#transformers blades x reader

[smallestapplin]

Rescue bots romance headcanons

Yes, hi, I was dragged into this and now can’t stop thinking about it.

Reader is gn!human. Nothing but fluff here (if you have any less fluffy ideas please throw them at me, I’m desperate for these fuckers)

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Chase

Chase is so dense it’s a miracle he even managed to realize his feelings for you were more than just platonic, the tightness in his chassis every time he spoke to you, the claminess of his servoseach time he felt the urge to grab your hand. Oh yes, you had this police bot wrapped around your finger before he even realized it.

However, he is a very by the books bot, courting will be done properly! He scares you half to death with his siren softy ‘bwoop!’ing, sadly you aren’t the only one who gets spooked by it, as Chief Burns gets a good jump if he happens to be riding in Chase’s alt mode, same with the rest of the family if they are around when he doesn it.

The only ones not confused are the other Rescue bots, Blades and Heatwave do not stop teasing Chase for his little crush on you, making the poor bot more flustered about it than he already is (even if his expression doesn’t change much.)

Blades tries to offer some advice though from all the movies he’s watched, but most of them end up in a sillier fashion than Chase would like. Heatwave attempts to help but he’s really got nothing but support for him. Boulder, luckily, is Chase’s saving grace, using passages from the dating advice books Chase has read to help him.

He had to ask Charlie for help obtaining flowers, chocolate, a plush toy with hearts, and a request for leaving later in the night, which he was delighted to be granted.

The hard part comes with actually asking you out to a picnic under the starry sky under a nice clear night. You try not to laugh at how cute he looks with a barely big enough magnetic bow tie, a radio playing older cheesier love songs, and his gifts in his servos. He has an entire thought out speech for you, from the very instant he realized his feelings to the actions he noticed most about you that made him fall helm over pedes for you, to finally how he wishes to start a pre-conjunx endura courtship with you.

Agreeing and you have the rare chance to see such a sweet smile on his face plate and cheeks twinged blue.

Chase is a very interesting bot, he remembers very VERY little things, the date and exact time you agreed to date him, from your first hug to your first kiss, he has a calendar with all of it marked and timed, your first night in each other’s rooms in some way. Down to the last millisecond.

Protective boyfriend, very protective, it takes his job as a rescue bot very seriously and never hesitates to save people, but when it’s you in danger of about to get hit he becomes an entirely new ferocious bot, adrenaline coursing through him to get to you and take any hit for you, to get you to safety first.

Call him for anything, do you feel mildly uncomfortable around someone? Congrats, he is right next to you and putting himself between you and whoever else. He’s observant to little things, any nervousness you have will instantly be addressed by him, cause he wants you to feel safe and comfortable.

A little awkward on affection, Chase likes holding you in some way but kissing gets him bashful. Handholding, cuddling, hugging, setting you on his shoulder all come to him like second nature with you, but kissing? Please do it, he wants to kiss so badly but is unsure how to approach the subject or bring it up.

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Blades

how YOU don’t know Blades has a crush on you is beyond everyone else, it’s so obvious and just a fact. “Grass is green, the sky is blue, and Blades has a crush on that nerd.” It’s almost adorable but painful to watch. Blades thinks he’s hiding it sooo well, he’s so cool and no one knows! It’s not like he gets nervous around you and starts stuttering, it’s not like his cheeks burn blue with bright energon when you’re around him, it’s not like he squeals happily and bounces in place when you agree to watch a movie with him.

He plans every hang out to a T, always has snacks for you, what movies to watch, blankets Dani and Cody let him use. Please don’t ask him about the movie. He was too busy staring at you with a smitten look on his face plate.

Blades wasn’t a flight mode bot until he got to Earth, so he doesn’t have much control over his wings like one would think, as the rest of the team calls him the sweetspark alarm for the sole reason of they don’t even need to look up from what they are doing to know it’s you, the second they hear fast ‘ptptptptpt’ they know you are at base and Blades spotted you.

Once more with Heatwave’s banter, calling him a sap and to just go for it already he’s getting a processor ache just watching you two.

Anytime you leave base Blades mopes around, sighing, slumping over the couch already missing you and he lets everyone know it. Even his confession came out by accident, he got hurt trying to protect you and when you held his helm so gently everything just came spilling out in rapid succession.

How could you say no when he’s looking at you like you are his world? His joy makes him forget his rotator is damaged, and truthfully you wouldn’t even know how he picks you up and spins you around, cheering.

Blades is a big sweetheart, a very needy one too, he loves your attention and affection so much! If no one can find him then he’s with you, he’s so attached to your hip. Please flirt with him, even the smallest or silliest pick up line has him making a wheezing sound before covering his blushing face plate and giggling, he’s so easy to make swoon.

Please hold him while watching a horror movie, he loves them dearly but he’s such a big chicken he needs to be held and smooched instantly.

He may be fearful but that never stops him from protecting you or getting hurt trying, but please be careful on rescues and missions he will cry if you are hurt. He holds and treats you so tenderly, giving the injured area gentle kisses and apologizing he wasn’t fast enough, and always asks if you need anything. Nurse Blades is at your care to ensure a good recovery.

Blades can be a bit hard on himself and often thinks less of himself, he’s not as strong as Boulder, as smart as Chase, or very confident like Heatwave, sometimes he needs a little boost and some reminding he’s loved and perfect as he is. Cover his helm in kisses, whispering praise and what you love about him inbetween, hold him close, it really makes him feel a thousand times better.

Call him a pretty boy, he will go to you with a skip in his step and love in his eyes. You are not immune to his pet names either, ones he’s picked up from too much tv, from ‘sweetie’ to ‘honey’ to ‘cherry pie’ though the look on his face was priceless when you explained the meaning of the last one, he has called you it once and then never again he was so embarrassed.

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Heatwave

Mr I'll keep all my emotions right here until i die’ is not above finding himself smitten with you and it angers him at first, he is here on a mission nothing more nothing less and yet you throw a wrench into those plans. Your stupidly cute smile, you dumbaft adorable laugh, that stupid stupid happy sparkle you get when you see him, it’s infuriating! No one can tell what’s upsetting him, he avoids you as much as he can and uses the training dummies to get all his frustration out.

It takes him so long to calm down and fully realize this isn’t just some crush that’ll go away, no, he’s in love with you. It doesn’t help you look up at him with a smile and a happy greeting of his name, his name has never sounded better than it does leaving your lips, he could listen to you say it all day.

Once Heatwave realizes these feelings aren’t going away, prepare to have scary dog privileges, as Heatwave is very protective over you and slightly possessive, your safety and health come first and if he catches anyone saying anything that isn’t praise for you it’s on slight. He doesn’t like sharing your time, he will find some way to drag you away from others or at least keep you by his side while you talk to everyone else, even if he doesn’t speak he just grunts but makes sure you are within arms reach.

More ‘bwoop!’s of sirens, cybertronian courting at it’s finest, he likes letting you know he’s there and he always puffs his paneling when it not only works but also gets your attention. Anytime he’s pulling up he’s ’bwoop!’ing anytime you move past him he’s ‘bwoop!’ing his siren softy. His spark melts everytime you chuckle at his calls.

Kade has made ONE offhanded comment about you and it likely ended into the worst argument the team has ever seen the two have, as Heatwave does not take kindly to any bad mouthing of you, whether you are there to see it or not. The leader is a firm believer in ‘keep my sweetspark’s name outta your intake.’

And he hasn’t even asked you out yet, speaking of! When he finally does ask you, it’s late at night, everyone is asleep except you two, neither of you could sleep so you both sit in the backyard, it’s quiet aside from the sounds of the crickets and birds, and you lay so close to him, he can feel your warmth. It’s quiet between you two but it’s not uncomfortable, it’s nice, but for some reason it has him spilling his spark out to you, from his background he’s never told anyone, to how much he truly adores you, loves you, everytime you’re near he can barely think right.

Returning his affection with a smile and a kiss to his shoulder earns you one loving but grumpy bot. Constantly reminding you to take care of yourself or he will do it for you, and that is a promise.

Heatwave isn’t a huge fan of PDA, he prefers to keep your affection private and behind the closed doors of his habsuite, though he doesn’t mind a little hand holding or more subtle touches.

This is now where his slightly possessive nature kicks in, anyone even slightly hinting at flirting with you and he will stand behind you glaring something deadly to whoever you are talking to. Without hesitation he will step between you and others, he always likes keeping you at his side or slightly behind him so he can protect you. His pet names for you mostly have ‘my’ at the start of them.

Banter, I hope you like banter, because he is still a snarky bastard, he can’t help but tease you, calling you short stack (even though he is unfairly tall), or his tone mocking as he calls you ‘your majesty/princess/prince’ he lives for playful roasting each other, cause with you it always ends in someone getting a kiss to shut the other up and he won’t admit it, but he does want that kiss.

His temper can cause a bit of problems, but he has gotten better at working on it! Please, he will tell you he just needs a moment to cool down, and he will go to you when he feels calmer, cause the last thing he wants to do is say something in the heat of the moment and hurt you.

Gifts are interesting, he's more of a quality time and acts of service kinda bot, but you do in fact get gifts, sometimes it's some ancient treasure from pirates that he yoinked, sometimes its a pretty rock from an abandoned island they went to, and other times it’s a little action figure of himself and his team (which you had a good laugh about, but adore so much.)

Primus, help if you are ever injured, he goes into rescue mode but his intake is in worried partner mode and keeps trying to reassure you he is not leaving you anywhere.

Also Primus, help if someone makes you uncomfortable, he is not above catching a charge, much to the dismay of Chase.

[revelboo]

would you ever consider writing for Blades? I started watching rescue bots recently and he's such a cutie 😭 he stole my heart

Sure! I haven’t done anything for him in years, but he is adorable

Longing

Blades

• You’re right there, that smile making his spark ache as his servos curl against the edge of the hangar door. Feeling terrible for stalking you, for being creepy. Doesn’t even know your name, but he loves you. Loves the soft sound of your voice, your laughter, that easy smile. And he can’t make himself walk over and say hi. Introduce himself. Half afraid he’ll start babbling. Tell you that he loves you when you don’t even know him. Don’t even know he’s sentient.

• Because you’re kept safely in the dark like most of the residents, unaware that he and the others aren’t just exceptionally clever tools. And it’s supposed to stay that way, only a handful of trusted humans aware of the truth. Leaning his cheek against the door as you talk to Dani, he whines softly, rotors flicking. Wondering how angry everyone would be if he blew their cover. Went over there and kneeled, offered you a servo. He’d be charming, not nervous and you’d smile up at him, laying a little hand on his. You’d fall in love with him right then. Fall into his arms.

• Clearing his vents with a groan, he knows that’s not happening. None of it. He’s not brave enough to just walk over there and flirt, let alone just say hi. So he’s just stuck over here, watching from a distance and wanting. Wondering how you’d feel in his arms. Would you let him sweep you up against his frame, kiss you? He’s not human and maybe you won’t be able to get past that.

• Blinking as Dani looks past you, the story she’s telling faltering and you turn to look. Seeing her robot lurch to attention, expression blank. Just kind of standing halfway in the hangar, halfway out. Skin prickling because you’d been sure they couldn’t move unless ordered to. “Stay here, that glitchy thing is malfunctioning again,” Dani growls stalking past and as you watch, she points and you barely catch her hissing under her breath “get back in there.” Weird.

• “I’m sorry,” he groans once he’s back in cover, rotors flicking under the weight of his friend’s glare. So tempted to ask Dani to introduce him. Or beg. On his knees. “Was I seen?” Did you see him and wonder who that handsome mech was? And Dani smacks his leg when he tries to lean a bit to peek out the hangar again. Needing to see you. ‘What is with you?’ She demands and he can’t just tell Dani that he’s wants to meet you. Touch you. Flirt. Kiss you. Maybe you’d let him do that. Maybe you’d let him do more?

[savvymantis]

Heyo I’m so stupidly excited someone writes for the rescuebots. Do you have any headcanons of the four main bots being smitten with a human s/o? Just before dating, like their inner thoughts and acts to try and make it subtle or get it across?(you can ignore this if you wish, I love your writing either way!)

Oh So Smitten

Chase:

Chase is soft for you, but it can be hard to see sometimes. He doesn't act too different around you, but there's an obvious need to be around you that he carries whenever you're near. He lingers near you, minding his business but ready to be your helper should there be anything you need. And if that thing is just a conversation? He has many conversation starters saved up for such an occasion.

It needs to be said that while Chase doesn't act too different around you, he does act different around others. Both his team and Charlie have to hear about you near constantly. Chase has a lot memorized, trying his best to parse through his own feelings and what your own might be. He also wants to try and woo you, if possible, so he discusses his plans at length with his other, taking them as serious as a rescue.

Heatwave gets sick of it quick, but Boulder and Blades find it romantic enough that they do their best to keep up with Chase's intricate plans to show himself as a good partner for you. They even offer their own ideas for gifts to give you, but be careful. Chase cannot cook. He can, however, suss out the perfect gift based on everything you have ever said. Just don't be too put off by what he says as he gives them to you; he's still practicing with Blades on making his compliments more flattering instead of sounding like he's studying you like a bug.

Heatwave:

Heatwave is smitten, but you would never know. If you never hung out around him, that is. Heatwave likes to think he's got a good lid on his innermost emotions, but it's not hard to see how he relaxes whenever you're around. His voice softens, his posture slouches, and he smiles far more than he does whenever you're away. It's easy to notice, if you know what you're looking for. Everyone else has noticed, at least.

Given Heatwave's tendency to be, well, grumpy, it's easy to tease him about his crush. And tease his team does. Boulder coos and swoons over how in love with you Heatwave is, while Blades talks on about spring weddings and saying yes to dresses. Chase is more practical, showing off his relationship and dating self help books, trying to get Heatwave to do what they suggest. Heatwave doesn't, instead shouting at his fellow bots until they scurry off snickering.

What they don't see is his own plans, written down on a datapad he keeps on hand constantly. They're not very extensive or detailed, just small notes on things you like or activities you'd might enjoy. Heatwave is confident enough in himself to be okay without every detail being written down, and he knows you'll have fun together, whatever happens.

Boulder:

Boulder is the most laid back of all the other bots, and thus he's the only one that is really hard to guess where his feelings lie with you. He's adoring and sweet to everyone, always interested and curious of humanity. It takes the family and even the other Rescue Bots a while to realize his interest in you is more than just platonic, and that's only after they discover carefully drawn sketches of your profile surrounded by hearts in his habisuite.

Any teasing is to no avail, for Boulder isn't ashamed of his feelings. He understands that they're as natural as can be, and you're lovely, so why would he be ashamed? Teasing thus turns into encouragement to confess, and it's there where Boulder hesitates. While he's assured of his own feelings, yours are less known, and it's not confirmed you'd date a bot, much less him. Luckily, his team is nosy helpful, and figure out that you wouldn't mind a big, strong, handsome bot as a partner

With more confidence in his chances with you, Boulder steps up his game. He brings you flowers and drawings of the natural wildlife around the island, which eventually evolves into those sketches of you being shyly passed along whenever you're hanging out alone together. He compliments you too, so sweet that it makes you blush, which he wants to capture on canvas one day. If you're agreeable.

Blades:

Blades is the most obvious about his crush, which surprises no one. He's bashful and chatty at the same time, wanting to talk to you about everything, but also so shy that his face plate seems permanently stained blue. His rotors flutter a lot too, sometimes taking his pedes right off the ground when you make him flustered or excited. It's extremely obvious, but also extremely cute, so you don't mind.

It's easy to tease Blades about his crush, since he frantically denies it like you can hear him from across the island. Still, since he's a little hopeless and a little too reliant on movie tropes, the team does their best to help him along. And that goes about as well as you would expect, so not very well. While everything seems to fall apart, their attempts at nonchalant dates are nonetheless very fun for you, especially when they end with you in Blades' arms as he flees some danger.

Movie nights are a must, but also a way for you to add you own romantic opinions for Blades to hear. He points out courting rituals to you, eager to hear your ideas, and keeps them in mind as he grows more determined to woo you. Each date he tries to casually spring on you gets better and better, until you're both practically dating without anyone even saying anything.

[localrobotfragger555]

Oh laWTEEE PLS HEAR ME AAOUTTT🛐🛐🛐🛐

[ithecrystaldragonheart]

Rescue Bots Incorrect Quote

Blades:Hey Y/N, what'cha thinking about?

Y/N:Heatwave's voice sounds so familiar, but just can't place where I've heard it before.

Heatwave:What're you guys talking about over there?

Blades:Y/N's trying to remember something.

Y/N, suddenly whipping out their phone and typing madly:There's no way, there's no way...

(A video starts playing on Y/N's phone, and a voice that does indeed sound remarkably like Heatwave speaks)

Y/N:You sound like Heatblast from Ben 10!

Heatwave:Uh, cool, I guess?

[cheekycheesecake01]

⚠️NSFW warning under the cut. Just a random realization I had.⚠️

So since Griffin Rock is like.... known for its advanced technology... imagine the sex toys? Freaky ass thought, I know, but the thought occurred. I've been watching this show since I was a little kid, and now, as an 18 yr old, the thought came to mind.

Like, the rose toy vibrator and the hitachi wand were already a staple in the sex toy industry. Then we invented a showerhead SPECIALLY made for female masturbation, which was a game changer. Imagine what kinda shit Griffin Rock has?

Do what you will with that food for thought, yall.

[sleepysloth99]

Not me about to make a self-indulgent Graham Burns x ADHD!Reader comfort headcanons because I'm physically incapable of doing my homework. Wooooo stay tuned Rescue Bots!

[smallestapplin]

What would Boulder, Chase, and Blades reactions to their human s/os period be? How would they help?

Are they the stereotypic al “what do you mean your life sauce is coming out of your body? Why are you calm about this?!” or are they more chill?

(Sorry for any all mistakes I’m getting my ass kicked by The Symptoms

I hope you’re feeling better :( be sure to drink lots of water with an meds, and eat even if it’s just a little!

Reader is gn!afab

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Boulder

- out of the three he is the calmest about this, he still looks so worried when you come to visit and you look so tired, so out of it cause the pain is too much, he grows more worried when you pause in your steps and your expression twists in annoyed pained. He carries you everywhere after that, refusing to let you walk around and asking you what exactly you need to feel better.

- Gets a list of items from you and sets you on his berth in his habsuite, making sure you are comfy and cozy first, surrounded by as many blankets and pillows he could get from the common room to ensure you are secure before he calls for Graham to aid him. Boulder drives and Graham gets the stuff, they even make a pit stop by your place to get some clothes and more comfort items for you.

- It’s a nice little surprise for you when you wake up from your nap and Boulder has set many items next to you, many snacks, many bottled drinks, and your most beloved plush toy Graham snagged for you on when they stopped by your place.

- You don’t have to tell him about it much, after you merely told him what was wrong and crashed he looks it up and starts doing heavy research into it while you sleep cause he’s so worried. It saddens him there isn’t much he can do to help as this will happen once a month, but he will do everything he can to make sure you are comfortable as possible! You want snuggles? He’s on it. Craving a specific thing of fast food? He’s already tugging Graham along cause his conjunx is GETTING their order.

- “Just tell me what you need an I’ll go get it for you! Please don’t push yourself more than needed, you are going to make yourself feel worse.”

- He’s adoring and attentive as always. He makes sure you have everything you need first before he leaves out for rescues.

- “Please don’t hesitate to comm me if something happens or you need me to pick you up something. I love you. Get some rest.”

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Blades

- Now this is the bot that loses his mind. Firstly, you don’t show up to the firehouse for a few days and when he comms you, you sound so exhausted and he can hear the occasional grunt or heaving pained sounds as you try to find a comfy position. When you tell him it’s your period he’s confused until you tell him a brief run down, poor choice really.

- “Bleeding? But humans need their blood inside! Oh, oh primus are you dying and didn’t tell me?! I’ll be right over I swear, j-just hang on, I’ll get you to a medic!”

- Dani stares at him in disbelief as the bot is near tears trying to get her to hurry along cause he swears his conjunx to be is dying and they need him.

- You need him yes but you arne’t dying. It takes her a solid seventeen minutes to calm him down and explain what is truly happening, and even then he is beyond baffled and confused, cause what do you mean the human body just DOES that? What do you mean it happens all the time? His conjunx is in pain and he’s suppose to just be cool with that?

- He’s coming over anyway and reaching into your bedroom to pull you out and taking you back home with him, cause he’s not leaving you alone in this dire time of need. He goes above and beyond with the items you could possibly need, you might be set for the rest of the year if he can get away with it. Don’t worry about a thing, because HE is going to be the one worrying about everything and will probably cry with you if you get even slightly emotional. So so much affection, he can’t help himself in kissing you all over your face and cuddling up to you.

- Yet another dutiful butler, however please inform him to stop asking if you need anything else cause the headache is killing you and you need to bury your head under the mountain of pillows he gave you.

- Need a bath or a shower? Do not worry he’s already on it, in fact he will join you and scrub you down gently himself, making sure to comfort you and allow the spray of hot water to hit your lower stomach for a while to help your cramps.

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Chase

- Lower case fear. What do you mean you are pained? His scanners show no wound but your vitals are a little off and like that he’s got the entire team surrounding you as he holds you in his servos. You look as calm as ever explaining to four giant alien robots, whom don’t have anything close to this problem within their species, look beyond horrified and baffled.

- You are too calm for Chase’s liking when he’s freaking out. Blood is basically human energon, you need that to live and it’s just coming out of you with some lining you speak of? He’s so confused he is asking you questions you don’t even know how to answer without frieghtening him more.

- “You mean every month you deal with this, and youve been dealing with it alone? No, that is unacceptable. Inform me of your needs and I will ensure you get them.”

- Dani and Charlie get the most of his worry, cause he asks them every question he can think of as well, Dani gives up, but Charlie at least thinks it’s sweet, until he’s being woken up at 3am cause ‘My conjunx requires a heating pad and salty fries, stat.’ And while CHief Burns agrees, he is not thrilled and neither are you, apologizing to him and saying you only mentioned wanting those SOON, not then and there, but Chase refused to listen to you tell him he didn’t have to.

- Chase makes it his job to get you what you need and want, however he takes his role as your care taker VERY seriously, he will stand there and ensure you have exactly one hour of water time a day, meaning no other drinks, just water after you’ve taken your meds, just to make sure you are hydrated, and only then does he return your other beverages, with a kiss of course.

- Cybertronian frames are a little warmer than a humans body, so you want, he can carry you around on his shoulder and let you snuggle into him for a nap while he moves around base.

- If you feel good enough to move around after some bad cramps, he can drive you around so you can get some fresh air, maybe something to eat. Chase feels his best when he’s taking care of you, even when you give him a soft ‘thank you, i love you’ he always puffs with pride, knowing he’s being a good conjunx for you, and ensuring your needs no matter what are met.

[revelboo]

Rescue Bots Masterlist

🔞 MDNI

Blades x Reader Scenario- Longing

Chase x Reader

Heatwave x Reader

Main Masterlist

[savvymantis]

My brother in Primus I adore you, I am at your command. But may I humbly request Blades from the rescue bots with a human lover who kisses him sensless? Smothering him in affection cause he’s so cute and precious.

(Mayhaps a few of the other bots getting jealous he’s getting so much love and smooches?)

- noodle (ps I love you broski.)

Love Bird

It doesn't take long after entering the bunker for Heatwave to groan, rolling his optics. "Good grief."

"Hi, Heatwave!" Blades chirps, rotors fluttering happily. "How was the mission?"

"Easy." Heatwave grunts, bee-lining for his habisuite to not have to watch Blades lift you back up to his faceplate, dermas already pursed for a smothering of smooches. "Get a room!"

"We did!" Blades scoffs. He pouts against your tummy, but you just chuckle, peppering his forehead in kisses. "We were in the yard, but Dani made us come inside cause we were 'distracting' her from the rock wall."

"You were giggling pretty loud." You note.

"You're supposed to be on my side." Blades whines, but he doesn't seem too upset. Still, to appease a grumpy firetruck, he stands, cuddling you close to start moving towards his own personal habisuite. The entire way, he makes sure to pepper your head in kisses. "Traitor!"

You feign dismay, a hand to your forehead. "Oh, I do hope my punishment isn't too severe. . ."

"Hm. . ." Blades pauses long enough to ponder such a punishment, one to match the crime. "Your punishment shall be. . . giving me one hundred- no, two hundred kisses!"

Heatwave groans somewhere off in the bunker.

You just give a small huff. "Damn. Better get started then."

Blades skips the rest of the way to his habisuite, overjoyed and eager to settle down and savor your kisses without anyone else to judge how much he adored you.

[rin-eko]

Tiny Scales ~ Rafayel x Reader

He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

Content: softness, pregnancy, childbirth in the ocean, non-canon mermaid depictions and biology

WC: 1.6k

Rafayel knows the due date is near. Knows that soon the oceans will be bustling and the waves will spread in welcome to the new heir of the seas.

He can see it. Sense it. He can practically taste it. In the same way he can sense turbulence amongst the choppy waters of the deep sea and taste the salt in the air.

And of course, it is also made obvious in your actions. You don’t notice all the changes happening within you and your subconscious, but he does, and he’s never felt more tender, more protective.

He sees how you want to be alone more often, just like a Lemurian female, often finding you nestled in the corner of your plush, shared bed, fast asleep and cradling your belly for long hours of the day.

Or sitting just at the edge of the private beach outside your home, right where the water meets the sand, knees tucked to your chest as you let the waves kiss your feet and wet your hem, something within you viscerally needing the ocean close in the same way he does.

He sees your enamoured exasperation when you rub your round belly that’s grown heavy and uncomfortable to carry. Notices how in some moments you crave him in ways you can’t help or explain, wrapping your arms tightly around him from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, wanting to crawl beneath his skin so much you’ll huff a sound of helpless frustration, quickly unbuttoning his shirt so you can press your face to his bare skin. His chest, his shoulder blades, his neck.

Throughout your entire pregnancy, you and Rafayel rarely leave the house. Before the small life had begun to grow inside you, you had thought you and Rafayel couldn’t possibly be any closer. You knew everything about each other, did everything together, your lives entwined so completely you could understand each other without words, could feel each other even when apart.

But during your pregnancy, when the two of you literally spent every minute of each day with each other within the safe bubble of your home, your relationship had once again transformed, morphing into something so deep, so infinite and everlasting you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, where or even if there was any separation of your lives anymore. You felt the air he breathed passing through your lungs, could feel the surrounding world through him and the little one nurtured within you.

As for Rafayel, you had never seen him more relaxed. He had forgone cutting his hair, instead letting it grow, the soft purple ends sweeping down his delicate, pale neck and grazing his shoulders. More often than not he forewent shoes and shirts, and almost always denied invitations or interviews from the world outside your bubble.

He devoted all his time to you and the child safely tucked in your womb, painting countless images of your pregnancy. You sleeping on the couch, one hand on your belly, your hair a mess around you. You standing in the soft morning light of the kitchen. You on the beach, wearing a thin nightgown and facing the silvery moon which casted mesmerising reflections along the inky water. The two of you lazed in bed during those months, rising when your bodies willed, lulling back into a deep slumber in the same way the tides ebbed and flowed.

Ten months. A little longer than a regular human pregnancy. Different from a regular Lemurian pregnancy, too. You weren’t laying eggs. The baby was alive within you, little movements tickling Rafayel’s nose when he spoke to your belly in the dim light of the midnight moon, the soothing sound of waves crashing outside.

“I can’t wait to meet you, my little love,” he would speak quietly in his ancient native language, pink lips softly forming beautiful words. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach and you stroked through his velvety hair in response, your thumb rubbing lightly just below his ear where small pearlescent half-circles could be seen. As your hormones changed and strengthened throughout the pregnancy, his instincts had responded keenly, and oftentimes his scales would erupt on subtle parts of his body before he could help it. You loved kissing those smooth patches, licking them, nuzzling them. You wondered if your child would have them, too. If they would take after their father’s kind or yours. Not that it mattered, the love you both felt for the child could surely sink through your skin and reach them, wrapping them safely.

And when Rafayel wakes after a little more than ten months to find the space beside him in bed empty and cold, he somehow knows.

He doesn’t bother checking for you in the house, walking straight to the beach outside where the sky is a light purple still glittered with stars. He stops at the top of the sand, the breeze whispering through his hair as he stares at the back of the figure swaying waist-high in the currents. Your body, your instincts, perhaps heightened by the Lemurian DNA inside you, have told you that this is the place and this is the time.

Rafayel is shirtless, the light material of his loose white pants sticking to his ankles as he walks into the water, to his calves, his thighs, his hips, right behind you. The waves welcome him in their embrace, acknowledging their god, and soon, the heir to them.

His arms wrap around you from behind and his eyes glow a bright blue-purple, everything within him vibrating as his mate lets out a small moan and leans back against him.

“Beloved, are you in pain?” he speaks right by your ear. His thumb strokes your swollen belly over your thin white dress. The gentle ocean swells pass by the two of you.

You make a small sound that says you are and hold the large hand resting on your stomach tighter, trying to concentrate on the first sliver of the sun’s light casting a tiny glow of yellow on the horizon ahead.

Your neck turns to nuzzle the size of your face against his bare chest, moaning lightly. He ducks his head down. You’re panting a little. “Raf… Rafayel… If this baby takes after you, I will be so happy.”

He kisses your temple, smells your hair and the ocean. “My love, you and this baby are my entire world.” There is nothing more important. Nothing more precious.

And as the first rays of sunlight warm the sand and cause the sea to glimmer like a thousand jewels, a little princess is born. Rafayel holds you throughout, letting you squeeze his hand as tightly as you need, cupping water in his palm to cool your sweating hairline. He rubs your dry lips and silently commands the waves to embrace you carefully, comfortably.

One last whimper and push from you and he feels your taut body sag back against his chest. Throughout the process, silvery-blue scales have emerged on his skin, below his eyes, at the column of his throat, along his forearms and ribs. Whenever he sees you in pain, and also, from his own excitement. And now, he sees a flicker of the same colour quickly splash the surface of the water before sinking a little beneath.

Still holding you securely with one strong arm, the other darts beneath the water, scooping something small and soft and smooth up in the other arm.

You’re both breathless as you stare at the amazing, beautiful creature. So small, with scales a shade lighter than Rafayel’s. So small that its head can fit on Rafayel’s palm. It looks half asleep and droopy, with little saliva bubbles gurgling from its mouth.

And the tiniest, cutest little mermaid tail you have ever seen, the end wrapped lightly around Rafayel’s forearms, the fluke of the tail wriggling slightly.

As if by pure instinct, Rafayel’s own tail stretches out, scales fluttering up his sides, gills emerging by his ears. He brings the baby to your chest for you to hold and you cradle her warmly as Rafayel carries you both deeper so his tail can comfortably stretch out without touching the sand below. He keeps you both afloat like that for a long while, the both of you just staring in awe at your daughter. Every perfect inch of her. You feel no pain, only completely and wholly connected to the sky and the sea and your little family.

The tiny thing blinks dazedly, eyes opening a little and you inhale sharply. A happy sob chokes from your throat.

“Darling,” you coo, reaching to stroke one soft cheek with the back of a finger, infinite gentleness and adoration swelling within you. Her eyes are purple like your beloved’s. A brilliant mixture of the rising sun pink and blues you only find in the depths of the ocean where ancient Lemurian statues still stand.

“Will she be able to change when she’s so little?” you breathe the question to Rafayel, dipping to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Mmm,” he cradles you and nuzzles the back of your neck. “If she spends long enough outside the water it will happen automatically. She will learn to control it as she grows.”

You imagine Rafayel as a child, learning the same thing, a stark contrast to the strong Lemurian holding you now, the large tail swaying in the water beneath you.

Rafayel’s chest feels so open and so full. He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

[malavera]

Cosplay (18+) — Hugh Jackman One Shot

pairing: hugh jackman x female reader

summary: Your hubby came home after filming one of the scenes for Deadpool & Wolverine with his costume on to surprise you

warning: SMUT! MDNI. PWP. Wolverine cosplay sex, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, the use of pet name bub (bubby / bubba)

a/n: i had this scenario every time i went to bed

"Bub, I'm home! Where are you?"

"In the kitchen!" Your voice echoes through the house, a playful lilt in your tone as you rinse the last plate under the warm, soapy water. The clatter of dishes is almost soothing, a rhythm you've come to appreciate in the quiet moments.

But then, without warning, a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you into a firm, familiar embrace. The unexpected touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel the roughness of his stubble grazing against the soft skin of your shoulder blade. His warmth envelops you, seeping through your clothes, and suddenly the kitchen feels too small, too intimate.

"You’ve eaten without me?" His voice is a low, teasing rumble against your ear, and you can’t help but smile, even as your heart races.

"Well, I figured you'd be late, so..." You trail off, your voice faltering as you quickly dry your hands on a nearby towel. But when you turn around, the air catches in your throat.

Standing before you, with that trademark smirk you know all too well, is your lover. But tonight, he’s not just himself—he’s transformed. Draped in the iconic yellow and blue, his muscles defined by the snug fabric of Wolverine's original suit, he embodies the fierce, feral energy of the comic book legend. His eyes flash with mischief, and the scowl he wears—so perfectly in character—sends a thrill through you.

You stare, wide-eyed, your breath hitching as the reality of the moment sets in. The air feels heavy, charged with anticipation, and your mouth goes dry as you try to swallow, your body betraying you. He steps closer, the leather of his costume creaking ever so slightly, and you know—this night is far from over.

"H-Hugh..." The name slips from your lips, barely a whisper, as you stare, utterly transfixed.

His grin widens, the mischievous glint in his eyes sharpening. "What's the matter, bub? Cat got your tongue?" His voice is a low, teasing growl, sending a jolt of excitement through you.

You stumble back, the cool edge of the kitchen counter pressing against your spine as he advances, his presence overwhelming, magnetic. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't tear your eyes away from him—this man, your lover, transformed into something untamed, almost primal.

A nervous laugh escapes you, breathless and trembling. "You look... incredible." The words come out in a rush, your voice barely steady. He’s so close now, the scent of leather and cologne filling your senses, and you know there’s no turning back.

"C'mere.." He muttered, an arm snatching to hug your waist pulling you close to him before he tilted his head, enough so the pointy nose of the scowl wouldn't poke you, to pull you in for a hungry kiss. You gasp, trying to follow his rhythm.

Hugh grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it, earning a loud moan from you. As your mouth went agape that's his moment to shove his tongue deeper. The heated make out session sent you to heaven without realizing everything around you as you are now being seated on top of the kitchen counter, legs spread wide for him to stand in between them.

"You miss me bub?" Hugh asks in between the kiss.

"S'much, daddy." You mewled and he groaned.

"Please, daddy. Do something.. to me." You moaned.

"Yeah? What do you want daddy to do huh? Tell me." He's teasing you. He knows exactly what you need, it's your second favorite thing about him; his fingers. He's so good with it. The way he would put one in, and then shove the other, thrusting in and out of your glistening cunt. Your favorite part is when he curls them inside you before he repeatedly flicks them.

"Want your fingers, daddy."

"These fingers, baby?" He tilted his head, acting dumbfounded, as the tips of his finger made a circle against your clothed pussy. "Yeah?" He pressed the pad of his fingers right against your clothed clit.

"Ah.. Yes." You gasp, smiling.

"You're soaked already, bub. What's gotten you so eager for me? Is this the suit? Huh? You love seeing your daddy in his costume?" He taunted.

You can only nod as you enjoy the way his fingers rubbing your, still clothed, cunt. "Daddy, please. I've been good. I deserve this."

"Of course you do, baby." You gasp once you felt one of his fingers enter your throbbing cunt. You shrieked when you felt his other hand make a handful of your hair and tugged your head back, making you watch him.

"Look at me when I'm making you feel this good, bub." There goes the second finger, entering. And he does your favorite thing, finger-fucking you.

You whimpered, closing your eyes briefly. "Urgh.. Daddy you're so good.. You're so good with my pussy." Between the two of you here, you both have the praise kink. He's an actor, of course he loves being praised for his skills and performances. You both are a master at this department, though only your words can get him going.

"Yeah? Like that bub? Tell daddy how it feels... So good yeah?" He coo’ed.

"Yeah.. Yeah.. so good daddy, deeper.. OH!" You gasped out a loud moan at the end once you feel him pushing in his fingers deep into your cunt.

"Only my fingers can play with this cunt, right bub? My cunt." He grunted.

"Yes, yes daddy! It's your cunt!" You whimpered, feeling as you're about to reach your high; You gasp once more when he harshly tug his fingers out of your cunt, jolting your body forward.

"W-what.." You breathlessly said.

"You're gonna have to cum on my cock, bub." He hastily spoke as he tries to take his heavy cock out of his pants. Swallowing down your saliva, you watch as he give himself a couple of jerks before tapping his heavy cock against your pussy, indicating he’s about to go in. Not that he’d need your permission to.

Your mouth fell agape watching the big tip of his cock, slowly entering your soaked folds, feeling every inch of his cock going in even the raging veins felt like they’re scratching the insides of your warm cunt. Hugh roughly grabs you by your neck, forcing you to look him in the eyes that are covered with the wolverine scowl.

“Look at me when i’m fucking you, bub.” He harshly spoke as he starts to move his hips back and forth, gently at first before he picks up the pace, turning the peaceful atmosphere filled with your moaning mess.

You’d never imagine you’d see the night filled with Hugh fucking you on top of the kitchen island with his super hot wolverine costume on. All you could think about is how this costume would be the one where people all around the world would see later in the movie theater once it’s coming out. And the fact that he has fucked you in it, makes your pussy flutters as he is not stopping anytime soon. The nasty sound of your pussy milking his heavy cock that is formed from the mixed of your fluid fills the entire kitchen. And you wished you could watch yourself being fucked by the wolverine in third person’s point of view.

“What are you thinking about bub?” Hugh piston his hips to a certain angle which caused you to loudly moan. “You’re thinking about how good i’m fucking you right, bub? You never want me to stop right, honey?” Hugh coo’ed.

“N-no, daddy. I never want you to stop. I want you to make me cum, please it feels so good!” You cried, your hands went up to play with your tits.

“Oh yes, play with those tits bub. My tits. Fuck, this cunt is so good I can never get enough.” Hugh grunted. He pulls you closer to him making your hips lying at the edge of the counter.

All you wanted is to get him to cum deep inside you. You could feel the brush of his pubic hair from every stroke, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. You’re going to cum anytime soon. But something is growing inside you and it’s inching closer, any seconds now.

“W-wait, Daddy, stop, something’s wrong!” You shrieked.

And you know better from stoping your beloved from fucking you hard, he will never listen. But instead, he gripped your hips harder and thrusts his cock in and out of you with a godly fast pace.

“Fuck, fuck, Daddy!” You screamed as you forcefully pushing yourself away from him before you feel yourself reaching your high. You couldn’t contain it, it sprayed everywhere, even to his costume. Your thighs are shaking, your chest heaves up and down.

Hugh stood there groaning as he just witnessed his baby squirted out. “Fffuckk… Bub, that was amazing.” He muttered, but he’s not stopping there. He grabbed his cock, aiming the tip against your entrance, softly rubbing it against your hole first.

“W-wait, I don’t think I-..”

“Shut up, Bub. Daddy hasn’t cum yet.” He hissed as he pushed the tip of his cock into your entrance.

Your pussy purred, “Oh.” You gasped, feeling a little bit embarrassed. But, Hugh loved it.

“Do you think you can give it to me one more time bub? This time, squirt on my cock?”

[floatyflowers]

Butterfly| Dark Samurai X Cursed! Reader

Inspired: Butterfly by Smile.dk

The deadly aura wrapped around the forest like a heavy veil, making it harder to see a clearing.

Yet, you flew through the trees with ease, remembering how you used to walk on land with your two feet, enjoying the sense of freedom you had, but the witch's curse has stolen that from you.

The painful transformation shrank your body, and wings burst from your back. By dawn, you were a butterfly, cured by the witch you insulted.

But she was tauntingly merciful enough to tell you how to break the curse.

'To break the spell, you must find a warrior of steel and shadow. At the edge of his blade, you must stand, and only then shall you be free.'

You had searched for what felt like an eternity, watching as warriors clashed and swords sliced through the air, but none had seemed worthy...until tonight.

The scent of blood and steel clung to the breeze as you approached a lone warrior standing amidst a recent battle.

His armor, though splattered with crimson, gleamed beneath the moonlight.

Long black hair, unbound and wild, framed a face too beautiful for a man who had just ended so many lives.

You, understanding the final step of the witch's riddle, landed on the very edge of the blade, your tiny feet clinging to the cold steel.

A strange energy pulsed through you, a jolt that shattered the illusion of your butterfly form causing the world to swim back into focus, your human senses returning with a rush.

Human limbs tangling as you collapsed against the samurai’s chest.

His arms caught you instinctively, his breath hitching as he stared down at you, a naked, trembling woman where a butterfly had been just moments before.

"What sorcery is this?" he demanded with a voice that is low and dangerous.

You gasped, still shuddering from the transformation.

"A curse," you admitted. "One that could only be broken... by standing on the edge of your blade."

His gaze darkened. Something flickered in those dark eyes, something possessive, and ravenous.

You didn’t understand it. Not yet.

The witch had left out one crucial detail.

Breaking the curse didn’t just free you.

It bounded the ruthless samerui to you.

---

Akao was not a man who believed in fate. He believed in steel, in blood, in the weight of a promise.

But from the moment you tumbled into his arms, he knew Kami has chosen you for him.

You were his.

He didn’t say it, not at first. He gave you his haori to cover yourself, he fed you, and gave his protection as you traveled together.

However, his eyes never left you. His fingers lingered when they touched. And when a bandit dared to leer at you, his blade found his throat before you could even blink.

"You didn’t have to kill him," you whispered that night, watching the firelight dance across Akao’s sharp features.

He didn't answer you, as his gaze was unwavering.

You shivered.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when he pressed you against a temple wall after speaking to one of the villagers, his body caging yours, that you finally understood.

"You are mine," he breathed, lips grazing your ear.

"The moment you chose my katana, you chose me."

You should have been afraid. But the heat in his eyes, the devotion in his touch, it melted your resistance.

The curse had bound you to him, yes.

But as his mouth claimed yours, as he vowed to carve his love into your skin and soul, you realized something far more dangerous.

You didn’t want to be free.

Not from him.

Never from him.

[little-jana]

"Fractured Edges"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: raised voices, emotional distress, fighting, case-talk, self-doubt, unresolved conflict, no comfort, mentions of Maeve

Summary: Spencer’s anger and fear explode after you put yourself in danger without telling him.

You had never seen Spencer Reid this angry before.

Not when cases went sideways. Not when he was on the receiving end of ridicule. Not even when his own life was at risk.

But now? Now, as he stood in front of you, his hands clenched into fists, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths—you realized there was an entirely different side of Spencer you had never seen before. One that wasn’t built from logic and facts, but from raw, unfiltered emotion.

And it terrified you.

"You lied to me," he snapped, his voice like glass breaking against concrete.

Your stomach twisted. "Spencer, I didn’t—"

"Don't." He shook his head, his jaw tight, his entire body rigid with barely restrained fury. "Don't insult me by pretending like it wasn’t a lie."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling deep in your chest. "I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "Oh, so you knew I’d be upset? That makes it better?" He took a step forward, his eyes burning into yours. "What else have you kept from me?"

The question hit you harder than it should have.

"It wasn’t about you, Spencer," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I made a choice, and I stand by it."

"A choice?" His voice wavered, disbelief coloring every syllable. "You put yourself in danger, you took risks that could’ve—" He cut himself off, running a shaking hand through his hair.

You knew he was struggling to keep his composure. To hold back the fear that had transformed into anger.

And somehow, that hurt more than the words themselves.

"I did what I had to do," you said softly, but the words felt weak.

Spencer let out a sharp exhale, pacing now, hands gripping his hair in frustration. "God, you sound just like—" He stopped himself.

Your stomach dropped. "Like who?"

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to.

Maeve.

The name sat between you like an open wound, fresh and bleeding.

You sucked in a breath. "Spencer..."

"Don’t," he said again, but this time it wasn’t sharp—it was broken.

You wanted to reach for him, to tell him that this wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t losing you, that you weren’t her.

But the look in his eyes told you it didn’t matter.

He felt like he was losing you. And maybe, in a way, he already had.

“Tell me why you did it.”

The demand was quiet, but it didn’t lack force. Spencer had stopped pacing, his gaze pinning you to the spot.

You hesitated. He deserved an answer. You owed him that much.

But how could you explain it to him?

How could you put into words the way your stomach had twisted when you realized the danger—how it wasn’t a reckless decision but a necessary one? How could you explain that if you hadn’t done what you did, people would have died?

That he could have died?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it was the only option.”

“That’s bullshit,” Spencer snapped. His voice was sharper now, cutting through the tension like a blade. “There are always options. You just didn’t trust me enough to find another one.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t name. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t talk to me. You just—just decided without even thinking about what it would mean for the rest of us.”

For me.

The words weren’t spoken, but you heard them anyway.

You took a step forward. “Spencer, I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”

“But you did.” His voice wavered. “You did, and now you’re standing here, acting like I’m the one being unreasonable for being angry about it.”

You flinched. “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”

“No?” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his entire posture defensive, bracing. “Then why do you keep acting like this is something we can just move past?

Because you had to.

Because if you didn’t, if you stayed in this place of hurt and anger, you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from it.

But looking at Spencer now, at the way his hands were shaking, at the way his breath hitched when he tried to speak—you realized that maybe he wasn’t sure if he could come back from this either.

“I was scared,” you admitted. The words felt foreign, raw. “I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but it wasn’t about shutting you out, Spencer. It wasn’t about you.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice was quieter now, but the anger hadn’t faded—it had only settled, simmering beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t part of the equation,” he said. “You didn’t think about what this would do to me. To the team. You just decided that you’d handle it alone.”

The words stung.

You wanted to argue. To tell him that he was wrong, that you had thought about him—about all of them.

But had you?

Had you really stopped, for even a second, to think about what it would feel like for them to watch you put yourself in danger without so much as a word of warning?

Your silence must have given you away because Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spence, I—”

“You keep saying it wasn’t about me.” His voice cracked, and that was what finally shattered you. “But don’t you get it? It is about me. About all of us. About what happens when we lose someone else because they thought they could do it alone.”

He didn’t have to say her name.

The ghost of Maeve lingered between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

And now, you had wedged yourself into the same space—another person he cared about, another person who made a choice without him, another person who could have been taken away just as easily.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, and suddenly, it wasn’t anger in his eyes anymore. It was fear.

A deep, bone-deep kind of fear that made your chest ache.

You took a shaky breath. “You won’t.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “How can you be so sure?”

Because you weren’t.

And neither was he.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

Finally, Spencer inhaled sharply and took a step back. It was small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a chasm opening between you.

“I need time,” he said.

Your heart clenched. “Spencer—”

“I need time,” he repeated, and this time, his voice was steady. Firm.

Final.

And then he turned, walking away before you could stop him.

You didn’t chase after him.

You didn’t call out his name.

Because for the first time since you had known him, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be caught.

And that?

That hurt more than anything else.

[riddlesrizzler]

The Butterfly Effect

pt.3 of The Girl in the Bumblebee Tights

summary: The most beautiful things come from change. characters: mattheo riddle. hufflepuff! reader. mentions of slytherin boys warnings: NONE BUT GOD THIS MAKES MY HEART ACHE WITH LOVE word count: 1.8k a/n-i’m so glad that you all loved this little series!! it was so fun to write and i truly love whimsical hufflepuff! reader. sunshine x grumpy is one of my favorites along with opposites attract. i believe that this will be my last big part of the story. but i will be open to do little drabbles of them :)

He had always prided himself on being an enigma. Mattheo Riddle was cold, indifferent, and almost cruel at times, he never allowed anyone close enough to see what was behind his mask. But then you came into his life, and somehow, without even trying, you began to unravel him.

At first, it had been simple curiosity. He wanted to know what made you tick. The way you floated through life, seemingly untouched by the world's harsh realities, was a puzzle he couldn't resist. But as time passed, it was no longer about curiosity. It was about you.

You were different.

Your bright eyes that saw the world as if it were filled with magic. Your hands that always seemed to carry some forgotten trinket that, to everyone else, would be inconsequential, but to you, was a talisman of luck and hope. Your carefree spirit was infectious, and even Mattheo, with all his years of keeping his emotions in check, couldn’t help but feel drawn to you.

The more time they spent together, the more he found himself changing.

You had taught him about magical creatures, about the care and wonder that surrounded them. You’d shared stories about Thestrals, the quiet creatures that roamed the Forbidden Forest, showing him the delicate balance of life and death.

In return, he had tried to show you the thrill of Quidditch, the adrenaline of chasing a Quaffle through the air, the beauty in the speed of it all.

-

Later, Mattheo found himself on the shore of the Black Lake, where the soft murmur of water lapping at the banks mixed with the crisp autumn air. He wasn’t exactly sure how he had ended up there, but somehow, you had wandered into his world like a soft breeze. And now, you were here, sitting on the grass beside him, your fingers idly trailing through the blades of greenery.

There was something almost magnetic about the way you seemed to float through life-like nothing could touch you. It made Mattheo feel like he was seeing the world in a new light. Every moment with you was like a small, magical escape from the cold, harsh reality he had always known.

You were talking about something-maybe creatures, maybe the stars-his mind was distracted as it always was around you. That’s when it happened.

A delicate butterfly fluttered down from the air, landing right in the middle of his messy curls.

Mattheo blinked in surprise, watching the butterfly settle like it had found the perfect place to rest. He instinctively reached up to brush it away, but you were already laughing-soft, melodious, and light-your eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You look ridiculous,” you giggled, pointing at him, a playful glint in your eyes.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a reluctant smirk. “Ridiculous, huh? You’d think so.”

But then he caught sight of your expression-your face alight with happiness, something he hadn’t realized he longed for.

For just a second, he felt foolish for being the butt of the joke. Yet, it wasn’t in a bad way. It was... different. It felt like something he had never experienced-being okay with looking ridiculous if it made you smile.

“You should leave it,” you teased. “It’s a sign.”

“A sign?” Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his voice half-amused, half-confused.

You nodded, looking so sincere it almost startled him. “Yeah. butterflies are symbols of change, you know. They represent the change in someone’s soul. It’s about transformation, the evolution of who you are.”

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you spoke, so earnestly, like you truly believed in these small, magical things that others might find silly.

But to you, they were real. Everything around you had meaning, had purpose. Even a butterfly on his head had significance.

“Change, huh?” Mattheo repeated quietly, the word rolling off his tongue as if it were something entirely new. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what to do with the feeling creeping into his chest.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice softening as you gazed out at the lake, watching the water ripple beneath the gray skies. “The thing about change is that it’s inevitable, but it’s also beautiful. You can’t grow without it. You have to change in order to become something more-something better.”

He felt something stir inside him. It was like a quiet warmth, creeping up from the pit of his stomach. For the first time in his life, he considered that maybe... maybe he had been stuck for far too long.

Maybe he hadn’t allowed himself to change because he was too afraid of what that would mean.

And then, he realized: you were the one who had made him feel that way. Your presence, your lightness, your carefree spirit-it had started to loosen the tight grip he had on his heart. Maybe he wasn’t so cold anymore. Maybe, in some small, inexplicable way, he was transforming.

He glanced at you, his gaze softening as he watched the butterfly flutter its wings before flying off into the sky.

For the briefest moment, Mattheo wondered if the butterfly had been a message for him. A message to let go of the walls he had built around himself. Maybe he had already started changing without even realizing it.

And as if reading his mind, you turned to him with a smile, one that made his heart skip a beat. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How something so small, so delicate, can be so powerful?”

He couldn’t help but nod, his throat feeling tight. There was something about the way you spoke, the way you saw the world, that made him feel as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Then, he saw it.

Hanging delicately from your neck was a necklace-a simple gold chain with a tiny butterfly pendant resting just above your collarbone. It was small, almost unnoticeable unless someone was paying close attention.

For the first time, Mattheo realized that you, too, were changing. You were blossoming, evolving, and he wanted to be there with you for every step of it.

“Is that your lucky charm?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You smiled softly and nodded. “It’s a reminder that beauty comes from change. That growth comes from embracing the unknown. It reminds me that I don’t have to stay the same, that I can always become something better, just like the butterfly.”

He was silent for a moment, the weight of your words settling deep in his chest. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you just how much he was beginning to feel the same way. But instead, he simply reached out, brushing his fingers gently over your hand, grounding himself in the moment. He couldn’t explain it, but being with you made him feel like he belonged-like he was no longer drifting through life, untouched and distant from everything and everyone.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft with understanding, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like he needed to hide any part of himself. You made him feel like it was okay to be vulnerable, to allow things to change, to allow himself to grow.

"And I think…” you paused, smiling softly, “that’s what you’re doing. You’re changing, Mattheo.”

-

When Mattheo found himself with his friends in the Great Hall, they immediately noticed the shift in him.

“You’ve changed, mate,” Theo remarked with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not the same prick you were at the start of the year.”

Mattheo smirked, though it didn’t hold the usual biting edge. He felt… lighter.

And it didn’t feel wrong.

“I guess I have,” he said simply, glancing across the room to where you had just walked by, looking like a dream in your soft, floral dress.

Draco, ever the skeptic, gave him a hard look. “So, what? You’re really into her, huh?”

Mattheo’s eyes softened as they followed your figure. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now, full of a sincerity none of his friends had ever heard from him before. “But it feels okay.”

Enzo, leaning back in his seat, let out a low whistle. “Alright, mate. You’ve gone soft.”

Mattheo let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You can mock me all you want, but I’m not going back. Not this time.”

His thoughts drifted back to you, and that butterfly that had rested so delicately in his hair.

-

The next day, he found you in the greenhouse, kneeling down and carefully planting flowers in a bed of rich, earthy soil. You were in your element, and the sight of you-calm, serene, so fully yourself-made his chest tighten.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching you. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on your task. The sunlight streaming in through the glass windows bathed you in a golden glow, your hands dirtied from the plants, your face soft with concentration.

And then, without thinking, he moved toward you.

“You’re always here,” he said, his voice quiet, but there was a tenderness in it now.

You looked up, eyes widening with surprise, but there was no hesitation. “I love the greenhouse,” you replied with a smile. “It’s peaceful.”

“I get it,” he said, his voice a little lower than usual. “I feel… peaceful here too.”

You smiled, though there was a spark of curiosity in your gaze.

Mattheo’s throat felt dry as he knelt beside you, his fingers brushing the dirt on the ground. He wasn’t good with words, but he had learned that sometimes, sometimes you have to change in order to grow.

He turned to you, his eyes intense. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Be my girlfriend. You’ve changed me in ways I can’t even explain, and I don’t want to grow without you.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and your hands shook as you reached up to cup his face. His eyes were full of something raw, something vulnerable, something you had never expected to see from Mattheo Riddle.

Without a word, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His breath caught, and he kissed you back, gently, carefully, like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

As you pulled away, you noticed the faint remnants of dirt on his cheeks. You laughed softly, wiping it away with your thumb.

But just as the moment seemed to settle, something fluttered past, and both of you looked up. A butterfly, the same kind that had landed in his curls earlier, flitted into the greenhouse and landed delicately on one of the plants beside you.

Mattheo smiled, feeling something inside him shift.

“You’re right,” he whispered, his hand finding yours. “I’m changing. And I think I like who I’m becoming.”

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the greenhouse windows, with the butterfly hovering nearby, He realized that maybe-just maybe-he had finally found his place in the world.

And it was with you.

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@thaliashifts

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I Can Tell You About Pain

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader Warnings: Canon typical incest, dubious consent with allusions to no consent, smut. Word count: ~4.6k

Summary: When Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing to petition Lucerys's claim to Driftmark, Aemond is eager for revenge for the loss of his eye. However, what he does not anticipate is the object of his ire becoming his niece instead of his nephew.

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Aemond sits in his chambers, beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other. His eyepatch is discarded on the table in front of him, his index finger absentmindedly running the length of the scar that ravages the left side of his face.

It had itched incessantly since he had learned the news that his half sister, Rhaenyra, and her family would be arriving in King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark. His scar always grew irritated at the mention of Luke, a reminder of the boy who had permanently disfigured him and left him without an eye. It was a crime for which Luke had never been reprimanded, and so Aemond had spent almost a decade allowing his anger and resentment to fester, thinking of all of the ways he would seek revenge should he ever see him again. 

He knows exactly when they have arrived the next day as he spars in the training yard with Cole; he spots the two dark haired boys circling, and takes a moment to lean against the table of weapons before him, steeling himself. He imagines grabbing a blade and carving out one of his nephew’s eyes in exchange for his. Luke had taken his left, perhaps he’d take his right, a fair exchange.

Snapped out of his reverie by Cole beckoning him forward, he picks up his blade and advances towards him. He knows that Jace and Luke will be watching, and so he works hard to put on a display that will show he’s no longer the sullen, little boy they used to torment. He is a man grown, a warrior that they should respect and fear. He ducks and weaves against Cole’s morningstar, throwing away his shield as it splinters under impact, until finally he seizes the advantage, the point of his blade directed towards his opponent’s neck. 

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Criston tells him, “you will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” he utters, turning to face the two dark haired boys who stare up at him in shock. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

He is unable to stop the malevolent smirk that tugs at his lips, seeing fear in their eyes as they gaze at him. There is revenge enough in knowing that while he has advanced in training with the sword, transformed himself into a foe which any man would find themselves unlucky to cross blades with upon a battlefield, they have remained frightened, sniveling little boys that still cling to their mother’s skirts for protection. It is not enough to satisfy him though. Not yet.

Having bathed and changed, he joins his family in the throne room, as the court gathers to hear the petitions for the succession of Driftmark. He stands tall and proud beside his brother, sister and mother, as his grandsire sits the throne in his father’s stead.

His eye sweeps the hall, seeing Vaemond Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and her granddaughter, Baela, standing to one side. On the other is Rhaenyra, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, his uncle, Daemon, and his daughter, Rhaena. And then he spots her.

Aemond had utterly forgotten of her existence; born a year after Jace, and a year before Luke, his niece. She is as tall as her mother now, and has her father’s hair - her real father’s hair - long, dark curls that, despite being half pinned up, fall almost to her waist. She is soft featured, with Rhaenyra’s striking blue eyes. It baffles him that a Strong bastard could be so pleasing to look upon, and he purses his lips in disgust, forcing himself to look away as he reflects back upon what she had been like as a child.

She never joined in with the relentless teasing that Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys had subjected him to. She had spent all of her time with Helaena, from what he can remember, the two of them sat side by side, Helaena holding up insects and describing them to her, as she flicked through the pages of books trying to see if records of them already existed, so that they could learn more about them.

The night that he had lost his eye, she had remained next to his sister, looking on with concern as he had his wound stitched closed. He remembered thinking it odd at the time that she was not with Luke and Jace, but his mind was so addled from the effects of milk of the poppy that nothing is clear, beyond the image of her mother bursting into the hall of Driftmark and tugging her away, back to her own family.

As the petitions are heard, even when his own father arrives unexpectedly, announcing he will sit the throne today, he finds his attention drawn to her, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be a meek little thing, keeping her eyes downcast, seeming ashamed of her own presence in the room. A trait that all Strong bastards ought to possess, in his opinion. Yet as the moments pass by and she does not look up, he finds himself growing increasingly irritated that she won’t look at him, despite how desperately he wills her to.

“Her children are bastards!” Shouts Vaemond, before turning to Rhaenyra, his voice lowering, “and she is a whore.”

Elation spreads like a warm glow through Aemond’s body, his attention finally pulled away from his niece to look upon the horrified expressions of his nephews and half sister. Serves them right. Finally someone is saying it out loud. 

When he casts his gaze back upon his niece, her eyes are still fixed upon the floor. However, he sees the subtlety with which her bottom lip trembles, the light flush of her cheeks. She is about to cry.

Look at me.

The room falls silent as Daemon’s sword slices through Vaemond’s head, and it is only then that her head snaps up, her eyes tear filled and wide with shock, meeting Aemond’s. He finds himself smirking again, a quiet victory. Not only had the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children been brought loudly into question once more, but now he had the attention of his niece. He had forgotten her in the passing of so many years, but now she is within reach again, he will ensure she certainly never forgets him. The next time tears fill her pretty eyes he wants to be the cause of them.

Aemond groans when his mother informs him that the following evening they are to dine as a family, a request from his father to unite them all, having reestablished Luke’s inheritance. He resents the idea of breaking bread with people he does not like, that do not like him, to have to sit at the same table and make pleasantries with the boy who half blinded him.

But she would be there. He wonders where she is now. Her mother had been swift to hurry her from the throne room after the decapitation of Vaemond Velaryon, and he is unsure of which apartments within the Keep she now occupies.

He finds himself stalking the corridors of the usually unoccupied quarters of Maegor’s Holdfast, his eye scanning every closed door, wondering which is the room that she occupies. He pulls to a stop at the top of a staircase as he sees familiar long, dark curls flowing down slender shoulders, disappearing into a doorway before it closes behind her.

Her chambers are unguarded, and before he has a chance to stop himself, his feet carry him down the steps towards them, his knuckles rapping at the wooden door. It’s only when he hears the rustle of movement from the other side that his mind begins to race.

What if she is not alone?

What did he even intend to do if she was unattended?

He briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving, however, no sooner has the thought occurred to him than his niece is opening the door, startling at the sight of him, lips parting in shock. She is even prettier up close, despite her reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Aemond?”

Despite the confusion that laces her voice, it is soft and dulcet toned. He wants to hear her say his name a hundred times over, for it has never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.

He inhales deeply through his nose, preparing himself to speak. “You are understandably upset by that business with our uncle and Vaemond. I have come to check on you, to make sure you are alright.”

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, blinking a few times as she regards him carefully. “Oh…that is…kind of you. My mother has said I ought to rest.”

“Perhaps you might welcome some company?” He offers. “It would be unwise for you to be alone after witnessing something so bloody.”

She draws back a little at the suggestion, her mouth opening to speak before closing again, her brow furrowing.

Aemond fights the urge to smile at her hesitation. Reaching forward, he crooks a finger beneath her chin. “Do I frighten you so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me?”

Gasping, she shakes her head fervently as his hand drops away. “N–no! It is just…it has been such a long time, and the last time I saw you, you…my brother…your eye…”

He cocks his head, pushing down the resentment that bubbles to the surface at the mention of what had happened to him. “But have you not heard? My father is hosting a dinner for us all tomorrow, to unite our families once more. There is no need for you to be so cautious, allow yourself to be reacquainted with your uncle.”

Her gaze lowers for a moment, as she appears to consider his offer. “Yes, I suppose that would be nice,” she finally says, looking back up at him.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter.

Too easy, he thinks to himself as he steps inside. There would be almost no sport in this if the fight she means to put up is so feeble.

He strides into the room, hands clasped behind his back, noting the lack of personal effects within the space, a reminder that she is a visitor. This is his home, not hers. He has the upper hand.

“Apologies, Uncle,” she utters nervously, shifting from foot to foot as she fidgets restlessly with her fingers. “I had not anticipated your visit, this room is ill equipped for guests. I have no chair to offer you.”

“That is quite alright,” he tells her amicably, forcing a soft smile before sitting upon the edge of the bed. “We are family, are we not? Such formalities are not necessary.”

He pats the space beside him. “Come, join me, we have much to catch up on.”

She hesitates a moment, before sitting next to him. There is something about the feeling of the dip in the mattress beside him, combined with the floral scent of her filling his nostrils that sends the thrill of a shiver through his body, and he turns to look at her, eyeing her much like a cat would a mouse.

Such a pretty little thing.

“I am truly sorry, for what Luke did to you,” she begins, “I—”

He waves a hand dismissively, forcing down the anger that threatens to burst forth. “Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past. Tell me, how is life upon Dragonstone treating you?”

She chews her lip, hesitating a moment before she speaks. “Truthfully, it is lonely. I miss King’s Landing. Jace and Luke have one another, and mother is preoccupied with her pregnancy and Joffrey and the babes. Daemon pays me no mind, and while I am grateful for Rhaena’s company, I can tell she misses her sister. I am a poor substitute for Baela.”

He hums with faux concern, allowing a moment of silence to present his next words as thoughtful. “You could never be a poor substitute for anything. And I expect you will soon be away from there anyway. I can imagine you have no end of suitors all vying for your hand.”

The hint of a blush turns her cheeks pink as she casts her gaze downward. “No, not yet. I have overheard Rhaenys talking with my mother. They wish to betroth Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke. There are no such plans for me. What about you? Are you to be married?”

“Not yet,” he says softly, meeting her eye as she looks up at him. “I have been waiting for the right woman to capture my interest. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we both find ourselves unattached?”

“What do you mean, uncle?” She asks, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Baela and Jace, Rhaena and Luke,” he shifts his hand across the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. “You and I.”

She gasps softly, though she does not wrench her hand away as he had anticipated. “Is this some sort of trick, Aemond?”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, moving closer. “What better way to unite our family once more?”

“We hardly know each other,” she utters softly.

“And yet you have scarce left my thoughts all these years,” he lies. “Let me kiss you.”

Before she has a chance to respond, he is pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens at first, taken aback by his forwardness, but soon responds, her supple mouth moving against his. He brings his hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly, the skin soft as peach fuzz beneath his calloused fingertips.

She sighs softly as he deepens the gesture, her inexperience showing as her tongue retreats from his as it slips into her mouth. It serves only to stoke the fire that rages within, tightening  his breeches as the sensation of her saliva causes his cock to swell.

Pulling away from her mouth, he moves his hand from her cheek, sinking it into her silky curls, anchoring her in place as he places hot, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck, making his way down towards her clavicle, relishing the way her head tips back slightly and her eyes flutter closed.

Tugging down the neckline of her bodice, he fights to suppress a groan of desire at the sight of her bared breasts, the hardened peaks ruddy and inviting. She is putting up so little resistance that it emboldens him to press forward, capturing a rosy bud between his lips and suckling as his tongue flicks against it, causing her to arch and mewl.

A whore, just like her mother, he thinks, shifting his attention to the other and repeating the same motion. His blood feels like liquid fire in his veins as her breaths turn to soft pants. One hand massages the breast that he is currently not latched upon, while the other creeps beneath her skirts.

It is only when his fingertips ghost upon the top of her stocking that she suddenly pulls free of him, eyes wide and breaths ragged as she hurriedly readjusts her dress.

“We should not have…forgive me, I…” she stumbles over her words, flustered and looking on the verge of tears again, before hurrying from the room, leaving Aemond alone on the bed.

He growls in frustration, smacking his hand down upon the edge of the mattress. “Ilibītsos,” he mutters angrily. Little slut.

When he returns to his own chambers, he comes harder than he ever has before, such is the force with which he fists his cock, imagining the entire time that his niece is splayed beneath him, sighing softly with pleasure as she had for him earlier that day.

As his pleasure induced haze wears off, a feeling of shame settles over him. He does not quite understand how his infatuation with her has taken hold so quickly, but now that it is, he is unable to shake it. Worse still, when she ran from her bedchamber, what if she had gone straight to her mother and told her of what he had done to her? It would be a disgrace from which he would never recover if his own mother were to be privy to such information.

He hides himself away the next day, embarrassed to face any of his family for fear they will know of his transgressions, until finally he is summoned to the feast that he has been dreading.

Much to his surprise, the entire day has passed without angry confrontation or a tongue lashing from his mother, and as he enters the dining hall there are no looks of shock or disgust to be met with, simply the shy smile of his niece as she looks up at him from her seat between her two brothers.

She has not told anyone, and she does not appear to regret what had transpired between them.

Aemond settles into his seat at the head of the table with a smug sense of pride. The dinner is a tawdry affair, musicians playing tunes he does not care for are stationed in the corner, while endless trays and bowls of food are brought out to them all. 

He listens to his family toast to each other with a sneer, watching with barely concealed anger as Jace invites Helaena to dance. His only reprieve are the shy glances and smiles that his niece directs his way across the table. Perhaps all is not lost.

It is not until a suckling pig is brought out and settled before him that he is no longer able to contain his temper. Seeing Luke smirk at him, a reminder of the pig he had been taunted with in place of a dragon as a child, is too much. Is it not enough that his nephew has taken his eye, but now he continues to mock him too? He will not stand for such an insult.

Abruptly, he slams his first upon the table, halting the music and chatter within the room, as he rises from his chair, raising his wine cup.

“Final tribute,” he announces, eye scanning the room, careful not to include his niece in his speech, lest he foils the plans he has especially for her. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

The ensuing scuffle passes by in a blur for Aemond, resulting in him pushing Jace to the floor before they are all dismissed to their quarters. He hangs back, out of sight, waiting for Jace and Luke to disappear from sight, before striding after his niece.

She whips around, looking angrily up at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Why would you do that? You’ve ruined everything!”

“Forgive me,” he utters gently, taking her hands in his, “I lost my temper, but you have to know that my anger was never directed at you.”

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Jace and Luke’s betrothals were announced tonight. I was hoping we could announce ours too. Now my mother will never agree to it.”

Pride and satisfaction swell within his chest as he gazes down at her. He raises an eyebrow. “You wish to marry me? I had thought you were refusing my proposal, considering how quick you were to flee from me yesterday.”

“It all happened so fast. I have never been touched in that way before, and I allowed it to frighten me, I am sorry for it. But having had time to think on it, I do want to be your wife.”

He smiles down at her, seeing eye shining malevolently. “Then let the news of our betrothal be the balm that soothes all hurts upon the morrow.”

She smiles happily at him. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, Uncle.”

“So soon? I thought perhaps we might pick up where we left off yesterday.”

She flushes a delicate red. “Would it not be better to wait until we are wed?”

“I will not push you further than you wish to go,” he whispers, before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards into her bedchamber.

He is quick to cover her body with his own as she topples back against the softness of the mattress, kissing her fiercely as his hands push her skirts roughly up and over her hips.

“I thought you did not wish to push me?” She whispers breathlessly, pulling back from his lips.

“I shall not, talus,” he reassures her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her the bare skin of her thighs, “but that does not mean I will not make you beg for it.” Niece.

Kissing her deeply once more, he shifts down her body, dragging her small clothes down and off of her leg in one fluid movement, before spreading the plushness of her thighs, his single eye drinking in the glistening sight of her cunt spread out before him.

He smiles to himself as he drags the tip of his tongue through her folds, hearing the way her breath hitches, his hands forcefully holding her down, keeping her still, as she attempts to buck her hips. He almost groans at the tart taste of her, his mouth quick to envelope her, alternating between sucking messily at her pearl and laving the flat of his tongue against her.

She writhes, pinned to the bed by her pelvis by his forceful grip, wanton sounds of pleasure escaping her as she clutches the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Lapping greedily at her as she falls apart against his tongue, he almost spends in his breeches taking in the sight of her arched back, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks and trembling thighs. But he is not finished yet.

The moment she settles back against the bed, her body spent and pliant, he begins his assault anew, this time crooking two fingers inside of her, rubbing urgently against the rough patch inside of her as his tongue focuses purposefully on her sensitive nub. The desperate sounds she makes are music to his ears. She is impossibly tight, he wonders how he will ever fit inside, but is all the more determined to find out as he sends her hurtling and crying out once more into the throes of another torturous release.

“Stop, stop!” She whines, attempting to back up the bed away from him, as he attempts to settle his face between her thighs a third time. “I cannot take it anymore.”

“If I am inside of you, it will not feel quite so intense,” he whispers, not moving an inch from where he lays between her legs, his chin shiny and sticky with her arousal.

“We are not yet married, Uncle, we should not,” she protests feebly.

“But we will be,” he insists, “so what does it matter? And I am afraid I have not had my fill of you, talus, so we shall have to continue as we are if you do not wish for me to be inside of you.”

“Gods…please…no…anything, just no more of that, it is too much.”

He smirks at her ruined state, bringing himself up towards her face, his voice dark. “Beg me for it.”

“Please, Aemond, please,” she cries, “put it inside, I cannot stand anymore.”

He grins wolfishly, as his fingers move to the lacings of his trousers, untying them and shucking the material past his hips.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he places the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her opening, his eye flickering to her face for any signs of hesitation. She still looks utterly wrecked, her expression one of hazy bliss, her eyes glassy. Taking this as silent permission, he presses forward, hissing through his teeth at the resistance he is met with.

She whimpers softly, in clear discomfort, as he continues to push inward slowly, looking between her face, her brow furrowed and lips parted, and where their bodies are joining together.

He feels something give way, before he is fully rooted within her.

Her maidenhead.

Aemond fights the prideful grin that wants to spread itself across his face. His nephew had taken his eye, now in turn he had taken his niece’s virtue.

He stills, waiting for her to adjust, before moving slowly, dragging his hips back before pushing softly forward, repeating the motion. He desperately wants to snap his hips against hers, to make her cry out in pain, to disregard her comfort, but he is not a monster, he reasons. Her innocence soaking his length is payment enough.

Remembering how her body had responded so positively to his affections the previous day, he tugs down her plunging neckline with two fingers, freeing the softness of her breasts, leaning down to press gentle kisses against them, before suckling a nipple into his mouth.

She moans quietly, her body loosening up, becoming less tense beneath his, making it feel more pleasurable for him in turn. He means to be gentle with her, he really does, but feeling her grow wetter around him makes it impossible for him not to speed up his thrusts, driving into her faster, harder, causing her to whine and whimper as he trails his mouth across her chest. So lost in the sensation of her, he barely registers her delicate fingers clutching desperately at his hair and shoulders.

He knows he is done for when she squeezes around him, he knows he ought to pull out, to spill himself across the creamy white skin of her lower belly and thighs, but she is so warm, so wet, so tight around him that he cannot bring himself to leave her. He finds himself chasing his own end inside of her, his hips moving of their own accord, until finally, with a blinding white heat that tingles at the very base of his spine, he groans loudly, pulsating and spending inside of her in hot, powerful spurts.

Allowing himself a moment to settle against her, he basks in the warm afterglow of his peak, before pulling slowly out, disentangling his limbs from hers as his breath comes in shallow pants. He kneels up on the bed, pulling his trousers back over himself and fastening them. He allows himself to drink in the sight of her, her dress and hair in utter disarray, the sticky mess between her legs, her kiss swollen lips and faraway stare. Utter perfection.

It is not until he stands from the bed, smoothing over his clothing and hair with his hands that she finally comes back to reality and pulls herself up to rest upon her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my chambers,” he says coolly, “I have gotten what I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, worry lacing her tone, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Your bastard brother took my eye. Now I’ve taken the only thing that makes you worth a damn.”

Her voice wobbles, tears rimming her eyes as they widen in realisation, pulling at her dress to cover herself. “You said you would marry me…”

“I lied.”

“Why?! Why me?!”

He shrugs. “You made it easy. You might want to have the maester brew you a tea though, unless the bastard also wants a bastard.”

“I will tell my mother,” she whispers tearfully.

“Go ahead. I will deny it. Who will believe you? If you birth a silver haired babe, there is nothing to suggest that it is not a result of my brother forcing himself upon you, or perhaps our uncle. Your mother was younger than you, I believe, when he first started to show an interest in her. So if I were you, I would have the tea brewed and keep quiet, unless you wish to be branded a whore as well as a bastard.”

“You are a monster!” She spits, shoulders shaking as she sobs.

“Drīves, talus,” he utters, turning to leave her bedchamber. “Ñuha drīva issa.” Justice, niece. I have justice.

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