#enter his courts with praise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controld3vil · 1 month

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𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine.

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks.

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother.

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.”

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request.

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now.

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that?

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat.

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief.

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant.

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom.

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?”

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face.

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it.

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her!

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to.

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black.

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace.

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose.

“I told you, Alicent is fine!”

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate.

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide.

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.”

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know.

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.”

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess.

“Congratulations!”

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy.

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful.

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there.

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast.

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth.

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.”

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.”

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!”

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could.

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate.

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her.

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back.

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of.

“Why are you pouting?”

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm.

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father.

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast.

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind.

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.”

She looks at you, astonished. “What?”

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.” Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury.

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?”

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.”

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors.

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out.

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon?

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?”

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far.

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one.

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly.

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin.

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea.

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas.

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war.

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband.

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain.

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply.

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly.

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face.

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clawsdevour · 1 month

Text

victory reward

wc: 2.1k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, ushijima x reader, smut, hinting towards a sex marathon, mention of semen retention, size kink, cream pie, not proofread

び˚ˎ 。

The final sound of the spike that your husband, Ushijima Wakatoshi, landed on the volleyball court secured the win for Japan in the Paris Olympics volleyball game. The cheering after Japan’s winning still rang in your ears when you left to go backstage in order to meet with Ushijima when he step foot off the blazing court.

“Toshi!! Right here!” Screaming against all of the sounds that resonated in the crowded hallway to get his attention. His stone cold eyes meet yours and softened immediately when he made his way to your direction. The closer he stepped towards you, his warm welcoming arms opened for a big hug despite being drenched in sweat.

“Hey love, did you watch me play all day?” Falling into his strong arms that held you closer to him, a faint smile spreading on his lips as you nod into his chest. The crowds’ are walking around you two while you quickly chatted in place about the match that just finished.

Leaving the big and roaring venue, the cold air hits your face once you step foot outside. Your arm clings with his for warmth, walking alongside him trying to not get caught up with the other people who strolled by. You’re praising him for his skills and the last strike he landed on court that brought Japan to it’s next match in the Olympics. He’s smiling to himself, content with the victory and the fact he now knows that you came and watched him play the whole time.

“When we get back to our hotel, are you gonna reward me?” Ushijima peers down to see your awestruck face frozen in surprise due to his silly attempt at hinting you two to do something suggestive. Ushijima’s not the type to ask for intercourse often, you’d have to pounce on him and have a whole build up to get to the tip of it because of how stern and naive he could be. Not to mention, his busy schedule to keep his volleyball skills and physique in check.

“Haha, Toshi would you even take my reward if I gave it to you?” Giggling to play with him a bit, half serious. He’s putting back on his game face as his piercing eyes scream out a simple Yes which was all you needed to know. He was serious, he must’ve been waiting for a long time to be buried in you once more.

The moment you enter and close your hotel door was the moment where his big silhouette carried and dropped you onto the springy and plush king sized bed. Ushijima’s hands are placed by your ears, trapping you in position underneath his heavy and athletic frame.

Wrapping your hands around his head as he leaned into you to share an intimate kiss on the lips. He couldn’t wait and be patient any longer, his tongue pokes through to completely take over the inside of your mouth. Ushijima roughly dominates the kiss by massaging his tongue around yours while you continuously moaned into the heated gesture. At some point he had to pull away to let you both breathe a little.

Your lips were barely touching while you breathed in each others warm air, a bit dizzy from that intoxicating kiss. His honest and dark olive eyes couldn’t keep off of your slightly swollen reddened lips as he went in for another one. Tracing the shape of your lips with the tip of his tongue, you watched through his long fluttering lashes. Sucking on your bottom lip, eager for your tongue to slip into his mouth as you felt his thick fingers caress the side of your face.

“I’m so.. Hard right now, it hurts. I haven’t let it out in so long.” Ushijima’s hot and raspy voice whispered in your ear. Tilting your head to meet his vulnerable face, his hand reaches for yours so he could lead you to feel what’s in between his tight shorts. Wow, his bulge was real big and stiff. You haven’t fucked with your husband in a month or two due to his intensive training schedule. Of course, he hasn’t let out any of his steam while being so caught up practicing to play for the Olympics.

“You could let it all out in me Toshi,” bringing his hand down your waistband to feel the wetness at the bottom of your underwear. His eyes slightly widened at the dampness. Ushijima brings his lips down to your neck to plant a sloppy kiss as his fingers rubbed along your clothed slit.

“I love you.” Ushijima shuffles up on his knees to take off his suffocating shirt that clung to him for dear life to reveal his rippling and muscular figure. Your fingers reached to linger across his sculpted torso trying to reel him in as he leaned back down towards you, placing hands on his broad shoulders.

“I love you too..” Your lustful eyes watched as he makes his way up your shirt, essentially pushing up your bra to reveal your stiff and perky nipples due to being released from their cage. Ushijima’s warm tongue caressing your tit causes you to push your head back into the soft pillow, the more he sucked and licked across your sensitive nip the more your head sank down. His other hand fondled with your unoccupied breast, teasing and playing with it as his eyes remained focused on your reactions.

Shortly after, his hands bring themselves down towards your hips, gradually bringing his swollen lips down with it. Ushijima’s working down your pants and underwear. You sit up to help him, also taking off your shirt and bra as you sat naked in front of him, with a slightly red hue flushed across your face.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe my job kept me away from you for so long, I’m sorry..” Ushijima’s parting your legs open like the red sea as you tried to resist out of humiliation. Of course, losing to his powerful and sturdy hands that kept you apart. His dark olive orbs lit up seeing your cunt already wet with your slick from all the kissing and slight nipple play.

Ushijima dives in with his tongue that draws steady circles over your little bundle of nerves, causing you to let out a whimper of shock. The foreign sensation of his tongue on your clit felt so good, your locked legs squirmed despite his grasp on the back of your thighs. The skin like dough seeping out of his hands while he holds you up. Your mouth parting and opening as your moans grew louder, whenever you call out his name in that lewd state he doesn’t hold back. Your hands were buried into his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. He’s adding in a thick finger or two inside to curl into your sweet spot to help prep you for his cock. He knows he’s gonna have to use more than two fingers, so he snuck in another one to stretch you out. Your legs are twitching like crazy as you squirmed and forced his head closer. His tongue swirls around in your plush hole once more, driving you to your spinning orgasm as he slurps up all of your remaining juices before his finishing course.

He unlatches his mouth from your dripping cunt as you lay limpless trying to regain your composure, watching him slide his shorts and boxers down to reveal his massive raging erection that dripped with precum. Your arms help you up as you saw him stroke it a few times as he grunted before laying it on your pussy.

“Toshi, is it gonna fit..?” You’re looking at him with a bit of fear in your eyes at his big and girthy length that’s currently sitting on your clit. He’s guiding his mad red tip to glide around on your slit, collecting the juices you secretated.

“I’ll make it fit.” Ushijima’s determined and believes it’ll all fit in like always even though you’re always a bit worried. Everytime you fuck it ends up like this, but he’s always somehow balls deep inside your plush walls that clung onto him. You knew that and always trusted him during the whole process of just putting it in. You’re laying down flat on your back as he’s towering over you once again. Feeling his tip find and prob at the entrance of your hole, Ushijima’s looking for your approval as you nod at him to stick it in.

There goes the first part, your entrance expands to take in his circumference. He’s slowly pushing it in, trying to not cause any more discomfort than his cock is already putting you in. the pain from stretching you out starts to kick in when you feel the stabbing sensation. Your deathenly grip on his shoulders increases, causing crescent marks to appear on his smooth skin whenever you had to readjust your hand placement.

“You okay? It’s just about in.” Ushijima’s grunting from the tight heated walls that held his cock, making it feel like it’s about to snap in half at any given moment. The waves of the killer stinging sensation began to increase when he started to slide out. It was like a metal fork scratching a chalkboard inside. Shoving it back was even more painful even though it was slightly starting to mix with pleasure that’ll soon start to wash over and fill your body.

Your body’s producing tears as a natural reaction towards the affliction, your loving husband’s wiping them off your face with his thumb while peppering you kisses all over. The slow but earth shattering damage that his cock implies on your clenching walls continued its attempt at stimulating you. Throwing your arms over his head, bringing him closer to your tearstained eyes. Your cunt takes the form of his size the more he moved in and out of you, loosening your grip on his cock.

“It feels good Toshi, you can go faster..” sobbing in between whines as waves of pleasure started to take over your body. Nodding his head as he grunted, his pace began to increase from a turtle’s pace to making you arch your back as you held onto him with all your might. His eyes averted to your breasts enjoying each bounce as he started to thrust even more.

The amount of inaudible sounds coming from your mouth and the squelching from below, he can’t take it anymore it’s been far too long. Ushijima’s uneven breathing came to a pause whenever your gummy walls clenched, eventually he came inside. Filling you to the brim even when he thought he emptied his load in you. Taking it out, his white goo continued to spray onto your breasts and stomach as some of it started to drip out of your cunt.

“Shit, there’s so much ha.” He’s trying to jerk it all out before taking on another round with you. When he thought he was done, it just started to leak out from his tip. Biting his lip as he continues to finish, before putting your legs up into a mating press.

Your knees pressed against the sticky semen on your chest as he’s pushing your ankles further down, exposing all of your pussy to him. You’re dripping with his cum that keeps trailing out of your cunt. Feeling his girth press against you again, he’s scooping his creamy white substance onto his cock before smoothly attempting to slide back in with a moan of relief.

Your head tilts back from all the stimulation as you’re grabbing onto the sheets. His cock is able to plummet and destroy your insides even more with his position that made your body more sensitive with how much deeper he can reach. All you can do is let out your loud continuous moans and praises as you take all of his length again and again. His unbreakable stamina turns your head into a groggy mess as you try to keep conscious throughout his heavy, hard poundings. Ushijima notices your change in reaction when as you try to keep up with his momentum and came to a complete stop.

“Hey, you okay? Do you need to take a break or drink some water?” Your eyes focus on him from between your legs. His words melt into your ears now that the sounds of flesh on flesh came to a halt. All you could hear was the heavy breathing ringing in your ears.

You shake your head ‘No,’ knowing you’ll have to at some point. All you could think about what how it’s gonna be a long night to celebrate.

masterlist here

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ellemarianne555 · 15 days

Text

Mother Issues

Summary: Aegon’s new wife is a Hightower and he isn’t sure how he feels about this. Fluffy smut.

Author’s note: this is so fluffy and self-indulgent and my first time ever writing smut so if it’s cringey and too much plot I’m sorry! Please leave feedback, I know my grammar can be iffy sometimes xoxo

Content warning: mdni, slight mommy kink, implied breeding kink, severe praise kink, heavy mommy issues and mentions of alcoholism and childhood neglect. Aegon is a dick for half of this but don’t worry he comes right in the end (literally lol).

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

With your long wavy hair and big unblinking eyes, the court had been whispering about how much you resembled a young Alicent since you were a girl. Your father was a brother to Otto, and rumours had long been rife that Otto had laid with your mother and had her married hastily to his kin to cover the scandal. You knew this wasn’t true though, as your mother was devoted to your father and you possessed his wit and kindness as well as your grandmother’s looks that had seduced Viserys into making your cousin, Alicent, his wife.

The rumours and gossip became even more pronounced when you were betrothed to Aegon. The sulky young King with his disheveled blonde hair and the pouty lips stained permanently red from the wine he had been known to imbibe. Aegon had thrown a fit when he heard you were to be married as he petulantly resented anything to do with his distant mother and belittling grandfather. He barely talked to you on your wedding night, since he had gotten so drunk that when he stumbled into your bed early in the morning he was unable to perform his marital duties. Flushing red, sweating and swearing to all who would listen that it was his wife and her Hightower features that were to blame; you two become even more distant as you became married in name alone.

So you kept to your chambers, armed with your ladies in waiting and mountains of mind-numbing embroidery to hide from the shame of a husband who couldn’t stand you. You heard that Aegon was busy with his whores down in the Street of Silk and though your ladies pushed you to take a handsome young lover, you were committed to the Faith and your role as a dutiful wife.

Time passed and you seemed to see even less of your husband as he struggled with the roles and responsibilities of being in charge of the realm. You heard snippets of fights and arguments, the rare times you ventured outside of your apartments for more reading materials, between Aegon and his councillors as he fought to have his voice heard and opinions valued.

Doors banged and shouting echoed down the hallway to your bed chamber as you heard arguing through the cracks of the stone wall.

“But it isn’t my fault!”, one voice said as another voice became more clear.

“How can you expect anyone to take you as their King when you can’t even prove yourself as a man?” Angrily responded another voice, that you recognised as that of your mother-in-law.

Your husband and his mother were arguing. About you. In front of your bed chamber.

Suddenly the door flew open as Aegon burst in, scowling and seething with anger.

“Are you happy now? I’m in her damn chambers and I’ll fuck her until you have all the precious heirs you want!”.

You nearly stabbed stabbed your thumb with a needle as you jumped out of your perch of a wide cushion nestled into the window. Fortunately your ladies were not there to witness your mouth open and close in sheer shock as your husband entered.

For not the first time, you wondered how miserable your life could be that when the man you were married to entered your room, that it was as shocking as though if Vhagar had started wearing gowns and demanding weekly tea parties in their honour. Shaking the image out of your mind, you could see your husband grit his teeth in frustration.

The door clanged heavily behind you and you heard short angry footsteps disappear down the hallway until you were both alone. For the second time in your marriage since you had stood at the altar, you were alone with your husband. But for all his cruel words that had passed around the court and confined you to these chambers in humiliation, you weren’t scared of him. He looked slightly small in fact. With his lips trembling and eyes glistening he looked more like a furious king and more like a lost boy.

He scowled at you, with his lower lips jutting out in such a way that you felt more like wiping his cheeks then scolding him for the embarrassment and isolation he had put you through.

“I’ll have to stay here.” He said petulantly. “For at least a few hours until Mother thinks my duty has been performed.”

He looked over to where your abandoned embroidery lay and his upper lip curled in disdain.

“I see there’s nothing to entertain myself with, so I might as well sleep.” He looked pointedly at you upon saying the word “entertain”, but again it seemed to came off as less hurtful but sulky and strangely self-conscious.

“What do you do to pass the time in here? Seeing as you never bother to come to court.”

Your mouth gaped open again as you realised that your husband was actually talking to you for once, instead of at you.

“W-well, I embroider.”

His eyes rolled nearly to the ceiling.

“A-and I read.” Your voice choking in your throat as his red rimmed stare snapped to your trembling lips.

“Really? I thought it wasn’t becoming of such a high-born lady to entertain herself with such foolish pursuits.”He said mockingly, and instead of rising to his disdain, you laughed.

“It seems I am not the only one in this marriage who amuses themselves with frivolity.”

His nostrils flared in anger as you realised that in your attempt to jest, you had instead struck a delicate nerve.

“I am not as foolish as you or this court believe you know. I have a great interest in my family’s history and that of the realm. Of course everyone just assumes that there is nothing else to me but the drinking and the whoring.”His mouth curled upwards in a way that showed you he had long been used to demeaning himself in front of others .

“I’m sorry.” You paused hesitantly, “I just don’t know how to talk to you. It seems like we are more strangers than when I had never met you.”

“Well, you don’t have to treat me as if I were an idiot. I get enough of that from my own kin.”

Again, you felt a pit form in your stomach as you thought how it must of been to grow up feeling lesser than. You had had not exactly an idyllic childhood in Old Town, but you knew your parents loved you. Even if they were misguided enough to agree to betroth you to a man who clearly hated you.

You tried again, “I’m sorry. I also find the stories of our history fascinating.”You held out a worn copy of folklore and fairytales from under one of the cushions from your childhood, one of the only things you had managed to take with you from home.

“You’re reading children’s stories?” Aegon scoffed.

“They’re not really stories at all. They introduce the stories of our past to children so they take an interest in the way things came to be. My favourite is how Visenya Targaryen and how she conquered the Vale.”

“Really?” Aegon said catching himself quickly before he sounded too interested.

“When I was younger I always dreamed of being like her, so strong and brave.”

“So did I.” He said almost begrudgingly.

“It must be hard. To grow up with a brother who often thinks less of you and diminishes your accomplishments.”

Aegon blinked, again surprised at how this woman who he had pushed away so harshly seemed to know him so well.

“I was just finishing this chapter. I could read it aloud? If that is alright with you, your grace.”

He nodded stiffly and sat at the edge of the window seat as though he were afraid to come any closer.

You patted the worn cushion next to him and smiled, “I don’t bite, my lord.” You teased. Again a smile seemed to escape from him as he slowly inched closer.

As the chapter progressed and the pages turned you noticed that your husband was falling asleep, first on your shoulder then burrowing down to your lap. You stiffened, unsure of whether to wake him but you decided that he seemed in need of a good rest and slowly wound his straggly blond hair through your fingers.

Before you had realised, you too had drifted to sleep. Only woken by a soft chiming of the bells from the Sept declaring that it was late at night, and a rather peculiar stiffness poking into your thigh.

Your eyelashes fluttered open, only to look down and see your husband, mouth slightly agape and sleeping peacefully. You realised what had happened, he had clearly brushed against you by accident and gotten aroused.

Trying to be respectful, you gently tried to move his head out of your lap. His eyes snapped open, blinking as he tried to place where he was.

“You look very beautiful when you sleep.” You blurted out softly as though scared he would bolt. His cheeks blushed a delicate shade of pink as he looked down and noticed his cock as though for the first time.

Scrambling out of your lap, he tried to cover himself with a pillow while cursing angrily with himself.

“I-it’s okay, you know.”

He froze, unsure of how to respond. So you decided not to let him.

“It happens to me too.” His eyebrows knit together in confusion as he was unsure if you were saying what he thought you were saying. That you also dreamed of him? And you felt the same attraction you denied yourself when awake?

“We don’t choose our thoughts when we dream. You must have been dreaming of a beautiful woman or an old lover perhaps.”

He frowned, if only you knew that it was you he wanted. Why had he pushed you away so much? Because he resented the lack of choice? Because he was so determined to despise anything related to his mother? The woman who had been so absent and cold towards him throughout his childhood, yet was unable to see why he drank and surrounded himself with whores to cope with the emptiness he felt.

You looked at him again, worried that you had somehow upset him. “You can go back to sleep, you know. I don’t mind.” You said, patting the cold space in your lap where he had been.

He smiled softly, and shyly lay back down.

How odd this man was, you thought. One moment he was fire and hatred but the next he seemed so lost and scared.

You started humming to yourself quietly as you again stroked his face. His eyes cracked open again.

“What is that song? It sounds familiar.”

“It’s just a song we sing to children in Old Town. My mother taught it to me so that maybe I could one day sing it to my own.”.

“It’s nice.” Aegon said gruffly and closed his eyes once more.

The rhythm and lyrics poured out of your mouth as you sang a nursery rhyme praising the child that grew in your belly, promising they would grow to be strong and that you were proud of him. It was an old song said to promote fertility and help form a bond through the womb.

Suddenly, you noticed something again poking into your lap as your husband blushed red with shame.

“M-mommy” he choked out in heaving gasps, his greasy hair wrapped around your fingers as you froze, tugging the roots sharply. The whimper of pain he released sounded almost like a moan and looking down you noticed the damp spot on his breeches.

Aegon jumped up as though he had been doused in icy water and backed up against the door. His chest falling and rising with small gasping hiccups.

You realised that this was probably the first time anyone had shown him the tenderness he so desperately craved, and that he had been seeking in the bottom of his cups and the bottoms of well, prostitutes. It was only natural that these feelings of shame had combined with arousal, and how he was attracted to the softness he had never known but always craved. You smiled kindly, reassuringly as if to let him know it was alright.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright,” you said speaking to him slowly with your hands reached out, as though you were tying to tame a horse rather than a king with serious mother issues. “You can call me whatever you need.”

His lips were still quivering as more tears leaked out of his eyes and caught on his round chin before trickling down below his shirt.

“I am so sorry.” He whispered, so faintly it took a few seconds to sink in.

“It’s alright.” you repeated.

“N-no, it’s not. The moment I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. But then I became aware of the comments about your resemblance to my mother and I became so angry and confused at how someone I could desire so much could resemble someone who hates me so.”

You froze. Then before you knew it you were up against the door, pinning him to the cold iron that seemed to only increase the heat between your bodies.

He looked into your eyes, and you slowly traced the tears that had fallen down his soft chin and placed your finger in your mouth. As if to show him you wanted all of him. His sadness, his love, his unease.

Your husband seemed to snap at the image of your plump mouth slowly sucking the finger inside and gripped the back of your head, as he wound his shaking fingers around your long wavy hair. The kiss was searing, harsh and longing as you seemed to fall down and down into the feelings you had been denying for so long.

His length was aching and hard against your thigh as you suddenly pulled yourself from his embrace. Breathing heavily, you moved to untie his breeches. But he surprised you yet again. And got down on his knees.

This time it was you pressed against the door, as he lifted your skirts hurriedly only to look up questioningly as though asking your permission.

“I know I’ve been a cunt. But I hope that I can show you how sorry I am.” He grinned broadly as he waited for your approval.

“It’s fine, Aegon. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Well, my wife you clearly don’t know me very well if you think I would find tasting your sweetness unpleasant. Let me make amends…With my tongue.”

As soon as your head let out a shaky nod, not sure whether to believe what was happening. He was back under your skirts. Licking and tasting like this was the first meal he had all day, knowing him it was probably the first that wasn’t liquid.

You had never felt such an intense pleasure before, never in your nights of touching yourself under your sheets, your shaking fist shoved in your mouth as you thought of the stories your ladies had told you of all the ways a man could please a woman. As you thought of how beautiful your husband had looked in his armour the day he was crowned, so unsure and so vulnerable. You really seemed to have a weakness for sad men. But mainly just him, just your husband who was licking and sucking at you as he deadly slipped his tongue between your folds.

You cried out as he slowly breached your entrance with his finger.

“Is this alright?” He said worriedly as he looked up for your approval.

“Of course, sweet boy.” And in response your husband groaned, deep and full. His efforts redoubled as he sought to press his fingers inside at you at the point your inner walls started to crumble and be torn down by his efforts. Crying out in ecstasy, you collapse to the floor. His head still in your hands as he looked up at you adoringly, chin glistening with your release as he proudly smirked and wiped it off with the back of his hand.

You sat there together. On the floor for a moment. As you thought of how misunderstood the man who rested his head in the crook of your neck was. At how he loved you, every part of you. Even the parts that resembled his mother. Because maybe with at was what he needed. To see a version of himself, reflected in yourself as kindness. And maybe he wasn’t afraid anymore. Of loving you so entirely.

You smiled at him softly as he panted into your shoulder and you noticed how the hardness in his breeches had only grown fiercer and more pulsing.

“May I?”, you spoke, gazing into his eyes and now he was the one who was shy as he nodded gently.

Reaching into his trousers, you took his cock in your hands. “Pretty.” You could not help yourself say. You worriedly glanced at your husband only to find his face bright red yet again. He pulsed in your hands and you realised what he needed. What he had been denied for so long.

“Such a good boy.” You murmured into his neck. The reaction was instant, his head burrowed further into your chest as he moaned low and unashamed.

“You’re doing so well. Being such a perfect boy for me. So so pretty.”

He latched on to your breast, yanking them out of your gown fiercely as he began to suck harshly on your nipples. You moaned, as you increased your efforts on his aching red cock.

“You’re a good man, Aegon.” You choked out between sighs, “You’d be such a good father to our children, I’d be honoured to be their mother.”At these words, your husband pulsed furiously and exploded into your palm.

Shaking from pleasure, he again rested his head in your lap. Looking up at you as though you were still strangers and he was still shy, despite his tongue having been inside your cunt moments before.

“D-did you mean that?”

“Mean what?”

“That I’d be a good father. That you’d want to have children with me.”

“Of course. I couldn’t think of anything I’d want more. Stop denying yourself the love you want to give and receive, from me, from any children we may have.”

He smiled at this, like the sun was breaking across a clouded sky. Like he was seeing what his lifecould be for the first time.

“Well.” Your husband grinned; “I think we should start trying to make children more productively.”As he again pushed you to the floor, both of you laughing and smiling as he kissed you again and again.

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd smut #fluff and smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon x you

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asumofwords · 6 months

Text

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband.

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement.

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven.

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily.

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe.

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him.

Need him.

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony.

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been.

A Valaryian.

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware.

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully.

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers.

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body.

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband.

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours.

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare.

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother.

And so the ceremony began.

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago.

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced, “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen.

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table.

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement.

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in.

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand.

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her.

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it.

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear.

You swallowed thickly.

Of course you did.

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more.

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.”

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup.

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.”

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice.

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin.

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage.

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that.

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come.

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him.

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose.

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth.

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond.

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes.

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke.

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.”

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?”

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended.

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it.

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony.

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother.

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet.

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony.

Your blood ran cold.

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother.

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince.

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy.

Almost.

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin.

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head.

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down.

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him.

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips.

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning.

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him.

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors.

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you.

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before.

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room.

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone.

Your heart skipped in your chest.

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision.

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck.

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly.

Angrily.

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear.

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him.

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips.

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help.

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to.

But no help came.

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word.

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin.

You would not show weakness.

You would be strong.

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent.

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness.

But he didn’t.

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid.

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers.

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.”

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled.

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.”

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed.

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave.

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him.

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly.

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan.

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks.

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound.

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements.

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience.

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement.

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?”

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down.

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before.

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched.

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face.

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded.

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides.

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had.

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open.

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above.

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.”

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you.

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing.

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear.

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck.

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once.

It was overwhelming.

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust.

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering.

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him.

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat.

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?”

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed.

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside.

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face.

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt.

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole.

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you.

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades.

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you.

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer.

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given.

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer.

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought.

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man.

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him.

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge.

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant.

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial.

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more.

It was wrong.

But Gods did you need it.

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner.

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up.

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed.

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest.

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done.

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly.

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.”

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine.

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one.

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

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sour-leminies · 2 months

Text

My little Fairy

Pairing: Hook x Fairy F!Reader

Summary: Coming to Merlin Acadamy you grew very close to the pirate with a hook. Everyone had declared you Hook's pirate Fairy. Truth be told, most people couldn't believe how loyal and caring you were to the pirate. So, when you finally snap, for the first time in a long time James didn't have you by his side, and all he knew was he wanted you back. Now.

Warnings: None I can think of, but let me know otherwise.

Taglist: @astrynyx @snixx2088 @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm Just ask to be tagged!

Navigation — other works!

I watched as Bridget and her friends all danced around the court yard - singing and dancing. It was sickening, they were so sweet and yet I couldn't help the part of me that yearned for that kind of friendship.

My only friend was Captain Hook, and if given the chance I'm positive he would have ditched me long ago if not for my help with things. Whenever he wasn't prepared for a test, I'd skip my own class to be in my smaller form tucked away in his shirt - telling him the answers. Or whoever he wanted me to spy on one of his victims he terrorized, I'd do so. Or when he wanted pixie dust, etc. The point was, I'd give my soul for Captain James Hook, and I don't even think he sees me as a friend.

Snapping out of my haze I landed on James's shoulder, whispering in his ear - telling him how Bridget was in the courtyard being all happy. A message he hurried to tell Uliana, before he made his way to the spot. I was still on his shoulder as he entered the courtyard with a dramatic flair.

I remained on his shoulder as he sang and danced, until Uliana turned into a flamingo. Something I couldn't help but smile at. Part of me was jealous of Uliana, and her relationship with James. It looked more intimate than his with Maleficent.

I pulled James through a different door, Maleficent following after us - and we cut the girls off. I now rested on Maleficent Horns. I let out a gasp, that came out like a jingle.

The Vk's all retreated once Uliana ran away - screaming and soaking wet. At least she was no longer a flamingo.

Once everyone cooled down, I was now in my human form laying on my bed, dressed in a nice pretty black dress. My makeup and hair had been done and all I had to do was wait for Hook to get here so we could go to that birthday dinner he promised me.

"Still no Hook?" Maleficent - who was also my roommate asked me. "No, you would think he'd show by now. I mean he's twenty minutes late." I praised the lord that my voice didn't come out as jingles when in my human form. Annoyingly so, only other Faires and James could understand me when I was in my smaller size.

"I hate to say this," my roommate spoke as she sat onto my bed with me. "But maybe he forgot."

I quickly shook my head. No way - he promised me. He had promised. He wouldn't forget me.

Slowly the hours ticked by and by the time it struck eight, two hours after the time we agreed on, Maleficent forced me up, and her hand Hades took me to dinner.

I wanted to cry, but how could I? Just because I love him, doesn't mean he loves me. At that very moment I accept that cold hard truth.

So as Maleficent rubbed my arm, and Hades even pat my head - I had decided that I would stop trying with Hook, it'll never happen anyways.

—

Over the next few days you ignored Hook. You hadn't made the first move to talk to him, and it seemed he had nothing he wanted you to do for him.

When the third day of you ignoring him he grew antsy. He didn't know what the sudden change in you was, but for some very odd reason - he didn't like it.

He walked out of detention - Something he had gotten when he was caught breaking in Merlin's office. His very first thought was that you weren't there. Typically, when he'd get detention - if you didn't sit in there with him in his jacket, then you'd always greet him with a hug once he walked out the doors.

"Yo, Mali." He called out to the mistress of evil. "You heading to your room?"

The dark fairy nodded her head silently, and James took that as an invitation to walk her to her room. Even though he would never admit it, the real reason was so he could check on his little fairy. The one he was now growing worried about.

—

You jumped at the sound of the door opening. Looking up from the books you were reading on your bed, you were surprised to see Maleficent, but also James.

"Hook." You spoke, but kept your voice neutral.

The man couldn't help but flinch at the name you used. You never called him that, you always either used Captain or James. Now he knew somethings wrong.

"We need to talk." Came his short reply, but you weren't dumb, you could see the slow anger bubbling up in his eyes.

You slowly got off your bed, and walked out into the hallway with him. "What's the problem?" You were honestly he hadn't already listed things he wanted done, but you were sure he'd start soon.

"The problem? You tell me. You suddenly ignore me, I haven't seen you in three days - but I know good and well Hades has. So you fucking tell me the problem." His voice was slowly growing louder and louder.

"Hey calm down." You tried to keep your guy's voice quiet - but that only set him off more.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm when you vanished. You were gone." Suddenly both of you stopped. You both could hear the hurt, the insecurity, but most importantly the fear laced in his tone. His chest breathed up and down heavily as he realized just how much he bloody missed you.

"Listen, Hook." "James."

He took a step closer to you, slightly pushing you into the wall as he pushed into you, leaning down to breath you in.

Fuck he felt like an addict who needed a hit, and finally scratched that itch under their skin.

"You call me James." His breath fanned over your face, as he slightly leaned up to get a look at your face.

Part of you loved this, as you placed your hands onto his chest, the open part of his shirt so you both could feel the skin to skin contact.

For James it was like your touch awakened something in him. Something that called for your name. Something in him burned for you.

He leaned down, his breath fanning over your lips. Making you close your eyes in anticipation. Hook didn't was a single second. He dropped his hook from his hand, and placed it onto your cheek, while his other hand grabbed a hold of the back of your neck.

You in this moment couldn't deny you loved this - the feel of his lips on yours, the feel of his wanting you. But it was too late.

He had made it clear that you weren't a priority. And even though bread crumbs of his affection felt like a feast - it wasn't enough. You hand to stand up, You deserve better. Something that Captain hook couldn't give you.

You built your strength and pushed him away. "No."

Hook looked at you confused, did you not just feel what happened between the two of you? Because he was more than happy to give a repeat.

"I deserve better than you." You pushed him again, finally letting the tears out. Letting the tears out of a woman who wanted nothing more than the man she was crying over. "I deserve so much more than what you give me." Which was nothing. You pushed him again and this time he grabbed both your hand and pulled you into him, letting you hit him over and over until you were drained - but never letting go of you.

"You done?" You glared up and him through your pretty wet eyelashes. "Good. Now listen. You will have no one other than me. There will be no other man, woman, I don't give a fuck. Your my little fairy." You went to shake you head. No - maybe once you were his but not anymore.

"You don't even make a priority - how can you say that?" Your voice was horse from the mini break down you had while punching him.

"You are my priority." How could you say you weren't? Even when he though nothing of you, from the first moment he met you he had put you as a priority on his list.

"Ask me about how I spent my birthday three days ago." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

You could see the panic cross his face. The regret and self loathing as well. And maybe once upon a time that would be enough, but not anymore.

You pulled yourself away from him and hurried into your room, locking the door.

He banged a couple time before he spoke through the wood.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry. Sorry can't even explain, let me make it up to you." When he got no response from he, he continued on. "I am sorry about this but we will move past it. Just remember you may think you are free of me, but your are not. I will haunt you, beg for your forgiveness. You want better - I'll be better."

You silently cried while Hook poured everything he had from his heart into his next words.

"I'll be so much fucking better for you, my little fairy. So better."

—

The rest of the entire week, Hook would try his best; he'd bring flowers to you in the morning, he'd always walk you to class - despite how much you told him to leave you alone.

James knew he screwed up, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know what he had and he took it for granted.

He would scowl at Hades and Maleficent when you all were hanging out at the black lagoon.

Just because you and hook were on shaky ground didn't mean you were no less a Vk. Something that the crew grew to respect about you.

Every time you walked past him - not giving him a glance, he felt his chest tighten. He miss how you would cling to him. How you would rest on your shoulder when you felt over stimulated. The way you would accidently spray him with pixie dust, causing him to float.

He missed teaching you sword fighting, and all the basics. He missed you.

"Y/N!" He called out to you, desprate to get your attention. For the first time, since that kiss you didn't glare at him - nor push him away.

Instead it was worse. He felt his stomach grow cold at the neutral and emotionless look in your eyes. At least when you hated him you still cared. Now he didn't know. Your walls were up so high - it's shadow could darken a valley.

"Yes Hook?" He closed his eyes, shaking off the feeling he had.

"First, it's James. Second, will you go to dinner with me." You opened your mouth to disagree but he covered it before you could make a sound.

"Don't say no." He could hear his heart pounding in his head. "Just come. Meet me at Dip and Go dinner tonight at eight."

He dropped his hand from your mouth, and he found his courage to speak his next words.

"If you don't come I'll leave you alone." He would not, but he needed to know that deep down he still had a chance. And if he didn't have one then he would spend the rest of his life fighting for one.

He walked away, nervous for the reality check that he would soon face tonight.

—

The clock on your dorm wall ticked, and ticked. Each second growing closer to eight. The diner was an hour away and if you were to make it in time you should be leaving now.

But you just couldn't. You were too afraid. You weren't a fool, you could tell James was sorry, and regretful, but you didn't know if you could trust him.

He had unknowingly held your heart - and then crushed it. What would he do if he had known how much you cared for him? Would he treat you different?

"You should go." You looked over to the dark fairy, you had thought she was out with Hades.

"I'm scared." You had once thought James was your only friend, but Maleficent and even her boyfriend proved me wrong. "That's what makes it worth it."

She walked over to your bed, sitting down beside me before she carried on. "If you even have a chance for love then it's worth it to fight. And if you decide that he's not worth it, then at the very least you owe it to yourself to find closure." Maybe she was right.

—

Hook glanced at the clock on the wall of the diner, it said eight forty, and he knew that she wasn't going to show. He blew his shot. He wanted to throw the glass Infront of him, the one where he poured rum into it.

He had decided to dress nicely, wore his best clothing, even left his hook at home. He wanted to look his best for you - to show you he could be a good guy for you.

He had already paid for his drink, so he left a twenty bill on the table and walked out. He would wait longer, but he could tell the employees had wanted him out.

He felt like he couldn't breathe as he walked down the path, he wanted to take you on. The trees lit up with beautiful fireflies at night, and it was a view he wanted to share with you.

His vision blurred, and his chest breathed up and down, as his heart ached, pounded. He had no problems with ripping his heart out for you, but fuck, all he needed was you. He felt like a fool - not because you didn't show, but because he was too self-absorbed and if he had opened his eyes from the beginning thing would be different.

He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings. He knew that he could never have you, simply because you were his happy ending.

He stopped walking, as he tried to calm his heart with his shaking hands. Was he having a panic attack?

"James!" He heard your voice scream out his name, as you started to run to him. Fuck, he didn't care if he was dying as he ran to you with all the speed he could muster.

Once you were at arm's length you jumped into him, and he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could. Loving the smell that invaded his senses with open arms.

You were late, he didn't know why, nor did he care. You were here with him. That single thought caused him to break. He couldn't hold onto his sobs anymore.

He thought he lost you because of himself. He thought he would spend his entire life alone - longing for the feel of you. He thought that truly lost you. Every part of him rejected that. He couldn't live with that.

He felt his knees start to weaken as he fell to the ground, you still in his arms and he clanged to you crying. You felt your heart break once again - and all you wanted was for your pirate to feel better. You kiss the top of his head, rubbing his back as he let all his fears out, all his emotions.

"I... I love you so so so much." He heaved out, his breath making him repeat. "And I'm... I'm sorry." He was and even you knew that. You were tired as well.

You pulled his face away from your neck, and for a moment he fought you - thinking you were once again going to push him away. You rubbed you thumb across his cheek as you looked into his beautiful eyes. His brown eyes were bloodshot red from the crying, and his eyeliner had started to smidge. His eyelashes soaking together, his lips trembling as he tried to get himself together.

"I forgive you." You whispered out, before pushing your lips against his soft, and wet ones. It was a small, and short kiss, but it was full of the love you had for him. The love he felt like he no longer deserved.

"I'm sorry." His voice came out like a while as more tears dropped from his eyes.

"I forgive you." You whispered once again, and this time he initiated the kiss. Soft, craving, and you could feel his sorrow. Despite the fact he was kissing you, you could still feel him begging for forgiveness.

"I love you." You told him, and while that's all he wanted to hear. He no longer felt like that was the case. How could you love him when he hated everything about himself? How could you forgive him, when he's still kicking his own ass.

"I love you two, my little fairy." Fuck his voice broke again as he rested his forehead against yours. You also couldn't help but cry as well.

—

James kept his promise. He did become better for you, and only you. He was still a villain, but he was a gentleman to you. He kissed you every time he saw you, gave you flowers every month when your old ones would die.

He did everything he could to become a good enough person for you, and while daily you'd reassure him how happy you are - he couldn't get your heartbroken face out of his mind.

He'd have nightmares of you leaving him all alone. You loved him, and he didn't feel worthy of it, but he'd be damned of someone else had it. He was still a villain.

The first moment where he finally felt okay to breath was when you told him the future you wanted with him. You had wanted a future with him. Him.

You wanted three kids, three girls, and you would love to watch him become a father as you all lived on his ship.

When you were all banished to the Isle of the lost, he hated himself for getting you stuck there, but you'd remind him you'd rather be with him then in some land without him.

When you first got pregnant, he couldn't help but be so joyous of the boy in your stomach. He never told you he wanted a son, but you knew so you also felt happy.

You had named him Harry, after James repeatedly told you he couldn't think of one. The second born was a girl, and you demanded he named her. So, he stole your idea and named her Harriet. Then on the final and last born, you told him he couldn't name your baby girl after he just stole Harry's name and gave it to his sister.

You, James, Harry, Harriet, and CJ lived on hook's ship. And despite the living conditions, you loved your family no less.

—

A/N: Hiii, if you see this and sent me an Elsa reader x Hook request I promise I am working on that!!

#decendents #hook #hook decendents #hook x reader #decendents x reader #james hook #decendents masterlist #james hook masterlist #james hook x reader #captain hook #captain hook x reader #captain James Hook #rise of red

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yurinabluu · 12 days

Text

🔹1. Watching from afar

synopsis- Break-up of the it couple of the university was surely shocking for everyone but yu jimin didn't care. She knew it was right to do as she was in love with somebody else. Precisely her ex's bestfriend.

“Yu Jimin is unreal.”

“She is probably the most gorgeous woman ever like have you seen her.”

“And so talented as well. This is the third time she has won the gold for our uni in swimming. God really has his favourites, isn't it?”

You roamed around the campus making your way towards your lockers while yu jimin praise entered your ears. It wasn’t really surprising. Yu Jimin surely was one of a kind. Not only insanely beautiful but extremely talented and astoundingly kind and gentle despite her infamous status as an it girl with a rbf.

Of course everyone liked her. No doubt everyone dreamt to be somehow related to her. As a friend or something more. She is like some untouchable prize. Desired by all but won by none. Maybe won by one. Your bestfriend Ryujin.

You remember it quite vivdly how ryujin was literally jumping with happiness when she had told you last year during Christmas how she finally ‘bagged yu jimin’. To be honest, you hated how she worded it. Bagged yu jimin like she isn’t a human but some object. But you stayed quiet. You kept quiet because your bestfriend finally got the girl she was courting for past 8 months.

Who were you lying to?

You kept quiet because you were heartbroken. You were heartbroken because your bestfriend got the girl you were in love with since high school. The same girl you had loved for five fucking years. Maybe if you had built some courage and confessed to her. Maybe it would have been you and not Ryujin.

Maybe…..

“Hey! You are here. I was searching for you all around the campus.”

Coming out of your thoughts, you looked at Ryujin , being all sweaty and that smirk of hers plastered on her lips as usual.

“What is it?” You asked nonchalantly.

“I have decided to court jimin again.”

Your eyes, void with any emotions, met hers. You knew it was of no use. Ryujin was just wasting her time on someone who clearly didn’t care about her anymore.

You remember meeting a crying Ryujin 3 months later after her confession on Christmas. That was probably the first time you had seen Ryujin crying and not with the usual grin she always greets you with. You don’t remember all the details but you do remember Ryujin telling you how Jimin dumped her between her cries. You would be lying if you’d say you weren’t shocked.

Your bestfriend and Jimin were the it couple of the university. Everyone adored them, saying how they were meant to be together one day. How they were just the best for each other. It did break your heart a bit but they weren’t actually wrong. Captain of the volleyball team and Captain of the swimming team together was definitely a treat.

So it was surely shocking how they broke up just after 3 months of dating. But the most appalling was the reason of their break up.

YU JIMIN WAS IN LOVE WITH SOMEBODY ELSE!!!

Just like everyone, you were also shocked. Was there really someone better than Ryujin? Only jimin could answer that. She was not someone stupid to leave Ryujin only for a passing crush. It must be serious to her.

You didn’t exactly knew much about Jimin. Despite being in the same class as her in high school and meeting her few times when Ryujin dragged you along with her on her dates with jimin, you didn’t really had a conversation with her.

Like Jimin , Ryujin was extremely popular among students. You weren’t any different from them. While Ryujin was popular for her charming and flirty self, you were famous for your godly looks and unapproachable aura. Being the vice-captain of volleyball, your sporty and athletic self was popular as well. Some admired while some despised how self-confident you were. Desired by both men and women, you definitely were a eye-candy.

But it was also a mystery how your self- confidence betrayed you everytime you were near yu jimin. The power she had over you was another mystery in itself.

You remember tagging along with Ryujin to one of her dates with Jimin. Ryujin had told you Jimin wanted to meet you. You obviously did not believe her. You also recall Jimin’s surprised stance when she saw you beside Ryujin. As if she was not expecting you to show up there.

Your eyes met her surprised ones carrying along emotions you couldn’t decipher. She definitely did not wanted you there. You cursed Ryujin internally.

Despite not wanting you at the date or as you believed, Jimin ,being the kind woman she is, tried to strike a conversation with you multiple times that day , earning only hums and uninterested mumbles from you.

If she did not hated you before, she certainly despised you now.

“What do you think?”

“About what?” You replied to Ryujin after taking a bite from your food while sitting beside her in university’s cafeteria.

“About courting jimin again dummy.” Ryujin replied.

“I don’t know what to say. Jimin broke up with you and clearly doesn’t care about you anymore. I guess you should let her go now Ryujin.”

“You are my bestfriend. Shouldn’t you be taking my side?”

“That’s what I am doing. I don’t want you to get hurt and cry like that again. You ruined my favourite hoodie that day with your tears and snot.”

“Shut- up jackass. Don’t ever mention that day again.” Ryujin grumbled lowly earning a chuckle from you.

“Anyways I have decided. Come-on do you really believe that being in love with somebody else thing. She clearly lied or just got nervous about our relationship. Like name someone better than me who have the charm and looks to steal Jimin’s heart.

“Y/n”

You looked behind at the source of voice calling your name.

You noticed your coach standing at a distance , motioning with her forefinger to meet her at the volleyball court.

“Just a minute coach.” You shouted and immediately stood up while carrying your belongings.

“I don’t agree with what you are planning to do Ryu but please take of yourself and make sure not to hurt you and Jimin in the process.”

Ryujin nodded at your words frivolously making you sigh.

“Alright see you later.” You bid her bye and made your way towards the court when you noticed Yu Jimin looking as beautiful as ever. You felt your heart skipping a beat when you heard her laugh over something Aeri, her bestfriend said.

Composing yourself, you took your eyes off her and left the cafeteria , not noticing a certain someone’s gaze on your retreating figure,filled with longing and love.

“When do you plan to confess your feelings to her or are you just going to spend all your life watching her from afar?”

Jimin looked at Aeri flashing a hurtful smile to her.

“She doesn’t feel the same Aeri.”

_________________________________________

Taglist ( open) -

* I don't know what's wrong with Tumblr but it's not allowing me to tag anyone. I'm sorry to those who had requested to join the taglist. I will try to do it later. As of now , please enjoy the first chapter and do express your thoughts to me 😊

#aespa #aespa karina #aespa x reader #karina #karina x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #itzy #itzy ryujin

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wiirocku · 2 years

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Psalm 100:4 (NIV) - Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name.

#Psalm 100:4 #enter #His gates #thanksgiving #His courts #praise #give #thanks #to Him #praise His name

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tom4jc · 1 year

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September 3, 2023 Verse Of The Day

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#Bless His Name #courts #Enter #gates #Give Thanks #Praise #Psalm 100:4 #Thanksgiving #Verse of the Day

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thevirtualvalentine · 3 months

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Challengers

Plot: three young tennis stars find themselves in a sticky love triangle, or, satosugu x reader x Challengers!au, but if you were tashi and had stayed in the hotel room that night in 2006.

Warnings: threesomes (mfm), afab!reader, competitiveness, cunnilings, handjobs n’ oral, switch!gojo, fingering, porn with plot, missionary prince gojo, doggy king geto, they both have a massive crush on reader, banter, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms.

authors notes: I got super carried away and it’s such a long read (6.6k), enjoy! 😇

There was one thing two of these complete opposites could agree on. Y/n L/n was the sexiest tennis player either of them had ever seen. On and off the court.

Satorus' big bright eyes stared at your recent brand campaign on social media in awe as he scrolled through his phone during downtime before practice.

“Can you believe that? Look at this Su” Satoru shows his friend in utter disbelief like you just cheated on him or something. His eyes haven’t left his screen in over five minutes, he looks pained yet fascinated knowing you have no idea who he is. Additionally, he’s oddly defensive over his phone even though he offered to show the raven-haired male.

“Like she’d fuck with a guy like you,” Suguru mumbles quietly under his breath in annoyance, rolling his eyes and leaning further into his stretch. Sometimes he wishes Satoru took this a little bit more seriously considering upcoming dates.

While their favorite thing to talk about outside of tennis was you, they had serious work to do before an upcoming competition that the two of them would be competing in.

“But you know, Masamichi said we got invited to a party of hers before the match..” Satoru makes his way to the lined court, serving some while waiting for his companion.

“Shut up and just do your drills Satoru,” Suguru muses while grabbing his racket, making a face while returning a stray ball right at the white-haired man. He quickly ties his long hair back in a low ponytail before gearing up for practice.

“Ouchie!! Suguru be careful where you aim those,” he pouts, running frantically around the court before dramatically grabbing the net to state his grievances. He can only hear his partner darkly laugh with his back turned to him. Suguru has always had a tendency to be a meanie!

But, before they went to your party, they had wanted to watch you play a match in the exact upcoming competition. Suguru was the most inquisitive to see your infamous backhand the press can’t seem to shut up about in various headlines. Satoru would never pass up the opportunity to see you in motion.

Later that week at the match, the two of them arrive together and wave off various paparazzi looking for interviews before finding their seats. “Look look— is that her?” Satoru voices as you enter the court, they’re watching from their meticulously purchased stand seats as a woman with dark skin and a matching set begins to stretch. Your long curly hair is pulled back in a keen style as you showcase your limber frame.

“Unbelievable,” Suguru cannot ignore the sly smirk that graces Gojo's face as he observes you. There were visible glimmers in his friend's blue eyes that clearly shone for you.

Suguru isn’t sure if he’s jealous about it all, but he interjects nevertheless. “Again, like she’d want you over me.”

The match commences with your serve. The two of them instantaneously manspread in their seats, gazes glued to your every movement. You had absolute domineering control of the court, causing your opponent to run around like a chicken with her head cut off. Even as the ball was smashed to either side of the court, their yearning was fixated on Y/n L/n, the tennis prodigy.

During a particularly electrified set, Suguru rests his hand on Satoru's thigh. He can feel the stiffness of his friends' pants, he recognizes it because of his own growingly awkward condition. Fuck, he knew they were both whipped as they exhaled a long-held breath simultaneously. Neither of them realized they’d been holding it while watching you in the first place.

You ultimately win the match, exclaiming your victory boldly. “Come on!” Satoru doesn’t know if there’s a word for it, smitten maybe? Gobsmacked? Horny? Is he in love? He doesn’t know. He just knows you’re beautiful in that moment, emulating your joy with a smile of his own.

Later on that day, a party was held in one of your family's villas, the two of them couldn’t help themselves from gawking at all the decorations dedicated to you. Their jaws were practically on the floor seeing precisely how successful you were. Satoru’s dick hurt with how hard it was sitting in his pants, khakis aren’t really great for boners.

The duo finds you on the dance floor with your friends, a nice fitting electric blue dress hugs your curvy body while you sway and dance to the beat. It’s effortless, “wooow,” Suguru says downing his bitter drink. They’re not doing excellently to camouflage themselves with hard-pointed gazes, just standing there watching you at a nearby event table.

Their attire pales in comparison to yours, simple slacks with a nice suitable polo. Colors befitting the two of them respectively. Satoru sporting a pretty pale blue shirt and Suguru in muted navy (no doubt stolen from Satoru). You see the two of them watching you, but you don’t really mind. You know they’ll find their way over to you eventually.

In fact, it doesn’t take long. They scamper up to you in a hurry when they spot you sitting down to take a drink in a less densely populated area of the party.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man with short white hair and big bright blue eyes conveys.

“Suguru Geto,” the one with mysterious allure and long black hair articulated.

But, it comes out indistinguishable as they decide to speak in unison. “Yin and Yang, I know you two.” You take an interlude to catch your breath and sip your drink. Their hungry eyes track your hasty mouth to the straw with a similar thirst.

“So, which ones which?” they gulp, but Suguru is eager to bite first.

“Guess,” and it comes out how you would imagine. Flirtatious with a dynamism of sarcasm, you can spot the growing shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“Your match today was incredible, it was like an entirely different game. I almost felt bad for Mei Mei” Truthfully, in his heart of hearts, Satoru Gojo cannot and will not be beat. Not even by his best friend. His pride runs too deep to face a reality in which he does not win.

You look down at your hands and smile before replying to him, soaking in the compliment. Just like a flower, he thinks you’re beautiful. “Thank you, but don’t she’s a freak, honestly. You should hear the rumors about her and her little brother.”

Suguru almost spits his booze across the small table, he didn’t think you of all people would be the one to say such gossip. Beautiful, athletic, and very witty. He likes it, at least that’s what he’s concluded.

“Hey, come hang out with us down by the beach later. Do you smoke?” He has also decided that he’d act upon his feelings. What’s the worst that could happen? Getting to spend time with you would be fun.

“Uh,” you dart your eyes between them considering your options, “Yeah, sure. I’ll come by.” Not a moment sooner though, your parents call you over to oversee some of your financial business partners at the party. You are whisked away by eager hands, quickly forgetting about the two of them as they’re left to watch you mingle with a sense of want in their chest.

“She totally wants me,” Satoru says full of blind confidence, not even bothering to look at his friend to confirm his thoughts.

And again, there’s that sparkle in Satoru’s eyes. “For the final time, like it’s you she wants. She was obviously flirting with me.” He is always full of fire and smacks the back of Satorus' neck in compensation.

Later on, when most of the attendees have trickled out one by one, the pair finds themselves plotting incessantly once more. Neither of them is able to help themselves in their delusions, discussing to share you like pieces of pie.

“Still here?” You say when you find them sitting off to the side by their lonesome. They always seem to be together, attached at the hip like a husband and husband.

“We were waiting for you. Come down to the beach with us.” Even though it was a question, one which you didn’t have to answer, Suguru's raging confidence speaks volumes making it a statement. smooth, a little too smooth.

You look back once more at your surroundings to ensure your family didn’t need you for any pictures, it would be awkward if they found out you were sneaking around with two guys. Yet, you indulge them, “Uh,” hesitation finds you biting down on your bottom lip slightly, “Sure.” you say, shaking any negative thoughts from your head. this was a party after a great win today, go have fun.

As a trio once more, the three of you make your way to the grainy shores, doing your best to avoid steep drops. Both of them engaging you in conversation simultaneously, almost talking over each other with their boyish charm. “One at a time please, I can’t understand you both when you talk like that,” you say with a huff, sitting down on a dry rock while the twins find themselves perched in chairs.

Soft waves scurry against the sand in droves painting a scenic backdrop for your conversation against the dark blue sky littered with stars. Suguru lights a smoke and the sparks ignite the air around him. He offers it to you and doesn't mind your inevitable rejection. You do have an image he supposes.

“Lemme ask you something,” he says huffing smoke, passing his cigarette to Satoru. You nod, letting your body face the water as the unclear and mysterious man talks.

“What’s your angle about the whole Jujutsu College thing, you’re too good for the collegiate league.” His eyes find yours, awaiting your answer as he leans further back into his seat.

Satoru, unlike his friend, knows the value of education. He also knows you’ll be attending the same institute as him to play tennis alongside your studies.

You answer him in a smooth tone, sure of your answer, “It has classes y’know. I don’t want my only life skill to be hitting a ball with a racket.” Despite the will of Mother Nature, neither of them could hear the sound of the waves over their heartbeats. Hearing you tell them exactly how it is makes them admire you as a player even more.

“I get it, you’re making us wait for you.” He finds himself grinning lightly. “The tennis phenomenon who cares about her education.” You’re exactly the woman they knew you’d be. Smart, cunning, and ambitious. There’s nothing you couldn’t do, and there’s absolutely nothing that could make either of them want you more in that moment. Satoru drones out the rest of your conversation as Suguru gets into morals and life goals on the ethics of tennis.

Satoru takes this time to really study you. He notes the smoothness of your skin, the enunciation of your collarbones through your strapless dress, and the silver hoops that dangle from your ears and sway with every word you say. He can feel himself almost begin to salivate and glow red.

“It’s a relationship,” you assert. That’s when Satoru has half a mind to pay attention again to the conversation instead of ogling you. Suguru has seemed to hit a nerve with you about whatever you were discussing.

“Is that what you and Mei Mei had today? A relationship?” Suguru throughout his career has found himself asking these confounding questions. Wanting to know the true essence of why he plays his sport. Your conversation and mind have intrigued him, he’s going to push you further just for the sake of intelligent conversation.

“Yes, it was like we were in love like we were the only ones there. Maybe somewhere far away.” Still confused, he wants to chatter more but Satoru seems quick on the uptake.

“When you yelled,” the gears in his mind flip to that exact moment during the match when you hit the winning shot. It was electrifying and infectious.

You’re touched he was able to examine your game like that. “Yeah,” you smile at him tenderly over your shoulder. Maybe they both weren’t so bad, a bit rough around the edges you suppose. “Okay, I gotta go before my parents need me. I’ll see you at school Satoru,” you reveal while grabbing your shoes and patting the sand off your dress.

“Do you have Facebook?” Suguru interjects before you can disappear into the night, only to be seen in another brand campaign on their phone before practice. If he didn't seize this chance, when would there be another opportunity?

“What?” You dig your heels in the sand and spin around to face them. There is a moment of silence as the wind gently blows your long curls into your lipgloss.

Satoru decides he’ll be brave too. “He’s asking for your number, and so am I.”

“You both want my number?” A look of incredulity transits your face at the implication. A pair of best friends, seemingly more, who both want you? It seems a little far-fetched.

“Yes.” Quick, concise, unanimous.

“Ok, well, I’m not a home wrecker.” Whatever is happening between them, stays with them. Your eyes are on tennis and your future.

“Whatttt, nooo. It’s an open relationship. Come hang out with us later. We’re at the same hotel. Room 206.” Satoru proposes to lighten the mood. Suguru only chuckles in his chair at your words, coughing up pools of smoke in the process. What a dope.

“Bye,” is all you leave them with, making your way back up the beach to your party with your friends and family. You can audibly hear boo’s following you from the shore from the two boys.

after leaving the party, the two make their way back to the hotel. Coming up with new ideas on how to win your affections. Going as far as to stake their match tomorrow on it. The room's AC had been broken since the two boys got there. Suguru needed the window open anyway if he was going to smoke.

“So, what are the odds you think she’s coming?” Satoru asks for the sixth time this hour alone. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers feeling the heat, he's lying upside down on the bed observing Suguru chucking cards into the trash can in between punching the AC unit in hopes of it working. They’ve shared a few drinks between the two of them while yearning desperately in their shared hotel room.

Suguru, in typical fashion matching his friend, dons a shirt of his Satorus' with boxers. “She’s not coming,” he says with a mix of disappointment and longing as a way to console himself. Perhaps the two of them had glazed it on too strong.

“Besides, if she came how would that even work? Do we just wait till she kisses one of us and kicks the other out?” The thoughts that have been plaguing his mind now reside in the blue-eyed beauty’s.

Then, three knocks at the door rouse them from their depressive slump, they eye one another to confirm what they both just heard. Had you really come? With another three knocks the adrenaline starts pumping gas.

Fuck. Dumb and dumber run to clean the room, throwing the all cards in the trash can, straightening up the bed sheets, and most importantly putting on a proper pair of pants and a shirt. They practically trip over one another to open the door.

“Hey!” But Geto’s just a little faster.

“Again with the speaking in unison thing. Stop it.” You had been listening to them clamber around in there before opening the door. they laugh before showing you around the room and settling down in a circle on the ground.

“So, did you guys like grow up together?” They snicker and laugh with each other as you join them on the carpeted floor in conversation. “What! I just mean, it seems like you guys are brothers,” you say correcting yourself a little nervously. Now that you’re alone with the two of them it’s all setting in. Your eyes catch their adam's apple as they talk, the bobbing making you swallow hard.

“Well, we went to boarding school together. Been bunk mates since we were 12 years old. That kind of thing.” Suguru answers your question as an excuse to eye you longer. Tiny black shorts strangling your muscular thighs, a hot pink zip-up jacket with probably nothing underneath it, and you have your long natural curls flowing down your back and face. You’re just so tantalizing no matter what you’re in, and he’s sure Satoru feels the same way.

“Oh, and how often does this happen?” You pause, sitting up on your knees making your hips extra plush as you query, “Going after the same girl?”

Yin and yang eye each other before answering as if in deep thought, “Never.”

“Not as often as you’d think. We usually have different types” Truthfully, they wanted to sound sincere.

“Oh, so should I feel special?” but that honesty stung nonetheless. While they didn’t mean to, it came off a bit rude. Why even entertain these two freaks in the first place?

Satoru answers your question to soften the mood, “Aren’t you everyone’s type?” he has a strange threshold of emotional intelligence, more than Suguru. That's what you like about him though, his eyes that see everything.

Both of their stares pining you in place, while they are nice, you can sense a lingering intensity in their terminology. It ignited something in you, sending a tremble through your spine thinking of what they could do to you in the security of these four walls.

Your eyes flicker between the two of them but then fall on the bed, noting the fact the two once separate beds have been forced together. You face back to the pretty pair feeling the tension amidst you all reaching its climax.

“And what about the two of you,” your hands point back and forth trying to say the obvious without saying it. “I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Us?” They ask in unison almost comically. When they realize you’re dead serious they shut up and consider it for a second.

“Well..” Suguru starts, but Satoru stops.

A flush of red overtakes his face immediately, “no, Su, not that.”

He snickers to himself lightly in a teasing manner, but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Tell me please, I feel like you two at least owe me that.” You can practically feel yourself digging your nails into the skin of your palm in anticipation of their little secret.

“Fine. Ok.” The confession begins. “Suguru taught me how to jerk off when we were 12. I think I was a late bloomer or something,” he says avoiding eye contact still beet red from the neck up. It’s honestly kind of cute but you still find yourself giggling slightly.

Much to Satoru’s dismay, Suguru only joins in on the laughter. The white-haired man places his head between his knees trying to think of some sort of rebuttal in the middle of his embarrassment.

“Whatever, you wouldn’t be the one laughing if it happened to you.”

Suguru attempts to console him to no avail and you slam down the rest of his drink when he isn’t looking, wiping the excess off the corners of your mouth. Shitty beer never sits right with you, but if you were going to go through with your plan you’d need liquid courage.

Rising from the floor you place yourself in the middle of their pushed-together beds. Sitting with your legs crossed eyeing them both from the floor. “C’mere,” you say softly, patting the bed to signal their attention.

Like a moth to a flame, they scurry over, settling themselves on either side of you.

You can feel the heat radiating from them just by being sandwiched between them, their knees confining yours. Their torsos completely turned to face you, waiting to see what you’ll do. Neither of them could face your rejection, who are you going to pick?

You lean towards Suguru giggling, twirling the hair that lays on his shoulder around your fingers. His face light pink as he looks at you expectantly, waiting for anything. It’s like he looks lost, confused as to what to do. It’s cute for someone who always seems so sure of himself. It suits him, you think.

Then, you turn to Satoru, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours with gorgeous white lashes. You’d never really seen them till now, then you noticed how well defined his cupid's bow was, and the light shade of his lips… you couldn’t help it, your mouth was meeting his with unexpected need. You felt him physically relax into you, his enormous palm resting on the fat of your thigh as you held his face. He was kissing you like he was familiar with your taste.

Suguru didn’t know he was going to be this turned on at the site before his eyes, not particularly sore that you kissed his friend before him. Bygones. It’s just thrilling to him how good the two of you look while doing it, he almost forgot he was in the room with you.

But you didn’t forget about him, of course, you have to peel yourself off of the needy man next to you to get to him though. “Can I kiss you,” you ask him.

And he nods, “More than welcome sweetheart.” You simply roll your eyes, what a charmer.

He’s all teeth and tongue, his mouth and hands trying to suck you closer to him. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and it was sending heat straight downwards, making you draw your knees together.

Though Satoru separates them, letting his appendage creep up your bare thigh trying to test the waters. You drag it up further to encourage him, he shows his gratitude by kissing the skin of your neck. He can feel you moan as you kiss his friend and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life. There’s just no way this was really happening.

You try kissing them at the same time, but it’s just overwhelming. The roughness of their fingertips makes you groan into their touch. It’s a battle of will and you can’t compete with their hunger as they devour you, greedy hands trying formidably hard to claim you as their own.

Satoru tows you into his lap, placing the plush of your ass directly on his boner. You can see the light pink hue coating his face as he watches Suguru slot himself between your legs, it makes you feel drunk to be between their immense frames like this. He grabs your legs as they dangle off the bed, letting his shoulders hold the brunt of their weight. His dark eyes find yours as he smiles, kissing your soft inner thighs with pepper-light praise.

It almost feels like you’re not yourself, witnessing your chest rise and fall so sporadically in anticipation of what his mouth is going to do next. Satoru's breath hitches as his partner slides your flimsy shorts down to your ankles, eyes locked on the translucent slick connecting you to your underwear.

Your face feels hot knowing they’re both looking at your indecent cunt, but instead they praise you.

“Pretty girl with an even prettier pussy,” Suguru says. Smug bastard.

“No fair. Do something or I will.” The blue-eyed beauty pouts, twisting your nipple from underneath your jacket. It elicits a whine from deep within your chest, their attention making you grow hotter and more ravenous every second.

Congrats, you just made their dicks 12x heavier in their pants. More of that sweet noise, they agree.

Su plants his face in your hot pussy with no shame, licking long stripes up your folds. “Fuck, Satoru you wouldn’t believe what she tastes like,” he remarks wiping your slick from his lips and directly into his mouth.

“Let me try,” his tone is different, all silliness gone, and it's quite dominant. He grabs Suguru by his dark hair, raising the male from his kneeling position to kiss him so he can get a taste of you himself.

The sight makes warmth shoot right to your guts, they’re making out so intensely it almost feels like you’re intruding, but you can’t stop watching them.

“You’re right,” he says with a wicked grin and blown-out pupils, “she tastes fucking incredible.”

You can see the look on their faces, they’re sick and you’re worried you’re going to become as fucked up as them by the end of this.

Continuing their ministrations, Suguru is back to kissing your thighs while Satoru massages your breasts in his large palms. But something’s different, their energy has changed. It’s been replaced with something you can’t quite yet place your finger on.

You start to feel teeth graze your supple skin, on both your neck and inner thighs. They smirk in unison feeling you twitch lightly in their hold, taking it as a sign to continue. “What’s wrong? You’re so shy all of a sudden. Where’s that on the court ferocity baby?”

His voice is smooth and low in your ears, you open your droopy eyes to find him already looking right back at you. “Shut up.” What a bunch of jackasses.

He laughs, pulling your cunt flush to his eager lips. “Fine then,” and damn does it feel good. His wet muscle rolls on your clit in steady waves, never breaking his pace. Suguru's warm breath and open-mouthed pants into your pussy have you crushing his skull between your toned thighs, but his iron grip stops you.

He alternates between flicking and sucking but you can’t follow because Satoru is making you feel limp in his arms. For all his cuteness, he’s really a beast; rutting his cock into your ass as he bites into your shoulder for a better grip on you. You have half to mind to tell him to not be so rough, it’s too hot outside to wear a turtleneck.

It just all feels so good, you didn’t think it could get any better till you feel a finger prodding at your entrance. It’s thick, and you welcome it with no fuss, sighing as you grind down on his worn hand.

“Her pussy is so soft, fuck I need to put my dick in this.” And there’s another finger, it burns but the calloused ridges feel much better than your own hands.

“You are disgusting,” you bark back, but it sounds pathetic as his friend pinches your dark nipples between his fingers mid-sentence.

“You’re the one twitching on my fingers, talk about disgusting.” His words sting and make your face feel hot, but he beams, delving in for more, making out with your sensitive bud as his fingers pump in and out of you.

Satoru feels this is all unsportsmanlike. He doesn’t get to taste you, but he guesses he should be grateful to just touch you. Something in him wants more, and needs to be selfish, “I get to fuck you first, understand?”

Your small face rests in his hand, your head tipped upwards to meet his infinite eyes that tell you he’s not asking. “Please S’Toru, mmn— need you now,” spit pools in the corners of your mouth and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked sexier.

The darker-haired man merely chuckles, knowing he’s been beaten by the way your pussy is gripping his fingers right now. Only Satoru could do something like that.

But in the meantime, he’ll stretch you out just how you need.

You can only assume there are three fingers knuckle deep inside you, you honestly can’t tell because your eyes are rolled back in satisfaction. They’re caging you, bringing you to a threshold of pleasure you didn’t know before. “Gonna— ah! Wai- gonna cum,” his three digits curve upwards, jamming that spot as he sucks your clit within his velvety lips.

White hot pleasure clouds your vision as you come undone in front of them, their eyes watching every jolt devastate you. If they could make you cum like this, what else could they do to you?

“You’re so perfect for us, jus’ keep cumming princess.” You’re a moaning heaving mess in his arms but Satoru thinks he might be in love with you. He can’t take his eyes away from your face as you writhe so helplessly.

They let you catch your breath a moment before getting into the next position, removing any extra clothes that might prevent them from fully feeling you, kissing your face and thighs whenever you shiver. Despite all the shit you gave them, they were actually kinda sweet.

You let them move you to the center of the bed, Satoru slotting himself between your legs while your pelvis rests on his hips. Suguru innocently sits close by next to you waiting for his set of instructions.

“Do you trust us?” He asks.

“Of course not.” You joke, arching your eyebrow in defiance to them. Satoru slaps your clit with his cock for misbehaving, and you had not realized it before but he’s big. It’s almost to your belly button and you have no idea how you’re going to be able to take all of him.

Like a predator, he senses your fear, “kiss her,” he briefs Suguru.

His mouth and tongue still taste like you, warm and lithe as it seeps into your mouth. You’re distracted flat on your back as Gojo thumbs your still-sensitive clit, wanting to give you a little pleasure for the impending pain.

It’s like him to pick missionary, you think. You can’t see him but he’s biting his own lip to the point it could draw blood as he works his long cock into you inch by fucking inch. It’s torture not just fucking you to the hilt but he’ll be nice.

“So good baby, this pussy’s real fucking good,” he hisses through his teeth. You can only moan into Suguru's mouth, he drowns out and swallows up every cry of pain and pleasure.

They’re shallow and steady strokes that make you impatient, you respond by grinding yourself onto him with fervor. “Stop it, you know I can’t take it if you do that,” he whines, you feel his weight fall close by on the bed. “You’re just so damn tight.”

With his hand propped on the mattress, Satoru hits somewhere deeper inside you, making you reflexively close your legs around his small waist. It’s all a blur, Sugurus' snake-like tongue and Satorus' cannon of a dick.

They’re relentless. You feel like he’s carving a new hole in your insides with how thorough he’s maiming you. “You like it huh, love when I fuck you hard like this?” It’s all but enunciated with a potent stroke behind each syllable.

He knows you can’t answer him with his best friend commandeering your mouth, the sight before him was beyond enthralling. But he doesn’t need you to, each squelch of your cunt providing him with enough proof.

Plap, plap, plap. His heavy balls hitting your ass over and over again. He doesn’t even need to do anything unique with a dick like that, he might be too prideful to use it correctly.

“Su, I-I want you to eat her out as I fuck her, please,” even though Satoru was the one in control of this situation, you don’t miss the submission in his voice to his equal.

He hums, leaving your mouth to pick up where he left off earlier. Memories of your pussy sweet like candy on his tongue flash in his mind as he tucks his long black hair behind his ear to not get in the way of his feast.

It’s so fucking sexy, you moan out a mix of their names too far gone to differentiate at this point. They could be your god for all you care. “Don’t s-stop.”

“Of course sweet thing,” Suguru replies, they’ll service you however you need them to.

Satoru sits on his feet to give Geto space, inching his cock in you deliberately slow. Coupled with Su's stellar oral, you’re good as gone. Twitching and arching off the bed as you’re spread and fucked.

You didn’t know sex could feel this good, they’re so intently focused on your pleasure it’s overwhelming. That familiar fire kindling in your tummy. “Oh! I’m- I’m gonna—”

“Already?” They say in unison, watching as you cum for the second time tonight. Satoru grabs Suguru in support, your cunt is sucking him in so tight that he’s probably going to cum himself if he doesn’t calm down.

Suguru swallows your loud whines, wanting to be a little mindful of the late hour. That has his friend coming undone, “Me too— fuckkkk.”

You’re shivering in aftershock as he shallowly pumps his load in you. Letting you milk his tip as he rocks his hips lightly. It’s the most he’s ever came, and he just can’t stop cumming because it’s started to leak out of you. A foamy mix of him and yourself now coating his frosty happy trail.

“Well, that’s just not fair,” Suguru says, wiping his face and putting his fingers in your mouth. You obediently suck, feeling a tad bit remorseful. After all, he didn’t get to cum, and he’s been so good to you and your cunny.

You weakly grab his wrist, trying to speak with your mouth stuffed. “What?”

He withdraws, letting his hand drag down your body, squeezing your tit in his warm palm before resting on your tummy. The sensation of him tapping his fingers against your flesh lights you on fire all over again.

“Fuck me, I can take it. Or what? Are you too pussy?”

What a damn brat, you’re just like Satoru. At least, that’s what he thinks. After all, you both give him this nauseating sense of frustration to put you in your place for your sheer arrogance.

He just rolls his eyes, amused nonetheless, “Okay.”

He pulls a limp and exhausted Satoru from out between your legs, informing him of his next intentions before they have to go to sleep for their match tomorrow. You watch the two of them converge from on your stomach, trying to collect yourself. The feeling of something new is still so exciting even if you’re acting confident.

After what felt like forever one of them crawls back over to the bed. “Ass up hun, c’mon I wanna see it.” Suguru is hot in a different way than Satoru, as you get into position he starts pumping his cock from somewhere just out of reach. “Wow baby, beautiful arch,” he sneers, but it is genuine. He’s leaking pre just toying with himself while watching you.

“Clean her up,” he commands. Satoru obeys, giving your ass a light smack before positioning himself behind you. You’ve never had someone eat you out like this before, whatever their fetish was with tasting you was; it was heaven.

He spits in your pussy before dribbling it back up gain. Like a dog he’s responsible for cleaning his own mess, groaning at the taste of himself and you coating your thighs and folds. You’re sure it’s been gone for a while now but he doesn’t stop, neither does Suguru. Just standing there, stroking himself with a pink hue coating his face.

It’s mind-shattering at this point how diminutive you feel to their impulses. Incoherent babble about how good it feels and how it’s too much slip past your lips as you’re forced to watch his abs tense and flex in tandem with his sharp v-line, but he’s slow. Just edging himself over there as Satoru devours you. His tongue cooling your worn cunt.

“Careful, don’t make her cum again.” Enough watching, he honestly can’t take much more himself.

Satoru begrudgingly stops and sits on the bed by your head, waiting for further instruction.

“You think you’re ready?” His features are shrouded in a dark halo, raven hair cascading down his collarbones as he mounts you.

You deeply want to say yes but you can feel your pussy clenching questioning it, his broad shoulders looming over you. “Yes..” maybe you bit off more than you can chew. He would be the type to love doggy, you think.

He grins, lining himself up with your slit and coating his tip in your excess juices. “Good.” It knocks the wind out of you with how girthy he is.

If Satoru was length, Suguru was girth. You white knuckle the bed sheet as he fucks the sense out of you. Starting from the tip of your toes to the crown of your scalp he rearranged you.

“Nghhh—” You can’t say or do anything, just accept his intrusion. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, bracing yourself as Suguru picks up speed.

He’s exact, precise, and doesn’t waste a single ounce of energy in his stroke. It’s deep and punctual, powerful in your guts. “Fu-u-uck,” he has you stuttering over your words and the tears begin to spill from his mean dick.

“Aw, you cryin’?” Satoru says, wiping the tears from your face as you look to him for some sort of mercy. You should have known better, his icy eyes and tone betraying any semblance of pity to the brute pounding you’re receiving.

He just grunts behind you, hands bruising your sides surely from his grip alone. That’s the only thing keeping you up, the sheer power in his thrust makes the sound and smell of sex pungent.

Satoru takes your hand and places it on his shaft, he himself is a little envious of the sight and needs tending to again. Your sense of perception becomes needier to please and oblige his wishes, jerking his fat dick as his best friend pounds you.

It’s cliché, but you didn’t expect it to be this good. The two of them totally ruining you in their shitty hotel room, two arrogant rising tennis stars sharing you greedily.

The tension in the room builds, barreling towards completion as desperate moans and groans erupt from you all. A hedonistic sight indeed, chasing after your ends.

It’s Suguru who causes the domino effect, picking up speed and hunching over to rest his body on top of yours. You buckle under the weight which has him even deeper inside you. “Just like that, stay there,” it’s firm.

He’s moaning, driving himself in and out of you with reckless abandon. His hair wild as he mutters obscenities about your pussy. His hips begin to stutter, causing Satoru to follow suit hearing you both scream like animals.

Your hand works over just the top half of his cock as he cums, overstimulating him but he can’t help but buck his hips into your hand for more. Next thing you know, you’re finishing too, the rest of it being a blur from his spent you were.

A disgusting pile of sweat, cum, and spit coats the three of you on that bed. Catching your breaths and seeking warmth from each other after what you just did. “Are you sure you guys haven’t done that before?” You break the silence with a joke.

“We could do it again,” Satoru mumbles, half joking half serious.

“We have a game. Shower then sleep,” Suguru says matter-of-factly, removing his forearm from his eyes.

The three of you stumble to the bathroom, sticky and hot as you pile in the bath. It’s quiet, but it’s nice.

You talk about what went wrong and what went right as you wash each other, even talking about strategy for the game tomorrow. Oh, and of course the infamous bet.

Whoever wins gets to have your heart, right?

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