#newly wed with an heir on the way

[theragethatisdesire]

perzītsos - bakugou katsuki x afab!reader, 18+!!

uh....surprise! i really love asoiaf, and i've seen so many posts about barbarian!katsuki, but i wasn't really successful in writing him, so here's my take on a fantasy au with katsuki. this takes place pre-fire and blood, really in the "medieval" days of the targaryen dynasty, with a targaryen heir!reader. i took some creative liberties with targaryen marriage customs, but i think they're sorta fun.

this is a beast of a one-shot, but there's lots of lore preceding this (do i smell a prequel?), including that reader asked for katsuki's hand in marriage, and neither of them were really expecting to wind up in a marriage bed together. i normally don't write virginity loss, but i made an exception for these two, i really do love them!!! fair warning, there's lots of high valyrian in here, which i don't speak fluently either, so i'm going to add some translations at the end :)

"perzītsos" - "little flame"

enjoy <3

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

wc: 13.5k (told ya it's a beast)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut. bakugou is roughly twenty-eight in this fic.

cws: virginity loss, aged-up characters, fingering, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving mentioned), reader has female anatomy, smut, pretentious amounts of high valyrian pet names

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Leaving the raucous merriment of the great hall behind, its stone walls bursting at the seams with the raunchy, jeering calls of Bakugou’s soldiers and the titters of the ladies of the court, only seems to emphasize the echoing silence of your chambers. The servants had completed the arduous job of transferring your things into your new apartments today; you recognize the tapestries that had decorated your walls since you were a child, now dwarfed by the massive dimensions of your new quarters, and the candelabra you’d been gifted by a nobleman at your seventh name day sits upon a newly constructed ebony desk.

Nearly every hard surface in the room—desks, tables, even small areas of the floor—has been covered in the fat, yellow beeswax candles crafted in the kitchens many stories below your feet, flames dancing and casting shadows this way and that over the stone walls. Many a night have you forgone sleep in favor of losing yourself in the waltz of a small fire on a wick, the sometimes-frantic, sometimes-untroubled rhythm of the flame in the breeze of an open window. Tonight, though, not even the hundreds of flames, these little extensions of the hot, ancient blood that flows through your veins, can distract you from your fate.

“I remember these rooms,” you say offhandedly, bringing one hand to the fine curtains that hang around the tapestry bed, “they were my mother’s.”

Bakugou stays stock still where he stands, letting you examine the marriage bed. The wood was brought into these chambers several weeks ago, alongside a handful of master carpenters. The bed is enormous, easily large enough for three people to get a full night’s sleep without touching each other. It had been built inside of the room so that the intended dimensions could be fulfilled without the worry of actually fitting it through the door, which it would not. The sight of it makes an apprehensive shiver rock through your frame.

“You were born here,” Bakugou says gruffly, catching you by surprise. “I remember.”

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised cautiously at his decision to speak. Considering what lies before you both, the breach in his silence is appreciated, if unexpected. He’s hardly said two words to you all night; two words besides the lengthy wedding vows you’d exchanged before gods and men alike, speaking them practically into each other’s mouths in the purring, labyrinthine cadence of the Old Tongue. The metallic taste of his blood, brushed onto your tongue by his own thumb, is still nestled between your teeth, worryingly permanent.

“You remember?”

“Hardly.” Bakugou diverts his gaze from you to where your marriage bed lies, squinting his eyes as if he’s trying to remember what it had looked like more than twenty years past. “I was three.”

It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, given that you’d practically been raised alongside Bakugou, taken your first steps, tasted your first victories, had your first stumbles under his watchful crimson gaze. The required distance had been there, as you’d always been more of an heir than a little girl, and Bakugou had been busy with his training anyhow, but he was a steadfast part of your memories, even if he had been mostly in the blurry peripherals until the most recent years. This confession, that he had stood in the same room as your howling, bloodied form had been brought into the world, makes you feel more exposed than you already do in your thin gown.

Bakugou must take notice of how your shoulders unintentionally tense up, because his lips pull into a small frown, not one of anger, but seemingly guilt. You sigh, rolling your shoulders back and squaring yourself to face him, trying not to let your cheeks burn hot as your nipples peak under the singular layer of fabric hiding the finer details of your body from him. He’s intimidating, and both of you know it, but considering that you’re the reason you two find yourselves in this room, you think that maybe you should be the one to guide him along.

Bakugou approaches you slowly, making a noticeable effort to dull down the soldier’s swagger he normally walks with, holding your gaze with what you surmise is his best attempt to look open and mild-tempered. You notice how he pointedly avoids looking at your body, how it’s silhouetted by the candlelight and showing itself as a dark, shapely shadow in the white fabric of your gown. He’s close enough to touch now, toes only inches from yours. You’re reminded of how close you stood during the ceremony, how he had sworn to give his life for you, to you. Ānogar ānograro.

“They’re waiting,” you say quietly, eyes darting to the four servants in each corner of the room. Bakugou follows your gaze, and his frown grows deeper.

“May I speak freely?” It’s a laughable question coming from him, but it’s a kindhearted gesture, so you bite into your lip and nod your acquiesce.

“You’re my husband,” you say, trying not to feel discouraged at the pink tinge that rises to his cheeks, “I always want you to speak freely.”

Through a stiff nod of understanding, Bakugou lets a deep breath exhale through his nose before pinning you in place with a scrutinizing gaze. “Have you been…kissed, before?”

“Of course I have, Bakugou.” You can’t hide the breathless chuckle that comes fluttering from your lips, the dangerous hint of a relieved smile that begins to carve into your cheeks.

“Katsuki,” he says, the corner of his own mouth curling when his simple request for familiarity wipes the glimmer of smugness straight away from your face. “Your husband, remember?”

“Katsuki,” you repeat, letting the letters make a home for themselves on your tongue. Something flashes in his eyes, and he clears his throat. You can’t make out the shape of what’s flickered across his face, but you can feel the heat thrumming from his eyes to yours.

“What else?”

“What do you mean?” Your nose wrinkles in confusion, entirely lost on what point he’s trying to make. Katsuki narrows his eyes, clears his throat uncomfortably.

“What else do you have…experience with?”

Oh. He wants to know if you’ve been touched, where you’ve been touched, possibly even by whom. It’s your turn to shuffle your bare feet on the cold stone floor, to look solidly ahead at the v in the collar of his loose tunic, the slope of his neck, anywhere but his eyes. Your stomach begins to roil at the implication of this, of baring yourself to him wholly. It won’t be the first time you do it tonight, and certainly not the last.

“I’ve– um, done most things.” You somehow summon the courage to meet his gaze again, staring up defiantly. “I hope that’s not a disappointment to you.”

“You had no obligation to me before today.” Katsuki shakes his head, as if to dispel the very notion that you even have something to refuse to apologize for. It brings a spark of warmth to your heart, a hum of satisfaction pulsing through you that you’d chosen your husband well, at least in this regard. “But you are a virgin?”

You can’t control the way your eyes go wide, blinking hurriedly at him when he asks the question. Your fingertips grow hot, and you aren’t sure which potential answer would be the least mortifying, so you opt to stick with the truth.

“Yes,” you say, so lowly it’s near a whisper, “I’m a virgin.”

Katsuki swears quietly in the Old Tongue, and though you’re more focused on your feet than his face, you can see the awkward repositioning of his feet, how his hands clench and unclench at your confession. He’s your husband, you scold yourself, you have no need for fear. You jerk your head up to look unflinchingly at his face, unapologetic in your stance. Despite the way he had voiced his indifference to your prior experiences, you can see some strange mixture of relief, nerves, and that same undefinable heat rising to his face, coloring his features and darkening his eyes.

His eyes run over your consummation gown, long, loose, and traditional as they come, lovingly hand-stitched by your longest serving lady-in-waiting. Your handmaidens had taken the liberty of freshening you up after the feast, scrubbing most of the heavy, ash-black ceremony makeup from the bridge of your nose, wiping the kohl from your eyes until you were bare. Your elaborate wedding hairstyle had been let down and reworked into a long, singular braid down your back, loosely secured by a knot of cowhide. That, amongst other things, is for him, and only him.

“After this,” Katsuki wets his lips with his tongue, “we won’t share a bed again–”

“Katsuki–”

“Not until you’re ready,” he amends. His fingers twitch by his sides, a boyish gesture for a man of his massive stature.

“I’m your wife,” you say, puzzled and looking up at him, “I may be a virgin now, but I’m no stranger to what that entails.”

A heavy breath shakes through Katsuki’s frame, and his brows knit together in an expression of comfortingly familiar exasperation. You almost want to smile back at him.

“I expected as much,” he says, one hand reaching forward ever so slowly to brush tentatively through your fingers dangling at your side, to pinch at the thin fabric of your gown and rub it between his fingers, “but that’s a matter for the morning.”

You catch the implication in his tone, in the way he’s holding the sheet separating you from him. There’s something to be taken care of. Your palms turn clammy, fingers beginning to tremble by your sides. It takes everything in you to set your jaw and look up at him, shoulders rolled back and expression carefully schooled into something that you can only pray approaches a warm neutrality.

“Would you like to take it off?” Your eyes flit from your gown to his face.

Katsuki considers you, dragging his eyes over your frame at an agonizingly slow rate, still maddeningly rubbing that fabric between his fingers. Suddenly, his face crumples into a scowl.

“You’re shaking,” he says matter-of-factly. Your cheeks warm, wishing he wouldn’t have brought it up. “Are you nervous?”

“Not of you,” you answer him truthfully, willing the tension in your spine to melt into pleasurable anticipation. Katsuki catches your meaning instantly, the concern in his eyes glittering into something more akin to the anger that settles so comfortably into the frown lines on his face, that strikes his sharp features so suddenly and beautifully you almost gasp.

“Turn around,” he barks suddenly, his posture straightening into that of the formidable general you’ve known him as all your life, not the surprisingly gentle husband he’s shown himself to be in the last few minutes. You start in his arms, beginning to spin on your heels to follow his command when his hands catch you by the shoulders, an apology writing its way into the fine features of his face.

“But you said–”

“Them.” Katsuki jerks his head towards the servants posted in each corner who are, miraculously, turned away from the two of you, heads down and poised towards the corner. You look up to Katsuki in amazement, and his eyes soften. “I wouldn’t speak to you that way.”

“Oh.” It’s light and not enough when it falls from your mouth, and you want to apologize, but Katsuki’s already loosening his grip on your shoulders, urging you to spin.

“Now you,” he says gently, “turn around.”

Too stunned by the duality of him to argue, the whetted and wartorn angles of him contrasting with this unbearable softness, you turn your back to him, urging yourself to relax under the weight of his hands. Katsuki’s hands subtly squeeze your shoulders, as if to warn you of their departure, and the next time you feel his touch, it’s on the end of your long braid, his scarred fingers fumbling with the cowhide tie.

You hold your breath as you feel the tension along your scalp go slack; he’s gotten the tie off of your braid. Katsuki’s fingers begin to methodically comb through your long hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, deftly avoiding knots and keeping the lightly-oiled strands from tangling themselves as he undoes your braid. He’s surprisingly good at it, and an unexpected pang of pain accompanies your curious thought as to whether he’s had much practice undoing a woman’s hair, something so sacred. Before you can ruminate on the hurt beginning to come to a simmer in your chest, Katsuki’s spinning you back around, causing the calming perfume of your hair oil to cloud around your head as your hair fans out. It centers you, gives you the wherewithal to look up into his eyes.

Katsuki’s face is candid, beautifully so, in the way he regards you. Crimson eyes dart over every feature you have to offer him, now so wild and unbidden compared to your usual state of being, and he reaches a tentative hand towards your hair, before flinching and pulling back. You shake your head, bringing a hand out to catch his and pull it back towards the part of you he so clearly wants to touch before you can think better of it. Katsuki’s eyes widen, only momentarily, before his face settles into an expression of quiet approval, and he runs his fingers through your hair again, less purposeful this time and more for the simple pleasure of memorizing the feel of you under his hands. You blink up at him, waiting.

“Gevie,” he mumbles under his breath, watching how his fingers card through your unruly hair. He mistakenly brushes your nipple, still peaked under your consummation gown, and realizes what he’s done when you gasp lightly. 

“It’s okay,” you say hurriedly, surprising yourself when you realize that you mean it. Your back has already begun to arch unwittingly towards him, as if your body has accepted him as your husband while your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the idea. “Touch me.”

You can see the thought cross Katsuki’s face before he even reaches for your gown, pinching it at the hips on either side of you.

“Do you want to take it off, or would you like me to?” Katsuki says, hardly louder than a whisper. You blink, still trying to marry this man with the outspoken, ruthless general you’d invited to the altar with you.

“Traditionally, the man–”

“I know,” Katsuki says, a bit of an agonized bite behind his words. You bite your lip, worried that you’ve finally overstepped, but he sighs, heavy and surrendered. “I know what happens traditionally. I don’t care. We’re doing this on your terms.”

“My terms,” you repeat slowly, trying to gather his meaning.

“Yes,” Katsuki affirms, “your terms. Now, do you want to take your gown off, or do you want me to?”

You want to run to the washroom to realign your expectations, is what you want to do. This is supposed to be quick, you remember your handmaidens preparing you with monstrous stories of being unceremoniously bent over the bed, gown ripped to shreds or simply shoved above your hips instead of carefully pulled between a considerate thumb and finger. You study him, study that freshly sincere affection on his face, his willingness to bring you through this unscathed and…dare you say it, satisfied. Your hand, which, so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed drifting, comes up to cup his sharp jaw, plush palm giving against the angle of his face.

“I want you to,” you say, nodding when his eyebrows raise in surprise. “I want you to take it off of me, please.”

Katsuki only answers you with a curt nod of his own, schooling his momentarily bewildered expression back into one of careful concentration, more for your benefit than his, you think. You can feel a slight tremor in his hands when he brings them to the strings that suffice for your gown’s sleeves, little more than strips of fabric tied in loose bows over your shoulder. Despite the painstakingly beautiful embroidery in the stiff linen, curling flames and stars rising from the hem of your gown, everything else about the design of the garment reveals its purpose: to be removed.

You hold your breath while he works at the tied strings, partly because you feel like you should and partly because the slightest brush of his fingers over your skin feels so climactic that you feel that it should make a sound, maybe that of pottery breaking or lightning clapping across a dark sky. It’s silent, the slip of the linen through itself, three cautious pulls and your gown is sagging on one side, the collar falling until your nipple is almost exposed. You gulp and try to look up to Katsuki, but his jaw is set, even grinding a bit in concentration as he keeps his gaze centered firmly on the bow he’s set upon on your right shoulder. You study him, looking for any indication that he’s anxious, or pleased, or disinterested, but he’s an unreadable mask of focus as his large fingers tug on the bow. It slides loose as easily as the first one had, and your gown slips from your body and crumples around your feet on the floor.

Katsuki sucks in a sharp inhale, forced to take in the sight of your naked body now that he’s finished his task. You watch intently as his eyes drag over every part of you, slow and savory, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. You’re so exhilarated by his wild eyes taking you in, you almost forget to be insecure, to be nervous. This is something you might grow to enjoy, you think; Katsuki’s carefully concealed appetite.

“Am I alright?” You feel your mouth form the words, hear them float into the charged air. You don’t think you meant to ask, but once it’s out, you’re glad you did. It may be a politically-made marriage bed, but as fate would have it, your crown sits upon the head of a young woman, a young woman looking into the eyes of the man that would have her for his own, wanting to be thought of as a thing to be admired. Katsuki’s eyes flicker back to yours, and his brows knit together.

“Alright?” Katsuki’s eyes leave yours once more, and he meets his own gaze with a bold hand on your hip, thumb rubbing circles over your hipbone. “You’re more than alright, but you already know that.”

You feel so small, so silly when you tell him: “I was hoping you’d be the one to remind me.”

Katsuki understands then, meets your fixed look upon his face and lets that molten desire cool into something more digestible, easier to hold, and then he speaks. “Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

When you’d learned the Old Tongue as a child, you’d been taught to purr the sounds, to run them together like the slow, controlled flow of ink from the end of a feather. You learned to curl the consonants behind your teeth and let them breathe the same air for a beat, to birth the sounds into the world off of your tongue instead of simply pushing the air out. But when Katsuki speaks the Old Tongue it’s…a growl, forceful and quaking with restrained power. Raw and godlike, the words sound like they were written with his low rasp in mind.

Wife. His beautiful wife. Your breath hitches in your throat at the same time as a vicious swell of desire rips through you, mouth beginning to hang ajar. Katsuki frowns slightly, tilts his head.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Take me, then,” you say, breathless from your own courage. Katsuki’s eyes widen, and if you could see clearly through your own sudden lust, you’d see the corner of his mouth twitching. “Make me your wife.”

“I will,” Katsuki comes closer, speaking not smugly, but matter-of-factly. He slides one hand around your waist, thumbs at your chin with the other. “But there’s an order to these things.”

No sooner have you opened your mouth to protest Katsuki’s condescension than he’s closing the wide gap between his height and your plush, open lips, pressing his mouth to yours, and your mind goes quiet. You’ve been kissed upwards of a dozen times at this point, something you were proud to remind your ladies-in-waiting of this morning while they giggled and squealed about your big night with the general. A few princes, a handful of noblemen’s sons, the expected suspects. All your ladies had said in return was “Those are boys. The general is a man. You’ll see the difference.”

There’s nothing demanding or unkind in the way his fingers are pressing into the plush curve of your hip, but it’s firm, steady in a way you’ve never dreamed about being held. His hand spreads across your jawline, keeping you tilted up and open for him to move his mouth against. There’s none of the hurried pecking, no errant tongue forcing its way between your teeth before you can even offer– Katsuki’s a man. You understand now, understand your handmaidens’ flushed cheeks and the way they fanned themselves theorizing about whether your new husband was as ruthless in bed as he was on the battlefield. Katsuki makes a fire catch behind your ribs, a desperate urge to impress, to keep your now horrifyingly-apparent lack of experience under wraps.

You bring a hand to the back of his neck, willing yourself not to tremble, and card your fingers through the close-cropped hair, smiling when Katsuki’s lips stutter against your own. His grip on you tightens, one big hand slipping to the nape of your neck and pulling you flush against him. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting like ceremonial wine and something mannish and mature; you’re hardly able to swallow the gasp that threatens to reveal how the pit of your stomach is beginning to curl in on itself. Your breasts are pressed tight against his chest, only separated from his skin by his linen tunic. The fabric kisses your sensitive nipples, brushing against the untouched skin, and despite yourself, you whimper pathetically into his waiting mouth, cheeks warming.

Katsuki pulls back, to your disappointment, and you begin to chew at your lip, frantically thinking through the last several minutes to wonder what you’ve done wrong. Had you been too forward, touching him back so quickly? Your fretting dies down quickly when you see that Katsuki’s only stepped back to finger the hem of his tunic, ripping it over his head. You only have a moment to catch a blurry flash of honed muscle and scarred skin before he’s back on you, calloused hands wrapping around your hips. It only takes a few moments of him kissing you, of your fingers dragging absentmindedly up his veiny forearm, before you ask him for what you want, palms pressed flat against his chest and pushing lightly.

His brows knit together, and his eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. You take a deep inhale, hoping to hide how rapidly you’ve lost your breath to him, steeling yourself to look him in the eye.

“I want to see you.”

Katsuki’s face screws up almost comically, and he tilts his head.

“See me?”

“See you.”

You take a step back, keeping your hands on his arms, holding him just where you want him and– is it a sight. He’s sharper than you would have imagined, deep grooves carving into his skin where his muscles bulge beneath it. You suck in a sharp breath as you let your eyes move slowly from his hardened stomach to his broad chest, little nicks dotting his skin where a stray swordtip had punctured armor, and a particularly nasty gash cutting across his front, stretching from his shoulder to his ribcage. It looks like it should have been fatal. Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest, maybe in an attempt to stop you from ogling him like you are, but it’s counterproductive; all he’s done is give you a golden opportunity to watch the skin of his arms stretch to accommodate the way his biceps swell and shrink with the movement, the twitching and flexing of each individual muscle laid bare for you to see clearly.

When your gaze finally returns to his face, you almost want to snort at his expression: pink cheeks, a scrunched nose, and eyebrows lifted to indicate just how entirely unimpressed he is with your drooling.

“Done ‘seeing’ me?” Katsuki asks, mouth lifting in just the smallest hint at a smile. Your heart flutters lightly in your chest; it’s the first attempt either of you have made at humor since your betrothal, and it’s hugely relieving to have something to smile about.

“It was only fair that I take my turn,” you say, gesturing down at your bare skin. Katsuki’s lips lift a little more until his gaze lowers; his eyes darken as he lets himself take you in. You can see the same thought crossing his mind just as it occurs to you: you belong to each other now, every bit of skin, muscle, heart that you’re bearing to each other isn’t just your own anymore. That scrunch in his nose, the scar across his chest, the way he narrows his eyes to study you. It all belongs to you now.

Katsuki steps forward, letting his hand interlace with yours, fingers hanging in the spaces between your own.

“Are you ready?” His question is no more than a puff of air against your forehead, both of you mercifully standing so close that you aren’t forced to look in his eyes when he asks.

“Yes.” Your voice shakes despite your attempt to be resolute in your answer, and you tighten your fingers around his in apology. It’s all new.

Katsuki kisses you again, slower and warmer than last time. It’s not desperate or hurried, but it is sensual, a promise of what awaits you when he lays you down on your bed. You sigh into his mouth, growing comfortable now with the feel of him on you; so comfortable, even, that you don’t notice he’s been backing you up until your back hits the poster of the bed, effectively pinning you between the hard, ebony wood, and Katsuki’s strong chest.

Your confinement does something to him. It’s immeasurably minute, the way his breath seems to puff out a bit heavier, the sudden jerk of his fingers into your hips, but it’s there.

“When you said you had experience…” Katsuki says, voice gravelly and dangerously close to a pant, “what did you mean by that?”

“I–” you pause, swallowing thickly around the growing lump in your throat, “I’ve been kissed, and I’ve…been touched.” You settle on that, hoping he grasps what you’re suddenly too shy to say.

“Did he make you cum?” He asks it so quietly, you almost wonder if you’ve heard him correctly, but you do hear him, and your chest caves in on itself as the breath leaves your lungs. You’ve snickered over such things with trusted girl friends, your ladies in waiting, but to hear it so gruffly, from the lips of a man—your new husband, no less—is a shock to your system.

“I think so,” you murmur, hardly able to form the words. You can’t see him, his head hunched over your shoulder and his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, but you can practically feel him frown.

“If he had, you would know so.” Katsuki presses a soft kiss on the cartilage of your ear, travels down to bring your earlobe between his lips. He moves farther down, kissing gently down the slope of your neck, so slowly as if not to scare you.

“How would I know?” You can’t believe you’ve even dared to ask the question, not entirely sure you’ve prepared yourself well enough to hear his answer. Katsuki sucks in a sharp breath against your collarbone, pausing his ministrations where he’d begun to lick and suckle at the prominent angle of it. Your face warms as you realize how deeply his faint touches have begun to affect you, how your chest is beginning to swell and sink with heavy breaths, how your skin tingles and sparks in anticipation of the next absentminded swipe of his knuckles, of the light pressure of his mouth.

“I can show you,” he whispers, and the world stops turning for a moment, “if you’d like.”

“Yes,” you breathe out before you can think better of yourself. You trust his hands, the steady way that they graze the curve of your hip and splay out against the small of your back. He’s stable and unwavering, keeping you afloat.

Katsuki nods against your shoulder, almost imperceptibly, and brings one of those strong hands up between your shoulderblades. He spreads his fingers out, forcing your back to arch for him, and brings his free hand up to your chest, pausing when he’s only a hair’s breadth from your breast. His eyes meet yours, a concentrated divot appearing between his eyebrows as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. You arch into his touch, surprising even yourself with your boldness, and your jaw drops a bit at the sensation of his rough palms on your soft, supple breast.

Your eagerness spurs him to action, and he bends at the waist, scattering a litter of kisses across the top of your chest. You hold your breath as he dips lower, but your attempt to remain silent fails entirely when he closes his lips around your peaked nipple. A horribly broken whimper slips from your lips, and you squirm, though whether your body’s trying to push you into or away from the wet heat of his mouth you can’t tell.

Katsuki’s mouth stretches into a ghost of a smile around your flesh, or so you think, until his teeth graze your nipple properly and a quiet cry bursts from you. He smiles fully with your breast still between his teeth. His hand holds your back firmly in its bowed position as he moves to your other breast, twisting his tongue around your nipple there and kissing gently along the fat curve of the underside. He continues his descent, grazing his lips over your stomach, and you don’t realize he’s on his knees until he’s suckling softly on your hipbone, one hand now sprawled over your stomach. Katsuki rubs his thumb over the top of the thatch of hair between your legs, almost reverently, and it makes you regain your bearings, gulping.

“W-what are you doing?” You nearly cringe at the sound of your own voice, words syrupy and thick on your tongue.

Katsuki raises a cautious eyebrow, pulling back from the slight bruise he’s begun to place upon your hipbone. He’s still moving carefully, ghosting over where he wants to touch you as a warning before pressing his skin fully to yours, unwilling to spook you just yet, but something’s quickly changing in him. His jaw ticks as he considers you, looking down on where he kneels between your legs with wide eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Katsuki asks back, looking genuinely confused. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You’re on your knees.” It sounds too simple as it leaves your mouth, an insult to your own intelligence, and you scowl in frustration, looking off to the side. The quiet chuckle between your legs snaps your attention back to Katsuki.

“I’m on my knees,” Katsuki agrees, leaning in and brushing his lips against your inner thigh, sending a full-body shudder racking through you, “for you. Do you…not like it?”

Your mind, foggy in the places you’re accustomed to using and glaringly sharp in useless departments like, for example, the way Katsuki’s eyes are glinting dangerously in the low light, struggles to find an answer for his question. You do like it, seeing this hulking, powerful man kneeling before you, tucking his chin up to the supple flesh of your thigh and blinking up at you curiously, but not for any reason that you can put your finger on.

“I didn’t say that,” you say carefully, willing your senses to come back to you. “I just…you look like you’re planning something.”

Another cutting half-smirk flashes across his face, gone as soon as it appears. “You’ve never been tasted before, have you?”

“Tasted?” You try to keep your face from showing your shock and confusion; surely he’s not about to do what you think he is. Katsuki hums an affirmative, placing another kiss to the clammy crease of your thigh and your cunt, a gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it.

“Do you not want me to?” Katsuki tilts his head, expressionless. You try to find the answer to his question on his face, but he’s blank, leaving the decision entirely up to you. “It’ll help with the pain.”

The pain, that’s right. Soon, he would be taking you for his own, stretching your body in a new way that you’d heard the whispers about: bloody bedsheets, sore between the legs, pleading for the end. You chew into your bottom lip, considering your options.

“Do you want to?”

“I do,” Katsuki says, eyes dark and unreadable, “I want to make you feel good. But we’re doing this on–”

“My terms,” you finish for him, nodding, “I remember.”

“Good.” Katsuki nods, and you try desperately to ignore the heat that thrums through you. “So, if you don’t want it, I won’t. Simple as that.”

You think for a brief moment. Katsuki’s admitted to wanting something of you, of your body, perhaps for the first time since you’d gotten him wrapped up with you. You repeat his words over and over in your head, trying to make sense of them. I want to make you feel good.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Katsuki knits his brows.

“I want to try it,” you say, and add with a shaky exhale, “being tasted.”

If you’re not mistaken, Katsuki’s shoulders shiver between your legs, his eyes glazing over a little at your words. You feel pride ringing in your chest, seeing him uncoil, even if it’s only the slightest bit. You’d chosen correctly. Much as he did when you asked him to undress you, Katsuki nods tensely, and he moves deeper between your legs, nudging your knees apart for himself.

“It’ll feel good,” he murmurs quietly, picking up one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder, “but if you want me to stop, tell me, alright?”

You nod down at him, knowing that every bit of your nerves at being so exposed is showing all over your face. Katsuki flits his gaze down to your cunt, glistening in the candlelight and humiliatingly wet from his touch, and you can see him bite into the inside of his cheek, see his eyes flutter closed. Despite your embarrassment, you’re keen on watching, learning from him. Katsuki leans in, and his tongue slides between your wet folds, but even over your choked noise of surprise, one thing rings clear in your mind at the startling new sensation.

Katsuki groans, louder than you’ve ever heard, languid and gratified, face pressed so firmly into your center that you can already feel his shadow of stubble scratching the insides of your thighs. His hand, wrapped around the thigh over his shoulder, suddenly tightens, fingers digging into the meat of your leg much harder than he’s touched you yet. You focus on the muscles of his jaw, tensing and straining on the side of his face, while he licks into you like a man starved.

The way he eats you is such a deviation from his feather-light touches that you almost can’t believe it’s the same man, lewd noises echoing throughout the room as he suckles on something between your legs that you hadn’t even discovered properly for yourself, only swiping at it blindly in the darkest hours in your chambers. Your back curves viciously, breathy moans spilling from your lips, fingernails clawing into the ornately-carved posts of your marriage bed. Katsuki holds you tight against him, eyes hooded in bliss and mouth moving ceaselessly against you.

You’ve snuck a hand down between your legs before, rubbed shyly at the growing wetness, at the swollen skin, and experienced maybe a glimmer of the feeling that’s now glowing hot in the pit of your stomach. You would almost feel panicked at the spiraling, swooping sensation; that is, if you weren’t so wholly consumed by the white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Katsuki– I, it’s so– oh,” you trail off, losing your words as Katsuki establishes a rhythm of flicking his tongue between your legs right on that damned spot that you wish you’d known about before, maybe you could have prepared– “Oh, Katsuki, it’s– so good.”

Katsuki elicits a sound that’s closer to a snarl than anything else you can think of, tightening his iron grip into your skin. One of your hands absentmindedly fists in his hair, and before you can find the presence of mind to rip it away, he moans, openly and unashamedly, eyes screwing shut. He likes it, your foggy mind realizes, and you dig your fingers in harder, anchoring what’s left of you to the earth using the straight, sandy locks.

The heat, the sparks that are flying around every nerve ending in your body, begins to pick up an overwhelming speed, and all of the sudden, you feel like you need to kick out, to curl in on yourself, to scream so loud the windows blow out.

“Katsuki,” you say desperately, making watery, scared eyes at him. Katsuki’s brow furrows, and he only holds his pace, red eyes glaring into yours. You’re trying to warn him, but no words will form, and you can’t catch your breath, panting and clawing at his hair and almost sobbing until–

Everything peaks. A broken cry comes shooting out of your throat, your standing leg threatening to give out under you, and you writhe and twitch on Katsuki’s face, shamelessly surrendering to the most intense tidal wave of pleasure you’ve experienced in your life. From the fuzzy peripherals of your consciousness, you can hear Katsuki groaning encouragingly into your wet cunt, still dutifully moving his tongue against you and smearing the evidence of your arousal all over his cheeks. When the world comes back into focus, it’s dazzlingly harsh, your muscles weakening as soon as Katsuki’s face clears into its typical arrangement of sharp angles and hard lines.

“Oh–” you gasp, your one good knee finally buckling underneath you. Luckily, Katsuki has already begun to stand, and one of his strong arms darts out, catching you around the waist. You wish he wouldn’t look so smug.

“How do you feel?” Katsuki asks innocently enough, but even in the aftermath of that,  you don’t miss the twitching at the corner of his shining mouth, the expectant arch of his eyebrow.

“Good,” you pant, willing your cheeks to lose even a portion of their heat, “it was– fine.”

“Fine?” Katsuki’s eyebrow raises fully, disbelievingly.

“It was good,” you reaffirm, glaring at him. Katsuki grins brightly, the most light you think you’ve ever seen enter his face. It makes you blush almost as hard as the orgasm he dragged you through. Something wild and wicked flickers in your mind, and you look up at him curiously. “Do you…do you want me to do that to you?”

Katsuki’s smile drops as quickly as it came, and his cheekbones darken, a deep flush spreading over his face. You almost wonder if you’ve misstepped, upset him in some way, until you catch him palming over his pants. Your throat tightens.

“No,” he says, all the mirth drained from his face, “no, you don’t have to– no.”

“Alright,” you acquiesce, transferring your weight from Katsuki’s firm grip around your waist back to your feet, finding your legs weak and shaky beneath you. Your gaze floats over your shoulder, back to the plush sheets of your marriage bed, and Katsuki clears his throat, backing away a step so you have the room to climb into the bed, lay yourself down.

You’d expected to feel shyer, but there’s surprisingly no urge to curl in on yourself, not even Katsuki’s eyes take you in, darkening in the candlelight. The aftershocks of pleasure— white-hot, addictive pleasure he’d introduced you to— are still echoing through your limbs, and you’re just curious enough to bite back your initial trepidation. You want to know what else he has to teach you.

Katsuki begins tugging at the laces keeping his pants snug around his waist, loosening them and shooting you one final look, one last assurance. His eyebrow is cocked questioningly, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he looks a little nervous. You nod, holding a breath deep enough in your lungs that it aches, and his pants hit the floor.

You’ve seen naked men, here and there, over the course of your life, and your ladies had described enough of the act before you that you can’t find yourself shocked at the sight, but more so at the wanton aching that ricochets through your limbs, chill bumps erupting over your arms and shoulders rolling of their own accord. You don’t have much to go by, but you’re fairly sure he’s big comparatively, so hard that the tip is an angry shade of red. Katsuki climbs over you before you have much chance to look further, but the damage is done; a fresh wave of arousal courses through you, and you widen your knees to let him situate himself.

“I’m going to get you ready,” Katsuki says between chaste kisses to your lips. “Is that alright?”

“But you already–,” you feel frustrated at your own inexperience, knitting your brow at him, “I’m ready.”

“You’re not,” Katsuki assures you, and before you can bite back another retort, his battle-scarred fingers are rubbing softly through the mess between your legs, and your jaw falls slack. Katsuki’s monitoring you for any signs of unease, eyes bright and focused on your face. You’re wet enough that he’s sliding through your folds easily, meeting little resistance as he rubs tight, concentrated circles into that spot that he’d used to make you see stars earlier. “Do you trust me?”

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage to hum an affirmative, biting back the breathy noises trying to break free of your throat. It’s a wonder, how so little effort from him has your blood molten in your veins, limbs pliant and muscles twitching.

Katsuki’s fierce gaze doesn’t let up, but you understand why when you feel it: a finger, presumably, stretching you in a new, uncomfortable way. You’re unable to contain the gasp that bleats out of you, eyes flying wide, and Katsuki’s hand stills, eyes squinting as he tries to determine the nuances of your reaction. It’s novel, and admittedly, makes you a bit restless, but it isn’t unpleasant, and embarrassingly, your hips cant up into his hand, answering for you. Katsuki works slowly, never ceasing the small circles he’s rubbing into you, letting the discomfort align with the deliberate, savory pleasure that’s now ever-present in your core. When he begins to move his finger in and out of you, working you open, you realize it feels good, more than good, even.

“Alright?” Katsuki asks, distrusting of the whimpers and shaky moans beginning to fall from your lips. “Talk to me.”

“It’s strange,” you admit, words fragile and breathy in the space between your lips, “but I like it, it feels good. Really good.”

Katsuki hums approvingly, teases your entrance with the rough pad of a second finger. He arches his eyebrow at you, the question hanging silent, but clear between you. The prospect is daunting, but you welcome it; he’s already shown you so much, made you feel so much. You trust him, nodding eagerly.

“Please.”

Katsuki works his second finger in, grinding his jaw when you choke on a moan, rolling your hips into his palm. He nods, letting you wriggle your hips around as you need to, to ease the stretch of him inside of you. You can feel the power behind the lightness of his touch, eyes flitting down to the strained, corded muscle of his forearm as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He’s holding back, and when you think wildly of what might happen the day he doesn’t have to anymore, your body clenches around him.

Katsuki pulls a face at you, amused. “What is it?”

“What?” You pant, feeling that knot begin to tie in on itself tighter and tighter behind your bellybutton.

“Y’liked something, thought of something,” Katsuki studies you, mouth quirking up into a little half-smile, “I could feel it.”

If you were any more present, you’d be mortified, but all you can do is reach a hand to stroke along the bulge of his bicep, dig your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Was thinking about you,” you admit shyly, trying to force your words to come out a little less broken than you know you sound, “you’re strong.”

“I am strong,” Katsuki agrees, curling his fingers against something inside of you that makes you jerk, makes him smirk at you.

“You’re holding back on me.”

“I am,” he says, placing a kiss to your shoulder, “you’re not ready for it. Need to go slow this time.”

“One day you won’t,” you say, mustering all the strength your hazy mind has to offer to look him squarely in the eye, watch his reaction. Katsuki inhales sharply, eyes widening at your boldness, only to narrow at you, predatory and curious. His fingers have stilled momentarily, and you pull your stomach muscles, jerking your hips up against his hand, frustrated. Katsuki only glares down at you, jaw ticking.

“One day I won’t,” he finally answers you, pulling his fingers from where you’re throbbing and needy. You almost whine, but bite into your lip before the admission of desperation flies from you. “If that’s what you want.”

You don’t have the chance to answer before Katsuki’s sucking his own fingers into his mouth, sucking you off of them. Your jaw stutters, and you gape at him as his eyelids flutter, a low groan rumbling in his strong chest.

“Taste good,” Katsuki says, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, “sweet.”

“Can I try?” The question flies from your lips before you can even think to contain it, and your eyes grow even larger, shocked at your own debauchery. You’re seconds away from stuttering out an apology when Katsuki’s massive hand appears in front of your face, fingers glistening in the candlelight.

“Here.” Katsuki offers his fingers to you, eyes dark and hungry. You only stare at him for a moment, trying to discern if you’ve done something horribly wrong, but he’s completely sincere, brushing his wet fingers along your bottom lip. You open your mouth, suck him in. It’s more viscous than you would have imagined, sticky and thick on your tongue, but it’s pleasantly gamey; a little bitter, a little sweet. You don’t realize that you’re suckling on Katsuki’s fingers until he groans again, deep in his throat, gritting his teeth.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, pulling his hand free from your lips.

“What’d you think?” Katsuki regains his composure quickly, tilting his head at you with something impish sparkling in his eye.

You’d chosen your new husband due to his unwavering dedication to the kingdom that he’d sworn his life to protect, his kingly attributes that had set him so far apart from your other, softer suitors. You hadn’t even thought to consider what other sides to him might be lurking beneath the formidable exterior of decorated general; could it be so that the red-cheeked, boyish creature above you, so intent on helping you explore your body, was the fierce warrior that had supposedly cut down over a hundred enemy soldiers entirely on his own?

“I liked it,” you say, biting into the smile starting to grow on your face. The way his eyes light up makes you feel like a vixen, like somehow, you can be a woman after all. “Everything is…it feels good.”

Something virile glints in Katsuki’s eyes, but you don’t shy away, holding his gaze. “Good.”

“I want to…I want you to have me. I want to have you.” You’re not even sure if you’re making sense, tongue heavy and useless in your mouth. Katsuki’s hand has wandered back down between your legs, rubbing lazily at the wetness there, and it’s got that steady heat creeping back through your limbs, setting your nerves on fire.

“You’re sure?” Katsuki asks, raising his eyebrow at you. All the mischief has drained from his face as he examines you, and while you appreciate his caution, the craving for something more is growing uncomfortable.

“Please,” you say, tilting your chin up to press your lips gently to his in reassurance. Katsuki is finally convinced, it seems, because he rolls off of you and settles his back against the headboard, reaching an errant arm over to tug you on top of him.

You hadn’t anticipated this; Katsuki’s set you right on top of his hips, your dripping cunt placed firmly against his hard cock, back ramrod straight from the sudden exposure, nipples peaked in the charged air. The feel of him pressing insistently against where your body needs him most makes your head spin; you hadn’t expected it to be so distinct, hard and thick beneath you.

“What are you–”

“It’ll be easier this way,” Katsuki says, looking very much like he’s putting all his effort into appearing unaffected, but only a moment ago, you felt his hips twitch upwards into yours, “you can control it.”

“I don’t– I don’t know how to do it. Not the right way, I mean.” You’re burning in your humiliation, hot in so many different ways now you aren’t sure if you could even count them, but you’re bared completely to him, and you figure your dignity was left somewhere crumpled on the floor with your consummation gown.

“Don’t worry about that,” Katsuki says sternly, looking so unbelievably flustered that if you were any less preoccupied, it would make you giggle, “not yet. You need to get used to having something inside you, first.”

Something inside you; him, thick and hard and drooling wetness onto his bellybutton. That’s right. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, doing everything in your power to ride the wave of exhilaration going through you. You roll your hips experimentally, once, twice, swallowing the gasp that aches to leave your jaw.

“Just like that,” Katsuki mumbles, so quietly you almost think you hadn’t heard him, “take your time.”

You take his advice, bracing your clammy hands on his neck. You grind down on him again, feeling sparks of pleasure shoot up your body. With each swipe of your hips, you can feel your cunt grow wetter, feel that bottomless want in your stomach open a little more. The growing hunger in you is primordial, some hidden part of your mind directing you. The urge to have something inside of you, to feel full in a way you can’t begin to imagine, is causing you to grow restless, fingers drumming anxiously on Katsuki’s shoulders. When you meet his eyes, a muscle feathers in his jaw, but he stays silent, hands placed gently on your hips as he watches you grow accustomed to his girth, the weight of him between your legs.

“I think I’m ready. Can I?”

Katsuki stays silent, only nods sagely in assent. His grip on your hips grows tighter as you lift yourself up, reaching down blindly to grip him. He sucks in a breath when your fingers wrap around the length of him, and your eyes flit to his in alarm, but he only shakes his head, brow furrowing.

“Go ahead.”

You nod back, wincing at the anticipatory trembling of your thighs on either side of his hips, pulling his cock up from his stomach. You rather like the smooth feel of the skin in your hands, and you think briefly that maybe this will be something to revisit later, having him needy and in the palm of your hand. The swollen head catches, and you almost gasp at the surprise of it, how a dull thud of satisfaction rings through your body. You inhale deeply, and begin to sink down.

Katsuki’s fingers dig into your hips even harder, but you hardly feel it over the incomparable stretch between your legs. You’re sure now that he’s big; he has to be, the way it feels like your very insides are moving to accommodate him. You’re trying not to huff at the feeling, but a whine escapes you, and Katsuki’s tight grip stops you just as you’re nearing the halfway point.

“Okay?” He’s tense, coiled like a snake, all the muscles in his strong body locked, but his eyes are concerned.

“Uh huh,” you manage, wiggling your hips around and dropping yourself down a couple more inches, making you both gasp, “s’just big.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, throwing his head back. You pause, body contracting around him in your attempt to take him wholly, only a short distance from the blonde hair at the base of his cock.

“Is everything alright?”

“Can’t say shit like that,” Katsuki grits out, voice hoarse. You realize with a slow, muggy blink that you haven’t yet heard him swear, not in the Common Tongue, haven’t yet seen him become so unraveled and yet, at the same time, so rigid. It’s affecting him, that instinctual part of your brain supplies, it feels good for him.

If you were any less dazed, you’d smile. Katsuki Bakugou, High Commander of the fiercest army the world has seen in over a century, famed warrior an ocean over, is practically twitching trying to bite back his own pleasure as you take him inside of you. The rush of adrenaline that thought sends through you gives you the motivation to let yourself go, nestling the entirety of him deep inside yourself and meeting his hips. You choke on a moan, eyes prickling with tears.

“Oh,” you pant, lifting yourself just a bit, trying to squirm away from the discomfort.

“Does it hurt?” Katsuki grunts, eyes running over every bit of your body.

“No, it’s just,” you keen again, interrupting yourself with breathy, whiny little noises, “full.”

Katuski makes a noise that you think was meant to be a hum of agreement, but only comes out as a growl. If the white in his knuckles and the sharp, tense bone of his jaw is anything to go by, his arousal is only barely being held back, restricted to a tight leash. You’re not his first, not the only wet warmth he’s buried himself in, and this isn’t at all the first time he’s experienced this white-hot, carnal pleasure that’s licking up your veins. You find the strength to blink back the budding tears in your eyes, to really look at him.

He’s holding it together well, fingers grounded where they dig into your fleshy hips, crimson eyes looking you up and down, taking you in, but like the quiet snap of embers in the background, ruining the illusion of the room’s heat emanating from you and Katsuki, his body betrays him. His muscles are jumping under his skin, twitching involuntarily like the hide of one of the cavalry’s prize stallions, ready to run. Katsuki’s fucking a princess in his mind, you think, a future queen, and he’s proceeding accordingly, trying to keep his caresses light and his infamous temper in check.

You blink at him, vision watery, and realize suddenly that, for the first time in your life,  you want to be a hot-blooded, wild, mortal. You want only to be a woman with a man inside of her, and you want to be regarded as such.

“Still doin’ alri–” Katsuki cuts himself off with a grunt when you roll your hips, biting back a wince at the unfathomable pressure in your stomach, the depth of him snug inside you. “Wait–”

“I’m fine,” you say, surprising even yourself at your sharpness. Confidence swells in your chest as he squirms under you, kissing away the burn of how he’s worked you open.

“But–”

“Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon,” you say down to him, looking upon your new husband with hooded eyes as you grind your hips down into him, adjusting to the strange stretch that accompanies his body inside of yours. Each movement of your hips into his makes it easier, soothes the slow throb of your body trying to make room for him. Pleasure begins to ignite again along your fingertips, and when you scoot forward a bit, pushing your hips back, his cock nudges something inside of you that makes your jaw drop.

Katsuki’s eyes widen momentarily, but you can see the moment he loosens the leash, succumbs to his baser instincts. His grip on your hips loosens, shoulders slackening, and his eyes darken, lids dropping a bit just to cover the tops of those crimson irises. He’s beautiful, godlike even, planes of hardened muscle at your command, the flames from the candles reflected in his eyes. Katsuki drags his gaze over you, nostrils flaring, bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and pulling you to him, pressing your foreheads together. The shift in him makes you gasp; the calm force with which he chooses to exert his strength.

“Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke,” Katsuki says against your lips, all trepidation gone. You shudder in his arms, letting pleasure wrack down your spine like fire catching. “Yn eminna ao, hae sȳrī, dārilaros.”

Your blood sings at the low purr of the Old Tongue, poured into your mouth like a fine wine, but you curdle at Dārilaros. Princess. “Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys.”

Katsuki nearly snarls, swears under his breath. “What did I tell you about saying shit like that?”

“You call me your wife,” you say, thoroughly pleased with yourself at his rapid unraveling. It’s never been like you not to have the upper hand. “Treat me as your wife.”

Even a hair’s breadth away from his face, you can see Katsuki’s last shreds of honor, that warrior’s heart, dying out. His eyes flicker over your face as you fruitlessly roll your hips, not able to get to the full extent of your pleasure with him gripping you so tightly. For the first time, you can feel his hands tremble against your skin. He’s only steps away from joining you in your damning mortality, finding the raw, primal humanity deep down inside of him. You rut your hips at him again, useless against his resolute grasp.

“Please,” you sigh against him, not even thinking to be ashamed of the breathy, needy plea you let out, not even wholly sure of what you’re begging him for, “make me feel good again.”

Katsuki groans, low in his chest, and nods, a covenant you’re building in the hot air between your mouths. His hands grab into your hips more fully, and he lifts you, only part of the way, before sliding you back down the length of him. You gasp into his mouth, caught off guard by the punch of him back up into the space he’s carved out for himself. It feels like he’s in your lungs, your breath coming out labored and pinched.

“Move,” Katsuki commands, settling back a bit and forcing you to sit up straight, hands on your ribcage. You’re bared completely to him again, and it’s still horrible, but the arousal dims any humiliation that threatens to rise. “Move.”

You wiggle your hips again, moving shakily along his cock, but Katsuki’s not pleased, evidently, as he digs his hands back into your hips.

“Like this,” he says, using his iron grip on you to correct your movements. Katsuki drags you up and down his cock in smooth, fluid motions, and despite the slowly-easing discomfort, your nerve endings come alight, the molten want finding a new peak as he rips a moan out of your throat.

“Oh–”

“Better?” Katsuki huffs, a vicious grin cutting across his face. Your arms flail a bit as he moves you, rolling you along his length as if you’re nothing more than a doll to him. Katsuki notices your awkwardness, takes one of your hands and places it firmly on your breast. You follow his lead, thumbing gently over one hard nipple, and, at the jolt of pleasure, you quickly bring your free hand to match on the other side, letting your head fall back.

“Katsuki,” you pant, quickly losing your composure and falling victim to the sensations devouring you, “it’s– that’s so good.”

“I know,” Katsuki breathes, still pulling you this way and that, “you’re perfect, so soft around me.”

You’ve never gotten to be soft; iron princess on the iron throne, made of embers and scalding steam, but for him? You bloom, pretty as a petal, letting your body meld into his like it was always supposed to be here. You’re not soft like silk, you let yourself be soft like candlelight, like magma, like the crashing of the ocean when you’re far enough away that the waves won’t get you, drag you under. Soft like doom.

“I feel– fuck, I think I– I need more.”

Katsuki’s lips twist at the breathless curse that flies from your lips, so foreign and funny-sounding in your regal mouth. You want to tease him right back, but he slides you off of him, and the loss is so devastating, your bottom lip nearly juts out as it did when you were a child. Before you can protest too much, Katsuki’s laying you on your back, hands sliding along your thighs, and you follow your instincts and bring your legs up to wrap around his waist.

“If it’s too much…” Katsuki trails off, losing his words when he goes to brush your bottom lip with his thumb and you suck him in voraciously, nibbling on his finger.

“I’ll tell you,” you promise, spitting him out and letting your own hand flutter across his cheekbone. He’s almost glaring down at you; so intense is the desire in his eyes that a small part of you wants to shy away, but you don’t. You wiggle your legs that much wider, arch your back, lean into the burn of him. You were born for the heat.

Katuski’s mouth quirks up in a little smile, already so fond it makes your chest ache, and he slides back into you, groaning when your cunt sucks him in greedily. You try to embrace the novelty of it, the dull throb of his cock splitting you wide, digging your nails into his arm by mistake. Katsuki swears in surprise, and you jerk your hand away, until he looks down at you admonishingly.

“Go ahead, perzītsos,” he hums, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hairline, “I won’t break.”

He pulls back and thrusts back into you, harder than you’d expected, and your nails return to his wrist beside your head, digging half-moons into the pale skin. He’s different from this angle, not so agonizingly deep in you, but nudging against something inside you that renders you incapacitated, fuzzy-minded and pliant in his arms. Katsuki’s not faring any better than you, eyes hooded and little grunts slipping from his lips each time his hips connect with yours.

“What does it feel like?” Katsuki asks, beginning to look out of his mind with need. “Ivestragon nyke.”

“Deep,” you choke out, letting your jaw drop when he leans down to lick into your mouth, “full, I feel– full.”

“Good,” Katsuki mumbles, “good. Doesn’t hurt?”

“No.”

In answer, Katsuki moves his hips faster, snapping them against you with brute force. He’s keeping that ever-cognizant eye on you, monitoring you for any indication of pain or panic, but even through the haze of the tightening knot in the pit of your stomach, you can see him tumbling over the same edge that you have, lost to your baser instincts. You’re soft to him, your warm walls hugging him snug as he chases an end for you both, but sharp in the way your fingers claw into his skin, your teeth nip into his shoulder. Mine. Mine. Ñuhon.

“Katsuki,” you warn him, the balloon of pressure welling in your belly, growing so large you feel as though you might choke on it.

“I know,” he says, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. His voice is broken and ragged and tastes like hot coals, like copper and bronze and prophecy. You drink him down eagerly, so out of your mind with want that you’ve transformed. You’d entered the room as a blushing virgin of the highest, most noble bloodline, and here you are, twisting and keening under him, all molten limbs and whorish pants. Sweat dapples your forehead, drool smeared over your chin, and you’ve never felt more beautiful.

“I’m so– it’s the, the same,” you gasp, familiar words devolving into nonsense, “but it’s not enough, I don’t, I–”

“Here,” Katsuki growls, closing one strong fist around your wrist and sliding your arm between your writhing bodies, “just like I did it, remember?”

You find the same sensitive spot that Katsuki had shown you quickly, swollen and raw with pleasure, and try rubbing shaky circles over it, try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm and imitate his earlier movements. It’s uneven and inconsistent, but the added stimulation rockets through you, and your back pulls taut as a bow, arching off the featherbed.

“Close?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still not grasping what you’re close to, but feeling very much as though you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, that same rushing building in your ears. You somehow had the presence of mind to register that what’s building inside of you now is different than it was with his mouth between your legs; it’s faster, wetter, fuller, and it feels like it’s choking you.

“Come on,” Katsuki urges you, bordering on a snarl as he pants desperately into your mouth, “want to feel you cum around me, feel this little cunt milkin’ my cock.”

“Kat–” you try to call out for him, so overwhelmed the edges of your vision are going dark. He’s grinding his hips into you forcefully, pinning your fingers to the apex of your cunt, forcing you to rub yourself harder. 

“You can do it, raqiarzy, come on–”

You cut him off with a loud sob of his name, thighs caging him in and the innermost walls of your body clamping down on him. Light bursts behind your eyelids, the white-hot flames of dragonfire and the embers of a burning forest exploding as your body is racked with wave after wave of bliss. Katsuki’s skin breaks under your fingernails, the slight dampness of tearing flesh familiar even in the haze of your orgasm. He works you through it, driving his hips into you despite the vicious tightening of your cunt around him, whispering affirmations into the pallid skin of your shoulder. Every muscle in your body contracts painfully, and you’d feel ashamed of the sounds escaping you if you could find enough wherewithal to care.

“Close,” Katsuki grits out, rolling his hips into your still-contracting cunt as your high begins to dwindle, “you ready for me?”

“Uh-huh, please, I– yes,” you babble nonsensically, interlocked ankles bouncing at the small of his back. As your orgasm drains from your veins, your muscles go lax, zapped of the fervent energy that had overtaken you. You find your body to be pliant and receptive, but your mind solely focused on watching that same ethereal pleasure that had possessed you wash over Katsuki. “Yes, I w-want you to cum.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki swears, hips stuttering, “take it, take it all–”

A guttural groan accompanies a sticky warmth flooding your insides; you squirm in his tight grip and moan at the sensation of being filled, feeling a fresh rush of arousal flow through you as you feel his cock twitching inside of you. You bite deep into his shoulder to muffle the pathetic mewls slipping from you at the feel of both his and your cum leaking out of your body, pooling in a little puddle underneath you. Everything is so earthy and musky; Katsuki’s salty skin between your teeth, his bruising grip into your hips, the stink of sex and sweat permeating the bedsheets.

Katsuki’s chest heaves against yours as his hips rock into you one last time, the thatch of blond hair at the base of him pressing against where you’re swollen and achy hard enough to make you whimper. When you wriggle around underneath him, he seems to snap back into himself, propping his upper body up on his elbows and bringing a hand to your face, thumbing over the arch of your cheekbone.

“Y’alright?” His carmine eyes are still glazed over, words gummy between his teeth, but the tenderness of his hand as he strokes your cheek lets you know he’s there.

“I’m alright,” you say, and you mean it. Something so deep in you that you don’t even have a name for is throbbing, and your body is still clenching and fluttering around where he’s softening inside of you, but your limbs are heavy and your head is in the clouds.

He’s a sight to see, a sight you commit to memory; sweat glistens on his pale skin, his eyes are hooded and sleepy, and a contented, lazy grin is starting to tug at the corner of his mouth. Katsuki pulls his hips back, pressing his lips to your temple in apology when you murmur something unintelligible, but hinting at discontent. You feel empty in a way you had never known you were supposed to, not until you’d learned what it meant to be fulfilled.

“Anything hurt?”

You shake your head, not sure how to verbalize that you’re not feeling any pain, but a deep-seated satiation that hints to the fact that you might never be able to lift yourself from the bed again. Katsuki’s still caging you in, heavy body crushing yours, when a jarringly unwelcome sound floats over his shoulder.

“Ah, um– Princess? I need to confirm–”

“I know,” Katsuki, sliding back into the skin of a general with ease, growls over his shoulder, “that you’re not daring to speak to my wife while she’s naked underneath me.”

Even given everything, your cheeks flare, and you shove at Katsuki weakly, making apologetic eyes at the attendant despite your humiliation. “It’s his job, Katsuki–”

“They can’t send a woman for this shit?” Katsuki cages you in even further, glaring at the servant who’s nearly shaking in his slippers. “Well?”

“I–I can fetch a female servant to confirm the consummation of the–”

“Do that, then.” The attendant’s soft footsteps as he scuttles away are hardly overshadowed by your breathy, tired giggles.

“You didn’t have to terrorize the poor man,” you swat lightly at Katsuki’s chest, “it’s his duty to confirm that the marriage has been consummated. The priests won’t have it any other way.”

“I’m sure he heard enough,” Katsuki grumbles, flopping onto his back beside you. He opens one eye, notices the sheet dragging dangerously close to your nipple, and tugs it up to your chin, closing his eye again and humming contentedly. His arm pauses for a moment, like he wants to stretch it over your shoulders, but he pulls it back by his own side, thinking better of it. You aren’t sure if you want to be held, if the intimacy outside of your duty as his new wife will be too grating against your already-raw nerves.

“My ladies will be here soon,” you say quietly, “to bathe me and help me prepare for bed.”

“Figured,” Katsuki grumbles, sounding entirely displeased at more people disrupting your peace. Something about it warms your heart, some small part of your mind hoping that his displeasure is rooted in a desire to keep you all to himself, hidden beneath the sheets.

“Your own attendants shouldn’t be far behind.”

“My what?” Katsuki sits up on one elbow again, looks down at you disbelievingly. “I don’t need any…ladies.”

“You’ll get used to them,” you tell him offhandedly, wondering if you’re being truthful. You’re just beginning to get acquainted with the intricacies of the man behind the title, but the general seems fiercely independent to you, and the image of him getting his hair scrubbed by a flock of servants is enough to make you chuckle to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you assure him, “I’m sure you’ll be a perfect royal specimen.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow in irritation. “You didn’t inform me that ladies would be a part of my duties.”

“We can get men!”

“That’s worse.” Katsuki’s face screws up in an ugly scowl that makes you laugh outright. The lightness of your laughter makes his face fall a little, the hardened exterior giving way to the same man that had kissed reverently up the inside of your thigh, had been so achingly gentle with you when you weren’t sure what you would need to get through the night. A man you think you could love.

You look into each other’s eyes, something like starlight, like candlelight, like true, gods-given warmth buzzing between you, when the door creaks open, a gaggle of ladies and one priestess entering the room. Katsuki groans, tugs the blankets even further up your chests, the moment broken.

Ignoring his grumbles of protest, you pull yourself from the blankets with ease, baring your nude body to your ladies. There’s no shame in front of these women who have raised you, much to Katsuki’s astonishment. You don’t miss the way their eyes catch on the purple blooms on your hipbones, the way they squeal with excitement when you lay back and spread your legs for the priestess, displaying the thin trickle of Katsuki’s seed still steadily leaking from you. The priestess nods solemnly and leaves in the same manner; at least that’s done.

Your ladies do an absolutely dismal job of trying to appear subtle as they stare at Katsuki’s still-heaving chest, his narrowed eyes darting around the room suspiciously, his round biceps– your closest lady, Alanna, whisper-squeals in your ear about how huge your new husband’s arms are, and you have to pinch her cheek harshly to get her to stop, sensing Katsuki’s tangible discomfort from across the room. He behaves well as they bathe you, sitting up in bed and watching silently as you’re preened and fawned over, as your tangled hair has a brush torn through it and is twisted neatly into your nighttime braid.

A group of women hovering silently by the door, eyeing Katsuki nervously, appear to be his newly-appointed handmaids. You do both Katsuki and the women the favor of dismissing them for the night, unsure of how Katsuki, who is still gripping the sheets to his chest like a young, blushing maiden, will react to being pampered and scrubbed by foreign hands. 

“You can dismiss those serving girls for good,” Katsuki says gruffly, clean and ambling over to a looking glass to swipe a brush through his hair. “‘M not a boy, I don’t need any help getting myself to bed.”

You conveniently slide past the omission on the tip of your tongue– before Katsuki’s anxious staff had left, you had requested them to bring a hot bath, all of Katsuki’s bathing things from his old chamber, a freshly-dried sponge from the Narrow Sea for him to wash himself with. It’s enough to keep it to yourself, seeing how content he is in his new living space now, that you could do something for him amongst the chaos you’ve now thrown his life into.

“We’ll see,” you hum, picking at a stray cuticle over the covers and trying not to ogle him too obviously.

He’s still blessedly nude, unabashed in his swagger around the room as he dries himself with the strips of soft, woven cloth your ladies had left behind per your request. When he approaches the bed you’re laying in, you stiffen, unaccustomed still to these small intimacies. Royalty has proven to be a lengthy and lonely existence in your experience, and sharing it with someone is foreign to your solitary nature. Your own parents had had their own separate chambers, as every monarch before them. It was Katsuki’s one condition to accepting your proposal; you were to share bedchambers, like a common husband and wife.

“Princess?” Katsuki is hesitant when he approaches you, as if he already senses your trepidation. You will yourself to unclench your muscles, to relax your shoulders. You have no right to make him feel unwelcome in his own bed– the bed you now share.

“I told you I don’t want you to call me that.” You try to offer him a playful smile, but it only glimmers across your face. This is yet another bridge you need his guidance over.

“You did,” Katsuki nods sagely, the corner of his mouth twitching as he remembers the circumstance of that particular conversation, “I’m sorry, perzītsos.”

“Come to bed.”

“Are you sure?” Katsuki cocks an eyebrow at you, looking down at the huge bed warily.

“It was what you wanted.”

“Only if you want it.” Katsuki sighs deeply at your look of not-quite-belief and sits on the bed a respectable distance away from you. He reaches for your hand, a question, not a demand, and you slide your fingers into his calloused palm, humming contentedly when he runs his large thumb over your knuckles. He stays like that for a moment, contemplative and looking at your hand, bare of all of its usual finery and rings. “What did I say earlier?”

“When?”

“Before.” Katsuki raises his eyebrows enough that you catch his meaning.

“That we were doing things on my terms.” Something in your chest, warm and wet and laden with flowers, swells big and tight enough to pop.

“That didn’t just apply to, ah, earlier,” Katsuki coughs uncomfortably, flicking his eyes up to you, “that’s for all of this. Our…our lives are…the same now, and I don’t want you to think I need you– seven hells, that’s not what I meant–”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” You interrupt him suddenly, a saccharine smile curling the corner of your lips. Katsuki flushes a vicious red, frowns and shakes his head in confirmation. “Neither am I.”

“No?”

“I haven’t suddenly found myself married before, so no.” It feels silly, all of the sudden, to have guarded yourself at all. Katsuki is many things, but above all, he is steady, a resolute rock against an angry ocean. “But while I feel many things about our…unexpected union, one thing I do not feel is alone. We can do this on our terms, not just mine.”

Katsuki nods again, looks back down to your hand in his, and cracks a wry smile. “This is why you’re the politician.”

“I’m a princess,” you deadpan, “not a politician.”

“But I can’t call you that,” Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes. The lightheartedness lifts the atmosphere in your bedchamber, oppressive with marital expectations and the stuffy heat of candles left burning too long, and it gives you the needed weightlessness to have your eyes slowly blinking closed.

“Exactly,” you agree matter-of-factly, stifling a yawn. “Will you call someone in to dispose of the candles?”

Katsuki snorts, pushing himself off the bed without answer. Before you can protest or feel hurt by his sudden abandonment, he crosses the room and bends at the waist, blowing out one of over two dozen candles. You can only watch in growing fondness and amusement as he huffs at each little flame, the room growing darker by the moment. By the time he’s finished, your eyes are hardly open, drifting shut as you sink into the pillows. A satisfied throb echoes through your body as you wriggle down beneath the sheets, the lingering evidence of Katsuki’s presence on and in you bringing a warmth to your cheeks even in the now-dark room.

The last thing you register as you slip into the beginnings of a heavy sleep is the dip of the bed behind you, and a thick, muscled forearm creeping stealthily over your waist.

“This alright?”

All you can muster is a tired mumble of acquiesce, nuzzling into the firm chest behind you. Katsuki chuckles quietly into your hair, a dark, soothing sound that has your mind careening towards sleep, eager to melt into this world of warmth and comfort in his arms.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos.”

───── ⋆⋅ 𖤓 ⋅⋆ ─────

as promised, high valyrian translations here :)

Ānogar ānograro = "Blood of my blood."

Gevie = "Beautiful"

Iksā gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys. = "You are beautiful, my wife."

Eminna skoros iksis ñuhon. = "I will have what is mine."

Lo emilā nyke, emagon nyke, yn eminna ao, hae sȳr��, dārilaros. = "If you will have me, then have me, but I will have you as well, princess."

Eman daor pāletilla skori iksā iemnȳ yno. Iksan iā ābra, iksan aōha ābrazȳrys. = "I have no crown when you are inside me. I am a woman, I am your wife."

Perzītsos = "Little flame"

Ivestragon nyke. = "Tell me."

Raqiarzy = "Beloved"

Ēdrū sȳrī, ñuha perzītsos. = "Sleep tight, my little flame."

[hoedamn-eron]

duke leto - breeding

You're newly married to the Duke of Caladan, and you must create an heir.

Warnings: 18+, minors, DNI. Arranged marriage (and because of that, he's a bit cold at the beginning). Breeding kink. Age gap, but it's legal. Small, teeny tiny, praise kink. Also, teeny tiny Dom!Leto. Word count: 1,243 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was originally a part of my Kinktober list but now it's just a stand alone.

Your marriage to Duke Leto Atreides had been a political one, of course.

After all, you were sixteen years his junior, and his heart already belonged to Lady Jessica, the mother of his son, Paul. If he’d had a choice, he would have married Lady Jessica, but that would get no gain. The only reason the two of you were wed was to unite your Houses, that trading between your planets would be easier and beneficial if there was an insider on Caladan.

You had taken it all in your stride. You had little say in how your future panned out, but you had heard many great things about Leto Atreides and how honourable he was. He was a just man, and a kind man, and you were sure that he would treat you with respect. You met the day before your wedding, had dinner together, where you’d made idle chat about your lives before you had met. Then you went your separate ways and didn’t see each other until you were to be wed.

You had had a grand party, where you barely got a word in to your new husband as you both were surrounded by congratulations from many guests and family members, even that night when he had taken you to bed, he had said few words, the implication of your futures weighing heavy on him. You had the feeling he would have opted to not take you to your bedchambers if he had the choice, but no marriage was law until consummated. However, he had treated you well, as it was your first time, and he even helped clean up afterwards, but he left shortly after midnight to spend the rest of the night with Lady Jessica.

You hadn’t minded, really, that he had a concubine; she was there long before you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with rich and powerful men having wives and concubines. Like you said, Duke Leto treated you well, but you knew he would never love you like he loves her, but you weren’t there for love, you were there for duty.

Like right now, as he has you in your bedchambers, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you slowly.

He only ever visits your bedchambers twice a week, otherwise he’s with Lady Jessica. You and he both know that you must create a ‘legitimate’ heir, if not to rule Caladan, then to strengthen the relationship between Caladan and your home planet. You weren’t opposed to becoming a mother, and you cherished the nights you spent with Leto as you tried for a child.

Especially when he makes you feel so good.

“That’s it,” he mutters against your neck, as he grinds deliciously into you.

You gasp, your eyes closing as your head is thrown back against your pillow. “Please…faster…”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he doesn’t change his pace. He moves with you, his hard cock thrusting in and out of you, leaning on his left forearm above your head, his right hand trailing along your waist leaving a path of fire in its wake. Something’s different. It shouldn’t feel like this, he belongs to another. He shouldn’t be saying these things to you, about how good you’re making him feel, how good you’re taking him. How you’re always so willing to help him with making an heir.

He pauses as you involuntarily let out a loud, deep moan, and clench around him. You’d both never explicitly said the obvious; that the only reason you go to bed together is to make an heir, it was just always known. But now, as he pants into your sweat sheened neck, telling you about how he’s going to stuff you and make you a mother, you’re practically dripping on the sheets…and he can feel it.

Leto lifts himself to look down at you, but you can’t meet his eye. You can already feel your cheeks warming, and you’re mortified. He keeps looking at you as he slowly starts thrusting again, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds back up again. You can’t look at him, not now. But he has other ideas.

Your eyes snap open as you feel him hold your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him. He’s so intense, you feel the urge to look away from him.

“No,” he demands, and your eyes immediately look back him. “You look at me. Keep looking at me.”

You let out a whimper as his hips speed up. “Y-yes, your Grace.”

“You’re doing so well,” he mutters, and gives out his own groan as you squeeze around him again. “So, so well sweetheart.”

You let out a noise that was between a whine and a sob. He’d never been so…affectionate before. Your orgasm was brewing, and he seemed nowhere near ready to finish. Your hips rocked with his as you felt every delicious caress his cock offered you. “Don’t stop. Please.” You were pretty sure you were clawing your nails in his back but you were so out of it, you couldn’t tell.

“I would never,” Leto said, looking in your eyes, and you believed him. “I’m going to keep going until you are filled with me. We’re not stopping until you are with child. My child.”

“Fuck!” you cried as your climax hits you hard. You still beneath him, your eyes closing as your mouth hangs open, the intense pleasure becomes all-encompassing, radiating outwards from your core. It's as if a floodgate of sensations opens, and a rush of euphoria spreads through your body. It's a release of tension, a peak of pleasure that can feel like a sweet explosion of sensation.

You’re positive you black out, as you come to your orgasm subsides, a sense of deep relaxation and contentment overtakes you, but Leto has released your jaw and is buried in your neck again, groaning your name as his hips slam into you with such force, you were certain he would leave bruises. You thread your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, and you give a whimpered, “Leto…”

He lets out a loud, guttural moan before his hips still in you, then give a few small, precise thrusts as he cums deep into you. He soon goes limp on top of you, his forearm holding him up as not to crush you. You pant as you look at the ceiling above you, the sudden feeling of panic in your chest overtaking. That was incredibly inappropriate. You used less-than-ladylike language, you’d called him by his name. You’d marked his back. You were sure Lady Jessica would have your head –

You both let out a groan as he pulls out of you, and you feel your combined fluids drip out of you. You’re about to apologise to him but you let out a loud gasp as Leto grabs the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half before pushing his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You’re gasping and you’re about to question him but the words fall flat on your tongue, seeing how strongly he’s staring at you.

“Do not move,” he demands of you.

You nod your head at him. “Yes, your Grace.”

He gives you a small grin, his fingers moving just that much deeper into you, causing a small moan to escape your lips. “I think, now, you can call me Leto. We are married, after all.”

[thehmn]

I made a post some time ago (LINK) about how trolls are more nuanced creatures in Scandinavian folklore than in modern English speaking pop culture and are often used as sympathetic allegories for people who just can’t fit in with mainstream society, be it because of their disability, gender or sexuality.

I realized I forgot about the Danish 1856 ballet A Folk Tale (you can watch it on YouTube here LINK) despite it being an excellent example because in modern times it has been reinterpreted to fit this new view of trolls. (Because it’s an older ballet it has less dancing and more miming and acting than you’re probably expecting)

The story to help you better understand the ballet: The human girl Hilda and the troll girl Birthe are swapped as infants.

Many years later during a picnic Birthe is flirting with the nobleman Sir Mogens even though her fiancé Junker Ove is present. She enjoys toying with both of them, much to Ove’s dismay and Mogens’ delight. It all ends in Ove and Birthe having a fight resulting in Birthe leaving with Mogens and Ove staying in the forest past sundown to collect his thoughts.

Suddenly a nearby hill opens and reveals the troll sorceress Muri and her adopted daughter Hilda. Muri tells Hilda to lure Ove closer and get him to drink from an enchanted cup but he refuses, spills the drink and won’t give the cup back. As revenge Muri summons the elves who dance him into madness and leave him scared, confused and half naked in the dark forest (if you only know fantasy elves this is a perfect example of what the original elves are like in Scandinavian folklore)

In the underworld we learn that Hilda has been told she’s an elf girl but she senses something is off. Both of Muri’s sons, Diderik and Viderik, are in love with her but Muri has decided that Diderik should marry her because he’s the oldest. During the engagement party Hilda and Viderik get the guests drunk and run away.

They end up near a sacred spring where they see a priest feed the healing water to sick people. They try to cheer the sick and poor people up with music and dance but suddenly Ove shows up. He still has the elf madness and scares everyone. Mogens happens to walk by and thinks Ove is attacking people so he runs to get help, secretly plotting to get Ove out of the way so he can marry Birthe. Meanwhile Hilda feeds some of the sacred spring water to Ove and dance him back to sanity. Mogens returns with soldiers, hunters and farmers and trap Ove. Viderik helps him escape using his magic music and sends Mogens and his men on a wild goose chase.

Back at the mansion Birthe is terrorizing her servants and even goes as far as to threaten to throw her mother out of the house. Hilda who had been running from Mogens’ men makes her way into the mansion where she is recognized as the true heir to the estate. Because of her horrible treatment of the household Birthe is immediately thrown out onto the street and runs to Mogens for help only to find him under a troll spell. Instead of being horrified she’s delighted. Viderik realize she’s his real sister and while they talk it out other supernatural creatures come out and trap Mogens. Muri and Diderik have been looking for Hilda and Viderik and arrive just as Birthe is starting to come around to the idea that she might be a troll. Muri sees an opportunity and asks Mogens if he wants to marry her daughter Birthe. He’s too terrified and refuses until Muri offer him treasure. When Birthe realizes her troll family is even richer than her human family she immediately accepts that she’s a troll and together Birthe and Mogens follow the trolls into the underworld.

Back at the mansion Hilda and Ove have been reunited and are celebrating their wedding. Mogens and Birthe arrives which at first scares people but they’ve come in peace and to show their good will they’ve bought a dance troupe and preform for the newly weds. The ballet ends on a freeze frame of Hilda and Ove standing in the light, looking towards the human world, and Birthe and Mogens in the dark, raising their arms towards the supernatural world, both couples getting their happiest possible ending.

Now, the original version took place during the renaissance and had a strong Christian theme. Hilda wanted to return to the human world because she longed for Christian values and Ove was like a beacon of purity for her to follow. At the end all trolls left Denmark, symbolizing Christianity finally taking hold of the country.

The updated version takes place in the time it was written and the Christian themes have been severely downplayed. Trolls and all supernatural creatures are still very much present, even watching the wedding from a distance. It is now a personal story about people feeling misplaced and longing for a community that understands and accepts them.

Birthe is aggressive, even cruel at times, but this version also implies her behavior is part nature and part nurture. She is described as spoiled meaning her parents had a huge hand in how she turned out, unable or perhaps unwilling to handle her condition and now her mother despise what she has become. This is evident in how Birthe behaves around her mother. She LOVES her wet nurse who took on the emotional parenting role but recoils at her mother’s touch. She also directs most of her abuse at the housekeeper because she most openly mocks Birthe’s clumsiness and inability to act refined. There’s a heartbreaking scene where Birthe gets so frustrated with her inability to dance and fit in that she screams at her own reflection until the wet nurse calms her down.

Only two people are able to calm Birthe down, her wet nurse who cuddles her when she gets upset and Mogens who is seen directing Birthe’s attention to himself which softens her demeanor because she likes him and doesn’t want to cause him more harm than he can handle.

Both her and Mogens are also more queer coded in this version. Birthe wants to be a dancer and gets very up and close with the female dancers. In the first scene Mogens can be seen flirting with the female staff and in the last scene he feels comfortable openly flirting with the male dancers. It’s worth noting neither acts jealous when they see their partner flirt, again shining a light on their alternative relationship.

And who could forget when Birthe tricks Mogens into kissing Ove. In the taped version he kiss Ove’s hand but in the version I watched live they kissed on the mouth which better explained why Mogens grabs Ove’s face later as if to mockingly say “You think I’m disgusting? Look at what you’ve become”

And you’d think Mogens had more reason to be mad than Ove but no, he’s flustered but gets over it almost immediately while Ove is so angry he rips his jacket off like the good pure boy he is.

And something that really stands out is Mogens’ worship of Birthe. The first time Birthe appears all the other characters run to the opposite end of the stage but Mogens doesn’t even flinch. He just bathes in her presence. When she asks him to push her on the swing he unprompted gets her whip.

In a later scene she’s seen using a bell to bully her servants and the final thing that makes her realize she has lost all power is when they ignore it, which makes it very symbolic that Mogens gives her the bell back in the final scene and holds her up high while she rings it. Boy loves his Dom GF so very very much.

It also says something about Mogens that he randomly appears in the bad part of town. He’s very good at playing the upper class game and seems to be quite respected but also seeks escape in the outskirts of society. When Birthe really gets going you can see Mogens acting shocked followed by pure joy at such a free and wild woman. The Danish translation of Shakespeare’s Taming of The Shrew is Troll can be Tamed and this ballet almost feels like a response to that. Trolls/wild women should not be tamed! They should be free around people who love them for their wildness!

Their behavior is perfectly in line with what we see in the underworld. Muri is played by a male dancer to give her the proper imposing height and it’s left up for interpretation if older female trolls are just bigger than the males or if she’s a trans mommy. The engagement party is risqué from the start and quickly turns into a drunken sex orgy (Good luck to Mogens when he is engaged to Birthe. All I’m saying is as a human he’s going to be very popular with the other creatures) It might seem like an evil world but this version of the ballet really tries to make it clear that this is normal and expected behavior in the underworld. They act like that because they like it and are all happy with the way their society works. Even the more gentle troll Viderik prefer the underworld to the human world. It’s not bad just different.

Birthe and Mongens almost come of as lower level money-happy Disney villains, deserving of a fitting punishment for their treatment of the people around them, but certainly not death and the story is overall sympathetic to them as people who have been mangled by a society that mistreated and punished them for something that was out of their control which is why they get a happy ending. Definitely worth a watch.

[imagines--galore]

Legolas 17 pls 🙏🙏🙏 love your work 🩷🩷

Summary: You had always been the one overlooked. The one watching from the shadows. But when he reached his hand out to you, you felt........seen. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance/Angst. None A/N: Alright, so I made the reader sister to Aragorn. Hope thats alright and I hope you like this!

Content.

Contentment radiated from your very soul as you stood in the shadow of the pillar. Watching as your brother took his beloved's hand and led her in the first dance as husband and wife.

The assembled guests burst into applause as the music began, and after a few moments, couples began to take to the dance floor. They all reveled in the joy of the newly married couple.

You continued to watch, head leaning against the cool marble pillar, as you watched your brother and his wife.

Aragorn and Arwen.

King and Queen of Gondor.

Your heart hummed a song of happiness. Happiness for your brother. He deserved this. Deserved more then every moment of this night. This day. And any other that came with Arwen by his side.

Never once had you doubted their love for one another. Even when Aragorn had begun to doubt, you had stayed strong for him. Had never let him let go of that hope, of his love for Arwen.

And it had borne fruit.

They were married now.

By the Valar they were married.

A burst of pure happiness radiated form your chest, prompting you to smile.

"It seems even you cannot refrain from allowing yourself to smile on such an occasion." Came a voice from the other side of the pillar, one full of mirth and a tenderness that was only reserved for you.

Legolas.

Though there was a pillar between the both of you, you could still envision the smile on his lips and the gentleness in his eyes.

"No one can resist. Not tonight." You said, your voice soft as your gaze roamed around the hall where the wedding party was. "Not when they are in the presence of a love so great it shall never burn out."

A soft laugh was his response. "Is that how you see their love?" He asked, always in awe of the way you saw the world. Legolas was always fascinated when it came to looking at the world through your eyes. You always provided a unique perspective for him.

"And how do you see our love?"

The question prompted you to blink in surprise, and very nearly look in his direction. But you stopped.

A sound that was a mixture of a sigh and a giggle, fell from your lips as you spoke softly. "I see our love as something that shall transcend lifetimes." Silence followed your words, and you were sure you had surprised him with your answer.

You closed your eyes as you leaned against the pillar and continued to speak.

"I see our love as bright as the light of the Valar." You felt him move, prompting you to take a step back, so that you were half-concealed within the shadows.

"I see our love as our salvation. Even in the most dire of times, it was our light." You were now standing behind the pillar, still leaning against it, your eyes closed. But you could feel him.

Standing right in front of you.

"I see our love as an entity that saved me from myself."

Finally, you opened your eyes, only to loose breath at finding him standing so close to you. His blue eyes penetrated to the very depths of your soul.

"I see our love as the light that guided me out of the shadows." You continued, your voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to tenderly stroke your cheek with his fingers.

There was a time when even thinking of having someone be in love with you as Legolas was, would have you scorning at the thought. Love had no room in your life. Not when you had promised your mother that you would help Aragorn on his path.

As the heir of Isildur, he had much on his shoulders, and as his sister, you were there to ease the load and help him however you could.

No distractions.

But then you had met Legolas.

And for the first time in your life, you had no clue how you would navigate through the plethora of feelings that awakened within you.

Feelings that had a warmth grow inside you, one you had never felt before. One that continued to grow with each passing day. It had felt so strange, to feel that warmth glow within you, to feel it flicker whenever he would look your way. Or feel it lick along your skin when he would touch you. By accident or purpose, you did not know.

And what had you done to combat those feelings?

You had retreated into the shadows. Had retreated into yourself just because you were afraid. Afraid that these feelings would become real, too real, if either of you said anything out loud.

So you hid. You hid in your shadows, and behind your silence.

You barely spoke to him, barely acknowledged him. And though he kept his distance, Legolas was not one to give up easily. He was sure of his feelings for you long ago.

The elf was never obvious about them, however, his subtlety at conveying the depth of his affection for you were ones you had never missed over the years.

Then again there were times when even your feelings for him could no longer stay within the shadows and would come to light.

                                         ————————–

The first time you had shown signs of the deep affection you felt for the Prince was after a rather harrowing run-in with a band of orcs. You were greatly outnumbered, but still your small group of Rangers stood their ground.

You had only just felled an Orc, adrenaline racing through your body, your eyes already seeking out another opponent.

That was when you saw Legolas.

He had run out of arrows and was now fighting with his two long knives. Two Orcs at once. His entire concentration was on the creatures in front of him, leaving one of the stray Orcs to raise a wicked looking axe, aiming to strike the Prince from behind.

Amidst the chaos around you, your voice screamed his name. Your body acted without thought as you raised your sword and threw it in the direction of Legolas's would-be-killer.

The sword didn't find its mark, but it did knock the Orc off it's feet, giving Legolas time to collect himself and take care of the Orc himself.

The sight of the Orc standing behind Legolas about to strike him haunted you for days. Your sleep was plagued by night terrors, where you were not able to help him, where you watched helplessly as Legolas fell. The light in his eyes slowly dying. That was normally when you forced yourself to awaken.

Your body would tremble, your emotions on the very precipice of a cliff that had no end in sight. Valar! You were loosing your mind. A few nights after the encounter you had a particularly harrowing night terror. Not only had Legolas perished in it, but Aragorn too. As had Arwen, Elrohir, Elladen, Elrond, and so many others that you had grown to love since you knew them.

You had blindly stumbled from your sleeping roll, unaware that Legolas had been the one on watch that night. That he saw you as you stumbled away, saw the tears that ran down your cheeks as you disappeared into a cluster of trees near their camp ground. Worry gnawed at his heart and quickly waking the next person to keep watch, he followed after you.

It was rather easy to find you, since you made no effort to hide yourself. There you were, leaning against a tree, your head buried in your hands as your shoulders shook. In the stillness of the night your sobs echoed clear and the despair and utter sorrow behind those sobs caused a near physical ache to bloom in the Prince's chest.

Unable to stand by and do nothing while you suffered so, he stepped forward reaching out to gently place a hand on your shoulder.

Even before feeling his hand, you knew he was there. It was a strange ability you had. You always knew when Legolas was near. Unbeknownst to you, he shared the very same ability.

At the moment though the rawness of your emotions and the night terror still lingering in your conscious thoughts had you pivoting on your heel and throwing your arms around him in an almost desperate embrace. You clung to him, head buried in his shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso. The sobs began anew and through broken words and whispered phrases you told him of your fears and night terrors.

The moment Legolas felt your arms around him, he had not hesitated in returning the embrace. His hands traced gentle patterns against your back, fingers slowly sliding up to your hair where he began to stroke and play with the soft strands.

Once you had exhausted yourself and had spilled out the reason behind your tears, you slowly fell silent. Your sobs turned to gentle sniffles and slight tremors as you tried to calm yourself. Now that you were somewhat at peace, Legolas took the chance to reassure you with his words.

"You have said your piece Little One, now you must listen to mine."

Little One. He had called you so since he first met you. But the words were never said in a condescending manner. Sure he called you so because of how young you were compared to his elf years, but there was always something endearing about the way he said the words.

You felt a gentle hand tug at your chin. You tilted your head back in response, opening your eyes to finally meet Legolas's ever blue gaze. One that was full of compassion and affection.

"You must not allow the darkness of this world to overcome your good heart Y/n. Not only will the people who love you mourn your loss, but this world will be a much better place if you were to face it with a smile on your face, and light in your heart."

He still held your chin ever so gently, while his other hand continued to play with your hair. "Darkness will come, there is no denying, but all we can do is look past it, look towards tomorrow and hope that we have the people we love with us so that everyday is brighter then the last."

Your eyes were wide, and swimming with unshed tears. But his words, his voice, resonated within you. So much so that you decided then and there to live your life to the extent of which you had denied yourself for so many years.

                                         ————————–

As Isuldir's heir, Aragorn was the one who caught the attention of those who knew who he was. He didn't like it, he never did. But it was inevitable.

He especially hated how people seemed to forget that he had a sister who shared the same blood as he did. You were just as important, he would reassure you, but you had waved him away at that.

"The people need a King, Brother. A symbol of hope. And you are that symbol. Not I. I am merely the shadow that shall stay in the shadows watching you and protecting you."

You had spoken those words years ago, never thinking that someone else would come to stand beside you in the shadows. Someone who would take your hand and help you along your path.

An elf who would become your closest confidant.

A friend who would comfort you whenever you should need it, and whose soul you would soothe in return.

The prince who would fall in love with the princess.

Wearing the silver circlet that shared many similarities to the one he wore, you pushed yourself up to your toes, grasping his shoulders for support, to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you." You spoke softly, the smile upon your lips leaving him breathless as you gazed at him. His hands found yours, grasping them tightly within his as he lifted them to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles of both your hands. "Nay." A shiver ran through your body as you felt the word whispered against your skin.

"It is I who should be thanking you Little One. For loving me and allowing me to love you."

You laughed softly, gently guiding him forward so that your bodies were all but pressed together in the most intimate of embraces. "En melda caun." My beloved Prince. "Since neither of us will accept the other's gratefulness to loving one another, let us simply celebrate it together?" You offered.

A laugh, one full of nothing but joy and happiness of what was to come fell from his lips as he gave a small nod of agreement.

Before closing the last of the distance between the both of you and sealing the promise with a kiss that would chase away the last of the darkness that lingered in your heart.

You were his, and he was yours.

Nothing could part you from one another.

[blorbocedes]

I wish you would write more wag!nico a fic where girl!nico is married to michael but she fucks girl!lewis on the side 😁

a bridgerton inspired au, aka totally devoid of any actual regency customs/historical accuracy. please enjoy!

It is funny now but at the time it had felt like the end of the world.

In just one season, Nico’s life turned up in itself. It all happened in rapid succession. The Queen named Nico, daughter of Earl Rosberg, the diamond of the season. In manners, beauty, and pedigree she was unmatched. But the darker truth remained: the vicious storms that flooded left all her father’s lands upturned, all harvests spoiled – his emerald mining investments had failed, and gambling debt collectors were knocking at the door. Nico’s dowry was astronomical, she was the envy of every young miss and a bag of gold in a dress to every materialistic lordling. And then came the most eligible bachelor of the season: the newly widowed, wealthier than god Duke Schumacher in want of a new wife to secure his heir. It was a match the Queen herself approved. Nico’s opinion on the matter did not. She screamed and cried, she was supposed to be spinsters with Lewis forever on her father’s estate.

It wasn't until the gravity of their family situation which had been concealed to shield her was finally revealed, and the Duke’s promise to her father that he would settle the matter of the debts, that Nico finally relented. Above all else, she was a dutiful daughter. By the end of spring, she was in white to be married. Lewis did not attend the wedding, taking off to sail across the seas with her brother.

And then three years later, Lewis returned. Since locking eyes across the ballroom floor, and feeling her heart sing in a way it has not for so long, they were inseparable, occupied in each other’s minds to care for the stuffy, uppity world around them. Now Lewis has afternoon tea in Nico’s townhouse, sharing womanly vocations trading gossip and scandal, such as how the lady Browning’s oldest child bears a curiously striking resemblance to the gardener instead of the lord Browning.

“Put my sweet to sleep now.” Nico hands off the golden haired bundle of joy after it has finished suckling her breast to her handmaid. She lies back in the sofa, in no haste to fasten her laces, unashamed of the view she makes.

“Motherhood suits you.” Lewis remarks from across from her, at the other end of the sette. Her hair is tucked in the most intricate of braids, adorned in the latest fashions she picked up from France, her skin warm and a most healthy glow; the stunning image of a cosmopolitan, worldly woman.

Nico, by comparison, is tired and pale from having a newborn. “Yes, well. You say that now but when I was fat and round with child…” The maids practically had to force-feed her, while she bursted out of the seams of all her dresses, needing them altered. She lazily traces Lewis’ arm with her foot, thrilled at the touch of skin. It is unbecoming for a lady, for a duchess, but near Lewis she is a giddy maiden, spoiled for touch.

Lewis looks around to ensure no maids are in the drawing room, not a soul around, and then pounces on Nico; practically climbing atop, like they did so many times in their girlhood.

“I would keep you fat and round through ten summers straight if I could. A great big army. And you could not cease to be lovely if you tried.” Lewis whispers into Nico's ear. Her words make Nico’s cunt throb, her ears hot.

Nico pulls Lewis’ mouth inside hers, the place where it first learned how to kiss and thus always hers forever. Lewis pulls the neck of her dress down further, hand cupping Nico’s breast, still sensitive from nursing and fat with milk. Nico bites down on Lewis’ lip when she takes a nipple between two fingers and presses.

Nico’s knee presses in between Lewis’ legs amid her dress. Her pianoforte expertised hand chases under her petticoat, going up higher and higher, clawing her the soft flesh of thigh on the way. She smells intoxicating, like fresh apricot. Nico used the heel of her palm to put pressure and grind on Lewis’ cunt. They get lost in each other’s bodies, falling into a rhythm and soft moans and reluctant break from kissing to breathe pierces the ear.

She was always blessed with sharp ears, and could identity the sound of the carriage on cobblestone signalling her husband’s return home.

By the time her handmaid came to announce the Duke’s presence, Lewis and Nico were sitting at a respectable distance away from each other, not at all disheveled or in a state of half undress. Only the racing of their hearts could give such a sordid secret away.

The Duke is a tall man, taking up more space in a room by his daunting figure and the hard line of his jaw and beady steel blue eyes.

“Miss Hamilton, a pleasure to see you again,” Michael greets Lewis curtly before turning to Nico in German. “Emergency session at parliament, see to it my bags are packed. I shall be heading after dinner.”

“Of course,” Nico simpers, instructing the maids with a simple swish of her hand. She's careful in her tone, in German, while Lewis busies herself with a scone. “When will you be returning?”

“A week, at the least.”

The gears in Nico’s head shift, as she switches to English. “Husband, would it be possible to spare a carriage so Lewis can make way to her aunt’s house whom she is staying with? She would need to leave immediately to make it to town before sunset.”

A muscle switches on Michael’s handsome face. Nico provoked it on purpose, to send an unchaperoned lady away in the dark hours of the night at the Duke’s expense.

“Nonsense, miss Hamilton is our guest. In fact, I would insist she stay until I return. Give you two time to catch up on your bosom friendship.” Michael replies. His words may be sweet, but Nico knows after lady Browning’s scandal, Michael has been reluctant to leave Nico in his charge of his estate. Their gardener has not shown up for weeks, weeds growing overflown, and Nico is quite certain the new estate guards are eunuchs although she does not care enough to check.

With Lewis staying as a guest of the Schumacher’s, Michael can rest easy knowing Nico would not dare to bring another man to warm her bed.

“That is a most kind invitation. We do have much catching up to do.” Lewis smiles.

Her husband said nothing about another woman to warm her long, lonely nights.

[onboardsorasora]

Ripe cherries??????

It's my maxiel medieval omegaverse fic that's been tabled for like 6 months now but I opened the doc today🥹

“King Jos and Prince Max, your Majesty.” The self-important man bowed at the waist to another man, seated behind a desk– working. Said man stood and his richly dyed doublet caught the light coming through the high windows of the room. His face was handsome in a chiseled, rugged way and Max understood why when this trip was announced, the omega of the palace were awash with whispers of the alpha King Mark of the South.

“Jos, welcome.” Mark smiled broadly and clasped forearms with Jos who smiled equally widely. Both kingdoms served to gain from this arrangement. The South would gain a very powerful ally and the North would gain an omega princess to give their kingdom alpha heirs.

Max thought it was all silly, there was no guarantee that an omega would produce alpha children. Just because one was royal didn’t make them any more likely than a peasant. If anything, King Nico of the West would no doubt be the first to broach the topic what with his bevy of omega children. They were all lovely and no less fit to lead because of their designations. But that was an argument for a different day. Max’s purpose here was to meet, wed and bed a royal omega.

He peered around the room quietly as the Kings spoke, noting the absence of said omega. King Mark’s youngest brother, Daniel. He is said to be quite beautiful and joyful. As if reading his thoughts, Jos peaked around the room, noticing the obvious lack as well.

“Where is your brother? No doubt he will want to meet his new alpha.” Jos’ proud smile coloured his words when talking about Max.

The self-important man left the room quietly. Assumingly to fetch the wayward omega. The doors to the room opened again and a slender man walked in, his dark doublet and trousers were of the practical fabrics used by those that worked in the castle, Max recognized from their short trek through the grand halls.

Mark suppressed a sigh but he didn’t suppress the way his eyes rolled as he took in the curly head that lowered into a skillful curtsey before them. Max watched curiously, Jos’ lip turned up in a half sneer before he seemed to catch himself.

“Many apologies brother, Jetty needed help in the infirmary and I lost track of time.” The apology was demure and Max watched as Mark bit his tongue– for what reason, he didn’t understand.

“It is fine, brother. Please rise and meet King Jos and your betrothed Prince Max. Gentlemen, my brother Princess Daniel.”

The newly introduced Princess Daniel stood and Max was taken in by his gorgeously bright brown eyes. He was lithe, with messy curls that have all but escaped the comb seemingly placed for that purpose. He smiled serenely at them and Max couldn’t look away.

[sunnytarg]

Could you please write more for yandere husbands Aegon 1 and Maegor?

I’ve come to the conclusion that writing for Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor has become my destiny.

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

You learn quickly that being married to Aegon can be suffocation. Considering the man has two other wives and is trying to unite Westeros, you have no clue how it still feels as though he is breathing down your neck all the time.

Aegon is a hard man to say no to. Before the two of you wed, he was always bringing you jewels to wear or requesting that you go flying with him. Specifically on his dragon, despite the fact that you had your own. So when you finally said your vows, you didn’t know why you expected things to be different. He insisted on breaking fast with you every morning and falling asleep with you every night. Even if he had just fucked one of his sister-wives, he would find his way to your bed afterward.

You thought that perhaps over time he would loosen his grip on you. Perhaps he held on so tight to you because he was taking Westeros and was afraid that any enemies might come after you or because you were newly married and he didn’t want you out of his sight. After a few years had passed and he was named king, though, you soon realized that that wasn’t the case. In fact, it seemed that the longer you were married to Aegon the more possessive and controlling he became. He was just so sweet about it that you hadn’t noticed it at first. Like when he would become upset when you left your chambers. At first, he said it was simply because you hadn’t told him. That he wanted to go on a walk with you and that it felt as though you were ignoring him. Eventually, though, you began to notice that your door would be locked sometimes during the day and all through the night. You wanted to ask his sisters about it but Aegon had slowly cut off any contact you had with them as well.

At the beginning of your marriage, you found yourself close to Visenya and Rhaenys but soon Aegon decided that he didn’t want you to be influenced negatively by them. When you asked him about it, he only smiled charmingly at you and told you that his sisters are wanderers and that he didn’t want that to rub off on you. What he didn’t tell you was that he had warned his sisters to stay away from you and not to give you any ideas about leaving.

It wasn’t long until you learned to stop fighting against Aegon’s orders. He wasn’t cruel, just overbearing and he didn’t demand heirs out of you, especially after his sister-wives both gave him sons. You were just to stay in your locked chambers and wait for Aegon to visit you. If you didn’t think much about it you wouldn’t even remember that it wasn’t your choice to stay locked away.

Maegor

Maegor is an intense man, so it only makes sense that he would be an intense husband. Your marriage to Maegor was not one that you agreed to but you had put up little fight as you had seen how he had forced his other wives to wed him. In the beginning, Maegor was exactly as you had expected. You remained in your chambers and only saw your servants, who were instructed to not talk to you, or Maegor when he decided to visit you and try and make his seed take root in your womb.

You had only ever seen his other wives at the wedding and at the bedding ceremony and when you finally worked up the courage to ask Maegor why you couldn’t see the other women, he only replied that they would corrupt you. He saw you as sweet and innocent. Never hearing of you plotting against him and never denying him access to your body. Soon, Maegor began to spend more time with you. Eventually, he insisted that your belongings be moved to his chambers. It was where you spent most of your time. Not being allowed into court or being allowed to converse with the few people you saw.

Maegor eventually stopped leaving your shared chambers at night, no longer visiting his other wives and instead spending his time in bed with you. When your stomach began to swell with a child, Maegor allowed you a few more liberties. When you asked to walk in the gardens, he hesitantly agreed, stating that you were free to do so as long as you were with him.

Maegor hovered over you most of the time but he made sure that you didn’t see many of the things the kingdom whispered about him. That was until eight moons into your pregnancy and you had finally met another one of his wives. She had introduced herself as Tyanna. You weren’t sure what it was about the beautiful woman, but you didn’t trust her. Over your shared meal together, at the end of the day, when Maegor insisted you tell him of your day, you had brought up Tyanna. Maegor froze briefly. The motion was so quick that you thought that perhaps you had imagined it. You had asked if it was okay that she visited you to which he curtly said that it was fine.

Of course, you had no idea that that night as you slumbered Maegor had brought Tyanna to the dungeons and tortured her, trying to find out why she sought you out. His love for her once great was now gone that he had you as his wife. He was now clear to see who Tyanna really was and he knew she had not visited you for no reason. Maegor did not tell you any of this, though, instead, you only woke the next morning and found a wooden box on your table. When you opened it you saw a bloodied heart.

Had this happened earlier in your marriage or perhaps even before you were with child, the sight of something so horrific might have made you scream but instead, you had only shut the box and waited for your husband to return to your chambers. You were caressing your large, swollen stomach as he asked what you thought of his gift. You knew there was only one answer to his question, so you easily slipped a smile onto your face and told him that you loved it and that you appreciate him looking out for yourself and your unborn babe.

[writingsofwesteros]

Imagine King Maegor

At the end of everything he DIDNT die. Waging his war with the faith…. And winning.

But while he’s waging his war, he’s separated. Ends up asking for shelter from a peasant woman. A young lady. Newly married. But her husband away. Most likely arranged. She doesn’t know who he is and shows him kindness. But when he gets back to his troops and dragon, raining hellfire on his enemies, then she realizes soon.

But King Maegor decides to have his way with her. So while things burn, he rips her clothes and pins her, shoving his cock into her aggressively. She whimpers and begs but that just encourages him. Any woman is dwarfed by his size, and the poor lady is fucked dizzy as he forces his cock in and out of her again and again mercilessly. Clutching her hips and emptying himself into her abused cunt. His gift to himself for the victory.

But he keeps her after. Just to entertain himself during the conflict. A spoil of war. Keeps her close. But whenever the king demands access to that little hole, she’s powerless to stop him. For days at a time if he succeeds, she’s unsteady on her feet and leaking seed. And if there’s losses…. her cunt is almost too sore to close her legs, and her arse has been spanked so raw she can hardly sit comfortably.

But after he returns to his keep, it’s too late. And her womb has already begun to swell. Maegor decides then, why not keep her? He’s certainly grown fond. And why waste a perfectly good cunt and useful womb? A pleasing body along with it.

The poor former peasant is now swollen with this large and imposing king’s possible heir. And it’s no surprise how heavy her belly becomes. It becomes hard for her to walk long distances and she does have no choice but to follow Maegor. Surrendering to him late at night. As her pregnancy hasn’t slowed his desire. He has her on all fours on the bed. Whimpering as his thrusts make her milk heavy breasts shake. Supporting her very full and stretched belly.

She doesn’t know how she manages. The restless movements of the child as her time gets closer. The sheer size to which her womb grows. Maegor’s endless attentions. Maegor decides he wants to be present for the birth. And watches her intently. It’s completely humiliating. First he tricks her, kidnaps her, forces himself on her again and again, now he’s filled her with a massive child and wants to watch her struggle to bring them here.

But despite it all, she’s sturdy. And Maegor does see her succeed in birthing him a child. A living, healthy child. The poor lady is in over her head. She’s not a noble lady. No rich family. So now she lies there exhausted. The king’s child nursing from her. Knowing he won’t be letting her leave any time after this

And her womb won’t stay empty for long

THE HOTTEST! Poor thing has no choice to bend to his whims, especially now he has more control and power. As if it was a thought she could escape him before.

Maegor watches his pretty thing fall asleep before his bright eyes move towards the babe. A self satisfied smirk coming across his face. "Prepare for a wedding." His advisers could only nod; they knew their King would have their tongues if they spoke their true thoughts.

His larger hand slowly strokes her hair before his thumb brushes against his son's cheek and his eyes flicker open

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #9 The Nightgale’s

Imagine this…

Here we have a three-way relationship between Vlad, Maddie, and Jack. The grandfather Clockwork, the children which consist of Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Dani, and a morally gray Fenton clan. The Fenton’s might be descendants of the witches from the Salem trials but what about the name Nightgale?

It was not well-known knowledge that the name Nightgale is a well-known yet old name in the underworld. If you want information, firearms, drugs, protection, and many more it is the Nightgale that you should go as they have been ruling the underground for the past centuries building up their empire from scratch. Ruthless to those they consider their enemies, and saviors to those who are under their care.

Rogues from different parts of the world as well the rogues that the JL members are having trouble as well they pay their respects to the Nightgale’s as the last example namely the Joker disrespected them in the face, got paler, and found at the inch of death and they never mentioned nor crossed territories with them. Lex who tried his shot, almost got an aneurysm due to the fact that a single member of that family merely got to his most secured safe house and waved a black USB in front of him that will destroy him after a tongue lashing as that person explained in the politest voice, he ever heard threatening his entire empire.

…

Danny shouldn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or not, on one hand, his parents had accepted him as Phantom, and the number of tears and hugs involved was never to be talked about again. On the other Vlad’s wish came true, how? well, it was when Vlad realized that the reason, he hated his dad for so long is because he was stuck in the pulling the girl’s pig-tails phase. Instead of elementary, it started during their college time together up until now.

Now that both Maddie and Jack knew that both Danny and Vlad are halfas as well realizing his feelings and being added to the family due to the short and small wedding that the three of them had. Vlad revealed that he has children from Jack, namely Dani, and Dan, which sparked an argument between Maddie and Vlad, something he wouldn’t imagine seeing before, about who made their significant other happier or even loved more.

But the problems of the newly made family don’t end there. GIW agents began appearing more frequently and being more aggressive as they leave a destructive path to find Phantom as they believe that he is the most powerful of them all and needed to be eradicated.

Moving to a place where there is an abundance of ectoplasm in the air well-being able to mask their presence as the rest of the members who isn’t a ghost are infected to a certain degree that the GIW considered them as part of the Anti-Ecto laws. Jack told the family to go back to his birthplace as well going back to the family business to protect themselves from the GIW.

Danny had blinked at that statement he thought that the Fenton’s were descendants of witches that survived the Witch Trials and had made their settlement here in Amity when they had initially escaped.

Jack admitted he never wanted such an environment his future family can get into but seeing that their opponent is the government itself he realized that those secrets from his past can now keep his family safe.

He changed his last name to Fenton when he moved city in hope that their enemies may never find the true heir of the Nightgale’s. Ever since he was a kid, he dreamed of living a normal life with a normal family. Don’t get him wrong he loves the family where he was raised but lives a life where everyone will not kill you nor acknowledge you for having a fancy last name. With the support of his family, he embarked on his journey the moment he turned 14, creating a fake identity complete with paperwork that no one would the keenest eyes can make out whether it is real or fake.

Created a nonexistent identity with history in one of the most secluded areas in the world. Secured an identity and was able to intermingle and blend in with the locals to the point he was considered one of them despite not being a local.

Jack explained that being a normal person is quite hard as he was raised in a quite not-so-normal house. When he saw that being a ghostbuster/ scientist is an actual branch of science he immediately took the subject as his cover for his unusual strength, intelligence as well the fact that carries various exotic-looking weapons that can be brushed off as ways to contain ecto-entities.

What he didn’t think through is to be actually interested in the topic to the point he wrote an entire thesis and book about the so-called ghosts. Nor the fact he was able to create a gateway to another dimension on the said subject, married to people who saw and took interest in the said subject, have his son become that said entity as well having an entire family including him to be dead or infected in some sort of shape or form, he still remembers the way he jokingly thought to himself that he only suppose took as a joke as well being a cover seeing that nobody will actually take him seriously or even suspect him as a Nightgale if he took such career path where they were called mad and a joke by the science community itself.

…

Racing through the roads using the GAV with an injured Vlad and Danny on the tow along with the entire Fenton’s, Jack raced to Gotham with the only people who he thought can help them.

Apparently, Plasmius was caught by the GIW and was in the middle of live dissection when Phantom broke through the door and rescued the Fruit loop, he may still have slight anger issues towards the man for all the troubles he caused for Danny but the fact he was getting better and made his parents happy made him give the Fruit loop one last chance, but he never said that being petty is off the table.

Rushing in without a plan ended up with him being shoot and skewered a bunch of times but it was his supposed step-father’s life on the line here and he wouldn’t dare to give up.

Releasing as well as destroying everything they have on Ghosts is now a requirement to each GIW facility they encountered may also be a factor on why he now has a bleeding shoulder.

Upon entering Gotham borders they were greeted with chaos, Lady Luck was with them that day as well Lady Gotham, there had been a mass Arkham breakout and each Bat is busy containing the destruction and chaos around Gotham that they didn’t see a weirdly shaped vehicle racing through Downtown Gotham.

Lady Gotham had covered the vehicle with her shadows as she had felt her king and his father in great danger and protected the family from his knights and cities by steering away her knights and destroying any cameras that have caught them.

Knocking franticly on a wooden door of a fairly large house at the just edges of the border of Gotham, a lean young man wearing what looks like a butler’s uniform opened the door and was surprised to see Jack carrying a bloodied teen on his arms and an even bloodier man on his back, behind him a multitude of people carrying various emotions like anger, worry, scared and exhaustion in their faces, the mysterious young man immediately ushered the entire group inside the house.

…

Elias Nightgale never thought that he would ever see his son again, nor he expected to have the first meeting between him as well his grandchildren in such a manner.

He knew the existence of his grandchildren as he and Jack had been exchanging letters sick Jack decided to look at the world.

Barking orders his men to guard the premise as well as the group that came with Jack, calling in each of his men to learn everything that his son looks like has hidden from him because last time he checks he used to have only 2 grandchildren it seems now they have multiplied.

Calling in on a family meeting made every Nightgale member from immediate cousins, aunts, and uncles to their great uncles and aunts as well as cousins who were once or thrice removed.

Never once the entire family ever saw the day the current head Elias Nightgale of the Nightgale family ever called for a family emergency family meeting, so they dropped everything and went to the main base where they were greeted by Jack’s family with clear exhaustion and worry etched on their faces.

…

Jack began explaining to his dad what he might forget to write in their monthly exchange of letters.

Explaining about the ghosts, his son and spouse, and additional members as well as having an entire branch of government hunting them down just for existing.

It was twice that Jack had seen such murderous rage painted on his father’s space, first when he was tortured and kidnapped by an opposing group and the 2nd one today.

Elias Nightgale as well as the rest of the family are now ready to raid, destroy and raid everything to the ground, but Jazz had stopped them as attacking them might have the blame put on the ghost and have an entirely powered hero after them.

…

When Danny woke up and had gotten better, he was ushered to meet up with his paternal grandfather. Upon arriving at the study room he took his time to observe each of his family members, he is quite curious when he saw that his grandfather was 6ft at most and now questioned where his dad had gotten his height, but he saw a beautiful yet scarily tall 6 and 12 ft red-haired woman with the brightest hazel eyes he ever saw immediately concluded that she is his grandmother.

They have discussed that while he and his other father were unconscious that it is best to stay at the home of the Nightgale’s to have some sort of protection against the GIW as not only did they have the latest technology but also nobody wanted to mess with the Nightgale’s

…

Jack’s family is now intergraded into the Nightgale’s completely, despite the black dealings around them they didn’t bat an eye, as they have developed morally grey morals from the past years, they even had their own roles.

Jack Nightgale became the head of weapon making, using a new type of energy while masking the ectoplasm signature of it pose a problem but was able to overcome, now the Nightgale’s now have one of the most dangerous weapons that were ever made and begin strictly monitoring each one.

Maddie became part of the assassination section of the Family Business, with a ninth-degree black belt as well as a marksman made her the perfect assassin that specifically hunts down rapists and child murderers as well GIW agents that dared to hunt down their families.

Vlad Masters who is currently on par with being the richest man in the country focused on his business, as much as he loved his in-laws, he made such that Vlad Co. stays up and running as well as able to thrive. They needed a continuous flow of funds to be able to renovate the house to a mini-mansion to accommodate the small family, complete with built-in security from both humans and ghosts.

Dan began training the guards as well as being one of their heavy hitters, always out with a mission for their family as well the one sent out to check on the family’s business and dealings in and out of the country.

Jazz has a normal job as a physiatrist building her own little clinic near Criminal alley during the day but by night she is one of the best information specialists gatherers. In interrogation is where she blossoms playing the minds of her victims into telling her the information they hold.

Danny began his training in both being the heir of the Infinite Realms as well the potential next head of the Nightgale’s, Danny pointed out that he is the middle child but sadly all of his siblings voted him as the next head of the family.  Training that included weapon handling and execution, using and not using his ghost powers as an advantage, briefings with high-profile people, and private instruction from "constitutional experts".

Lastly, Dani, who is un doubly the best spy there is, able to slip into about anything and able to extract information without alerting their intended target. Having the ability to engage with others as naturally, adaptive, and highly functioning as possible. As a spy, social interaction will take numerous forms, requiring her to be comfortable engaging with people from many walks of life.

…

Batman sat in front of the Bat computer for an hour still reviewing the new case about the Nightgale’s.

During his teen years, he was saved by one of their own as his ancestor as well as the first holder of the Wayne name had a long-standing relationship between the Waynes and Nightgale’s, thus saving the heir of the Waynes seemed only right and they have already taken the liberty of torturing and killing his parent’s murderer.

As much as he wanted to cut off any ties the Wayne family between to the Nightgale. It is quite impossible as his family has allotted a considerable size of life debts towards the Nightgale’s and opted to merely watch and observe the family.

It has been a year and a half since their activity has spiked as well as the new cruelty towards specific people who all wore white suits with black shades, having been brutally killed before dumping their bodies. They are still killing people in their usual kills as well as the people who had dared to defy them to the point of extreme torture.

It was also been 6 months since he and his entire family decided to investigate the recent killings of the Nightgales.

It has also been 9 months since Red Hood joined and helped the Nightgale’s in the crusade of killing the people who wore white suits and black shades.

It has also been a year since the new students of the Gotham family aka the Adia siblings namely Jasmine, Danny, and Dani Adia became close friends as civilians of some of the members of the Bat-family.

Just what are the Nightgale's are up to and what are the Adia Siblings hiding?

…

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

[sunfyresrider]

OBSESSION

Synopsis: You were sent to the Vale when the war started and once it ended you were stuck. A proposal was quickly made between you and Lord Arryn as payment for your stay. The new king wouldn't allow this... By any means necessary you would be his.

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader warnings: Dark!Aegon ish, obsessive tendencies, murder, smut, all that fun stuff! word count: 8k note: I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish but your request is here @slayhousehightower <3 Also many many thanks to @annikin-im-panicin for helping me write this dialogue. She is an insanely talented writer, and you should check out her fics!

In the year 131 AC King Aegon II Targaryen successfully burnt his half-sister, the pretender queen, alive in the courtyard of Dragonstone. The war was won but not without great costs to house Targaryen. All of the dragons were dead, except Silverwing who disappeared into Maiden pool, Sheep stealer who flew off with Nettles on his back, and Princess Rhaena’s newly hatched pink dragon. Not only were mostly all the dragons gone but their riders as well. 

Only one child remained of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the little prince Aegon. Baela and Rhaena remained but Corlys had been executed along with Larys Strong for an attempt on the king’s life. Aegon himself remained, half of the man he once was. He was burnt, broken but luckily his legs and cock still worked. 

King Aegon had sacrificed his entire family for the throne. Both his brothers had died for him, his wife took her own life after her two young sons died. His little princess Jaehaera and mother were all that remained. You were another thing he did not sacrifice, he shipped you off to the Vale to be away from the war. 

His kingdom did much better than expected after some tragedy. The young king matured into an almost decent one with the help of his council. Smallfolk and lords alike were quickly rebuilding and repopulating their small kingdoms. In honor of this, a grand ball was to be held. to help him find a match for little Aegon, to find if Jaehaera fancied anyone other than her dolls, and to perhaps see you once again. 

He did try to summon you back home almost immediately, but it wasn’t safe enough yet for his little bird. You were tucked away safely in the mountains far away from harm's way… Aegon wanted his children to go with you, but the gods had other plans. 

Your relationship wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to outsiders. You were the child of King Viserys’s sister, who tragically died trying to birth your brother. After her death, you were adopted into his home. Mainly out of guilt he forced her to marry and move far away from her family. He blamed himself as he did with Aemma. 

You were raised alongside Aegon and though to onlookers you never seemed close, he thought otherwise. Perhaps, it was a bit obsessive how he felt, a little wrong to anyone on the outside. He had a wife and yet he only ever yearned for you. Aegon craved you like he did wine, an addiction that he couldn’t be satisfied without. 

He never did get you. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because you were too dear for him to sully. Instead, he sullied whores who resembled you. It worked until his wife died and he needed another heir. You were unmarried, only because the war started right as you turned of age to be wed and bedded.

You were finally, in the eyes of the kingdom, ready to be his. He had waited for this moment since you were teens. Aegon watched you carefully growing up, kept his distance as best he could. The restraint it took him not to succumb to his desires and ravish you was impossibly difficult. 

Every time you approached him his mind raced with wondrous fantasies. Your sweet voice carried like a song, which is why he called you little bird. Your long hair flowed perfectly to your waist and smelled divine. Not sweet like vanilla, sweet like a bouquet of flowers. Sometimes he would purposely stand close behind just so he could be surrounded by your scent. 

Your face was truly a sight to behold, so beautiful yet so unaware of it. You were almost of perfect northern beauty, except for the pale blue eyes of your mother that bore into the soul of everyone who caught your gaze. Aegon never quite got the chance to truly see your body, without a doubt you were shorter than him and so very small. He feared if he touched you, you might break into pieces.  

The feel of your delicate hands touching him was seared into his mind forever. You rarely touched but one day he had the opportunity to escort you to dinner and the feel of your soft hands on his arm nearly made him crazy. 

You didn’t have the traditional Targaryen looks, you resembled more of your father’s family. He loved that about you, the way you were opposite to him in everything. Where he was wanton and wicked you were kind and pure. Not too pure, occasionally he would peek in through the cracks of your doors and see you attempting to ease the ache between your legs. You obviously didn’t understand it because you never succeeded, he vowed to help you with that one day. 

Your chest was not as small and delicate as the rest of you, though it was not huge like the whores on the street. Occasionally, when the weather got hot and you wore lighter clothing, he could see your breast barely peek out of the top of your corset.

 Another thing to drive him mad, if he could see it so could any other vile man. You didn’t realize how perfect you were, you didn’t realize you caught the gaze of every person with a cock. He could kill them now though, so it didn’t matter as much but back then. Oh, he would be practically fuming inside his chambers. The mere thought of another man hearing your laugh, smelling your scent, seeing your gaze, feeling your touch, or worst of all fucking you made him want to burn the entire kingdom down. 

This was all in the past though, now that he was king no man would come near you or so he thought. 

-

Your time in the Vale was comforting even though there was a literal war happening around you. Of course, you cried for the dead and the destruction that was caused to the realm, but it had been a few years. Things had started to look up for the kingdom with the new king. 

That was something you wished to brag about but didn’t. Your friend was king, and he wasn’t as terrible a ruler as everyone thought! It was nice to hear that Aegon, the once wastrel, had grown into a good man. You desperately missed your family that you would never see again… You may not ever see Aegon again and though you weren’t close you considered him a friend. In your mind, the war wasn’t truly worth it and choosing sides is why everything fell apart so quickly. 

It wasn’t time to dwell on the past. There were better things happening in your life that took your full attention. The Vale had almost fully become your home and everyone around you was so nice. Especially the heir, Ser Joffrey Arryn who recently succeeded Jeyne after her death. It didn’t come as a surprise you were betrothed shortly after his accession. 

He had spent the most amount of time with you and fawned over you like no other. At first, you thought you would hate the prospect of marriage and your husband, but you came to enjoy him.  He wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, no defining traits to make him special but he was kind and gentle. Joffrey was also a good warrior so you would always be protected.

Today wasn’t any different from most days. You were in your own world as you strolled around the Eyrie. It got quite chilly up in the mountains, but it didn’t bother you as much. To be honest, it reminded you of your old home when you were a child, and your mother was still alive. 

Before you could dwell on the past for too long a hand touched your shoulder catching your attention. “Lord Joffrey,” you breathed out in shock. He grinned, “apologies for startling princess. I have word from King’s landing I thought you’d like to hear.” Your smile grew bright at the idea Aegon had summoned you home. “Yes please, if it wouldn’t bother you.” He chuckled slightly, “no need to be so polite we’re betrothed now.” 

Ah yes, it slipped your mind for a moment. “Of course, my apologies.” Joffrey took your hand in his, “The King sends a royal invitation to the Maiden’s Day ball. The young prince Aegon, the king and princess Jaehaera are all looking for potential suitors.” It wasn’t a direct summon nor was it really a summon at all. Maybe you weren’t friends as it seemed, they did leave you in the Vale for three years. “Will we be attending?” 

“Only if you wish it, princess.” The title of princess didn’t suit you very well. You were merely a daughter of a dead king’s sister. “Don’t call me that, you know my name.” He patted your hand, “Ok y/n, do you wish to attend?” You hadn’t been back to King’s Landing in such a long time. Not only that but all those you once called family or friends were gone. Except Aegon but you doubted he really remembered you at all. Being back might bring forth some unwanted memories… unwanted feelings. 

“Do you think there will be lemon cakes?” Joffrey laughed at your simple yet undeniably love for cakes. There weren’t any lemon cakes in the Vale, so the chance to taste them again was the driving factor in returning. “Absolutely, those are most ladies' favorites.” You nodded, mostly to yourself, “We should attend then!” 

-

“Do we know who all will be attending?” The king spoke to his new small council. It was made up of both blacks and greens, though he never quite was able to fully trust the ones who pledged against him in the war he allowed them to live. A merciful act to make him look better than he actually was. “Many great houses will be attending… Baratheon, Bolton, Redwyne, Royce, and even the daughters of Pentos, Lys, Myr….” He completely zoned out as the names were being listed and none of them sounded like the Vale. “What of the Eyrie? Will they be presenting any maidens?” 

The council members glanced at each other and thought to themselves. “I believe the new Lord Arryn will be coming with his betrothed, but we hadn’t heard word otherwise.” So, you weren’t coming after all, he would just have to send you a personal invitation then. Never in his life had he met a woman so hard to get a hold of. “Your cousin, your Grace.” His attention peaked again, “what of her?” The master of coin raised a brow at him, “If you meant to ask about your cousin. Y/N is Lord Arryn’s betrothed so she will be attending.” 

He felt his stomach clench, his nerves run through with an all-consuming dread. No dread wasn’t enough, it was more than that. He felt numb, his body tingling with the feeling. Not rage, no envy, no fury. Just this feeling of overwhelming helplessness. The sounds around him were all muffled, all he could hear was ringing. The sounds of wedding bells, the most disgusting sound he ever heard.

The wicked king, that’s what the whispers said about him and oh he could show them how wicked he truly was. “Who allowed this to happen?!” The room went dead silent as the members stared in disbelief. “Uh…your grace, it was a decision made by the lady Jeyne during the war. We had no part in it.” That fucking cunt. “As king, I should be the one making the decision on who my kin wed.” 

That wasn’t necessarily true at all. In fact, it would be considered a payment for letting her stay there for so long. It simply wouldn’t fucking do. “I believe that is something we should discuss with the lord himself, your grace.” 

“That we shall.” 

-

The Maiden’s Day ball was truly an event for all ages it seemed. Thousands piled into the streets and keep of King’s Landing. All of whom were vying for the love of the king or young prince. Many women may not even be here by choice, their greedy fathers simply wished to use them as a pawn for power. 

It was too crowded, far too crowded for your liking. The dress you wore wasn’t even that heavy and yet it felt like it was on fire. You were one of the lucky ones who arrived a week early, after a personal invitation from the king who demanded you visit prior to the affair. 

Your nerves were completely shot to say the least. You never did enjoy large crowds or grandiose affairs. It was a struggle when your carriage pulled into the courtyard and instantly was swarmed by a welcome party of guards, a very “warm” welcome indeed. They opened the carriage door in a hurry and rushed you out. One grabbed you by the arm and the other snatched up Lord Arryn. There was a bit of resistance, but it failed as the guard said it was simply to protect you both from the large crowds. 

It felt like whiplash how quickly you were pulled out and into the keep and thrown into a room. Not literally thrown but the rush made it feel as such. “What the hell was that?” Joffrey asked while trying to calm himself down. “Mayhaps the king did it so we wouldn’t be suffocated by the people.” You took a deep breath and sat down on the settee. It was much calmer inside than it was out. “I hadn’t realized this many people would be here already. I can’t imagine how crowded it’ll be the day of.” 

“The king and prince are looking for wives, it makes sense so many would come.” A sting in your gut caught your attention. Not this, not after all these years, you thought to yourself. There was a time as a young girl you fancied Aegon but that was long ago when he was merely an unmarried prince. He was now a widowed king with far too many suitors, all of which were less plain featured than you. 

You had Joffrey and he was good. That was all you truly needed, not a childhood crush that never was confessed. “Are you alright, love? You look sickly.” You fell back on the bed and let out an exasperated sigh, “it’s too hot in the south.” 

-

Aegon raced to your chambers after the announcement of your arrival. Although it didn’t need to be announced because he was watching intently from his window. Whilst on his way to your chambers he was interrupted at every corner. Another thing he hated about being king, there was no such thing as peace. 

One thing he had chosen to do today was to bring Jaehaera along with him. Aegon loved his little princess dearly and there was no way you couldn’t. You hadn’t seen each other since she was six and now, she is nearly nine. If you wouldn’t spend time with him, he knew you would surely spend time with her. Was this a manipulative thing to do? Mayhaps. But would it get him closer to wedding you? Absolutely. Besides, Jaehaera needed a motherly figure desperately after the loss of her own. 

“Do you remember her, little love?” he quizzed the girl before knocking on your door. She didn’t speak much anymore, only to himself and his mother. A quick nod confirmed she did in fact remember you. Aegon was drunk most of her early childhood, but he had faint memories of you playing dolls with her to give Helaena a break after Maelor was born. Maelor, a hole reappeared in his chest at the thought. 

Both of his sons were gone in the most horrific ways imaginable. His innocent sons who were barely old enough to talk properly. He should have been there; he should have been a better father. The bile in his gut began to rise to his throat and his eyes burned with tears threatening to fall. 

“Are you going to knock?” The little voice snapped him back into the present. He cleared his throat and knocked. You sat up in bed and groaned. “What is it now?” Joffrey stopped unpacking his things and walked to the door, “we’ll see.” 

The door opened and Aegon’s smile fell flat. The single sparkle in his eye died out. “Your grace, how may I help you?” Gods, he was the most plain-featured man he had ever laid eyes upon. Even his voice was dull in sound, nothing like the way you spoke. He wanted, no needed to kill him as soon as possible. 

“Aegon?” You sprang out of bed and pushed the door wider to reveal yourself. He looked so different from how you remembered. His hair was slicked back, and the edge of face was scarred from burns, he was still handsome, just not in the same way. 

“Hi,” a voice from below caught your attention. “Princess Jaehaera?! My look how you’ve grown!” You purposefully ignored the stare down happening between your soon to be husband and Aegon. Out of sight, out of mind, you reminded yourself. 

Aegon took a deep breath and broke first. “Y/N, how good it is to see you again.” He let go of Jaehaera’s hand and immediately went to embrace you. You stuttered for a moment before allowing him to pull you close. Your hair still smelled of sweet flowers and your skin remained as smooth as silk. “I’ve missed you; it has been too long.” His eyes bore into your betrothed and a small curve formed in his lips. You hear that cunt? She had missed me, he thought. 

“Do you want to come to the gardens with us?” Jaehaera stared into your soul, you didn’t remember her eyes being so intense. “If the king wouldn’t mind,” you smiled. Aegon pulled back and offered his arm to you, “please we have much to catch up on.” His eyes rarely left the dull man behind you. “Please return safely, my love.” Lord Arryn stared daggers back at the king. 

The minds of men continued to be confusing and impossible to comprehend. 

-

The gardens were not as beautiful as you remembered. An unseen darkness loomed over what you used to consider your sanctuary. The side effects of war and death, you presumed. Jaehaera did not seem to notice as she ran in front of you both. A darkness loomed over them too, but it seemed over time they had grown accustomed to the feeling. 

One thing in particular that had changed was the little girl's adoration for you. In the past she clung to her brother or Helaena and paid you no mind unless you were alone. Now she was trying to get your attention as she pointed to various flowers and insects that caught her eye. She was her mother’s daughter in every way. 

You weren’t paying much attention to Aegon as you were too nervous to make eye contact. Every time turned to glance at him, he was already looking which sent a subtle flush to your cheeks. You told yourself it wasn’t because he was more handsome with his scars and instead because he was now king. Anyone would be nervous around someone with the highest status in the realm…

It didn’t help that his arm intertwined with yours burned into your skin. You hadn’t felt that since you danced with him when you were much younger. He had this special ability to make every girl feel flustered. You weren’t special, just another one fallen prey to his charm. Aegon wasn’t that charming once you got to know him though so the fact you still were melting under his gaze made little sense. 

You had a lovely husband to be waiting for you. These thoughts were simply because of his new status and the years spent apart. Yes, that was the only reason you felt a shiver down your spine when he touched your lower back to move you along faster. 

Gods, you were even more beautiful in the light of day. Aegon hadn’t realized how much you would grow in such a short time apart. You were still much shorter than he was, but you had really come into yourself. Though you retained your innocent youthful look perfectly. Your lips were plumper than he remembered as well as other things. It felt like he was staring at a meal ready to be devoured. 

His daughter enjoyed your presence more than he anticipated. A familiar woman’s face drew out the child she once was. This plan was working far better than he imagined it would. “She's quite taken with you. Imagine one of our own clinging to your skirts as she does. How beautiful they would be, like their mother.”

“I hadn’t given that much thought,” you smiled. Your own children clinging to your skirts. There was a time where you used to cling to your mothers before your brother ripped her open. The birthing bed was the cause of death for many women in the realm. It never excited you thinking about having your own. In fact, you would have preferred marrying someone who already had heirs. You wouldn’t mind being a second wife and stepmother as long as it meant you didn’t have to risk your life making your own. 

“Does having Lord Arryn’s children not suit your fancy?” His question caught you off guard and brought the heat to your cheeks. "Oh…um … I haven’t really thought about that either.” You laughed nervously, unsure of what else to say.

He squeezed your hand tighter. "You’re not married yet," he reminded you softly, knowing the answer was obvious. You didn’t want to have his children but were lying to yourself. You still could not lie to save your own life. “If you don’t want to marry him you only need to give me the word,” he said nonchalantly.

"There aren’t many other options… and lord Arryn is kind enough.” You tried to sound confident, but inside you wanted to scream. He just gave you an escape, but you knew it too good to be true. If you didn’t marry this nice man, you would be shipped off to a crueler one. “He’s dull and plain featured,” Aegon snorted.

“I’m plain featured too,” you lightly slapped his arm. "Not like that, he’s a plain piece of bread. You’re one of the fancy kinds with different fruits atop it." You chuckled to yourself, he just compared you to bread, “You’re so full of it!” You giggled.

His laughter joined with yours as his eyes sparkled. "Maybe I prefer plain girls," he admitted. For a moment your heart seemed to pause in its place and all the blood pumping through your veins stopped with it. A subtle flush rose into your cheeks as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. He couldn’t mean you, you were delusional to even think that for a second.  “I’m sure there will be plenty to choose from on maiden’s day.” 

“They aren’t the same as the woman I desire.” You glanced up at him as he smiled. Maybe you weren’t as delusional as you thought.

-

He had to handle Lord Arryn as quickly as possible. Aegon thought of several ways to dispose of this nuisance that invaded what little personal joy he had left. He could feed him to Sunfyre but that would become too public of a spectacle. Mayhaps he could push him onto the spikes under Maegor’s Holdfast and claim it was an ‘accident’… It would be too obvious. 

He went to visit Joffrey himself, leaving you with Jaehaera. Aegon brought a simple bottle of wine to congratulate him on his success. The light from the window shone brightly against the cobbled floor, it was such a grand day Aegon couldn’t hide his own smile. 

When Joffrey opened the doors and saw the king standing outside he nearly stumbled back. It was a surprise to say the least since you had not returned, “Your Grace, how may I help you?”  Aegon smiled brightly and took a step inside, “May I sit?” Lord Arryn nodded and let the king inside his chambers, the fool. 

Aegon sat across from him and pulled out the bottle he had so delicately made for him. “I’ve brought a gift! To celebrate your upcoming wedding.” Aegon held the bottle aloft in front of him, waiting for a response. “You’re too kind, your grace.” 

“Please, drop the formalities. We’re going to be family soon.” Joffrey smiled and accepted the bottle of wine. He poured himself a cup and downed it in one go, the fool. He looked over the rim and asked, "Are you going to drink, your grace? I’ve heard you enjoy your reds.” Aegon smiled, “No, mayhaps if you asked me a few years ago I would have.” 

"I appreciate your gift and your kindness towards my betrothed. She was very happy to be home,” he coughed. “This is where she belongs. Of course, she would be happier here.” Joffrey brows furrowed before he coughed once more. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Aegon grinned, “I only mean that she belongs here with me. Not in some shit castle in the north.” Lord Arryn’s coughs grew louder before he took another sip of the wine to ease his throat. “Do you really think insulting my kingdom and threatening to steal my wife will get you anywhere? All it will bring is war to your doorstep.” 

Aegon hummed to himself, “I’m ready for another.” Joffrey stood up out of his chair and coughed into his sleeve. “You won’t win, you know that? Are you really going to die for some cunt.” The crazed look Aegon wore when he burnt Rhaenyra came back. His eyes widened, pupils dilated, and a smirk that resembled the devil himself graced his face. “Someone is.” 

A small stream of blood fell from Joffrey’s nose, he lifted his hand to touch it and his eyes blew up in fear. Aegon stood and his ears quickly filled with the sound of Lord Arryn coughing on his own bile. Joffrey fell on the ground, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Aegon strode over to go hover above him and watch. It gave him a sick satisfaction that nothing else could.  

Joffrey raised his hand to try and grasp at Aegon, he failed. His coughs turned into wheezes as life slowly drained from his eyes. “It was good to meet you, Lord Arryn. I do hope the seven hells treat you well.” 

-

Aegon shouldn’t have been so cheerful when a shriek loud enough the deaf could hear echoed throughout the keep. The guards were the first to find you and quickly pulled you away from the scene. He rushed to go and ‘comfort’ you and find out what had exactly happened. 

You were gagging nearly to the point of throwing up when he came back. Your sobs were louder than the king’s guards scurrying about to hide the incident. It wasn’t a cry of grief; he had seen that too many times to know otherwise. It was disgust and horror at the corpse which he would admit looked ghastly. 

It wasn’t his intention to traumatize you. It didn’t matter now because you were right where he wanted you. A grief-stricken woman in need of comfort. “What happened! Your king demands an answer!” You briefly stopped crying and glanced over. Your feet moved before you could form another thought. You rushed into his arms and laid your head on his chest.

It was a welcome surprise to say the least. Aegon wrapped his arms around you and placed a hand on your hair, gently combing it with his fingers. “Y-your grace, we found him dead just moments ago.” A king’s guard nervously bowed in front of him. “You swore to protect my blood and yet my cousin's husband lay dead! How useless are you?” Another king’s guard came out, “Your Grace, we’ve begun investing but I believe a maester is needed… it looks like poison.” 

“Deal with this… quickly!” Aegon’s shouts turned into soft coos as he walked away with you. It was hard to hide the smirk creeping onto his face. He blissfully ignored the stares he was getting in the corridors and led you right into his room. He wasn’t going to take advantage of… just comfort you. 

“Little bird, it’ll be alright. I’m here now.” You glanced up and spoke through sniffles, “I-I’ve never se-seen a dead man before.” He rubbed the tears off your face gently with his thumb. “Shh, you’re okay.” Your eyes fell to the ground unable to look at him. Letting him see you sob was too embarrassing. “Oh Aegon… it was so awful.” 

He pulled you back in and petted your hair some more. Aegon rested his chin atop your head and let your panic fade. He was so gentle, so loving, it was unexpected. “Do you know what helped me, little bird?” You pulled back again and wiped the remaining tears from your face. A small chuckle escaped your lips, “wine?” 

“I was going to say company but wine too.” His lips curled into a rare genuine smile. “My apologies, your grace.” Aegon looked pained at the use of his formal title. You were his friend, his future queen, there wasn’t any need to act as if he was your superior. “Stop that, please. It’s Aegon, just Aegon.” 

“Ok, Aegon. What do you propose I do to feel better.” He hummed to himself before walking off into the direction of the other side of the room. You stood there awkwardly, occasionally glancing over to him wondering what he was doing.  He came back with two goblets of what you assumed to be wine… “Tonight, little bird, we drink!”

It took only an hour for Aegon to learn you absolutely could not handle your liquor. One moment you were crying and the next you were sprawled out on his bed laughing hysterically over a spilt glass of wine. It was the freest spirited you had ever acted. 

He climbed onto the bed next to you and rested his head on his hand. In your drunken stupor you leaned over and gazed up at him with your big eyes. He loved your eyes, though cold most of the time when you were alone, they sparkled like diamonds. “You know, me five years ago would not believe myself if I said I was in bed with a king.” 

Aegon raised a brow, “In bed? What unholy things are you talking about?” You giggled, “stop teasing! Five years ago, I would not have imagined my childhood crush sitting on the iron throne.” His eyes widened, “Crush? On me?” You seemed to stop listening and your gaze shifted to the ceiling. “I don’t want to marry a lord…” He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “But now my fiancé is dead, so I’ll have to marry some nobody.” 

Aegon started speaking quickly so you couldn’t interrupt. “No, no no, you won’t be doing that. What do you say about having a crush?” Your eyes began to feel heavy, and his voice began lulling you to sleep. You sighed, “I would have married you, Aegon. If I was able to back, then.” 

“We can marry now!” His heart felt as though it sprang from his chest. Aegon rose up from his place and leaned over so he was directly above you. “Hey, hey, y/n, did you mean that?” He gently grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “Little bird? How did you-”

He let out a sigh as he stared at your sleeping form. Your breathing sounded like angels singing in his ears. Your sleeping form looked like the maiden herself sprawled out on his bed. Gods, he felt pathetic thinking about how in love he was with you. He leaned in close and whisper, “tomorrow is a big day little bird... Sweet dreams, syz rina.” Aegon placed a single quick, too soft to feel, kiss on your lips. 

-

You awoke late this morrow, it felt like your chambers were on fire and the light shone too brightly. Last night was a hellish event, a dead fiancé on your chambers floor and little explanation. You remember vividly going to Aegon’s room, drinking with him, sharing small talk, then everyone turned fuzzy and now you’re back in your chambers. 

It was worrisome to say the least. You weren’t afraid he had hurt you, there was no signs of that. But what could you have said? How did you end up back in your room? And why in the seven hells did your head hurt so badly?

Three knocks sounded the servants coming in to get you ready. Why are they…? Oh! It was the day of the ball. You tried to roll out of bed and quickly realized this was not going to be an easy day. 

Aegon had sent too many servants to help you get dressed and bathe. Too many choices of dresses and all were far too fancy for a lady with no family or house. You should be wearing black to mourn Lord Arryn, but it seemed the king had other plans. 

He had remembered your favorite colors after all this time. The dress was a beautiful pale pink and blue, made of a fine silk you hadn’t seen before. The corset was lined with golden embroidery and the skirt had at least ten layers. The shoulders were puffed out and the sleeves were lined with white lace. You looked like royalty instead of the cousin of one. 

The maids left quickly after they painfully fixed your hair and attempted to make your face look appealing. You stood in the mirror chanting to yourself words of encouragement. It didn’t make sense why you were so nervous for this, but you were. When you built up enough courage to leave your chambers and push your way into the throne room you were immediately stopped. Gods be good, the last thing you needed was any type of socializing. 

“Lady Y/N, my deepest condolences for your late fiancé.” The voice that rang in your ear was none other than Floris Baratheon. You turned and forced a polite smile, “News travels fast around here, I appreciate your sympathies.” She gave you no time to continue before she looped her arm into yours. “Will you walk with me? I fear I’ve lost all my sisters in the noise.” 

“Of course.” She smiled brightly and began guiding you through the crowd. “I would have thought you would be wearing black.” You would have been if it wasn’t for him. “It was only a betrothal. I don’t recall you wearing black after Prince Aemond’s death.” Her false smile faltered slightly, “You're right. How foolish of me to forget…” 

“One failed potential marriage will not be the end of us, Floris.” You patted her hand and avoided looking at her directly. “You’re absolutely right, women like us should stick together…  In fact, if all goes well, we may be cousins soon.” She was trying to get close with you so she could be the next queen. You froze in place, your body overflowing with anger. For what, you weren’t quite sure, but her words triggered something within you.

Floris’ posture was ramrod straight as you narrowed her eyes at her, “Oh my sweet, you have no idea what he will do to you,” you began, circling her and gripping her arm - too tight to be friendly. “Do you remember what happened to his sister?” You asked, voice sickly sweet; Floris nodded meekly. “He captured her at Dragonstone and had her dragged to the courtyard. Aegon burned her alive and forced her own son to watch. Then he let Sunfyre devour her, leaving only a leg. His own flesh and blood brutally murdered.” You asked pointedly, letting go of the painful grip on Floris’ arm as you brushed past her down the hall.

 Before Floris could turn to scamper away, you turned back to her to deliver the final blow, “You ever refer to me as cousin again I’ll burn you alive.” You watched her scurry off with a foul taste in your mouth. The day you were used as a way to get close to the king was the day the dead rose from the grave. 

-

The throne room was packed to the brim with maidens from across the seven kingdoms. It was beyond suffocatingly hot, nothing at all like a real ball. A few had already fainted, and one poor soul died from an unknown cause. You stood off to the side simply observing what was going on. 

Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of your late-fiance’s apparent suicide. The stench of his corpse and the position in which he laid branded your mind and left no room for any other thoughts to come to fruition. Except for thoughts of the king. 

There was an uneasy feeling in your gut, you couldn’t explain what it was, but it felt like the color green. Not green like illness, green like envy. You weren’t sure why you felt this. Unwin Peake tapped his cane on the floor three times announcing the king’s present. The whispers that filled the room quickly dissipated. Trumpets sounded as the crowd cleared and Aegon walked to the throne. Followed by two little bushes of silver hair, obviously the children. 

“For the good of his people, His Grace must take another wife, though no woman will ever replace our beloved Helaena in his heart. Many have been put forward for this honor, the fairest flowers of the realm. Whichever girl King Aegon weds shall be the Alysanne to his Jaehaerys, the Jonquil to his Florian. She will sleep by his side, birth his children, share his labors, soothe his brow when he is sick, grow old with him. Let the maidens from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms present themselves before the king, so His Grace may choose the one best suited to share his life and love.” 

The announcement echoed throughout the hall and the musicians began playing. A thousand men and their daughters were packed into the throne room presenting themselves one by one. 

The first group were the daughters from the sister cities, Myr, Pentos, and Tyrosh. The girls looked to be what you assumed Aegon’s type was though he looked completely unamused. The next were the Baratheon girls, unsurprisingly Floris did not show her face. 

“You look unamused, lady Y/N.” The voice from behind made you roll your eyes. You truly did not want to be bothered any longer. “This is more of a cattle show than a ball, Mushroom.” He moved up so he was standing right next to you. Mushroom, the court jester and dwarf were a notorious gossip spreader and pain in the ass. “I’d have to agree. Although each lady looks quite beautiful… It would be hard to picture anything more beautiful, unless perhaps all of them had arrived naked.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a sigh. “Already women have been scandalized, injured, fainted, and one just died. It doesn’t seem worth all the bother.” He peered up at you with a knowing look and let out a soft chuckle. “Of course, it would seem that way to you. You’ve already won the king’s favor.” 

You scoffed, “you are truly a jester.” The sounds of hushed whispers surrounded you. A new princess was being displayed and apparently, she was truly the definition of beauty. You tried to peak over the crowd to see who it was but failed. “Mushroom! Who is that?” When there was no response, you looked down at your feet and noticed he was gone… damned fool. 

You pushed your way through the crowd but as you got to the front the people erupted once more. “Aegon has found his little queen!” The words made your lip quiver and your heart sink deep within your chest. You sank back into the crowd and felt the urge to vomit. “That’s Daenaera Velaryon, she just turned six years of age.” The voice beside you whispered to their father and your illness stopped.

She’s six! Aegon was marrying a child! There was no way in the seven hells that could be true. With a newfound anger you shoved the people in front of you out of your way. Their celebrations slowly came to a halt. Until Floris the cunt, pushed you from behind so hard you stumbled into the clearing and in front of the throne. 

Embarrassment heated up your cheeks as you peered around at the people staring. You quickly jumped to your feet and went to scurry off in shame, “Wait!” The king’s voice rang like a siren in your ears. You slowly turned and bowed, trying to hide the redness on your face. 

“My nephew has chosen his bride and I will choose mine!” He stood from the throne and walked down to the bottom step. The crowd went silent in anticipation, he stared directly at you with a mischievous smile plastered on his face. Wait? His nephew chose a bride. “I, King Aegon, second of his name, present to the court the lady y/n, my bride and your future queen!” 

Aegon had plotted claiming you in front of the masses so no one else would dare try to win you over. Nor would they keep pestering him to marry one of the hags presented before him. His smile was bright, and his eyes sparkled with genuine joy for the first time in ages. 

You stood there with your mouth agape, and body frozen in place. What? Who? Bride? Queen? The music began to roar, and the mob burst into celebration once more. You felt the hands of people patting your back and heard the sounds of them wishing you well. What? Who? Bride? Queen? 

You were not one to use profanities often but what the fuck just happened?

-

Aegon watched you scurry off before he could approach you. Each time he tried to leave he was pulled back by another lord or his own mother. You didn’t seem to upset, mayhaps a little shocked. The sounds around him were muffled as he waited for the opportunity to chase after you. Hours, it took hours before he could finally seek sanctuary in your arms.

He didn’t bother knocking, Aegon barged in without thinking. His excitement completely clouded any manners he was raised with. You weren’t there, he paused where he stood and glanced around. Your dress was discarded on the floor and the bed was a mess. His mind went to the worst-case scenario. 

Your bathing chambers, he slammed the door open, and you dropped to the floor. “Seven hells! Aegon what the fuck!” You quickly pulled your robe over your body to save whatever modesty you had left. His heart stopped racing and he let out a deep breath. You weren’t fucking someone; you were just bathing… Naked. 

“You left so quickly; I worried you got sick.” He strode over to you and offered you, his hand. You pushed it away and stood up, “I’m so- Aegon- what were you thinking?! Announcing our marriage and failing to inform me?!” His smile faltered, “I thought you wanted to marry me.” 

Oh gods, there were those sad puppy eyes he used to get his way. “No! I mean yes, but no! Aeg-” He grabbed your arm, yanking you close and pressing his lips roughly onto yours. He surprised you again, this time you weren’t the one to pull back first. “Do you love me?” You spoke breathlessly, “I-” He squeezed your arms tighter, his voice laced with desperation. “Y/N, don’t you love me?”

The feeling of his breath on your neck sent chills down your spine. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut as he stared at you, lips parted slightly. You were going to be husband and wife soon…

It was you who jumped and pressed your mouth into his. You kissed him fiercely, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He didn’t return the affection at first, surprised by your sudden interest. However, when you tried to back away, he pulled you back in. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped into yours. It was a different sensation but not unwelcome. 

His hands moved from your waist to cup your ass. You shuddered in his hold as he ground himself against your thigh. You broke the kiss first, panting heavily. You gazed up to see him gazing up at you hungrily. Aegon acted quicker than you could think. He picked you up off the ground, eliciting a yelp from you and immediately moved you to the bed. 

He placed you down on the bed as gently as he could, pressing his lips against yours so you couldn’t protest. Your legs wrapped around his waist; all of his fantasies were being fulfilled. His lips slid down to your jaw, gently kissing it before he moved to your neck. He nipped on your neck, and you squirmed under him.

A wetness formed in between your legs as he sucked on your skin. It was a new ache that caused you to whimper under him, pressing yourself against him harder to relieve the tension. He let his fingers run up the curves of your body until he reached the sleeves of your down. Gently, he slipped one off your shoulder and placed soft kisses on your bare skin. 

Shivers shot up your spine as he slowly pulled it off. The wait was agonizing, the throbbing between your legs getting worse by every movement he made. When he finally freed your breast from the fabric you sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment. Your nipples hardened at the feeling of the cool air on your heated skin. 

He slid his lips down your chest until he reached your breast. He circled each nipple with his tongue, flicking them lightly before sucking them into his mouth. You gasped and arched your back, soft whimpers filling his ear. Aegon’s hand traveled down your robe and to your core. 

You gasped as he touched you, the need burning inside you, growing more intense by the second. He began teasing your folds with his finger, swirling it around your entrance until he hit something sensitive. A small moan escaped his lips, and he pressed his finger against your clit. You buckled and he laughed against your breast, biting on your nipple. 

With every touch his cock grew harder and longer, pushing into your leg as if begging for attention.  He was a caring man so he would handle that later. Aegon lifted his head from your breast and kissed you one final time, biting your lip. 

He pushed himself off the bed and yanked you to the edge. A small gasp escaped your lips as he spread your legs and wrapped them around his shoulder. Aegon sucked on your inner thighs, surely leaving marks. He then slid his tongue upwards; his mouth reached your bud and pressed a quick kiss to it. You whimpered, begging for him to touch you more. 

He slid one finger inside you and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. You cried out, arching your hips towards him. “You’re so wet… so you do love me.” He whispered into your center. Finally, he pressed his lips against you and began lapping his tongue around your clit. 

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve in your body tingling. He pressed another finger inside and moved his tongue around your bud faster, adding pressure to your entrance. You dug your nails into his shoulder, unable to stop your cries from escaping.

Your insides began to clench around his fingers and an unknown sensation began taking over your senses. His movements slowed, “Do you love me?” You whimpered at the loss of his tongue trying to pull him back. “Do you, y/n?” He pushed his fingers into you harshly, “Yes! I love you!” 

You could feel him smile as he began sucking on your bud. The pleasure quickly became too much, and a moan escaped you. Your back arched and your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, consuming you in its wake. 

He pulled out his finger but didn’t stop suckling at your sensitive bud until your legs were twitching around him. Aegon pulled himself away from you and crawled onto the bed. His cock was aching, already it started to leak out precut, surely staining his pants. As he gently pressed his lips against yours, he began unbuttoning his trousers. Quickly freeing his cock from the tightness. 

Aegon grabbed you once again and pulled you close, pressing his hardening length against your center. You looked up at him with wide eyes, watching as he moved closer until the tip of his cock brushed against your opening. “I’ll be gentle, little bird. I promise.” You whimpered as he pushed against you again, this time slipping in just the tip.

“Seven hells…” He moaned against your lips. He slid into you slowly, his cock stretching out your insides until he filled you completely. Your grip on him tightened and you bit into his shoulder. He let out a soft moan as he slowly began thrusting inside you. 

His pace was slow at first, allowing your body to adjust to his size. But it was quickly growing more intense by the second. His large hands gripped your waist tightly and Aegon’s face was twisted with ecstasy. He buried himself within you and began pounding inside you.

"You're so tight... such a good girl for me.” He picked up the pace, slamming into you and making sure you felt every inch of his cock. Your breath quickened and you began moaning loudly. Anyone within a mile of you could hear the lewd sounds coming from your bedroom. A symphony of your moans, his groans and the sound of your wet skin slapping against each other. 

Your arms pulled him closer, you kissed him, and he responded in kind, pushing himself deep inside you and grinding against your clit. The feeling from before was coming but much more intense. Your mind got lost in a haze of pleasure each time his cock hit your clit it sent waves through you, leaving you breathless.

Your cunt began clenching around him, a growl escaped his lips as he continued his movements. Every stroke left you trembling on the edge of your orgasm, ready to release all your new built-up tension. His thrusts became sloppy, and his groans turned into high pitched moans. 

Your climax hit you in waves causing you to cry out. The sensation overwhelmed your mind, leaving you dizzy and weak. You couldn't even speak right as your walls spasmed around his cock, gripping him tightly.  Aegon’s final thrust was hard, a warm feeling enveloped your insides. He spilt his seed as deep as he could into your womb. 

He laid down next to you pulling you closer to him. Aegon brushed the hair out of your face and kissed you softly. He pulled back and grinned, “wife...” You smiled back weakly, “husband…” He stared at you adoringly, a light chuckle escaping his throat.

“What are we going to do about the bedding ceremony?”

[nanshe-of-nina]

Women’s History Meme || Empresses (2/5) ↬ Catherine de Valois-Courtenay (before 15 April 1303 – October 1346)

The official Neapolitan investigation into Andrew of Hungary’s murder targeted Johanna’s closest supporters and left her isolated and vulnerable. Her aunt, Catherine of Valois, took advantage of that vulnerability to become the queen’s confidant in order to make certain that one of her sons would be Naples’s next king. At first, it appeared that this son would be Robert, the eldest of the Tarantini, who for a time seemed to be winning the competition between the Angevin princes for power and whom Johanna requested a papal dispensation to marry. Soon, however, Louis gained the upper hand, and Johanna’s requests for dispensations began to identify him as her intended. — From She-Wolf to Martyr: The Reign and Disputed Reputation of Johanna I of Naples by Elizabeth Casteen Of the many relatives who chose to avail themselves of the glittering social whirl of the capital, one stood out: Joanna’s aunt, Catherine of Valois, widow of Robert the Wise’s younger brother Philip, prince of Taranto. Catherine was Joanna’s mother’s older half-sister (both were fathered by Charles of Valois). Catherine had married Philip in 1313, when Philip was thirty-five and she just ten. Catherine was Philip’s second wife. He had divorced his first on a trumped-up charge of adultery after fifteen years of marriage and six children in order to wed Catherine, who had something he wanted. She was the sole heir to the title of empress of Constantinople. … Catherine was twenty-eight years old, recently widowed, and a force to be reckoned with when the newly orphaned Joanna and her sister, Maria, first knew her at the Castel Nuovo in 1331. Shrewd, highly intelligent, and vital, Catherine was supremely conscious of her exalted ancestry and wore her title of empress of Constantinople as though it were a rare gem of mythic origin. Even the death of her husband, Philip, in 1331 had not dissuaded her from persisting in her efforts to reclaim the Latin Empire for herself and her three young sons: Robert, Louis, and Philip. A series of shockingly inept leaders had left the Byzantine Empire vulnerable to attack from the west, and this state of affairs was well known in Italy. Moreover, Catherine was used to getting her way. — The Lady Queen: The Notorious Reign of Joanna I, Queen of Naples, Jerusalem, and Sicily by Nancy Goldstone

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Loss of virginity, Criston is champ (who likes to be a bit puppy), Lady Dondarrion is a plus sized queen who doesn’t play around, pnv!sex, begging, set before HOTD, He learns alot that year Lmfao, pwp-ish, this is actually super soft

You stared from a high walkway, your companion next to you. Serena Caron was your closest friend and cousin. She was sent to Blackhaven as a girl. She tilted her head down at the training yard, eyeing a familiar yet changed face.

The newly knighted Ser Criston, the son of Blackhaven’s steward. Your uncle Arlan had knighted him since they returned from the last skirmish over the Boneway. He had grown into his gangly body, a man grown now. The dark haired knight was fearless with a Morningstar.

Serena noted, “He burned two water towers on the Boneway. Ser Criston was knighted soon after. He’s eight and ten now. Quite handsome you think?”

“Very much so. Much more handsome than the boy who stuttered and blushed to his ears when I spoke to him. When Cole was a squire still. Arlan’s ‘cole-black shadow’.” You snickered with Serena, clasping her arm, eyes catching the dark orbs of the steward’s son. You gave a smile and he nodded briskly, returning to training.

Your nightingale giggled, “He had to have gotten his cock wet by now. You know those camp whores flock to knights like flies to shit.”

Scoffing as you traveled down basalt steps, you replied, “Definitely not. He’s still green as the Mistwood. I’d imagine young Cole is like his father Wilhelm, all duty no fun.”

Serena’s dark eyes sparkled as she taunted, “Are you afraid your little childish flight of fancy has turned into a big handsome knight? Can’t moon over the highborn girl when his title can get many a pretty girl.”

Your cousin knew the jealous streak of yours. In your younger years, Criston was the cutest boy in the keep. You’d playfully tease and flirt with him, getting his stutter riled up and face darkened. You still wanted a piece.

You pinched her, snarking, “Oh don’t rile me up, you conniving songbird. He’s green and I can prove it. Make those pretty eyes wet with tears from my cunt alone.” The matter of your maidenhead was pointless— your husband Benjamin Tarly laid dead. Too soon for any seed to take.

Eventually some other lord’s wife would die in childbirth and you’d fill in. You were merely wedded and bedded at the tender age of 16 and now approached 22. The heir of Harvest Hall’s wife was rumored to have difficult births. Marcher to marcher, Selmy’s were not bad.

Whatever. You’d seduce this handsome knight and make him whine like a pretty maiden, doleful eyes begging you for relief. Serena interrupted your lustful thoughts and laughed, “Alright. If I’m correct, you get to brush my hair for a month.”

You sighed in annoyance regarding Serena’s thick curls.

“If I’m correct, you have to finally ask my brother for a dance,” you stated with a sniff.

Serena sputtered and blushed, slapping your shoulder. The Caron lady hissed, “Oh you witch! Beron thinks I’m a silly little girl.” Those two were so oblivious the Vulture King could spy their chemistry from Dorne. You shooed off your best friend.

“I’m off to seduce a maiden, wish me luck!”

She cursed you with a laugh, turning to her quarters.

Criston sat lower at the table for dinner, moved up above the castle guard and lowborn workers, bastards. Knighted now, he still retained a solemn disposition. There was fire underneath, not any soldier took initiative like he did near the horrid lands of House Wyl. Ambition lay underneath his puppy-ish face, baby fat all gone. Striking, with those deep eyes and tousled curls.

Wilhelm seemed to be preening, he boldly claimed his son would easily find his way to glory. Just needed some tourneys to get his name and skill out there. Criston gave a shy smile, sculpted lips curling up, tan skin darkening a shade.

You sipped on wonderfully bitter wine, eyeing him shamelessly. Serena snickered from your side. The young knight met your gaze and held it, brows furrowing in confusion. Placing the goblet down on the dark wood of the table, you licked your wine-stained lips, tossing your hair.

Criston averted his gaze, suddenly finding his supper very interesting. Shy little pup. You murmured, “Green. Green as the Queen’s dress.” Serena shrugged, “A highborn lady of the house he’s sworn to is much more intimidating than a whore.”

Supper was finished, servants coming to clear the plates. Abruptly standing up, you left to wait in a dark corner, eyes peeled for his fine frame. Ser Criston was clad in the familiar faded red of his small house. Annoyed as others filtered out, Arlan had cornered the object of your desire with your father.

Likely talking about horseshit and the upcoming tourney in Ashford. You waited and waited until they split, passing you by. Your Lord Father questioned, “What are you doing dear? Skulking like a ghost.”

Feigning innocence and batting wide eyes you simpered, casting a look to Ser Criston, “I simply wished to ask our valiant new knight about his adventures!” Arlan grinned and pushed the lad forward, “Go ahead, he’s too damn humble. Night my lovely niece.”

“Thank you nuncle, night to you.”

They strode off and Criston seemed like a fish out of water, eyes wide with uncertainty. He furrowed those dark brows again and asked, “What would you like to know about?” You hummed, “Walk with me and tell me all about it, before you get carted off again, Blackhaven’s new wonder!”

He gently took your arm and the pair of you strode around the basalt stones of Blackhaven. He seemed to ease up after some conversation, describing the bleak circumstances of the lands. You shuddered at the descriptions of the men lost and mutilated as a warning.

He asked a couple questions of his own, how your were holding up. What marriage offers may lay on the horizon. Chivalrous talk, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in the banal affairs of a Lord’s daughter. It warmed your heart some, your late husband was more concerned with hunting around Horn Hill.

You stopped the knight, conveniently at the doors to your chambers. He looked at them, back to you, and back to the door. Criston stuttered, “O-oh uh- it seems our walk has come to an e-end.” You smiled in a feline manner, placed a hand on his chest, felt his rapidly beating heart.

He inhaled sharply, unsure, murmuring nervously, “Lady Dondarrion, T-Tarly, wh-what’s going on here? This is unseemly for me.”

You shrugged, “Dondarrion. My maidenhead is gone and I desire you,” plastering your body to his you purred, “Since coming back on that black gelding looking like a maiden’s fantasy.”

He made a soft noise, eyelids fluttering, hands clenched at his sides. You murmured into his ear, so close your lips grazed the shell, the poor thing shivering, “If you desire to have me, the offer is standing now. Take it or leave it, Ser Criston.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, the pair of your stepping backwards into the door, lips meeting feverishly. He’d had some experience kissing, pretty lips easily moving with yours. He opened the door, more awkward stepping, then the dark haired man sealed the room shut.

His big hands wrapped around your corseted waist, gripping with a delightful force. Need emanated off the man, his broken noises slipping out between increasingly wet kisses. Your nimble fingers began to unbutton his doublet, exposing a pale undershirt and his lightly haired chest. He had a gorgeous golden chain upon tanned skin.

You pulled back, Criston softly whining and chasing your lips. He panted as you purred, “I’m a big girl sweet Criston, can you take it?” He nodded eagerly, seeking to get back to lapping your plush lips. Obviously he didn’t care of your curvy body, soft places that bothered you. Your mother passed down that.

Serena’s slim frame and busty chest oft drew the attention of most. You weren’t frumpy by any means, just thicker of waist and plumper thighs and ass, an overlarge bust you tried to bind down. Criston’s fuzzy brain seemed to catch up with him, praising, “You are beautiful, no amount of extra flesh is deterring me.”

You began to unbutton his breeches and he paused, indicating you to turn around. Thankfully the heat from the fire kept the room warm. You moved your hair aside as Criston’s hands undid your jewelry, carefully placing them on the nearest surface.

There was a stagnant pause. Criston’s hands hovering on the top button of your dress. You had already moved your hair, what was the hold up? Then it hit you, the green boy had no clue on how to undress a lady. Which granted, was a complicated ordeal.

“Unbutton that gold one,” you instructed.

He did so, pushing the dress down to reveal the next layer. The stiff corset, verdingal and bum roll. You untied the latter two yourself and teased, “Never seen a lady’s undergarments Cole?” He whispered, fingers faltering on the laces of the corset, “No, not of a highborn.”

The fire crackled as he released the garment, you breathing a sigh of relief, breasts and waist free of the restrictive garment. Only your thin shift remained, Criston making a weak noise as he jerked up the linen, groaning again at your soft frame.

It was your turn to be abashed, it had been a bit since anything but a primal rut in the dark at a tourney or feast from a visiting lord. He breathed, “Gods, oh, my lady.” You turned gently, unlacing his own breeches, tented by his cock. The knight’s thighs trembled, nervous hands roving your plush hips and ass.

You looked up at his doleful eyes, wide and needy. He’d bitten his lip bloody while you had been turned around. You asked, “Have you bedded a lady before?” He choked on an answer, gasping as you pumped his gorgeous prick.

He strained out, “No, fuck, fuck, my lady, I’ll be good for you, please.”

You thumbed around the tip, his mouth now fallen open.

“You’ll be good for me? Fuck your lord’s daughter, it’s almost your duty to be good. It’s okay, you’re a stud, I’ll let you eat my cunt if you blow early.” Criston made the sluttiest little whimper of your name, begging again, “Oh please, please.”

“Please what?”

He mournfully whimpered, “Pleeeease.”

You’d rendered the darling of Blackhaven to mush, begging for a treat like a sweet little hound, not even aware of what he was begging for. You let go of his leaky cock, leading him to the bed, pushing the tanned man down with a smirk. Your own cunt was aching, the power trip intoxicating.

Criston’s sweet face looked so innocent, panting heavily, hair already a sweaty mess. You straddled strong thighs, hands sliding up his lean torso. You asked sweetly, hands retreating to hold your breasts, “Do you want to touch them sweet knight? They’re so sore.”

He nodded, eyes growing teary with need. Criston warbled, “Yes, yes, may I?”

You nodded in assent, throwing your head back with a smile and throaty moan. Criston’s calloused hands felt good on the tender flesh, squeezing and experimentally thumbing your peaked nipples. The man groaned in pleasure, gasping out, “You’re so soft, feels good.”

You leaned over his frame, flesh to flesh gently coming together. Your paler skin against his tanned. His thighs trembled, mouth hanging open again as your body laid atop his stiff prick. You caressed a lightly stubbled cheek, smiling, “You’re just the sweetest thing, Ser Criston.”

He blushed, face screwing up when you laid kisses along his jaw and pulsing neck, nipping here and there. At the same time you rutted your swollen slick folds against him, sighing in pleasure. His big hands groped at your ass, voice strained, “Fuh-fuck me, fuck me please, oh gods m’lady, I’ll do anything, it- it hurts I swear it.”

Kissing his trembling lips, you cooed, “I’ve got you, relax, deep breaths sweetheart.” He nodded, frantic hands stilling, Criston’s staccato breath winding down a bit. Reaching under your body, you nestled the blunt tip of his cock against your sopping entrance. Cole cried out softly, hands clenching back down into your plush hips.’

He was doing his best to keep his breathing in line, exhaling sharply from his nose. You slowly sat onto the thick member, eyes fluttering from the feeling of fullness, the familiar stretch of your walls. You pressed your forehead to his cheek, hands planted on his muscled chest.

Criston seemed to be holding on for dear life, fingertips digging into you, leaving sweet bruises to cherish later. His cock twitched and throbbed, the knight babbling, “I, I, I, can’t m’lady oh seven hells!” You stroked his curls and shushed his frantic whining.

“I know, feels so good, just hold on, it’ll pass sweet boy.”

His teary eyes gazed at you intensely, nodding, you coddling him through the intense new sensations. Stroking back a sweaty piece of hair you asked, “Better sweet boy? Such a pretty pup with a pretty cock. Want me to ride you now?”

Criston managed a weak moan of ‘yes’, hips already twitching upwards. You began to raise your hips, riding his thick cock in slow movements. His back arched a bit, planting his feet down to thrust into your wet pussy. You praised, “Yesss, yes, that’s it!”

Soon the slow rolls sped up with each collision of your ass to his lean hips. What had once looked like gentle lovemaking had turned into fucking— loud, lurid, sloppy. Your mouth mashed against his, the pair of you whining and carrying on accompanied by the sound of your cunt being pounded.

Criston warbled, “So good so good, my lady, gods!” You nibbled on his lips, angling your hips to graze your sensitive bud against his body. The knight’s noises were getting more frequent. He thrust harder, hitting that good spot, you involuntarily tightening around him with a cry. You watched as the man stiffened with a whimper, eyes going wide, cock swelling up.

You immediately pulled up and off his cock, Criston too lost in the throes of his sudden orgasm to register the loss of your warm cunt. In a frenzy you ground yourself against his body, cumming as his seed spurted against your back and ass. He moaned dazedly, eyes watching you get off, rasping, “On me, my lady, on me, beautiful. Shall I get down on my knees and lap at you?”

His utter adoration and sweet voice, big hands at your sides accompanied the heightening sensitivity to your bundle, you grunting and moaning deeply, grabbing a handful of dark curls. The image of the pretty knight with a collar between your legs sent you over the edge with a raspy keen. Slick covered his lower belly coarse curls, Criston seeking out your lips desperately.

He shuddered underneath you, cute little ‘thank you’ leaving his lips. You rolled off of him, uncaring of the seed dirtying the bed. Criston immediately pulled you into his frame, tucking a stubbled chin into your neck. You rubbed his arm around your belly and hummed, “Not bad for your first time. I can teach you many a thing before off your pretty ass goes to tourneys and I get sent to Harvest Hall.”

“I would quite enjoy that,” came his soft voice.

Ser Criston Cole always sought out the banners of House Selmy during Royal tourneys later on. She was beautiful as ever, holding a babe and nodding at him with a dazzling smile. He’d always be fond of his times in Blackhaven, especially with her.

[kitkatscabinet]

Bejeweled

Aegon Targaryen II x f! reader

Summary: You hadn't married Aegon for love but you had thought time would at least endear you to each other. When years pass and he remains stuck in his drinking, whoring ways you decide to make him pay the best way you know how.

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: didn't know where i was going with this and ended up writing whiny sub Aegon: 18+ only, minors scram. never written smut before so if its cringe sorry. Spell check stopped working halfway through so probable errors.

Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind. Didn't notice you walking all over my peace of mind

As a highborn daughter of a lord you'd always known it was your destiny to marry well. To be sold like cattle to the highest bidder, you had long since accepted your lot in life.

So when you had been wed to the first son of the King you had done so without a hint of protest. Your parents hadn't been a love match but they had grown close enough and were on friendly terms. You had known this going in, just as you had heard the less than savoury rumours that surrounded the prince.

You had let it slide when he'd gotten outrageously drunk on your wedding night and the months after when he'd continued to drown in his cups and whores.

All the while you'd continued to play the role of the loyal, loving wife. Pulling his hair from his face, tucking him in when he'd passed out drunk, bending to his every whim in the hopes that maybe he’d finally see you.

It takes two years for you to completely give up, two years two long because after all Puttin' someone first only works when you're in their top five.

Aegon’s 20th name day was a resplendent affair. The Queen had taken it upon herself to ensure her eldest son and heir received the finest of days, even if he didn't deserve it. Deserved or not the festivities had given you the perfect opportunity for subtle retribution.

You had taken it upon yourself to be fashionably late to the banquet, mirroring his own lady mother's entrance to princess Rhaenyra's wedding. The magnificent gown that complimented every inch of your figure a stunning example of your house colours. Not a single inch of Hightower green or Targaryen imagery to be seen.

Hungry eyes of lords and ladies alike followed your figure, drawn to the beauty that had been heavily accentuated by the glittering jewellery that adorned your wrists and neck. Diamonds and pearls that had mostly been gifted to you by your already outrageously drunk husband. The husband that had been too busy eye fucking the poor serving girl to notice your entrance.

It isn't until you take your designated seat beside your husband does Aegon notice your form. Eyes widening comically as you grasp the newly filled cup from his hands and bring it to your own painted red lips.

A wicked sense of satisfaction fills your chest its tendrils curling around your heart as you notice how absolutely entranced the drunkard has become with you. Aegon's lips are parted with desire as his eyes greedily drink in what he believes to be his present. Your raise the glass once more to hide the vindictive smirk that has slithered its way onto your face as you think

Best believe I'm still bejeweled. When I walk in the room. I can still make the whole place shimmer. Aegon had taken so much from you, but your body, your beauty was still yours.

You don't stay seated for long as jaunty music fills the hall in a tune you had always been particularly fond of. Fingers lightly trailing over Aegon's shoulders as you make your way to the dancefloor. Your husband had never been one to entertain your desire to do so, and now you were determined to make him watch as another man placed his hands on what he thought was his.

As you made your way into the dancing crowd your husband was forced to watch as you laughed in delight, spinning between the various lords that had all but tripped over themselves to be by your side.

Aemond had regaled you with tales of what it felt like to ride the legendary Vhagar and whilst you had never experienced the rush of dragon riding yourself you could only assume it felt something akin to your current delight. The burning fire of your blood as you witnessed Aegon's scowl turning into something darker. The power that thrummed through your veins as you forced your husband to watch as his nephews clutched at your waist. Not even his brother had been spared from your devious clutches, half-lidded eye and head following your retreating form as you moved to your next plaything.

Alas, that seemed to be the final straw for Aegon as he swiftly made his way to your side with a jaw clenched so hard you wondered how his teeth didn't crack. The grip with which he grabbed you was bruising though you refused to allow your discomfort to show, chin raised high as you looked into furious violet eyes.

"What, do you think you're doing, wife" he hissed into your ear all vitriol and gnashing teeth. Feigning confusion, you furrow your brows before running a delicate hand over his face.

"Whatever do you mean husband? I simply wished to dance, you've never shown any interest before and I didn't want to bother you and your serving girls." The illusion you had tried to maintain instantly shattered as your own venom leaked through.

It is Aegon's turn to be slightly taken aback then, you'd never so much as hinted your displeasure for his proclivities before. He'd never witnessed anything other than your kind doting and blind eyes to his lecherous ways. The sheer surprise in his countenance has you scoffing and pushing back an ugly bubble of laughter.

"Don't look so surprised husband" you hiss, "familiarity breeds contempt." Your rage fades into something more melancholy as you realise it is indeed the familiarity you had allowed yourself with him that has you so angry.

You had only ever brought up your fury once before in a drunken haze when you had begged him not to put you in the basement when you wanted the penthouse of his heart.

To your eternal luck, the song ended before either of you had the opportunity to speak again and you were pulled away by a brave or suicidal lord for the next.

Forcing back the tears and pushing a smile onto your face you eagerly took the lord's hand. You spent the rest of the night avoiding Aegon's presence, surrounded by lords and ladies more than willing to keep you company. Diamonds in my eyes I polish up real, I polish up real nice.

Your sudden desire to entertain anyone other than your husband doesn't end with the celebrations. When Aegon confronts you once more, a week after you stop mothering him you simply say "baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl." You run a thumb over his lips before turning to make your escape, I think it's time to teach some lessons.

By now the residents of King's Landing court were more than aware of your sudden cold treatment of the prince. None more so than the men and women that had found themselves on the recieving end of your attention. Light touches with your rind adorned hands and whispers into ears with lips lingering a little too closely to be proper. Helaena and Aemond were the most popular recipients of your affection, the starved pair eagerly basking in the glory of your love.

Aegon, who had attempted to appear nonchalant at your sudden interest in the lords and ladies of the courts had eventually become furious.

It came to a head when Aegon had stalked into your room, obviously drunk, to see you curled up in Helaena's lap as she read through the newly update encyclopedia of instects you had gifted her. The following acidic conversation had quickly devolved into a screaming match that had you ushering an overwhelmed Helaena to safety.

Every nasty thought you had been holding in finally erupted once the sweet girl was out of the crossfire and the doors to your chambers slammed shut.

"My brother wasn't enough for you, you're fucking my sister now?" he sneered, wine spilling over his hand and adding to the various stains adorning his once white shirt.

Tears of fury burn the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, to give the bastard in front of you the satisfaction. Scoffing you stalked towards him, remaining out of striking distance but more than ready to rain your own hell down on him.

"What would it matter if I did?" you hissed defiantly, the ugly part of you still determined to make him hurt.

"You're my wife! You belong to me" he shrieked back, and that was your final straw. Feet swiftly closing the small gap between the two of you as your open palm connected with the skin of his cheek. The force left your hand stinging but you couldn't drag your eyes off the reddening skin of his pale skin. Pained shock covered his face as he clutched at the affected area.

"You're my husband, you're supposed to belong to me!" you retaliated trying desperately to ignore the gathering tears in his eyes. "I made you my world! I gave you all my pieces until I didn't even recognise myself anymore!"

The sapphire tears that you had so desperately been trying to keep at bay streaming down your own face. All at once your rage diminished and you were drowning once more in the sadness that had become your whole sky.

Unfortunately, your vitriolic rage was the only thing keeping your shaking body upright and your knees were quick to hit the floor. Deep heaving sobs shook your entire frame as you struggled to regain the breath you were losing.

Vaguely you are aware of Aegon clutching onto your form but you are too exhausted to push him away, desperate for some kind of comfort. His lips leave a burning trail along the skin of your neck and down to your chest. His deft fingers slowly unlace your nightgown whilst yours tangle in his silver hair, tugging at the roots to direct his movements.

Your mind is screaming at you to stop him, to not let him just crawl back to use and discard you once more. Gaining back some clarity you tug harshly at Aegon's hair, forcing his mouth to dislodge itself from your inner thigh. What you hadn't accounted for was the pathetic whine that your action had drawn from his throat.

You watched greedily as your husband's pupils dilated even further, lips pouting as he struggled against your hand to return to his prize. Your grip remained firm however as you sat up, using your free hand and legs to flip the unsuspecting man onto his back, before enclosing your grip around his neck instead. Once more his throat let out a pathetic whine that set your veins alight, fire burning in your chest down to your fingertips as you forced his writhing form to stay still.

Slowly you ground your hips down against his, eyes never leaving his as you lowered your mouth to bite down just over his heart. Your reward was a shaky gasp that sounded delicously close to a sob that had your hips faltering in astonishment.

The desperate upwards bucking of hips below you snaps you back into action. Fingers flexing in a warning around his throat as you lifted yourself onto his lower abdomen in order to stop any movement.

"No." With a single word the tides had changed, the usually prideful man had been reduced to a puddle of shaking, begging tears. Throat dry and nerves alight with ecstasy you slowly rid your bodies of any remaining cloth before sinking back down into his lap. You keep your movements deliberately slow as your rock your hips back and forth, mouth leaving punishing bruises along the milky expanse of his skin.

All the while your eyes never leave his face, scrunched up in pleasure and mouth stringing together the prettiest mix of moans and babbled words.

"please" he whimpers, eyes rolling into the back of his head and almost causing the last thread of your self control to snap from its already frayed state.

"Please what?" you smirked wickedly in response, attempting to maintain the last vestiges of your percieved control. Unintelligible whimpers are your only response and in a vindictive move you stop once more. "Use your words Aegon" you chided, leaning up to nip at the skin just below his ear.

"Please. Please, please fuck me" he shakily babbled out, breathy words finally pushing you over the edge. Your hips snapped into a punishing pace, hand grasping his throat so tightly you knew the skin underneath would soon bllom into a deep purple.

"Is this what you want? The reason you throw yourself so desperately at all those whores? You want someone to treat you like one?" you growl into his ear, your own pants of pleasure ane exhertion mixing with those from the writhing form beneath you.

The gasped moans increasing in pitch and furiously shuddering thighs indicated that in a typically selfish Aegon move, your husband wouldn't last much longer. A wave of annoyance ran through you as a snarl erupted from your throat. Lightening the harsh grip on his throat you offered only a brief reprieve before your fingers snaked their way into silver locks once more. Tugging forcefully you pulled until his chest was flush against yours, sweat mixing together as the two of your fought to pull the other impossibly closer.

"Touch me" you demanded, forcefully pulling his mouth down to bite at your hammering pulse and shoving one of his hands between your legs. Where Aegon ends and you begin is a mystery, the both of you desperately clawing at each other as if trying to pull the other into their very being.

It is with large hands splayed and grasping at your back and whimpered chants of your name just reaching your conscience through the debauched moans and slapping skin that you reach your high. Thighs clamping down against muscled thighs and a final harsh tug of sweat soaked silver locks is all it takes for Aegon to follow.

Your lungs greedily gulp in air tainted by the stench of sex as you force your shaking body to cooperate. Pulling yourself back you allow a brief persual of the masterpiece you had created still splayed bonelessly on your mattress. Burning leg muscles eventually allow you to move, collecting your discarded nightdress as you make yourself as presentable as possible.

"where're you goin?" Aegon slurs from your bed, glazed eyes hazily attempting to take in your movements.

"To bed, and seeing as mine is occupied it appears I'll have to find my rest elsewhere tonight. Good night Aegon." You are too swift for him to protest but as you reach the door you throw one last look at your painting of purples and reds before calling, "clean yourself up, you look like a whore." With those final words you close the door behind you once more, holding your head high as your assigned guards for the night throw uncomfortable glances at your post pleasure form. The sweat adorning your skin glinting slightly in the low lighting the various torches provided.

What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine

Whispers flitted through the cut throat court of King's Landing. Whispers of a bejweled temptress and the pathetic Targaryen that attempted to hang off her arm like a broken bangle. Whispers that turned to scandalised gasps that followed when she walked in the room, a different Targaryen draped proudly across her arm. Long silver hair matching the refinery littering her fingers, wrists and neck as she made the whole place shimmer.

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[haesunflower]

written in the stars | zhang hao royalty au

☆ chapter 2 here ☆

genre: angst, romance

pairing: reader (afab) x zhang hao

about/tags: in which zhang hao is a crown prince, and you are not the princess he's arranged to marry (1.9k words)

royalty au, arranged marriage (not to reader), love at first sight, i'm in a bridgerton mood that's why i wrote this

The palace is buzzing, and you’ve never seen it so busy. The servants seem to multiply as they make haste with the preparations. All the curtains have been drawn back, and the palace gleams in natural sunlight. The hallways smell of fresh flowers, and the floors are newly polished; you can almost see your reflection. Faintly, you can hear the footmen yelling, signaling the arrival of the royal heir of the neighboring country.  

While they were only arriving on a formality, these occasions are naturally celebrated extravagantly. No expense spared in public appearances, dinner parties, and tournaments. After all, it is only once where a soon-to-be-king is able to visit the home of his queen-to-be. Then, she is whisked away from her roots, to start a new life elsewhere. 

How wonderful, a royal wedding is to take place soon.

But not yours. 

Despite what people may think, you enjoy not being the eldest daughter of the family. You didn’t get all the attention from male suitors in soirees, you weren’t gifted the finest jewels, nor were you surrounded by a flock of ladies at all times. It’s liberating, you think. 

Your sister didn’t even have much of a say when it came to her marriage preparations. With the diligence of a dutiful princess, she complied and obliged to the plans of your parents. You couldn’t imagine living a life like that, being told that a certain path was your destiny. You certainly did not envy the life of the eldest princess. 

You contemplate moving from your spot to greet the esteemed guest, but it is decided for you when a butterfly lands on your shoulder. You gently place your finger near its legs, hoping it will latch on for you to get a closer look. Instead, it flutters away.

Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow it – all the way to the edge of the garden. 

To your surprise, it lands on the shoulder of a man. All you know of him is that he’s dressed in a cream ensemble. Engrossed in his conversation with your father, he clearly doesn’t notice the delicate creature on his shoulder. 

“Ah y/n darling, you’re here. Say hello to his highness” your father, who probably spots you staring, introduces you to the man. 

You curtsy, “good afternoon, your grace. Welcome to Astoria” 

Returning the greeting, he bows gently, then takes your hand where he places a small kiss from his lips. While a traditional greeting amongst royals, it was an act you weren’t used to receiving. When you both look up and meet his eyes for the first time, you’re suddenly met with jealousy – “a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, princess”

And for the first time in your life, you wish you were your sister. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

When you show him around your palace, as your father instructed, he greets your staff warmly. He asks you questions about your people, your customs, and your culture. He listens intently, watching you greatly elaborate about the place you call home. While you  talk his ear off, he takes slow strides to also appreciate the art, the flowers, and the instruments that play the most beautiful melodies. When you near the quartet, he  fixates specifically on the violin, watching it be played with such admiration. 

“Do you fancy the violin, your grace?” you ask. 

“I find it the most beautiful, do you not? An extremely difficult instrument to learn, but when mastered, elicits music fit for the angels.” 

He thanks the violinist and commends him for his talent, before you both continue with the palace tour. 

Sensitive, gentle, and kind – Prince Zhang Hao is every bit the person that is perfect to rule a kingdom.

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

At dinnertime, you try to focus on your meal. Instead, you watch the prince enjoy the company of your sister. They’re both smiling as they engage in small conversation, you can’t tell what it’s about, but he looks charmed. As they all always are, you think.  

When you turn your attention elsewhere, Hao finds himself looking at you. In a brief moment of distraction, he watched you bring the wine to your lips, slightly staining it a deep burgundy. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

It’s a bright summer afternoon, and the light from outside refracts beautifully against the stained glass windows. Being trained in arts, music, and sciences – your favorite place in the whole world had to be the royal library. So you find yourself here often, reading a book, studying maps of the stars, or much like today, practicing the violin. 

When you finish the song, you hear applause, and you’re shocked to see the prince. “I didn’t take you for a violinist, princess”. His body leaning against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed against his chest. Without the prying eyes of the servants, nor the pressures of royals, he seems relaxed. 

You gently place the violin back in its case, and look over your shoulder. “Am I good enough to elicit music fit for angels, you reckon?” He smiles, remembering the comment he made a few days before. 

“I wouldn’t have applauded you if you weren’t, I’m quite an honest man you know.” You chuckle, “and indeed you are, your grace.” 

“You can just call me Hao.” 

And while you are taken aback, you humor him anyway. “Okay, Hao – may I ask why you’re holed up here with me at the royal library? Shouldn’t you be with her royal highness today to greet the public?”

“Your sister is currently busy meeting the designer for her gown, so I decided to find something else to keep me occupied.” he walks nearer to you, hands behind his back. 

Boldly, you respond with “well, you have the pleasure of my company now”. He comes face to face with you when he says:

“Indeed I do, princess y/n.”

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

Over the next few weeks, Hao has joined you at the library in the early mornings. While the rest of his day is spent fulfilling the duties of a visiting prince, the start of his day is reserved for you.

You get to know each other better through the study of geography, as he tells you about the places he’s visited on your maps. You tell him how certain stars align to form different constellations, and how the night sky might have been decorated differently on your birthdays. You learn that he speaks multiple languages, after he helps you transcribe the ancient texts from the east. 

He speaks gently, yet with conviction. He smiles softly when you call his name, and approaches you in a gentle manner. He is also patient, when you are slow to understand him. He looks into your eyes intently while you tell stories, and you feel that his gaze might burn holes into your existence. His touch, gentle, when he guides you on the piano. And when challenged by you, plays the violin equally as beautifully. 

Among other thoughts, you’re happy to know your sister will marry a good man. 

“I have to go now, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You smile at him warmly, “like always, Hao.”

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

But he didn't arrive the next day, nor any day after that. Instead, his time has been given to your sister, who has requested to have morning tea with him daily. You don’t fault him, it’s his duty as a fiance. And perhaps time away from him is good. 

So when you find him gazing out at the same balcony of the library, you are surprised. 

“Y/N, what do the stars say tonight?” you look up at the sky, and then at him. He’s leaning against the railing, propped up against his elbows. Facing you, you fear that his height will cause him to fall backwards.

“Difficult to say with all the clouds, there barely are any.” As if to confirm your analysis, he too looks up at the sky. 

“So what brings you here, hao?” you ask as you make your way over next to him. You look up once again, hoping to find what he is looking for. 

“I wanted to spend my last night here to gaze at the Astoria stars you tell me about.” Right. His last day here. You don’t know when he’ll return, and if they will at all. But tomorrow he leaves with your sister to his country, Mariposa. The next time you see him will be at his wedding. 

“It’s a shame, maybe you should visit more often then”. You huff out, half jokingly because you know that’ll never happen.

“Yeah, maybe I should…” Hao trails off and watches you turn around to lean toward the balcony instead. Your face is resting on your hand, and you’re looking out into the garden hoping to be graced by the illumination of the fireflies. The moonlight hits your face, and hao studies the way your eyelashes flutter and how your breathing rises and falls. 

You can feel him staring. "You need to stop doing that, Hao"

"And what am I doing?" you look at him, and you don’t know if he’s feigning innocence or is completely ignorant. His eyebrows are raised, and you suppose it’s the former when he raises his hands up in surrender jokingly. 

Your face breaks into a smile, then a giggle. He likes the way your lips pull into a tight line before it gives up, and you convulse into laughter. He thinks it’s cute, the way you try to hold it in at first.  

So he too, feels the need to hold you responsible when he says  "and you princess, need to stop smiling at me like that”

Your smile falters, and then he clears his throat. You both break away from your gaze, and look straight ahead. Into the garden, where the fireflies are starting to show themselves. But the air is so silent, you can hear your own heartbeat. 

Then Hao asks a dangerous question, “do you think that would be so terrible? to look at you the way I do, and to enjoy the allure of your smile?”. He looks at you expectantly, hoping you understand what he feels for you with that question alone.

"Would that be so terrible?" you repeat his words, also questioning yourself. You want to think it over, but you know the answer. “Yes, yes it would hao. Because you are betrothed to my sister.”

The silence of the air is this time, welcome. 

Seemingly unafraid, he asks another question – “do you think maybe this is what is written in the stars for us? To be condemned by duty?” he doesn't need to expound for you to understand what he means. 

You sigh sadly, “it appears to be that way…your grace.” He feels the boundary that you’ve effectively placed. The use of the royal title, a reminder of why he has come to Astoria in the first place. 

You don’t look at him as you say goodbye to him one last time. You walk away from the ledge, and as he grabs your wrist to hold you from leaving, you try to release it. 

“Let’s not, your grace. It’s easier this way. Please.” His heart shatters at your words. So he lets you leave. He doesn’t know that there are tears running from your eyes, and that you fear you’ll change your mind if you take one look at his face. 

That night as he lay in bed he cursed his birth order, and so did you. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

As you watch them leave the following morning by the steps of the palace entrance, the same butterfly makes its way to you. It lands on your glove, and as you raise your arm to take a closer look – it flies away, towards the prince’s carriage.

You don’t follow it this time. 

—--⋆⋆☆⋆⋆—-

✩ chapter 2, chapter 3✩

A/N: First of all, I wanna apologize to anon because there is no fluff ending shfbhsbfj I just feel like it didn't fit the royalty vibe

This is also my first take on a non-idol universe! Hope you guys liked it and i'm hoping to hear what you guys think hehe

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✉︎ request/send me feedback or a reaction!

[five-miles-over]

Since I am currently obsessed with your Tom Hiddleston character headcanons and I noticed requests are open👉👈 Could we get some soft, fluffy Headcanons of the Tom Hiddleston characters on their wedding day to you?

Aaah, thank you so much for your request, @queen-paladin and thank you even more for your patience! This was fun to imagine, I hope you like it!

Multi-Character Headcanons: Tom Hiddleston Characters On Their Wedding Day

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

On his wedding day to you, Reverend Will Ransome would wake up at sunrise, taking his time to wash himself, get dressed, and make his way to the church for his own wedding

He would take advantage of the early hours of the morning to be alone with his own thoughts, except almost all of his thoughts would be on you. Will would mull over how tomorrow, he would wake up as a married man. Instead of an empty bed, Will would find you by his side as his wedded partner, a gift bestowed upon by God for him to cherish for the rest of his life. Instead of spending the morning contemplating in circles, the reverend would be with his newly wed wife, talking to you about his thoughts and eagerly listening to yours. And instead of retiring alone at nightfall, he would be comforted by your warmth and your love, spending hours in your arms until you both drifted off to sleep.

Heavenly father, hallowed be thy name, grant him the strength not to stray from the path of a devoted husband.

After an hour or two of solitude that would finally come to an end after years of longing, Will would politely interact with the guests while taking his rightful place at the altar as the groom.

As soon as Will saw you enter the church, holding a bunch of wildflowers and forget-me-nots, his heart would swell with joy and gratitude. He would silently thank God for bestowing him this gift of spending his life with you. And before the official vows, he would make his own, silent promise to make you happy as possible for as long as he lived.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get caught in a compromising position right before the ceremony (don't ask me how I know this, I just do)

King Henry V from The Hollow Crown 

On his wedding day to you, King Henry V would remain as stoic as possible in the presence of his servants while they readied him for the ceremony. 

Yet, occasionally his eyes would drift towards the small, intricate portrait of you that stood on his dressing table. Henry commissioned for it to be painted (based on his own description of you) for his personal desire after the first meeting with you. Every morning and every night that he could not be with you, he would look at the portrait and remind himself of the one that ruled his heart, his only beloved. 

And it delighted him to know that one day, that portrait would be replaced with a larger, more grand painting of you and Henry, the rulers of England. Perhaps, if God willed it, you would be holding his future heir in your arms when the time came for your portrait. 

Thinking about the heir would almost make Henry break his stoic facade, not because he would be thinking of fatherhood but because he would be musing over your wedding night. How would you feel after the ceremony? Would you be open to consummating your marriage? 

He would gently lick his bottom lip, remembering the first time he kissed you on the lips. It was on your third meeting, after Henry sweetly asked for your permission to do something so bold as to embrace you. If it weren't for his own restraint, Henry would have been caught blushing like a virgin by his own servants. That would certainly set some tongues wagging about the castle.

"Nev'r has't i seen true beauty until this moment.  How f'rtunate i might not but beest, yond while oth'r men spendeth their whole liveth seeking Elysium, i has't t bef're me", were King Henry's thoughts as soon as he stood in the church, gazing upon you while you entered, wearing a pristine white wedding gown and holding the arm of your father.

(Translation: Never have I seen true beauty until this moment. How fortunate I must be, that while other men spend their whole lives seeking paradise, I have it before me.)

At that moment, all of the royal stoicism the king of England had faded away like the morning dew. He smiled as if he were blessed with everything he could ever want. 

His eyes did not leave you even as you stood beside him at the altar and knelt before the priest. 

Henry recited his vows without flinching or faltering. As soon as the priest gave him permission, the king of England lifted your veil and proudly brought his lips to yours.

Your wedding would be one of the happiest days of the king's life, and one he hoped that you would also cherish

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a coronation and a wedding on the same day

Prince Loki of Asgard from Thor:

On his wedding day to you, Prince Loki of Asgard would be pacing through the palace in the hours before the ceremony, his hands behind his back

He had already imagined this day more times than he could count, marrying you, the love of his life. And with each day leading up to your wedding, his fantasies would grow so vivid, so exciting, so intimidating that he would hardly be able to sleep

Thoughts would be plaguing his mind every waking moment while the palace was being decorated for the celebrations

Would he be a good husband to you? How would he be able to satisfy you on the wedding night? And what if he displeased you in some way, shape, or form? Would you go to Thor instead and seek comfort in his arms? No…no, no, it couldn't be. Loki shook his head. You loved him. You would never betray him and he would never betray you. 

With a million butterflies in his stomach, he would go to the throne room with Thor by his side, wearing his armor, brand new emerald green robes, and his signature golden horned crown. 

Seeing you standing next to him in a beautiful wedding gown completely took his breath away, and it only strengthened his resolve that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life. 

He would probably struggle to look you in the eye, keeping a shy, boyish smile on his lips the whole time simply because of how much you resembled a goddess of beauty

In the presence of the All-Father, Prince Loki would make his vows to protect you, remain loyal to you, and perform his duties as a husband with utmost respect. And when the time comes, in front of all of Asgard, he would bring his lips to yours, sharing your first kiss as a married couple.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get shy when putting the ring on his bride's finger

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from Avengers: Infinity War 

On his wedding day to you, Loki would probably be overly excited about making sure this wedding was one to remember for the centuries to come

Until he met you, Loki believed he would never be able to find true love, let alone find someone to spend the rest of his life with. But all of that changed when Loki had a crush on you and Thor decided to play Cupid, conveniently leaving his brother alone with you in parks and cafés. Loki and you eventually caught onto Thor's plan, and eventually began placing bets with each other about what stupid excuse Thor would use to leave the situation. The result? Loki fell hopelessly in love with your wit, your humor, and your beauty.

And now that he would finally get the chance to celebrate his union with someone so special, Loki decided to leave no stone unturned in making your wedding as wonderful as possible.

With his brother's help, he arranged to have the magic of Asgard brought to your Midgardian venue, complete with a long banquet, floral arrangements with Asgardian flowers, and even a few lute players to entertain the guests while they dined

Loki even had a special tiara made for you to wear during the wedding - a simple yet elegant golden wreath tiara with diamonds and emeralds. He would've had a more extravagant design made, but every other female in his life suggested that he should choose a tiara that would suit any wedding outfit you chose

The moment he saw you, walking down the aisle in your wedding outfit, his jaw dropped. For a moment, he felt like his heart stopped and he went to Valhalla. When you approached him at the altar, he couldn't help but whisper, "You look absolutely ravishing, my dear…My Queen."

After bringing his hand to your lips, he would recite his vows to you

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard, Odinson, the rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief, do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity. I promise to always keep you safe, to keep you happy, and to keep you loved. You are my everything, and I will never ever stop fighting for us, wherever our journey may take us. And I swear on all that I hold dear in this life, that I shall never betray you, nor let anyone, man or god alike, take you from me. For as long as I live, you will be my wife and my lover."

Possible first dance song: "The Only Exception" by Paramore

Wedding superlative: Most likely to instigate a brawl between two people at his wedding (and do nothing to stop it)

Bill Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout 

On his wedding day to you, Bill Hazeldine would wake up, giddy as a schoolboy (after being unable to sleep last night until he called you on his mobile). His parents would giggle while he darts about, getting ready at a pace never seen before.

It was no secret that Bill was excited about marrying you. He spent weeks planning the perfect way to propose to you, visiting at least six different jewelry stores for the perfect ring and seeking your entire family's permission two weeks prior. And the night he proposed to you, he surprised you with a homemade attempt of your favorite dessert and your favorite film before presenting the ring to you. 

And of course, you said yes, much to Bill's immense delight. Finally, he would be starting a life with the you, the person whom he loved the most. He would be marrying someone who loved him for who he was and made him feel like he was capable of anything.

When it came to the wedding, Bill would be critical of every single thing about himself, bugging his parents and his best man with questions 

"Is this enough cologne? My tie, is it too short? Please, I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Bill, she loves you," his mother assures him. "She's marrying you. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you. Now stop fretting. You'll sweat through your suit."

After about a thousand assurances and countless intrusive thoughts, Bill would be nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet while waiting at the altar.

But as soon as he saw you, coming down the aisle, all of those thoughts would disappear. All Bill would be able to think of is how gorgeous you are, and how he's going to marry you in front of the whole world. 

Your first dance song would almost 100% be "Wedding Bell Blues" by The Fifth Dimension. It was his mother's choice, and once you heard the lyrics, you couldn't help but approve (seriously, if you haven't heard this song before, look up the lyrics because it's about marrying a guy named Bill)

Also, someone would probably need to make sure that Jewel Diamond doesn't show up and seize the microphone to sing "Part Time Lover" or "Like a Virgin" at the reception. But if that's taken care of, you and Bill will probably have a great time celebrating with your family and friends.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to cry when he sees his bride walk down the aisle

Caius Marcius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

On his wedding day to you, Caius Marcius Coriolanus would put on his armor and his military regalia as if he were going to lead a campaign. His mother insisted that it would make him look distinguished, and send a message that his bride - and their family - ought to treat him with respect. 

Many of his army men and his comrades would be in attendance, some of them even bearing gifts. They all knew of Coriolanus's feelings for you, teasing the general of how reluctant he was to approach you when he saw you for the first time and Cupid struck

But instead of rudely telling them all to shut up as usual, Coriolanus would bear it with gritted silence because deep down, it was all true. Coriolanus deeply loved you, and would never wish to live without you or hurt you in any way. 

Too proud to be caught smiling in public, Coriolanus would simply let his eyes speak his adoration for you when you entered the temple of Mars, dressed in fine robes and jewelry with a veil over your head. 

His eyes darkened with lust when you came closer to him. And in that moment, all he wanted was for the priest to hurry up and stop talking so he could kiss you, claiming you before everyone as his wife

After the ceremony came to an end, Coriolanus would keep one hand on the small of your back, determined to keep you close to him while he musters small talk with the guests…and insults some of them.

At some point, perhaps at sundown, he would cut his conversations short and bid his in-laws good night. Tightening his grip around you, Coriolanus would bring you to his home as fast as possible so he could finally drop his guard and…privately celebrate your union

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get into a fight at his own wedding

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

On his wedding day, Jonathan Pine would be extra vigilant, keeping an eagle eye for anything that might go wrong. 

While you were getting ready, he would be pacing along the oceanside and through the rows of seats for a possible threat, or someone who could be smuggling a weapon. Even after Angela Burr assured him that no one knew about his wedding except for the few people in attendance, he would still insist that someone keep a tab on you and give him constant updates while you were getting ready.

Jonathan had already loved and lost someone, and he would never forgive himself if someone took his bride away from him.

Until he saw you, he would not be able to let himself rest for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck while pacing, adjusting his cufflinks (which happened to be the ones you gifted him for Christmas), and thinking of every single way that someone could sabotage this special day

And the moment you came down the aisle in your beautiful wedding gown, Jonathan would breathe a sigh of relief and beam with pride. At that instant, the only thought in his mind when he looks at you would be how amazing and how happy you look while you approached him. And how every moment leading up to this one was definitely worth it. Nothing would be able to hold a candle to the first time he got to see you as the one he, Jonathan Pine, was going to marry.

Holding your hand, Jonathan would quietly say his vows, knowing that he had already made every single vow to himself when he proposed to you. That in his mind, he had already promised to love you through thick and thin, in good times and bad times, even when the two of you would be miles apart. You would be the one he fights for and stays alive for, every single time.

Possible first dance song: "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls or "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra (Or "Shakespeare" by Miranda Cosgrove)

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a destination honeymoon

Robert Laing from High-Rise 

On his wedding day with you, Dr. Robert Laing would be thinking of nothing but you, simply put. 

("Ruhi, come now…" "You know what, Robert? Somebody had to say it.")

When Robert originally moved into the high rise, he was disillusioned with the thought of being involved with other people. He wanted to be alone, nothing more. But now, three years after that day? He couldn't picture a day without seeing you, without indulging in your witty banter, without giving you a kiss before going off to the medical school, or without you simply calling his name. It had to be magic of some kind, an enchantment Robert couldn't quite explain with all of his scientific knowledge.

And that's how Robert Laing, a doctor of physiology who lived on the twenty-fifth floor of the high rise, let himself fall in love you and share his life with you. 

Sure, Wilder and a few other guys in the high-rise would be pouring drinks and making crude jokes about Robert finally getting a 'ball and a chain' but Robert knew better. You wouldn't be a ball and a chain to him, but rather an angel. 

With you by his side, Robert could begin a new life at the high rise, one where he wouldn't have to be alone. A life of comfort where he could come home to someone who would care for him, and a life where he would have someone to cherish and protect. It would be a new life with a new purpose, all thanks to you

So when he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time, he couldn't help but stare. You looked like an absolute dream, so radiant and so gorgeous. 

He'd continue to steal glances throughout the ceremony, even while reciting his vows. And when the officiant finally says "you may now kiss your bride", Robert would put one hand around your waist and use his other hand to cradle the back of your head, passionately capturing your lips with his

Possible first dance song: "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" by Frankie Valli 

Wedding superlative: Most likely to burn the dance floor at his own wedding (and get quite tipsy in the process)

Second wedding superlative: Most likely to eat more cake than the bride

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander 

On his wedding day to you, Magnus Martinsson would be one of those grooms who makes snarky jokes about his life being "over" but is secretly freaking out on the inside

It wasn't helpful that his colleagues at the station kept making jokes about him being 'tied down' and how you were way out of his league. 

Magnus would find himself in a downward spiral of thoughts about the kind of husband he'd be, and whether you really were making the right choice in marrying him when you could have better. 

His comments might get so bad that even Kurt Wallander would have to intervene and tell him to stop unless he wanted to hurt his bride

Wallander would take Magnus aside and assure him that there are many great things about marriage, and that he is lucky to be spending his life with someone like you. That most men, especially those who joke about marriage being the 'end of their life', would desperately want to find someone who loves them as much as you love Magnus

With those words, Magnus would calm down, fix his curls, and go to the altar to wait for you. And as soon as he saw you walk down the aisle, he would realize how right Kurt was. That he, Magnus Martinsson, was the luckiest man in the world because he was going to marry you. That all of those jokes were false, and the only thing that mattered was how much you loved each other

Magnus might not choose to write his own vows, sticking with the traditional "in sickness and in health, till death do us part", but he would be sure to tell you how much he loved you throughout the wedding

Possible first dance song: "My Girl," by The Temptations

Wedding superlative: Most likely to show up to his own wedding completely hungover

Oakley from Unrelated

On his wedding day to you, Oakley would be the most chill groom ever. Seriously, anything could happen and he'd be the one reminding everyone to calm down. The rings are missing? Don't worry, they'll turn up anyway. 

His chill attitude also means that he would be perfectly fine in getting married while wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants. Somebody might need to drag this cocky handsome bastard into a suit, reminding him it's his goddamn wedding day, not some picnic

Oakley really isn't a fan of formal wear, especially anything that requires a tie

He would probably be joking around with his friends, having a smoke during the hour before the ceremony. 

He wouldn't even be freaking out about the fact that he'll soon be a married man because…this is exactly what he wanted the minute he fell in love with you. He knew that he needed you in his life, that you were the one he wanted to love for the rest of his days, and that the best thing to do was to tell you exactly that… before asking you to marry him

And the moment he saw you standing in your wedding dress for the first time, all of those memories left his mind and the only thing that Oakley could think about…was how he would never forget this moment. And that if the world were to end tomorrow, he would be the luckiest guy on the planet just because he would get to call you - this gorgeous, funny, and kind person standing before him - his wife.

Also, Oakley would totally be the type to make his wedding kiss with you totally epic, either picking you up and spinning you around, or turn it into a dip and kiss (which looks something like this)

Possible first dance song: "Teenage Dream" by Boyce Avenue or "Lucky," by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get drunk during his own wedding and say something extremely inappropriate

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

On his wedding day to you, Thomas Sharpe would have every detail in its perfect place. From the flowers to the organ playing the wedding march to the seating arrangement, every single thing would be immaculately arranged to your liking.

He would play the part of a doting groom very effectively, almost ignoring Lucille most of the time in favor of talking to your family members. He'd play with the little ones, laugh at your father's attempts at humor, and assure your mother that her child will lack nothing in their marriage

The moment you entered the chapel, a warm smile would spread across Thomas's face and his face would light up as if the in the world darkness was finally gone for good.

As if you were made of glass, he would carefully take your hand in his and lead you to the altar, kneeling before the priest. 

Then, Thomas would make his vows to be with you in sickness and in health, till death do you part, and kiss you slowly, savoring this moment of purity. 

After the ceremony, Thomas would lead you in a waltz - your first dance as husband and wife - with a pace so swift yet so delicate that it would not extinguish a candle

At a specific moment, when the guests are dining, Thomas would lightly tap on his glass with a fork to get everyone's attention. 

"On behalf of the Sharpe household, I would like to thank you all for attending this lovely occasion. I could not be more happier than to be marrying the lady seated right here," Thomas would gesture to you with a proud smile. "She is truly a blessing, and until death parts us, I promise to hold her close and to treasure her always. May our days together be filled with happiness and joy."

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have an eloquent wedding toast that makes everyone go "Awww"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

On his wedding day to you, Captain James Conrad would be silent to almost everyone before the ceremony, pretending to be completely calm about his impending nuptials. But his dark circles and his red eyes wouldn't fool anyone; it would be pretty clear that he hadn't sleeping so well lately

Actually, after he'd finally left Skull Island and settled in the United Kingdom, James had been dealing with nightmares about Kong and other terrifying creatures he'd encountered. Eventually, Preston Packard and Mason Weaver coaxed him to start seeing a professional about his nightmares and traumatic flashbacks. 

That's how James Conrad gained the courage and the hope to start a relationship with you, the beautiful neighbor who lived a few doors from his flat. And now, nearly two years after your first date, he proposed, you and James moved in together, and you were getting married. 

James could not have been happier about your union, but the past week leading up to the wedding had been tough. 

The two of you thought it might be good to have a little separation before the ceremony, and James thought it would make the wedding sweeter, so you agreed to sleep over at a friend's place. 

James found himself deeply missing your touch (and your cuddles - shh, don't tell anyone I told you) and many of the nightmares from his past returned. So after talking to you on the telephone every night, he would hold one of your sweaters like a security blanket while trying to lull himself sleep

When he finally saw you coming to the altar in your wedding gown, it felt like he'd been underwater for hours and was finally coming up for fresh air. From now on, he would never have to sleep alone, or face anything all by himself. Whatever happens, if he ever has to return to Skull Island in his dreams or in real life, he would have you by his side.

He'd be grinning the whole time from ear to ear, just enjoying the moment with you, and would always have his arm around you. Whenever James wasn't trying to stifle a yawn, he would be holding you close and stealing kisses, much to the amusement of everyone else around him.

Possible First Dance song: "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" by Elvis Presley

Wedding superlative: Most likely to never let anyone else dance with his bride because he gets jealous

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

On his wedding day to you, Thomas would be dressed to the nines and poised like a prince, wearing a sharp three-piece suit (with a pistol concealed in his jacket) and Dolce and Gabbana citrus cologne

To him, this wedding was not unlike any other important engagement. A place where deals could be made and broken, offers could be extended and retracted, and alliances could be tested

Therefore, only the best of decorations could be present. The cake and the champagne had to be of the utmost quality (no cheap, off-brand liquor allowed), and the floral arrangements needed to be elegant enough for royalty

It would also be an opportunity for Thomas to reward his those closest to him in his inner circle; by inviting them, wining and dining them with a gourmet meal, he could reward their loyalty while also keeping them near should they try anything suspicious. 

But none of that would apply to you. No, Thomas may be emotionless and calculating in matters of business, even at his own wedding, but you were not to take part in any of it. In fact, your innocence was one of the reasons why Thomas was so attracted to you. You gave him something worth living for, something that was worth defending and protecting. He could not afford to corrupt you with his dirty world of schemes and plots

During the wedding, Thomas would be your Prince Charming (like always), making sure that you were comfortable. 

He would hold your hand and tell you how beautiful you looked whenever you got nervous. If you were hungry, he'd make sure that a plate of food was brought to you. And if someone dared to make you uncomfortable on your special day? They had better prepared to have the living daylights pounded out of them.

Also, Thomas would never admit this to you until possibly years after your wedding to him, but he secretly bribed the person who showed you your wedding dresses to only show you designs that he approved of. He knew that you would look stunning in anything you wore, but he always liked to be the one in charge

Possible first dance song: "Fly Me to The Moon," by Frank Sinatra or "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King

Wedding superlative: Most likely to carry out a murder at their wedding 

Taglist: @thatdummy-girl @icytrickster17  @mischievoushiddleston,@lokischambermaid , @lady-rose-moon , @lokisgoodgirl , @lokisninerealms @jennyggggrrr ,, @tom-hiddleston-imagines , @lokiismineforever @smolvenger @winterfrostlovetriangle , @the-haven-of-fiction , @turniptitaness  @cakesandtom ,@sallymagnoliaposts @leahs-reading-nook @holdmytesseract @muddyorbsblr

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Marina Can't Swim, Eloise...

Pairings: Colin + Penelope Bridgerton, Eloise + Penelope Bridgerton (friendship)

Summary: Penelope receives a letter from Romney Hall.

Main Masterlist | Polin Masterlist

The Bridgerton family were standing in the drawing room, celebrating the wedding of their second-born son Benedict to Sophie.

Violet was standing beside Marcus Anderson. Anthony had Kate tucked into his side as their son Edmund II sat on the floor with some wooden blocks, as the heir to the Bridgerton estate played with his cousins Thomas (Lord to the Featherington family), Augie and Belinda. Colin had his arms wrapped around his wife’s waist, running his palm along her expectant stomach. There was also Daphne and Simon smiled at the newly married couple. Whereas Eloise, Gregory and Hyacinth were stood slightly glued to the food and drink table.

The only person missing was Francesca, who was currently grieving the sudden loss of her husband John Stirling.

“May I introduce, Mr. and Mrs. Bridgerton,” the minister introduced, as the family cheered. The minister bowed and left the Bridgerton house, allowing the family to celebrate in the way they wished.

“Oh, my dears!” Violet exclaimed, hugging her new daughter-in-law to her, and smiling at her son. From the time Benedict was 15, he was determined to never marry - but then one dance with Sophie at her masquerade ball changed everything.

Anthony and Colin slightly cornered the newly arrived brother, sharing their congratulations.

Penelope smiled at her husband when a gentle hand on her shoulder made her head turn. Rae, and had a white envelope in her hand. “There is an urgent letter for you.”

Penelope blinked a few times. “Thank you, Rae,” Penelope smiled at her lady’s maid and looked down at the handwriting. Which she didn’t recognise. Then she saw the posting address.

Romney Hall, Gloucestershire.

There was only one person she knew who lived at Romney Hall in Gloucestershire.

But this wasn’t Marina’s handwriting.

“Pen?” Eloise asks, giving her best friend a slight elbow.

“I just need a moment, El. I was going to sit out in the garden if Colin asks.”

Eloise nodded, watching her best friend leave the room.

Colin and Eloise made their way out to the garden about five minutes later, finding Penelope sitting in a chair, staring out into the garden, not moving.

“Pen?” Colin says gently, crouching in front of his wife. He ran a thumb along her knee, waiting for her to speak.

“Pen?” Eloise called, taking the seat beside the redhead.

Penelope let out a shaky breath. “It is from Sr Crane,” Penelope said, looking down at the singular piece of paper. “Something has happened…”

Colin looked up at his wife, gently wrapping his hand around her wrist - a way of comforting her, so she could get the words out.

“Marina fell in the lake at Romney Hall…”

Eloise’s eyes bounced back and forth between Colin and Penelope. They both seemed a little bit shaken by it. “What does that signify?”

“She cannot swim, Eloise…”

The trio made the choice not to tell the rest of her Bridgerton family, about the letter they had received. Benedict and Sophie were safely sent on their honeymoon to My Cottage.

Colin and Penelope made their way back to Featherington House, as Daphne and Simon decided to make their way back home with their two children. As Violet took Eloise, Gregory and Hyacinth back to Number 5.

Eloise found herself sitting at the writing desk in her room with a piece of paper in front of her.

Sir Phillip Crane-