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thevillainswhore · 10 months

Text

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

7K notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 8 months

Text

“Do I have a cute butt?”

“Excuse me?” Osamu asks at your question, popping an eye open as he chuckles. You giggle at your matched silliness, gently patting his chest.

“You know.... like, is my butt cute?” You ask again, traveling your eyes to look. Your leg is hooked over his waist, his large hand running along your thigh sweetly.

Osamu sighs sleepily, “is this one of those scenarios where if I answer, you’ll hit me?”

You giggle at him, “depends on your answer.”

“Then I think you have, single handedly, the cutest butt in the world, sweet love.” His large hand travels down and gives your ass a gentle pat, almost like you were a baby.

Well, you are his baby, as he always assures.

Your heart flutters wildly at his words, they always have an effect on you, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his chest further to hide your face.

“Awww,” he teases. “Did I make my angel girl all shy?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him lightly. He chuckles lowly before shoving his hand under your hip and pushing you up, guiding you to straddle his waist. He gently caresses your sides and thighs, dopey, loving smile on his pink lips.

“I think every part of you is the cutest, my love,” Osamu whispers, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” You challenge. “Like what?” He raises his own brows, “everything.” He gently takes your hand in his, “I love these small, sexy hands of yours.” He plants a kiss to each of your fingers before closing them, placing a final kiss to your knuckles. You bite your lip, brushing the fallen locks of hair out of his eyes.

“They’re not small,” you protest. “Yours are just massive.”

“Either way,” he continues. “I love these hips, and these legs that everyone stares at when you wear shorts,” he gently digs his fingers in your thighs slightly, leaving lightened prints before transforming back to your original skin tone.

You avert his gaze, “they stare because my hips come up to your thighs. Tall freak.”

“They stare because you’re hot,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the ‘T’ and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “They stare because somehow, your stunning ass got stuck with me."

“I love being stuck with you!"

“I love it too,” he assures, smiling as you laugh. “That’s another thing,” he says. “That sweet laugh of yours.”

“Oh, you mean the dolphin mating call?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Osamu shakes his head, “no, you brat. I’m talking about your laugh. Your sweet giggles. Your scoffs. The way it goes silent when you laugh really hard. It the fucking best.”

“No it’s not,” you groan. “You’re the only person on planet earth who could find a walrus being assaulted with a crowbar cute.”

“There’s nothing wrong with finding your little giggles endearing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But you know what I love most about you?” He asks, cupping your ass and hips in his massive hands.

You quirk your brow, “what’s that, oh Prince Charming of mine.”

“My absolute biggest weakness about you, dollface, is...” he squeezed harder. “Messing with you.”

You can barely process what he said before he bucks his hips up against you, bouncing you up and down. You scream out in laughter, planting your hands to his chest. His own laughter mixes with yours, his thighs continuing to bounce you like you’re a rider on a horse.

“Okay, okay!” You manage between giggles. “I get it!”

“Don’t,” bounce “think,” bounce “you,” bounce “do.” He grins as he stops bouncing, sitting up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest as you both flop back down.

“You’re so bad,” you giggle, running your hands over his chest. Osamu chuckles, planting a kiss to your head.

“What can I say,” he sighs dreamily. “I'm a man of poetic genius.”

"If that's what you want to call it."

Immediately, hands dart under your arms to tickle you viciously, smirking as you shriek and clamp your hands to your sides and laughter pours out of your lips.

It truly was his favorite sound.

4K notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 13 days

Text

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

.......................................................

Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage.

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!"

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense.

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white.

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house.

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena.

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words.

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground.

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall.

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands.

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded.

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand.

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted.

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right.

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings.

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena.

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes.

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester.

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle.

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders.

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor.

Nothing could ease his worries.

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side.

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him.

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over.

"It hurts… please, Cregan…"

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked.

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him.

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime.

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white.

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied.

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to.

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride.

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

......................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #house of the dragon #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x targaryen!reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #hotd cregan #house of the dragon imagine

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mioons · 25 days

Text

‎ LALALA OKOKOK ✦ 甜心女友

ᐢ..ᐢ okokok enha with a lalala gf ✿ 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝓁𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗑 𝒻𝖾𝗆. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ⟢ ( 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ) . . 526 ⟡

EN— | 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 ♥︎ CLiCK

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung wasnt the nicest nor the most friendly person to meet. he doesn’t talk much nor does he have much friends. but due to his good looks he often had girls fawning over him or receiving love letters in his locker.

it annoyed him; that was until he met you

his little ray of sunshine that could never make him annoyed, his favourite girl that could never make him sad, and his darling, who always cheered him whenever he was feeling agitated.

“baby stop it..” he'd mumble, though his actions say otherwise; his hands were at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

“says the one that won’t stop kissing me.”

“oh shut up.”

PARK JONGSEONG

jay isn’t the person you’d go to to ask for homework tips or to ask for help for. it’s just the way he stares at people and his dark voice that scares them off.

but when he’s with you, his whole demeanour changes. one might even wonder if he has an identical twin because the way he acted around you wasn’t very “jay park” of him.

sometimes he’d be nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head while you talked to your friends, or he could even be seen smiling and laughing at the jokes you made.

you were the bubble in his life he never wanted to pop, bringing colour to his days and a smile on his face.

SIM JAEYUN

calling him scary was an understatement. he only had two facial expressions, one for when he was bored and the other for when he was annoyed. honestly you can just lump them up together and nobody could tell the difference.

that was until your sweet and kind self showed up into his life, or rather barged into his life, is what he’d like to call it.

ever since you came into his life, he finally knew how to smile without being forced to. he knew how to wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses all over your face. you were the only exception and the only victim to his affection.

not that any of you minded anyway.

PARK SUNGHOON

he didn’t gain the title of “ice cold prince” for nothing. he didn’t bat an eye to the girls who gushed about him constantly, nor did he pay any mind to the teachers who complimented him on his performance in school. nobody could really find it in themselves to joke around with him, simply because he was too scary.

to them at least. with you, he was like a lovesick puppy, always following you around. he was used to compliments from others, never really seeking them out; however, when he was around you, he always asked you whether he did well or if he looked handsome.

“hey princess, do i look good today?” he’d ask while burying his face into the part where your neck meets your shoulder.

“what kind of question is that? you’re so silly,” you’d giggle and card your fingers through his hair.

“cmon.. just answer the question.”

“fine fine! you look absolutely adorable and handsome today, my hoonie.”

taglist ╱ @flwrstqr @wonsdoll @won4kiss @dioll @tzyunaes @suneng @jakesangel

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baelarys · 1 month

Text

𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣

Aemond targaryen x Reader wife Velaryon

Word count: 1779

Warning: Fluff

Pt2 pt3 pt4

"Mommy! Vaera has my dress," little Vaerys complained, clinging to your skirt with the determination of someone seeking justice in her small, childish world.

"That's not true," Vaera retorted, her tone indignant, her voice reflecting the restlessness she also showed in her constant fidgeting as you tried to braid her hair.

"Vaera, stay still," you ordered her softly but firmly, your skilled hands deftly moving through her golden locks. Despite her agitation, your skill did not waver, and soon an impeccable braid began to form.

"Sweetheart, what you're wearing is very pretty too," you tried to negotiate with the little platinum-haired girl who was still clutching your dress.

"But I want it to be pink," insisted Vaerys, her lower lip trembling in a pout you knew all too well.

You sighed, knowing there would be no peace until the little one's wishes were fulfilled. "Alright," you relented, gesturing to one of your ladies-in-waiting. She hurried to tend to the twins, swapping their dresses with the efficiency born of routine. Meanwhile, your hands briefly rested on your swollen belly, caressing it with deep, protective love.

The sound of the doors opening behind you interrupted the moment, and you turned just in time to see Aerion, your only son, standing in the doorway. "Mommy," he called softly, almost hesitantly.

A gasp escaped your lips at the sight of your son. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to contain the shock. The beautiful platinum and golden hair that used to fall in soft waves to Aerion's shoulders had disappeared, crudely cut. His face was smeared with smoke and dirt, as if he had been in the midst of a battle.

“Aerion, for the love of the gods, what happened?” you exclaimed, crossing the distance between you in an instant. You took your son by the shoulders, examining his face with concern as you searched for answers in his eyes.

One of the knights who had escorted Aerion to the room remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the shame was a weight he could not bear.

“What happened?” you insisted, your voice firm, seeking answers in the knight’s face.

The knight cleared his throat before responding, his voice full of a mixture of respect and concern. “Prince Aerion decided to escape from his training and ventured into the pit where Vhagar and Silverwing rest. We managed to pull him out of there before the dragon’s fire consumed him, but his hair caught fire in the process, and the maester decided to cut it to prevent further damage.”

He finished speaking with his gaze once again fixed on the ground, as if each word added more weight to his shoulders.

Before you could respond, Aerion quickly intervened, noticing the displeasure forming on your face. “But the maester said it will grow back!” he exclaimed with the desperation of a child seeking absolution, his large, anxious eyes searching yours.

You gestured for the guard to leave, and he obeyed with a bow before exiting the room. Then, you pressed your lips together, trying to stay calm as a storm of fear and anger swirled within you. The danger Aerion had exposed himself to was no small matter; the fact that he had emerged practically unscathed was a miracle. However, his recklessness could not be ignored or overlooked.

You took Aerion’s face in your hands, gently wiping the dirt from his cheeks, your gaze firm and worried. “Aerion,” you began, trying not to let your voice tremble with emotion, “we’ve talked about this before. Dragons are not pets. You cannot approach them as if they were dogs.”

“But I just wanted to see them,” your son responded in a whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground. Guilt weighed in his voice, and yet there was still a trace of his childish stubbornness. “I’m sorry, really,” he added, stepping forward and wrapping his small arms around your waist, seeking comfort and perhaps a way to avoid the punishment he feared.

You sighed, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but not letting it distract you from what needed to be said. “I know, my love, and I believe you. But you must understand that you cannot do this again. Dragons are powerful and dangerous creatures. I don’t want to lose you to a mistake.” With tenderness, you tilted your head and placed a gentle kiss on his head.

With the same softness, you pulled away slightly from him. “Now, go clean yourself up,” you ordered in a tone that left little room for objections.

One of your ladies-in-waiting approached and took Aerion’s hand with the usual deference, guiding him to the bath to prepare him for cleaning. As you watched them leave, you let out a slight groan of pain as you felt the baby in your womb give small kicks, reminding you of their presence with an energy that could not be ignored.

The door opened again, and as you looked up, you saw your husband, Aemond, who gave you a warm smile upon seeing you. There was a familiarity and affection in his gaze that always managed to calm your spirit. Carefully, he placed his sword on the table before approaching you, his presence filling the room with a tranquility only he could offer.

“Daddy!” Vaerys exclaimed with excitement, breaking the brief moment of silence. Without hesitation, the little girl jumped into her father’s arms, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck with the absolute confidence of a child who knows they will always be received with love.

Aemond lifted her effortlessly, holding her against his chest as his face softened even more. “And how is my little warrior today?” he asked playfully, as Vaerys laughed, delighted by her father’s attention.

Meanwhile, Vaera, who had remained silent, looked at her sister with bright eyes, waiting her turn to be hugged. With a gesture that showed Aemond’s natural skill in handling the dynamics between his children, he extended his other arm to draw Vaera to his side as well.

“Look at my dress,” Vaerys exclaimed, raising her arms to proudly show off her pink dress, waiting for her father's approval.

Aemond, always attentive to the details that mattered to his daughters, smiled and nodded appreciatively. “It’s a beautiful dress, Vaerys,” he commented with warmth that made the little girl’s eyes shine.

Not wanting to be left out, Vaera quickly interjected, spreading the folds of her own dress. “Look at mine too!” she proclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of enthusiasm and expectation.

Aemond placed a loving kiss on Vaerys’s cheek, then another on Vaera’s cheek, making sure both felt his affection equally. The twins, satisfied with their father’s attention, moved away with playful laughter, their pink dresses fluttering as they disappeared into their own world of games and giggles.

Your husband approached you with a tenderness he only showed during the most intimate moments. Gently, he placed his hand on your swollen belly, caressing it with the same devotion he showed each day, as if already attuned to the new family member who was about to arrive.

“You look worried,” he murmured, his voice filled with concern as he pressed his forehead against yours, a gesture you shared when seeking comfort in each other’s closeness. “What’s wrong?”

The warmth of his skin and the familiarity of his touch reassured you, but the emotions you had been holding back began to surface. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting his presence calm your thoughts before you responded.

“It’s Aerion,” you confessed in a whisper, feeling the worry still weighing on your heart. “Today, he ran off and got too close to Vhagar and Silverwing. He almost… I can’t bear to think about what could have happened.”

“He’s a brave boy,” Aemond said, his voice soft but with the firmness of someone who understands the complex nature of his son. “I’ll talk to him.”

You nodded, knowing that Aemond, with his patience and wisdom, was the best person to guide Aerion in these moments. As the weight of your worry began to lift, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, resting your head against Aemond’s chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a reassuring reminder of the strength and stability you always found in him.

Sensing your need for closeness, Aemond wrapped you in a warm embrace, his arms surrounding you with a tenderness that always surprised you, contrasting with his usual sternness. In that moment, the outside world, with all its worries and challenges, seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a silence full of understanding.

“You need to relax,” Aemond murmured, his voice caressing the air as gently as his hand moved up and down your back. The gesture was comforting, almost hypnotic, as if he wanted to erase the accumulated tension from every muscle in your body, leading you to a state of deep calm.

The warmth of his touch and the firmness with which he held you sent a wave of tranquility through you. You rested your head against his chest, letting yourself be carried by the steady rhythm of his breathing, which slowly synchronized with yours. You could feel his strength and protection enveloping you, offering you a refuge where you could rest without reservations.

“I’m here,” Aemond continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, resonating in your ear like an unbreakable promise. “You don’t have to carry all this weight alone. Together, we can handle anything.”

His words, laden with a love that didn’t need to be expressed with grand gestures, comforted you in a way that few things could. It was a reminder that, despite everything you faced, you weren’t alone in this journey. Aemond was by your side, sharing not only the joys but also the burdens that life imposed on you.

You felt his fingers tracing gentle circles on your back, a simple gesture that spoke of his desire to see you relaxed and at peace. Each caress seemed to take away a bit of the tension you had accumulated, and in response, you held onto him a little tighter, letting his presence envelop you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely a whisper, but enough for him to hear. You lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, those eyes that always offered you the certainty that, no matter what came your way, you would face it together.

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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 3 months

Text

The Dragon and the Dragon-less

Pairing: Aemond x Strong niece reader

Summary: The night Aemond had lost his eye, his sweet niece was the only one to provide him any sense of comfort. Many years later, when she returns to Kings Landing with her family, what should become of the two? ;)

Warnings: bad ship terminology (idk boats y'all sorry), Rhaenyra being kind of a bad mom (love her tho), Targcest/incest, softer Aemond, smut in the dragon pits, this one is kind of long haha

AN: Hey y'all! Since my first fic seemed to be received so well (thanks so much to everyone for that:) I decided to write another one! I'm staying on the Aemond train since I've never left it since day one haha. Let me know tho if there are any requests!

PS: I haven't gone through and totally edited this so don't mind the spelling or grammar issues if there are any!!

It had been awful, you remembered hearing the screaming and shouting from your chambers. The screeching having woken you up from a rather pleasant dream about eating cake–

In nothing but your night clothes, and a quilt draped around your shoulders, you padded down the chilly hallways of Dragonstone.

“ – it was my sons who were attacked!” You hear your mother yell. Concerned you took a few more steps forward, finally able to make out the scene before you. Your mother and your brothers to one side, while Alicent and her boys on the other, the fire raging in the hearth between them.

Your wide lilac eyes meet those of your stepfather, Prince Daemon, he reaches a hand out towards you as if to say “Come here”. Your feet did not move, rooted to the spot, eyes glancing around the room once more. You see something you hadn’t noticed before, Aemond, in the corner of the room, surrounded by maesters. A hand over his eye, thick, sticky fluid oozing from between his small fingers. Gasping, your own hands fly to cover your lips, perhaps to muffle the noise, or maybe to tame the scream building in your throat. Aemond’s healthy eye meets yours, pain, sadness but most of all fury over taking his features.

Just then your mother turns to meet you, her gaze worried and frantic, “My sweet girl! You should return to your chambers this is no sight for you dearest,” her hand, also bloody you notice, rests above her heart.

“Mother, w-what has happened? Aemond, h-he, is he alright–” You begin to question, Daemon takes a step towards you and you take one forward into the room. Your concerned gaze flits over to Aemond once more. Despite the fire in the hearth, the chill of the room has set into your bones, causing you to pull the quilt tighter around your shoulders.

“Come now byka zaldrīzes (little dragon) let us return you to your quarters. Aemond will be fine,” Your father attempts to comfort you. Maybe you are too tired to argue, or too shocked, your mind still attempting to comprehend what has happened. But you let your father guide you back to your chambers, the quilt trailing behind you like a cloak.

With a lullaby and a pat on the head, Daemon bids you good night once more. Closing the door softly behind him, his heavy footsteps receding off into the distance, presumably back to your mother and brothers. It feels like hours as you stare at the ceiling, listening, straining your ears for even just a morsel of information. But the halls beyond your door remain as silent as the grave. The chill in your bones is stubborn, making you shiver. Sitting up and swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you wrap the quilt around your shoulders once again. As silently as possible, you open the door, the hall is empty save for the torches lining the walls. You’re bathed in the fiery orange glow as you step fully into the hall.

You’re not quite sure where your feet carry you until you turn the corner and are met with Ser Criston Cole. His tall stature taking up the door frame of the young prince's room, his gold cloak behind him like an inverse shadow. It’s not until you come to stand in front of him that he addresses you.

“Princess, you should not be here. You should return to your chambers,” He looks down his nose at you. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on the quilt.

“Please, Ser, I must see the Prince. What has happened to him? I must know if he is alright–”

“Your brothers have maimed him. Who’s to say you aren’t here to do the same? Perhaps your whore of a –” The door behind him creaks a bit, one of the maesters appears in its place. Bloodied rags and a needle are held in his hands. He sighs “The prince says she may pass Ser Cole,”

With one last look of annoyance and a warning mumbled under his breath, the knight lets you pass. The room is dark, lit only by a few candles on the bedside table. Aemond’s hunched form lays on the bed, the blankets up to his chin. As you make your way closer you can see the true horror of what has happened this evening. Where his eye once was, now lays only marred flesh, red and angry, the stitches pull at the swollen skin. You gasp, shocked, a sick feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Aemond asks you, bitterness lacing his voice. As he speaks you make your way to his side, sitting lightly on the bed, next to his hip. Your small hand searching for his under the covers, to comfort him, or maybe to warm your own.

“H-how did this happen? Who could possibly have–”

“Your brothers. Lucerys stole my eye. But an eye for a dragon is a fair price to pay is it not niece?” A proud, sad smile graces his features. While your brothers had dragons since they were but babes, you were not as lucky. Syrax had not laid a full nest, and your mother had decided it was best to give your brothers the two eggs. All the while you have remained dragonless.

“Vhagar is now mine, and on the morrow, we shall leave this wretched place. And I will fly on dragon back to the Red Keep.” His singular lilac eye meets yours. “I promise you, sweet niece, one day I shall take you for a ride on dragon back. Show you the freedom that comes with it,” His previously bloodied fingers intertwined with yours.

“I would like that very much uncle,” Looking down at your joined hands, a small smile of your own matching his.

— — — — — — —

The waters of the sea lap against the side of the ship, the slap against the wood echoing around you. Overpowered only by the screeching of your family's dragons above you. Alone, you ride on this ship, well alone save for the ship hands and captain assigned by your father. Still, at the age of nine and ten, you remain dragonless, made to travel to the Red Keep by boat.

Your brothers claim to Driftmark had come into question, prompting the visit back to your old home. You hadn’t been back here since–

Your mother and father had determined it best to keep the family at Dragonstone after Aemond lost his eye. Although you had always suspected part of the reasoning for that was your mothers fear of retribution from Alicent for what your brother had done. Perhaps it was a long time coming though, your brothers as well as Aegon had picked on Aemond ruthlessly for years prior to that night. You had been spared only by the simple facts that you were a little girl, and just weren’t in there presence as much. Despite your pleas to join in the yard for training you had been denied, and turned towards the library instead to study “things more befit for your station” as your mother had put it.

“We shall dock shortly Princess,” the ship captain’s voice drifted to you from behind the wheel. You stood on the platform with him, looking beyond the masthead, you see Syrax and Caraxes land in the dragon pits. You sigh, it looks like you’ll arrive alone at the Red Keep, not expecting your mother to wait for you. Her and Daemon needed to prepare for the events of tomorrow.

Arriving at the Keep felt haunting, the lack of a welcome only contributing to that fact. Once docked, you were met by a singular carriage and it’s driver. The captain had assured you that your belongings were to be delivered to your chambers shortly. For all your fathers faults he did have good trust and faith in those he employed. The ship’s captain had been with your families since you were a girl. He and yourself not unfamiliar with these lonesome journeys.

The gates of the Red Keep came into view as you rolled over the bumpy roads of Kings Landing. Gold Cloaks lined the gate’s walls, closing the massive gate doors behind you, shutting you in, locking you within the castle grounds. The carriage comes to a jumpy halt, the driver offering you his hand as you disembark your ride. Your fingers slip into his as your boots squelch in the mud below you, the clanging of swords and metal meet your ears.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” A voice says, one you could not recognize. From across the yard you see your brothers, you wave to them, hoping to catch their eye. Luke turns his head towards you, a small smile playing at his lips. Noticing this, the source of the voice follows his gaze, a singular lilac eye meeting yours.

“Niece, how you have grown–” Aemond’s lone eye takes in your figure. My how you’ve grown indeed. Last time he had seen you you barely came up to his chin, your silver locks a messs contained in small braids. The flush that never seemed to leave your cheeks remained however. You had grown taller, still standing shorter than himself, which he finds excites him a bit. More than it should perhaps. You had grown into yourself in a way that was very pleasing to his eye, your face fuller and lovely. Your curves soft and plush, inviting him to touch and caress them.

“Uncle,” you offer him a small curtsey. You can hear Jace scoff, as if annoyed by the action. Wanting yo say more, but not knowing what, you continue to look at one another. Your own eyes take in your uncle, he had grown taller, much taller. His muscles lean and corded beneath his tunic. His silver hair almost as long as yours, is pulled back slightly in a braid. Some hanging free, escaping their confines during his sparring. His eye was now covered in an eyepatch, made of black leather, the tops and bottoms of the scar still visible even with it on.

The arrival of another carriage turns your gaze to the left, where you yourself had arrived only moments ago. Vaemond Valaryon steps out of the carriage and into the yard, sparing a glance at the Prince and your brothers. A look of disgust crosses his face as he lays his eyes on Luke.

— — — — — — —

The meeting to question Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark is long and dull, at least in the beginning. Mustering his limited remaining strength your grandsire had sat the thrown. Disputing Otto and Alicent in their claims. He looks horrible you think. His skin looks to be gray and sloughing off of his bones. The Stranger would be coming for him soon. It is not until Vaemond brings into question your brother’s parentage once again, that the apprehensive peace shatters.

“And she is a–”

“Say it,” your father’s hand that rests on the hilt of Dark Sister tightens, knuckles whitening.

“ – a WHORE!” In one swift blow, Daemon sends Vaemond’s head rolling across the floor of the throne room. Blood trailed behind the appendage like a snail’s trail. The room is filled with gasps and short screams. Your own eyes widened looking at the head on the stone floor before you. By no means are you unfamiliar with your father's violent nature, and nor should the rest of the court.

“Let him keep his tongue,” Daemon wipes the blood off of his blade, stepping back, sheathing the sword once more.

As if some kind of magic pulls you, you lift your eyes from Vaemonds severed head and meet those of your uncle. A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, he looks to be well entertained by the violent display. Caught in your staring, Aemond’s gaze rises to meet your own, his smirk widening into a more sadistic smile.

“Now, for the final order of business. A more pleasant way to end this affair,” the king says, his mellow voice carrying across the stone-lined room. “I am blessed by the Gods to have such a large family, but it appears that the Gods hope to bless us some more,” It was becoming increasingly more clear that Alicent’s love for The Seven has bled not just into the castle but its people as well. You think maybe it gives the king something comforting in his final days.

“My son, Aemond, a fine warrior and scholar,” Aemond stands rigid and straight, uncomfortable with the new attention from his father. “And my granddaughter, if your mother had not already claimed the title of Realms Delight then it would be most certainly passed to you.” Your cheeks flush a bright pink, warmth rising to the tips of your ears.

“This family has been divided for quite some time, I tend to rectify that. Aemond, my son, and my granddaughter the princess, shall be married,” The reactions around the room are mixed, some people applaud, some cover their shock with their hands. Wide, prying eyes jump between you and Aemond. You dare a look in his direction, he is still staring, the smile gone from his face now. Confusion, shock, anger? You cannot tell but it is not sweet, and it is not kind.

A wave of confidence washes over you as you step forward, “What is the meaning of this? Why have I not had any indication of this until now?!” You feel your mother’s hand grasp your elbow, urging you to stand beside her, silently. “It is the wish of your grandsire, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon). He is dying, do not fight him,” Your head whips aside, meeting her eyes, eyes filled with sadness. Did she know of this? Did she approve of this? Your father would not meet your eyes, nor your brothers, Jace toeing at an invisible stone on the floor. Did they all know, except for you?

You tear your elbow from your mother’s grasp, she opens her mouth to speak once more, but your back is already turned. Your feet lead you towards the grand door. You had to leave, you needed to be anywhere else but here. Your chest tightens, your breathing ragged. Not with sadness or grief, no, but with anger and fury. You feel as though you could breathe fire as the dragons do. An angered scream tears past your lips, reverberating off of the stone walls of the Red Keep.

— — — — — — —

You had decided it best to skip the family feast. And a good thing too, unbeknownst to you it had gone horribly. Lucerys mocking Aemond over the roasted pig, Aemond's “final tribute” to his Strong nephews. No, instead you had taken your dinner in the library, back amongst your beloved books. The sun had set an hour or two ago now, the torches along the halls lit. You didn’t know how late it was, you had been much too absorbed in your novel Lady Coryanne Wylde, A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls.

The wax on the candles had burned low, and your wine had turned cold. It was time to retire. Taking the book with you, you began to make your way toward your chambers, your old chambers. The last time you had slept there you had been but a girl. As you turn the corner you are met with a hard wall of warm, corded muscle. Your book tumbling to the ground. A pair of strong hands plant themselves on your shoulders, to steady you.

“Careful niece, someone might think you are up to no good, wandering the corridors, at night–alone” The smile from earlier returns to his lips, and just then, he notices the book on the floor. His smile becoming impossibly wider, you don’t think you’ve ever really seen Aemond smile, not like this anyway. It’s nice, you think to yourself.

“What’s this dear niece,” he bends down to pick up the novel, his slim fingers sifting through the pages, his eyebrows lifting. “Well, well, who would have thought–”

“Give that back!” You reach to snatch it from him, like a child, but he just holds it higher over his head. “Tell you what, I made a promise to you. Do you remember?” Of course, you remembered, you still thought about it sometimes, but all hope of fulfilling it had left you.

“Yes–” it came out more hoarse than you had intended. Your hand frozen, outstretched, Aemond still held the book over his head.

“Come with me to meet Vhagar, for a ride,” he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Come taste the freedom of the skies with me niece.” He had tucked the book behind his back. Aemond wasn’t a man who typically waited for an answer, nor was he one who liked when people disagreed with him. He’d throw you over his shoulder if he must. Even though his hatred for your family ran deep, he could never seem to hate you. You had endeared yourself to him time and time again as children, but the night he lost his eye. The night you visited him, the only one not angry, the only one not repulsed by his face. He knew then that he could never hate you, no matter how hard he’d tried.

Words had suddenly failed you, your tongue dry. You simply nodded instead. In response, Aemond straightened to his full, imposing height, and turning without a word, he began his stride down the hall, towards the dragon pits. You followed him, but neither of you spoke, the halls of the Red Keep filled with an odd sort of comfortable silence. His hair had grown longer, much longer, and he walked with a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before.

The night air was chill, a slight breeze blew through your hair, tousling the strands. You were glad you had worn a gown with longer sleeves, it must be chilly up in the clouds. Aemond was sporting his riding clothes, the leather over his tunic reaching his wrists. He looked good, really good, you thought to yourself. The flush from earlier returning to your cheeks, as well as the warmth in the tips of your ears.

Aemond comes to a stop before the pits, waiting for you, the book still behind his back, taunting you. You suppose that was his insurance policy in case you had said no to joining him. You can only imagine your father's reaction to seeing you read such debauchery. You were his sweet little girl after all…

“Come now niece, no harm shall come to you while I am near,” He held his hand out to you, and you slipped your fingers between his. His hands are much smoother than the ship captains from earlier, you thought. His hand was warm, the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. The sound of beating wings from up above drew you out of your daze. A dark shadow crossed over the pair of you, coming to land only several passes in front of you. Vhagar stood proud and strong, if not slightly tired. Her form was weathered by time and battle. It’s a blessing from the Gods that she can still take to the skies as she does.

Aemond drew you nearer to her, your hand still held tightly in his, like all those years ago. “Give her a pat, she won’t bite, not unless I tell her to,” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, your eyes widening slightly, making him laugh all the more. “No need to be frightened, she’s quite gentle actually,” He guided your hand up to the beast's snout, his fingers had moved to circle your wrists, making the action easier. Your hand lay splayed out before you against Vhagar’s scales, her skin impossibly hot. The hand on your wrists moves to cover your own on the dragon. From behind you, Aemonds other hand rests on your waist lightly, like a whisper on the wind. Mayhaps this marriage won’t be too bad after all? Your anger from earlier was not directed at him you realize, but rather at the other members of your family. You were never pleased when things were kept from you when you were lied to. You like his hand there, you like it a lot, it provides you a sense of comfort and security as you stand before this large beast. You wonder how his calloused hands would feel elsewhere…

Aemond retracts his hand, yours following closely behind, you can still feel the heat of Vhagar’s scales on the skin of your palms. You begin to be tugged backward in the direction of Vhagar’s saddle. Aemond motions for you to begin climbing the ropes that lead to the mount, he follows behind you; prepared to catch you should the need arise. The saddle is less like a saddle and more like a small chariot on top of the dragon. It comfortably seats the two of you, and could even squeeze in a third.

Aemond positions you in front of him, his legs caging yours, his arms reaching around the front of you to grasp onto the reigns. “Are you ready?” The question is whispered to you, his lips brushing your ear once more as he speaks. You rather like this position, the warmth radiating off of his body will surely keep you warm above the clouds.

“Yes, yes I think I am,” Your own hands come up to rest atop his, surely just to steady yourself, and not at all because you were becoming increasingly more desperate to touch or be touched by the man behind you.

“Sōvēs Vhagar!” Aemond pulls back and yells into the night air, sparring your delicate eardrums. The beast below you growls and jolts into action. She takes a few long strides before beginning to beat her wings, as she takes off into the crisp night air.

Eyes glued shut you think you yell out a little yelp of initial fear and surprise. Aemond’s legs press tighter down on your own as if to reassure you that you are safe with him and his dragon. As Vhagar evens out her flying, coasting just above the clouds, you dare to open your eyes. Behind you, Aemond cannot stop the smile from spreading across his lips, he cannot see your face but he hopes it is a happy one. He’ll take you out flying every day that you are married if it will make you happy. He would burn the world down if it meant he could keep you safe and happy. To make you his.

Truthfully he wasn’t all that surprised by his father’s announcement of your betrothal. As a boy, even before the incident, he had asked his mother and grandsire, Otto, what lords would court you, and if any would be good enough for a princess. It wasn’t until after he lost his eye that he first breached the subject of marriage to his mother. He’d told her he deserved it, that after all the pain he had gone through, it was only fair for him to spend his life beside someone whom he cared so deeply for. At the time his mother had just given him a kiss on the forehead saying “Perhaps one day, we shall see,” A sad smile had crossed her face then.

He’d given up on the hope of marrying for love after that. The ladies of court found him elusive and repulsive, opting to flirt with his brother, despite his marriage to Helaena. A few moons ago, Aegon had made a jest at Aemond’s expense, something about being tied to a Strong for all eternity. He had ignored it, deeming it nothing more than one of his brother's drunken comments. However, after the events of today, it seems he was not jesting after all.

Aemond is broken out of his thoughts by a lovely, bubbly sound. You’re laughing, your arms spread wide, fingers splayed out letting the wind rush through them. He immediately goes to grasp your waist, his legs still caged around yours, steading you, anchoring you to him and the saddle.

“What the sweet Hells are you doing?! Put your hands back on the reigns!” He exclaims. You giggle some more, the wind drying your teeth as you smile.

“I cannot uncle! You were right, this is marvelous! I feel as though I could rule the world from up here!” He had never seen anyone as dazzling as you were in this moment. Vhagar gave a slight jolt as she began to descend back downwards, causing you to jump forward a bit, hands grasping the reigns once more.

“I told you – “ He murmurs against your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. After another moment Aemond begins to guide Vhagar back towards the dragon pits. There’s a strain in his trousers he can ignore no longer. Years of pent-up desire and want boiling over. Ever the gentleman, he assists you in descending the beast. This time he goes first, his hand in yours as he helps you with the final jump down.

“That was incredible, uncle that was truly –” Aemond uses his grip on your hand to tug you forward, clutching you to his chest, his lips meeting yours. You gasp into his mouth, surprised by the boldness of his actions. Before you are given the opportunity to reciprocate, he pulls away, a slight frown on his face.

“My apologies, I should not have–”

“Yes, you should have actually. Why did you stop, I was quite enjoying myself,” You pull on the collar of his tunic, tugging his chapped lips back down to yours. Aemond uses his taller stature to guide you back up against a pillar within the pits. The two of you made only out of sight by half of a pillar, and Vhagar’s sleeping form.

“And what if I were to take you, right here? Right now? Like a scene from your debaucherous novel,” He exclaims, his lips moving, forming a trail from your jaw down to your collarbone. Surely leaving marks, and love bites as he goes. Oh if only his brother could see him now, he thinks that perhaps Aegon would congratulate him on finally “getting it wet”.

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. He was everywhere, all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. The smell of the oils used to wash his hair filled your nostrils, the smokiness from Vhagar had made a home in the threads of his clothes. You’re nearly positive that you must smell similar, you’ll need to get your gown cleaned certainly.

Your hands began to fumble with the belt of his trousers, your fingers making clumsy work of the buckle. Aemond pulls away only for a moment to assist you, then he begins to work on the strings of your corset. His movements were desperate and quick, neither of you having the patience to wait much longer. All the while his lips never left your skin. You feel him smile against your skin as Vhagar makes a slight noise of annoyance at your escapades. Somehow between your messy kisses, your skirts had been rucked up to your hips, Aemond’s deft fingers making contact with your small clothes.

“You’re rather wet dear niece. Do I rile you up so huh? I wonder how wet you’ll be with my cock inside your sweet cunt,” He says that last bit almost more so to himself rather than you. In response, a small whimper escapes your lips. Aemond looks up to meet your eyes. A certain twinkle reflects at you from his.

“Another night I shall spend hours ravishing you, but I need to be inside you, now.” He gives his cock a few strokes, preparing himself. Your eyes widen at the sight, his shaft long and thick, his head red and leaking arousal. It was, invigorating, knowing that you could illicit such a response from him. With a delicate kiss to your lips and one final look of permission, Aemond sheathes himself inside you. Your warm walls squeeze him perfectly, welcoming him in. Gods he could stay right here like this forever.

“ – move. Aemond Gods move please,” You begged him, your walls had adjusted to him. Feeling wonderful and full. He began slow, his thrusts taking on a rhythmic flow. Aemond tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smelling your hair, his grunts and groans in your ear. You drag your nails down his clothed back, perhaps next time you’ll be able to fully leave your marks on his skin. Thank the Gods Vhagar had decided to remain put, it would ruin your honor should anyone find you like this; even though your virtue was promised to him already.

“Fuck– I don’t know if I’ll be able to last much longer ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved). You are just too perfect–” He cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Finish then, let go Aemond, let got for me please, I–” You beg him, you need it just as much as he does.

“Not before you ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).” Aemond moves down to circle your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. The pace of his thrusts picked up, your hands remained looped around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Aemond, oh Aemond, Gods I’m gonna–” The words that left your mouth made hardly any sense. The words and phrases twist and turn into a bizarre hymn to your betrothed.

“Cum, cum for me Jorrāelagon (love), give yourself over to me–” Aemond begged you. His lips biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck. On his command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, like the seas crashing into the shores of Driftmark. You remember drifting off to sleep as a girl to the lullaby of the sea. Aemond’s own release follows closely after your own. Still nestled inside of you, he rests his forehead against yours, sighing contentedly.

“You know, when I was a boy, I had asked my mother to ask Rhaenyra for your hand. I had begged her actually,” He chuckles a bit at his anecdote.

“Did you?” You laugh along with him, less at the story and more so at the ridiculousness of your current situation. You feel him nod, his forehead brushing against yours as he does so.

“Well,” you say in response, “ I had always wanted a dragon of my own. I had begged my mother actually”, you imitate Aemond’s words, giggling a bit as you do, “but now I need not ask any longer. For I have my very own dragon right here.” You place a kiss on his nose as you say this.

“Well my love, no longer shall you be dragonless, not as long as I am around anyways,” Aemond reassures you. He supposed he had two dragons now as well, with Vhagar he would burn the world down, but you gave him a reason to do so. With fire and blood he would protect you, love you, for that is the way of the dragon, that is the way of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your beloved betrothed.

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nebulaafterdark · 3 months

Text

The Rats Pt. 4

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, child birth, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra cannot imagine what might cause such commotion in the middle of the night.

“The dragon keepers have just calmed Sunfyre, who’s been having a fit for the better part of three hours.” Daemon informs her.

“Why is this news?” Rhaenyra wonders, “you needed only to wake Prince Aegon so that he might calm his own dragon.”

“That was my intention, your grace.” Daemon assures her, “until it was brought to my attention that Stormborn had been taken from the pit.”

“Where is she now?”

“Her grace’s dragon has since been returned to the pit.”

“Where is my daughter now?” Rhaenyra asks.

The room falls silent, everyone glancing toward one another.

“We believe the princess to be abed.”

“Not one of you thought to make certain?” The Queen all but shouts, panic coursing through her.

“We thought it best not to disturb the princess while she is abed, your grace.” Not without permission from the queen herself…certainly not after the last time.

Prince Aegon was in quite a state, threatening to castrate any member of the royal guard who happened upon his beloved wife in the throes of passion.

“Never you mind, I will see to her myself.” The Queen stalks down to her daughter’s room, pounding at the door.

It is Aegon who answers, “Rhaenyra?”

“I need to see her.”

Aegon hesitates, looking to his wife, who nods her approval. “She’s just there.” He takes a step back, allowing his half sister entry.

Y/N sits upon her bed in a pristine blush sleeping gown, hair still damp from the bath. “Mother.”

“Tell me the truth of it.” Rhaenyra approaches, hovering over her bedside. “Where were you this night?”

“With Aegon.”

Rhaenyra steals herself, “where were you whilst Sunfyre was howling in the pit? I know you took Stormborn, I have it on good authority. Tell me now, Y/N, where did you go?”

“To Harrenhal.”

Rhaenyra blanches, clutching her chest. “Why?” She sobs, “why would you do such a thing, knowing the risk?”

“Mother, I-”

“I have lost two of my children, I will not survive the loss of a third.”

“I have not done this to harm you, mother. But I am tired of being in pain. You’ve no idea how it feels to be tugged at by opposing sides, until you are torn down the middle.”

“Sweet girl,” Rhaenyra sighs.

“I understand why you needed Aegon and I to marry. I do not fault you for it, but times are different now. I love him, mother. Not for the crown, or the realm, or even peace. He is one half of me.”

“I wish you’d come to me, instead of facing all these troubles alone. I will always be your mother, no matter if you are a woman grown, you will not outgrow my love for you so long as I live.”

Y/N nods. “I love you dearly, mother. I want only to make you proud.”

“I am proud.” Rhaenyra assures her, “you needn’t prove yourself to me.”

“Then might I ask you to set a place for my husband at your table? Say it is not too late.”

“And what of Aemond?” Rhaenyra asks, mulling it over.

“He is gone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes.” Y/N whispers.

“Show me.”

Y/N lifts her nightgown to reveal the charred skin of her wound.

“Alright,” Rhaenyra lowers the material once she’s gotten a good look. She kisses the top of her daughter’s head, “we will have the maester come with salve to dress it.”

Y/N nods.

“Have you taken anything for the pain?”

“Milk of the poppy.”

Rhaenyra’s hand is trembling as it passes over her daughter’s hair a second time. “Aegon, might you bring the maester?”

“Of course,” he nods. Stealing himself before wandering down the hall and away from his beloved wife. Returning with the maester, who begins tending the wound immediately.

“Is there anything else I might get you?” Rhaenyra asks, keeping hold of her daughter’s hand.

Y/N is mostly joking when she murmurs to her mother, “cake?”

Rhaenyra smiles, “I will see to it.”

Y/N relaxes as best she can to the poking and prodding.

“Aegon,” Rhaenyra nods toward the hall, “a word?”

“Of course,” Aegon follows her out.

“I owe you a debt, for taking care of my daughter. Y/N is the world to me, as she is to you.” Rhaenyra says. “Know that as I walk this path to reclaim the throne, we do so hand in hand. We are one house, as our father so willed it.”

Aegon nods, “thank you.”

————————————————————————

Years ago, after the council meeting where Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agreed to the terms of their children’s betrothal; King Viserys himself called for Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N in his quarters.

It is put plainly before them, what is expected. What this union is meant to do; ease the strain between their two families.

“Stand together.” The king insists.

Y/N and Aegon inch toward each other.

“This will be expected of you from now on. You are betrothed, you will act as such.”

“Yes, father.”

“Yes, grandsire.”

At dinners they sit together, during shared lessons, anytime they are in the same room.

Stand together.

The princess continues her training alongside Helaena while her brothers and her betrothed argue regularly. The boys only find common ground when teasing Aemond for not having a dragon.

Queen Alicent appreciates these childish games least of all and raises her concerns with the King.

It is Y/N, having the least to do with any of it, who is summoned by her grandsire and his wife.

“Come sit, darling girl.” Viserys smiles, guiding Y/N over to his model of Old Valyria.

She nods, “thank you, your grace.”

“How are you enjoying your studies?”

“Very well,” Y/N tells him.

“I am glad to hear it. Even the septa has nothing but good things to say. You will make a fine queen, my girl.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. “It pleases me to hear you say this, Grandsire. I wish only to make you proud.”

Viserys takes her hand, “surely you understand that you are a reflection of your mother and myself, in your actions and your words.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N squeezes his fingers.

“The time has come for you to consider those whose actions reflect on you.”

“I do not understand.”

“He is referring to your brothers, who wreak havoc on the whole of us.” Alicent chimes in.

“Oh, Alicent.” Viserys waves her away, “they are boys yet. I meant our Aegon.”

“Aegon?” Alicent scoffs, “those are the actions that trouble you?”

“He will soon be a man grown and future king consort. If he is to marry my granddaughter, he must act with dignity and grace.”

“Do you not see the true issue, your grace?” Alicent demands.

“You asked me to speak with Rhaenyra’s children,” Viserys reminds her, “is this not Rhaenyra’s child?”

Alicent locks eyes with Y/N, she is so young, so eager to please her family. “This child is not the issue.”

“You are correct, dear wife.” The king grins, “she is the solution. Y/N, you will go to Aegon, say what you must to light a fire beneath him. So that he too might behave in a manor befitting his station. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Good,” Viserys releases her, “go now.”

Y/N stands, making her way to the door.

“See how easy that was?” Viserys turns to his wife, now standing with her back to him.

Y/N has some trouble locating the Prince, eventually she happens upon him on the stairs. “Prince Aegon,” she calls his attention.

The boy rolls his eyes at her. “Yes, my betrothed.”

“Might you walk with me to the gardens?”

“Do I have any choice?”

Y/N smirks, with a shake of her head. “No.”

“By all means, lead the way.” Aegon waves a hand, following her like an animal on a chain.

“The king and I had a rather illuminating conversation earlier.”

“And what did you discuss? How elated he is to seat you, a bastard, on the iron throne over me, his first born son?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

“No, though I am sure he will be ‘elated’ to hear that his first born son called me a bastard, in the middle of the garden, for everyone to hear.”

Aegon clears his throat, “I would not say it in front of anyone.”

"This place is crawling with vermin, their eyes and ears are upon us at all times."

"You mean to tell me we have rats?"

"Not everything can be taken so literally, my prince."

Aegon stares through her, every word going over his pretty blonde head.

"Look, there's your father now." Y/N points, "watching us from his balcony."

Aegon whips around, spotting the king.

"Smile and wave, let him believe we are having a grand time."

Aegon does as he's told, earning a nod from Viserys. "Are we not?"

True to his word, Aegon does not call her a bastard again, to her face or behind her back. When Aemond’s eye is lost, the truth of it comes out.

Y/N and Aegon begin moving closer, behind Aemond’s chair. Stand together. Perpetually closing the space between their two houses.

When Alicent scolds Aegon for not protecting his brother, Y/N is near enough to receive a second hand lashing by her tongue. And when his mother’s palm meets his cheek, in a stinging slap, his hair brushes Y/N’s skin.

“What was that for?”

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool.”

“The legitimacy of my children’s births were called loudly to question.” Rhaenyra informs the king. “Vile insults were levied against them.”

“What insults?” Viserys sneers.

“He called us bastards.” Jacaerys says.

“Where did you hear such things, boy?” The king demands of the injured prince.

Aemond is quiet then, not willing to tell the truth. He first heard it from his mother, long before his brother. But Aegon has said it, many a time, before he abruptly stopped. “It was Aegon.”

Viserys rounds the chair, to confront his eldest son, with his eyes cast downward.

By the gods, let this humiliation end swiftly.

“Aegon!”

Stand together.

Y/N must not abandon her post.

“Yes, father.”

“Is this true?”

“It is.” Aegon admits, “and I am sorry for it. I am the elder, I should not have poisoned Aemond’s mind with such hatred. Especially as…these allegations are untrue. It was my mistake, forgive me.”

King Viserys takes a step back, “the next tongue to question the parentage of Princess Rhaenyra’s children will be removed.”

Y/N lets out a shuttering breath, catching her grandsire’s attention.

He offers her a reassuring smile, after threatening to cut out his children’s tongues. It feels wrong to be treated so differently, standing inches apart.

When the preceding is at an end, and Rhaenyra’s blood has been split, Y/N goes to find Aegon. He is tucked in against the grand archway, drowning in cups. "I brought you more wine."

Aegon eyes her warily, accepting the glass, “and what do you want?"

"May I sit with you?"

"If you wish."

Y/N takes a seat on the cool, stone floor beside him. "Thank you, for saying what you did.”

"My mother did not appreciate it."

Y/N hesitates, "I know it is not my place, but I do not like when she strikes you. Perhaps I could discuss it with your father?”

"My father? Who loves me least of all his children?" Aegon shakes his head. "A lot of good that would do.”

"They should not treat you that way."

“You care for me," he realizes. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.

"Should I not?”

"I would not know how to care for you in return."

"You defended me, in front of both our families.” Y/N challenges. “If that is not caring for me, I don't know what is."

Aegon feels the weight of her head resting against his shoulder, and he does not pull away.

"I am sorry for what happened to Aemond. I hope he finds peace and swift healing."

"If it were either of your brothers who’d been maimed, my father would pluck out Aemond’s eye himself and present it to Rhaenyra on a platter. There is no peace in that.”

Aegon becomes fiercely protective of his brother after that.

Y/N does not fault him for it.

The debacle of Driftmark sets their nuptials back several years. The blacks and greens remain in negotiation until Aegon is twenty and one and Y/N is ten and eight. At which point, Viserys proclaims they must either marry before the moon turns, or end the engagement to free both their hands for marriage.

Reluctantly, they are bound before the eyes of thousands.

Stand together.

They recite traditional Valyrian vows, sealing their covenant in blood. Sharing a dance or two before being whisked away to consummate said marriage, as other members of the wedding party drink merrily in the grand hall.

————————————————————————-

“Are they gone?” Y/N asks, toying anxiously with her wedding ring.

“They have strict orders,” Aegon sighs, “the appointed members of council cannot leave until they’ve heard a proper consummation.” He climbs into bed with her, both fully dressed in their marriage attire.

“We best get to it then.” Y/N begins plucking pins from her hair. The tapestry of braids falling free.

“Unless you’d rather have a bit of fun.”

“How do you mean?”

Aegon grins, “we could pretend.”

“Really?”

“This marriage is ours, no one else’s. When I bed you that will be ours and no one else’s.”

Stand together.

“How would we-”

Aegon rises up on his knees, gripping the headboard. “I will do the heavy lifting. Just lie back and think of the crown.”

Y/N covers her face with both hands as he begins thrusting at the air. The springs beneath them groan and crackle.

Aegon peeks down at her to find a smile painted across her lips, despite her shielded eyes. “Let them hear you, sweetheart. Make it believable.”

Y/N nods, releasing a sound she imagines a person might make while exchanging intimacies.

“Not like that.” Aegon chuckles, “they’ll think I’m murdering you.”

“I do not know how.”

“Have you never touched yourself?” He breathes.

“Never.”

Gods, he’s going to enjoy her. “That’s alright,” he continues his movements to jostle the mattress. “Just do as I do.” Aegon lets his mouth fall open, releasing a low moan.

The sound that escapes Y/N in return is not entirely forced. It makes her belly burn with desire.

They continue on like this for a while before Aegon murmurs, “big finish.”

“So quickly?” Y/N’s brow furrows.

Aegon’s eyes flicker about her, “I can’t imagine it will take long.”

As the grand finale comes to a close, Aegon makes for his dagger. Slicing his finger at the tip and allowing blood to pool before dragging the crimson stain across the bed sheet. He strips it from the bed, walking it to the door. “Deliver this to her majesty the Queen. I know she is impatiently waiting.”

Y/N begins pacing, beside the bed.

“They are gone. We are alone.”

She nods, “thank you, Aegon. For all of it.”

————————————————————————-

When Aegon does eventually bed her, it is well worth the wait.

“By the gods, that is not going to fit inside me.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, “I promise it will, darling girl. We must prepare you first.”

“How,” Y/N squeals.

He hushes her, lying open mouthed kisses across her collarbones.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if I can help it.” He plans to burying his face between her thighs and bring her to the heavens. But the sweet little thing wants only to be held, kissed. Aegon lies beside her, one hand stroking her dark hair, the other moving down to her breasts, kneading them gently.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes.

“As are you.” She pants, moving her lips against his.

Aegon chuckles, “flattery will get you places.” He rolls her nipple between his fingers, flicking over it with the pad of his thumb.

Her hips rise of their own accord, grinding herself against his entwined leg.

“Slowly, my darling.”

Y/N nods, kissing him again to distract herself from the building ache between her legs.

Feather light caresses trail down to her sex, collecting a bit of wetness and slipping a finger into her heat. Pumping slowly, getting her used to the sensation.

“That feels nice.” She breathes, tugging at his hair.

Aegon smiles, “can you take another?”

“Yes.”

Aegon adds a second digit, working her open, pushing a bit deeper to her sweet spot. His fingers curl against it, relishing her little gasps. The princess is close now.

“Ahh,” she grasps his forearm.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

“I-”

“Don’t cry.” By the seven, she is gripping his fingers like a vise.

“I cannot help it.” Her thighs tremble in earnest now.

“That is your peak, darling girl. You’re alright, I promise.” He continues stroking, pressing the base of his hand flush with her swollen pearl, applying gentle pressure until she finds bliss. He pets at her hair as she cries out. “Good girl,” he coos, working her through the crest and bringing her back down.

“That was heavenly,” she sighs, steadying her breathing.

You are heavenly.

“Might we do it again?”

Aegon chuckles, “as many times as you’d like.”

————————————————————————

In the early days of their marriage, Aegon realizes that his wife has a nasty habit of bedding him and waiting until he finds sleep to sneak off. Holding after hours council with her mother.

The practice itself does not upset him, but this night, her absence is especially troubling, as they have been drinking since dinner. His sweet wife is not well versed in wine drinking. She laughed so hard she cried and then rode him to kingdom come.

Aegon tosses back the covers, pulling on his clothes and moving quickly through the halls of the keep. He rounds the nearest corridor, colliding with his wife, running at full speed. “Sweetheart?”

“I was looking for you,” Y/N smiles.

“Where have you been?”

“Well, I could not find sleep so I went to the maester to ask for a draft.”

“Then you’ve been to the maester?” Aegon holds her at arms length, searching for any sign of harm.

“I was on my way to the maester when I happened across one of the groundskeeper’s wives and we got to talking.” Y/N admits, with a hiccuping laugh.

“What could you possibly be talking about for over an hour?”

“Just about everything, she is a lovely woman.” Y/N tells him.

Aegon nods, with a patient smile.

“I might have stayed longer, but it came up in conversation…all the ways a woman might please her husband. And I could not wait to tell you.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

“The smallfolk share things in the marriage bed I’ve never even heard of.” Y/N muses. “She told me that, on occasion, she puts his cock between her breasts and he-”

“Who is this woman, my darling? Did you get a name?”

“I do not remember her name. I’ve been drinking.”

“I’m well aware,” Aegon’s face softens. “Next time you cannot find sleep, wake me instead.”

Y/N nods.

“In return, I will teach you all the things a husband and wife might do together. I will even demonstrate, should you find it necessary.”

“Oh, could you?” Y/N grabs for his hands, in excitement.

Aegon sighs, “you will be the death of me.”

She leaves him little notes each time after, when she must go to attend her family.

‘My dearest Aegon, I will return soon. I could not stand to wake you from such a peaceful slumber. Worry not, I will always return to you.’

And she does, after council meetings and late nights with her mother. She always returns.

————————————————————————

After a particularly long week, Aegon avoids Y/N purposely. Attempting to clear the room when he finds her there.

“Have I done something?” Y/N stops him.

Aegon shakes his head, “it has been a long day. I do not wish to burden you.”

“When you are upset you may come to me.”

Aegon fights the urge to pull away, to ignore her until she leaves.

“I will hold you.” It isn’t much, but it is all she knows. The way her mother comforts her.

Aegon says nothing, sitting down to bury his head in his hands.

Y/N sighs, winding her arms around his shoulders, feeling them begin to shake.

He reaches for her slowly, as if such comfort might burn him, or she would simply bat his hand away. She doesn’t of course, she allows him to bring her closer, now seated in his lap.

The princess says not a word as her husband works himself free of his breeches. Taking her small clothes and skirt aside.

“It helps,” he tells her. “You help.”

He goes to her then, when the day is long. When there is news to share, on occasion, just to say hello. He goes to her because he can.

————————————————————————-

During dinners at the Red Keep they whisper secrets and share hushed laughter. When he grows tired of that, Aegon’s fingers toy with her pretty little cunt beneath the table, to watch her squirm.

“I love you.” He confesses, meeting her gaze as she turns to him at the height of her pleasure.

Y/N bites down on the inside of her cheek, holding perfectly still as Aegon works her through her peak. Withdrawing his fingers and wiping them clean on the fabric of her skirts. “I love you.”

No one is the wiser. Save for Otto, who knows all; or rather likes to believe he does.

Gone is any hope that the blacks or greens might use their influence to sway the tides from one side to another. Y/N and Aegon belong to each other now, a danger in its own right.

News of the princess’s pregnancy sparks a joyous celebration throughout the realm, only to be outshone by news of the birth. Two perfect little girls. Twins, named Dahlia and Visera, respectively.

“They are perfect, my dearest love.” Aegon marvels when they are placed in his arms.

Y/N nods.

“Are you well?” He asks, swaying from side to side.

Whether from weariness or the question itself, Y/N bursts in to tears.

Aegon carefully gives his daughters over to the maids. Climbing onto the freshly dressed bed with Y/N to hold her, stroking dark locks. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“It was awful,” Y/N sobs, clutching at him.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Everyone was barking commands at me, trying to rush the babe out, even worse with the second and my mother was the one person speaking against it.”

“Oh, my darling girl.” He sighs.

“I was tired and frightened…and the pain is unimaginable. I do not wish to do it again.”

Aegon sways her gently, “I am so terribly sorry.”

“You are the only person I wanted and I could not h-have you.”

“We will deliver the next just the two of us, if it pleases you.” Aegon promises.

“Your mother will never allow that.”

“She will not know.” Aegon kisses her cheek.

Y/N pulls back just enough to see him. “If you’re certain.”

“I am. Calm yourself now, my only love. This is a day of happiness.” Aegon dries her tears, “I should like to soak up every moment here, with the three of you.”

Y/N nods, “I would like that very much.”

At the prince’s request, Visera and Dahlia are returned to them.

Aegon takes his second born, tracing the soft lines of her little face, committing them to memory. “Papa loves you.”

Y/N grins at the sight, her own finger clutched in her eldest daughter’s fist.

It comes as a shock to only Alicent when Dahlia Targaryen is named their heir; with her claim upheld by Viserys himself. Aegon does not need a son, his daughters are his legacy.

They attend small council meetings as they grow, with Dahlia seated on her grandsire’s lap.

“Mama,” Visera pounds at the table, drawing attention from the other seats.

“What is it, my darling girl?” Y/N hushes her, hoping to hear their current positions on livestock.

The little girl reaches for the ball again. “Please?”

“What is it she wants?” Aegon asks, from beside his wife, pecking kisses to his daughter’s outstretched hand.

“The ball.” Y/N whispers.

“Ahh,” Aegon smiles, taking his ball in hand and turning it over to Visera. “There we are.”

“You’ll spoil her rotten.”

“Just like her mother, hmm?” Aegon jests, “that is the goal.”

Y/N bites back a grin, passing a hand over her daughter’s light hair.

Their daughters celebrate their third name day before the princess is expecting again.

“There seems to be only one of you in there, I fear.” Aegon whispers to the child in Y/N’s belly, pressing kisses to her skin.

“You fear?” His wife smiles.

“You see, three is an odd number, this child will need a companion.” The prince reasons.

Y/N doesn’t argue, listening to Aegon speak with their unborn babe until she falls asleep.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s term is nearly complete when Aegon finds his wife, holding their wailing daughters in her arms. One on each side of her belly.

“What’s happened?” Aegon asks.

Y/N looks to him, “the girls were playing and Visera closed the door on Dahlia’s finger by mistake. Now they are both inconsolable.”

Aegon reaches for his eldest daughter, “let Papa see, which finger is hurt.”

“My little finger,” Dahlia cries, presenting the red, angry digit.

“That does look terrible painful, my dearest love.” Aegon says, after carefully examination.

“I must have the maester.”

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Aegon presses feather light kisses to her hand. “We need a cold compress is all.”

The maids rush out to fulfill his request.

Dahlia rests her head against her father’s shoulder as she waits, sniffling while he rubs circles into her back.

“See there, darling girl? Your sister is alright.” Y/N gentles Visera, who is feeling incredibly guilty.

“I did not mean to.”

“Of course not, my love.” Aegon says, “twas only an accident.”

The rest of their day is spent playing dolls and Aegon giving pony rides. Which, while ridiculous, does serve as a form of entertainment for Y/N who sits aside to watch.

She may give birth any day now and she feels every bit uncomfortable, still she welcomes Dahlia into her lap as she waits for her turn on Aegon, the noble steed.

“Trot,” Visera orders, with a smile across her face.

“Trot?” Aegon laughs, “shall I do tricks for you as well, your grace?”

Y/N shakes her head, locking eyes with her husband; she mouths a single word, “spoiled.” She kneads the ache in her lower back with her free hand. Ignoring it through supper and long after Dahlia and Visera are asleep.

Aegon notices the way she keeps clutching at it. “Perhaps a warm bath might help.”

“That would be nice,” she croaks out.

“Might it be your labors, darling girl?”

“It is all in my back,” she does not recall hardly any pain in her back, whilst laboring with the twins. “I must have pulled it.”

“The girls are getting bigger, perhaps it’s best if you do not lift them, in this condition.” Aegon kisses her cheek, dashing off to find a maid.

Y/N inhales, closing her eyes to the dull throbbing ache. Even the tub does not help, she climbs back into bed, hoping to sleep it off, but the pain only intensifies.

“This must be more than a muscle.” Aegon whispers, lying behind her. Continuing to knead her hips at her request.

“It is my labors.” My chokes out.

“You’re certain?”

Y/N nods, “my waters just broke.”

Aegon presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Is there anything I might do for you?”

She shakes her head. “Walking will help the babe come down, I must stand.”

Aegon springs from the bed, helping her upright.

“Fuck.” She hisses, beginning to pace their rooms.

Aegon follows, unsure what else to do.

She reaches out for him after a while, when the pain is so great all she wants is an ounce of comfort.

“I’m here.” Aegon murmurs, wrapping her in his arms as she sways gently from side to side.

Y/N clings to her husband, breathing him in. Focusing her attention on the sweetness of his words, to distract herself from her labors. “I’ll need to push soon.”

“Of course,” Aegon’s done his best to prepare himself. Studying whatever books he could manage, without drawing attention from prying eyes. Highborn ladies do not have children delivered by their husbands.

Queen Alicent will be livid when she finds out, but it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Y/N climbs atop the bed, remaining modestly covered.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, my darling. I’ve seen your cunt a hundred times.” Aegon flips her nightgown up, positioning her legs apart, bent at the knee. “There we are.”

“This is different, surely.” Y/N bares down as her belly contracts.

“Yes and no,” he pats her thigh.

She keeps a firm grip on his hand, crying out despite her best efforts.

“Alright, that’s alright.” Aegon scrambles for something to muffle it. “Might this work?” His belt.

“Yes.” Y/N takes it from him, stuffing the leather strap into her mouth. She is not entirely silent, little whimpers escape, though not enough to alert the guards.

Aegon is patient, kind, whispering words of encouragement. He never rushes her, brushing his hands across her skin. “There you go, my dearest love.” He can see the child’s head now.

Her eyes water, gritting her teeth so tightly they ache.

“Breathe.”

Y/N draws in a breath through her nose, releasing it in a strangled manner, akin to a dying animal.

“Good girl,” Aegon is prepared to catch the infant.

The princess’s head falls back as the child emerges, connected to her by only the afterbirth.

“Slippery little fellow, aren’t you?” Aegon coos, holding his son in his arms.

The infant begins to wail.

“A boy?” Y/N pants, tossing the belt away to catch her breath.

“Yes, my darling girl.” Aegon grins, “how are you?”

There is still pain, there will always be pain, but it is largely outweighed by the image of Aegon holding their son. She bursts into tears, “I am well.”

“Oh dear,” he frowns, carefully maneuvering his newborn son. He lies the infant against her chest, leaning down to comfort her as best he can. “Was it not what you wanted?”

“It was better, my love.” Y/N assures him, counting their babe’s tiny fingers. “I am overjoyed.”

“Overjoyed,” Aegon huffs, clunking his forehead against hers. “Of course that is why you’re crying.”

The maesters come after a while, to be sure that Y/N and the babe are well. After receiving the all clear, they are finally able to rest. Waking early in the morn to present the newest member of their family.

Y/N is tired and sore, even now, lying abed doesn’t suit her. She sits upon a cushion, in a loose fitting gown, tracing the slope of her new babe’s nose. “Are you nearly ready, my love?”

“Nearly,” Aegon remarks. While fastening his breeches he discovers the shapes notched into his belt. He lets out a laugh.

“What is it?” Y/N smiles.

“Look,” he rounds the stool, jutting out his hips.

“Your cock?” The princess arches a brow. “I have seen it.”

“Here, darling girl.” He grins, tracing the outline of her indentations. “From your teeth.”

Her cheeks heat up, “you must take it off.”

“Take it off?” Aegon frowns, “this is a badge of honor. I will wear it day in and day out.”

“You are insufferable,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon pecks a kiss to her parted lips, silencing any protest and setting off to gather the rest of their children.

Y/N dearly misses her mother and brothers in Dragonstone.

————————————————————————

In the months after Laenor’s birth Y/N begins searching for a teacher willing to help her learn a skill most princesses never acquire. Leading her to seekout a man she never has before.

“I want to train by the sword.”

Aemond pauses his sparring practice. “Surely I misunderstand you, dear niece.”

“You are the best, I require a tutor.” Y/N puts it plainly.

“I must be, if you are asking me, of all people.”

“I will admit, you were not my first choice. But Aegon refuses to so much as raise a sword against me and my brothers never cared for knocking me down; where as you will have no qualms about it.”

Aemond smirks, “this is true.”

“I also thought it might be a way for you and I to come together…as family.”

Aemond squares his shoulders, “very well then. Take up your sword.”

The two of them have something in common at long last, until Princess Y/N falls pregnant again, some months later.

Viserys’ condition continues to deteriorate, it is unclear if he will survive to see Y/N and Aegon’s fourth child. As luck would have it, he is lucid when the Prince and Princess present their second son, Prince Aegon, fourth of his name.

“Well done, my girl.” The king manages.

Y/N smiles, “Aegon helped.”

“I should expect so,” Viserys laughs.

“I meant only that he too deserves a job well done.”

Viserys looks to her, as if seeing her for the first time. Then turning to his son he whispers, “well done, my boy.”

Aegon is taken aback, “thank you, father.”

————————————————————————

News of Lord Corlys Velaryon’s injury in the Step Stones brings forth Vaemond Velaryon’s petition to be named his brother’s successor over Lucerys.

This business, however unpleasant, brings Rhaenyra and her children back to King’s Landing.

“We were planning to visit in a few months time, after the babe was born.” Rhaenyra tells her daughter. “But it is always a joy to see you, darling girl.”

Y/N hugs her mother, tightly, “I’ve missed you.”

Rhaenyra strokes a hand over her daughter’s hair. “I have missed you terribly.”

King Viserys musters his last bit of strength to affirm his position for Lucerys and make known that his daughter, Rhaenyra, will always be the true heir to the throne.

They break bread, the blacks and greens together, once the petition is settled. Getting along for a time, until the king is taken back to his chambers to rest. A fight breaks out between Jace, Luce and Aemond, causing Rhaenyra’s untimely departure. She intends to return alone, on dragon back, after the children are settled at home.

Y/N finds sleep that night with a renewed sense of peace, waking to anything but.

Aegon is in an odd state of dress, as if he’s thrown clothes on in the dark. Pacing at the foot of their bed; muttering to himself.

“Aegon?” The princess rubs at her eyes, hoping to make sense of it.

“My father is dead.”

Y/N sucks in a breath.

“My mother and grandsire are gathering the smallfolk for my coronation, in the dragon pit.”

“Why? Alicent herself said that my mother would make a fine Queen only hours ago.”

“In the end it was my name Viserys spoke,” Aegon whispers. “To my mother, on his deathbed.”

Oh no, gods no. Viserys wouldn’t. “What exactly did he say?”

“It matters not, my dearest love. I intend to uphold your mother’s claim.”

“How?” By taking her throne?

“I know you do not trust my family, as well you shouldn’t. You know my heart, you know what I want. They are rushing into this because they know it is wrong. I have pleaded with them, to no avail.” Aegon says. “If it is a performance they demand, so that we might seize the crown to later unfuck this line of succession, it is a performance they will have.”

Y/N nods, pressing a hand to her chest, in a desperate attempt to settle her breathing.

“We’re going to wash you up and dress you in the finest gown the realm has ever seen. Then you are going to stand at my side as they bend the knee, to try it on for size. Think of it as preparation for the day you are crowned our true queen, after your mother has ruled for a great many years.”

Again she nods.

“Are you calm enough now or do you still need me?” Aegon asks, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“I need you.”

Stand together.

————————————————————————

In nearly two days time the realm is divided, half of them devoted to Rhaenyra’s claim, the other half to Aegon’s. After Aegon is crowned, Otto Hightower continues to play his hand.

“What are we to do?” Y/N wonders.

“My mother sent Aemond to Storm’s End. Lord Baratheon was easily swayed by the promise of Daeron’s hand for one of his daughters.”

“That is good, is it not? An ally of ours is an ally of my mother’s, in time.”

“There is more,” Aegon admits, wringing his hands.

Y/N laces their fingers together instead, “speak it.”

“I wish so badly that I did not have to tell you.”

“Please, Aegon.” She insists.

“There was an incident.”

Y/N nods, urging him to continue.

“Between Aemond…and your brother Lucerys.”

“What?” Her eyes brim with tears, as though her heart already knows.

“Lucerys was there, delivering a message from your mother. Aemond followed him, on dragon back. I do not think Aemond meant to truly harm him.” Aegon watches the lone drop of moisture cascade over her cheek. “Lucerys is dead.”

The princess’s knees buckle and she falls, with pain in her chest is so great, her lungs cannot expand.

Aegon gentles her to the floor, into his lap as she sobs so violently it shakes the pair of them. There is nothing he can say, and so he holds her, until she has no tears left.

The next weeks drag on quite the same, they pretend for their children, but Y/N struggles.

She sits the small council meeting, listening to news of Rhaenyra’s blockade and its effect on the kingdom.

The doors push open, revealing Aemond.

Y/N nearly churns. Balling her hands so tightly into fists the nails break skin.

“The key to victory is through the Riverlands.” Aemond narrates, “we need to establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.”

Y/N pushes away from the table, trembling with the force of her rage.

Aegon reaches for her, feeling his heart sink as she backs away, with both arms wrapped around herself. Trapped beneath the watchful eyes of the council. “My darling, I did not invite him here.”

“Tis true,” Aemond confirms, “I am here of my own volition.”

There is that, at least.

“Do you have something to say, my queen?”

Y/N’s back remains to Aemond, and the strategy board, “Prince Aemond is a traitor and a murderer, who deserves to swing in the streets for what he has done. Instead he attends meetings of the small council. It is clear I hold little value to any member of this court. I will not sit here and listen to this depravity.”

“Y/N.” Aegon rises from his seat, shifting between feet, anxiously.

“I am through, my king.”

Aegon recoils as if she’s slapped him.

“Unless you are commanding me to stay,” she replies, with venom in her voice.

“Of course not, my dearest love.”

Y/N exits the double doors, moving down the hall at record speed.

Aegon twirls the council ball between his fingers to settle his racing heart. This was once his father’s seat, where his children would sit, back when all was as it should be. Now his children are not welcome and his wife would sooner abandon ship than remain at his side. “Get out.” He says to his brother.

Aemond sighs.

“Get out!” Aegon slams his fist against the table, “from now on, you will make yourself scarce amongst these halls. If you happen across my wife, you will make haste in the opposite direction, she will not be forced to look upon your face again. Do you understand?”

Aemond bows his head, “as you wish, your grace.”

Y/N retreats to her children’s rooms, finding them empty. They must be in with Helaena’s twins again. She finds the six of them in Jaehaera’s room, playing together while Helaena sews her tapestry.

“How is it coming along?” Y/N asks, taking a seat beside her.

“Quite well.”

“Glad to hear it.” Y/N taps at her wedding ring, “do you find it relaxing? Mayhaps I should take up sewing.”

“I’m afraid.” Helaena says, setting her work aside.

“Of what?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“The rats.”

Y/N nods, hoping to understand. “What is it about them that frightens you?”

Helaena falls silent, a far off look in her eyes.

“I could look into them.” Y/N offers, instead. “The rats.”

Helaena blinks at her. “Would you?”

“Yes, of course. Perhaps with proper knowledge of their ways you need not fear them.”

Helaena smiles, “that would be nice.”

“I will head down to the library then, once the children are abed.”

After their baths, princess Y/N brushes through each of her children’s hair in turn. Her two year old son sits in her lap first. Laenor’s hair has wave to it, like Aegon’s. She twists a bit of it around her finger.

“Mama,” the little boy begins bouncing, impatiently.

“Yes, sweet boy?”

“All done,” he tells her.

Y/N huffs a laugh, squeezing him in a hug before releasing him, “off you go then.”

Laenor giggles, bounding away happily.

“Alright, my darling girls, who is next?”

Dahlia looks to Visera, who stares back at her, exclaiming in unison, “I am!” The pair comes charging at her, landing in the small space, side by side.

“My goodness, you have gotten so big.” Y/N groans as she repositions them. Taking turns swiping the bristles through their long, silver, hair before weaving in simple braids, one down each of their backs.

“Where is father?” Dahlia wonders.

Y/N swallows, “performing his duties.”

“What about us?” Visera asks.

“Your father loves you dearly,” Y/N kisses each of their heads. “He wants nothing more than to be with you. Sometimes there are things we must do, for the sake of the crown that require us to be parted from those we love, for a short while.”

The girls nod.

“One day, when you are grown, you will understand. In the meantime, please know that his heart is with you, always. He will never be far.”

Visera and Dahlia turn, holding their mother tight.

“I will see you on the morrow.” Y/N pats their backs, watching them take to their beds.

Her youngest child is brought to her last, wrapped in a silk blanket and wailing at the top of his lungs.

Y/N stands to collect him. “Now, now, my prince, what business do you have causing all that fuss?” Y/N coos at the babe in her arms.

Aegon the fourth quiets instantly, staring up at his mother while kicking his little legs.

“That’s what I thought.” Y/N remarks, sitting down in the arm chair to rock him to sleep. “You are so loved, my darling.” She strokes his dark hair and his tired eyes begin to close, “sweet dreams.”

With the prince safely abed, Y/N leaves the children in the care of their guards and maids, to see what books they might have about rats in the library. The selection is limited, of course, so she decides on a bound copy recounting the great plague. Its pages contain great detail about the little critters and their lives.

She finds herself more engrossed in it than she could have anticipated. The princess hardly hears her husband enter their rooms.

“What story is that now, my dearest love?” He asks, shucking off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.”

Part 5

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emmaofnormandy · 2 months

Text

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children.

Warnings: fluff all the way; canon divergence; long post.

( @dracaryxzs for you! One hopes you might like seeing Aegon happy here)

***

• How it all began…

You are his twin, his other half… What one feels the other feels it too. Naturally, as a result, bond came. Courtiers like to say how “wherever the Lord Aegon goes, Lady Y/N is after him like a loyal puppet.”

What they don’t understand is that you and him are two sides of the same coin, blood of dragon, despite the prince calling you his sun, to which he himself gravitates.

“I cannot not believe you are never bored whenever we are together”, says Aegon.

You both are blossoming into youth. You are the only one he trusts, the one he is naturally charmed to. But something about his age doesn’t let him admit there are feelings too.

“I am unlike any other”, you tell him in turn, a smile on your rosy lips. “We came together to this world, Aegon.”

He gives you a shy smile, lowering his gaze—you tamed him, like, it is said, your grandmother had tamed her husband, your grandsire, when they were both the same age.

Lively and so full of life, not even Aegon can deny you anything.

“Let us ride, shall we?”

And not waiting for a response, he takes you by the hand and in between giggles and chuckles the two of you go after your respective dragons.

Sunfyre has been enamored by Dreamfyre and as a result the female dragon has put some eggs. As soon as you are told this, you tell the object of your affections that:

“See, Egg? Evident signs that we are bonded right here”, and you show him the different coloured eggs.

Aegon smiles at you. How can you make him forget the scars of his troubled soul? How can you even sweep away grey clouds, making it seem that it is possible to find happiness?

When looking at your serenity, at how beaming you are before the eggs you cling yourself to, the prince sees himself in you.

You are the light of my world, Y/N.

As if you feel the tenderness his thought emanates, you turn your head at him and give him an egg.

“We are grandparents now, I’m afraid.”

That makes him cackle. A sound so rejoicing, full of life. Few could tell to have ever heard Lord Aegon laugh merrily.

“Too young for that. Come, Y/N!” And then turning to Sunfyre, Aegon is the image of a boy who finds love and happiness where at home such were taken from him.

You smile warmly when seeing the golden dragon almost smiling itself the moment he welcomes his rider.

A bond as strong as the one I have with my beloved.

Then you are distracted by nearly losing balance when Dreamfyre comes at you, resting her head against your face.

“Calm down, girl. I am not as heavy as you are”, you giggle, gently laying your head over the scales of your dragon, whom you claimed when you were ten years old. “Ready to fly high? To some adventures, eh?”

A sound comes from your dragon’s throat. It’s almost as if she speaks excitedly: “Aye, let us go! I’m ready for it!”, which only increases your good mood.

Now here you two are, flying synchronized, one being the extension of the other. Skies may have some clouds, but sun shines high with some warm breeze that announces summer.

“I suggest we could fly atop Dragonstone”, you tell Aegon over your shoulder. “There’s a spot no one goes there.”

“Rhaenyra is settled there with her children”, says Aegon with an unread expression.

You shrug your shoulders.

“So what? I’ve been there frequently and not once she scoffed me off. I doubt she ever knew I flew to this spot.”

And you flash him a mischievous smirk.

Aegon laughs in turn, realizing he’s unable to deny you anything. Flying as high as he could, there’s little need to tell Sunfyre where to go. As if the creature captured the rider’s thoughts, he flies exactly to where he wants… as does Dreamfyre.

It is almost as if both dragons suspect something may come up… even if you and Aegon don’t know that yet.

There is a lake in the midst of vast forests, where silence reigns and there is no sign of any living being. A few hills here and there separate the spot of the rest of Dragonstone.

“How did you come here?”, Aegon inquires you, intrigued by this unusual place. Hardly a man acostumed to wild life, his eyes scan these new surroundings with a mix of suspect and curiosity.

You are untying your hair and loosening your gown—you often ride Dreamfyre in your feast gowns, much to the Queen’s dismay— when you say:

“I don’t think I fit very well at court. I tend to flee whenever I can.”

Aegon is somewhat distracted by your curves, and how poorly hidden your curves are beneath the fabric you dress. He swallows hard, then says:

“We are betrothed. One day you’ll be queen.”

You flash him another of your typical mischievous smirks.

“When have I never performed my duties, brother?”

Aegon shakes his head, but he’s chuckling when he comes next to you.

“Well?”, you tilt your head and the prince seems to notice how handsome you look, wild and free—the way you are born to be. “Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

“Is that a challenge?”, he asks you in a whisper.

You like how he looks at you. Maybe this makes your nipples hard. And maybe this makes him burning inside.

“Perhaps.”

And without waiting for a response, you jump in. Aegon smirks, soon following you.

***

• Summer Children.

His kiss is indescribable. No words can do justice to the warmth his breath gives you, to the bliss it inspires you, to the affection it craves in you. Oh, where are the words when we need most?

Whispers at court regard you and Aegon as the “Baelon and Alyssa” of your age, perhaps two souls reincarnated. Whatever the truth, all you can think about is the taste of his lips against yours.

Not only that, there is more to inspire. As you are riding Dreamfyre in the absence of your lover—he’s been summoned by your father to attend the council—, summer breeze cannot cool down the heat in your heart. And you still recall that night.

Where no living being is found amidst corridors, when, for a moment of weakness, no guard lies awake; when unprotecting is at stake… Here he comes, visiting you.

Boldly so, his steps are silent—right under his demeanor there is a haunted boy, famine for affection, filled with desire to please… but above all, a very insecure man who needs to play pretend before all.

Even though you are not like any other, being in fact the only one who’s witnessed his fragility, he remains blunt in his manners.

Yet when the door opens… and you stand there in your line nightgown with your hair loose, his confidence dies.

“I feared you’d not come”, but there is nothing blunt or arrogant in how you welcome him; but rather tenderness from the moment he’s engulfed in your arms. “I missed you, Aegon. Too much I long for you.”

“My dear Y/Nickname…”, he buries his head against your neck and from the moment he inhales your scent, no pride is strong enough to resist the obvious. “In vain have I struggled to repress my sentiments for you.”

Hearing these words give you the reassurance you’ve been longing.

“Oh you took long enough, didn’t you? I’ve been kept in waiting, but it was worth it.”

One kiss and you are doomed. Aegon waits no longer, not anymore. He takes hold of your face and presses his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slamming the door as he leads the way.

“You must promise, though”, you push him away gently, much to his frustration. But you need to be sure… just in case.

“Anything”, his voice comes out in a plea.

You raise your eyebrows and Aegon, though sensing what might be asked of, is willing to pay the price. He is not letting go of you.

“No more whoring. I am no woman of sharing”, you tell him seriously.

Aegon smiles warmly, but you spot relief behind his eyes. He grabs you by the waist and says:

“I am yours and yours alone, Y/N. We came out to this world together, didn’t we? So we are dying together as well.”

“That is some drama you put in there, love”, you smirk before clashing your lips against his.

That night you came to learn you loved riding your dragon and we are not talking about Dreamfyre.

Nine moons later, the results of you and Aegon’s indiscretion comes to the world with a very strong pair of lungs.

“Here comes a very strong prince”, so announces the midwife.

You are exhausted after almost 12 hours in labour, a puddle of sweat and blood, but from the moment you are told you delivered a boy, you beamed proudly:

“I performed my duty well.”

Aegon, in the meantime, is left waiting outside, pacing impatiently in the corridors.

“One wonders what witchcraft has Y/N used to keep you in this state”, muses Aemond in his unusual show of sense of humor.

The prince of Dragonstone doesn’t bother answering Aemond, rather limiting to shooting a glare. It’s when Princess Helaena comes with a smile on her lips.

“My brothers.”

“We salute you well, sister. But pray tell us the news soon: is Y/N well? How’s the child?”

“She is doing great, Aegon. She’s recovering and getting some rest. As for the child… congratulations! You have a healthy baby boy!”

Aegon is paled by the news and even Aemond gets somewhat concerned with his older brother, holding him by his elbows.

“Are you well?”

“A boy”, he mumbles. “Y/N gave us a boy.”

“Our line is safe”, Aemond agrees. Then turning at Helaena, he asks: “Has the name been chosen?”

“Well, Y/N wants a traditional name… so she decided to have the boy named after you, Aegon.”

No one had ever seen the prince Aegon this overjoyed. The way he smiles… who wouldn’t be captivated by this sight? Even Aemond smiles too at this sight. Of all the misadjusted family, at least two of them found happiness… though when Helaena looks at him, he’s not too far from it himself.

“I must see her!”

Ignoring Helaena’s advice that no man is allowed in these chambers, Aegon, tradition-breaker, storms inside, demanding to see you.

You have just left your privy quarters dressed in a line nightgown with your hair wet and recently brushed when he comes at you.

“Husband!”, you giggle quietly when you are engulfed by his strong arms. “You should wait for me. I am not churched yet and we must…”

“Fuck traditions. I wanted to see my wife”, says he, peppering your face with tender kisses before looking at you with the devotion of a lover. “Are you well?”

You cast him the most infatuated glance to him, locking your hands around his neck as if there were no witnesses in the room.

“I am, thank you. Nothing that I could not handle myself”, you assure him. “Aegon, I performed my duties. I gave you a son.”

“Even if it wasn’t, as long as the child is healthy and you are healthy too, nothing else matters”, he whispers in your ear.

The prince cannot state enough his relief in seeing you well and safe. By how he holds you close, it is as if he needs another reassurance that childbirth will not steal you of him.

Feeling his fears, you raise your chin and give him that blunt gaze that marks your lively personality which he’s familiar with.

“I have no intention in leaving you alone in this world, unless you choose another to be in my place.”

Aegon gives you a meaningful look before snorting and scoffing at the same time.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! How could you possibly consider I’d find a substitute for you? I thought you knew me better, woman.”

You both share a quiet laugh before kissing as if to seal an unspoken vow. Not too far from the scene is the Queen, with her father by her side.

“Who’d know this was coming?”, she sighs, content with the merry scene that rolls before her gaze. “I may have been deprived of happiness myself, but on the other hand… thankfully such a burden is not placed on the shoulders of mine own offspring.”

“Do not be so dramatic, Alicent. This match is as fruitful as yours was”, says Otto, nonchalantly like usual. “But at times even I admit that I can see Baelor and Alyssa once more.”

A struggle he keeps to himself, since Otto and Baelor never saw eye to eye. Leaving such personal haunting aside, eventually this summer prince also named Aegon is seen placed in the arms of his mother.

“He’s a lovely child”, murmurs Aegon, whose head is now resting over your shoulder. “I cannot stop looking away of his delicate features.”

“Perhaps you should hold him”, you suggest in a whisper since the regal baby is asleep in your arms.

“I do not wish to wake him up”, says your husband, though you may detect a degree of panic in his voice.

You find his concern adorable, respecting his time. This afternoon, you and him watch over your newly born soon in great delight of how your love produced a handsome baby.

“Our summer prince”, you beam at him.

Aegon shares a smile with you. He looks thrilled before kissing your forehead.

“I cannot believe I am his father.”

“A doting father as I’m sure you will be.”

At times he doubts it, but this is a shadow he is unwilling to cast in such a bright moment. All Aegon can say is:

“Thank you for believing in me.”

He does blush though when you kiss his cheek and tell him in turn:

“How could it be otherwise? As my other half, you shall burn as bright as any dragon, my sun and stars.”

***

Little Egg, as he is called, is getting every attention Aegon’s father never bother doting his son. Whilst you are breast feeding, just nine months later his birth, a baby girl whom you named Alysanne after your favourite ancestor, father and son are found together at the nunnery.

“Your mother told me she plans to take you and Dear Alys to fly our dragon. I am not discouraging her, but we should best wait for a litttle bit, uh?”, says the protective father whilst rocking his lively and often chuckling boy in his arms. “Oh so you think this is funny? Are you planning to take after your great-grandparents?”

Aegon is holding him still, playing with the boy when the moment is interrupted by a maid.

“Excuse me, sire. His lordship must be fed. And your lady wife has summoned you.”

“Very well”, he stands, with the prince in his arms. “Before I handle you my precious jewel, Lady H/N, I must be certain you have been fed well. After all, you are responsible for feeding my child.”

“Indeed, lord. I am healthy and robust from the day I started the service”, the woman says seriously.

“Good. I appreciate it”, he nods before kissing his son’s temple. When seeing he’s about to weep, Aegon softens: “Do not cry, my prince. This is not a farewell. I shall go back later, I assure you.”

Reluctantly, he parts, though he does wish to go back when hearing a cry. Aegon pauses at the door but when looking back, Lady H/N has taken little Egg inside the quarters.

“How is mine faire ladies?”, the soon to be king asks you the moment he steps inside.

“Looking better than you”, you giggle quietly. “What happened, love?”

“I had to leave him with those women”, Aegon grumbles.

“I know. I don’t like leaving him there either, but thanks to you I can only feed one child now”, you laugh quietly.

Alysanne, whose hair is as silver as her parents’s, makes noises and Aegon, now more confident in how handling babies, carefully holds her.

“If I remember well, you were climbing on me when I was trying to sleep just the day you were churched”, Aegon chuckles.

“You keep saying that to yourself”, you lean to kiss his cheek. “You have been blessed with a handsomeness that makes me difficult not to merrily engage in marital affairs.”

Again, your bluntness makes him blush, a deed only you could brag in succeed doing so. Aegon gives you a long, meaningful look.

“Watch your tongue, woman. You don’t know what you are saying.”

But his mischievous smirk tells you precisely otherwise. The connection you two share has never grown stronger…

***

• Midnight Sun.

Little Egg is barely three when Aegon takes him for a ride in Sunfyre and you take two year old Alysanne with you as you mount Dreamfyre. It’s late night and since this family is restless, there’s no obligation to stop them in doing so—as if any would do in other period of the day.

“Fly high, Dreamfyre”, you whisper the command in High Valyrian and the dragon doesn’t need much before taking impulse and… weeeee, you and your excited child finally get to the skies.

“Let us do this, S.”, Aegon tells his beautiful golden dragon, resting his face against the creature’s forehead. “Look, this is the son I told you about. He gets my name, and Gods hope that he takes after my best traits. Not that I have many, but…”

Sunfyre buffs as if saying: oh please, you may not be perfect, but you have great qualities! To which Aegon blushes and smiles.

“You are a great friend, Sunfyre.”

“Daddy”, says Little Egg. “Fly!”

“Calm down young man. Are you in a rush?”, Aegon chuckles at his demanding son.

“Mommy… flew.”

“Oh. She’s always in a rush that woman you call your mother. Let’s do it then.”

And soon Aegon’s smile would spread larger if possible as Sunfyre finally spreads his large wings and begins to fly, the reason why Little Egg is happy.

When they are finally getting higher, Aegon makes sure his son is enjoying it. He wants to create this memorable moment that shall reinforce the bond father and son has.

It’s working since little Egg turns his head to his father and says:

“Amazing!”

“Are you enjoying that, my boy?”

“Yes! More, more! Please!”

Aegon laughs happily and does as requested. They fly as high as possible before diving below to meet you and Alysanne. The scene makes the prince emotional. His wife is looking as beautiful as wild as the day he realized he loved you to an unbearable point.

Sensing his gaze, you turn your head to meet him. And feeling your feelings, Dreamfyre is instantly drawn to Sunfyre.

“How’s it going?”, you ask him, eyes sparkling with delight for making it possible an old dream where you and Aegon, together with children of your own, would fly with your respective dragons.

“Just the way you wanted”, so Aegon tells you as if he’s read your mind.

You and him exchanged loving gazes and sweet smiles, letting the dragons taking the reins of the situation.

Indeed, as your children beam, Dreamfyre and Sunfyre dance.

Such is the dance of the dragons.

The toddlers are snoring by the time you and Aegon land.

“They should sleep with us in bed this night”, he suggests you, as he passes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on top of your forehead.

“I agree”, and then you instantly pause before the door of the red keep. “Aegon… I would like to thank you.”

“What for?”, he asks you, intrigued.

“For giving me these lovely children, for being the partner I’ve always known you’d be. For being my other half.” You smile softly. “I’d die for you, I hope you know that. You deserve to be loved, to all that you are given.”

“Y/N…”, he’s surprised to hearing these words of you, even though Aegon never needed proof of how you felt for him.

You stroke his face, wiping away his tears. Both of you know that you only have each other, and yet it’s enough. Specially now you have children of your own.

Resting his forehead against yours, the prince closes his eyes and kisses you.

“Whatever our souls are made of…”

“…mine and yours are the same.”

***

• Epilogue.

Alysanne is fast asleep when she dreams of dragons. Dragons that fight, dragons that die, dragons that survive. In the midst of chaos, she runs after her father.

Where is he? She calls out his name only to find another who is not in his throne. She wakes up thus, unable to remember the usurper’s identity, a mere shadow. But it’s enough to scare the seven year old princess.

She leaves her privy chambers. It’s still dark, but she needs to be sure he’s there somehow. Alysanne runs barefoot to her parents’ chambers. She opens its door, holding her breath but praising the Gods there’s some fire in the fireplace.

She sees you’re sleeping next to your father, but when seeing he’s there…. what a relief. Yet, the princess is scared to go back to her chambers.

“Papa”, she pokes him. “Papa, wake up.”

Aegon groans lightly, but when seeing it’s his oldest daughter calling him, he only rubs his eyes and makes sure to sit properly, careful in not waking you up.

“Lys”, he calls her affectionately and is probably thankful for wearing some proper garments after early copulating with you. “What’s wrong?”

Alysanne quickly throws her arms around his neck.

“I am scared. I don’t want to lose you”, she sniffs.

Aegon rocks her in his arms, smiling quietly for doing so.

“You’re not losing me. Who told you this nonsense? Has Little Egg been teasing you again?”

“No. He’s been good, actually”, she tells him, holding tightly against his neck. “I had a nightmare.”

For some reason, this gives him shivers. But Aegon isn’t inclined to dig into this deeper.

“A nightmare is just a nightmare. Come. Do you want to sleep with mama and papa today?”

Alysanne smiles brightly. She then kisses his cheek just as you are waking up.

“What happened?”, you ask, worried. “Are you well, my dear Alys?”

“She had a nightmare”, Aegon tells you as if this doesn’t mean anything, but one exchange of glances tells you this isn’t anything. Yet neither should feed it. And you agree. “So I’m letting her sleep with us tonight.”

You nod discreetly before kissing your daughter’s forehead.

“Of course. Like the good old days uh?”

And you watch as Alysanne makes herself comfortable in between you and your husband. Aegon strokes her hair as you cover her.

“Do you think…?” Aegon leaves the question in the air.

“Let us leave to concern about it tomorrow. It’s late.”

Aegon agrees. But neither looks forward to go back to sleep. As he casts a fond gaze at the princess, you take his hand and give it a small squeeze.

“It’s going to be all right. Helaena is doing well with it.”

“I know. But…”

“And at the same time she’s not like Helaena”, you tell him. “Let us not confuse things. It’s going to be well.”

“I just worry. I do not wish…”

Aegon looks away, remembering the wounds of his neglect childhood. There’s little need to explain since you can feel what he feels.

“Aegon, my love. We are not like them”, you tell him firmly. As he looks at you, you stroke his hair and place a lock of his messy hair behind his ear. “We are not like our parents. We are better than them. I’d not say so if I believed otherwise. Just look at how Egg seeks to impress you, how Alysanne came after you tonight… or how our twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera often run after you.”

Aegon smiles quietly.

“How can you convince me that easily?”

“It’s the truth I speak. Besides… I have to tell you something”, and here you whisper. “I conceived again.”

“Oh how fertile we are!”, Aegon chuckles merrily.

You both kiss, before settling to lay down, careful now with your daughter fast asleep in between you. Shadows for once are pushed and in late night midnight sun comes to shine bright.

Oh these delights…

#house of the dragon #aegon ii x female reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii fluff #aegon ii x you #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon the second #aegon ii #king aegon #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x oc #aegon ii fic #tom glynn carney

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nicksolemnlyswears · 3 months

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COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

(HAELENA’S TURN)

STAY WITH US

pairing: helaena targaryen x targaryen! reader, aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader

word count: ~3k

warnings: spoilers for s2e2 of HoTD, mentions of murder and death of a child, light cursing, angsty helaena, one single mention of sex. dont @ me if you find a haelena instead of a helaena. targaryen names are much too complicated for my brain

a/n: thank you guys for all the love on aegon's oneshot. i was bouncing on the walls when i saw how much love it received and that some people agree with me in terms of alicent being a shit mom. that being said you dont really have to read the first part to read this. it works as a stand alone although it is a continuation.

although the inspiration to write these oneshots was the death of a child i love how soft and comforting they've come out. it's about sympathizing and giving these characters the love they deserve.

helaena deserves so much love even more than aegon. she's an innocent in all of this trapped in the midst of war. hell even rhaenyra agrees and scolded daemon for his misdoings.

im thinking of writing one last part where it is all three of them together: reader, aegon and helaena. i'm leaning towards smut but i never know what my brain will come up with. if you’d rather have some more domestic fluffy stuff let me know and that can be arranged!

enjoy!

Your fingers close around your skirts as you fly up the stairs to Helaena's bed chambers. One of her maids leads the way. The young girl sought you out as you readied for bed, rambling about how Queen Helaena was in distress. Without further question, you slipped on your robe and followed her.

The Queen has not been well since the night her child was brutally taken from her. She continues to live day by day in constant suffering as her mind has a difficult time coming to terms with that night's events.

As it happens, saying Helaena is 'not well' is an understatement.

She might've been 'not well' after the fact, but the funeral proceedings broke the last thread of sense she was holding onto. If anyone is to blame, it is the Dowager Queen who forced her to attend and Otto Hightower who was the 'mastermind' behind it all.

It was torture to hear the people of Kings Landing shouting for her, screaming vile words about Rhaenyra, and offering condolences about a subject they barely knew a thing about.

Most had never seen the young Prince; his cold body and the gold thread around his neck were their first glimpses of him. They gasped and awed at her child as if he were a spectacle while she had no choice but to sit and watch with composure.

It is only natural she would fall apart under the pressure of such ill-conceived plans. Her overthinking mind couldn't handle it any longer when the carriage got stuck. Her thoughts coming up with the most of wicked scenarios. She had to run.

Then, there is Jaehaera, who continues to ask for her twin brother. The poor girl has never spent a day apart from him since they were conceived. It is difficult for Helaena to hear Jaehaera constantly ask where he is and when he will return. It's a never ending reminder of her loss.

Besides, how is she to explain death to a child when Helaena herself has not accepted it.

The newly assigned guard sworn to protect the Queen opens the door for you as soon as you round the corner. His anticipation worries you to no end, and you fear what lies past those doors.

Maids surround Helaena, attempting to comfort her. She screams at them to let her be, but they persist. The maids mean well. Helaena is clearly distressed, yet they don't seem to realize it's because of their overbearing presence.

The young Queen swats them away. Her fingers thread through her messy hair as she seeks an escape, and sobs rake through her slender body until she collapses on her knees. Her lips move in unreadable murmurs in between each yell.

Helaena barely appears like herself. Dark purple circles line her under eyes, and her hair is unbrushed and knotted. Her signature plump cheeks have hollowed out, indicating that she has lost weight.

"Please," Helaena cries to no one in particular, recoiling from their touch.

You barrel through the maids and kneel on the floor at an arms length from Helaena. "'Laena?" you softly call to get her to look at you, knowing that if you even attempt to touch her, she will shy away.

At the recognition of your voice, Helaena's face whips up. She falls into your arms, hiding from the other females in the room. The tears that stain her face wet your robe as you hold her close. She tucks her face into your neck, hiccuping from emotion.

"Leave us," you command with a stern gaze that borders on anger.

The maids move to leave the room, but only after notifying you that the Queen has barely eaten or bathed in days. Once the door closes shut, you coax Helaena from your arms.

"What is wrong, 'Laena?" You ask softly, cradling her face to brush away her tears. The sight of her red and blotchy face breaks your heart. She must've been like this for a long time.

"It is my fault," she hiccups as new tears follow the path of the others. Helaena hangs her head in despair. She should've fought harder to keep her son alive. There must've been something else she could've done.

"Look at me," you say sternly, forcing her to look at you. It is when her eyes meet yours that you continue, "This is not your fault."

"I was the one to point my finger," she argues while her fists clench and unclench around the fabric of her dress when a new wave of emotion takes over.

Helaena is an overly emotional person. She feels things deep in her chest. She wishes she could control it, but the more she holds it in, the nastier it gets when it gets out of her control. Her body freezes and pleads for her to run and hide.

"Helaena, this was going to happen whether you pointed your finger or not. If you hadn't done what you did, you and Jaehaera would be dead as well."

It's blunt and a bit cruel, but Helaena must understand that she had no other choice. The only way this could've been stopped was if she had been assigned a sworn protector, but the council underestimated their enemy and Ser Criston Cole was too busy getting his cock wet to do anything about it.

"I told them to spare him and kill me instead," Helaena confesses with a weep.

She lets herself go on your shoulder as you wrap your arms around her shaking shoulders. You kiss the top of her head to console her guilty conscience. Helaena did not deserve to be a victim of Daemon's terrible idea. She might just be the most innocent of Targaryens.

"I know, Helaena, you were so brave. You're a wonderful mother. This is not your fault, and nobody blames you. You did what you had to do. Jaehaera is alive and well because of you."

It's hard for Helaena to stop thinking in such a way once she starts. The thoughts cause her to imagine things that aren't really there and doubt her reality. She feels like the staff's glances are not of worry but of resentment for letting those men kill her boy. Aegon's absence makes it all the worse.

"Aegon will not look at me, much less speak to me," she whimpers, wrapping her arms around your waist.

A tear slides down your cheek. You will never compare your sadness to theirs, but seeing them hurt in such a way pains you. Their marriage was arranged, yes, but Aegon and Helaena hold deep affection for each other. They simply have a difficult time showing it.

In this instance, there is no one who understands them better than each other. It is tragic but this should bring them closer together not tear them apart.

"Aegon is grieving. He can barely stand to look at himself because he feels like he failed his family, 'Laena. I promise you he will come around."

Helaena nods with her head on your shoulder. She is not convinced, but your words soothe her for the time being. Tears continuously slide down her face, and there is nothing you can do about it. You much prefer she cries it all out than hold it in.

"Come," you tell her, holding her hand and guiding her to the bath the maids had prepared before they left. "Let's get you ready for bed.”

You keep her close to you, reassuring Helaena you're there to stay as long as she needs. You help her untie the strings of her dress, and as you hang it over the back of a chair, she slips out of her smallclothes.

She accepts your hand to step into the bath. The water has now cooled, but she doesn't complain. It is the least of her worries. Helaena sits in the tub with her arms around her knees and silently cries.

Your goal tonight is to get her to rest. You can tell she hasn't slept in a long time, which will make her feel better.

Settling on the wooden stool next to the bath, you lather soap into the sponge and ask for her arm. Helaena complies, and you gently swipe the sponge across her skin. The maids were thorough as the smell of a calming oils invades your senses. They sincerely wanted to help their Queen.

Scrubbing down her arm, you note her nailbeds, which are red and raw. You're gentle with the soap when you reach her hand to prevent it from burning. Once you rinse it out, you bring her hand up to your lips, kissing her fingertips much like your mother would do when you got hurt.

Her crying calms when she catches onto your gesture, watching you in awe.

It is easy to note how she's thinned out as you continue to bathe her. Her skin presses against her ribs, showcasing each indent, and the bony prominences of her shoulders are much more palpable. It worries you to no end. Everyone has different coping mechanisms, but this is by far the unhealthiest one.

In the morrow, you will make it your goal to get her to eat. For a start, you will ask the kitchens to bake her favorite dessert. There has never been a moment where Helaena has refused a berry tart.

"Tilt your head back for me, love," you whisper, grabbing the pitcher of clean water from the table. Brushing Helaena's hair back, you pour the water, being careful not to get it in her eyes.

As she tilts her head back, she keeps her watchful eyes on you. She is in one of the most intimate positions, yet her lilac eyes reveal the most vulnerable parts of herself. You offer Helaena a comforting smile. Moving on from this tragic accident will be difficult, but we have to start somewhere.

When you lather her hair with soap and massage her scalp, she closes her eyes with a shudder. In turn, her shoulders relax, and goosebumps appear across her skin. A quiet moan slipping past her bitten lips.

Moving on to her face, Helaena watches you closely as you grab a rag to wash her face. You're so careful and tender with her. She has not made mention of it, but your touch feels pleasant against her skin.

You dab her neck next, looking over the wound that was cast upon her. You wish for it not to scar. Helaena needs no more reminders of that night.

After finishing the bath, you help her stand and dry off. Then, you follow her to the bed, where her nightgown lies discarded. With your assistance, she quickly slips it on. Helaena is quiet as she dresses; no more tears well up in her eyes.

"Let's brush your hair," you whisper soothingly.

Delicately, you glide the brush through her silver strands. You tackle the knots methodically to prevent pulling on her hair. A couple of drops of rose oil help greatly with the task as the bristles move smoothly across the long length of her hair.

Helaena sighs softly, and, through the mirror, you can see her eyes are closed. The poor thing must be exhausted.

"How are you feeling?" You ask her, tying the plait you weaved and wrapping your arms around her shoulders. You prop your head upon hers, cuddling her into you.

"Better, I suppose," she nods gratefully, grasping your hand hanging loosely across her chest. "I am tired," she admits.

"Let's get you to bed then."

Before you can slip away, Helaena protests and holds your wrist. "No, please." You're taken aback by the desperation in her voice. Why is she refusing to rest when her body begs for it?

"Helaena, when was the last time you slept?"

Helaena appears guilty. She swallows the knot on her throat, preparing to answer. "Not since that night. The nightmares do not allow me respite."

You sit beside her on the bench, keeping a firm grasp on her hand. "Do you wish to speak about them? It might help."

Her voice is barely above a whisper. "It's always the same. They return when the nights darkest and take Jaehaera."

Helaena is terrified. Many of her dreams have become reality, and this is one she would not be able to bear witness to. The things they do in her dreams are unforgivable. She cannot lose her daughter to those monsters.

Silence takes upon the room. Helaena cannot survive in a sleep deprived state, there must be something you can do. "What if we bring her here? She can sleep with you. That way, you will know she's safe."

Helaena ponders your suggestion, her eyes drifting away. "Will you stay?" Although a question the way Helaena's voice cracks, it's more of a plead.

"Is that what you wish, my Queen?" You ask, caressing her cheek so she returns to you from that faraway place in her mind.

She's quick to nod and squeeze your hand in gratitude. "Please," she whispers, leaning into your touch.

"Anything for you."

Helaena accompanies you to Jaehaera's new chambers. The King saw it fit Jaehaera did not reside in the room where her twin brother was murdered. A wise choice.

If your memory serves you well, Jace used to inhabit the space once upon a time.

Helaena almost runs to her daughter's cot, ensuring she's alive and well. You sympathize with her, it's natural to worry about your child if another was stolen from your life.

"Mama," Jaehaera yawns when Helaena picks her up.

"You're sleeping with mummy tonight, yeah?" Helaena whispers, cradling the back of her head and kissing the crown of her head.

Jaehaera, too tired to reason or even question it, nods and nestles into the crook of Haelena's neck. The sight is eerily similar to that fateful night.

The guard posted to protect Jaehaera escorts you to the Queen's chambers, standing on the opposite side of Helaena's white cloak guard.

Once inside, you slip off your robe and join her and Jaehaera on the bed. The girl is safely nestled between you both, pale lashes fluttering shut.

Helaena reaches for your hand to ensure you do not leave, and you lace your fingers with hers. "Sleep, 'Laena. I'll keep you safe," you promise her.

All it takes for Helaena to sleep is a lullaby your mother used to sing to you. It was of great tales of the people of Old Valyria. It was your favorite growing up, and now it is Helaena's.

By the song's end, Helaena's breaths even out and she succumbs to slumber. Although her face reflects her tiredness, the resemblance between Helaena and Jaehaera is stark.

When your eyes begin to close, eager to follow Helaena and Jaehaera to the land of dreams, the door creaks open. Startled, you sit up on the bed to search for an intruder, ready to scream if need be.

Aegon stands by the door, his chest heaving and his face pale. His hair is in disarray, and his eyes are wild with worry. "Where is Jaehaera?" he asks.

"She's right here," you respond, lowering the sheets and moving your body to reveal her resting upon Helaena's chest.

Aegon sighs in relief, and after a moment of hesitation, he timidly steps closer to the bed, observing the scene in front of him. He has taken to visiting his daughter's chambers throughout the night. He doesn't trust the guards, even if he is the one who assigned them. Aegon needs to see with his own eyes that his remaining child is alive and not endangered.

He had been frightened when the guard who was supposed to be posted by her door was gone, and worse, so was his daughter. Before he could scream, a maid walked in and, upon questioning, told him Jaehaera was in the Queen's chambers with her mother and the Princess.

You lay back against the headboard and observe him. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over you to brush a strand of hair away from his wife's face. Then, his hand lowers as his fingertip traces the slope of his daughter's nose.

"You should talk to her."

Helaena's words are clear as day in your mind. After witnessing Aegon in the same position, you reckon it would be good if they spoke to one another.

"I wouldn't know what to say," Aegon responds with a shake of his head.

"Yes, you do," you insist, resting your hand upon his, which lays on the bed. He glances questioningly at you, silently asking you to explain.

Your voice is light and soft. The last thing you want is to wake Helaena, although your instincts tell you it is doubtful. "Nobody understands what you're going through better than Helaena. She lost a child as well and feels just as hopeless as you do. Talk to her and tell her the words you would've liked to hear."

"It is that easy?" He asks in disbelief with a scoff. He looks at you for guidance. You've helped him more than anyone in the council or his own mother.

"Yes," you chuckle, and he joins you, if only for a moment. "Would you like me to go so you can stay?" You wouldn't want to intrude in a moment that can unite a family yet again.

Aegon shakes his head and urges you to stay abed. "It is alright. I will soon talk with 'Laena."

For a brief moment, Aegon presses his forehead against yours to show his appreciation. He stands with a press of his lips to your forehead and one more glance at his family. "Thank you for everything. I hope one day I can repay you for all your kindness."

"There's no need."

He does not speak but shares a glance that says a thousand words. Aegon closes the door behind him and turns to the guards standing by it.

Their backs visibly straighten when he addresses them. "Under no circumstance are you to leave your post. Your goal is to protect the Queen and the Princesses."

After all, his heart and soul are in that room.

STAY WITH US

came out a little longer than aegon but there was much to do with lovely helaena. queen helaena is a big reason as to why i hate alicent so much. alicent has let her down time and time again. how can she fucking ask helaena not to say anything about her and cole? fuck, alicent, she's not even thinking about that.

did you enjoy this one shot? please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept keyboard smashes, emojis, words of encouragement, praise, virtual hugs and alicent and cole slander) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

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holybibly · 4 months

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𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢 | Seonghwa x reader

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Vampire Prince Seonghwa x Mortal maid reader 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You've heard the story since you were a little girl—a beautiful vampire prince living in an ancient Gothic castle covered in thorny roses, waiting for his true love. But you could never have imagined that you were destined to be part of this gloomy story. 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢 : Smut, Dark Romance, Mystery, Doomed lovers!AU, Vampire!AU, Gothic!AU, Soulmate!AU ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15k

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Vampire sex, master/servant, unprotected sex, corruption kink, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, hematolagnia, body worship, bite kink, orgasm delay/denial, wax game, blood kink, blood drinking, multiple orgasms, squirting, face fucking and more.

𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet

𝔄|𝔑: And now I've finally completed it and I couldn't be happier. I guess I'm a little too in love with Seonghwa. But can I resist the temptation to give him all my attention? And the bunnies seem a little obsessed with him too, don't they? This is a gothic fairy tale, full of depravity, filth and lust. Are you ready for a prince's cold kiss?

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the sinister Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where ancient legend says a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits all alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly forming endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities, as if a random card falling on a regal blood-red velvet tablecloth would transport him from this cold, shuttered room to a land of eternal summer and human warmth. As if it would help him to wipe away the age-old sorrow from his unbeating heart, to allow him to feel, at last, the love for which he so desperately longs—the love for someone like him, a creature who embodies life and death at the same time.

His voice is full of distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo under the earth: "You've come to a place from which you can't return; you've come to a place from which you can't return." And he himself is like a dark, cold dungeon, filled with the reverberation of a lonely echo, a system of repetition, a vicious circle.

He is so divinely beautiful that his beauty seems unnatural; his beauty is an abnormality, a perfect flaw, for in no hypnotic feature of his face is there a hint of the touching imperfection so natural to human existence. His beauty is a sign of fatal disease, a sign of blood full of poison; his black tears are a sign of his lack of soul.

A night-born beauty who embodies both the sin and the blessing in his existence. The Prince of immortality, lord of grief, master of endless tears.

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizen of darkness skillfully guide the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened to a point as sharp as a dagger of steel. These nails and teeth—magnificent, glistening dangerously in the darkness like white snow under the moonlight—are visible signs of his inescapable destiny, which he desperately tries to escape by using magic and otherworldly powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies. He is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when humans worshipped blind Gods and believed in the powers of nature.

As soon as the sun, bleeding with golden ichor, has set, he rises from his voluptuousness bed, which rather more closely resembles a velvety coffin than a lovelorn bed, and goes to the little round table, and, sitting at this table, he plays his leisurely, mirthless game with fate, until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, bestial, scorching his whole being—hunger.

His lips were intoxicating wine—the scarlet madness of pure seduction. His kiss was as tender as a mother's caress, as suffocating as unspoken words, and as shattering as the agony of dying love, but it was only when his alluringly sensual smile faded in the lips of his victims that they would realise that it was not wine—it was blood—and it tasted as bitter as poisonous wild strawberries and ashes. He slowly savoured each cooling drop of blood until the eyes of his lovers became pale and sombre, like lily flowers submerged in water. The glow of the moonlight that pours in through the boarded-up windows of his castle, on their waxy skin, was their burial garb.

The Prince's realm stretches for miles and miles, encompassing all the haunted labyrinths of misty forests and mysterious abandoned dwellings, inhabited by ghosts and all manner of midnight creatures. In addition to his poisonous beauty, he has inherited the command of an army of fleshless shadows who inhabit the village at the foot of his sinister castle, which rests in a dead garden of mourning roses like a lover in her eternal sleep, waiting for the beautiful prince to one day kiss her icy lips. These macabre shadows sneak into the woods in the guise of bats and black foxes. They crawl into the corners of the ornate rooms of an abandoned house as thick, menacing spiders that entangle everything around them in the silken canopies of their webs. Their presence is manifested in the sound of sobbing in an abandoned bedroom where a cracked mirror hangs on the wall, reflecting nothing, and in the sense of unease that grips those who wander carelessly into these desolate lands. They torment all the beautiful young maidens, pure as angels from paintings, with fits of inexplicable weakness and madness, forcing them to wander about at night like somnambulists—barefoot and naked—until their frail bodies lie in the bloody sheets of their splendid lord.

But the Midnight Prince himself is indifferent to his otherworldly, immense power; instead, he longs to be an ordinary man and to meet his love—predestined and fateful—but he doesn't know if it can happen at all. The Tarot cards are always laid out for him in exactly the same way, always showing him the same painfully familiar pattern: the Magician, Death, the Tower - shattered by violet lightning—mystery, fatality, and destruction.

In addition to the hundreds of whispering, sexless shadows that waltz through the dusky, gloomy corridors of the hereditary castle, the handsome prince has other living servants. Bleakness somnambulistic the servants in a dumb daze tend the decomposing castle, ensuring that no sunlight enters the dreary, formerly majestic halls and that their immortal master always has fresh, hot blood to satisfy his insatiable, animalistic hunger. They are eager to fulfil his every whim and desire, as vampire minions are supposed to do, and when one of these pale servants dies, turning into an immovable, translucent dried flower, another one takes his place, and the cycle begins all over again.

They live as long as the prince wants, until he tires of their emotionless, silent presence. He mercifully shares his immortality with them, which moulds with poisonous black blood at the bottom of their exquisite porcelain tea cups. Everything about this otherworldly Prince of the Night justifies his tragic role—lord of sorrow and terror—except the fact that he himself is very reluctant to play this unpleasant role.

On long, moonless nights, his caring, taciturn caretaker allows him to take a stroll through the garden. This rose garden is a place of extreme darkness and melancholy, lulled into the depths of a thorny maze and a beautiful, centuries-old cemetery where the remains of his cursed family lie beneath nameless marble slabs and faceless angels in empty coffins.

The roses, once bright and alive, have now grown into a great wall of dead flowers. Behind them, he is trapped in his ancestral castle, like an intricate cage. There is no comfort for him in his ghostly existence, which is a clumsy imitation of real life. And then he returns to the lulling magic of the tarot, slowly shuffling the cards, spreading them out, trying to read them, and then, with a sigh, picking them up and shuffling them again, endlessly guessing at the inevitable fate.

Dressed in his blood-stained lace gown, he lies in his luxurious bed all day, drowning in countless pillows. When the tired, bloody sun disappears behind the vague line of the horizon, taking with it the weight of human life, he rises from his bed to take a bath filled to the brim with rose petals and virgin's blood, which stands in the middle of a room full of mirrors, and then he sits down at his little round table and plays cards until his hunger awakens again.

It always was, and always will be, until, on one of an endless series of overcast, recurring days, the graceful, waxen fingers of a vampiric prince—as he descended from a sacred icon—turn over a card called 'Lovers'. Never, never before... never before has the prince been a forerunner of love. He shudders and trembles, his huge, hypnotic eyes close with nervously fluttering eyelids pierced by thin, bluish veins. This time, for the first time, the beautiful fortune-teller foretold yourself love—eternal as life and death at the same time.

The prince's luxurious chambers were in a high tower covered with prickly roses, and it was a part of the castle that had not yet been completely destroyed by time and sorrow, retaining some semblance of frightening grandeur. You have never been in this wing until this night, and if it were up to you, you would never want to be here again. This castle is a place of gore and death, a place from which no one has ever come back alive, but that was the last thing on your mind as you ran away into the impenetrable forest in the middle of a moonless night, fleeing further and further into the whispering darkness—to a place where your family would never find you, even if you had to pay for it with your life.

And so here you are. Waltzing through the endless labyrinths of the crumbling family castle of the beautiful lord of darkness and suffering—the midnight vampire prince Seonghwa—serving him and tending to the gloomy halls of his once glorious family legacy.

Ashes to ashes. Blood to blood.

Your pale, trembling hand floated in the air, hesitant to knock on the heavy, solid black oak door that separated the prince's velvet chambers from the rest of the castle. You had been standing there for some time, surrounded by whispering shadows and silken darkness. Their hissing, serpentine voices, coming to your ears from those dusty, darkness corners, where the dim glow of the candles did not reach:"He knows...he hears...he feels you...feels you..."

Even though it was always bone-chillingly freezing cold in the castle, your nervousness caused a clammy, obnoxious sweat to form on your skin, rolling in thick, glistening drops down your neck to the hollow of your plunging neckline, leaving a cooling, transparent trail resembling a ghostly kiss. You swallowed hard, saliva suddenly pooling in your mouth, and drew in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, trying in vain to calm the frantic pounding of your heart against your ribs. It shouldn't be a big deal. After all, if the Prince had wanted you dead, your exsanguinated body would have been buried deep underground in his beautiful garden by now, which looked more like an exquisite burial ground than anything else.

It was utterly foolish of you to try and delay the inevitable. Seonghwa was waiting for you; he longed to see you. The prince had personally requested your presence in his chambers this evening, and he was probably well aware of how long you had been standing at the door of his bedchamber.

The prince’s velvety, almost purring voice echoed inside the room as your knuckles barely touched the dark wood of the door: "You can come in, my darling."

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that hypnotic, enchanting voice. Even though it was muffled by the thickness of the stone walls, you could still clearly feel its otherworldly, terrifying power lurking behind every letter he uttered. The prince's voice was like an angel's plaintive song—beautiful and terrifying at once.

You swallowed hard again and opened the massive oak door, framed in a rich wrought-iron floral design, leaning most of your weight on the hard wood. The thorns of the bronze roses, worn by time, were as sharp as the deadly fangs of a vampire prince. Your entire body shuddered as you stood frozen at the entrance to his private chambers, afraid to step over the threshold. Something ominous and terrifying hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine.

Reflections of blackened family gold caught your eye, emanating from every corner of the room as the flickering candlelight refracted and shattered against the sumptuous antique jewellery. Even more shadows grew and lurked in the corners of the bedroom, hissing and writhing where your gaze couldn't reach them. Every detail in this room spoke of its former glorious majesty.

In awkward cascades of dusty, faded fabric, heavy velvet curtains that had long since lost their rich burgundy colour hung down the walls of the room. Now the home of delicate glass spiders and dead nocturnal butterflies, they were no longer exquisite pieces of decoration. Hanging on the walls, in massive antique gold frames, were the grim, time-worn portraits of the previous owners of this eerie sanctuary of shadow and sorrow, whose veins ran with the same black blood as Seonghwa's. They were a reminder of the vampire prince's cursed legacy. As the bone-chilling wind swept through the room, you could hear the crystal pendants of the chandelier clink. It brought to your ears the whispers of the shadows in languages you had never heard before.

It seemed to you that the air in Seonghwa's private chambers was even colder than the rest of the castle, filled with a sweet, suffocating scent that made you dizzy. Yet some unknown force drew you deeper into the silken darkness of the bedroom, where the beautiful, sinister creature lived her mirthless existence.

"My darling, you've made me wait too long for you. Come here." The command in his languid, seductive voice shot through your body like a whip, leaving your skin burning. Your whole body clenched with fear, paralysed by cold and nervousness, as you hesitantly moved towards the large archway that led into the open, mirrored space of the bathroom.

The faint splash of water was almost drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing through your veins and your heart pounding against your ribs at an almost painful rate. As you paused at the edge of the podium that held a large marble bathtub filled to the brim with rose petals, the knot of anxiety that was slowly forming in your stomach only tightened. The hot steam rising from the water clung to your skin like a lover's caress, filling the air with the intoxicating scent of the flowers, mixed with something unspeakably sweet, something erotic, something animal—a scent that could only belong to Seonghwa himself.

"What can I do for you today, my prince?" You take a deep breath of the freezing air to calm your nerves a little. The faint metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

"First of all, lift your head, my love, so I can have a good look at you." His velvety, seductive voice rolled down the length of your slightly arched spine, spreading a hot, scarlet flush across your flesh as he spoke. You could already feel how the tops of your thighs were starting to get wet with excitement. You were ashamed to admit how your body reacted to him, even though you knew it was part of his vampire personality that allowed him to mesmerise his prey before delivering his deadly, icy kiss.

Every single cell in your body urges you to run as far away as possible, instinctively reacting to the presence of something so evil and dangerous around you. But you ignored your fear and slowly lifted your head to meet the dark, hypnotic gaze of Seonghwa, who leaned back on the edge of the marble bathtub with regal casualness. A grim shiver ran through your entire body at the gaze of those large, gleaming eyes—slanting and predatory like a wild cat's. Your skin tingled at the feeling of the prince's eyes sliding slowly over your body, lingering too long on the heaving ridges of your plump breasts above the deep neckline of the tight corsage. He was staring at you like a rose, tearing you apart in an effort to get to the very core of you, deliberately slow, petal by petal.

There is a long silence between the two of you, filled only with the loud beating of your heart and the subtle splashing of the water as the prince's long fingers lazily caress the rose petals floating on the surface of the tub. The intense eye contact was unsettling, as if you were looking at a scene that you weren't meant to see, and perhaps that was exactly what it was.

It was hard to ignore how beautiful the vampire was and how dangerous he was. The lack of any natural flaws was so glaring that it almost made your head spin from the otherworldly perfection of it all. The greatest artists, in their quest for perfect beauty, would not have been able to describe a divine portrait of his face to this earth without even a hint of the incredible reality of his appearances. The verses of the poets could not describe his eyes; the light in them decided the fate of mankind; they had life and death, sinfulness, passion, and sparkling moisture, something that you could never have in human eyes. You didn't know if Seonghwa was the light of heaven or the flames of hell, but you were sure that he was from the first or second world. Seonghwa was either an angel that had fallen from the open heavens or a demon that had risen from hell, or perhaps both at the same time.

His long arms stretched out on either side of his lithe, slender body, bulging with silky muscles under smooth, moist skin that shimmered like pure gold in the light of burning candle flames, and you swallowed hard at this view. You felt like you'd been lured straight into the lion's den, and he was going to eat you alive. And maybe, just maybe, that was what you wanted so badly. Every night of your stay in this castle, you have had the same dream—the one where Seonghwa feeds on you while he fucks you in front of the huge antique mirror in his dark velvet chambers. Those dreams - so intense and sensual that when you awoke, you could still feel the prince's phantom cold breath on your skin, the lingering touch of his hands on your body, the aching feel of his big cock between your thighs, and the warmth of your blood running down your naked breasts in dark scarlet streams from the small puncture wounds that Songhwa's needle-sharp fangs had left on your neke. And the longer it went on, the stronger this terrible, dark need became to feel the prince's painful, deadly kiss in reality.

Right now, there was a small part of you that was desperately hoping that Seonhwa's call to you tonight was for that very reason—to feed on you.

As if reading your thoughts, a sinful, predatory grin formed on Seonghwa's luscious, sensuous lips, and the look in his seductive, half-closed eyes shot through you, making your blood boil with desire.

Your excitement was so obvious to him, but in spite of this humiliating fact, the thrilling sensation that was fluttering in your lower abdomen and sending shivers of heat between your luscious thighs only intensified. The blood pulsed in your veins so furiously that you could feel its pulse on your neck, and of course Seonghwa felt that seductive throbbing of your life as well.

"What is your name?" His voice was like a snowy day after a frozen night, smooth as crystal and sparkling like diamonds, when the prince spoke to you again.

" Y/N." You say it quietly, looking away from the vampire with a little shyness.

" Y/N." When he speaks your name, you get the feeling that it's always belonged to him. Not to you, but to him, it is. His tongue caresses each letter, wrapping around it as if kissing it and licking each syllable as if his sensual mouth were touching the most tender spot between your legs. He fills your name with his own meaning—impossible, forbidden, sinful—a meaning known only to him.

The soft splashing of the water was the only warning you were given before Seonghwa stood right in front of you in all of his naked glory. Up close, his appearance was even more inhumanly beautiful, devoid of any of the imperfections of nature. He shone like a celestial being bathed in holy light, water droplets dripping down his perfectly smooth golden skin, and part of you longed to lick it. Blood-red petals clung to the chiselled muscles of his chest and stomach in the most seductive way, igniting a roaring heat inside you and fastening a throb in your heart. His long, midnight-black locks seemed to float softly and beautifully on his head, and his skin shimmered with shards of light. No living being could ever be a match for him—beauty, regality, immortality—it was all woven into every bit of his cursed, dark nature. The prince slowly licked his plump, soft lips, and for a moment, one could see the sharp tips of his fangs.

You had no idea where to look, especially since Seonghwa didn't hide his nakedness but showed it openly. Your gaze slid down the expanse of his bare chest, his sharp collarbones, and his long neck, but you didn't raise your eyes to his godlike face, instead focusing your attention on the silky scarlet rose petals that adorned his skin.

All of the stories that you had heard from the people of your village were absolutely true. Not a single living soul had been able to leave that gloomy, grief-filled Gothic castle, and you couldn't imagine anyone willingly refusing Seonghwa's cold kiss, even if it was the last thing they would ever experience in their lives. Your attraction to him was magnetic, as natural as gravity, as natural as breathing, and so achingly tangible that you could feel it in every part of your body.

There was complete silence in the room for a moment before his hand came up to your face, and the cold, wet touch of his fingers against your cheek sent a shiver down your spine. You tried not to breathe as he gently ran the tips of his fingers down the length of your cheek. At Seonghwa's silent command, you obediently lifted your head to look straight into those hypnotic, feline eyes, framed by the velvety lace of wet lashes. Your face burned, but at the same time, his mesmerising, bottomless gaze made you want to press your lips to the back of his palm and kiss the silky tips of his long fingers. The embarrassing thought made your mouth dry and your heart beat twice as fast in your chest.

"Aren't you beautiful, my love?" Seonghwa purred in a low, seductive tone. His luscious lips curled into a devilish smile that screamed danger and didn't bode well for you. But that sensual, soft curve of his mouth filled you with a semblance of imaginary safety, as if you were in no danger at all around him. In this scene, you're just a little mouse, and he's a snake, a coiled ring snake, ready to lethal strike.

"I…my prince, you shouldn't say that…" It was hard for you to get any words out of your mouth. You felt as if you were transparent, as if there was no longer any barrier between the air and your body.

"But it is, isn't it? You are so warm, so full of life. It's just too tempting for me to resist." He runs his long, slender fingers along your lips, pressing lightly until his sharp claws dig into the soft, pliant flesh, causing small drops of blood to rise. "I could kiss you right here." He bends down so that he's level with your face and his long tongue sticking out just to lick the blood drops from your lips. As soon as he has tasted you, Seonghwa lets out a deep, fulfilled groan and looks up at you with heavy, bottomless eyes full of animal hunger. "Or here..." Now his godlike face bends down to your neck, and his perfectly sculpted lips touch the spot where he can feel your pulse beating beneath thin skin.

A muffled half-moan escapes from your chest as his sharp incisors scrape lightly against you before Seonghwa begins to suck persistently at this sensitive area. His actions are making you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease the warm throbbing of your pussy. The way your body reacts to his touch almost embarrasses you, but even if it weren't for his deeply sexual vampire nature that made everyone lose their mind with lust, you're not sure you'd react any differently. Vampire or not, there was no denying the temptation you felt for Seonghwa.

"Or even here..." With light kisses, he moved down the length of your neck to the heaving ridges of your breasts above the deep neckline of your corsage. His tongue licked slowly over your skin, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in its wake. This sent a rush of pleasure through your veins and the excited heat flooded your face with a scarlet flush. "You thought about that when you came here this evening, didn't you? Did you imagine how I would drink from you, how I would fuck you?" He asks you in a voice that sounds like that of a dark angel. God, what he's doing to you makes you feel so needy and devastated. You're sure that if he asked you to get on your knees before him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. "You know, I can feel how wet you are for me, my love."

And what would you have been supposed to say to that? He was absolutely right about all of it, and you were so ashamed of this magnetic, otherworldly attraction that you felt for the prince.

"I... I don't know, my prince. I'm so sorry..." You whispered, your voice quivering with both embarrassment and excitement. Seonghwa's magnificent eyes sank into yours, and for a moment you thought you saw stars shining in them before he drew a long fingernail, a line down the column of your throat, past your collarbones, down to the centre of your chest. The vampire tilted his head thoughtfully, and you watched as a mischievous grin appeared on his plump, sensual lips.

"You're sorry, how sweet." He immerses himself fully in the water once more and then returns to his original position on the far side of the tub. "Take your clothes off. I want you to join me."

The sudden shock of his words running through your body paralyses you for a moment, robbing you of any ability to respond to him at all. The silence between you lingers, and you swallow loudly when his eyes narrow and the mischievous expression disappears from his face, and you open your mouth to try to squeeze out words from yourself.

"I'm not sure I can do that, my prince. Servants aren't supposed to..." Seonghwa didn't let you finish; he cut off your words with an elegant wave of his hand.

"A servant is not allowed to disobey his master, and that is all you need to know. Now get undressed and come here; otherwise, I'll do it myself, and sweetheart, I can't guarantee that I'll be gentle with you."

It was useless to argue with him any further, and instead you began to obediently unbutton your corsage, but every move seemed to be an extra effort, especially as Seonghwa's hypnotic, velvety gaze never left you for a second. Your hands trembled as you pulled your clothes off your warm skin, but you couldn't tell if it was from shame that Seonghwa would see you completely undressed or from the thrill of facing the most seductive predator that had ever existed. Or maybe it was from lust as dark and raw as the look in the prince's hypnotic feline eyes.

The cool air hit your naked body as your clothes and underwear fell in an unnecessary heap at your feet, leaving you nude before him.

"Don't make me repeat myself, my darling." Obeying his wish, you cautiously stepped over the edge of the luxurious bathtub and slowly lowered yourself into the warm water, which was full of blood-red rose petals. You pressed yourself against the cold marble behind you, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. Maybe it was the contrast in temperature, or maybe it was Seonghwa's intense gaze that gave your skin goosebumps.

The vampire sprawled out on the edge of the bathtub again, like a large wild cat. His body was curled up in the most seductive way, so that you could see every single muscle underneath his smooth, golden skin. Like everything about Seonghwa, his body was absolutely perfect—he was lean but strong, muscular but lean; every inch of his body was brought to painful perfection by something divine, something that you would never be able to understand because of your ordinariness, your humanity.

"Come closer to me, my love."

The rose petals swirled around you as you slowly approached him, your heart pounding in your chest at the impossibility of what was about to happen. Perhaps this was all just a dream, like hundreds of others like it—full of lewd images and lingering touches—and you could wake up any minute, cold and alone in your small bed, with a throbbing need between your legs like every other night you'd spent in this gothic castle. You still kept a small distance between you, hesitating to move any closer to him, and it was obvious that he didn't like it as he reached his clawed hand forward to grab hold of your elbow.

"I said come closer..." Seonghwa growled in a low voice and pulled you towards him so that your back was pressed against his bare chest. His skin was as cold and smooth as marble, and you shuddered as the tips of his sharp nails ran along the length of your shoulder.

On the opposite side of the bathtub was a huge mirror, framed in a massive gold frame and lit by a hundred or so melted candles. In the slightly hazy reflection, you could see the beautiful face of Seonghwa as he leaned over to you until his soft lips touched your ear. Your breath caught as the sharp edges of his teeth burned the delicate skin of your earlobe and his fingers slid across your collarbone.

A soft moan slips from your pink, plush lips as you unconsciously arch up in Seonghwa's arms, pushing your large, plump breasts forward and pressing your ass against his massive, hard cock under the water. His beautiful hands cradle your boobs, squeezing them hard in the palms of his hands, and you almost gasp for breath as the prince presses his sensual mouth to your throat.

"Look at me, my love. Don't you dare to close your eyes for even a second." You whimper at the sensation of his sharp teeth clawing at your skin, and a sharp, delicious shiver of pleasure runs between your legs. "Otherwise..." He kisses a sensitive spot on the side of your neck, just below your ear. A kiss that makes your pussy all wet and sticky. "I'm going to bite you, but it feels to me like it's exactly what you want so badly. I'm right, aren't I, sweetheart?" In the reflection of the mirror, you could see the way that his hands were slowly massaging your breasts. The light touch of his thumbs on your hard, sensitive nipples made you squirm and writhe. "You're so perfect." Seonghwa purred. "So warm and fragile, and you moan for me like a whore, even though you know that I hold your fleeting human life in the palm of my hand. I could kill you now, but considering how wet your pretty pussy is, that thought only turns you on, doesn't it?" The tone of his voice dropped to a whisper that was as eerily beautiful as the rustling of a thousand dead rose petals.

Seonghwa's sharp teeth sink a little deeper into your neck, practically tearing the thin skin and drawing blood from it.

Your mind tries desperately to find a coherent excuse for his words, and you unconsciously close your eyes. Your pulse speeds up as vivid images of Seonghwa drinking from you, slowly consuming your life, sip by sip as he fucks you, fill your mind, and send sparks of excitement flying across your skin.

Seonghwa growls low, pulling you harder against him, and before you know it, his hand is around your throat, long clawed fingers clenching at the sides of your neck, cutting off the supply of oxygen to your airways. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, the mixture of pain and pleasure threatening to send you into oblivion and some inexplicable part of you wishes he would squeeze his fingers more tighter.

"I told you to keep your eyes open for me." Seonghwa's cool breath touches your ear. "I am tired of your disobedience, my love. How dare you disobey your prince?" His fingers squeezed harder at your throat, and your eyes opened wide - big and frightened - as you began to gasp for air. Just as you felt the blackness coming to the edges of your vision and your consciousness starting to fog up, Seonghwa let go of you and let you breathe.

Trying to connect your thoughts is like wading through a swamp as the prince unclenches his fingers and pulls them away from your neck. Your eyes begin to water and your fingers clench into his hand, as if it might help you to breathe normally again. But Seonghwa doesn't seem to be finished punishing you for disobeying his orders. He grabs your swollen nipple and pinches it roughly, making you sob pitifully at the pleasantly painful sensation.

You still don't answer to him, and with each passing minute of your silence, Seonghwa's displeasure grows, and there is something dark and utterly evil in his eyes. His fingers moved slowly down the length of your thigh, leaving a trail of scalding cold in their wake, despite the fact that you were now in a warm bath. His lazy touches continued until they slid over the delicate, trembling folds of your pussy. And just like that, the pleasant heat that had been building up in your lower abdomen turned into lava that made you melt at the touch of his hand.

"Shall I forgive your disobedience, my love?" Seonghwa slides his fingers over your cunt, touching every inch of your sensitive skin, from your throbbing clit to your tight, wet entrance, spreading your essence over your folds, making them smooth and shiny. Each time they linger over your little hole, you tense reflexively in preparation for his penetration. "Or should I punish you? Should I teach you a lesson in the proper way to treat your prince?"

"I... I... I think you should punish me, my prince." A gasping moan slips from your lips as your head rests on his shoulder, exposing most of your pale throat to him as Seonghwa slides a long finger inside you, pressing hard against the spongy front wall of your vagina.

"You see? It's not so hard to do the right thing, dear. You could really use some discipline, you little slut." The prince pulls his finger out of your warm little pussy, and then abruptly stands up on his feet and pulls you up behind him until you are sitting in his arms. He carefully steps out of the tub, pulling you tightly against his wet, hard chest, and steps down from the podium where the marble bathtub stands.

Seonghwa walks over to a large, time-worn chair that looks like a throne, lowers himself into it, and turns you over. You find yourself face down in his lap, your arse held up. As his fingers slide down your thighs, leaving red marks from his sharp claws, you let out a treacherous half-moan.

"You look so good, all flushed, my love." Seonghwa's hands cupped your buttocks and squeezed them a few times before spreading them apart, exposing your glistening wet pussy to his gaze. The feel of the cold air on your delicate folds caused your hole to clench involuntarily.

Watching your juices flowing from your pussy, Seonghwa can't help but imagine how you would taste on his tongue and how it would feel to have your pretty pink cunt smothering him as you rock on his face while he eats your sweet dripping pussy juices. Seonghwa can't help but think what you would taste like when he sank his fangs into your little mound and mixed the rich, intoxicating taste of your blood with the essence of you. These thoughts cause him to let out a deep, velvety moan as he digs his fingers deeper into the plump flesh of your buttocks.

"Look at you love, you're absolutely wet, your pussy is literally flowing for me. Are you so excited to be punished? So desperate want to be an obedient, beautiful servant for me?"

"My prince…" The lust flowing through your veins is too strong for your brain to formulate the right words. When you feel Seonghwa's cold breath on your pussy, your pulse accelerates to the point where you almost feel dizzy. He blows lightly on your sticky, soft folds, making you twitch a little.

Nothing could have prepared you for the scalding sensation of his palm coming down hard on your bottom. You scream at the top of your lungs at the throbbing pain, but still more fluid flows from your pussy. Three more slaps land on your bottom, each one leaving a delicious ache. You savoured every second of this bliss that was supposed to be your punishment, although you were terribly ashamed to admit it. He continued to spank you until your screams turned into loud, pitiful sobs and your body began to shake.

"You are shivering, my love. Are you cold?" Seonghwa let out a grim chuckle, knowing exactly what was making you shiver and squirm. "Then let me keep you warm, my love."

As you unconsciously braced yourself for another slap, a loud scream escaped your trembling lips, as instead of the scalding cold of his palm, you felt small drops of hot wax on your bottom. Each drop that fell on your skin left a throbbing pain in its wake, mixed with a strong sense of pleasure that made you sob and wriggle in his lap. The liquid wax was almost too hot for you. Almost. But if you wanted Seonghwa to drink from you, let alone fuck you, you had to get used to the pleasure of pain.

"You have to see yourself now, my love. You are so submissive, so warm, and so wet, you excited little slut that you are. Was this what you wanted? You wanted me to punish you, my little darling. To make this slutty pussy all swollen and wet? Look at yourself." Suddenly, Seonghwa lifts you up and turns you around so that your back is pressed against his chest again. He runs his fingers lightly down your thighs before digging into the soft flesh and spreading your legs as wide as he can so that your wet folds are beautifully exposed and you can see your dripping cunt fully reflected in the mirror.

He reaches down with one hand and slips two fingers into your hole while using the fingers of his other hand to massage your aching clit, making deliciously tight circles that make your hips buck unconsciously in an attempt to get more of that amazing feeling.

"I have never been able to understand why you mortals take such pleasure in being treated like toys. Why you have such a craving for it..." Seonghwa purred in your ear and curled his fingers inside you, finding the point where you began to see stars and applying the perfect amount of pressure. Silenced by the soft whispers of shadows swirling in the darkness, the moan you let out echoed through the lord's chambers. "But seeing how desperate and pathetic you look now, how needy, I'm beginning to understand. You want someone to take control of you—someone powerful to rule you at will. And my love, you are so lucky that I can bring anyone I want to their knees. And you are no exception." He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound, and you involuntarily let out a cry of loss. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see long, clear strands of your own slime dripping down his fingers.

He brings the wet fingers to his sensual lips before his long tongue slips out of his mouth and wraps around them, licking up your juices. As he begins to taste you, Seonghwa lets out a deep moan of pleasure.

"Now show me how beautiful you look on your knees before me, my little slut."

"At your command, my prince." You obediently obey Seonghwa's command and let yourself slip from Seonghwa's lap onto the cold stone floor. From your new position, the aching throbbing between your thighs becomes even more pronounced. As did the burning sensation on your inflamed buttocks.

Slowly, your eyes slid up the length of his delicious thighs before coming to rest on the massive, velvety length of his cock. Of course, his cock was as magnificent as the prince himself—large, wiry, and glistening with the abundant pre-cum that flowed from the dark pink, swollen head. You had had a few lovers before your escape from the village, but none of them had been anything like Seonghwa. Although you weren't a virgin and you knew how to treat a man and how to give him pleasure, you weren't sure if your meagre knowledge would be enough to please the gorgeous vampire prince.

You looked up at him with your big, shining eyes, and unconsciously, you licked your plump lips. You wanted to lick his cock. You wanted to take it in your warm mouth until you were choking on it. You wanted to make him proud of you, to want you to be that one who warmed his cold, solitary bed. But most of all, you wanted to be the source of his life, the immortal vessel that he would drink your life from like precious wine. All of these desires and feelings you had for the prince were humiliatingly embarrassing, and if it hadn't been for the way he looked at you—like a predator catching the tantalising scent of the prey he was about to hunt down—you would have burned with shame. But you were wrong about one thing: Seonghwa didn't look like a predator; he was a predator and the most dangerous and seductive one that ever existed.

"My sweet little lady, you look so desperate right now." Seonghwa purred, one hand digging into the softness of your hair to pull your face even closer to his cock. "You can have a taste if you want it so badly."

You lean forward and gently stroke the wet and flushed head of his cock with your tongue, teasing it with light, cat-like licks. His chiselled chest, covered in glistening water droplets and soft rose petals, rises and falls with deep breaths. The textured muscles of his abdomen tense as you run your tongue along the silky length of his cock, outlining the seductively swollen vein with the tip of your tongue.

"You look so beautiful like this, kneeling in front of me with your soft lips wrapped around my cock." Seonghwa whispers in a voice so dark and deep that it hits you right in your cunt. It's precious—a sweet jewel of praise from the beautiful vampire prince, which you will wear like a good servant. But in spite of the sweet praise, you hear his direct command: "Take my cock in your mouth.".

It's unlikely you'll be able to get his thick cock all the way down your throat, but you wanted to try. Your lips open and the head of his cock slides easily into your mouth and for a second your tongue rests against his slit and you taste the thick, sweet taste of his cum. Seonghwa moans softly as the head of his cock is completely enveloped in the soft flesh of your lips. A seductive sound runs through your body like a thousand scalding kisses and you raise your eyes to look up at Seonghwa.

He is watching you, looking utterly wicked and like a god himself, wrapped in the thin skin of a man. The flames of the candle danced on the perfect features of his face, shining like a full moon in a world of endless night. His eyes were stars of otherworldly shadow - a depth of infinity that could crush the souls of those far more resilient than you. But it was his lips that most attracted you. They were unjustly obscene, swollen and sinfully scarlet. Temptation and lust are one, and you crave to taste it.

These thoughts make you swallow and unconsciously let his cock slide deeper into the silkiness of your mouth and the tightness of your throat. The nasty gagging sound that you make is so sexy that Seonghwa can't get enough of it. You look absolutely sinful, and it makes him want to possess every part of you. He wants to taste you in every sense, bind you to him, sink his sharp teeth into you, make you his immortal likeness, and then rape you to the deepest depths of time, making you scream like a whore—his whore.

"Come on, darling, take it deeper. Don't worry, every fluid in a vampire's body acts as an aphrodisiac. You'll be able to take my cock all the way down your pretty little throat. Now open your mouth wide for your prince. Seonghwa said and an evil gleam flashed in his eyes.

You could feel the velvety softness of his cock on your tongue, surrounded by the warmth of your mouth as you relaxed your jaw and let his cock slide deeper into your mouth. You take him halfway before you start to choke. Tears burn in your eyes as your lips stretch beautifully around his thick girth. Seonghwa's cock is so damn big for you. It's so heavy, pulsating in the melted, wet juices of your mouth. You wrap your hand around his balls, gently massaging and sometimes touching the base of the dick with your nails. You suck diligently on the head, occasionally letting your flexible tongue run along the slit where the pre-cum oozes out.

"That feels so damn good." The words fell from Seonghwa's plush lips as he threw his head back and rocked his hips a little. The long, midnight-coloured strands of his hair shone like a halo around the top of his head. "You're doing so well, my love. Just... just take my cock like a good maiden." His grip on your hair tightened, and you looked up at him with big, watery eyes, your cunt clenching at how dark the tone of his voice had become.

"I'll do anything for you..." You moan loudly, drinking in every reaction Seonghwa gives you. Your desire to please him grows and grows.

You so desperately want to touch yourself between your legs, a small, shiny puddle of your mucus forming on the stone floor beneath you. You want to climb back onto his lap and let him fill you with his big, thick cock. You want to feel him in your belly, in your heart, and in your blood.

You take him deeper, relaxing your throat and bending your head down until your nose touches the smooth skin of his pubic bone. Reflexively, you swallow around him, eliciting deep moans of pleasure from his sensual lips.

"Bloody hell... Mmm. You are such a good little slut." Hwa purrs as he begins to thrust his hips into your mouth.

His cock plunges down your throat again and again, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum mixed with your drool, filling your mouth with intoxicating sweetness each time he pulls his cock out, until only the silky hot head is left in your mouth and your tongue rests against his slit. As his cock sank fully back into your throat, his hand slid down to massage your distended throat, feeling the bulging hardness of his own cock through the delicate wall of your neke.

Whatever restraint he had before was broken by the feeling of the warm walls of your throat contracting around him and the pleasurable pressure of his hand on your neck. Seonghwa begins to thrust his cock down your throat fast and hard, a flood of praise from his lips that makes you glow with pleasure.

"You have such a perfect mouth for me, my love. It is perfect for me to fuck. Make me come, my love. I want to fill your mouth with my cum." The combination of his gorgeous body above you, glistening from the water and decorated with rose petals, the sensual praise—full of dirty, lewd words—and the way he uses your throat make you even wetter. You feel a new load of mucus pouring out of your pussy. " Look at how your throat is swelling from my cock and how the saliva is dripping from your mouth. You're enjoying this too much, aren't you? You have made such a mess on the floor; do you want me to force you to lick it up with your tongue?

You moo in response to his words. The contraction of your throat around his cock almost makes you gasp as the tender walls fit tightly around the thick, velvety length, clenching incredibly hard around it. His hips twitch, his cock pulsates, and the grip on your hair becomes brutal, but it only elicits more moans from you, vibrating along the length of his cock in the most amazing way.

Seonghwa pushed his dick into your mouth once more before he came. It was a mesmerising sight, almost hypnotic: the thrusts of his hips were interrupted, his soft, obscenely sensual, swollen lips parted in a deep, ecstatic moan, and his body shook as his orgasm overwhelmed him. A thick, sweet cum shot down your throat, and you began to swallow the copious stream of his pleasure. His sperm was nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human sperm, and you marvelled again at how everything about vampires was designed to lure and intoxicate their victims in every way possible.

As he pulled away, his sperm began to spill out of your mouth, running down your chin and dripping onto the floor, where the puddle of your slime grew larger. Seonghwa reached his hand up to your face and ran his fingers over your swollen lips. He gathered the thick, pearly liquid on his fingertips, then pushed it into your open, pliable mouth.

"Such a good girl." Seonghwa murmured as your tongue wrapped around his fingers and cleaned them.

When he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a slight 'pop', you lifted your watery eyes back to his. Long trails of tears shone like diamonds across the puffy, flushed cheeks of your face.

"My prince, I beg you. I need to come so badly. Please let me come, my prince, please. My pussy so needs it." You begged, almost whimpering, as you lay at his feet. In the bliss that followed his orgasm, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroking your hair lightly with his other hand, and looked lovingly at you with his bottomless dark eyes. His long, fluffy lashes fluttered like a dying sun in the purple twilight, glittering in all the colours of the spectrum in the dim light of the bath.

"Oh, my little lady, let your prince make you feel better." Seonghwa cooed. His voice was a velvety purr wrapped in darkness.

Seonghwa rises up from his chair in an elegant manner and holds out a graceful hand for you to help you to your feet. Your fingers tremble as you take his hand and slowly rise, almost stumbling on your wobbly, shaky legs, but Seonghwa's firm grip prevents you from falling. The prince's tall, naked body towers over you like an ancient, dark deity, making you feel small and vulnerable under the weight of his bottomless, black gaze. He wraps his long, cold fingers around your chin and lifts your face up so that you're looking straight at him.

At that moment, the room seems to shrink, and the air is filled with something sensual, hot, and dark. Something that almost makes your skin tingle with a sharp, glass-like arousal. The otherworldly presence of the prince was undeniable—a dangerous dance between living and dying. A loud sob escaped from your lips, which were still covered in the remnants of semen, as Seonghwa leaned closer to you, his beautiful, plump lips hovering just a few inches away from yours.

"Now it's my turn to have a taste of you, my love." The first touch of his plush lips against yours sent a dizzying rush of excitement up and down your spine. You let out a loud moan into his beautiful, soft mouth as Seonghwa's long tongue pushed your lips apart and immediately took hold of your mouth. His kiss is all-consuming and devouring, as if he wants to devour your very soul and take you over the edge of life with him. He ravages your soft lips with an intensity that borders on sadistic pleasure, and you are so intoxicated by the kiss that you almost don't notice when his sharp teeth sink into your innocent lower lip and your mouth fills with thick blood.

When too much of the viscous, saturated liquid gathers in your mouth, you reflexively swallow, feeling a lingering metallic taste on your tongue, which disappears almost immediately, licked away by Seonghwa's long, flexible tongue, which wraps around your tongue like a snake. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, long fingers tugging painfully at the soft strands, causing a palpable burning sensation on the delicate skin of your head. With his other hand, he wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to his cold, hard body, using this rough grip to restrict your movements.

You give a little moan against his lips, almost relishing the pain you're feeling—the hot excitement in your stomach twisted into a knot—too tight and painful to ignore. The insides of your thighs are uncomfortably sticky and wet, and you have to squeeze your legs together to ease the throbbing in your needy cunt.

Your blood tastes of black roses, forgotten poems, confessions of love—it burns all of Seonghwa's senses, and you feel rather than hear him purr softly with pleasure—a velvety, decadent, almost animal sound coming from deep inside his chest. He continues to greedily lap up the blood from your mouth, sliding his tongue over your palate, your gums, and the inside of your cheek. Seonghwa roughly pulls your wounded lower lip into his vicious mouth, only to bite down on it with his sharp teeth, causing more of your blood to drip onto his tongue.

The kiss seems endless, and your mind begins to drift; you feel like you're delirious from the feeling of the cold heat of his beautiful, sensual mouth. The spiral of lust inside you tightens; the pressure builds until it becomes too much for you to bear, and for a long, eternal moment, it seems to you that Seonghwa wants to keep you at that height forever. You barely notice when his hand releases your waist and slips between your bodies, and you squeal loudly, pulling yourself away from his incredibly seductive lips as his cold fingers suddenly pinch your sensitive clit.

"Oh, my God. That's so... Too m-m-much...' You stammer out your words, unable to form sentences; the pain and the pleasure mix together, and you feel completely intoxicated. 'My prince, please...' As his fingers rub relentlessly against your clit, you can't stop yourself from moaning loudly. The pressure inside you increases as you rise higher and higher, but the lack of any particular rhythm makes it difficult for you to come to the edge, and the intensity of his touch becomes almost overwhelming for you.

"What's the matter, my darling? Does your sweet pussy still hurt? Don't I make it easier for you? Or are you just a greedy little bitch that has a craving for more?" The deep purr of his voice vibrates through your body as his fingers begin to roughly squeeze your clit.

You let out a helpless moan in response to his words; the sound you make is full of both need and desire. All you can think of now is that Seonghwa is using you, that he is destroying you so thoroughly and so brutally that his mark will be imprinted on your body and your soul forever.

"Oh, I can see it now. You're just like all the thousands of other people—a pathetic, ungrateful whore." Seonghwa suddenly lets go of your hair, and your head falls back like a doll's. And God, in all of his eternity, Seonghwa has never seen anyone more beautiful than you, especially when you have crystal tears rolling down your soft, flushed cheeks. You remind him of a broken porcelain doll, fragile and delicate, which he can glue back together in any way he likes.

"Please forgive me... Forgive me, my prince." In the midst of this chaos of sensations, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. The Prince's black velvet eyes, heavy and clouded, his sensual lips, swollen and smeared with your blood, and his magnificent face have taken on a kind of waxy appearance—features smoothed to a painful perfection that could never exist among the living, like the face of a saint descended from an icon. It's almost frightening, but at the same time, it makes you want to beg him all the more desperately. Please let me cum, my prince. I need to cum so badly...'

"Oh, my love...' Seonghwa purrs indulgently, admiring the hot tears that are rolling down your face as his cold fingers continue to circle around your swollen clit. Your legs are trembling from his touch, and you have the feeling you could faint at any moment. As his two long fingers, wet with your own slime, slide into your quivering hole, you catch your breath and gasp for air. You're so sensitive to the slightest touch, and Seonghwa takes advantage of that, pressing his fingers against the silky walls of your pussy, causing you to arch your hips towards him in the hope of more stimulation. "Just look at you, my little darling. You're crying so sweetly for me. Begging so sweetly for your prince charming to have his way with your pretty pussy." The tone of his voice is like velvet wrapped in the darkness of the night, and his feline eyes glow with a kind of otherworldly evil that can barely be contained in the black, unfathomable depths of his irises.

The heavy fog of lust completely envelops your mind, and you barely register his words. The prince's fingers dig deep into the tightness of your plush, plump cunt, and Seonghwa draws the cold, velvety pads of his fingers to press and rub the sweet, sticky spot in your pussy. He does it roughly and sharply, and he doesn't stop stimulating the over-excited, spongy walls of your cunt until your mucus begins to flow into the palm of his hand.

"It's too much... It's too much, my prince. I can't take it anymore. I can't. Ah, please, please! Seonghwa."

"But am I not merciful to you, my dear? Does not the touch of my hand soothe the pain, my love?" With his other hand, he cups your breast, squeezing and twisting the tender nipple between his fingers as he goes. "Do you want me to stop?" He asks as he relentlessly inserts a third finger into your squelching pussy, and the stretching of your little hole becomes both agonising and pleasurable at the same time.

'No!' You cry out, shaking your head desperately, the walls of your cunt clinging to his fingers, clenching and throbbing around the long appendages that are adorned with massive rings of precious stones, as the wave of pleasure slowly begins to roll over you. "No. Don't stop... Please don't stop, my prince. I want you to keep going... I'm too close."

Seonghwa laughs darkly as she leans down to your neck and lightly bites down on the spot where your pulse beats with her sharp teeth, almost feeling your orgasm on her tongue.

"Will you cum for me? Cum on the fingers of your prince?" You feel like you're soaring, higher and higher, and just when you have the feeling you're about to reach your peak, the pleasure evaporates and you plummet. The loss of your orgasm makes you give a pathetic whimper.

"No, I beg you. Please, my prince...' You sob as Seonghwa pulls his fingers out of you completely, leaving your greedy, needy hole clutching at nothing, desperately trying to hold on to the melting remains of your orgasm. You collapse next to him, becoming like a beautiful, broken thing in his hands, looking up at him with your beautiful, crying eyes, begging for his mercy. 'Sonhawa...' His name tastes of violence, of the Middle Ages, holiness, and sex, and it leaves a stigma on your lips the moment you utter it.

'Oh, my poor little girl.' A fake sense of pity fills his voice as he ignores the way your wounded lower lip quivers at the loss of relief and the way more tears flow from your eyes. A devilish smile blossoms on his gorgeous, plump lips before his hand returns to your wet clit and begins to rub the super-sensitive bundle of nerves in slow, hard, figure-eight motions. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it's not up to you whether you can have an orgasm or not. You should be grateful for what I am giving you." The vampire purrs, running his tongue along the sweet spots of your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Under the pressure of fangs as sharp as broken glass, the skin tears like paper. You squeal at the pain that ripples through your veins, but the sensation fades quickly as his fingers sink back into the silky warmth of your tight cunt.

Seonghwa pushes his thumb down to press it against your slippery clit and rubs it roughly. And you instinctively squeeze your legs together, squeezing the plump flesh around his forearm as if that will stop the relentless stimulation of his fingers on your G-spot and his thumb on your swollen, throbbing clit. He lets out a deep, dark moan into your skin, kisses your neck, and licks the protruding drops of blood from you.

You're such a mess; your cum is dripping down the inside of your thighs, dripping onto the floor, and the sound your cunt makes every time his fingers go in and out of you is disgustingly wet, squelching, and utterly sinful.

The prince watches you go dumb and twitchy under his touch. He plunges his long fingers even deeper into the wet, velvety walls of your cunt and bends them so that the pads of his fingers press perfectly against your golden spot, causing your sticky, wet fluid to squirt profusely all around you. He laughs as you squeal and squirm.

"That's right, my love, make me dirty. Fill this room with the divine fragrance of your excitement." He rubs your cunt randomly, and it makes your legs shake. You gasp at the sobs and moans that echo through his bathtub, echoing with such a loud, deafening echo that you're sure the sound is reverberating throughout the castle. Your brain is clouded in a haze, and all you can feel is Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa....

As if he hadn't just ripped the most intense orgasm out of you, the prince pushes his fingers back into your plump cunt, and you shudder, your pussy clenching and a pearly, slippery drop dripping from your wounded hole.

"I can't take it anymore... don't need to...' He ignores you, preferring to sink his fingers deeper into your plush walls, your tongue flicking out of your mouth as you breathe heavily.

"Wasn't that what you wanted, dear? This is exactly what you asked me so desperately for, isn't it? I'm just giving it to you. You will cum again. And you will do this until I decide you've had enough." Seonghwa tells you and does not give you a chance to disobey his order. His fingers are thrusting faster and faster into the sloppy mess of your cunt, and your eyes are closing in a euphoria of pleasure, and you are arching your whole body to him. The beautiful veins on his forearms are surging up as he touches your cunt. "Come on, my love, behave yourself, and submit to your prince." Seonghwa twists his wrist, his fingers sliding up and down until they come to rest on your G-spot, and you squeal in exhaustion as you squirt your cum all over his gorgeous body, soiling it. The slime pools on his palm and drips onto the inside of your thigh, and he leans down to touch his lips to your open mouth as he pulls his fingers out of your used, burning pussy. He softly massages your thighs and licks your lips soothingly in a strange imitation of a kiss.

You groan as the last waves of your orgasm begin to subside, but even so, you're still a long way from the satisfaction you crave. The distant thought of the aphrodisiac in his seed floats to the edge of your consciousness, but it disappears instantly, replaced by a burning need to be filled by his cock and a feeling that you may die if he doesn't satisfy that need.

'Please. I want you, I need you, and I want to feel you inside my body. There is nothing else that matters to me, my prince." There is pure desperation in the sound of your voice.

Seonghwa pulls away from you and watches as you gasp for breath and shiver as you look up at him through your thick, wet lashes.

"You really are nothing but a greedy little slut. Seonghwa whispers as he digs his fingers into your thighs and lifts your body up as if you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you so that your legs are wrapped around his thin, perfect waist. The head of his hard cock touches the entrance of your vagina between your slick, swollen folds. "You're so lucky your blood isn't the only thing that draws me, my love." He begins to walk slowly along the length of the tub, carrying you in his arms as if you were a fragile doll.

There is darkness in his bedroom; the thick, icy cold fills the room and tingles on your heated skin like a hundred needles. As Seonghwa gently lays you down on his royal bed, wrapped in silken sheets, you freeze, waiting for him to touch you. He leans over you like a dark angel that has descended from the heavens to destroy you, and you open your lips to catch his ghostly breath in your mouth as he speaks.

"From the moment you entered my chambers, I could feel the sweetness of your cunt on my tongue; you're aroused; you need me so obviously." His teeth graze the skin of your throat as he speaks. 'I can feel it in your blood...' For half a second, you feel the sharp pressure of his fangs as they press against the pre-existing wounds from his previous bite. It makes every muscle in your body tingle with the anticipation of pleasure. "It is tempting and seductive, but I have a taste for you in so many more ways, my love." There was a heavy pause between you as his gaze slid down the length of your body and stopped at your glistening pussy. 'And I'm really spoilt to choose. But are you up to it, my little servant? Can you, can you satisfy my insatiable hunger?'.

His words make your toes clench, and the pleasure in your belly grows once again, turning into a real flame that lies in your veins, and you let out a long moan, filled with longing and desperation.

"I will do whatever you want me to do, my prince. I will be anything you need me to be...'

Seonghwa doesn't answer you but instead begins to kiss your neck, slowly moving his kisses down to your heaving, plump breasts. He raises his hypnotic eyes towards you, and his lashes flutter as the vampire teases your swollen pink nipple with the tip of his sharp tongue. Your body arches up over the bed, your breath catching in your throat as he sucks the sensitive bud into the silkiness of his warm mouth. His tongue splashes and swirls around your nipple as he sucks on your breast before he releases it from his mouth with a wet sound.

"The human body has always been such a fascination to me—so soft, so delicate, so responsive to every fleeting touch." He whispers as he continues to slowly kiss your body. Seonghwa runs his tongue over your navel and licks the skin of your belly. He takes his time; he has an eternity of time, and this knowledge is driving you crazy. You shudder as his elegant palms come to rest on your thighs and as he spreads your legs wide so that your cunt is completely exposed to his gaze. With his supernatural eyesight, you knew that he would be able to see every detail of you in the half-light of the bedroom. Your heart began to beat faster and faster in anticipation of what you knew was going to happen next. The lingering feeling of your previous orgasm was once again tingling you from the inside.

Seonghwa sits down between your legs, and you let out a stifled cry as he brings his godlike face close to your pussy and runs his tongue between the sticky folds.

He immediately lifts his eyes to you, the flames of the candle reflected in his dark irises, the black abyss of them pulling you down into an endless, lustful wasteland. His hands are wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer to him. The pleasure wraps itself tightly around the base of your spine. Seonghwa's tongue licks your clit hard, the exquisite taste of you tingling it, tingling it under the marble-gold skin where the black vampire blood splashes hotly in veins.

Your juices ooze out onto his tongue and onto his lips, dripping down to where the insides of your thighs are reddened by his sharp claws. He drags his tongue along your folds in slow, teasing licks, savouring the taste of you as he feasts on your cunt, so wet and sweet, so juicy and plump under his tongue. Your hips arch forward, and Seonghwa allows you to be pressed even closer to his beautiful face. The palms of his hands slide down your thighs, and you feel how his thumbs push your labia apart, just so that he can slide his tongue deep into your wet hole. A series of high-pitched moans escape from your mouth as you run your fingers through his long black hair, your nails digging into the skin of his scalp as you do so.

"It tastes so damn sweet; you're like a wine that has been aged for centuries, intoxicating and scorching. I've never tasted anything like it before." The vampire purrs into your sensitive cunt, burying his face even deeper between your legs, his skilful tongue and his sharp nose rubbing against your clit, giving you heavenly pleasure in all the right places.

His mouth continues to move along your overly sensitive nerves, and he smiles as you begin to twitch and shake. The sensation is overwhelming, and you begin to sob openly again.

"My prince, that feels so good... ahh!" A particularly loud moan comes out of you as his tongue curls round and touches your g-spot.

With the pad of his thumb, Seonghwa begins to run circles over your clit, and you begin to thrash around on the silk sheet, trying to get away from the abusive touch on your painfully throbbing clit. Seonghwa growls and slaps you viciously on your thigh, which manages to calm you down, before he hides his face between your legs once more and continues to tease your essence. Pain and pleasure merge together, and you can't tell where dreaming ends and reality begins. So many nights you've spent in vivid fantasy dreams, full of images that would get you burned at the stake if the people of your village ever found out. And here you are, lying in your prince's luxurious bed while he eats you as if his life depended on it.

Feeling his tongue between your velvety walls and his thumb circling your clit, occasionally scratching it with his sharp fingernail, the sensation of your orgasm has crept up on you. With his heightened senses, he knows you're close, and he's balancing on the edge of coming. One more stroke of his tongue, one more rub of his fingers over your clit, and your walls begin to clench together in the spasms of an overwhelming orgasm. The edges of your vision go black, your sight fading as you fly off the cliff and fall into an abyss of pleasure. Your head is thrown back, and your spine is arched in a perfect arc of sin and bliss.

An approving purr escapes Seonghwa's devilishly beautiful lips as your cunt twitches and clings to his tongue as he continues to splash in the copious slime that pours out of you, lapping up your release, insatiable and deaf to your pleas as you begin to squirm. Any attempt to wriggle away from him is crushed by the rough grip of his hand on your thigh. The nails dig into the plump flesh, drawing out your blood. Rivers of scarlet, like divine tears, flow down your scarred skin and drip down onto the bed.

'Seonghwa...' His name rings out on your lips as his own lips continue to press passionately and relentlessly against your pussy, sucking and licking, greedily swallowing up all the liquid that flows from you. His jaw moves smoothly and somehow lazily as your body almost rises to meet another orgasm. Your fingers clench tightly in his hair, your moans and squeals blend together in a symphony of pure bliss, and you come again on his tongue, even harder than before.

Your body is shaking in never-ending ecstasy. Ecstasy burns your body and turns it to ashes. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes as he licks you thoroughly and gently, until your body is completely boneless and soft to the touch.

After a few agonisingly long moments, he pulls away from your cunt and blows lightly on the inflamed, abused folds after his caresses, and you shiver as his cold, ghostly breath touches your flesh. Seonghwa's chin is wet with the viscous slime of you and his own saliva. He stares at you, enjoying the sight of your helplessness and vulnerability, all of you at his mercy. The vampire can see the sheen of your juices spreading down the inside of your thighs and dripping from your swollen, reddened centre.

You've slowly come down from your high, still swimming in a lustful haze, and even though you've had several orgasms, you're still not satisfied. You need more. Much more. Seonghwa was absolutely right—you're nothing but a greedy human whore.

"Please... You barely squeezed out. Please fuck me... " You desperately wanted to feel him inside you. You wanted him to writhe with the pleasure of your blood and body, as you did with his favour.

"Do you want more? Greedy, insatiable whore." Seonghwa purred, his black eyes glowing with an almost otherworldly radiance in the darkness of the bedroom. "What are you going to give me in return, my love? Shouldn't you be thanking your prince?"

You turn your head faintly to expose your neck and hear a dark, velvety laughter licking your skin before his chubby lips find a tender spot on your throat. Weightless kisses that turn to nibbles, and you whimper under his care. He hasn't hurt your skin yet; he is playing skillfully with you, and a slight feeling of unease grips you. The lack of control over your body, over where and when he would bite you, or over how rough he would be with you, was a big part of your nervousness.

Too quickly for you to notice, one of his hands cupped your chin to hold you in place, and then the sharp pain of his fangs pierced your throat. As he began to drink, a muffled moan escaped your mouth. The shock of his cold bite passed through your body like an icy wave. Seonghwa's hypnotic eyes closed as your thick, precious blood ran over his tongue. The sensation was a temporary respite from the incessant hunger that plagued him, dulling the cravings and soothing his stomach. His plump lips curled into a smile as he pressed harder against your skin.

He let go of your chin and placed his hand on your chest instead, gently squeezing the plump flesh. The possessive, intimate touch of his hand contrasted sharply with the sting of his fangs. It soothed you strangely, and the tension in your body eased. You could also feel the hardness of his big, thick cock against your thigh.

Seonghwa could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his lips; his pace was fast and weakened by the rapid loss of blood. He should have stopped, unless he wants to completely exhaust your body now. The lord pulls away from you as he feels the saturation of your blood—your life flowing through his veins—the blood thickening and becoming viscous, turning a shade of deep night darkness. A sweet moment when your life becomes his.

You try to focus your blurry gaze on him as Seonghwa pulls away from you. He smears the blood running down his chin with his fingers and licks the residue off his pads.

"You're perfect. The most delicious food I've tasted in centuries of my life. There's something special in your blood...' Seonghwa whispers, caressing your cheek, brushing the dishevelled hair from your flushed face, and wiping away the tears that remain on your lashes. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you."

You had absolutely no energy to answer him and just lay there, melting under his touch. He continues to touch you lightly until Seonghwa leans down to suck on your nipple, his tongue swirling over it in slow, deliberate movements. Your back arched, and your lips parted in a soft moan. For a few minutes, he just enjoys the feel of your soft nipple in his mouth. He slowly sucks your breasts, and the next moment he lifts your legs and wraps them around his slender waist.

Seonghwa wraps his hand around his cock and runs the thick, wet head of it over your trembling, sensitive folds a couple of times before she pushes it into you. The feel of his cock stretching your walls is almost immediately the trigger for another orgasm. You moaned loudly at the long-awaited feeling of being filled. Seonghwa has stretched you out so beautifully and pressed himself perfectly against your silky, smooth walls, which are covered with your juices.

He slowly enters you with his whole massive length; you are so sensitive that you can feel every inch of him and every vein on your walls so clearly that it's almost painful. You press your hips against his, desperate for friction. Seonghwa grins as he begins to move, dragging his cock along your quivering walls and letting out a deep moan every time the delicate edges of your hole cling to the head of his cock.

His beautiful eyes focus on your face as he moves, narrowing with his sly smile as he finds the perfect angle to make your eyes roll with pleasure.

"Look at me, my love." Seonghwa ordered. "I want to have a look into your eyes while I fuck you into oblivion."

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and the prince purrs in endorsements as he begins to thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace, thrusting so hard into your tight, squirming pussy that you can almost feel his cock in the back of your throat. Your mind goes completely blank as his cock comes all the way out of you before he plunges back into your inviting warmth all the way down to the base of his dick. The rhythm is rough and brutal, but it feels almost like heaven to you.

"You're such a good girl. Look how well you're taking it. You know, vampires can go into a frenzy when they fuck. But you're not afraid of that, are you?" The way you're tensed up and the way you're trembling underneath him almost brings him to the brink of madness, but Seonghwa holds back his animal urges and slows down his pace instead.

You let out a wordless cry, completely lost in nothing but the obscene sound of your copulation—the sticky slap of skin against skin.

"I am going to fill you with so much of my cum that it will drip from you for days, my love." Seonghwa wants to mark you in every possible way; he wants to tie you up; he wants to bite you; he wants to breed you. He wants you to belong only to him—to his world, to his darkness, to his blood, and to his own kind. "Everyone will have the knowledge that you are mine, for they will have the smell of my blood and my seed on you." He breathes into your ear as his pace picks up, and he sets an agonising rhythm, each movement of his cock hitting that special place inside of you.

'Seonghwa!' Your walls squeeze against him even harder than before as another orgasm begins to creep closer to you. The prince presses his fingers against your clit, and then presses his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. As his mouth slides so passionately over your lips, as his thumb strokes in circles around your quivering clit, and as his thick cock slides in and out of you, the heat that is building up inside of you becomes almost unbearable.

"Mmm, you feel so good." He tells you, running his tongue over your trembling lower lip. "You will belong to me forever.".

The thought that Seonghwa could turn you into a vampire and spend the rest of eternity with you was enough to bring you to orgasm. Uncontrollable pleasure engulfed your entire body. Seonghwa moaned velvetily, resting his face against your neck as you began to come. Your silky walls squeezed his cock as your climax plunged your consciousness into complete darkness. The pace of his thrusts quickened, and before long, he was muffling your cries of pleasure with his mouth, devouring every lewd sound that managed to escape from you.

"My prince... Seonghwa...' You managed to breathe out against the lips of his mouth. 'I want to be with you forever... I want you to be inside me...'

Your words filled him with a lust that was far greater than his thirst for blood, and soon he was inside of you as deep as he could go, his cock twitching as he found his own orgasm. He came in your pussy, filling you with his thick, viscous cum as he called out your name in a hoarse voice.

After a few moments, Seonghwa came out of you and gave you a chance to catch your breath. The mixture of his cum and your own juices slowly poured out of your used pussy and started to drip down onto the sheets.

"And you will, my love. You certainly will.'

Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the gorgeous vampire prince circles the precious crystal coffin, his fingertips lightly stroking the cold, smooth crystal. The sneaky light of the somnambulistic stars falls on your face like the veil of a bride. He had arranged you here in all luxury: your hair was covered with diamond powder, glittering in the lace of the moonlight; he had painted your lips a delicate scarlet, the same colour as the cheeks of the radiant seraphim in church frescoes; and under your tongue he had placed petals of black violets, soaked in his midnight blood. Your body was wrapped in the most luxurious antique lace, embroidered with mother-of-pearl tears of dragons and pearls from the bottom of the sea.

You were so beautiful... seductive, like a deadly flower that lures prey before swallowing it whole.

As he arranged hundreds of black velvet roses around your fragile body, a shy softness tinted his godlike face. Thorny rose bushes bloomed around the coffin as the castle of fairytales turned into a tomb with only one living soul.

"You're in no danger now." Seonghwa whispered, stroking your beautiful hair. "Nothing can harm you now, and you will always be my love. Always and forever..."

Seonghwa is seated at a small round table and is playing his leisurely game with the fates. The elegant hands of the beautiful Dweller of Darkness skillfully guide the Hand of Fate. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate probabilities. One by one, Seonghwa turns over the ancient, worn cards, the corners of his devilishly sensual lips curving slightly as he sees the familiar layout: Lovers, Death, Empress, Love, Eternity, Beloved. The gaze of his fathomless, hypnotic eyes turns to you—his majestic bride, awaiting her awakening.

It's always been this way and always will be: people avoid the village that stands by the ominous Gothic castle in the middle of a dead rose garden, where, according to ancient legend, the beautiful Midnight Prince and his gorgeous bride keep the guilty legacy of their bloodthirsty ancestors.

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