait to have a feast.” The last words may not he spoken loudly as his lips were truly beside your ears, however, you can hear it as it was meant to be heard by you only. Your cheeks could not contain the warmth that rises to its surface, only spreading further down your neck— flustered and hot everywhere when the back of his nimble fingers grazes your cheeks twice.

“Whatever do you mean by—“

“We shall meet again, Princess.” With a tentative smirk and a chuckle, he put down your hand and left as he was never there, with his own clasped behind his back striding out of the healing chambers. Your mouth still agape as to what he meant, your heart raced as your body burned with desire. You can only wish to be spared tonight, as you wanted to keep your virtue until you wed.

—

The gold ring glimmered under the light of fire within your chambers, you keep twirling your hand to get a glimpse of the engraved Valyrian words across the ring itself. Byka zaldrīzes. The writings wrote, there is a small ruby gem on the top, adorned with small scales to imitate that of your dragon’s— Silverwing. Aemond had given this to you few moons ago, when the Queen and small council have decided to betroth you both. It is “A token for our betrothal, to remind you that I have promised in the name of the Seven and all Gods to solely devote myself to you.” He had said. Little dragon.

Your heart fluttered at the thought, even when everyone deemed him the cold even sometimes heartless prince, he had shown you slivers of his tender nature. You of course knew of what transpired during his childhood, you knew of his torment, and his tormentors— you were there to witness by your ears, always trying to comfort him afterwards out of goodwill. The memory of it all remained fresh in your memories. After the death of your younger brother, Lucerys, both side of the throne were cold as ice, sharp as Blackfyre— alas you too would fly to Dragonstone if not for the binding vows of the betrothal your mother had arranged when you were a mere child.

You see, you were supposed to marry Aegon, the usurper soon to be king, however that came short when she decided to wed Aegon with Helaena instead, and reconcile the betrothal the deal, with binding you to Aemond, instead. At the time you knew the reason why she were to wed Aegon because Alicent disapprove of your twin brother Jacaerys for his lack of Valyrian blood, or so Alicent claimed.

You, however, was spared of the thoughts considering you were born with silver hair, striking that of your twin brother— mayhaps the reason why you were so fragile as a child, the Maester thought once that you could not have made it far to adulthood let alone reach your 15th name day. Your hand might be taken by a man you do not wish to wed out of loyalty to your mother but perhaps, unable to escape, this is the best possible outcome you could possibly get.

Letting out a sigh, you smoothen the red and gold dress you’re wearing, the sheer fabric on the sleeve of your arms are giving you room to breathe despite the tightness of your attire. Few strands of your silver locks tied in a braid behind your head, whilst the rest flowed down your shoulders freely. The most beautiful maiden in the realm, the ladies often said. You admired yourself in the mirror, before hearing the door knock.

“Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace, the Princes, and Princess have all waited for you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Lyana. I shall depart right away.”

Taking a deep breath, you shuffled your way out your chambers and into the dining hall. Two guards were stationed in front of the giant door, you nodded your head before they opened it. Taking a sight to your views, you can see the familiar faces of the Queen, your uncles and aunt. It seem that there is only five of you present, with one babe cradled inside Helaena.

“Your Grace, My Princes, and Princess.” You curtsied and bow your head before making your way inside. You locked eyes with that of Aemond’s, his lips curled into a grin as he set eyes on your beauty, before settling on the ring adorning your finger. You can also feel the heated gaze of Aegon interlocking between you and Aemond, Gods, you hope there will be no quarrel tonight between the two.

“Niece, it is a pleasure to be graced by your company again.” Came the voice of Prince Aegon with a smirk, already looking halfway intoxicated by the wine perched on his silver glass. “As it is mine, Your Highness.” you sat down on the chair, smiling at your hosts. “For I can see that my brother is assured to be… joyous.” Aegon chirped, you didn’t miss the glares Aemond threw his way.

“Has the remedy by the Maester treat your hand well, Princess?” Helaena asked you before giving his brother a chance to refute, you were thankful for her quick response. Darting to your palm, recognizing the piece of cloth it is still wrapped in. Trying not to grimace of your earlier humiliation, you just nodded your head, “Yes Princess, I cannot seldom express more of my gratitude for your kindness. It is treating very well.”

“That is a very good news indeed, now we shall feast on the supper.” Queen Alicent smiled at you, looking as uncomfortable with the brooding tension of her own sons— gesturing to the table in front of you. “How was the trip, Prince Aemond?” You tenderly tried to slice yourself a piece of roasted duck, only to hiss with the ever looming pain, sighing, you heard a click of the tongue belonging to none other than your betrothed.

“Allow me, niece.” Aemond voice cut through the silence as he offered to slice your meal for you. Warmth feels your cheeks once more as you pass your knife to him so he can cut it.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“It was pleasant enough, Vhagar was restless as she had to fly during a hailstorm, however, the journey felt too long knowing what awaits me in King’s Landing.”

The implication of his words made you look around, seeing his brother, the very man that threatens your mother’s throne snickered and with a huge grin adorning his face.

“My my, you have grown, brother, I did not know you could be so… feeble.” He swings his now empty cup so the servants can pour more wine inside. You inhaled sharply at his comment, knowing what awaits.

Shocks were thrown around the room as suddenly, the knife in the hand of your betrothed—belonging to you, are raised upon the soon to be Usurper’s King direction.

“I can and will have your tongue for that.” The air around you is thick with tension, “Aemond!” his mother gasped, a rivalry of heir successors that you have rarely seen in Dragonstone between your siblings, yet appear to be so common now in the grand pillars of the Keep.

“Enough—“

“You could do well try, if you can get past my guards, weakling.”

“Still hiding behind your guards? you are no man, merely a boy sent to be a fake king.” Aemond jabs, standing at his full height now— knife right against his brother’s neck. The clanking sound of the knight’s armor can be heard.

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.”

Next thing you heard was the loud banging of your knife on Aemond’s hands carved deep inside the table, he had stood up in a rage of fury, if looks could kill, Aegon Targaryen would be 12 feet under by now.

“I said enough!” You have in rare occasions see Queen Alicent be this mad even when her sons drove her crazy, let alone hear her voice this loud. The staring feast between Aegon and Aemond lasted even after the Queen told them to cut it off, looking at Helaena whom seem to be uncomfortable by the situation, you clear your throat and placed a soft hand gently on the back of Aemond’s shoulder.

“My Prince, perhaps I can show you, around the Keep? it has been long after all since you last set foot here.” You tried to keep yourself composed.

You carefully thread your words so neither brothers or queen for that matter, would raise the growing tension ever more. You bravely looked towards Aemond’s piercing stare at his drunken brother. A pregnant pause followed suit, before Aemond let out a scoff and turned around.

The screeching sound of his chair was loud in the silence that cut through the hall, he began walking away as you threw a curtsy before the Queen, and scurried after him outside the hall.

“Prince Aemond, please wait.” You tug the midway of your silk dress so you can follow his pace but he walked with as much rage as he did before. Slender and tall figure scurrying away. Hearing no reply coming from him, you let out a sound akin to a desperate whine.

“Dear will you please— Ah!”

You suddenly feel your back pressed against one of the walls inside the small hall not far from where the bed chambers were located. The walls felt cold to your back, your breathing was loud, so was his. Only then you registered that one of his hands were on your neck, wrapped around your delicate throat with enough pressure to block out some of the air when you inhale. The necklace given by your mother digging through your neck.

“You are quite the woman now, aren’t you, niece?” a teasing chuckle came soon after, “I am intrigued on how you have kept your innocence for all the time I have been gone, hm?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“W-what does that entail, Aemond?” your lips trembled when you speak of his name, you can feel his knees pressed to open the gap between your thighs— causing you to gasp and widen your soft lilac eyes.

“Still remains a maiden, Princess?” Aemond tilt his head, smiling throughout.

“I— of- of course, what are you so boldly implying?” You were taken aback by his implications, the stinging tears on your eyes are threatening to fall down along with the hoarseness of your voice.

“lykirī, issa jorrāeliarzys—“ scoffing in amusement, “I merely wanted to know how hard I can fuck you tonight.” You tried to wiggle away from his hold against your neck only for him to, once more, clicked his tongue at you as if you’re a disobedient child, and put his other hand on your waist to steady you against the wall— leaving no space to go. Calm, my love.

“ah ah, do not make a fuss now, sweet one. wouldn’t want to alert the whole castle on the doings of their virtuous Princess, now would we?”

You can feel his nimble fingers caresses the exposed skin of your hunched dress, the silk making way for his touches to graze yours ever so tantalizingly. “I have dreamed of this, —of you like this.” He muttered, “each time you soothed me after your cunt of brothers disrespected me.” you were still much shocked and flustered at his ministrations. Lips moving down to capture your neck, slowly moving down to the column of your now exposed throat.

“Aemond— not here…”

“Hush, dove. Now that you will soon be my wife, I shall have you whenever, wherever, and however I desire to.” His words are muttered against your skin, drawing soft breathy whines from you.

“Aemond, we should n-not… Please…” You tried to reason with him, even when your hips grinds against his pants covered knees— still nudged in the slope of your inner thighs. You felt your clothed bundle of pleasure rubbed ever so slightly against him when he further raised his knee against you. Making you whine in delight and frustration. “Gods! mmh, aem!”

“Seems to me that you wanted this as much as I do, little one.” He teased as he continues his quest, deep kisses left in his wake, “I shall claim you how I see fit, wouldn’t you say so, princess?”

You tried to answer him but only mewls and whimpers escaped out your lips as you continued to grind against his knees, meeting his now fasten pace, and the kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck just below your jaw is making you high. Gods, it feels like you’re set ablaze by thousands of dragon fire.

“Asked you a question, niece.”

“Yes! Gods yes! take me however you desire.” Your resolve has been breached once and for all, for you can not escape how intoxicating his touches are. You have been to wound up with all the realm duties, indulgence is not one for the Princess, however your desire is far too strong to resist your soon-to-be husband.

“You may not be a whore from the common streets, but you are my own, byka zaldrīzes.” Little dragon. “You will know how wrong my brother was after I fucked you.”

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.” The words exchanged by Aegon now rings on your ear.

Wanton moans escaped your lips as he continued his assault on your neck, he bent down a little to access the hem of your embroidery to push it down— you whined at the loss of his knee on your soaked cunt, “Why’d you st— oh gods!” you threw your head back against the wall at the feeling of his warm lips engulfing your now hardened buds.

“Patience.”

He muttered sharply before suckling on your teats, nipples darkened with blood rushing to them— all plump and Aemond salivated to the thought of them filling up when you, one day, will bear his child—children. “Cannot wait to fill you up, watch you swell with my babe.” He groaned, switching from one buds to the other— left you panting.

“Ah mm! can’t wait— oh! to carry your heir, my Prince…”

Whilst his mouth is preoccupied by your left nipple, his fingers are tweaking your other one, pulling and twisting— making you writhe in pleasure, you are sure that your small garment is soaked by now.

“You will never be able to escape me in our marit—“

You both were pulled from your pool of lust and pleasure when you heard the clanking noises of a knight’s armor rounding the corners of the Red Keep. Your eyes wide as you tried your best to push Aemond away only for him to raised an eyebrow and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, do not make a sound, little one.”

You were about to protest when you felt his other hand trailing up your haunched hem, his feet parting your lets.

“nnh—“ you tried to speak against his hand, but he just let out a scoff and pushed you impossibly deeper to the wall.

“Rȳbās.” Obey.

Pleasure overtook you as Aemond’s fingers pushed aside your garment, fingers came in contact with the flushed slick soaked flesh of your needy cunt. “you are enjoying this.” He shake his head with so much amusement to his gleaming eyes and smirking lips—voice just above a whisper to make sure no one heard him, but if you have to guess, he wouldn’t care if someone catches you anyways.

“Here I though my little Princess is a pious woman, and here she is, with a dripping cunt begging me to fuck her.”

You heard the clanking sound moving away, noises slowly disappearing into the cold night. “I’d rather say you have been wanting me to do this, is that what you mean by showing me around?” He chuckled deeply, feeling your already flustered face, heated more.

You gasped a breath of relief when his hand unclasped your mouth, “N-no. I truly wanted to—“

“No need to lie, zaldrītsos. Your cunt tells me enough.” with that he gave your pearl of pleasure a slap, you jolted with a loud whine “Aemond, fuck!” Little dragon.

Your pleasure was short lived, however, when he wrapped his arm below your knees before pulling you up his shoulder. Hauled you up before strolling down the hall to where the royal apartment quarters sits.

“Put me down, Aemond!”

“Quiet.”

He playfully patted your arse as he make his way to what you presume to be his chamber. You did not get a good look if there were guards stationed outside, as you thought they would be— he is the prince after all, it’s not like he could care less.

Aemond slam the door shut, before he puts you down and you catch your breath.

“Aemond, what was th—mmmh!”

Your complaints were cut short when he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate manner, lips engulfing your own, as his tongue breached past to enter your hot cavern. His free hand move up to grasp your hair in a tight knot as he slowly move you back towards his bed, the back of your thighs hitting the edge.

His tongue continued to explore yours as his hands roam over your body, from your sensitive jugular to your taut breasts, belly and the conjuncture of your thighs. You let out a gasp of relief and shock as he pushed you to the bed.

Aemond wasted to time to flip you over and manhandled you so that you’re face down on the bed, your back in a perfect arch, silver locks flows beautifully— your arse is up in the air, whilst your feet dangled from the edge. Having ripped your evening attire off, you’re left bare. Cunt exposed. Needy, soaked, and desperate for his attention.

“Kostilus…” your begs are mere muffled mewls by now as he stood to admire your beauty. Gods. He has waited for this for a long time. Your betrothal might just be the cure to his raging agony. Please.

You heard a thud—“Oh Gods!” throwing your head back, as his cold fingers gathered your slick and run them along your folds, gently at first. You turn your head slightly to see him only to had your moans halted.

It’s Aemond, but he no longer wears his eye-patch. His sapphire gem shone bright under the moonlight that seeped through the night sky of King’s Landing. His soft lilac eyes gleamed too. You’re enthralled by his beauty, every marks and turns.

“My, my… you’re drenched. Desperate, aren’t we?” He scoffed at your agape mouth, feeling his 2 of his fingers entering your cunt with vigor, you closed your eyes tightly as you clench on him in instinct. “Ah ah, none of that, open them now, dove.”

Your eyes fluttered open as he commanded, “Look at me, Princess—“ you did with your eyes droopy and sinful lips parted in shallow breaths, “In less than a moon time, you shall find yourself in this situation, each night in our marital bed, ñuhys ābrazȳrys.” it delighted you, and heated the fire in your core to hear his devotion. My wife.

“Y-yes husband.”

Aemond groaned as he sped up his fingers, squelching noises now aloud bouncing off the walls, “Say it again for me.”

“ahh.. mmh! fuck— I am yours, husband, I promise by the Seven!” His fingers grazed your most sensitive spot, as his palm graze your pearl.

“After I claim you, I’d have anyone’s heads that dared to look at you as I do.” The silken sheets beneath your fingers now creased as you keep on clenching them, “Not that they will ever try, not after you begin to swell.” you arched your back with your toes curled, building release arose inside your belly, “with my seed, my babe, my heir.”

“fuck yes! yes yes! as many as you wish.. please, Aemond!”

“Come for me, little one. I’ll fill you up afterwards.” His free hand tangled itself on your silver locks to yank it back, your body shaking with your high so close, eyes teary with your lips wet, raw, and bitten. Truly a sight reserved only for the Gods.

One more brush of his palm against your pearl simultaneously with his fingers abusing your core, all of it was too much as you let out a silent scream, you came on his fingers.

“Good lord! Aemond…”

“Fuck, princess…” His fingers does not let up, however, and continues its assault inside your now gushing cunt. “You are Gods sent.” He whispered before pulling his fingers out slowly, watching you thrash on the bed, licking his fingers afterward.

“Beats the sweetest Westerosi wines.”

You have no more strength to reply as your legs felt like jelly, however the heat in your cheeks and race of your heart never cease, your eyes blink slowly when you heard the soft clad of his tunic, then followed by his cloth pants fell down the floor.

“Ae—mmh!” Toes curling at the feeling of the flushed hard tip of his cock gliding over your now oversensitive folds, “Ready, little dragon?” he teases the entrance of your weeping cunt as you whined,

“Just put it in— Oh!”

“You—fuck! you are greedy for a maiden.” He slowly thrust his tip inside you making you wince at the intrusion. “Aemond… it hurts…” you closed your eyes briefly for Aemond’s length is not to be messed with… long, width as thick, and curved on the tip. You wish you have more time in the future to admire him fully. “Shh shh, the pain will subside soon, little one, stay with me.”

To ease the pain, his fingers once again found haven on your clit, softly pressing as you jolt in overstimulation, “Mmnh.. please…” your body is writhing in both pain and pleasure, “Hells, you’re so tight.” He grunted, pushing inch by inch as your cunt accommodates his size, before pushing it in one thrust.

Your back arched deeply as your mouth agape, loud mewls and moans escapes them on a rapid rate, as you sure the guards will be able to hear by now. His free hand let go of your hand and move to place them on the slope of your hips before moving to pull almost every inch of his length, then slams it back down to the hilt.

“You f-fill me up so much, my prince.” Moans are now freely came out of your lips, as he continued his unrelenting pace, thrusts that are deep as well as it is hard, giving you no chance to catch your breath. You felt like you are flying with your dragon, its that high pleasure that are like no other. “and I shall do— fuck, again and again to ensure my seeds take.”

Though composed, you can hear his breathing shallower than usual, his thrusts are erratic yet remains a choking pace on you. Your fingers grasp the sheets so tightly, you’d have no excuse if the maids found it shred the next day. “My prince—“

“Close?” he can feel your cunt tightening, and holding a vice grip to his cock, the clench made him lose his mind. Gods, he’d stay inside of you all day if you let him, “I’d rather spend my life inside you than to deal with my cunt of a brother.”

“and… and i’d let you.” your voice are jagged, as your body thrown forward and backward following his pace, cock filling your walls— you can feel every vein and ridge, making their indents known to claim you. “What an obedient little wife you’d be.” he muttered with vigor, his hips never relenting to stop, always reaching your spot.

“Only for you, my—oh! my prince!” your peak is nearing, you can feel it so does he, fastening the fingers on your clit, “Come for me, little one. Do it.” He encouraged you, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder tenderly, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Av— aaah oh gods!” you threw your head back, back arching and, “Aemond!” you peak, coming from him harder than the last, body slumping to the sheets as your high took over. “Please… please, fill me up. put your h—heir inside of me.” You begged with the last ounce of your strength.

Your cunt clenching on his length so tight that he is so close to reaching his own release, “Gonna put a babe in you, gonna— fuck! watch you swell over and over again.” He groaned loudly, feeling himself getting lost on you, in you.

“Avy jorrālean.” You half whine and whispered, “fuck!” Aemond releases inside you, coming with his seed pumping you full, whispering your name over and over again, against the skin of your neck. I love you.

You both panted, he held your now full belly in his palm before sliding out of you gently— his actions so soft and light, a striking contrast to his earlier ministration. “Oh.. Princess..” He cooed tenderly at you when he flipped you over and look to where you’ve separated, eyes focusing on your mixed fluids. “stop looking its—“

“Ah ah, shush, little dragon. let me take care of you.” He kissed your lips once more before placing a soft pillow beneath your head.

There and then you knew that you might not marry the kindest man, nor the man you dream of in all seven realms, however, you knew in your lonely despair, being wed to Aemond would satisfy your affections. Soon thereafter, you marry and in less than a moon time your belly began to swell, and you can only wish to raise the babe with your husband in a safe unbroken house.

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fhrlclln · 2 months

Note

I’ve been living for the Qimir fanfics. Can you write one where reader and him were lovers in the Jedi together, he thought she died, but actually the Jedi wiped her memory. When he bumps into her again he’s FURIOUS but also just happy that she’s alive and tries to get her memory back. Lots of angst but with a happy ending?👀

and here you stand | qimir

SUMMARY -> a man in your dreams feels like a distant memory you cannot seem to touch upon but when a particular meeting with a man in the streets of olega might be the answer to everything.

qimir x fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> angst & fluff

WC -> 2.85k

a/n: aNONz i hope this fic is what you requested for!!! i tried my best with the angst 😩🤌

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

the dream always started out softly...

a glimpse of a man with short black hair, dawning a padawan braid, smiling and laughing with you in the gardens of the jedi temple in coruscant. he’d always kissed you and for a moment in the dream, you could feel his hands gently caress your cheek and see the loving gaze of his eyes on you. but the dream was always somewhat blurry... you can't remember the young man's face but his laughter, his love you feel is everything to you. it was comforting, it felt like home but the moment his laughter ends, the dream did as well.

and you wake up with a longing feeling stuck in your chest.

you'd try to remember your times as a former jedi, a former padawan in your time in coruscant. hoping you could somehow remember the man in your dreams, for it felt it was a distant memory than a dream but it always ended up with no avail. it was painful enough that you missed being back in coruscant and to reoccur those memories again in hopes of remembering who the man in your dreams makes it even more painful.

that's until you had just given up at some point on remembering him.

you now reside in a humble planet called olega. the city was large enough for you to explore it in your first days of living there. you opened up a merchant stall, selling the local fruits and vegetables for consumption. leaving the order was a tough decision the council had made upon you, you were a gifted student, gifted with the force. it was strong within you but alas, you failed, you could not somehow learn to control your own self- your own emotions. you can't remember why back then and it haunts you to this day of your failure as a jedi.

but that didn't matter now.

your quiet life of being a merchant had its perks. you were not bound by an order anymore. there were no more responsibilities and expectations placed upon you. you didn't need to train every single day- but sometimes you missed your training lessons. you did miss your former master and padawans, for they were the second family to you. even if it was told that at that time, familial or romantic feelings were forbidden, you still saw them like that.

granted, it was hard to fall back into the normal routine of an everyday civilian. you had been with the order since you were a child. you still would close off your emotions from time to time with the people you grew to know with in olega, but you got the hang of it eventually in the years of living here. but sometimes you wished to go back to coruscant, hoping if you'd visit the gardens and the great tree, you might remember the man in your dreams.

but here you are, standing behind your stall as you packaged the fresh fruits for a customer. you handed to them with a smile on your face and humbly accepted their credits. you sigh, sitting on your stool as you counted your savings to see if it would cover the rent you have to pay for this month. it was enough, your stall was popular in demand because of how fresh your picks was and you were grateful for that. you stand up again, noticing that you had to close now, seeing that almost all your merchandise was sold.

"closing off early again?" the cheery voice of your fellow merchant quips. you laugh, shrugging as you started packing away.

"i am!" you chuckled, checking if everything is in place before you could leave. you adjusted your satchel as you put on your hood, bidding your fellow merchants a kind goodbye as you went off.

a hot meal would be nice, you think to yourself, before you'd head home. walking through a crowd, you squeeze yourself in as you excused yourself to get by. the heart of the plaza certainly was always full of people at this time. for a moment, a watchful feeling washed over your senses as you look up ahead.

your eyes meet with a man’s. his black hair is slightly disheveled and greasy and the way his eyes were set upon you made you confused for a moment how hard his stare was. you look away, getting out of the crowd, an uneasy feeling settling in your chest as you walk away quickly.

qimir stands still in the middle of the plaza, his heart is thumping loudly against his ribcage. it couldn't be you. he doesn't know if the glimpse of you in the crowd was a mere apparition of the force but the way you looked at him had him thinking otherwise. you disappear from the crowd and he is hot on his feet to catch up to you.

he watches you go into an alley way, he follows in-suit, thinking that you’re trying to escape him. his nostrils flare, his agenda for today to go to the local apothecary is out of his plans as he follows you.

he watched you die.

he was sure of it, that memory of you of pushing him into his own ship whilst you stand guard to help him buy him some time to get out of coruscant never left his mind. it haunted him until he lives and breaths and it enraged him that you foolishly given your life for him to flee before his own former master would have killed him.

you were supposed to be together, right?

he thinks bitterly as he squeezes in the alley way. a lot of questions pop in his mind, were you still with the jedi after all you and him have suffered through because of them? that you willingly stayed? that you faked your own death just to leave him? those thoughts made him feel betrayed. you were his light when he was in the darkness. you were the one that understood him despite your refusal to let yourself be seduced by the dark path. he understood you as well yet he hoped that you would see truth that what the jedi do is all a lie.

he quickens his steps and your figure is starting to inch closer to him. he immediately reaches out to grab your arm and push you towards the wall making you gasp as you struggled in his tight death grip as he cages you with his whole body before you could defend yourself.

“let go!” you yelled at him as he ignored your angry yelps as you tried to get out of his grip. he merely stares down at you as you looked up at him. he observes, waiting if an emotion of guilt would cross your face… but there was none? only confusion and annoyance were plastered across your face. and he somehow indulges in your close distance, the feeling of you in front him again has him weak. here you are, warm and smelling the same after years since he had fallen into a rabbit hole of revenge and hatred for the jedi that he thought they killed you.

“i said-“ you weakly tried to pry him off you. your heart was beating so loudly, fearing what this unknown man would do to you. you wished for a moment that the force could help you. he was much stronger, you could tell, even if he looked like a twig underneath his robes. “-let go!”

“you… you’re supposed to be dead.” he breaks his silence. your brows raised with confusion. dead? you wonder if this man was crazy for thinking of you like that. not once did you remember angering any person here for this kind of response.

“i’m standing right here, buddy.” you roll your eyes as he lessens his grip on your arm. and here you do stand, qimir thinks. you relax for a bit as the hard stare he gives you softens slightly. something in him tells him that you don’t even recognize him. and that makes him worried.

“do you know me?” he tests his theory, hoping it was not true. you know him, you would never forget about him.

you two were your other halves of each other’s body, soul and mind, never to be separated even if the cosmos were in between you two. you would always find each other in the end. even in death, you were his other soul, the half of his battered and broken heart. he knows you vow the same as he heard those vows underneath the great tree in the gardens of the jedi temple in coruscant.

i will never forget you. as you had said to him when his lips last touch yours before you threw him into his ship, leaving him in agony seeing you turn on your saber before his master slashes you with her saber.

i love you, qimir.

he blinks wetly. there’s a hollow feeling inside his chest when he sees that you don’t genuinely recognize him the slightest bit.

“…no? no, i don’t know you. look, sir, if you have any problem with me or you want money, i have some credits-“

“what i want is for you to tell me the truth.” he cuts you off, wondering if you were lying as he tries to peer into your mind. he feels furious, furious that you are acting like this but the desperation… the desperation of trying to see you at least recognize him is taking over. you feel the hum of the force, so familiar even if it had been years since you trained. but it wasn’t just that, his force felt familiar.

“…you wield the force.” you say as your eyes widened when you feel him try to pry in your mind. an instinct in you erupts as you somehow managed to surprise him by grabbing him by his arm and the collar of his robe then pushed him into the wall that you were pressed against, making the roles reverse. qimir lets you do that as he looks down at you, a sadness in his eyes as he realizes that you don’t remember him.

what happened to you?

“you don’t remember me…” he whispers, defeated. he grips your wrist gently as a congested look of hurt is across his face.

“and you know me?” you ask, somehow feeling like he knows you more intimately than you had expected. confusion is breaking your calm mind, it frightens you that somehow you feel like what he’s saying is so close to the truth but you can’t discern it clearly. you know nothing of him. you let him go and qimir almost wobbled in his knees when your touch is gone.

he nods and your chest suddenly hurts. you back away, frightened and confused, it was overwhelming that you feel for him but don’t remember him. before qimir could utter anything else, you walk away. he watches you go, sensing that something was wrong. something had been wiped away in your mind with the memories of him and he feels lost. the one person that had stayed with him throughout his grievances and frustrations, the one good person he thought dead and the one woman he loved doesn’t remember him.

he’ll have to talk to you again when he wills himself.

・゜゜・．

it had been days since you last saw that strange man and your dreams have been getting even more vivid.

it was scaring you.

remembering the look in his eyes, you saw that he did in fact know you. but you don’t know him. sometimes when you wake up now after dreaming of that young man in your dreams, it felt like something in you was lost. and that your mind was actively trying to remember, trying to hold on what was missing but it always fails. and it leaves you feeling so lost and confused.

you sit by your bed now. you haven’t started your day like the usual. you felt sick, nauseous and incredibly exhausted of trying to will yourself to remember that strange man. his touch felt familiar when you remember it, his voice was somehow a comfort and his gaze… you know you would be in trance with those dark eyes of his that spoke of tenderness.

your eyes felt heavy as the sun peaks through the blinds of your windows. you sigh, weakly trying to get up. you felt you were about to fall back onto your bed again until a knock on your door surprises you. you freeze, the knocks then grew more louder and you sighed, thinking it was your landlord as you get up, wrapping your cloak around you.

you push the red button on the control panel as the sound of your door swiftly opening doesn’t ready you for him to be standing by your doorstep. you freeze, seeing that he’s dressed in another way-too-huge robes on him. he looks at you for a moment, taking in your face of confusion.

“i just want to talk.” he pleads and you stay frozen in your spot for a moment, wondering if you want to talk with him. but deep inside, your heart is telling you yes as it beats loudly.

“okay.” you say quietly as you let him in. qimir relaxes as you close the door once he crosses the threshold and he stands inside your small apartment.

“how long have you been living here?” he asks, looking around the place. “in olega… i mean.”

“seven… eight years, i think?” you answer as best as you can. “i stayed in coruscant for a couple of months before moving here.”

“why?” he asks further, confused.

“i left the jedi… i used to be a jedi.” you shrug. “it was the council’s decision why i couldn’t continue my training.”

“because?”

“…i- because they said i didn’t control my self, my emotions.” you sighed, not liking that you were telling this stranger of your failure. a stranger that you somehow know. you remind yourself.

“and you’re sure the council had told you that was their true reasons for letting you go?” he faces you, understanding bit by bit what happened to you. "they lied."

“why do you ask me? are you a jedi or was- as well?” you ask him now.

“i was.” he nods bitterly.

you blink. “then how do you know me?”

“we were…” he starts, finding his words to try and let this information on you easily. your memories were wiped as far as he could tell. he thinks that vernestra orchestrated to do this to you when they had disarmed you at some point after he had escaped. for it was to conceal those outside the jedi order of his existence and that it may put them in a political disaster. he scoffs at that in his mind. he wills himself not to go to the local jedi temple and slaughter master torbin himself for this, out of spite he’ll kill them all in there.

“you and i, we shared a bond.” he softly says as he nears you and you let him. “a bond that the order told us that it was forbidden.”

you blink, understanding what he meant. did the jedi lied to you? you think, feeling betrayed by the order that you had respected could do this to you. his soft gaze felt familiar and you reel in to his gentle voice. qimir’s chest filled with hope seeing you slowly start to understand him even though you still don’t know him.

“i am yours.” he takes your hand to his, placing it above his chest. “and you are mine.”

“and together…” those words leave your lips without even you registering it for a moment as he presses his forehead against yours. you shudder, your eyes welling up with tears, feeling overwhelmed as this felt like the scene in your dreams. this man was the young man in your dreams. you realized, why you somehow feel like you know him.

vows in the gardens, whispering it underneath the great tree. two padawans’ hearts beating with one another and the sweet song of love fills their chests as they become one. bound to eternity forever.

“we are bound to each other forever.” he finishes as he wipes the tears streaming down your face.

“i want to remember you…” you sobbed, your own chest hurting for not remembering him. this man that you had just met days ago but felt like you’ve known him forever. qimir smiles sadly as he pulls you into his arms. you cried on his shoulder, loving the way his arms felt around you.

you don’t even know his name and it breaks your heart again.

“i’ll help you remember. we found each other again.” he vows and promises he’ll make you remember. his own eyes wetting with his tears as he nuzzles his face on your soft hair and he whispers. “i promise.”

but all that matters now is that you are with him at last.

#qimir x reader #qimir #the stranger x reader #the stranger #manny jacinto #the acolyte #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s request box 📦 ｡･:*˚:✧｡

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motherlvr · 1 year

Text

just friends?

she fell first, he fell harder

wc: 2.2k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: In the early years of your adolescence, you made the grave mistake of asking Miles to ‘practice kissing’ for future suitors. That mistake would come back to bite you every following day.

Warnings: cursing, childhood friends to lovers, friends that kiss, jealousy, started off the fic with a bang cuz i dont believe in small talk, possessiveness

A/N: what happened to hello? what happened to how are you?

----------

Your current predicament was straddling Miles' lap as you both kissed like this would be the last time you ever did. His hands grabbed onto your thighs that encased his legs. Pulling away for a second, you watched as a small string of saliva binds both of your lips.

Looking down at him, you asked out of breath, "We're still just friends, right?" The question caught him off guard. But he responds with a teasing smirk, "Yeah, yeah ma. Just friends." You nervously bit your bottom lip, nodding at his response. Wrapping your hands onto his braids, you smashed your lips against his yet again to ignore your conflicted thoughts.

It's times like this when your past mistake comes back to haunt you. And he made sure you never lived it down. The mistake in question was made on the playground with Miles when you were both ten. Being the young and innocent child you were, you proposed to 'practice kissing' for potential lovers in the future. As all kids do. He accepted and it all sprouted from there. You were each other's first kiss.

That first kiss was only one of many to come. You both had urges, after all. Since your younger days, it turned into something a bit more than just practice. But you never gave it a second thought. Until of late. What used to be a silly playground crush on Miles only grew stronger as the years passed by.

In all honesty, you had no clue where you stood with Miles. What were you, friends that kiss periodically? That was how it was, you suppose. But what you did know was that you'd stay by his side no matter the circumstance. Even if it meant that your friendship would never develop into more. Although occasionally you wished you never initiated to 'practice kissing' with him in your naive and prepubescent years. That would solve your problem at its roots and prevent the rapidly growing feelings you had for him. It was no doubt a mistake in your mind.

Separating your lips for a second time, you pulled away again. He stared at you in confusion. You looked frantic, "Shit, what time is it?" Glancing at the time on your phone, you cursed. It was 3:30 pm. "Fuck, I have a date at four o'clock. I gotta go, Miles." You jumped off of Miles' lap on his bed and swiftly started packing up your things.

Miles felt jealousy start to boil within his stomach as his lap felt empty. He was right here, why would you need to go on a date with some other guy? Furrowing his brows, he irritably questioned, "Fuck you mean you gotta date? With who?" He tried to conceal his annoyance but failed miserably.

"Some guy from my physics class asked me out, sorry but I gotta go." Grabbing your bag, you pecked his cheek lightly as a goodbye. Glancing in his mirror one last time, you tamed any stray strands of hair.

Your response only fueled his jealousy, "Do you even know his name?" He started interrogating you.

"Of course I do, it's..." You paused for a second to think, and your conclusion was unclear. Your mind was foggy. "I think it's Javi? Or maybe Jake? Jacob? Shit, I think you kissed the thoughts right out of my brain." You rambled. Your words made him crack a slight smirk, and he said, "Nah, you ain't going on that date ma." pulling you back into his hold by your hips.

"I can't just stand him up, Miles." You told him, starting to regret agreeing on going on the date. "I could take you on a better date than he can, mami." He suggested.

He was full of surprises this afternoon. Usually, he didn't display such possessiveness. You didn't even like the supposed guy you were going on a date with. You just thought he could help you get your mind off of Miles for a few minutes.

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Is that an offer?" "It's a promise." He responded without an ounce of hesitation. The way he was staring at you almost made you take him up on it. "Tempting, but I'll have to take a rain check. See you tomorrow. Alright, Miles?" You waved goodbye and walked out his door.

"'Ight, ma. See you." He gave up. As he watched you walk out the door of his room, he groaned in frustration.

The unfortunate recipient of his frustrations was a punching bag in his Uncle Aaron's apartment. Striking the bag with all the force he could muster, the punching bag rumbled on the chain it was strung upon. His knuckles were slowly getting bloodier with each hit, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel you. It was the only thing he wanted to feel, anyway.

His Uncle inevitably noticed his behavior. Cleaning off one last knife, he set it down and walked towards his nephew. He held the punching bag steady and questioned him, "What's up with you, man?"

Continuing to throw punches at the unsuspecting punching bag, he responded sharply. "It's nothin'. Just my girl going on a date with some other guy." His nostrils flared slightly.

With those two sentences, his Uncle understood his sour mood. "That doesn't sound like nothing. And you just let her? I don't think you're my nephew, man." Shrugging, Miles took a quick water break. Taking a long swig of water, he replied, "You know her, she's stubborn." He had introduced you to his Uncle a while back. His whole family knew you, in fact. Every time he went back home, his mother asked about you. How you are, and when he’s going to tell you how he feels. It seemed everyone knew. Except you.

"Hey. If you want this girl, you gotta show her before someone else does." His Uncle wisely told him. Miles stopped hitting the punching bag and started wrapping his bloodied knuckles in bandages.

Those words stuck with Miles for the rest of the night as he made his way back to his dorm.

Laying on the bed of his dorm, Miles stayed up thinking about what his Uncle told him. His dorm felt empty without you there, he realized.

The next afternoon in his dorm again, you laid on your stomach on his bed, kicking your feet in the air. You frequented his dorm so often that you were more of a roommate to him than his actual one. Glancing at Miles, you noticed the bandages on his knuckles. “Ay, Miles. What happened?” You asked him, taking his hand into yours to inspect it. He disregarded it, "Don’t worry 'bout it.” He continued, addressing the elephant in the room. “How was your date with Javi, Jake, or Jacob?"

You casually respond, "Actually, his name was Jason. And it was fine, I suppose. Although I called him by the wrong name a few times until he corrected me." You mumbled the last part, embarrassed. Not to mention, you almost called him by Miles' name. Not just once but multiple times.

"Just fine, huh?" He replied, intrigued. And slightly satisfied that you didn't have too good of a time.

"Yeah. I mean, he tried kissing me by the end. But his breath reeked of garlic, so I looked the other way and pretended I didn't notice." You said with a grimace, pretending to get flashbacks. In reality, Miles ruined kissing for you. You couldn't stop seeing Miles' face as your date was leaning into you. He wasn't him.

Stifling a laugh, he grinned at you. "So, that mean you wanna take me up on my offer?" You whipped your head to him in surprise as you said, "You were serious about that? I mean, I'm down." Friends go on dates, don't they? You thought to yourself.

Nodding his head, he said, "I made a promise, ma." He started to stand up, gently grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. Locking your hand onto his arm, he led you out of campus.

Miles brought you to an endearing cafe only a few blocks away from the campus. A diamond in the rough, you thought. As you both sat down across from each other, you felt your nerves spiking.

Truth be told, he still made you nervous at times. Although you've undoubtedly been friends with him for longer than either of you could remember. The both of you ordered food and you started to speak, "So, you take all your girls here, Miles?" Putting on a calm facade, you teased him. You were glad he couldn't see your leg bouncing with anxiousness underneath the table.

He let out a slight puff at you, "What girls? Solo eres tú, mami. You know that." Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Widening your eyes, you murmured, "I didn't know that, actually." You cleared your throat and enunciated, "How'd you find out about this place then?" Your voice piqued with interest. You didn't believe he would frequent this cute cafe in his spare time. It wasn't exactly his scene, so to say.

"This is where my dad took my ma on their first date." He said with an unusually soft tone, staring into your eyes for your reaction. You would never guess it, but he saw a future with you. Ever since that day on the playground, he knew it was real. His affection for you never dimmed since then.

As you both locked eyes, you realized then that he took you to a place that was sentimental to him and his family. This cafe was where his parent’s story first started. All of a sudden, this date felt a bit more serious than he had originally let on.

Under his stare, you felt your face go warm, "That's beautiful, Miles." After a few moments, you continued, "I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, though." His response came quick, "Never, mami. What makes you say that?" You confessed the thoughts that swarmed your brain right when you walked into the cafe, "I mean, this place feels a bit intimate for people that are 'just friends'" You said with air quotations.

"I think we're past that stage. Don't you, princesa?" You nodded at him. He was right, you thought. After all, friends don't usually have an oral fixation for their friend's mouth.

Your orders came at the same time. You both comfortably conversed. It was a nice change of pace after your date from yesterday. After you both ate your orders and paid, Miles and you walked down the street with his fingers settling on your waist. You spoke up, "Thanks for bringing me here today, Miles. I had a good time with you." You wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him til he couldn't breathe, but resisted.

"Anytime. If it meant you'd stop going on dates with other guys." He said casually, but his grip firmed on your waist. Your head turned to him at his words. After your date with Miles, you were sure he ruined dates for you as well. Just like he ruined your ability to kiss anyone else. "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'll want to go on a date with anyone else after this." You said under your breath. He silently grinned.

As you both made your way back to Miles' dorm, the urge to brush your lips against his only became stronger. You could tell he felt it, too. You noticed how he walked a bit faster to go back to his dorm.

Once the door to his room opened, you gave in to your desires and pulled him in by his hoodie to connect your lips. He backed you against his door as his hands traveled all over your body like it was a new territory he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't get enough of you. Groaning into your mouth, he deepened the kiss impossibly more. You both parted for a moment to get a quick breath of air.

Staring into his eyes, you told him before you lost the courage, "I don't want to be just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes when they feel like it." He looked at you like you just told him he won the lottery. In his eyes, this scenario was better than winning the lottery. He grinned as he kissed you again. Full of heat, his kiss spoke louder than words. "Then why don't we be lovers that kiss?” He pulled away to whisper against your lips. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” You smiled against his lips.

That kiss from yesterday would be the last kiss you shared. As friends, that is. And this would be your first kiss as lovers. From the very first chapter of your life, he was there. And to the present-day chapter of your life, he's still here with you. In the end, It'll always be him and you.

------------

solo eres tú - it’s only you

princesa - princess

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miles morales spider man #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #spider man #friends to lovers #prowler miles #jealousy #childhood friends to lovers #childhood friends #prowler miles morales #miles morales #miles morales prowler #spider man: across the spider verse #friends that kiss

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annwrites · 3 months

Text

sons & daughters. part three.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: cregan gives you a tour of the crypts & you begin to open up to one another. sharing truths continue that afternoon in the godswood when you are alone together.

— word count: 6,777

— a/n: i hope this all flows together okay. the godswood portion was actually supposed to happen sooner, but then chapter 2 came along & i rearranged some things so it could still fit.

The next morn comes early with a rapt knock at your door, which interrupts your slumber.

It had taken some time, after parting from Lord Stark, for you to find rest.

You had spent a handful of hours in bed reading, even peeking outside from your balcony when you began to hear wolves howling in the distance. Instead of the sound frightening you, however, it had instead filled you with a sense of longing.

Their singing at the moon was what had eventually lulled you to sleep, though.

You slowly rise, rubbing at your tired eyes before throwing on a shawl and padding over to the door, ready to wring Jace’s neck—as if whatever he wants cannot wait another hour or two. Someone will most certainly become dragon meal, but it won’t be you.

You open the door and promptly shut your open mouth when you are instead met with the sight of Lord Cregan, standing tall before you. Dressed and ready for the day in polished black leather, looking down at you, his eyes trailing along your body before meeting your own once again.

You watch as he swallows thickly, licking his lips.

“Forgive me, Princess. I have woken you.”

You had not been aware he would wish to visit the crypts so early in the morn.

Yet another mistake by you. But of course. What else?

You shake your head, quickly tucking wild strands of hair behind your ears. “No, My Lord, it is I who should apologize. I…could not find sleep the night last. I’m afraid I thus overslept. I have not forgotten about your offer, to show me the crypts.”

You glance behind you, toward your wardrobe, then back to the young lord. “If you would give me a moment, My Lord, to dress, and I will join you promptly.”

You feel wholly off-kilter like this. Tired—just having woken—not properly dressed.

Forgetful.

He nods, once, eyes glancing to your bare feet. “Princess.”

Once dressed, you emerge from your chambers in a soft, warm gray gown, your hair braided and resting atop your shoulder with various pearl pins shoved into it, and you are bundled up beneath your dress, same as the day previous.

Cregan is leaned against the wall opposite your door, foot planted against it, wrist hanging loosely over the pommel of his sword, and when his head rises to look at you, a small smile graces his lips.

He steps toward you then, reaching out, taking your braid between his fingers, which slide gently down the length of it, fingertips brushing over the small baubles you’ve placed along it.

His eyes flit to yours then, as he drops his hand, offering you his arm. “Shall we go, Y/N?”

You merely nod, at a loss for words at his simple touch, as you wrap your own arms securely round his own.

The two of you walk quietly across the yard, crisp snow crunching under your feet, only a few about at this early hour, such as servants and kitchen staff—the sun just beginning to rise in the east. You pull your cloak more tightly around yourself, the morning chill biting against your skin.

And then Cregan leads you underground, down a winding set of stone stairs, until darkness envelops the two of you for only a moment—your heart pounding in your ears—until brazier upon brazier comes into sight, lining an endless dark tunnel—crypts on either side, of men and women both.

You suddenly release Cregan’s arm then, stepping up to the first one you see in wonder.

“Torrhen Stark,” Cregan remarks from behind you.

You look over his finely carved face, deeming him ruggedly handsome.

Cregan comes to stand beside you.

“Do you...regret what he did?” You ask quietly.

He glances to you with a raised brow. “I believe it would be considered treason to.”

You remain silent, awaiting a proper answer.

He sighs. “I suppose at times, perhaps. But had he not, you would not now be here.”

He would be all the more fortunate for it, you think.

“Had he not, had the kingdoms not been broken apart into seven pieces—truly eight, when you think about it—I doubt such a potential war would be brewing at the moment, making my presence here wholly unnecessary.”

“Even before the conquest, we still yet fought one another.”

You nod, stepping over to the next crypt. “Do you not think it better, for those who best understand their lands and customs and people to control them, as opposed to…an outsider?”

He is taken aback to hear you say such things. Northern Independence is not a new idea, but for you to desire independence for all from Southron serpents...

You turn to look at him.

You wrap your arms round yourself. “I only meant… The realm is very large, and to have one head leading it seems a miscalculation, mayhaps.”

There is a beat of silence before you speak again. “I am only glad it will never be mine own.”

You glance down to a direwolf crypt, smiling at it. You weren’t aware stonemasons designed such things. “My duties will, instead, lie in other areas,” you then state.

His brows furrow. “Such as?”

You grow quiet then.

“Y/N,” he presses.

You do not wish to speak on the matter, knowing soon enough such arrangements will come to surely pass. They nearly had once already, and not so long ago, at that.

Mayhaps…you should have agreed. But you know even if you had, things would still have transpired just as they have. Such a marriage would only have complicated matters, if not made them worse.

You’d had so many secrets as children—you and he—what is a proposal, if not another one?

You intend to keep it locked away in your heart—something to hold onto when you one day are forced to wed for duty, instead of want. Because you had wanted. Even for only a moment.

You walk further down the line and further still, and Cregan decides not to push the subject.

“I hope you do not find all of this macabre, Princess,” he states, placing a comforting hand against your back.

He is trying his utmost to maintain a healthy balance of referring to you by both names: your given, and your proper title. He fears growing too used to the former and slipping up amongst others, such as your brother.

Even if calling you by it is far more preferable. Comfortable, even.

You shake your head. “Not at all. I find it fascinating. It is, after all, a singular opportunity. Once my brother and I leave, I fear I will not be presented with it again. I imagine I will never, in fact, see the North again once we return to Dragonstone.”

He ignores his heart squeezing at the thought.

“Not even to visit?” He asks casually, fingers trailing along your spine.

You give him a forced smile. “I imagine I will be wed soon enough. So as to gain my mother an army or castle stronghold or coin to fund this war when the time comes. At that point, my place will be where my husband deems it be.”

You talk about it so flippantly that it unnerves even him, as if it is a fate you have already resigned yourself to: doing as you are told without quarrel. Your own wants and wishes be damned.

You continue walking—his hand eventually falling away—until you have reached closer to the end of the line, and are greeted with the sight of a young woman set in stone.

Cregan gazes upon her for just a moment, feeling an ache at her being so close, but yet so far from him.

He clears his throat then. “My late wife, the Lady Arra Norrey.”

You swiftly turn your head to look at him, while he looks at her and your heart breaks at the look of longing within his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, truly, truly meaning it. You cannot imagine such a pain.

He nods. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You look back to her. “She was very beautiful.”

“She was. My son looks much like her. When he was born—the same day the Gods saw fit to take her from me—he was my perfect reflection. As he has grown, he has come to resemble her more and more. Both a blessing and a curse. Through him, I will never forget her, but also yet reminded of what I have lost.”

You both grow quiet then, only the occasional pop or crackle coming from the lit braziers to break it.

Until you speak.

“I suppose in that much I will be fortunate,” you say, merely above a whisper.

He looks at you, waiting for elaboration. “Princess?”

You look at him, softly smiling. “I do not mean to say that I will not mourn, if one day I were to lose my lord husband. But…no one will ever want, nor marry me for love. So if I lost him, I think it would make the pain easier to carry. A small comfort, I know.”

He stares down at you with furrowed brows in disbelief at what you have just said.

You continue to stare up at him, feeling uneasy at the darkening look upon his face.

Oh Gods, you had offended him. Had upset him. How could you have said such a thing? Mayhaps he feels you have insulted her—her memory. This is why you prefer to be alone. Or, at the very least, when near others: utterly silent.

“Forgive me, My Lord, I did not mean to—”

“Do you truly believe such a thing?” He says, interrupting—his tone that of steel.

You take a small step back, now frightened. “I—”

Tears sting your eyes. You had been too open. Too ignorant. You should have known better than to speak so honestly with a man who is still yet a complete stranger to you.

What if you have now ruined everything Jace has been working so diligently to accomplish? Neither he, nor your mother, will ever forgive you. How could you have been so careless with your words?

He leans down toward you and you nearly flinch, but compose yourself, thinking he now seems the very wolf that is emblazoned upon his broad chest.

“You think no man could ever love you?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

His eyes flit between your own. “Whatever man marries you should be aware of just how blessed he is to have you to take to wife. By all the Gods—Old and New. And for you to, much more, one day be the mother of his children? I cannot imagine a finer fate. For if he does not realize it, he is wholly unworthy of having you.”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. He…surely he does not mean it.

"That...is very kind of you to say, Lord Stark. But I am aware of my position in the world. What I am to prospective suitors. A means to an end. My title—my heritage—is something to bring them ever closer to the throne, mayhaps, or glory. At the very least remembrance, to be printed within historical texts. When men look at me, just as the same as they did with my mother when she was younger than even I, they do not see us for who we are, but rather, what.

"If I am fortunate, I only hope whomever I am wed to sees me as more than just a walking womb. If not...I must be content with that. At the very least, I will have my children, if nothing else in all the world."

You glance toward the exit, ready to leave.

You do not wish to discuss this any further.

You step past him.

Cregan refuses to let you leave with that. How can you possibly think so little of yourself? How can you care naught about your future? About your welfare?

He suddenly takes your hand in his, turning you back toward him.

Your brows furrow, glancing down to where he now has you within his strong grip.

"You would give up so easily? Just...let whomever is the highest bidder have you without dispute?"

"It is not up to me."

Even if it once had been. For only a moment.

You know you must let it go now.

For it does not do well to dwell on things that never will be.

"From what I understand, your mother was given a choice," he insists.

You slip your hand from his grasp. "War was not looming on the horizon when she was. Everything is different now."

You take a step back, putting distance between you.

He wishes to reach for you again, but withholds.

He grasps for something to say—anything—to make you see sense, but even he himself knows that what you say is the way of things for highborn ladies. That your lives are never truly your own.

And then he thinks of the meeting he is meant to have this morn with his advisors. Knowing that he, too, will be subjected to the same, as he has continually been since Arra's passing: further insistency that he wed again. And soon.

He has but one son—one heir. If something were to happen to Rickon—something as simple as illness—he will be without issue. And without a sibling to succeed him, he fears Winterfell falling back into his imprisoned uncle's clutches once more.

He who had thirsted for power, instead of righteousness.

He is not fit to lead the North. Not anymore. Not now that he showed his true nature those years ago.

Cregan follows silently behind you as you exit the crypts, not wishing to leave matters between you like this as you part ways for the day, but he knows not what else to do.

He knows that further false words of assurance would be of little comfort.

Once you have both reached the surface, he places his palm against the small of your back once again. Merely wishing to touch you. Have you close to him. "May I escort you back inside, Y/N?"

You merely nod, trailing along beside him silently.

Once you have reached your room, you reach for the handle, until Cregan speaks again. "If it was up to you, what would you wish?"

You slowly turn back to him. "Forgive me, I do not know what it is that you mean."

He steps closer to you, while you are forced between his towering form and the solid wood of the door behind you.

"If someone put your fate in your own hands to do with as you wished, what might you choose?"

It once again comes to mind, a conversation from only a few days past.

Then perhaps we steal away in the dark of night, married in secret by a septon, he had told you while holding you close.

You look down, gripping the fabric of your dress nervously. Wondering if you should disclose it.

If you did, whom would he tell?

At that, you do not need to provide him the man's name.

You sigh. "I had such an opportunity once. Not so long ago. And yet still, I put others before myself. Because I knew what would come of it had I said yes. Mayhaps I should have. Even if it would have only worsened matters."

You shake your head. "So, I do not know anymore. I've spent nigh on my entire life trying to prepare myself for the prospect of a loveless marriage, so I am not disappointed when I am finally thrust into one. And then I am given an opportunity to procure myself something otherwise, and I still repudiate it."

His brows furrow, heart hammering, fist tightening at his side. Already one has asked for your hand.

Whom?

He wants his name.

"You have received a wanted proposal," he states flatly.

You shrug. "We were close friends as children," you start.

Cregan thinks to himself how he much understands what such a bond feels like. That it is not something which is easily replaced.

And now he feels envious of a faceless man over a girl he barely knows. One who has shown little interest in him thus far.

But he does now understand why, at least.

The way you spoke of yourself...of course you would never think yourself as desirable by another. Not truly.

Not until him, whomever he may be.

He wishes to discover it.

"May I ask whom?"

You finally look up to him once more and he does not much like the glassy look in your eyes. You miss him, then. This suitor. This...friend.

"You may, but I will not tell. It is for he and I alone to have knowledge of. It is...personal."

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "Do you love him?"

You don't understand his deep interest in a matter which does not concern him.

You dislike this sudden inquisition into your own private matters. You regret discussing it at all.

It was just that he had shared something with you: his beloved wife's final resting place, so you had tried to offer a bit of truth in return. Mayhaps you should not have.

"As a friend, I did once. He has since changed. We simply grew apart. He became someone else, someone I no longer recognized."

That blade cut deeper than just the surface that night. It permanently scarred more than just his face.

Already, after leaving the Red Keep, your relationship had been precarious, but the way he had looked at you while holding tightly to his mother as blood seeped from his injured eye—even as you cried for him....you then knew he was lost to you.

That fact was cemented further when he stopped replying to your letters.

And then you stopped bothering with writing them.

He takes a step back then, allowing you, finally, to breathe. Being near him makes you feel so...enveloped.

"I am sorry to hear it," he replies.

"I am sorry it happened," you whisper, turning your back to him and finally slipping into your room.

Cregan stands there, head swimming. He'd thought that he finally had you figured out: sweet, demure, unable to see your own worth, yet now he comes to discover of a secret romance between you and an unnamed man, which you refuse to elaborate on.

As he turns, headed toward the solar to meet with his advisors, he hopes they do not stoke his ire, as his jealousy has already been set ablaze.

You remain in your private room for awhile, pacing, considering.

You know it is foolish to consider such a thing. Accepting...it would do naught against what has already been done, as you keep telling yourself over and over again—desperately trying to pound it into your head.

And what benefits would it bring to your mother's side, anyway? None. Besides, it would break her heart and lay at her feet yet one more betrayal. And so soon after the last...

But what of you? What will happen to you now?

It is becoming—as time rows on and you grow older—blaringly obvious that signing yourself over to a miserable fate is far easier said than done.

You do not want to be alone, even in marriage. Do not want to be afraid and miserable.

You want...

You want.

Eventually, you exit your room, knowing remaining indoors will do little to ease your troubled and anxious mind. You cannot dwell on such things. Not here. Not now.

Outside.

You need outside where you feel less suffocated and cloistered away.

Mayhaps you will journey into the Godswood to sit alone for awhile.

You wish desperately to stop thinking.

Your footsteps falter and you turn away from your current destination, deciding to instead head in the direction of clanging steel, curious to see how the men train here.

You imagine it can't be terribly different from how they do so in the South, but you are interested, nonetheless.

Something to distract you.

Yes, that is what you need.

When you finally enter the Courtyard, your brows raise at the sight of Jace sparring against Lord Cregan. You decide to keep your distance, not wanting to throw off your twin by him spotting you as he tries desperately to beat back his northern combatant.

Cregan is near-relentless in his endeavors to subdue his opponent, who—while you would never state it plainly to his face—falls woefully short in terms of swordsmanship skills against the stoic young lord.

Jace stumbles back as Cregan rains down blows from above with—you hope—a dulled sword. He seems somewhat irritated somehow.

You hope it is not with your brother.

You take a step closer, and then another, and notice that Cregan is speaking to him—educating him—as he fights.

"Pay attention to your opponent's feet, young Prince. Anticipate their next step."

Clang.

"Turn—yes. Hit hard—from the side."

Clang.

"Keep your head up, or I'll ring it like a bell. Good!"

Clang.

Jace swings forward, Cregan dodging the move with deft footwork.

Just then, their swords meet, Cregan pushing back against your twin with all his might, until Jace falls, sword clattering beside him. Before he can even attempt at reaching for it, Cregan quickly kneels, holding his practice sword close to his throat. "Does my opponent sue for mercy?"

They both grin then as Jace nods in reply.

You are surprised that Lord Cregan had not gone easy on him, out of fear of retribution for 'showing him up', not that Jace is that sort of young man.

Finally, he takes Jace's hand in his, helping him to his feet.

Just as he does, he spots you, a gloved hand held up to your grinning lips as you head in the direction of the Godswood.

Your smile quickly fades, however, as your stomach turns when you enter the empty wooded area.

It hadn't merely been a playful game between young men... It was training for war.

You suddenly imagine Jace dying with a sword in his hand—Vermax falling from the sky—your mother wailing in agony over the loss of her firstborn son and fire raining down upon the enemy for it. Even for they you have sympathy.

You round the large heart tree which stands before a glistening pond of cool blue water and lean back against it, squeezing your burning eyes shut, willing the tears away.

But it only gets worse—your imagination running away from you. Not even coming here was going to soothe you, then.

Lucerys, who is still yet a child, with a sword thrust into his terrified hands, and Joffrey, still yet practically a babe, who may not even remember those who will be forever lost to him in battle.

And then there is Viserys and Aegon—both so young and tender.

Who...if you are all gone, who will raise them? What if...what if the Greens, instead, use them as veal for their dragons?

You feel sick.

You choke down a sob, covering your mouth with trembling hands. Oh Gods, what is happening?

"Princess?" Calls a concerned voice to your right, utterly gentle in tone, his fire quickly extinguished at the sight of you in distress.

You quickly wipe your flushed cheeks, even if you know it is of no use: he has seen you.

"Lord Cregan," you manage to say through the stinging tears.

He comes closer, throwing 'propriety' and 'decorum' to the wind as he cups your face in his hands, his brows furrowed, hard eyes full of worry. "Has something happened? If someone here has—"

You shake your head. "No. It's—"

You burst into tears then, imaging the fall of your family. All of them. Even those you are now meant to call enemy and usurper and worse.

He then pulls you close to him, against his chest, and you press your face against his leather jerkin, which smells of smoke and steel, as he wraps sturdy arms around you.

He gently runs his strong fingers through your soft hair, before cradling the back of your head in his callused palm, shooshing you, desperately wishing to comfort you from whatever has you in such disarray.

Finally, once you have begun to quiet, you pull back from him, leaning against the tree behind you once more, hiccupping. "I'm so...sor—" You shake your head. "Please, forgive me, Lord Cregan. I—"

He takes your hand in his bare one. "There is nothing to forgive."

Your lower lip trembles.

He steps closer, his body-heat radiating onto you against the cold. "Will you not tell me, Y/N?"

It seems a strange dichotomy to you: him.

Last night, with Jace—much like your first night here—he had talked history and fighting and weapons and about the Wall; the grit of the North, which he seems to completely embody. And then his being relentless with a sword in his hand—one always at his side. And there is the way he carries himself: with surety and steel.

But with you he is...gentle. Has been so many times now.

"Watching the two of you, it initially filled me with joy to see: you both getting on so easily. And so soon. And then I realized..."

You look up, meeting his eyes and he cups your cheek, brushing hot tears away with the pad of his thumb, before settling his grip upon your forearm.

You continue. "You were not play-fighting. It's training for war. One that I..."

You trail off for just a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before bursting into another fit of hysterics. "I believe is truly inevitable. If it were not so, we would not be here now, with you, seeking the might of your realm to back my mother. Her...cause. I thought I had accepted it—that which looms before us, but seeing Jace with a sword. Oh Gods, I cannot lose them."

His jaw feathers as he watches you struggle to hold yourself together. You are far too gentle a creature to bear witness to this pending doom.

"She told me once, something which her father—my grandsire—told her at my age; younger, even."

You are quiet for a moment, snow falling softly around the two of you, the sound of a bird flapping its wings in flight.

"When dragons go to war, everything burns."

You meet his eyes again. "Never, at any point in our history, have so many dragons been alive at once. Even at that, my uncle, Daemon, has a score of eggs incubating at Dragonstone. Not that they will be full-grown for some time, if they do indeed hatch."

You let out a shuddering breath. "I...I am afraid."

He rubs soothing circles against your sleeved arm with his thumb, grasping for the right words to give you, which may provide some sense of security, but he, most unfortunately, has none.

He has failed you more than once in that: being unable to comfort you from your troubles.

"I don't want my family to die," you whisper, fresh tears slipping down your face. "Any of them."

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, taking each of your hands within his own, holding them up to his lips as he blows warm air onto them, before clasping them firmly between his large hands.

"I wish I had words of wisdom—assurance—to offer you. It grieves me to see you like this, Princess. But in times like these, sometimes we must admit hard truths to ourselves." He's quiet for a moment. "I think you and I both know what those truths to be. That if an agreement—capitulation—is not soon reached, I fear your mother's warning may yet come to fruition."

You sniffle. "Coming here felt—feels—like such an escape. It is as if I'm in another world now. Far from politics and scheming and treachery. Like none of it—or they—can touch me in this place."

You close your eyes.

"Do you want to know the horrible truth?" You question quietly.

"Tell me. Please."

You swallow thickly. "I don't want to go home."

He pulls back then and you stare up at him, ashamed of yourself.

"Might I ask why?" He probes.

You shrug slightly. "I..." You pause.

You don't open up like this. Not to anyone. It's not that you don't have someone to do so with. You do. But it would hurt them to hear. Would break your mother's heart to.

Mama.

So, you have kept it locked away inside all this time. But here, before the Gods—his Gods—if they are listening, you feel it a safe place.

Feel that he is.

"I have always felt othered. Out-of-step. Out-of-place. Within my own life..."

You sigh. "King's Landing was...the sun and the warm water was pleasant enough. And, at night, when I felt lonely, all I had to do was stand on my balcony, and listen, to know that I wasn't. The noise could be too much at times, but at others it served to console me.

"And then we left for Dragonstone, and I had never felt so alienated. Living on an island, away from everyone—everything—I had ever known, and so soon after losing—"

You stop. You know the truth. You always have. You and Jace and Luke had discussed it late one night in your twin's room; that most unspeakable secret which everyone seemed to talk about anyway.

It had lost Vaemond his head to do so, per Daemon.

"Go on," he encourages softly.

You look at him, resolving to finally acknowledge it. You will not shove him aside. He had doted on you. Loved you so.

You could still remember it, even now—that night when you could've been no more than five-years-old, and drifting off to sleep in his broad arms when he had whispered it: 'I love you, my little girl, with all that I am'.

And you had loved him. Laenor as well. And then you had lost them both, and in such quick succession of each other. To fire, no less.

No wonder you had never desired a dragon of your own.

It's because fire takes—kills and destroys and burns away all that remains. Until all that is left is charred bone and ashes and nothing. And it will do it again, soon enough.

Your chin wobbles. "My father, Ser Harwin. And then Laenor..."

You shake your head, and you find that he does not react to you saying it, which you are glad for.

"I had never felt so alone. I had my siblings, but even at that: I was the only girl. And Daemon... I have never considered him a father. I've never understood why my mother married him. He is...selfish. Dangerous and self-righteous."

He straightens. He'd heard rumors of him: the Rogue Prince. Taken his own niece to wife, immediately after the death of his first. He cannot imagine moving past it so quickly; such a loss.

"I feel as if I walk between two worlds, and that neither will ever truly have me. I do not feel high-born. Do not entirely want to be, either. It is why I don't like being called 'Princess'. Do not like others bowing and scraping before me, who I refuse to see as lesser-than. Who I instead wish I can be friends with.

"But I know I am not like them, either. Because they will never see me as as much. How could they? How can I ever relate to their hardships of poverty and constant struggle, when I have never wanted for anything except for perhaps...companionship? Or a sense of belonging."

You gently remove your hands from his own, tucking them beneath your cloak. "But when we arrived here—stood outside your castle—I felt something I never had before."

"What was it?" He whispers.

"Home." Your eyes shimmer with tears.

His heart jumps to hear you say such a thing.

"This place feels like what I imagine home is meant to feel like. And to know that in a fortnight, perhaps a little more time, a little less, that I will have to leave it behind, and mayhaps never see it again..."

You look to the side of you where a white rabbit hops along quietly, sniffing the snow beneath its padded feet. "I must sound ridiculous. To feel so attached to it when I've only just arrived. I know that I do not belong here—"

"I do not believe that," he states firmly, in a rasping voice.

Your brows furrow. How can he not? You are an outsider if there ever was one.

He continues. "I have questioned it: destiny. If it does exist, or if our lives are simply a series of choices we are forced to make day-by-day. But then I think of the Gods. The beauty of our world. The mysteries. The stories and legends." He looks at you. "How can I not, then? You say my home also feels like home to you?"

You nod gently.

"Perhaps our destiny is something that chooses us, then, and not the other way around. At least for some. Others... We are forced to carve our own path. But, for those that remain, unable to see a way forward—mayhaps they have a helping hand guiding them closer. Until they finally find whatever it is that has been waiting for them. And that hand leaves—them able to then forge ahead on their own, the path before them lain plainly."

You think for a moment, trying to understand what he might mean. “Are you saying that you believe Winterfell to be my destiny?”

He stares down at you. “Did you not feel as much when that feeling of home overcame you when standing outside our walls? Something drove you to come here, Y/N. You did tell me it had been a late decision. But one you made, nevertheless.”

You had heard once that Northerners were a superstitious lot. But, at the same time, you cannot deny the things he says.

He notes your silence. “Do you believe in the Gods?”

You look at him from under your lashes. “Which ones?” You ask with a small smile.

“Any,” he says, stepping round the heart tree, looking upon the face that was carved into it so many centuries ago.

You come to stand beside him. “I was raised in the light of the Seven.”

He looks to you, while your eyes remain firmly fixed on the tree before you.

“But I don’t…know that I feel they’ve ever listened to me. I believe in them, yes. I just don’t really pray to them anymore. I can’t even remember when it was that I stopped now. I think not long after Harwin…”

You look to him with worried eyes. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? What I’ve said about my true paternity or—”

He shakes his head. “No worries on that account, Y/N. I would never betray your trust. I consider it a gift—a privilege, even—you sharing such hard truths with me.”

And he does. You have done it time and again, much to his appreciation. He only wishes for it to continue. For you not to close yourself away from him instead.

“Why did you ask? About whether I believe?”

He nods toward the tree. “I do. Believe. Pray. When I am able.”

He turns fully toward you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, then settling his arms behind him. “Perhaps you should speak to them. If your New Gods did not listen… I wonder if the Old may not be more agreeable.”

You step toward it, considering. “How do I—”

“Just speak to them. As you have me. Nothing else is necessary. No crystals or censers or choosing this one or that to hear you. Tell them what is within your heart, your soul. I cannot promise that things will change, much more for the better, but I always feel as if a load has been lightened after I have confided in them.”

You sit upon the stone bench positioned a foot or so away, looking up at the blood-red leaves swaying above you, a cool winter wind blowing them to and fro.

You tighten your cloak around you then, which Cregan takes note of.

You tuck your chin in close to your chest, to only be met a moment later with the feel of a very heavy and long fur-lined cloak—already warm from his body heat—being carefully draped over your shoulders.

You look up to him. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“What sort of man would I be if I let you sit there and shiver against the cold while I stay warm? It grieves me to think of you catching a chill while under my protection. Even if it would, mayhaps, keep you in my company longer.”

You flush.

“Besides, I have many others,” he states with a smile.

You wrap it further around you, until only your head is visible and his lip twitches at the sight. Of you, in a way, covered in him.

You smile sheepishly, your cheeks warming, along with the rest of you as you nervously wring your hands beneath the black cloak, which smells of him; of winter.. “Thank you, Cregan.”

Hearing his name uttered from your lips like this—and here—moves something within him. Sends his blood racing in his veins.

“Shall I leave you, then?” He asks, cocking his head slightly to the side.

You nod once. “I will at least try.”

He goes to step away. “I hope, truly, that they listen.”

It’s not quite an hour later when you finally rise from your seat. You had felt foolish at first—talking to a tree—but once you began to pour your heart out, there had been no stopping it.

You had told the Old Gods everything.

Had told them about your true father, and your step, Laenor. You prayed for your brothers, to keep them safe from whatever is to come. And if they do die…make it swift. Painless. You prayed for your mother, and for her to regain her throne with minimal bloodshed. Prayed even for the Hightowers and Alicent’s children, because they were still your family.

And then you prayed for the Realm. That, if and when lives are lost—it makes you sick to even think of it—to let it not be in vain. Let their bodies not rot on battlefields, never to return home, or their corpses strung up on tree branches, to be used as examples. Let them be buried with dignity.

Let families not go hungry, or suffer from illness and disease. Let horses not fall from starvation due to rationing. Let the land not be razed and destroyed, homes burned, shops never to reopen, leaving many without means to earn money, or a way to purchase provisions to survive off of.

The more you thought of war, the worse off you felt. Until you began to cry again. So much so that you eventually exhausted yourself and felt sick.

You had finally risen, thanking them for listening—if they indeed had, before heading out of the Godswood, back into the courtyard and heading into the castle once more to lie down for awhile.

You had knocked on Cregan's door, so as to return his cloak, to no avail.

So you had taken it with you into your own, deeming that you would return it to its rightful owner that evening instead.

You hung it carefully upon a brass hook on the wall, then stopped mid-turn when you caught sight of a present laid upon your bed, concealed in brown wrapping paper.

You gently pull at the twine tied round it, then smooth the paper back to reveal a beautiful heavy black cloak, lined with incredibly soft fur. Set atop it, a small note: To keep you warm. —Cregan

It is only once you have tried it on and are looking at yourself in a floor-length mirror that you notice the small embroidered direwolf above your left breast.

You smile warmly at the sight, your heart squeezing at his kind gesture.

You much look forward to seeing him again that night.

And you then wonder...if he feels the same.

#fic: hotd (cregan stark x reader)#cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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To please, to serve (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x niece • wife female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, oral sex, smut, fingering, the angst, degradation, role play, dirty talk ]

[ description: During a meeting of the Small Council, Aemond learns that his wife is feeling unwell. Fearing that these are symptoms of another pregnancy, he abandons his daily routine and visits her in their chamber. To his surprise, he does not find her there, but someone else. Sexual tension, dark, loving, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: The events of this oneshot are part of the canon of The Fall from the Heavens series and feature the same characters. This oneshot takes place several years after the events of that storyline and can be read as a standalone story. I just came up with this idea and decided that's it, I have to write it. Ehhhhh.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Where is the Queen Regent?" He asked impatiently, surprised that, although it was not her custom, she was late for the Small Council meeting. One of the guards bowed his head and shifted from foot to foot.

"The Queen Regent requests that the meeting be held without her today, as she has been feeling unwell, Your Grace." He said.

He pressed his lips together at his words, driving his fingernail into the skin of his second finger at the thought that his wife was perhaps expecting his child again.

Seventh, he thought in disbelief, staring dully ahead.

That would be the seventh.

As many as she had promised him.

And what would happen next?

He tried to focus on the meeting and what each person was saying, however, he knew that he was involuntarily pushing for it to end as soon as possible.

Once everything was settled, he approached the Grand Maester, wanting to know what the situation was.

"Do you know anything about my wife's condition?" He asked coolly, frustrated by the possibility that he might have withheld such important information from him for some reason.

The man shook his head.

"No, Your Grace. I am surprised myself. The Queen Regent has not summoned me, so it is possible that her frail condition is due to some other cause." He said, making him feel discomfort in his stomach.

Although he always took part in sparring after the meeting, wishing to remain as skilled and agile in sword fight as he had been in all the years he had been king by his wife's side, this time he headed for their chamber.

When he stepped inside, he did not see her where he expected her to be, which was in their bed. He looked around the room, tense, the servant standing next to him bowed humbly.

"Where is my wife?" He asked, approaching the window overlooking the courtyard, thinking he might perhaps catch a glimpse of her walking between the cloisters.

"The Queen has left, Your Grace." The girl answered him. He furrowed his brow as her voice seemed familiar to him, but he wasn't sure why.

"Where to?" He asked, walking over to his desk to pour himself some wine and quench his thirst.

"She didn't say, Your Grace."

"You may leave." He replied, taking a few deep sips from his goblet deciding that she was probably hiding in the library for some reason. He set his goblet aside, impatient to hear that the girl had not moved from her place.

"Did I express myself unclearly?" He asked, turning to face her and froze, unsure if he had seen correctly or if he was slowly beginning to slip into madness from exhaustion.

The girl standing on the other side of his chamber looked at him before their gazes met, however, she lowered her eyes meekly to the floor when she sensed his surprise and frustration.

She had his wife's face, his wife's figure, his wife's voice but she wasn't dressed like her – her hair was pinned up in a braid around her head, her attire simple, consisting of a long-sleeved red bottom garment and a linen top gown belted at the waist.

"What?" He asked more to himself than to her, looking at her with wide eye.

"The Queen is not here, Your Grace." She said, looking at him again, something in her gaze from which he felt heat in his lower abdomen.

Her gaze was bright, piercing, familiar, but terrified at the same time.

Was it possible that a woman so confusingly similar to his wife had served in the Red Keep?

He swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in his throat, so he reached for his cup again and took a sip from it, looking at her intently.

"Have you been serving here for long?"

"For a few days."

"Mmm."

Perhaps that's why she doesn't know all the rules of good manners yet, he thought.

"If I say you may leave, then you are expected to leave."

She lowered her gaze and did something that betrayed her: her hands entwined with each other as she began to play with her fingers in a gesture of discomfort that he knew all too well.

Fuck.

It was her.

"The whole kingdom speaks of the affection you have for her, Your Grace. About the fact that she has already given you six children, although she is still so young. Perhaps she should rest from this duty." She whispered, looking down at her hands, not daring to look at him.

He pressed his lips together, wondering if she was implying something.

Was she tired of him and carrying his offspring in her womb.

"I could have your head for this insolence." He said, intrigued by what she was trying to achieve, what her plan was.

"You could have something else. While she rests." She confessed finally, the gaze of her bright eyes surrounded by dark lashes lifted to him.

He felt a shudder at her words, at the realisation of what she was suggesting, what she was aiming for, and his cock expressed a desire to participate in her idea, pulsing greedily in his breeches.

"Indeed?" He murmured, raising his cup to his lips, sipping the remainder of the wine from it, not taking his eye off her with a mischievous look.

She did not reply, standing still, her lips parted in an accelerated breath betraying that she was aroused.

"Very well. Come here." He said, stepping around his desks and spreading out comfortably in his chair, looking up at her from below. He set his cup down on the table as she approached him slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Kneel." He ordered.

She swallowed loudly and obediently sat on her knees between his legs, not daring to look at his face. He licked his lower lip involuntarily as he undid the buckles of his tunic with his long fingers, only to immediately slide them down to the fabric of his breeches, untying them with an agile flick of his wrist.

"Don't delude yourself into thinking I'll treat you like my wife. You don't deserve it." He scoffed in a trembling voice, feeling the chill of the chamber envelope his swollen erection, leaking with desire. Her gaze lifted to his manhood as she nodded, moving closer, the look of her innocent eyes rising to his face in anticipation.

"Open." He said, grabbing the base of his swollen cock, directing the throbbing, pink, wet head of it to her face.

Her lips parted in an obedient gesture as she leaned forward, her hands clenched on her lap. He tilted his head back, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart as her puffy lips slid its tip into her warm interior, her tongue giving him one encouraging, gentle lick.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, clamping his free hand in her hair, forcing her to take it all the way in, the head of his manhood bumping against the back of her throat with her quiet moan of discomfort.

She knew him too well, knew what drove him mad, what touch and where drove him to the brink of insanity.

"– quiet – you wanted it yourself – now suck like a good girl –" He gasped, watching with a wide grin as the fullest part of his manhood disappeared again and again deep between her lips with the quiet clicks of her saliva.

He squeezed himself tighter at the base, trying to find a rhythm with her, involuntarily rolling his hips back and forth, each time making her almost choke, tears of exertion running down her face one after the other.

"– only my wife deserves to swallow my seed – maybe I should come on your face? – hm? – would you enjoy that? –" He sneered, and she shook her head quickly and cried out, looking up at him with big eyes full of tears, whimpering as he quickened his pace suddenly, disappearing again and again deep into her throat.

Her beautiful face was all rosy with exertion, droplets of sweat on her cheeks and forehead, unruly strands of her dark hair stuck to her skin.

So pretty.

"– no? – then how about your tits – show me your breasts –" He exhaled, sliding out from between her lips to avoid coming too soon, taking a surprising amount of pleasure from this unusual act of their marital intimacy.

His wife drew in a loud breath, wiping her cheeks wet with tears, and reached up to untie her dress at the back, blindly undoing it. She looked at him with a look he knew perfectly well when she finally slipped the bright and red material off, showing him one of his favourite parts of her body.

She was so fucking wet, he knew it.

"– go on – I didn't let you stop –" He said coldly, and she leaned over him again, taking his fat erection between her lips with such commitment that he groaned, biting his lower lip so hard that he could feel the blood under his tongue.

"– good girl – just like that – fucking serve your King –" He growled, clenching his fingers in her hair, allowing her small hand to caress what was not fitting deep in her throat imposing a fierce, aggressive pace on her. She cried out loudly, clearly not able to keep up with taking a breath, making him stop in half-motion.

"– too much? –" He mumbled, stepping out of his role for a moment, but she shook her head, looking at him with affection.

He stroked her hair, his fingers sliding down to her face, his thumb running over the hot, moist skin of her cheek – her murmur of satisfaction ran in vibration through his erection, making him pulse hard between her lips.

"– just a little more – your King is satisfied and about to come – hm? –" He cooed, and she nodded, letting him do what he wanted with her mouth, thrusting his long manhood into her again and again with the greedy, deep stabs of his hips.

The warmth of her mouth, her tongue that ran over the soft skin of his erection swollen from his veins, her lips that clamped again and again on the thick head of it made him close his eyes, losing the urge to pull it out of her.

"– I changed my – f-fuck – fuck, gods, swallow –" He gasped out, panting heavily with pleasure, tilting his head back, feeling his cock begin to throb all over in elation, his wife whimpered when suddenly his spend spilled deep down her throat.

He looked at her with dreamy eyes, breathing through his parted lips, stroking her head, listening to the quiet sound of swallowing.

"– that's it – easy – you did well –" He praised her, and she took a heavy breath as he finally let her go, sliding his erection out from between her sweet lips with a loud slap.

She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his thigh, embracing it with her arms, trying to calm down after what she had done. His fingers roamed through her hair, his gaze fixed on her full of curiosity.

"– come here –" He murmured.

She looked at him sleepily and lifted herself up on trembling legs, however, to her surprise, he didn't let her sit on top of him with her arms around him, but turned her so that she was resting her back against his chest.

They both sighed, and her legs spread involuntarily to the sides as his broad hand rolled up the material of her gown, exposing her thighs, slipping under her smallclothes. While there his fingers sank into her silky, leaking folds, the fingers of his other hand embraced her neck, making her moan softly, tilting her head back.

"– only my wife deserves to be fulfilled – so how will it be? –" He whispered in her ear, placing hot, loud, sticky kisses on her red, welted sweaty cheek – her hand involuntarily wrapped around his arm while the other reached back into his hair for balance.

"– please, my King –" She mumbled pleadingly.

"– tsk-tsk – not like that –" He gasped, teasing her little spongy bud with his fingertip, playing with it gently, his other fingers trailing over her throbbing, moist slit.

"– ah – gods – Aemond –" She sighed, bucking her hips to the rhythm of his strokes, his fingers clenching warningly around her neck.

"– call me right or I'll tease this little cunt all night long, but you won't experience fulfillment, sweet girl –" He said warningly and felt her swallow loudly under his fingers, his hand between her thighs all slick with her sticky wetness.

"– husband – please, husband, please, please, please – ah! –" She mewled, clenching her hand in his hair as his two fingers burst into her hot, fleshy interior, pressing the spot hidden between her muscles from which she could see stars, while his thumb teased her pearl from the outside in circular, gentle strokes.

"– good girl – fuck yourself with my fingers – only my wife can use me for her own pleasure –" He gasped, watching with satisfaction as with a cry of pleasure she fell apart in front of him, reaching her peak – his hand from her neck clamped down on her breast, all swollen with milk, feeling her weeping cunt squeeze his fingers again and again, sucking them inside.

His once again hard erection pushed against her buttocks, delighted by what he had just witnessed.

Her hands closed around his, making sure he didn't let go of either her hot, leaking womanhood or her soft, plump breast.

"– what unusual idea did you come up with, hm? – is that the reason for your non-attendance at the Small Council? –" He sneered, placing tender, lazy, sticky kisses on her neck and cheek.

"– I've been thinking about it for a while – what it would feel like – and have you ever had fantasies of doing this to a servant –" She muttered, breathing heavily through her mouth, looking at him curiously.

He snorted under his breath and shook his head, sighing contentedly, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with her.

"– I didn't feel the need for it until it turned out that you could be one – I'm afraid it's not a question of role but of your pretty face – those big eyes of yours –" He murmured, grabbing her chin, turning her head so that she could look at him. She giggled sweetly at his words, her eyes lit up with joy and warmth from which he felt heat in his chest, a feeling he only experienced in her presence.

He hummed under his breath, pressing his forehead against hers, smiling in a way that was meant only for her.

For his wife.

"– if you wish, we can satisfy each other in this way, if you need to rest for a time from bearing me children – you have given me as many as six –" He said softly, wanting her to know that her sacrifice for their lineage, for the kingdom and for him was precious to him, and he held his gratitude for her deep in his heart.

She blinked and smiled comfortingly at his words, her fingers running over his cheek.

"– since Daeron was born, the deliveries have become easier for me – they're shorter each time, I already know exactly what awaits me – I promised you one more, didn't I? –" She whispered, and he nodded.

"– and then? –"

"– hm? –"

"– when you give birth to our seventh child – what will happen after that? –" He asked, and she amazed him by bursting out laughing.

"– it will be surely followed by another – as long as my flower does not wither –" She said, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his hands around her breasts, not wanting her to get cold, thoughtful.

"– our children already think there are too many of them –" He sighed and heard her snort at his words, amused.

"– they will be able to speak on the matter when they become parents themselves –" She replied, looking up at him, placing her hands on his. He kissed her temple and nuzzled his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, imagining how many more children she would bear him.

"– let's take a bath, wife –"

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faeriichaii · 8 months

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hii, how are you? It’s me again. Could I request a Legolas x reader again? something funny and very fluff with a Legolas a little bit jealous because the hobbits stole all the reader’s attention, would be fun if she made them braids (feeling like a old sister taking care of them, not other intention i swear🙏), hope not to bother you and wish you a lovely dayy, thank u💗

Braiding Together ~ Legolas x Reader

A/N: Heyyy :) I'm fine and you?? I love it omg I really am a big fan of the little hobbits and I just want to hug them close and never let go 😔😔 I hope you have a nice day as well and enjoy the story <3 (I'm so sorry that it is like a lil short and that it kinda is bad djsifeh)

⇢ ˗ˏˋWarnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋWords: 910 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋRequest: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋMeleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You have always received compliments for your cute braids, so you decided to offer the hobbits to braid their hair. However, Legolas really doesn't understand, why you would do that.

You laughed softly at one of Pippins jokes, as he sat in front of you. Fingers nimbly combing through his wild hair. The hobbits have complimented your braids so so many times, so you decided to offer to braid each of their hair. All of them nodding in agreement and sitting down around you, almost building a wall, and waiting for their turn patiently. “Say (Y/N), do you redo your hair every day? Or do you keep some braids in more than just a day?” Pippin asked you, while his gaze was focused on the fire in front of him. “It depends. Sometimes my braids open up a little during the day, so I redo them the next morning. The only braids I never redo myself, are the ones Legolas does.” You said, while weaving the small strands of Pippins hair into a braid.

“Are they important to you?” Sam asked, as he intently watched your fingers. A small blush dusted your cheeks, as you thought about the night Legolas first braided your hair. You sat at a bonfire, much like this one, as he suddenly turned towards you and asked you if it would be okay to braid your hair. You remember being very surprised and overwhelmed, but in the end, you gave him your approval. Since then, it has been an almost daily occurrence for the both of you, to sit down somewhere secluded and start braiding each other’s hair. “Yes, they are very important to me.” You answer Sam with a gentle smile. Finishing the braid, you give Pippin your small pocket mirror, so he can take a look at the neat braid you have done. He turned around with a bright smile, until his eyes focused onto the something behind you. He quickly stood up, thanked you for the braid and left you alone with the others. Turning around confused, you raised an eyebrow as you spotted the elven prince. A scowl was present on his face.

“Meleth Nin, what are you doing?” He asked while looking at the three remaining hobbits around you. “I am braiding their hair.” Gesturing Sam to take the space in front of you, Legolas decided to join you on the log. “But… why are you braiding their hair?” Your eyebrows scrunched together at his question. “Well, they always compliment my braids and I thought I could braid their hair too. Plus, they look so adorable with their new hairstyles.” A hum left his lips, as he watched you brush through Sams hair gently. You felt the elven princes gaze on your fingers, as you parted the hair into the sections you needed. Taking a quick glance into his direction, you notice a confused expression on his face.

“My love, are you alright?” You asked, stopping your task at hand and turning a little towards him. He let out a little sigh. “I just am confused as to why you are braiding their hair. Elves tend to only braid their own hair or the hair of the person they court.” A gentle smile adored your lips, as you let go of Sams hair. “I apologize my love, I didn’t know. I just wanted to do it because they always look at me so sweetly when I do mine and so I wanted to offer them to braid their hair.” Legolas nodded understandingly, moving a little closer towards you. “You did this row wrong.” He pointed at the mistake you have made. “And this one just looks like a mess.” He pointed at another strand you have just finished. Rolling your eyes at him, you opened the braid again.

“Well, Mr. I-Can-Do-It-Better, how should I braid his hair?” A chuckle left Legolas’ lips, as he took your hands in his. “First off, you will start with this hand.” He shakes your right hand softly. “And with that hand you will grab a good amount of hair. Not too much though.” Guiding your right hand back to Sams head, you take a chunk of his hair. Apparently though, you had a little bit too much between your fingers, hence Legolas began to shake your hand once more. “Now you will part it into two sections and use your left hand...” He began to now shake your other hand. “…to pull a small strand from the right strand and pull it over it and under the left strand.” Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, trying to understand what he meant. He guided your hand around with his, until you finished a few rows together. A soft ‘ahh’ escaped your lips, as you finally understood the braid you were working on together with the elven prince. The both of you quickly finished the hairstyle and handed Sam your small mirror.

“Thank you so much (Y/N) and Legolas.” He said, before leaving you with Frodo and Merry. The struggle of brushing and braiding passed quickly, as you both finished off the last remaining two hobbits. A smile formed on your lips, as you watched each of them flaunter their new hairstyles. Legolas put his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. Leaning towards him, you gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for helping me my love.” “Of course, anything for you Meleth Nin.” Laying your head onto his shoulder, you both continued to watch the hobbits like proud parents, as they still sauntered around with cute little braids in their hair.

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1980shorrorfilm · 23 days

Text

sour times

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

btw to the requests in my inbox; i see u. i hear u. 🙏

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin.

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are.

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that.

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though.

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong.

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it.

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it.

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow.

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby.

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home.

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat.

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off.

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you.

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so.

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more?

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs.

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?”

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there.

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head.

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby.

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?”

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy.

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are.

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie.

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that.

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you.

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time.

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips.

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet.

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other.

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two.

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

#-🐈‍⬛#uhhhh *scratches back of neck*#this is heavily an abby fanfic but there is ellie x reader everywhere for those with the eyes to see #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby x reader #abby anderson x gn!reader #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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asharasasylum · 24 days

Text

Return to Me ♡ Aegon Targaryen x Reader

author's note: before you think this is stolen work, it’s not. If any of you recognise this, yes it is me, squirm honey. I’m sorry I left and just deleted all my blogs and I have now put an explanation up on my account. But please enjoy this reworked fic. warnings: non con. dub con. dark. violence. chained up reader. smut. 18+

Feather light kisses ran along the column of Aegon’s neck. Innocent and unsure as they brushed against his skin until they were trailing across his face. He knew these lips, soft and plush, tickling him as they pressed against him again and again. It was only when they finally reached his lips, that he got a real feel of them, catching them between his own as he leaned further in. It was short as you pulled yourself away with that sweet giggle of yours, making him sink further into his sleep filled bliss.

It was a dream. It always was.

You weren’t here. You hadn’t been home in five years. His sweet sister.

You laughed again, his name slipping past your tongue as your hand ran through his hair. He knew what you were trying to do but he knew if he allowed his eyes open, you’d disappear.

One more moment, he pleaded as he sank further into your touch.

But your voice grew louder, a croak at the back of your throat, and you gripped his hair, pulling at his fine platinum hair until strands tore from his scalp.

Aegon. Was it even you that called his name? He barely recognised the voice that flooded his ears now. Had he forgotten your voice in the same way he had forgotten your beautiful face.

Aegon.

He forced his eyes open, only to be met with the pale light of dawn that covered his room.

You weren’t here but his mother was.

“Mother?” Aegon pinched his brows together as he took the sight of her in.

Alicent bit at the skin around the nail of her thumb, standing by the window as she stared out at something.

“Mother?” He questioned her again.

She turned, releasing her thumb from her teeth as she gazed upon him. “I see you did not try to escape.”

He rubbed his eyes at that, refraining himself from rolling them. “Why are you here?” He sighed.

“We have visitors,” Alicent said, her tone sharpening like it did when she believed something to be of importance. “They’ll be welcomed on their arrival and will greet their King in the throne room.”

“Throne room,” Aegon mumbled in agreement.

“Where their King will be waiting.”

Aegon looked up again, gaze falling upon his mother’s hardened gaze. He simply nodded, covering himself with his sheets as he made a point to move. Only then she seemed pleased, leaving through the door, only for servants to take her place.

He was trying, no one could deny that.

In the years he had seen his father act as King, he had been far too sick to even sit upon the Iron Throne. He barely had any idea of how he was meant to act and in his foolishness, he had hoped he would never need to.

Each time he sat upon that throne, the cold eyes of his mother or grandsire staring up at him made him sink further into his seat. Eventually he’d find his attention drawn elsewhere, slipping into the dark spots in his mind.

Today was no different.

His mind elsewhere as the visitors were announced and footsteps poured through into the throne room. He wishes he didn’t hear them, thinking if he slipped into the darkest corners of his mind, the empty and quiet ones, he’d find himself free from here. An escape he so desperately craved. But his grandsire cleared his throat, bringing him back to the reality before him.

Aegon looked over at Otto, giving him a curt nod and trying to pay no mind to the glare he was shooting his way. Instead he brought his gaze forward, drawing in on the sea of green flooding through the doors. At first he didn’t pay close attention, eyes running along the many unrecognisable faces. It wasn’t until silver cut through the mass of green that his eyes met something he did recognise.

It was you.

Silver curls fell out of your braided hair, framing your face as you drew closer to him.

How could he forget such a face?

A day of activities, and then a dinner filled with lingering glances had been tearing Aegon apart. His skin itched in all those moments to reach out and touch you, to land his skin on top of yours even in the simplest of ways.

You were opposite him and Aegon couldn’t help but take in your face. The way you had aged gracefully over the five years, growing into your features. He squinted, taking in the sight of your lips pressed into a thin line, eager to know what you were thinking. Your gaze lifted for a second, flickering towards him and in the candle light he swore that your eyes seemed wet. You twisted your gaze elsewhere again, and he watched as you blew out a long breath.

Did you feel the way he felt? The heat that coursed through his body as he noticed how you filled out your dress.

He took another sip of his wine, trying to bury these thoughts that seeped into his brain as he sat across from you.

It wasn’t until in the hours of the night that he managed to get a moment alone with you. He managed to catch up to you returning to your chambers, snatching you away for a moment and pulling you into a dark corner of the hallway.

His hand clamped itself around your mouth as you tried to scream, muffling any noise that fell from your lips as he hushed you. You calmed once you noticed it was him but still frowned when he took his hand from your mouth.

You spoke first, only he wasn’t met with your voice as it left your lips.

“You reek of wine,” you hissed at him, grimacing as you turned your face away.

It was your mother’s voice.

He had parted his lips but the words got caught in his throat as he tried to speak. But he couldn’t, taken back by the sudden disdain you had for him.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” You questioned, giving him a pointed glare. “To your family? The embarrassment you cause us.”

He retracted from you, blinking away fresh tears. This wasn’t you. Not the woman who had been his sole comfort growing up. The only person that understood his pain. His hand reached out towards you, hovering over your cheek as he whispered your name.

“The hour is late,” you told him, stepping away from him. “I bid you goodnight, brother.”

That night your voice didn’t sing to him in his dreams, nor did his lips find yours. Instead the mere presence of you a few steps away ate away at him, till the very thought of you being so close gnawed at his entire being. He wanted to act on it, to drag you from your chamber and into his. The very thought had him drowning himself in his cups, battling the urge to have you laid bare on his bed.

He couldn’t do that to you. Not to you.

Days turned into weeks and the thoughts that seemed to eat away at him had been easier to ignore when he had duties to fulfil.

It was only days after his son's death did those thoughts seem to return to him again.

He didn’t want you. He needed you.

He needed your delicate hands to cup his cheeks and your nails to drag themselves across his scalp. A moment with his head in your lap would be enough comfort to stop the agonising hollowness that sat inside of him from screaming. It would feed him, nourish him for days until he’d seek you out again.

But you were nowhere to be found.

Instead he had found barrels of wine and the streets of silk, something that always promised to be there. It wasn’t appetising, barely touching the sides as he drowned himself in over indulgence in the hope to find comfort there. However, it sedated him for a few hours though, finding himself inebriated to the point where his mind was no longer his own.

Aegon stumbled upon you in the halls of the Red Keep, body working against him as it basically flung itself your way. It was as if he forgot the bitter woman you had become, his mind thinking you were still that sweet girl he had grown up with.

“Your Grace,” you greeted, stopping in your tracks at the sight of him and his men.

He practically collapsed onto you and even though you slipped backwards, you managed to catch him. He should be embarrassed but he couldn’t find it in himself, only wrapping his hands around your upper arms as he gripped onto you for support. He barely noticed how his weight threatened to pull you down onto the floor.

You grimaced again, the way you did days ago as you got a whiff of him and something in him grew cold at that. That hollow space inside of him grew wider as it screamed at him to be fed.

“Don’t,” he slurred, tightening his grip around you as he continued to look at you.

You tried to hide your wince with a glare as you held his gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his voice was clearer as he hissed.

“How can I not?” You snapped back at him, lips cruelly snarling at him. “When you debase yourself like this. When you seem to be hell bent on ruining yourself and this family.”

Your words ran like ice through his skin and he found himself fighting between shoving you down onto the floor and yanking you closer.

“Why do you do this?” You questioned him and for a moment he swore your eyes softened, voice almost pleading.

“I am King,” He simply stated, his lips twisting into a crooked grin. “You should watch how you talk to your King, sister.”

“I think I should return to my rooms.” You snatched your arms from him, allowing him to stumble forward. “Your grace.”

Aegon caught your wrist again before you could fully twist away from him, yanking you right back. This time your bodies were pressed together, if one were to make a move the other would fall along with them.

He swore your eyes were heavy with tears even with the façade of anger and hatred you were trying to hold.

The Kingsguard behind you made a step to move but with Aegon’s free hand and vicious glare he stopped him.

“You are sworn to me,” Aegon shouted, voice echoing through the empty halls. “Think wisely of your next steps towards your King.”

“Aegon,” you whispered, frightful.

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you looked up at him.

He had seen that look a hundred times, the terrified gaze that everyone bestowed upon him. One he had hoped to never find upon your face.

“You’re right. We should all return to our rooms tonight,” he said, nodding.

You nodded with him, swallowing as he let you go. You really believed he was being serious, that he was done with you, he could almost laugh.

“I think I should pay my wife a visit tonight.” He stepped away from you, only for you to catch him by his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel,” you said to him, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You clearly don’t know me at all.” He grinned wickedly at you. “Do you, sister?”

“I grieve with you. I really do,” you told him, your tone became vicious and cruel, matching his. “But as King, I wished you’d bare this better.”

You left him with that, not taking a moment to stop as you stormed away.

Aegon wasn’t sure how he got you there. His mind hazed from the abundance of wine he’d consumed. But it couldn’t have been that clouded, the chains wrapped around your wrist hadn’t stirred your sleeping form. You were completely oblivious to being shackled to your bed. Unaware of how vulnerable you were as he stood at the edge of your bed, unable to do anything but watch you.

You seemed innocent like that, lips formed into a soft pout and your platinum curls free as they partially shaded your face. It reminded him back to when you had been close, the sibling he genuinely found himself drawn to. Bonded through the trauma from the neglect and cruelty of your parents, never knowing affection unless it was in one another’s arms. Yet in your place now was an imposter, a demon that had invaded your body and taken control.

He needed it gone and there was only one way he would be sure to do it. Thick tears ran down his eyes as he ripped his gaze from you, the thoughts of what he had to do to you consuming his mind. The hollowness inside him that desired to be filled believed you deserved it to be subjected to any cruel torment he desired to give you.

But there was also that thought in the back of his mind, the burning memories cursing him of a boy weeping for you.

You were promised to him before he had been forced upon Helaena, you were the sister that had been made for him. Your sole purpose was to be his. Your lips meant to soothe him in his sleepless nights, your presence to shield him from your parents scornful eyes and your womb to carry his children. The Gods were cruel, and his mother worse when a marriage prospect had been given to you, one that would have the soldiers of Highgarden backing his corner. Which left you being sent to Oldtown and all your duties being passed onto your younger sister.

Luckily for him you hadn’t been married yet and he wondered if a proposal would still be considered with your stomach swollen with his seed.

The tightness in his breeches grew at the thought, the heat no longer simmering but a burning desire as he became desperate to touch you. Like he’d die if he didn’t.

You didn’t stir when he crawled on top of you. He was careful though, spreading his weight out, not allowing the bed to dip under it.

He was gentle- too kind towards you -as he cupped your face.

He wanted to slap you, to mark your subtle skin with his bare hands and the rings that adorned his fingers.

Even in the dark shadows of your room he could make out your face, a rage and sadness filling him as he thought back to all the days before. He collapsed onto you, turning into a sobbing mess as he nestled his head in the crease of your neck, tears pooling here.

It must have been what woke you, not his trembling hands groping at you through your sheer nightgown or his body hovering over yours, but his tears gracing your skin.

You didn’t even open your eyes before you breathed his name, knowing it was him.

“Sister,” he sniffed, pulling himself together as he let out a harsh breath across your face.

“Aegon,” you whispered, eyes fluttering open.

It was dark in the room but the light of the morning sun was starting to peek through, just allowing him enough light to gaze upon you.

Your voice grew worried, goosebumps covering your skin as you realised the position of his hands. “Aegon, what are-”

He doesn’t want to hear what you have to say. He doesn’t care for it. So he finds himself burying your words with his lips, crashing his down against yours.

You tried to pull away, only to notice your bound hands as the metal clanked against the wooden bedframe. The realisation of your situation had you parting your lips to speak again, only allowing Aegon to take advantage of your open mouth, sinking his tongue inside.

Aegon enjoyed the way you squirmed against him, your body fighting to be free from him, only to find yourself caged in by him. He laughed into your lips at the way the heels of your feet dug into your mattress, pushing yourself away, permitting him to sink further between your hips.

He was sure you could feel it, the way his hardened member pressed up against you and to make sure of it, he pressed himself harder against you, angling himself right against your bare cunt, only his breeches separating you.

When you finally managed to yank your head free, twisting it to the side, you were breathless, heaving to find the air to speak.

“You can’t do this,” you cried, tears of your own covering your cheeks. “Aegon, please.”

He didn’t care for your pleading voice, and to show it to you, he grabbed your face with his hand. His fingers gripped your jaw, snapping your head back to him as placed his lips back on yours once more.

Any words of yours were lost on his tongue as he fought to steal your very breath from your body. He couldn’t help himself, teeth nipping at your lips, going between biting at you to clashing your teeth with his.

His kisses were hungry, full of years of longing and yearning for you. They were also full of anger that burned in his veins, one that came from the tortured soul you had moulded him into, regarding him with the same cruelty your mother had given him.

He didn’t need to breathe, the air from your lungs that he took from you was enough to feed him for a lifetime. He was sure of it.

But he still let your lips go, slipping them further down as he attached them to your neck.

You gasped for air once your lips were freed from him. Only for your body to be subjected to them instead.

“Aegon,” It seems like it's the only thing you were able to say. Had he succeeded in consuming all your senses like you had his.

“You are mine,” he growled into your skin, teeth nipping at the bare skin of your chest. His hands were bruising as they gripped onto your sheer gown, tearing at the material without even meaning to. “Mine.”

He spoke those words into the subtle skin of your breasts, not even allowing him a moment to look upon them before he wrapped his mouth around one of your hardening buds.

Even he was shocked from the sound that left your throat at that, a deep moan breaking free as he sucked at it. He was greedy to hear more, his fingers finding the other bud as he pinched it. But there was no other reaction from your lips, even when he gently tugged on it.

It was only when he detached himself, able to look upon your face, did he see why. You were biting down harshly on your swollen lips, drawing blood that dripped down your chin.

Aegon was eager to clean it up, his tongue licking up to catch every bit of it before slipping back into your mouth. This kiss was gentler, short as he was quick to press his forehead against yours.

“I am the only one that is allowed to make you bleed,” he told you, before he lifted himself from your body.

You were a sight below him, nightgown torn down the middle from his tight grip, revealing your naked flesh underneath. He should have done this the day you arrived but it's better late than never.

You called out his name again, eyes widening as he ripped at his tunic and the ties of his breeches. Until they were on a pile on the floor and he was left bare before you.

“Stop,” you demanded of him, voice strained in your throat. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do this,” he seethed at your resistance, pressing his body down on yours. “There is no one that could stop me.”

“Mother-”

He chuckled wickedly, pressing his hardened member up against you. “She is the dowager Queen. It is me that holds the power of the crown now.”

You don’t say anything, you only let out a raspy breath as he positions himself against you.

Aegon grins wider as he finds wetness there, sliding his tip up and down as he spreads the slick over your folds. But the amusement falls from his face when he presses his head against yours again, unable to shake the way you stare at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he commanded but his voice slips on a croak.

You stared up at him with wet eyes that matched his and your lips formed a pout as you swallowed. He knew this look, one that haunted his every waking and sleeping moment in the first year you departed from him.

“Don’t,” He warned.

“I can’t.” Your lips trembled as you whispered to him.

Aegon forced himself inside in one full thrust, your whole body becoming rigid and your face scrunching in pain.

“It hurts,” you cried, unable to do anything but tense up.

“Good,” Aegon said and he meant it.

He was slow as he moved out of you and back into you, torturously slow. It was punishment, he wanted you to feel every part of him, every ridge and edge as he took up space in your heavenly walls.

He’d be satisfied in your pain as he took his pleasure. It’d teach you your place, always one with him.

But as you sobbed underneath him, he felt guilt seeping in and he was quick to shove it down as he pressed his lips on top of yours. He didn’t manage to muffle your cries, he didn’t have it in him. They will be a reminder, he told himself. For what he wasn’t sure.

His lips remained on top of yours as he thrusted himself inside your walls, only they barely grazed yours. It was like they teased you, sinking down every so often in time to catch every gasp and cry that fell from your mouth. Until he was sure that all he could hear was your ragged breaths and sweet moans.

“There she is,” he groaned, finally finding comfort in you as hips picked up in pace. “You’ve finally returned to me, sister.”

“You can’t do this,” you whimpered, eyes sinking bank into your skull at the pleasure that you were clearly feeling.

“I’m going to breed you in this bed,” Aegon declared, carving his hips upwards as he pushed himself deeper. “I’ll make sure my seed takes until your stomach is swollen.” He latched onto your lips again, another short kiss, only this time he was sure it was reciprocated. “They’ll find us here, tied together like we always have been. Like we were always meant to be.”

HOTD - Aegon Targaryen. HOTD - Fem x Male character Insert Master List

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen smut #dark aegon targaryen smut

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achaoticeternal · 2 months

Text

a presentation

word count: 750 summary: finding aemond admiring the throne once more, you tell him of your wish to simply be his wife again a/n: just a quick drabble to get some writing going again. not proofread. this is based off the song the greatest by billie eilish

All my love and patience Unappreciated You said your heart was jaded You couldn't even break it

The mass of swords welded together to form the Iron Throne loomed over the Throne Room. Its' magnificence was equally spectacular yet terrifying. An item that represented unity and obedience melded together by fire and death.

It was a seat many had craved over time. Yet she saw the jagged edges that had nicked King Viserys, then Aegon... and soon Aemond would be subjected to it. She had dreamed of it only nights prior.

Her husband ascends the Throne before a mass of nobles and common folk alike. A wolfish smile invades the faces of those surrounding them. Yet when he took his seat with the Conqueror's crown high on his silken hair, an undulled sword from the arm of the chair would slice his palm open. The princess had felt it an omen, an even darker one after Meleys had been carted through the street. The dream was the only thing to replay in her mind as she approached where Aemond now stood. His eyes flickered our the steel of swords stuck together permanently. She always sensed his hunger for power and prayed that his thirst did not come at the cost of blood or their marriage. But the gods paid little favor to them. "It is late," She called out to him, "We should be sleeping." Aemond hummed, acknowledging her comment. He cocked his head to the side, not quite looking at her as his eye remained fixated on the Throne, "We shall be standing up there tomorrow."

The princess swallowed, only to take another step forward as she responded, "You. You will be up there tomorrow. I will be perched next to your mother or Helaena. Either hearing prayers for Aegon's ailments or your ascension." A small, playful smirk painted his lips, "I'm sure I could order a seat to be placed near my feet. So that I may present to the court all my prizes: the Throne, the Crown, the perfect Wife."

Her lips tugged downward, disgust lining her stomach, "Will you dress me and braid my hair too? Paint my face to make my skill look porcelain?"

The Prince Regent finally turned to face her, "Do not use such a tone with me, wife. You have nothing to complain about as I have built you a perfect life." The air between them went stagnant as her eyes remained fixed on them. You face betrayed nothing of what you felt which shocked your husband. He had always been able to read you so plainly, it was something he even enjoyed in your relationship.

"A perfect life?" The princess repeated her words, "Will you put me in a glass display and title it 'A Perfect Life?'?

Aemond's jaw tightened and he took a great step toward her, "I have proven myself to be the greatest Targaryen since Maegor himself and yet you look at me like a villain. This will make people see. This will make people fear me and regret their spineless actions. Now they have no choice but to love and respect their new King."

"And yet I did all of that when you were just Aemond," She barked back at him, her own hurt and anger slipping through, "I respected you, I listened to you, I loved you... for just being a prince- no, just being a boy." "Wife, I-" He attempted to interject.

"I am not finished," The princess stopped him, "I have played the part of your wife, perfectly. I provided you with love, comfort, hospitality, my spirit, my body. I never asked for you to give more of yourself than you could because I knew what a fragile heart you keep locked away. But I am not some pet or doll to be displayed as another prize of your ambition. I am your wife, and you could at least let me enjoy that duty. I only ever wanted to show you love."

At her speech, Aemond had fallen silent. His hands rested behind hs back, silently fidgeting with his leather cuffs. All was still.

"It is late," Aemond finally spoke, "You should get some rest. I will join you in our chambers when I have wrapped up my duties for the evening."

"Very well," The princess swallowed back her pain, once more feeling powerless. She turned on her heels and exited.

I shouldn't have to say it You could've been the greatest

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #prince aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #prince aegon targaryen #prince regent aemond #hotd season 2 #aemond targaryen angst #angst #aegon ii targaryen #drabble

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theaawalker · 10 months

Text

I Promise [Finnick Odair x Reader]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Song Inspo: About You Now by Miranda Cosgrove Word Count: 829 Series: 1 | 2 | ? Summary: a day of fishing brings reminiscence for you and Finnick. District 4 never felt like home, but you've always had each other. Finnick has his soul mark, as do you, but that doesn't change anything. You know he'll find someone better, but nothing is promised in District 4. Warnings: none Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

You loved fishing with Finnick. He was so good at it and you were very impressed. You also didn’t mind diving into the water as deep as you could to catch his eye.

It was like any other day, Finnick would cast out the nets and spear what he could and you would dive in to retrieve the nets. You had been doing this since you were kids and this was the first time Finnick wasn’t wearing a shirt. So let’s just say you were a little more distracted than usual.

As he pulled back his trident you watched his back muscles and noticed something. On his shoulder was a seashell tattoo. But this wasn’t any ordinary tattoo. It was a soul mark.

You looked down at your wrist and pulled your shell bracelets off to reveal a seashell soul mark identical to Finnick’s. He was your soul mate.

“What’s wrong?” He called to you. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You said shaking your head. “I didn’t know you had a soul mark”

He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Do you have one?” You shook your head and he shrugged. “It’s too bad, I haven’t found her yet”

“Yeah, what a shame.” You sighed and turned to the setting sun. “Listen, we have to finish up.” You said, running and diving into the water.

You loved Finnick, but he deserved better. He was amazing and you were, well, you. He didn’t know you were his soul mate and it’s very possible for a soul mark to disappear when circumstances change. There had to be someone better to be his soul mate and that is what you would hold out for.

As you swam to the surface you were met by Finnick’s sea blue eyes staring back at you. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close.

“My little fish was underwater for a very long time. Are you ok?” He asked concerned.

“Yeah” You nodded pushing yourself away from him. “I have to go” You said swimming to shore.

After the next few months despite your best efforts you fell more and more in love with Finnick everyday. You tried to stay away from him but it was almost impossible. Oddly enough you thought that maybe Finnick was in love with you too.

You were fishing one day again when Finnick spoke up. “You know I don’t think this soul mate stuff is true. I mean how can a mark on my body that matches someone else mean I love them. What if I already love someone else”

You couldn’t tell if you were upset or relieved so you nodded. “Well I don’t have to worry about it”

“I just wish I wasn’t carrying this on my back” He paused. “Get it?”

“Ha, ha” You said splashing him with water.

“Oh, you want to do that do you?” He said charging at you and knocking you backwards and into the water with him on top of you and your back against the sandy bottom.

When you both came to the surface you laughed but Finnick’s face turned serious.

“Are you nervous for the reaping next week?” He asked, breaking the happy moment.

“I don’t know.” You said shrugging. “I always wonder what are the odds.”

He nodded and looked off into the distance. “Yeah... I suppose.”

“Come on.” You said pulling him up. “It’s almost dark”

The next week went by and Finnick seemed distant. He was really worried about the reaping. You weren’t sure if he was right to be, but today would be the day to find out.

You dressed in your best blue dress and braided your hair back in a single fishtail braid. Sadly, you couldn’t meet up with Finnick before, but you would see him after. You hoped.

After you were all lined up in the square that’s when your nerves finally hit. You fidgeted with your dress and tried to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of Finnick. To your despair he was nowhere to be found.

As they drew the girl’s name you breathed a sign of relief when it wasn’t you. When they got to the boys you crossed your fingers it wasn’t Finnick.

“For the boys!" The woman called out. “Finnick Odair!”

“No...” You whispered. You watched in horror as Finnick walked up to the stage. “No!” You said running up after him the guards in quick pursuit. You grabbed his hand and gave him a hug. That was all you had time for before the guards were tearing you apart.

Finnick still had your arm and through all the grabbing and pulling your sleeve pulled up revealing your soul mark. Finnick saw it immediately. “I knew it was you. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked desperately.

“I’m sorry.” You said as you were finally pulled away.

“I will come back to you!” He yelled as he was dragged into the justice building. “I promise!”

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Hear me out, mild but super passionate after sex where aemond lets reader braid his hair 😩 while keeping her on his lap (her straddling him), caressing her body, holding her for dear life and softly kissing every inch of skin he can reach… just please I could die for thisss (specially if you make him use valyrian here and there), he deserves the purest, most desperate love

GOD I had to address this one real quick good lord over here fanning myself! This is a shorter drabble, but I plan on revisiting very often in future fics.

Aemond x female!reader | Smut leading to fluff...leading back to smut I got carried away | post-coital bliss | Breeding kink?

"Aemond!" His name spilled from your lips, as it had many times during the course of that warm night. You came undone around him as he thrusted erratically up into your heated core, spilling his warm seed deep inside you. Your hands pressed against his chest, Aemond gripping your hips so tight you expected marks would show the next day. You straddled him, milking his cock as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, staring up at you, his silver hair splayed on the pillow. It was one of those rare, vulnerable moments he allowed you to be on top. With a shift, and his arms coming to hold you against him, Aemond sat up, so your chests brushed, his member still deep within you. He pressed a searing kiss to your lips. "Issa jorrāelagon, you were wonderful."

You took a lock of his hair in your fingers, pulling it over his shoulder as you began to braid. "I'm a natural at dragon riding."

Aemond snorted, not seeming to mind your attention to his hair as he littered kisses along your neck and shoulder. His arms were tight around you, holding you against him as though he wished to mold your bodies together. You chuckled wickedly as you felt him growing hard inside you once more, his cock twitching as you moved your hips teasingly. Aemond groaned, sucking the skin at your throat, his teeth and tongue working to mark you as his.

You continued weaving small braids into his long hair. "You have the loveliest hair, Aemond. It's quite unfair."

"Hmm." Was your only reply, he was busy kissing each freckle you had within reach of his lips. You let out a breathy gasp of pleasure as he began rutting gently into you. With firm hands at your back, Aemond guided you backwards to lay beneath him as he continued moving againt you with languid strokes.

He grabbed your legs, encouraging you to hook them around his torso, opening you further to his administrations. Aemond placed sloppy kisses to your breasts, his pace quickening, angled just right to hit the most sensitive part of you. Already you felt your core tightening with anticipation, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open, uttering a blissful sound halfway between his name and a moan.

"Aemond, I don't think I can." The sensation was so overwhelming, you could hardly think much less breathe, your vision going blurry as he drove himself deeper into you.

"You can, again. As many times as I will have you." Aemond's hand encircled your throat gently, his violet eye hooded as he looked down at your enraptured face. His pace was punishing now, the sound of your heavy breathing accompanied by the lewd wetness of your cunt already full from his last climax. "Take me, Y/N. I want you to bear me a child." Aemond was close, you could tell by the way his words slurred as he spoke. Your walls tightened around him, the feeling of overstimulation giving way to blinding ecstasy as you reached your limit. "I want to see your belly swell with my seed."

Those low, rasped words sent you over the edge. You cried out his name, falling apart once again, taking Aemond with you as he pumped more of his cum deep inside your aching core. His movements stilled, hand moving to cup the swell of your breast, kneading your plump flesh. After savoring the feel of your heat around him several more moments, Aemond reluctantly pulled out, leaving you feeling oddly empty.

"My, we've made quite a mess." Aemond got off the bed, walking to the water basin, grabbing a washcloth and soap as well.

You smiled with ardent affection for the man, watching him clean your body with tender care. He finished, frowning at the bedspread. "Yes, these sheets are quite ruined." Setting the bowl of soapy water aside, Aemond joined you on the mattress once more. "Does my little dragon rider desire a bath?" He placed a warm hand upon your stomach, ghosting his lips against your ear.

You reached up to comb your fingers through his hair, undoing the loosened braids you had made there. "I would love to bathe, but only if my dragon joins me."

"Hmm, you are in luck then, my love." Aemond chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to place soft kisses against your wrist. "Now you've claimed me, I will never leave your side."

#aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond drabble #aemond imagine #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond lemon #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #aemond targaryen x you

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jifanjiang0710 · 3 months

Text

platonic yandere! father x fem! reader Warnings: incest (not between yandere and reader)

Fùqīn: Father

“Fùqīn.”

Though his eyes remained shut, legs crossed lazily off the veranda (ruffling his kù), an imperceptible upward quirk of the lips spoke of his acknowledgement. One sleeve hastened to conceal the bowl beside him, but you caught it just before it disappeared behind the garment.

“Intoxicating yourself?” Your tone turned icier, if possible, and your father scrambled to redeem himself.

“Of course not, [Name]-er, just indulging lightly in the morning-” You interrupt him with a whack upside on the head, with a fan someone had gifted you, unsympathetic to his pitiful wail. He had developed a rather bothersome drinking habit as of late, though by all means far from dangerous for your father was an elegiac drunk, often accompanying a teary sort of clinginess. It was evident even for the rare visitor to surmise that he was particularly attached to you, his only daughter and child. Since your birth, after overcoming his initial reluctance to hold you, you were rarely let out of his sight, often seen trailing behind the first prince or wrapped up in his arms, a little bundle of childhood. When he had left the palace you were carried close to his chest, none the wiser.

Even then you found yourself somehow coaxed onto his lap, tugged forward by the arm until your head could rest atop his chest. He raised the wine to your lips, to which you halt him.

“Fùqīn.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed and set it aside. “Won’t you call me ā-diē like other children do? Am I not enough of a beloved father to you?” The complaint came across as more puerile than heart-wrenching. After failing to garner a response, he tousled your hair, raking long fingers through the strands that would take you two kè to put up. He had insisted before that he could braid your hair just as well as any servant, into a style befitting of the noblest of ladies (he cannot) (he has tried).

“You… must relearn royal etiquette,” you said, shifting out of his grasp to maintain a preferred detachment. “You cannot be sitting so crassly, or running your mouth when we return to the Imperial Palace. Fùqīn, we must demonstrate impeccable manners and grace show that our time here has not diminished our values as royals.”

“My brother deserves none of my effort.” He only pulled you back into the embrace, with the excuse of keeping you warm amidst the third snow of the season. “Was he not the one who saw my exile?”

“It is not just the Emperor. What of the Queen Mother, the princess, the concubines and their children? They will seize any opportunity or weakness to scorn us for lack of refinery. We would never shake of the brand of criminals.” For the first time this morning a draft made you shiver despite not feeling any effect from the cold just now, allowing him to lean in to monopolise more of your body heat. He was sensitive to low temperatures, but would still dwell outdoors frequently in winter months, dressed in scant layers of clothing. As much as he laughed it off as an odd quirk and impulse, you recognised it as a form of punishment, self-imposed suffering he inflicted upon his skin. You dare think that it is due to the guilt he carries for being the reason both you and he were here now, abandoned in an old residence someplace near the northern border.

He had remained silent this while, as if contemplative. An unusual occurrence. The wind tore through the house with greater ardour, brushing across frosted branch and soil to deposit a perilous chill within the stone walls. Finally, he placed a palm over your cheek, a gentle warmth soft as snowflakes adorning his smile, and spoke. “You wish to become a royal again?”

The lump of saliva in your throat felt much harder to swallow. “Yes.”

“Then I shall see it through.”

“…”

“…what’s wrong, [Name]-er?”

You dismissed it as a wandering mind, but you would never admit to him that for perhaps the second time in your whole life, he had frightened you. Though his arms were gentle and eyes soft, you could not find reprieve from the sudden chill you experienced earlier.

While your father the first prince savoured the tranquillity of an early grey noon, you begin to muse on the letter that had arrived so unceremoniously the month before. A horseman handed it to you, you unfurled the scroll, he left.

It carried the official stamp and seal of the Imperial Palace, a message direct from the emperor. The Emperor! Casting his gaze on disgraced royals such as you? The contents merely spoke of a potential reinstatement of both your titles by the next Lunar New Year, in time to celebrate the spring festival. The next announcement would be of the emperor’s visit to your humble residence. What could prompt him to make an in-person trip, much less to a land so far from the capital?

You had relayed this enthusiastically to your father, who nearly gave you heart palpitations when he downright refused to accommodate his brother the emperor.

“Fùqīn! You cannot reject a decree!”

“[Name]-er.” The autumn leaves had littered the courtyard, the task of clearing them he conveniently ignored. “I know you are eager for our period of exile to end-”

“I am! I don’t want to have you live like this anymore, not when you were supposed to be the Crown Prince, not when they slammed you with baseless accusations of treason!”

“Guāi, don’t be angry. Come here…”

But you snatch your hand out of his grip, seething at the injustice of your circumstances. “Even if we have to be civil to him, it doesn’t matter. As long as we can…”

‘As long as my father won’t have to bear the burden of his punishment anymore. As long as I can have a chance to provide for him better in the future, find a proper job in the capital… for both our sakes.’ You left that unsaid.

He laughed. He laughed and it was so incongruous that you were frozen in place. “My sweet daughter. Are you worried about me?”

“No. It’s so I can have a better life. You can rot here for all I care.”

“I know you would never do that.” He tugged you down effortlessly into his arms, wooden tea table shoved aside, and like a snake constricted you so tight you had to hit him twice on the head for him to loosen up. “My daughter… tell me this. Have I ever seemed displeased with my life here?” You can feel the weight of his chin on your head.

“[Name]-er, I am content here. As long as we are together, and I have you.”

Come to think about it, that’s when his excessive drinking problem worsened. ______________________________________________________________ Meeting the Emperor

The emperor’s arrival mirrored opposite of that of the letter. A silken-draped carriage, held aloft by muscled workers from further up north, the procession led by finely-maned horses and their carts. Only the wine vessels caught your father’s interest. You clutched your fan close, the same one that had arrived enclosed within the letter. That item, you did not disclose its origins to your father. As far as he is aware you had picked it up while visiting the town market.

The emperor, with all his grandeur, still did not hesitate stepping into the estate with only two accompanying soldiers, his retainers instructed to linger just outside the courtyard, and conveniently out of earshot.

“Ye Heqing.” He addressed your father, a courteous smile gracing his attractive features. “It has been a while, gē.” Upon receiving no response, his smile only widened, and he directed the next greeting to you. “[Name]-er.”

“Who gave you the right to call her that?” You had to placate your father, and kneel in his place. The emperor’s eyes lay on the fan he gifted you with, fixed securely to your side with a wooden chain.

“Huángshàng, please forgive him, he has not been feeling very well-” Blind panic swims in your vision, from the corner of your field of view you could witness your father scoff dismissively, obviously enraged at the familiarity in which his brother addressed you.

“I was fine until you came. Leave my family alone.” Ye Heqing takes a step closer to the emperor, his younger brother, the plain thin hanfu a distinguishing contrast to the latter’s dark red robes and golden-rimmed cap, while their faces parallel an eerie similarity.

“I assure you, gē, I wish no harm. I have but one request, that is the chance to speak with your daughter, my niece, in private.”

“LIKE HELL I WOULD LET-”

Your father was dragged away by the soldiers out of his own house, thrashing and yelling profanities so blasphemous it would have a commoner executed should they attempt the same. “[NAME]!” he howls out as a final desperate parting, or perhaps for help.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Now that that has been settled, shall we converse?” The emperor signals for you to stand, and you lead him to the tearoom, suddenly conscious of the sole shaky desk that had served you loyally for fifteen years. With trembling fingers and a chipped pot, you poured him a tea of the finest variant of leaves you owned, freshly ground.

“Thank you.” If he did not enjoy it, your uncle did not make it obvious. On the contrary his attention seemed to be fixated on something else. If not the fan you kept by your waist, then your eyes, forehead, hands, as if scrutinising.

He lifts the chains that attach the fan to the fabric. “I shall have to replace these with jade beads instead.” You still. Since when had he come so close?

“Have you considered my offer?” Another hand brushes past your hip, subtly at first, then snaking around it to grip.

In truth there was another part to the letter you had hidden from your father. A separate note handwritten by the emperor, to convey a personal request.

“So?” He inquired, savouring the hitch of your breath when his chest presses into your spine. “I have waited long for your correspondence, leaving me no choice but to advance my visitation earlier.”

“No.” Pulling away, you recall your father’s words.

‘I am content here. As long as we are together…’

“No,” you repeated. “Please forgive this niece, Huángshàng, for I am unable to accept that condition. I cannot, and will not, marry you.”

For a minute, it seemed as though the emperor were about to protest. The sharpness in his eyes began to brandish its piercing tip. He would have appealed somehow, with the title of Empress, or the solid security of your status and lifestyle, reverence of the kingdom, maybe even temptations of the flesh from a man as desirable as he (for who else would liaise with a banished royal?).

He chose to express none of those. Instead, he listened intently for another sound from outside. Surely enough, if you strained your ears, Ye Heqing could be heard through muffled shrieks. The emperor shook his head.

“I have desired you for a number of months now. Your resilience in the face of tribulation and commendable feats to keep yourself and my brother alive for this long have reached my ears. Consider me impressed. Though banished and left to die, you have established good rapport with the local townsfolk, enough to secure yourself a source of income.

“It hardly ends there. Utilising your father’s royal education and knowing he could not apply for the imperial scholar examinations; you advertised him as a tutor instead. Though lazy and idle my brother may be, he has the heart to spend his days teaching and nights studying. Two silver taels… a bargain of a price, for such a reputable teacher.” He flashes that signature charming smile, but nothing like the warmth of your father’s grin. “But,” the teacup is set down, “is that the fate you wish to burden him with forever? An unstable income with barely enough to wear additional layers of clothes in winter?”

He is referring to your father’s self-inflicted pain. You are about to raise your voice, defend him and explain the reason for such, but you understand what he is getting at. Do you want Ye Heqing to continue making himself suffer?

Sensing your hesitance, your uncle continues, taking your right hand in his. “He is not getting any younger, nor am I. I wish to settle down, with a wife competent enough to rule beside me for the maintenance and expansion of the kingdom. A wife who is, simply speaking, as gorgeous and spirited as you.” He placed a kiss on the top of each knuckle, gaze lidded and implicit.

“My father… is happy here. And he would never agree to be with the family that scorned, framed him for-”

“Framed?” The emperor’s eyebrows knitted in a perplexed scowl, though anyone could tell that it was insincere. The twitch of his eyes and repressed grin told that he had been anticipating the opportunity to bring up the topic of your father’s crimes. “Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

“He… he was innocent. He had never betrayed the former Emperor, or the kingdom! You had no evidence and only sought to exile him for the throne! Yes, he is greedy, indolent, obstinate, eats too much, drinks too much, deceptive, blur, foul-mouthed and everything in between, but he would never…”

“Never what, [Name]-er?”

“Never…” You don’t know why you faltered. “Never steal from the Emperor.”

Your uncle laughed. He laughed and it sounded just like your father, so incongruous that you have an odd sense of deja-vu. “Is that what he told you? Hahahahahaa… I,” he manages between fits of giggles, “Ye Moyao, Emperor of the XX kingdom, have never heard such a blatant falsehood in my life.”

“Wh- But he said that you accused him of stealing fifty-thousand taels, from palace reserves, to…”

He rubbed his chin. “True, we never did find out where the half a wàn silver taels had went, but he was convicted for a very different reason. Poor thing, did he not tell you?” He leaned in closer, lips to your ear. “Has he lied about it all these years?”

Seeing how dumbstruck you are, he resumes, voice somber. “Ye Heqing was found guilty of the attempted murder of the former Emperor, our father. He had kept a vial of poison in his sleeve pocket, to serve to him when he had the chance. Fortunately, it merely made him severely ill, and my father recovered within the year, by which time we had already identified Ye Heqing as the culprit and had both of you exiled.”

“You’re lying.” You would never have dared address the emperor rudely, but the news was absurd. Your father- No, that was impossible. “It’s not true-”

“I could have him executed; you know.”

The threat silences you. He chuckles. “Marry me. You --- nor he --- would have to suffer here any longer.”

You think long and hard, and nod.

______________________________________________________________

Days in the Palace

You saw the emperor’s entourage off as far as the edge of the town. Following your acceptance he had tried to lay a hand on you but was refused.

“Didn’t you notice, [Name]-er? The way he looked at you?! I’ll pluck out his eyes and scatter his remains! I’ll kill him! How dare he lay such a repulsive gaze on MY daughter? I’ll murder him, I really will-!”

“Fùqīn, you are not sober. Take the herbal tea.”

This tirade had gone on for the better half of the evening after the emperor’s departure. While you held the wine bowl high out of reach from his kneeling form, you began to consider the implications of a marriage with Ye Moyao. Surely it would be scorned and opposed, seeing as he was your uncle, but public opinion had never stopped him for acquiring what he wanted. The punishment of beatings for marrying within family or clan was a threat null and void in the face of the Emperor. You doubted he would have selected a very auspicious date for the ceremony, given how eager he seemed for the marriage to commence early.

Of course, your father was not informed of this decision.

“[Name]-errrr…”

“Tch. Do not display such disgraceful behaviour once we return to the palace.”

A sniffle from him.

Then, about eight nights before the Spring Festival, you two had ridden a modest carriage to the capital after collectively refusing the transport arranged by the Imperial Palace. Nearly immediately upon entrance you and your father had been separated much to his obvious chagrin. A band of handmaidens had ushered you off to an ornate room of dark wood and stone, and tutors were assigned to subject you to a strict series of lessons, educating you on national matters, the Lunyu, royal customs etc. Your diet had been no stranger to close scrutiny, and however majestic and grand the palace and its surrounding gardens may be, you were often confined to the spaces between the classroom and your chambers. Not that you minded that much, you still managed to interact with a great host of persons, and some childhood friends you could hardly recall.

You had not seen your father since. Word from the servants were that he had been called to meet the Emperor, by which time he would have learnt of his only child’s engagement with his own brother. Much to your astonishment there had been no news of a large fuss somewhere in the grounds; Ye Heqing was reputed for his rashness when it involved his daughter in particular. Speaking of your father, he became the favourite topic for gossip amongst the royal family and their associates. That much you could glean even with your limited interactions outside. About his attempted murder, his time in exile. It made you seethe. How could they assume so much of his character, his person when barely understood him?

In the days that followed it would be amiss to neglect the mention of the various gifts your soon-to-be husband was delivering to your quarters each morning. Whether it be your favourite mooncake flavours (how did he know??), vibrant and colourful jewellery, or intricate gadgets from the West, Ye Moyao seemed to acutely pinpoint your tastes, only selecting items that would catch your intrigue or fancy. It was mildly unsettling, as if he could pry you open and browse through your soul at will. It was lucky that your father was forbidden to meet with you for now, or else you think he would have eaten all the gifted snacks in your stead.

Until now it seemed that the emperor had no interest in meeting you until the wedding date. Your wedding was set conveniently on Lunar New Year’s Eve (appalling choice of date), and you only got to see your father on the day itself.

Your hair was done up by no other than the Queen Mother herself, who had wordlessly visited your abode and with elegant wrinkled fingers finished the job with an elaborate golden hair stick, another present from Ye Moyao. When you finally locked eyes with him at the ceremony banquet, there was an unidentifiable gleam within his gaze. The crimson red of your dress under the dark vest matched the colour of the sash over his flowing garments. From the second you were led down the red carpet you could feel the scrutiny of others creeping up your spine, nestling between the ossicles of your ears and piercing like clouds through your ribs. The traitor’s child. The emperor’s new obsession.

Strangely enough, your father was not here. Though your eyes ran many a lap over the whole courtyard you could not catch the familiar mop of brown hair floating in the crowd. Maybe it was not such a bad thing. He would have wasted no time in objecting to the marriage disrupting the progression of the wedding. You had no time to be disappointed, for the kowtowing ritual and tea-serving ceremony had begun. Even as you ate at the table, responding quite mechanically to the inquiries of the former emperor and the Queen Mother you had little rest, for Ye Moyao was gripping tightly to your hand for the most part, occasionally sliding up your knee and thigh. Expression still unreadable, you decided it tedious to do anything but entertain his whims.

Even as he carried you to the bridal chambers, you had not protested much.

______________________________________________________________

Ye Heqing's Appearance

“Dear wife, would you come here?”

After the whole ordeal of the ceremony you were spent, having little time to relish in the reinstatement of your official title alongside your new title as empress. Regardless you still made your way to sit beside him on the lavish bed.

Your uncle hums in satisfaction, pulling you close by the waist to bury his nose into your neck and inhale deeply. “It has been a while since I cared so much to indulge in a woman, much less choose to marry her.”

“Where is my father?”

He shook his head. “You needn’t concern yourself with the whereabouts of a traitor. I am all that you need t-”

“He is not.”

“…what makes you so sure? He had hidden the truth behind his banishment for a little less than two decades. Why are you so adamant on his innocence?”

It was as though the blood flow to your heart had halted. Every nerve and capillary burned with an overwhelming distaste, wanting to tear our flakes of skin where he had touched you, yet you remain pliant and silent. His hand moves to the knots on your vest, undoing them slowly, sensually. When he had reached for the hem of your dress your eyes were tightly shut, fists clenched at the side.

Expecting to feel cool air against your skin, you did not anticipate the warmth of a palm over your eyelids, and hot splatters of oozing liquid onto your skin. A gurgling and choke from Ye Moyao.

Once you cared enough to open them, you are instantly wrapped in the embrace of a familiar set of arms, carrying with them a homely, earthly scent. When you tried to pry him away to see just what he had done, Ye Heqing’s grip on you only became firmer, sword grasped in the other hand, intent on shielding you from the grotesque sight of his brother’s slit neck.

“Sweet girl, are you alright?” Your father uttered over the gasps and ruffling from his brother’s writhing. “Fùqīn is here.” He examines the ‘man’ that was the emperor, perhaps hoping to have prolonged his torment a little longer, but you came first. Once his beloved daughter was safe and secure he would go for the rest of the royal family, and then he could have his fun.

You think your father had entered through the window, or had hidden here for a while already. It did not matter; you would ask him of it later. “Your Royal Highness,” you addressed the emperor, back still turned to his although Ye Heqing had let you out of his arms to approach the dying man, “my father had not attempted to murder you and the former emperor.”

You could imagine his gaze, pupils blown wide and fixed manically on you. You only exhale and retreat. “If that was truly the case, he would have succeeded.”

A final slash of the bloodied blade, and Ye Moyao was no more.

#yandere x reader #leos works #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

Hiii! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x fem!reader where they have curly hair and they offhandedly mention wishing they didn’t or that they are thinking of getting it chemically straightened or something and all the boys are just like 😱 “don’t you dare” and super over dramatic bc they love her hair. Thank you!!

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 695 words

You smooth more product into your hair, blowing out a harsh breath when the stubborn curl springs back up from the top of your head anyway.

“Argh!” You press your hands to your eyes, feeling on the brink of tears. “I cannot deal with this right now.”

“What is it?” Remus asks from where he’s sitting on the bathroom rug, watching the rest of you get ready.

“My hair isn’t cooperating.”

“It looks fine to me,” James says, and then at the ferocious look you send him, he adds hastily, “More than fine. Gorgeous, perfect. Just like you.”

“It’s this frizz,” you huff. “I just want it to look neat for one night, is that too much to ask? This is ridiculous.” You seize a pair of scissors, thinking to simply cut the curl—there may be consequences in the long run, but damn it, you just want it to look decent now—but Sirius grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” He wrestles the scissors from you. “Shit, baby, it doesn’t look bad at all! Don’t get so riled up.”

“You don’t get it,” you say, knowing you sound childish but too frustrated to care. “It’s unmanageable. It’s too much work, all of the time! There’s this thing where you can get it chemically straightened, I think I’m going to do that.”

Sirius had started bringing his eyeliner pencil to his lash line, but it goes straight down his cheek at your words. “What?”

“Sweetheart,” James says, sounding appalled, “you can’t!”

“Why not?” You really want to know. Why shouldn’t you do the thing that’d make your life so much easier?

“Be—because,” he insists. “It’s your hair!”

“Dove.” Even Remus seems upset, a concerned line appearing between his brows. “Your hair is so lovely, why would you want to make it less unique?”

“None of you have to deal with wrangling it every day,” you grumble, attempting again to smooth down the rebellious curl and pointing at it accusingly when it boings back up.

“Shit, I’ll do it,” Sirius says, batting your hands away and beginning to fuss over your hair. He hasn’t wiped away his eyeliner, and it sweeps down his cheek like a comically gothic teardrop. “If it’ll keep you from ruining it with chemicals, I’ll do your hair for you every day.”

“You won’t want to,” you say darkly. “You’ll get sick of it soon. It’s impossible, it never behaves when you want it to.”

James sets his chin on your shoulder, pouting at you in the mirror. “I think it looks cool when it doesn’t behave. It’s curly, part of the appeal is that it doesn’t have to be neat.”

The compliments wash over you without your noticing. “But what if I want to look nice?”

“You always look nice, darling,” Remus sighs, rolling his eyes like you’re being difficult. “And James is right. Your hair might not always look sleek or perfectly smooth, but it has its own personality. Don’t get upset with it because of its nature. Be nicer to it, hm?”

You’re about to argue with him again, but Sirius takes your chin in his hand, turning your head and capturing your lips with his. His mouth is insistent on yours, and James snickers as you make a low, whiny sound. Sirius looks at you evenly as he pulls back, leaving his thumb on your chin.

“Let me deal with it,” he says firmly, “and when I’m done, it’s going to look so pretty you’re going to wonder why you ever thought of changing it.”

You don’t reply, but he recognizes your silence for the assent it is, taking the errant curl and beginning to braid it into a small section of your hair.

“Ooh, I like that,” James says, watching Sirius’ deft fingers in the mirror. “Moons, will you let me do that to yours?”

Remus sighs as though it comes at a great cost, but agrees, moving to sit down in front of James so that he can receive the same princess treatment you are.

“See, dovey?” He looks up at you, smirking. “Now if you say your hair doesn’t look good, you’ll be insulting us both.”

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pandorxxx · 1 year

Text

Sweet mind of yours…

Lo’ak x metkayinan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: fluff, smut, cursing, creampie, orgasms, p in v, belly bulge.

Synopsis: you and lo’ak had been close ever since he came to your clan seeking Uturu. It was clear that you both liked each other, but you were scared. Scared of what might happen if you finally let him in. What happens when you finally do?

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His words rolled off of his tongue like molasses with a bright smile. His baritone knocking you out of your trance.

You picked your head up, meeting his soft gaze. His eyes were pools of rich honey…inviting, almost too inviting. You were falling hard, and you knew other girls were too. He was the shiny new toy around the clan, but it seemed as if he wanted to spend all of his time with you.

His strong, calloused hands were delicately placed in his lap. His posture slightly slouched as he sat next to you on the edge of the rock. You’d normally bring him here to watch the sunset, but the sunset wasn’t the only view.

His freckles danced under the dimly lit sky, like painted constellations across his broad chest. His braided hair, placed in a loose ponytail as one braid covered his eye, courtesy of you. Once you told him how handsome he looked, he never stopped with the style.

His smile, so sweet and delicate. It made your heart flutter every time you saw him. And tonight seemed to prove no different.

“Thinkin’ about how dull my life was…before you came along.” You smiled back, a dusty purple tint staining your cheeks in nervousness.

“Is that so?” He asked playfully, bumping your shoulder with his gently. You let out a soft giggle, smiling down at your feet, swishing the ocean water around beneath you. You nodded in response.

“Yup. Know what else?” You turned to look at the side of his face briefly before turning away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell me, huh?” He chuckled, now staring at the side of your face, hoping you would give him the gift of your beautiful blue eyes. It was like you two were playing a game of tag. You were never good with direct eye contact, especially with lo’ak.

“How every girl here is probably frothing at the mouth for you.” You joked, but nothing about it was a game to you. It was scary to know that this could all end in the blink of an eye. He cocked an eyebrow, staring out into the crystal blue water.

“Nah. I'm not too much interested in any of those girls. Plus, I’ve got my eyes on a beauty already. Just wish she had her eyes on me…” the last sentence trailed off into the air as his eyes met the side of your face again. And you could feel the heat radiating on your cheek. He let out a patient sigh, kicking his feet languidly in the water.

“Why don’t you look at me?” He asked with a concerned tone. His hand engulfing yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you unintentionally pulled away from his embrace.

“I-I wasn’t trying to- Im sorry.” He panicked, before face palming, followed by a shake of his head in embarrassment. It became awkward, and you couldn’t help but think you ruined the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to look at him for too long, or that you didn’t want him to touch you. In fact, you wanted all of those things more than anything else. You were just scared. Scared that if you stared at him for a second too long, you’d fall in love. Scared that if his fingertips grazed your skin the right way, you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself. And although he was sending you all of the right signals, what if you misread them?

It was scary for you, all of it. There were so many worthy girls here. Why would it be you? How could it be…you? The silence filled the air, and he couldn’t take it. It was all too much for him.

He couldn’t read you even if he tried. He had a feeling that you liked him, but you never really let him in. Never opened up. He needed to know how you felt about this. Even if that meant pushing the boundaries of your friendship by making the first move.

“Y/n…” he sighed, shifting his entire body to face you. You swallowed thickly, as it seemed that he wasn’t going to let this go. You slowly shifted your entire body to face him as well, crossing your legs on the rock. He did the same, pulling you alittle closer to him by your waist. Being as gentle as possible with you.

“You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on in that sweet mind. I can’t read you, as much as I would like to.” He spoke softly, engulfing your hands in his, still searching for your eye contact. Your heart ached in fear, knowing that this was quite literally now or never.

“I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.” You shook your head, tears clouding your vision. So many feelings coming to the forefront. Feelings that you’ve worked so hard to suppress. It was safe to say that you were madly in love with him, so much that it hurt.

“Yes you can, please. I-I need to know what’s behind those beautiful eyes that you like hiding from me so much.” His hands trailed up to caress your cheek. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Your body began to heat up, and not in the way you’d think. Not so much with lust…it was deeper than that. It was as if you had finally found what you’d been searching for. The touch you’d been yearning for, but was too afraid to reach out and take. He was your missing piece, and it was evident now more than ever.

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. But I can't seem to shake the feelings I have for you. Can’t seem to shake the feeling that we belong together. I just wish I knew how you felt about me. It’s like I know you…but I don’t. I can’t make sense of this. So maybe we can help eachother.” He confessed, a hopeful smile creeping across his lips. And just like that, he had your attention.

Your eyes met his after his confession. Your ears flicking in the wind while your tail swayed high behind you. “There’s my girl…” he smiled, watching in awe at your reaction. Finally confirming what you felt for him, you didn’t even have to say it…but you felt the need to.

“Lo’ak, you just kinda came in and swept me off of my feet. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t know what this is either, but I know that I just wanna be with you. That’s all I wanna do, lo’ak.” You finally confessed, still maintaining that eye contact he’d been craving ever since he laid eyes on you.

He bit his lip with a cheesy smile. His hands finding your dainty arms, caressing them in a way of praising you for finally opening up to him. You shifted to your knees, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek. His face was soft, yet his cheek bones were prominent and sharp. Your eyes traced over his intricate freckle pattern, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Lastly, your eyes trailed over his lips. Your thumb gently brushing over his bottom lip. Now his tail was swaying high, patiently waiting for you to make the first move. He was just happy to witness you coming out of your shell. Just happy to be in your presence. He’d wait forever for you…

“If you wanna kiss me, I won’t stop you.” He chuckled. You bit your bottom lip, deciding that you wanted to do alittle more than that. You straddled his lap, holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as his hands found their place on your waist. Your lips crashed into his, essentially answering his lingering question. He let out a satisfied groan, shifting his hands down to your hips. You grabbed the sides of his head to deepen the long overdue kiss, instinctively grinding into him.

His huge hands guided your hips to create the right amount of friction. You both moaning into the kiss at this point. You could feel his cock growing by the second, and he could feel the pool between your legs. It was absolutely bliss.

“May I?” Lo’ak asked in between kisses, tugging on the back of your loincloth. “You can do whatever you want to me.” You spoke breathily, moving down to his neck, leaving hickeys on his skin.

“Mmm baby, don’t get me started.” He grunted, planting sweet pecks on your shoulder as he untied your loincloth from around your tail. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to sit up briefly for him to pull the loincloth from underneath you, and you happily obliged.

An immediate flow of your slick trickled down to his thighs. You were more than ready for him, and had been for some time now.

“Take this off.” You whispered in his ear as you tugged on his loincloth with great force. He let out a soft chuckle at your sudden eagerness. He shifted you to your back, with him now kneeling between your legs. His eyes trailed your entire body, your freckles glistening in the night sky.

“So beautiful.” He shook his head in awe, reaching behind himself to untie his loincloth, the fabric dropping to the ground beneath him. His cock sprung up, hitting his belly with a loud, heavy slap. A string of precum oozing out of his tip. The freckles on his shaft

dancing individually in anticipation. Your legs had intentionally opened alittle more. You reached out, your fingertips just barely grazing over the base in wonder. He let out a soft gasp, his tail hitting the ground with force repeatedly in excitement.

“So beautiful.” You smirked, leaning back on the ground, ready for him to take you as his. Ready for him to have his way with you. He smiled at you, grabbing his cock to jerk it off slowly.

He then proceeded to thrust in between your wet folds, earning a soft moan from you. “Please, give it to me.” You whined, grabbing his cock to line it up with your aching hole. His eyes widened in anticipation, letting you take control for right now. With one simple push, you slide him into you slowly, your walls immediately sucking him in. You both letting out a series of moans.

“Fuuuck, baby girl.” He whimpered, gripping your hips to thrust into you expertly. Immediately hitting all the right spots in a matter of seconds. Your back bowed to the rock, exposing the large print In your lower belly with every hard thrust into you.

“Y-You’re in m-my fucking stomach, lo’ak.” You whined in pleasure, head tilted all the way back as your eyes rolled. Your dainty hand dancing around the print.

“I-I know, I know mama. Taking it so well, too.” He grunted, running his hand over the bulge briefly. The pleasure was consuming the both of you, more so you. You couldn’t seem to control the sounds that came out of your mouth, or the faces you made. It’s like lo’ak had completely control over you.

Your hands found their way to your face, trying to hide yourself from him. Your screams becoming muffled instantly. His thrusts quickened, and deepened. His tip constantly slamming against your sweet spot.

“No, no, no baby. I wanna see you.” He spoke lowly, gently grabbing your hands, holding both of your wrists in one of his large hands as he continued to fuck into you like it was the last time he’d see you.

You tucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Eyebrows furrowed, and face screwed in pleasure as you tried desperately to hide your cries.

“Oh come on, mama. Don’t hide from me. Let that shit out. You know you can’t hold it forever.” His baritone soothing your eardrum just right. He sent you slow, hard strokes. So intense that you had no other choice but to drop your jaw. Small whimpers escaping through with every meeting of his pelvis to yours.

“Yesss, juuust like that baby. Open up.” He nodded, licking his bottom lip as he stared into your eyes. He shifted your legs over his shoulders, before placing his hands on either side of your head. You were nearly folded in half. His face hovering just over yours, so there was no excuse not to look at him. He was deeper than he’d ever been, closer than he’d ever been.

“Lo’ak- t-oooo deep.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He just watched you in awe. You were so pretty taking all of him, and he couldn’t get enough.

“I know, baby. You’ve gotta take it for me. You’re too pretty like this.” He moaned, rolling his hips into you as he stared down at your flustered face, waiting for a reaction.

“Ohhh my- lo’ak! I-I love you! I love youuuu!” You screamed, legs beginning to shake. He nodded in satisfaction, his breaths becoming short and heavy.

“Mmm, I love you too baby.” He confessed, a slight whine in his tone before his bottom lip found comfort between his teeth. You could feel it, your stomach began to contract, almost like you were exercising. Every stroke was revealing trickles of your arousal flowing down to the surface beneath you, and it was becoming too much for lo’ak to bare as well.

“Shiiit, y/n. You’re gonna make me fucking cum. You’re d-driving me crazy baby.” He whined, before his lips crashed into yours. You both muffling eachothers loud moans as your peeks neared. “Lo’aaaak. I-I” you moaned deliriously between kisses.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me. I wanna feel that shit, you hear me?” He asked, a tinge of aggression in his tone. You nodded frantically, eyes locked on his.

“Cum in me. Pleaseeee!” You begged, pulling him in for another kiss. He sent you one hard thrust, rolling his hips into yours again with a loud growl against your lips. Your eyes crossed in pleasure. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, slipping off his shoulders and to the side of his hips. You pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let go on him.

“Yessss, I-Im cumming lo’ak. I’m cumming!” You whimpered, walls fluttering around his sensitive shaft. He let out a series of low groans and growls as he emptied himself inside of you. Thrusting into you languidly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Take it all, baby. Milk me dry.” He moaned, rubbing his head into your neck, scenting you to claim you as his. He sent you one last stroke before leaving himself inside of you. You both catching your breath as he laid ontop of you.

“That was…” he started.

“Amazing” you finished.

He flipped you both over, you were now ontop of him and he laid flat across the rock. You two were now face to face. Sharing the same breath. It was beautiful. “If you’d let me. I’d love to see what’s going on in this beautiful mind of yours.” He smiled, grabbing his queue, bringing it In between you two. You watched his trendils dance. You lazily reach behind you, grabbing yours to bring it to the forefront. It was almost like a magnetic force, the way both of your trendils pulled towards eachother like they belonged together.

You both watched as they connected. Pupils blown with an audible gasp from both of you. It’s like your memories of eachother were in sync. A little movie playing of all the moments you spent with eachother. Only things that’s you two would share, now and forever.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you more, lo’ak.”

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