#vote queen vote queen vote queen vote queen vote queen v | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viaoverthemoon · 10 months

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Thank y'all for all the votes!

Let me know if you all would like more, in which I can possibly post it in parts on here!

Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader (Medieval Universe)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Your family's kingdom is under attack and Leon's family offers protection. Everyone thinks this is your first time seeing Leon ever since your betrothal. If only they knew...

Tw: MEDIEVAL TIMELINE AND SPEECH, some characters not from the RE-verse/they will be in later parts if y'all want it, mention of battle and injury (not detailed), fluff, SMUT, but it's kinda soft, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virginity loss, minor description of pain, fingering, orgasm denial(?), sorry the smut is long as hell, BUT ITS WORTH IT PROMISE, Sudden ending

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!

Enjoy! <3

☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.

The nature of the Kingdom of Duevaula is certainly not what you were expecting it to be.

People spoke of the lands as though it were surrounded by fires, commoners walking around subdued by chains are constantly guarded by cruel soldiers.

Instead, healthy trees grow far and wide around the kingdom, children running in the streets laughing as older kids chase them with no malice. Soldiers patrol the area, but most of them look carefree, conversating with locals and playing with the children.

"Sister? Are you alright?"

The voice of your sister pulls you from your thoughts, eyes drifting to the 12-year-old at your side as she places a hand on yours. "Yes, Nara Vella. I'm fine."

Of course, she sees right through you. "Are you certain? I know the events that took place at home may have been-"

"Nara... That is enough. Thank you for asking, but I am fine."

Nara Vella scrunches her nose, about to say more but the carriage comes to a stop and a trumpet blares.

"We're here."

You listen as The Herald announces your parents, the king and queen of The Kingdom of Islandia, but your heart can't stop pounding.

You and your sister rise just before your carriage door opens. Since you are the first born, your name is announced first.

"Announcing the firstborn Princess of The Kingdom of Islandia, (Y/N) (L/N)."

You stop out of the carriage accepting the footman's outstretched hand. All eyes are on you as your navy-blue skirts brush against the concrete, but your eyes are on one person alone.

Your sister is announced behind you, and you step forward to the man infront of you.

You drop into a curtsy. "Your highness."

He bows deeply. "My lady."

Your eyes meet his, the light of a secret hidden in your gazes. He offers an arm, and you accept it, walking with him behind both of your parents.

Prince Leon.

You were betrothed to him at the age of 6, back when your kingdoms were butting heads, resulting in a feud, and needed a way to end the hostility between them. 13 years later, everyone thinks this is the first time you've seen each other since. But it isn't.

Leon had first sent you a private letter when you were 13 years old, requesting your presence at a hidden lake that rested in the middle of your parents' territories. Your heart had raced, excited for a new adventure in life, and you immediately rushed to meet him there.

You've been seeing each other there for years, playing in the waters, having picnics in the soft grass, feeding each other strawberries and chocolates, and reading in silence. Just enjoying each other's presence.

You shared tiny kisses at the lake a few times, but never went any farther in fear of what could happen if anyone found out you'd lost your purity.

You smile at him and lower your voice. "It's been too long since I last saw you, your highness."

He hums, placing his hand on top of yours. You both know it's only been 2 weeks, but who's counting? "Yes, my lady. Far too long. I was beginning to forget the feeling of your soft lips against mine..." He lowered his head, brushing his lips against your ear. "Perhaps, when we are alone, you could remind me?"

☆

Hours later, you and your family sit in the dining room with the Kennedys. All parents, along with Leon, had been locked away in the war room for hours, discussing ways to save the Kingdom of Islandia after it was attacked by another kingdom that sought revenge against your father, the king.

You'd all barely escaped with your lives, most being unscathed, but you, your mother, and your personal guard Jill, hadn't recovered from a couple injuries. Your sister brings up this fact during dinner.

"If it wasn't for (Y/N), I would've been walking around with one leg instead of two!" She dramatically waves her hands around as you try to shush her, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"Nara Vella! Mind yourself! We do not speak of those events at the dinner table!"

She merely giggles, whispering an apology before returning to her plate. You sigh, about to turn back to your own food, but you feel a pair of eyes on you.

You glance at Leon from across the table through your peripheral, noticing his frown.

'Are you alright?' He mouths. You smile reassuringly and nod, raising a brow and offering a teasing smile.

'Worried about me, your highness?'

He only rolls his eyes, seemingly looking at his plate but peeking up at you through his lashes. 'Always, my lady.'

☆

You sit in your chambers after dinner, trying to sew a tear in the dress you'd worn on that fateful night.

It had been washed and dried, but it suffered damage from sword and arrow grazes. And you couldn't just let it be ruined. It's one of your favorites, a gift from your mother when you finally came of age.

It held far too many memories.

A soft knock comes from your door and, suspecting it was your sister, you call to it. "Enter."

You become frustrated with the sew, accidentally pricking your finger with the needle. You curse, yanking your hand away and to your mouth.

Admittingly, the stitch is not the only thing that has you frustrated.

After the feast, you'd tried to get Leon's attention so the two of you could find a moment alone. But he was instantly pulled away by his father, who began to speak of kingly duties and war experience.

You knew that talk would take a while.

"Nara Vella, I am truly not in the mood right now. This damn stitch is going to be the death of-"

"Is this how you speak when I am not around?"

You yelp, spinning around and dropping your materials.

Leon, your betrothed, leans against your chamber doors.

He smirks at you, approaching you at a slow pace.

"How did you- I thought your father would have you occupied for a while..." You stand, wringing your hands and shifting nervously, trying not to pay any mind to his predatory gaze. He offers a teasing smirk.

"I have my ways," He steps into your space, his chest nearly touching yours, and lifts a hand. You immediately relax, nuzzling your cheek into the palm of his hand.

He hums and you sigh, relishing in the presence of one another. "You're certain? That you are not hurt?"

You sigh, placing your hand on top of his. "Yes, Leon. I really am fine."

You feel him let out an exhale, his shoulders dropping in relief. "Good. Because if anyone left lasting damage on you, I'd take the throne right now and declare-"

You smack his chest, glaring up at him. "Leon! You will not declare war on a kingdom any time soon!"

He only throws his head back and laughs, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Alright! Relax, my lady. I only jest..." You huff a breath through your nose, staring at his deep blue eyes and wide smile.

These were the moments you truly missed.

While the both of you tried to keep visitations strictly scheduled for once a month, it was pure torture to be away from him that long.

You inhale his air, a deep, husky scent of forest mixed with wildfire.

"I have prayed and waited every night to be in your arms again. I had never known this would be the reason why..." Your other hand grasps his shirt, holding onto him so tightly one would think he might disappear.

"Dreadful circumstance or not, I finally get to see your face again..." Leon raises your chin, your eyes shifting between his eyes and his lips. "And you, finally get to remind me of your taste..."

You could swear sparks fly when your lips meet.

Hot, searing passion colliding to create a love that is hidden behind closed doors. His fingers comb through your hair, your fingernails scratch against his loose sleeve shirt.

His tongue brushes against your lips and your heart leaps, your lips instinctively opening. A gasp comes from those parted lips. Your back arches and Leon chases you, hand lowering to grip the silk material of your robes.

He parts from you all too soon, dipping his head and placing wet kisses along your neck. A moan escapes your lips and the both of you freeze, a pause filled with red hot tension.

Your nails dig into his shoulder, breaths coming out in short, quick gaps. "Perhaps-... Perhaps we should stop..."

"We should..."

And yet, no one moves.

You swallow, throat feeling tight. "If my mother-... If our families ever found out about this-"

His head leaves the crook of your neck, eyes gazing down at you with powerful determination. "They won't."

Your breathing shakes. "But- When that time comes-"

His hands grab your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him. "They. Won't." His thumb strokes your bottom lip, blue eyes burning. "Do you trust me?"

Your answer is immediate. "Of course."

His lips twitch. "Good. Then know, that they will never know. And we will never be separated."

His confidence brings forth your own.

You know this decision is a big one. A lady handing a man her virtue is something that with bind her to him forever.

And while you hate the hold that purity has on the ways of society... You know Leon is the only man you would ever give yourself to.

Your eyes widen, a desperate gleam shining in them. "Take me, Leon."

☆

Your naked body shines in the moonlight, every curve and crevice on display for him, and him alone.

Leon stands at the foot of your bed, staring down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes.

You'd both stripped each other of their clothes in record time, a cluster of rushing hands and pitiful whines. You try not to stare at his... rather intimidating manhood, that stands tall and hard as rock. Albeit, he stares at you without shame.

His eyes rake over every inch over your body, starting at your ankles. Then moving to your legs, then your hips, your stomach, breasts, lips and finally your eyes. His bright blue oceans of eyes had turned into a deep dark sea, leaving you panting and burning.

You open your arms, reaching for him. "Well? Do not stand there and stare..." You somehow keep your voice steady, the whimper in your throat begging to be released.

He smirks, jerking himself a few times, before placing his hands on the bed and crawling toward you.

You hesitate, and then spread your legs. He settles between them, hot palms landing on your thighs and causing the skin to be set ablaze.

Your heart pounds in your ears, breathing turning heavy and legs shaking.

You're afraid. Excited! But afraid.

Many of the older ladies had said that their firsts were blissful, yet excruciatingly painful. But others said it was not as bad as it seems.

This left you with uncertainty, gooseflesh rising on your arms as you try your best to keep your emotions at bay.

But of course, Leon reads you like an open book.

He caresses the soft skin of your thighs, thumbs moving in small, calming circles. "You have nothing to fear, (Y/N)." He leans down, running his nose over your cheek. "Of course, I would never do anything to hurt you. It is never too late to stop-"

He barely gets the words out before your hands harshly grip his biceps. "No! I mean- um... I want this, Leon. More than anything." Your grip relaxes and you offer a reassuring smile.

He smiles back at you.

The heavy atmosphere returns when he leans down again, lips skimming your throat as his length nudges your sensitive ball of nerves.

You nearly jump out of your skin; a sharp gasp leaves you.

Leon feels your nervousness, and, luckily, knows just the cure.

A hand creeps down your body, getting lower... lower...

Until rough, calloused fingers slip between your folds.

A loud moan is quickly cut off by his lips.

Hopefully your guards aren't paying too close attention to your chambers...

Your knees bend, eyes clenching shut as Leon swallows all of your noises. His fingers work slow circles of pleasure into your clit, the sensation one you've never felt before.

Much like getting too close to a hot fire in the blazing cold of a harsh winter, it warms your insides and leaves your outside wanting more.

You throw your head back, the back of your fist flying to your mouth as you try to hold back the sounds your throat nearly let's burst out.

"Hah... Leon-..."

His name rolls from your tongue as a soft whisper, words stuttering off into a sharp inhale as his fingers graze over your soaking hole.

Your other hand grips the soft sheets, body giving in as he completely takes control. Your eyes lock with his.

He's deep in concentration, breathing shallow and sweat matting his blonde hair to his forehead.

Gaze lowering, you see the angry red color of his girth. It throbs, begging for attention while trying its hardest to sit still and look pretty.

"Nuh-uh. Eyes up here, princess." Your glossy eyes snap back to his, mouth slightly agape and brows pulled together. Leon smirks, pleased with your expression. "You can make that up to me later. But this moment, is for you."

His other hand gently removes your hand from your lips, soft sighs coated in ecstasy falling from them immediately.

The pressure builds as you roll your hips to meet his fingers. He slowly slides a finger into you, watching your expression as it shifts. He keeps another finger working on your nerves, so the one inside only adds to the pleasure.

You cry out when he adds a second one, now feeling a slight sense of discomfort, but still pleasure. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, mumbling praises. You're surprised by the sound of his voice, slurring slightly as if he'd indulged in a tin of ale.

"Good job, princess... Doing such a good- hngh~... Does that- feel good, my lady?"

Your body seems to like the sound of Leon, if the new wave of slick was anything to go by.

You feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, your moans raising in volume as your back arches. You feel something coming. Not sure what it is, but your legs begin to shake. You wait in anticipation, every thought focused on the new stage of euphoria this feeling was going to bring... until Leon completely pulled away his hand.

You gasp, eyes snapping open. Your body falls limp as you catch your breath. "Wha-... Why-"

"I hope you do not mind if I become a little selfish, my lady..."

Your eyes snap to him, sitting up on your elbows and ready to reprimand him for denying you of your bliss, but your words are blown away.

Leon sits up on his knees, manhood curved upward in his hand as he strokes the length. Wet, sticky liquid leaks from the red tip, veins protruding from every angle.

Your air is taken away, leaving only enough to let out a sharp exhale.

"But... I want you coming undone only on my cock."

You eye him, switching between his eyes and his... cock, before nodding slowly. "Okay... Okay, Leon."

He leans down again, pressing wet kisses on your neck and cheeks, as his length glides between your folds. "I will not move until you're ready..." And then, he begins pushing himself inside.

Your nails dig into his shoulders with a gasp. His hand grips the pillows as he grunts. Both of you release soft noises of pain, holding onto each other as he continues to slowly enter you.

You hold back a scream when he finally bottoms out, doing your best to relax as to not hurt him anymore. You feel his soft kisses on your face as he apologizes continuously, hand roaming the skin of your waist as the other rubs circles into your clit again.

After what feels like forever, the pain slowly subsides and makes room for pleasure. Your grip on his shoulders loosens. You instead put them around his neck, digging your hands into his hair. "I'm ready, Leon... You can move-"

His hips snap against yours without warning.

You cry out, clinging to him as he begins to thrust into you at an animalistic rate. He grunts with every thrust, caging your body in as he loses himself.

"I have waited so long-. Please, please forgive me, sweet angel-"

Heavy panting and the smell of sex fills the air, the sound of skin meeting skin resounding within the room. Your moans and pleas do nothing to teeter the wild and rough movements of Leon's hips. He growls into your neck, holding your hips to keep you from getting away.

The knot is seconds away from snapping, but it feels stronger than it was before. Different even... Almost like you need to run to the pot. You feel overwhelmed, pushing at Leon's shoulders. "I can- I can't! It's too much- Ah! Leon-!"

The band snaps.

You scream, toes curling and back arching.

Your body pushes out a wave of liquid, most likely soiling your sheets. The feeling burns you inside and out, tensing all of your muscles and leaving you weak and trembling. You pant heavily, body still jerking from Leon roughly thrusting into you.

The after-bliss you'd once felt begins to feel uncomfortable. Overstimulated, you claw at his biceps in hopes of getting his attention.

He groans when he hears you whine. "Almost- Almost there-"

His thrusts get sloppy, his cock hitting somewhere so deep that it somehow prolongs the burn. You bite his collarbone to keep from screaming again.

It would seem that was his final push, as he pushes deep inside of you, releasing a low, husky groan and throwing his head back.

You watch as his entire body shudders, his grip on your hips tightening so much you're sure you'll have bruises in the morning.

A warm rush of liquid flows into you, seeming to be a never-ending flow as Leon falls limp, landing right beside you.

You'll definitely have to bribe your guards in the morning.

☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.☆*: .｡.

Whoops!

Sorry for ending it like that! If you guys want this to have more, let me know! I'll pick it up from here!

Let me know what you think!

Hope you enjoyed! <3

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

#viaoverthemoon #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon s kennedy smut #re4 leon #re4 #smut #resident evil leon #reader insert #leon smut #leon s kennedy #x y/n #x reader #resident evil x reader

502 notes · View notes

fandoms-writings · 1 year

Text

Adoring Fool

Part 1

Pairing: knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader

Word Count: 7.7K (don’t come at me, y’all voted for this to be a long one)

Summary: Sir James competes in the annual tourney every year, always winning in your name. But with how things have been the past couple weeks, his heads not quite in the game, not with the decision he’d made regarding his feelings for you - and the mystery person you mentioned courting.

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, katoptronophilia (sex involving a mirror), fingering, p in v sex, angst, minor injury, hurt/comfort, bucky is dense but so is reader a little bit, bucky and reader are emotional messes, forgive me for anything that doesn't line up with historical accuracies - i took a lot of creative liberty with this one. I will include a divider where the smut begins for those of you who do not wish to read it.

A/N: Thank you so so so much to my friend @perdidosbucky-yyo for talking with me on this and bouncing around ideas with me and for helping me bring these two to life and for beta reading it! I love youuuuu <3

Series Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost

The kingdom was busy recently, bustling with constant energy as everyone worked to ready for the Annual Tourney being held in your name. Townsfolk and servants alike had spent days readying the south field for the events and the town was decorating itself in the kingdom's colors as they prepared for the fair that would follow.

Usually, plenty of visitors meant that James was as near as ever, always keeping close just in case. But you hadn't seen much of him.

Steve had taken over most of his shifts during the day, and they'd switch around supper time. You'd asked him after the second day where he had been and he'd claimed he was training for the tourney. You missed having him near, talking and eating with him throughout the day, but he fought in the tourney every year. He fought in your name, for your honor - and won every year - so you didn't argue against him.

However, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. You knew he was training, you'd walked past the training grounds enough times to see him with your own two eyes, so it wasn't that.

Rather, it was the way he carried himself.

He didn't speak too much anymore and when he did, his tone was clipped, cold even. It'd grown difficult to carry a conversation with him without feeling like you were prying too much or without feeling desperate, so you'd let whatever exchange you were having die. You weren't sure what happened to make him so drastically change, but it was like he wasn't your James anymore, your Jamie.

You knew it had to do with what you'd told him at the gala a few weeks ago, but you didn't expect him to pull away from you like he had. So, even though you'd said you'd tell him, and you have had a few moments where you could have said something - where you wish you felt like you could - but you didn't want to anymore. Not until he was himself again.

You'd hoped that this tourney would do just that. Maybe after he let off some steam in the one on one combat he always competed in, he'd be back to normal. You'd even caught him in the halls early that morning, stopping him to wish him luck. He'd returned your wish with a glance and a small smile, looking down as he grew bashful like he always did. It filled you with a certain confidence that things were on the mend.

However, there was one thing that made that hope short-lived.

As per tradition, before each of the games commenced, the knights were given a moment of time to request the favor of whom they wished. They usually asked the ladies of the visiting houses, the women accepting and tying their fabric token to the knight's arm or the hilt of their sword.

When it came to James's turn, he sat atop his armored horse, Bandit, his helmet under his arm and his hair pulled back and tied in a low bun as he rode up to the stands. Your back straightened and your grip on your token tightened - he always asked for your favor, everyone knew it and it was why no one else dared to try to ask for it before he had the chance. This year, thinking that maybe this could be a chance to lift his spirits, you'd put a lot of work into it.

You'd embroidered flowers from the gardens that you two walked through on a weekly basis, making sure to include the ones he would always pick for you. You watched as he pulled Bandit's reins to stop him, the gray horse shaking his head, making his tourney armor rattle.

He glanced up at you, but it was fleeting as his eyes shifted to the seat next to you, and your heart stopped.

"Lady Natalia," he greeted her. You couldn't pull your eyes off of him as she, and every one of your other ladies, fell silent. "It would be an honor to have your favor on this day."

With that, your heart sunk through the floor, buried under the stands you and your ladies perched upon. You swallowed around the sudden lump in your throat.

"Um," She looked at you and you tore your eyes from his form. You glanced at her, giving her a small nod. It would be rude for her to deny him, and you weren't so pretentious to deny him asking someone who was not you. She looked back to him with a nod before standing and walking to the edge of the stands. She held her token out and once he closed the distance and offered the hilt of his sword, she tied the fabric there, the vibrant red a clash against his black armor.

Natalia took her seat next to you with a somber look in her eyes. She wouldn't look at you as she sat, holding her hands in her lap as she picked at her nails.

She knew how you felt about your knight, she was one of the few who did. You trusted her, and you also knew that had you not given her the go ahead, she wouldn't have accepted his request. Reaching over, you gently grabbed her hand and pulled it into your lap, making her look at you.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered and all you could do was give her a small smile.

"It's alright, don't you fret over it one bit," You replied, stroking her face with your knuckles and she nodded, squeezing your hand before you looked back up to see James turning to ride to the sidelines where he would wait for the event he was participating in to start.

The next knight, Sir Victor Creed, rode in and stopped at the same spot James had. He and his brother, Sir James Howlett, were well known through the kingdoms. Two brothers refusing to go anywhere without the other, never wavering in their duties and no matter the circumstances, always returning home in one piece. The Sabertooth and The Wolverine were names given to them by their brothers in arms.

"Your majesty," His voice was rough and clear, but gentle as he greeted you, bowing his head slightly, "Would you grant me your favor on this day?"

You glanced down to the embroidered token in your lap, twisting it between your fingertips before a hand entered your view. You looked over to see Natalia reaching for the token. You let her take it from you, replacing it with a spare. It was sage green, matching your dress, and had a simple pattern along the corners in gold. Bless her for coming prepared. You gave her a smile and a nod before standing, walking to the edge of the stands.

Victor gave his horse a nudge with his heels and met you at the edge with a soft smile, his gray eyes shining with pride in the sun. You placed your hand in his large outstretched one, allowing him to grasp your fingers and bow his head. He leaned forward, gently placing his lips over your knuckles, as he did any time he greeted you, though it was rare you two saw each other.

He reached for his sword, holding it by the blade so you could tie the token on the hilt.

"It's not every day anyone gets the chance to ask for your favor, your grace," He stated, watching your hands leave the fabric. "I had to seize the opportunity."

You granted him a smile, "Indeed you did," You held your hands in front of you, "I wish you luck, Sir Victor."

He smiled back, his eyes crinkling, "Thank you, your grace. I will not dishonor you."

You nodded, dismissing him. He sent a smirk your way before turning his horse and moving to wait beside your James. He was looking at you, having just watched your interaction with Victor, the scowl on his face prominent.

Your smile slipped, your lips resting in a straight line before you turned to walk back to your seat. Two could play in this game. If he didn't want anything to do with you - fine. You could keep to yourself. You'll go back to the way you were when he first arrived at your castle when your father was still king.

Silent, and uninterested.

Remaining detached grew difficult when James's event started.

He always participated in the hand to hand, one on one combat, every year. And every year, he won, easily.

This year was different though.

He was put against Sir John Walker, a selfish and arrogant knight. You knew James could beat him, he was more experienced, more aware of his surroundings and less focused on how he looked. He took his time analyzing his opponents instead of just rushing in blind.

But something was wrong.

James had been caught off guard more times than you'd ever seen happen before.

You couldn't really see him as he fought, the visor covering his face, masking any identifying features. But you could see in his movements that he was distracted. He was slow, sluggish in his blocks and counters. He'd taken a few hits to the side and the head and though their swords were often dulled for these events to prevent catastrophe, they still had the potential to do some significant damage.

Sitting on the edge of your seat, you clutched Natalia's hand in yours as you worried the skin of your lip between your teeth. The sound of the wooden shield in Sir John's hands cracking against your James's armor rang through the air and it took everything in you to not stand from your seat.

The wood splintered and scattered in multiple pieces along the dirt floor as James used his sword to keep himself from falling past his knees, his helmet rolling along the floor when it slipped from his head. Droplets of blood falling and sinking into the dirt. John raised what little shield remained strapped to his arm and looked out at the crowd - all of whom were shocked to see your usual champion on the floor.

James glanced up to you, expecting to see you distracted, not even watching his match. He hadn't looked your way the whole time, trying to not pay you any mind but failing as thoughts of you tying that damn token around Victor's sword flooded his mind. But now, as he finally locked eyes with you, and saw the fear pouring from your expression, his heart clenched.

Your eyes were wide, Natalia next to you holding you down - keeping you from making a scene, and even from where he was kneeled in the dirt, he could see your lips practically bleeding from you chewing them. When you realized he was looking at you, your eyebrows pinched together and your lips were forming silent words.

He couldn't tell if he couldn't hear you because of the roaring of the audience, the ringing in his ears, or if you were just silently mouthing his name, though he doubted it with the state you were in. Once he realized it was his name you were calling, that you were pleading, and he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks - he was back in the fight. He couldn't let you watch him lose. He wouldn't let that happen, not when it clearly upset you as much as it did. He quickly decided that he may not be able to love you in the way he wanted, but he'd always fight for you.

He glanced above him, seeing John assuming victory and took his chance. Swiping his arm with his shield attached out, he knocked John's legs out from under him, knocking him to the floor. James threw down his sword, and wrestled John in the dirt, knocking the side of his visorless helmet with the band of steel around his shield.

That hit gave him another moment to overpower John, straddling his chest and pressing his knees into his arms, pinning him to the dirt. Before John could try and get some leverage, James shifted his shield to rest against his opponent's neck.

"Yield," he gritted out between his teeth. John sneered, trying to wiggle free of James's body, refusing to give up.

James pulled his shield back, knocking his fist into the side of John's helmet, stunning him before he ripped the helmet off. He pushed the shield into John's throat again, knocking his head into the dirt.

"I said yield," James said again, watching as John tried to remain fierce, even as the fight left his eyes.

Soon, John's body relaxed, his blade falling from his hands as he looked away from James - yielding. With a heavy breath, his body relaxed and he stood, pulling John up with him, though he could tell his opponent didn't want the help.

When James looked back up to where you were seated, he was hoping to find you relieved. No more worry in your features and maybe even happy he won. All his eyes found was your empty seat.

"Leave us, please," You announced in a gentle manner once you pushed your way into the infirmary. The staff working around James didn't need to be told twice, or who you were referring to. They saw the way your eyes locked on to his slouched figure sitting on the cot and they rushed past you, out the door in a frenzy. The wrap on James's head was seeping through with red from the wound that Sir John gave him, but he made no move to fix it.

You stood still, watching, waiting for him to look up at you. When he wouldn't, and you'd been waiting too long to be appropriate, you released a heavy breath through your nose.

"You aren't even going to say hello?" You muttered, your confidence shrinking. You'd never had him blatantly ignore you like this, you weren't sure what to do, what to say. It left an odd feeling in your chest you weren't used to - one you didn't like.

He sighed, lifting his gaze to meet yours and you had to keep from stepping away from him. He didn't look like himself, not like how you'd come to know him. He looked like he did when he first was assigned to you. Stone-cold, emotionless, only ever thinking about the task at hand and not wanting to talk to you regardless of how often he was with you.

You didn't think you'd ever see him revert back to that, to see it again after so many years was startling.

"Hello, your grace," He gruffly said, his voice the only indication that he was still the James you knew. He was just hiding.

"What's going on with you?" You asked, still in the same spot. You had a feeling that if you were to try to get closer, he'd back away, and you didn't want to feel the hurt that would bring.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, your grace," He feigned innocence and you scoffed.

"Don't do that," You started, "Don't pretend as if you haven't been avoiding me for weeks. As if you haven't been lying to me."

His brows pinched at your suggestion and he shook his head, "I have not lied to you, your - "

"Stop." You cut him off, now refusing to stay still as you stepped towards him. "Stop saying 'your grace'. And don't tell me you weren't lying."

He took a moment to answer, but still, he denied it.

"I apologize, I'm not sure I'm following. I have not lied to you." He held his ground and you stopped in your tracks just two feet away.

"Oh you haven't?" You asked. "Then why did you almost lose?" His face paled at your question. "Yeah, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Your gra - "

"I said to stop it with that." You took another step forward as you let the anger slip away, sorrow taking its place in your words and your features. "What on earth has gotten into you, Jamie? You tell me you're not around because you're training for the tourney, and then you fight like that? Sloppy, unorganized. I didn't see any real effort from you until the end. So don't tell me you've been training the whole time you've been missing."

He looked back down to the ground, and you took the moment to take another step towards him, keeping your hands to yourself even if you wanted to reach out to touch him. To feel his gloved hands, the metal of his chain mail, or finally feel the skin of his face and the scruff of his growing beard as you hold him between your hands.

"Jamie," You said, getting him to look back up to you, "What's wrong?"

He took a breath, looking down before he stood, towering over you but seeming so small at the same time. You were ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, get him back to normal. Whatever it was, you would fix it.

But when his voice finally filled the room, your heart sunk to the floor.

"Your grace, I would like to request a transfer of post."

It was as if time stopped.

Surely, he didn't mean it. He was just jesting, he had to be. He'd been by your side for over five years now. He was the only one you trusted with your life the way you did. He was supposed to be your friend.

"I'm sorry?" You asked. Maybe you just heard him wrong. He'd tell you he was just exhausted. That he just needed rest and that he'd be back to normal in the morning. He had to.

"I would like you to reassign me. To the outer walls." Your lungs vacated the air that occupied them and you had to root yourself to your spot before you stumbled. You never thought he'd ever ask to leave your side.

"No." You said, fighting the growing lump in your throat and pain in your chest. "Not without reason."

He stared back, eyes wide as he tried to come up with something, anything, to get what he was asking. When he couldn't come up with an answer, you shoved down the hurt in your chest and stood tall, craning your neck to look up at him.

"You are the only one I trust the way I do. You've been by my side for over five years, Jamie," You tried not to cringe at the strain - the pain - in your voice, instead choosing to push forward. "I will not reassign you unless you have a proper reason to request it in the first place. I will not place my well-being in someone else's hands, someone who hasn't earned it the way you have."

"Please, your grace," he whispered, his own voice straining and barely audible. "Reassign me."

Your face contorted in frustration as you turned from him, pacing the room unable to stand so close while he shattered your heart.

"I will not reassign you," You watched him as you crossed the room. "I would never see you again, Jamie. You would go off to one of the watches on the border and I'd never see you again."

You stopped at one of the empty cots, dragging your fingers along the surface, the tremble in your fingers making you ball your fist at your side instead as you turned to face him.

"You don't wish to be by my side anymore," You muttered. "Is that it?"

"That's not. . ." He sighed as he looked down, unable to finish his words.

"Then what is it?" You asked, "Because, though it would pain me to not have you near, to watch you go off and possibly never return," You paused your willpower diminishing as you stared up at him, "I will grant it to you if you can just tell me why."

"I. . ." He started, his jaw falling open as his voice evaded him.

You scoffed, the pain in your heart becoming too much to bear. "You have until sunrise to bring me an answer. Otherwise," You closed the distance, getting nose to nose, "You will stay in your position for as long as I deem fit."

You turned on your heel, walking out the door, leaving him on his own.

He didn't chase you. He didn't even call your name.

Maybe it was time you let him go.

James stood outside your chamber doors, staring at the swirling grain in the wood, trying to gather the courage to knock.

He'd spent supper in the dining halls watching you on your throne with your ladies surrounding you - comforting you. He could tell by the nasty looks Lady Natalia was sending his way that she knew what had happened.

And he couldn't blame her.

He knew his request would pain you, that it would hurt. But he'd decided that he needed to be stationed away from you. He didn't know if he could handle seeing you with your mystery courter, and he would rather save himself the pain of finding out.

He could hardly watch your interaction with Victor, the bastard having won all of his events and, since he had your favor, was also seated next to you at supper. He had to watch as Victor smiled at you, flirted with you. He knew Victor would never appreciate it like he should, never truly understand what an honor it is to be the center of your attention.

James knew you wouldn't take his request well, you were friends, but he never should've allowed your relationship to become even that. It was improper. Negligent.

So, here he stood, struggling to gain the strength to hit his fist against the wood.

The rest of the castle was almost silent, other than the occasional stirring of the overnight servants cleaning up after the festivities from earlier. He glanced at the windowsill, the night air bringing a chill as he watched the stars.

He was running out of time. If he didn't come up with a reason for you to send him away soon, he'd be stuck watching you wed someone else. Someone not himself.

It wasn't like you could marry him anyways. He was just a knight. You were a queen. It would be unbecoming for you to not wed a noble, or someone of royal descent.

He couldn't lie to you though - you were always too good at reading through his fibs, he was an open book to you. Any time he tried to give you even the slightest lie, you'd catch on and call him out on it - which made it hard to give you surprises.

Maybe if he told you the truth, you'd be empathetic enough to let him go.

It was his only hope, and he needed to do it before he lost his prowess.

James's knock against the wood and the clang of his armor echoed off the stone walls through the corridor and his heart leapt into his throat as he waited for your response.

It wasn't long before the door opened to reveal Lady Natalia, scowling at him like she had been all night.

"Oh," She said with pursed lips, "It's you."

"Let him in, Natalia," Your strained voice came from beyond the threshold and James watched as your lady's shoulders sagged. "And head to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

Natalia turned and curtsied, "Yes, my lady." She ducked around James, but not before eying him down with a fierce look, and took her leave down the hall. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under by now, just by her eyes alone.

"Are you going to just stand there all night," you called, "Or are you going to come give me your reason?"

He swallowed his nerves, stepping past the door and closing it behind him.

Your chambers were dimly lit with candles placed on your hearth and windowsills and tables. Perched on the lounge by the large window, you were facing the stars, just as he had been a moment ago.

"Your grace," He greeted, stiff in his movements to walk towards you, trying not to bump into anything, or break something. He'd never been in here, and he didn't want to leave you hurt and with a broken piece of possible sentiment.

"Do you have your reason?" You asked, the shortness in your tone sending a wave of sorrow through James's chest. He knew he didn't deserve your friendliness anymore. Your warm and welcoming voice. He deserved the coldness you were greeting him with, he knew that.

"I do," He quietly said, watching as you turned your head to slightly face him. And though the circumstances were anything but pleasurable, he was still in awe of the beauty you held, the side profile of your features causing him to pause.

Could he really go another day without seeing you again?

"Well?" You asked, shooting your eyes to his, "What is it?"

He took a moment to take you in, the way you were poised on the lounge, facing him only the slightest. Your feet were tucked under you, one of your arms thrown over the back of the lounge and resting on the windowsill. You'd rid yourself of your dress from earlier, the bodice and large skirt surely thrown in some grand closet of yours. You were in a simple nightgown now, the white of the thin fabric catching the light from the candles.

A flush crept up his neck and across his cheeks as he realized this was the first time he'd seen you like this. He expected you to somewhat have a more presentable attire on and he averted his eyes from you, clearing his throat.

"Forgive me, your grace," He paused, almost on instinct, expecting you to argue against the title he greeted you with, but nothing came. "I was not expecting you to be so. . . underdressed."

"Have you never seen a woman in a nightgown?" There was no emotion in your voice, no sarcasm, no teasing. The guilt built in his chest as he tipped his head.

"I have, your grace," He answered, staring at the stone in the wall.

"Then stop being a prude and look at me when you're speaking to me." He'd never had such authority dripping from your voice pointed at him. It was odd, the feeling it left in his chest as he obliged, turning his gaze back to you.

You'd turned to face him fully now, one of your legs still tucked under you and the other stretched out to the floor. Your arms both thrown over the back of the lounge, the scowl still present on your face, though it was cast in shadow.

"I wish for you to reassign me," He started, trying to keep his words as steady as he could - steadier than he felt. "Because I cannot watch you court someone who does not deserve you, your grace."

Silence filled the room as he waited for your response. When his hand started shaking, he rested it on the hilt of his sword, wrapping his fingers around the metal.

"What do you mean?" You asked, all hostility gone from your words, catching him by surprise. "Watch me court someone? Who am I courting?"

Who? Why would you ask such a question? Surely, you knew. You'd told him yourself that someone already held your heart in their hands.

"Back at the gala," he recounted, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay, "You mentioned someone already having your heart. I cannot stay by your side and watch you court them, should you decide to."

You were still for a moment, eyeing him, as he tried not to rock on his feet, waiting for you to say something.

Soon, you let out a sad laugh, reaching for your cup of wine from the table and taking a sip. You stood, walking toward him with the cup in your hand. It was only when you were close enough for him to smell the wine on your breath did he notice the red of your eyes - the sadness that filled them.

"Tell me, James, what is the reason you want to leave me?" You whispered, setting the cup down on the hearth without so much as shifting your gaze.

He swallowed, trying to ignore the way he wanted to get lost in your eyes, no matter how sad they were, no matter how much guilt built in his chest like water behind a dam, threatening to crack and shatter the stone. How he wanted to reach out and hold you and apologize for making you upset.

"Because, your grace" He muttered, matching the softness of your own tone, "The feelings I bear for you are no longer befitting of my station." He stated, watching your features soften and your eyes start glistening. "From the bottom of my heart, I adore you."

A sigh left your lips, the smell of wine and fruits flooding James's senses being the only warning of you closing the distance between the two of you.

His eyes widened at the feeling of your bitten lips on his and your hands pulling him down by the breastplate of his armor. It was over before he had a chance to react and he stared down at you, the pieces slowly starting to click together.

"You're such a fool," You whispered, letting go of his armor and walking back to your lounge.

He followed you, standing near your now seated figure. "Your grace?"

"Stop calling me that," You looked up to him, the light from the moon shining off the tears that now streaked down your cheeks. "You never let me tell you the rest," you muttered, "You've been hiding from me, avoiding me for weeks." You gave him a sad smile when the realization dawned on him. "It's you."

A deep breath escaped his lungs in a huff, as he stared at you. Surely he misheard you, he thought, you couldn't have said that. But the next words from you proved him wrong.

"I was talking about you."

At your admission, his resolve crumbled and he fell to his knees before you and closed his eyes, hanging his head. He had asked to leave. You were going to let him. He was going to leave you here when you were in love with him as he was you. He never would've seen you again.

Your voice calling out for him made him lift his head and open his eyes and only then did he realize how close he was to you. You were seated on the edge of the lounge cushion as you watched him, the tiniest bit of hope flickering in your eyes. His breath stuttered as he tried to gain his voice.

"I - " He started, the dam in his chest cracking, starting to break. He reached for your hands, slowly in case you pulled away, grasping them in his own when you didn't reel back from him. He leaned forward, resting his head in your lap, letting the smell of you calm him. "I'm so sorry, your grace."

You gave his hands a squeeze and leaned forward, your lips resting on his temple. "As am I."

You remained like that for a moment, eventually pulling your hands from his to wrap around his head, his hands moving to hold your legs, the tremble evident in his hold. When you sat up, pulling back, he lifted his head from your legs, looking up at you. Your eyes were full of hope as you giggled and smiled, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

"We're both fools aren't we?" You asked, and he couldn't stop the lighthearted feeling that filled his chest, making him laugh with you.

"I suppose we are." He gripped your hips through your nightgown, ignoring the heat that rose to his cheeks when he finally took notice of your position. And just how thin your gown was.

He was so close to touching you, to actually touching you. To feel your skin against his. Your hands on his face, tracing the wound on his forehead didn't count for him. He wanted to feel you between his hands.

"Can we take off this bulky stuff?" You whispered, pulling on the breastplate of his armor. He nodded, moving to unbuckle the straps when your hands met his. "I'll do it." You muttered, and he lowered his hands.

Your fingers brushed against him as you undid the buckles and he caught the pieces before they landed on your feet. You attempted to lift the chain mail over his head, but it was heavier than you expected and he took over. After peeling away the layers of leather, he was left in just his undergarments and a flush on his cheeks.

Ever since you'd pulled his gloves off, he'd kept his hands to himself, nervous in a way he'd never experienced before. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, one of your hands reaching back to thread through his hair and he sighed at the contact.

When he still hadn't reached for you, you reached down, grabbing one of his hands and putting your cheek in it. His breath hitched at the feeling of your soft skin against his, the way you delicately traced his knuckles as he mapped your face with the tips of his fingers, trying to record all of it to memory.

He'd almost lost this chance with you. Had he come up with a believable excuse for leaving, he never would've gotten to feel you like this. To be this close enough to pick up on the floral smell in your hair. To feel your hand pulling him closer, gripping the hair at the base of his skull. To taste the wine on your tongue when your lips met his.

He craned his neck up to reach you, sighing into your mouth and gripping the side of your face. Moving his hand to wrap around your lower back, he pulled you to the edge of the lounge cushion, groaning when your legs wrapped around his waist.

He pulled away when he absolutely couldn't breathe anymore, resting his forehead against yours, "I'm so sorry," He muttered again, opening his eyes to find yours already on him. He knew he'd already apologized, but he needed to say it again.

"It's alright," you whispered, "I wasn't really going to let you go." His lips broke out in a smile as a wet laugh erupted from his chest.

Your hands moved to his face, wiping away the wetness there before you pulled him back in. There was more of a desperation in his movements now - needing to be closer to you, to feel every inch of you - you'd given him a taste and now he needed more.

"Have you ever," you muttered in between kisses, "lay in a queen's bed?"

"Never," his words swallowed by your lips.

You smirked against his lips, tightening your legs around his waist. "Let us go then."

He wrapped his hands under your thighs, slowly standing and taking you with him. He stumbled a bit, trying to find your bed with you occupying his line of sight, but eventually his knees knocked the side of it, the soft covers tickling his skin as he leaned over, resting you on top.

His hands started to wander over your gown and without breaking away from him, your hands grabbed his and placed them under the fabric, finally getting him to touch your skin, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. His hands mapped your body, every dip and curve, branding the feeling of your soft skin into memory.

Your hands reached under his shirt, your fingers gripping bits of his muscle as they traveled up, pushing the fabric out of your way. You pushed him back, making him straighten his back and remove his shirt.

Your hands stilled over his skin and when he looked down to you, your eyes were locked on to his ribs. Your fingers gently traced the outline of the bruising there, one of the many consequences of his sloppiness in his battle with John. He sucked in cool air when your lips grazed his skin, pressing kisses to the bruising before looking back up to meet his gaze.

You gave his waist a small push, and he backed up to let you stand, too caught in your tenderness to refuse you. Allowing you to push him and maneuver him how you wanted him, the backs of his legs hit the bed and he sat on the plush surface.

"Get up there," You smiled at him and he nodded, quickly shifting up to the back of your bed.

You joined him, straddling his hips, but refusing him your lips. He went to ask - to beg really - to let him taste your tongue again but the words died on his tongue as your arms wrapped around you, grabbing the sides of your gown. The air was sucked out of his lungs as you pulled the fabric up and over your head, dropping it off the side of the bed.

It was like his brain stopped working, seeing you like this, completely bare and hovered over him. The way the candlelight caught the edges of your skin, lighting you in a soft silhouette, but still giving enough light to where he could see you. The gaze you held on him, it held him there like an obedient hound but he didn't mind at all. He liked being under your control.

He was knocked from his stupor when you placed your hands on his chest, rolling your hips into his, your lips parting to allow a sinful whine to fill his ears.

He reached forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him, pressing your hips roughly into his as he sat up, capturing your lips with his own. Your arms snaked around his neck as his hand shifted between the two of you, his thumb brushing small circles over your clit, making you gasp against his mouth.

He snuck his hand lower, between your legs, his fingertips tracing along the edges of your folds, gathering the slick there.

"Is this all for me?" He muttered, letting you suck his tongue into your mouth as you nodded. You pushed your hips into his hand and he groaned, dragging his fingers through your folds, prodding at your entrance.

He sunk two digits in, cooing at the whine that left your lips. His other hand reached up to wrap around the back of your neck and pulled you off his mouth so he could see you. The way you fought to keep your eyes open, your jaw slack as you grinded on his fingers.

He curled his fingers, finding that soft spot that had you keening in his lap and he grinned, holding you as still as he could while his fingers pumped in and out of you. He'd never seen you so vulnerable and he knew he wasn't going to be able to get enough of it.

He grinned against your cheek as you moved to bite at his neck, finally moving out of his direct line of sight, and what he saw made his cock twitch.

Set up in front of your bed, was your dressing table, the mirror open. He could see the lines of your back as you circled your hips against his hand, the bend in your legs and the curve of your ass - it gave him an idea.

He pulled you from his neck and pulled his fingers from your cunt, your whine at the loss, making him chuckle. He kissed your lips again before telling you, "Turn around for me?" The look that passed through your eyes told him you knew what he was suggesting - and you wanted it.

You pulled him in for one more press against your lips, your tongues gliding against each other for just a moment before you pulled away. Throwing your leg over his knees, you turned around, watching him behind you through the mirror as he shifted to follow you. The bed dipped under his weight as shifted, ridding himself of his trousers before he moved to his knees, coming up behind you, eyes locked on yours through the reflection.

His hand wrapped around your front, cupping your breast, pinching at your nipple as his lips met your neck. He sucked on the soft skin there, taking a moment to bask in the sound that left your lips before pushing you down into the blankets, his hand remaining between your shoulder blades as he looked down to your core. It was glistening and he couldn't help but drag his fingers through it again.

Your body flinched as you moaned at the little contact he was giving you. "Please, Jamie."

Your begging sent chills down his spine. You never begged. Not for anything.

To be granted the space to hear you do that, made him feel stronger than any suit of armor or handcrafted blade ever could.

Pulling you by your hips back to his, he sighed when his cock slid against your folds through your slick, watching you arch your back. He repeated the movement just two more times before the head of his member caught your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," his breath shuddered as he watched your cunt suck him into your heat. He wanted to watch as he sunk all the way in, but the deliciously loud moan you let out had him raising his gaze to see your reflection.

Your back arched, your face in the blankets as you reached out for purchase on one of them, gripping it with white knuckles.

The sight alone could bring him over the edge, but then that would leave you and he couldn't have that.

Using his knees, he moved your legs further apart so he could lean over you, the new angle pulling another keen from your chest. Resting his weight on his right arm, he reached around to grab your breast, rolling the sensitive bud of your nipple between his fingers.

When he started rocking his hips into yours, he didn't expect you to push them back against him, meeting his thrusts and pulling sounds out of his throat to match yours. Releasing your breast, he moved to slide his hand up your arm, grabbing your wrist and leaning down to suck on the skin of your shoulder.

When you started begging again, chanting please, please, don't stop, please over and over again into the blankets, he knew you were close and allowed himself to drown in your pleas just once more before giving you what you wanted.

His hand left your hip, diving down to circle your clit as his other reached for your chin, tipping your head up so he could see your face in the reflection.

"Let me see your eyes," He muttered into your neck, watching your eyes flutter open, "there we go."

Your eyes widened when his fingers quickened their circles over your clit. And he knew he was hitting the right spot when your jaw slackened and your arms tensed.

"C'mon, your grace," His lips brushed against your ear, "I wanna see you when you cum."

That was all it took for your body to seize up, a shout leaving your lips as your cunt gripped him and he had to catch himself so he didn't crush you. His fingers kept circling your clit and he didn't stop his pounding into you until you were crying out again, a second orgasm quickly taking over your body.

"There you go," he grunted, thrusting just a few more times before he quickly pulled himself from you, your whine making him wish he could stay inside you. He gripped his cock, giving it a few tugs before he released himself on your back, trying to quiet his moan as much as he could. He didn't know if you wanted anyone in the castle knowing and he wasn't about to make that decision for you.

Your body was slack against the bed, and when he looked up to your reflection, he found your eyes already on him - like they always were. A heat took his cheeks but he refused to look away from you, especially when you gave him that lazy smile and giggle. His lips split into a grin as he joined your soft laughter, moving out from behind you and helping you unbend your legs, laying on your stomach.

You pointed him to the wash bin where there was a damp cloth from your bath earlier. And after getting you cleaned up and resituated in your bed, he sat on the edge, wishing he could stay.

But he didn't want to start any gossip around the castle.

You tugged on his arm, "What's wrong?"

"I should go," he muttered, reaching for your face, "Don't want the castle finding out do you?"

Your brows pinched as you sat up and wrapped your hands around his head, "James, you better get in this damn bed."

His eyes widened, "Are you sure? I'm supposed to be guarding you."

"And what better place to do that than by my side."

He sighed and nodded, crawling in next to you, sighing at the softness of your bed. He'd been too preoccupied moments ago to notice how nice it was, but compared to his bed in the barracks, this was heaven on earth.

"I have something for you," You muttered before you reached over to the side table, turning back around with a little folded up cloth. You placed it in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. "This was supposed to be my token for you," You started, pulling your hands to rest in your lap, "before you asked Natalia for hers."

The guilt started to grow in his chest again as he unfolded the fabric, revealing embroidery of some very familiar flowers. Your initials were in the corner, the way they were stitched telling him you made it by hand.

"Your grace," He muttered, "I don't deserve this."

"I get to decide that," You whispered back, leaning over him, lightly pressing your lips to his. "You carry that with you, so you don't forget."

"Forget what?"

"That I adore you as well."

As always, thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very much appreciated.

If you liked the story, please consider checking out my Ko-Fi

724 notes · View notes

mattsturniolosmuse · 1 month

Text

Talk To Me

Johnny Cade x Fem! Reader

Summary: You've been dating Johnny for 3 months. You've never talked in front of the gang; you are selectively mute. You hate talking, you're scared people will judge you based off of what you say. One day, you're sticking up for yourself and Johnny, and hearing your voice turns him on. Turns out you are a lot louder than you give up to be.

Warnings: Smut, p in v, oral (fem receiving), sub! reader, dom! johnny, unprotected sex, dirty talk, use of pet names

"What do you guys think?" Darry asks the gang, following his question of 'what icecream should we get for Ponyboy's birthday?'

Most of the gang replied with chocolate. When it came to you, you shrugged.

"That's alright, angel, just point to the colour." Johnny says, grabbing some crayons off of the kitchen counter. You point at the pink one.

"Strawberry?" He asks. You nod. The votes came out as 5 for chocolate and 2 for strawberry.

"I'm going to take a smoke." Johnny says, stepping outside. You follow him, grabbing the cigarette out of his hand that he offered you. He lights it.

"How you been doin?" Johnny asks you. You nod in response.

"Good? That's good." Johnny says, pausing.

"You can talk to me. I won't judge you, I promise." He says, looking at you wearily. You shake your head.

"No? That's ok." He says, dissapointed.

"I'll bet your voice is really pretty." He says, stomping out his cigarette.

You shake your head again. It ain't.

"Want to go to Dairy Queen?" Johnny asks you. You get up, signalling that you would like him to. He locks his fingers with yours. He admires your face. He's always loved it.

Your e/c eyes that were so full of fear, but lit up whenever someone talked about something you enjoyed. Your cheeks were always rosy, especially when it was cold. Your lips were often coated in your favourite lip gloss; an orange flavour. He found himself thinking about your lips. About how he had never heard a word fall out of them.

"You're so pretty, angel." Johnny says to you, squeezing your hand. You blush.

The roar of an engine cracks Johnny out of his fantasizing about you. He looks behind him, and turning the corner, is a blue mustang. His heart starts hammering in his chest. He grips your hand tighter.

"So, uh- how was your day?" He asks, realizing you haven't noticed the mustang, and not wanting to scare you.

You shrug. The mustang speeds up.

"Sorry, angel, but we gotta run." Johnny says, dragging you with him. You guys try to outrun the vehicle, but, it being a vehicle, it was impossible. You trip on a rock and fall.

"Angel. Fuck. I'm sorry." Johnny says as one of the soc's grab his arm, the other one grabbing yours.

"Hey, pretty girl. I've seen you around school. You know who I am?" The soc asks you, scraping hair out of your face with his blade. Tears are silently pouring down your face as you shake your head.

"Leave her alone, man, please." Johnny says, struggling to get the words out with a blade to his own throat.

"Come on, pretty girl. Talk. I know you can." The soc says into your ear, squeezing your thigh gently.

No. No, no no. You think to yourself.

"Fine. If you won't talk, we'll take it out on your boyfriend here." The soc says, and Johnny got a punch to the stomach. More tears splash onto your face.

"NO! STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" You scream. The soc is so surprised, he let's go of your arm.

"Angel..." Johnny says, looking up at you in shock.

"Come on guys, let's get out of here." The soc says, and him and his buddies pile back into the car and drive away.

You look back to Johnny. He's on the floor, propped up on his elbows.

You grab his hand and stand him up. "Let's go back." You say.

Johnny is suddenly aware of the tent in his pants. He'd never here you speak a word out of those pretty lips, and it made him crazy.

"Yeah. Ok." Johnny says, limping beside you, still in shock.

>>>><<<<

"What happened?"

"Are you OK, Johnnycakes?"

"Why is he limping, Y/N?"

These were some of the questions that were fired at you when you got back to the Curtis house. You shrug. Johnny heads upstairs, and you sit on the couch.

You are munching (sorry) on popcorn, when Johnny calls to you.

"Hey, angel, can you come here a sec?" Johnny asks you. You get up, placing the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table.

You enter the guest room, closing the door behind you, and Johnny is sitting on the bed, shirtless. A bruise had begun on his side.

You sit beside him and place your hand on the bruise, your other hand cupping his cheek.

"I'm glad you talked." Johnny whispers, his eyes flicking towards your lips then back up to your eyes. You smile, kissing him gently. The whole motion sent fireworks going off inside your stomach. His lips were soft; and they tasted like cigarettes and vanilla.

Johnny gently places you down on the bed, crawling over you, your lips not leaving eachothers.

Johnny tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and you feel a wet spot growing in your panties as Johnny's knee rubs against your crotch. You whimper quietly as you feel Johnny's tongue brush your lower lip.

You open your mouth, and Johnny's tongue clashes against yours. Johnny moans at the contact, and he slides his hands down your waist and into your shirt.

He begins to squeeze your chest gently, fondling the nipples in between his fingers.

"J-johnny..." You moan. You saying Johnny's name just turned him on more.

"I need you, angel." Johnny says, pulling away from you, his lust clouded eyes piercing into yours. You nod, pulling his black shirt over his head. He kisses you again, and you mess up his hair with your hand. Your other hand trails his stomach, over his slight abs and chest.

Johnny removes your jean jacket and the top underneath, and you unclasp your bra. Johnny groans and stares at you. You blush, averting his eyes, but he grabs your chin and makes you look at him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, baby." Johnny says, attaching his lips to your left breast while kneading the other. You moan loudly.

He leaves gentle kisses all the way down to your black jeans. He looks up at you for permission, and you nod.

He unbuttons them, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. Johnny bites his lip at the sight of your pussy, his cock throbbing. Your pussy was dripping into the mattress, and he tried so hard to stop himself from rutting into the mattress. He wanted to save himself for you.

He places a gentle kiss to your clit, and your let out a small moan, tangling your hands in Johnny's hair as he flattens his tongue against your pussy.

"Johnny!" You moan out, causing him to go faster. He flicks his tongue in and out of your hole, licking up all of your slick.

"You taste so good, baby." Johnny moans against your clit. It sends vibrations through you, and you throw your head back. The knot in your stomach tightens.

"Johnny, close." You moan, blushing. Johnny pushes his face further into you as you release. His face is dripping with what was a mixture of your slick, cum and his saliva. The sight made you wet all over again.

Johnny wipes his face off with a blanket, and cowers over you again, kissing you gently. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

"Ready? If you want me to stop, just squeeze my hand, and I'll pull out." Johnny says, lacing his fingers with yours. You nod.

He pushes his tip in, and you throw your head back. You squeeze your eyes shut from pain and pleasure. Johnny bottoms out, and begins to thrust in and out of you slowly. You tried to keep your moans in, but it was impossible.

Johnny buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking hickeys into the skin.

"J-johnny..." You moan, clenching around him. He picks up his pace, his hips pistoning into you at an alarming rate. The only sounds that can be heard are skin clapping and moans that fell from Johnny's mouth and occasionally yours.

"Baby, you feel so good. So tight." Johnny says, kissing you on the lips. His tongue finds yours immediately and you bite it. Johnny groans.

"Close." You moan, clenching down on him.

"Yeah. Come on. Come on my dick, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." Johnny says, bringing you closer to release. You never thought you'd ever hear those words come out of him.

You cum around him, and he thrusts a few more times before pulling out and releasing on your stomach.

"God. I love you, angel." Johnny says, trying to catch his breath.

"Me too." You whisper. You hear a knock on the door, and Johnny scrambles to grab a blanket to cover you.

"Y-yes?" Johnny calls. The door opens and Dally steps into the room.

"You know, if y'all are gonna fuck, find a place that maybe doesn't have 6 other people in it." He says with a smirk. You blush, hiding in Johnny's neck.

This was so much fun to write! Thank you to the anon who requested it. Keep the requests coming!

#johnny cade #the outsiders #x reader #dallas winston #the gang #se hinton #outsiders

72 notes · View notes

skyebounded · 2 years

Text

Be That As It May

.main masterlist.

premise: Forced into an arrangement that you don’t want, your beloved uncle might have a solution.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen Reader (uncle + niece)

Warnings: pure filth, p in v, oral (f-receiving), arranged marriage, fingering, I am sure there is so much more here, but I don’t know. I also included some Valyrian Language in this, and the translation is at the bottom of the page.

WC: 7.4K

A/N: This was so much fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy this! also thank you for being patient with me.

You had taken after your sister in all manors, and favoured her strong will and attitude, something your father wasn’t sure that he liked, but there was nothing he could do nor say that would change it, so he ignored it, much the same as he did with Rhaenyra, pretending that it did not bother him or affect him in any way. You were quite sure, however, that it was not only your sister but more of the combination of the two of you that was sending him hurling toward an early grave.

The King threw whatever he could at the pair of you, to sculpt you into well-mannered women, but you had your mind made up, and the likes of his efforts were wasted. You would never be forced to do what you did not want to do, or so you thought. As soon as you had seen Rhaenyra bend to his will, taking a husband all for the good of the Kingdom, you wondered if you would end in the same fate.

Summoned to the council hall, you had every confidence that no matter what was said, what had been asked of you, you would be able to defy it in one way or another. The doors opened as you strolled inside, surprised to see the King pacing slowly back and forth at the head of the table, each one of his advisors sitting rigid in their seats, eyes darting back and forth between you and the King. The Queen sat plastered in a chair next to the King’s, hands resting plainly in her lap, and your very own sister, Rhaenyra, sat in a chair on the side of the table.

There was an air of anticipation lingering in the room, one so heavy, so thick that you felt like you needed to gasp for air if someone didn’t speak. What surprised you the most was the tall, lean figure leaning against a black column in the corner of the room, Daemon. The roguish prince.

Unwillingly, and unknowingly you had just walked into your downfall, completely unprepared. Clasping your hands firmly behind your back, your eyes darting to each member in the room, lingering on your uncle in the corner. You can’t help but wonder what he has to do with whatever was coming your way. You knew that whatever it was, was not going to be favourable in the slightest.

“Father, you called?” your words were drawn out leisurely, as your gaze finally lands on him.

His head whips to you, a stern gaze plastered to his features, his lips down-turned, eyes tired and strained. In the days that had preceded Rhaenrya engagement, his demeanor had worsened. The once panic-ridden state had only increased, the fear of God knows what plagued him day in and day out. He had become harsh, and uncharacteristically different from the man you once knew.

“Ah, y/n…good” he sighs heavily.

He comes to a halt, throwing his hands out over the back of the chair, a means to sturdy himself you surmise. His eyes never meet yours, and the tugging sensation in your stomach tells you that he refuses to meet your gaze due to what he had to say. With your eyes boring into him, he shifts slightly, looking to the few council members that surrounded him for a vote of confidence, one he did not receive in the slightest.

“I will say this plainly…you are to be married,” he says with a forced smile. One that told you that he knew of your displeasure. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, eyes flicking to each member at the table, lingering on your sisters, whose eyes showed the slightest hint of sympathy, then to the Queen’s who showed only disinterest in the situation, and lastly, to Daemon’s, whose had the slightest bit of devilry behind them, and yet there was a sense of pity and longing.

“Pardon?” you chuckle awkwardly, a confused smile resting on your lips. Frozen to the spot as you felt everyone's beady eyes on you.

“Ser Tyland Lannister, he made a proposition for your hand, and it was one that was rather too good to pass on, needless to say, the match has already been made, and you’d do well to head it.” Every word was said with a hint of warning as if he knew just how inclined you were to fight him on the matter. The bile that was forcing its way up your throat was instantly swallowed, your hands trembling in a clenched mess behind your back. You had begun to sink your nails into your palm, something you had done as a child to keep yourself in check, it had only ever sufficed for so long.

“When was this decided?” you ask, doing your best to keep your voice level and calm.

Soft murmurs could be heard throughout the room, nothing you could quite grasp, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. The King looks around, before flicking his hand, dismissing everyone. The room fell silent as everyone hurried out, leaving you alone with your father, minus the lingering presence of your uncle, who had sunk further into the corner of the room, determined not to be seen. Why? you hadn’t the slightest of clues, but as far as you were concerned, he had no position in the topic.

“It was decided today, just now.” he pauses, watching you carefully, “You are to be married within the week,” he adds casually, pulling the chair out from underneath the table to take a seat. With a curl of his finger, one of the lingering servants rushes to his side, filling his cup with wine.

“No,” you huff, your brow tweaked upwards in defiance.

His eyes clenched shut and lips down-turned in what would now become a permanent scowl.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, this time with more conviction, “I refuse, you cannot make me.”

Despite knowing that he could in fact force you to do his will, it wasn’t going to stop you from speaking your mind. His hand comes down hard against the table, the rattle of it echoing throughout the empty room.

“You forget your place, y/n! You will do as I say, and you will not defy me on this!”

Sinking your nails deeper into your skin, you could feel the smallest bit of moisture flooding your nail beds, no doubt blood from the crescent marks you had made in your displeasure. When the news of Rhaenyra’s betrothal consumed every corner of Westeros, you presumed that the compass of betrothal would not reach you. In your naive mind, you were free to do as you pleased, with no limits or bounds, you would have the freedom to pursue those that you desired, but you could not have been any more wrong in your assumption.

“I do not wish for this, you cannot make me, Father!” you plead, your lip beginning to quiver ever so slightly, as you release your grip on your hands. The suddenness of him standing had you taking a small step back. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edges of the table. He had always found you to be the more difficult of the pair of you. Rhaenyra had given him his fair share of trouble throughout her life, but you had been the topper to it all. Constantly trying his patience to the best of your ability, and this was no different.

“I can do as I damn well please, Y/n, you forget I own you!” he bellowed, “You are a princess, you have your duties same as I, same as Rhaenyra, you are not untouched by your name, and I fear you forget that. You have a duty to fulfill and it may not be as grave as your sisters but you do have one nonetheless.” his eyes narrow coldly on you, begging you to say something more. Tears brim your eyes, as you look at the man you have never seen so cold before.

“Mother would never have gone along with this, but it seems you forget her far too easily.” you spit, your words laced with venom to them. The expression on his face falls a certain sadness that is quick to be replaced with one of hatred. He would not be moved on the topic, that much was clear to you.

“Go from my sight! Now!” he demands, moving from behind the table into a clearer view. Turning on your heel, you stride out of the room, wiping your blood-stained palm into the fabric of your cream coloured dress. Never had you been so infuriated, made to feel so diminished. You had no say in your fate, no say in the fact that you were now to become nothing less than a breeding mule, to be pumped full of Lannister children. Disgusted, and irate. All be damned if you were going to just roll over on your back as such, you would sooner throw yourself from the highest tower than be made into his wife.

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

The windows had been thrown open, and the cool night breeze flooded your room as you paced it. Back and forth, and over again, clutching your hand as you run your thumb over the open wounds. The thin sleeping gown that hung loosely on your frame, fell from your shoulders, clinging onto the sides of your arms, while silver locks cascaded down your back, swaying with each heated step. Muddled, filled with thoughts and schemes, and silly notions of how you could possibly evade your current fate, your mind was racing. Adamant to devise a plan on how you could wrench yourself free from the grip that was your uncomical duty.

Nothing was coming to you, other than fleeing from the castle, never to return. Living in squalor, alone and lost, all because you couldn’t stand to marry, but at least you would be free. Unsure if it was worth all the trouble, it was still a viable option in the end. Then there was the absurd idea that you could throw yourself from your window, the one that you kept returning to far more than you cared to admit.

Making your way over to the open seals, you step onto the ledge, looking down at the ground that seemed so far away, and yet not close enough.

“Is that really your only viable option?”

You had been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed that you were not alone in your chambers. The voice was easily recognizable, you had heard it nearly all your life. The familiar rasp was that of Daemon’s. Starting out at the kingdom before you, tempted to take the tiniest of steps forward, you speak.

“Tell me, uncle, do you have a better idea?”

His silence was deafening, and you begin to wonder if it was a gesture in itself, urging you to do it.

“Perhaps, but don’t let me stop you...” he says, his voice holding the slightest bit of amusement to it. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself away from the window, your feet meeting the hard ground once more, as you turn to face him. Leaning against one of the posters on your bed, was Daemon. A simple grey tunic with red detailing, one that you thought suited his complexion well, hanging perfectly on his lean frame. It came as no surprise that he had found his way into your room, seeing as how it had happened before on many occasions. Utilizing the secret passages that opened into your room day in and day out.

To a normal eye, the relationship you had with your dear uncle would be one of scandal, improper in its highest degree, despite nothing ever truly happening between the pair of you. It, however, did not stop the longing gazes, the lewd thoughts, and the stolen touches here and there from both of you. It was something that you are quite certain if brought to the right attention, (would not be taken well.) but neither of you genuinely cared.

You had always been drawn to him in a way you knew was wrong, and though he would never admit it to you, he felt the same. The same immoral desire for you that you had for him. A part of you would argue that you felt a deep love for him, one that wasn’t common in your situation, but it was there nonetheless, festering inside you for as long as you could remember.

He watches with narrowed eyes, as you move from your spot nearest the widow, and over to him, bringing yourself to a stop mere feet in front of him. Looking up through your lashes at him.

“What would you have me do, Daemon?” you pause, a small shrug of your shoulders, “It seems to me that I have very few viable options as of now, so if you have a better one I am all ears, my dearest Uncle.”

His head cocks slightly, as a crooked grin forms on his lips.

“I'm sure there are plenty of other things you could do rather than take your own life..” he says, pushing himself off of the post as he makes his way languidly over to you.

“Well give me one, what can I do?”

Stopping in front of you, his eyes gazing down at you.

“Discredit your name,” he says, grabbing a stray strand of your hair to wrap around his finger. He acted like it was the simplest thing a girl of your standing could do. Tarnish your name, and all would be forgotten, except it wouldn’t. Not only would that perhaps free you from your engagement, but it would in fact bring shame greatly upon your name. You huffed a laugh, as you looked up at him.

“Ha, not like they would be so inclined to believe me now, would they? Especially not since I have so blatantly expressed my vexation in the matter.” You grumble, rolling your eyes slowly as a way to show your point.

“It does not matter what they believe, as long as the word is spread and enough people speak it.” He says softly, letting the strand fall to rest on your chest, his eyes following it as it falls between your breasts.

“I cannot do that, let alone find someone who would, you would have a better chance doing it yourself,” you say exaggeratedly, taking a deep breath, the smallest bit of you hoping that by some grace he would. That he would surrender his pride and morale to save you.

“I could do it…but I want you in return,” his eyes slowly meet yours, suggestion laced just behind the violet of them.

“Let me take you to Dragonstone, I could take you as my wife.”

He was being serious, that much you could gather, he would gladly do it, but at what cost, you wondered. You had never known your uncle to do anything that wasn’t in his best interest, so for you to assume that he would do this merely for you was a juvenile thought among all.

“I will take you as you are, free and unbroken. You’d want for nothing. Tyland will do nothing more than bore you my dear, breed you, and treat you as a trophy for his shelf…” he says, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. ”You were not made to sit atop a shelf, you were made to sit on a throne.” His breath was warm against your ear, as it moved down the side of your neck, his lips only hovering over it, the closeness of him sending chills throughout you.

You hated the way that you wanted him to do it, to discredit you and claim you for his own, or how for as long as you could remember, you desired him, and here he was offering that to you on a silver platter, but you thought better.

“You have not once ever cared about anything but yourself or your own self-interests, that is the only reason you want me, is because I can strengthen your path to your sick sadistic goals, isn’t it? it’s the only reason you even suggest it, you are not doing this for me, it is for you.”

You argue, knowing that you should back away from him, but not moving a muscle in the slightest. You were desperately hoping you were wrong in your claim, that he would laugh in your face and call you a stupid naive girl, but he doesn’t. He pulls away from you, chuckling, as a sultry grin taking over his lips. It made your heart fall into the pit of your stomach, as you stared at him, your eyes wide and innocent. Clasping his hands behind his back, his smile fading slightly.

“It's true, I never have cared about much more than myself, but you are wrong in the fact that the only reason I want you is to fulfill my goals,” he pauses, inching closer, his calloused hands now cupping the soft skin of your cheeks, his thumb resting just under your chin as he uses it to tilt your head up, your eyes meeting his. “I desire you, I need you, I’m afraid I always have. I have cherished you since you were a girl, we have always shared an unbreakable bond, y/n. I want you to be mine.”

His words were true, every last bit, and you knew it, but that didn’t hide the fact that you still had a lingering feeling that he had other goals.

“That may be, Daemon, and I can’t deny that I feel something for you in return, but I cannot just leave, or give up on my people, my home. I cannot just discredit myself on a whim just because I am displeased with my situation.”

Your voice was hopeful, wishing that he would have more words to persuade you, to make you believe, even if it was in the slightest, that he wanted you for nothing more than for himself and nothing more.

“You also cannot stay here, unhappy, and seen as a mere object for someone else's pleasure. My sweet child, you are meant to be worshiped, to be feared and respected…”

His hands clasp your arms, just above where your dress had started to slip, running his hands over the exposed skin.

“Let me show you what it means to be so..”

Daemon brushes his thumb over your lips, holding your gaze for longer than he should have, his eyes boring into yours, searching your expression for even the slightest hint of approval, and permission, before they sift down to where his thumb resided.

“Daemon..” your voice soft, like a reverent whisper of a prayer. Every fiber of your being was set ablaze, urging you to accept him, his proposal, and everything he offered. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, forcing it open in a gentle manner, allowing for your heavy sighs to be heard. Fighting the urge to let your eyes fall closed at the mere thought of all he could do to you, do for you, you bring your hand up to rest over his, your thumb stroking the side of his hand delicately.

“I cannot.” you mutter.

If he was displeased with your response you didn’t know, for all he did was smirk, letting go of his hold on you.

“Just know you have options, my dear.”

With a yearning gaze, he simply retreats back the way he came, out through the passage. Letting go of the breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, you right your dress, tugging the fallen sleeves back up your shoulders, as you stare aimlessly at the spot where he stood mere moments ago.

Something about his words had intrigued you, perhaps it was the promise to show you a life you deserved, a way of living that you so longed for, and all by his side. To be his queen, and equal, something that you would not be so likely to receive from Tyland, nor anyone else for that matter. It set your mind into a frenzy to think that, despite knowing the man he was, the way he thought and acted, that nothing but truth was uttered to you. He wanted you.

Letting out an exasperated groan you turn to the window once more, all it would take was a step, but instead, you resulted in throwing yourself into your bed, in hopes of waking with a clear mind.

*****

You were not so lucky, forced to think of all the things Daemon said, offered, on constant repeat inside your head, taunting you, tempting you.

“To hell with it.” you mutter, determined to let nothing hold you back any longer. Reaching for your cloak, you pull it on and pull it closed. Pushing open the false wall, as you slipped into the dark and cold passage, one that you knew would only get you so far. Your steps were light and silent, as you raced your way through the corridors of the castle, eager to find what you sought out. Heart racing, as you descended down a flight of steps, weaving in and out of the shadows, sprinting even faster at the thoughts taking to your mind.

Halting in front of the pair of double doors that were ever so familiar to you, you take a labored breath, giving yourself one more chance to turn back and forget it. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t. Pushing one of them open, you slip inside to the quiet room. Flickering candles spread throughout, being the only thing that allowed you to see. The doorways to the balcony of the room, open wide, letting in the calm yet bracing breeze. Curtains lined the windows, flowing like a simple ball gown of a girl being whisked around. You lean yourself back against the door as a means to shut it, surveying the room for the subject you so desired. Taking a few languid steps into the room in search of him.

“You came..”

Breath hitching at the feeling of a warm, hard body pressed against your back, the familiar smell of him wafting around the room. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you to lean back into him, and you do. Letting the facade that surrounds you fade instantly.

“Show me,” you mumble, closing your eyes, ready to submit. Deft fingers find the strings of your cloak, pulling them to feel it tumble to the ground with a soft thump. His hand reaches for yours, sliding over it gently, as he lets his fingers intertwine with your own before he’s dragging you out onto the balcony. Moving to stand behind you once more, only to whisper in your ear.

“Look down there….” he coos, his hands holding onto your arms, as you feel his breath against your ear. “See all those people, living their lives, free of chaos, and duty…you owe them nothing y/n….. You need not think of them, any more than they do of you…wasting away in this castle, with people made to dictate your every move, every thought and desire…it is them who owes you everything…” He says with a hiss as if they had offended him in some way. You can feel his hand roaming the curvature of your figure as he whispers in your ear, his touch utterly intoxicating with each bit of pressure that he applies.

“You seem to think that you should be stuck here, that you were made to follow someone else, to live someone else's dream for you. That you don’t deserve to live for yourself. That’s not true, my love. You were made to rule, to be powerful, and you need to see that, y/n, you need to believe it, and I can help you… I am but your humble servant.”

The mixture of his words, how he knew you better than you seemed to know yourself, and the close proximity, the way he touched you, the way he made your body tingle with just the slightest brush of his fingers over your skin and his breath against your ear, made you crazy. As you stared down at the kingdom, seeing the lights of all of its residents, the faint glow against the dark of the night, you hadn’t realized that he was no longer holding you, nor the fact that he was no longer near you.

“They don’t deserve you,” he states plainly, admiring the way your skin glowed in the moonlight or the way you stood there, looking down at a kingdom that should be yours. Unaware of this, you turn around, aching for his touch once more. Standing before you, Daemon eyed you sinfully, and yet with adoration.

Taking a step closer to you once more, he drops to his knees, your eyes following his every move, which was so carefully calculated. With a soft grin on his face, he reaches out and grabs your leg, pulling it up to rest on his bent knee. The slit of your sleeping gown, now draping across your leg. Taking a deep breath at the sight of him, falling to his knees for you, you hold it, the anticipation of what was to come eating you alive.

“They don’t deserve you,” Daemon kisses the inner corner of your knee, his hand gliding along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. His eyes were glued to yours as if he didn’t want to miss a single thing that flashed across them. “They don’t deserve to worship you,” he continues, moving to kiss along the trail his hand had left, pushing your dress higher with each tender kiss, each word. His eyes drifted down to the spot where your dress began to slip down your shoulders and chest once again, leaving your sternum more and more exposed with each heavy breath you took. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispers, his mouth only inches from your bare heat, glistening right before his eyes. He places one more gentle kiss at the highest point of your thigh, the hem of your dress now bunched up around your hips, and the top, barely resting on the tops of your breasts.

“Do you believe me?” His eyes were dark, the violet shade nearly black in the pale light, but you could tell nonetheless what he said was genuine, true. Still holding onto your breath, you slowly nod, watching as his smile fades, and a determined look takes over his face. “Then let me have you…Let me do this for you, for us..”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before his mouth finds your awaiting cunt, tongue licking a single stripe up the length of it, one that has a jolt of pleasure rocking through you. Breath hitching loudly, your hands find the stone ledge that you were once peering over, holding onto it as a means to ground yourself. Head falling back and eyes falling closed, as Daemon gets to work. Pulling your leg over his shoulder, as he wraps his arm around it, to keep you sturdy. Nothing but lustful moans, and whimpers leave your lips, at the feeling of his tongue greedily lapping against you, teasing your clit with a few swirls of it, here and there, then to prodding at your entrance, toying with it.

You so desperately want to cling to his ashen hair, help guide him along by the roots of it, forcing him deeper into your pussy, but the fear of falling at a time like this was much greater. You couldn’t risk it now. Daemon’s tongue circles your needy entrance once more, his nose stimulating your aching clit, noting the way your body shutters, at his touch. He can't help the devilish grin that forms when he thrusts his tongue into you, and you albeit cry out. He instantly moans at the taste of you, like it was the sweetest thing that had ever graced his tongue. He wanted to touch you, to lie with you and feel you writhe beneath him, while he was free to explore every part of you with his mouth, and hands, but he would soon get the chance.

The dress you wore had now fallen past your breasts, your nipples now victim to the cool Westerosian air, hardening as the breeze blew over them, begging to be tended to, but you didn't seem to notice or even care, your mind was elsewhere. Hyper Fixated on the pattern that he was using, to bring you closer and closer to the edge. A strange heat pooling just under your navel, as he begins to suck on your clit. You decided to chance it, removing one of your hands from the ledge only to bury it in the depths of his hair, tugging on the strands with each wave that washed over you. You needed him closer, you needed more of him, and however you got it, you didn’t care, as long as it was him.

“Daemon..Daemon….” you whimper.

There was no use in attempting to form a sentence, not that you had one that particularly mattered in the moment. There was nothing coherent that flooded your mind, and if there was, it would soon be forgotten. Your leg tightens over his back, pulling him closer to you, listening to the way he groans in delight over your response to him. Just as you were falling apart, so was he. His cock strained painfully against his trousers, with nothing to aid it. As he coaxes another loud moan from you, your head shoots forward, and your eyes open, only to see that his gaze hadn’t left you in the slightest. His eyes still very much fixated on the sight of you, your heaving chest, your agape mouth, rosy cheeks, all of it, still in his sight.

He had never seen anything more magnificent, more beautiful, than what was before him, who. You were nothing short of a piece of art, that he would gladly spend his life admiring. As his mouth continued its assault on you, his fingers quickly found a pace, moving inside of you, curling and pumping deeper and deeper. He was pushing you closer to the edge of your release, building quickly inside you, knowing that it would break at any given moment, and then it did. Fire burned through you, consuming you completely. Only his name and hoarse moans called out into the open air, as you struggled to make sense of it all. Daemon’s hand that was once brought about your pleasure was now resting just over your cold one that was sturdily clinging to the stone guard, his fingers tangling with yours once more, as he did nothing to bring you down, his tongue still having its way with you. His mouth devours your pleasure as his own.

Nothing had ever compared to what you felt in the moment, euphoria filling your veins, fogging your head, and blurring your vision, and body suddenly weak and yet so alive. The foreign feeling rippled throughout you, and it was one that was utterly addicting, having you craving so much more. You needed it.

With your mouth still agape, fighting to catch your breath, panting loudly, your eyes fall closed and your head back once more. You could feel your legs ready to give up on you in a moment's notice, and you surmise that the only thing that was keeping you upright, was his grip on you, and the support of the railing behind you.

After a few moments, Daemon lets you down easy, slowing his pace to a stop. Pulling away from you, chin glistening with your sweet release. He wipes his hand over his mouth quickly, before his lean frame is hovering over yours. Slowly guiding you by his hold on your chin, to stand back up straight. Using nothing more than the weight of his body against yours, to keep you upright and sturdy. Shivers run down your spine as you feel his hard length pressing firmly against your waist, gasping in the slightest.

"You belong with me, y/n, and I will do everything I can to prove it," he says softly, his eyes darting back and forth between your two, noting the drunken look in them. He too wore a similar look, one of bliss, and indulgence. Without much thought, you lean forward and catch him in a breathless kiss. Instantly tasting yourself on his tongue, as it meets yours. He pulls you into him more, hands cradling the back of your neck, as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth, over the brush of your tongue in his mouth. His hand falls to your hip, squeezing the flesh of it, as a means to release some of the tension begging to escape him. Brushing your dress aside, as he grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping tightly around his torso. With ease he moved you back into the dimly lit room, weaving his way around the furniture, stopping only when he met the edge of his bed, slowly laying you on your back as he followed, hovering over you. His hand glides up the sides of your thighs, as he moves to kiss along your jaw, and neck, sucking marks into your pale skin, marks that would no doubt later aid in the spread of rumors.

Your hands tangle in his hair once more, guiding his head along your body as he moves to kiss over your breasts, and down your sternum, running his tongue back up it, only to kiss back down over your other breast, moaning sweet praises as he goes. The dress that you wore now is a distant memory, as it sat in a jumbled mess over your torso, covering nothing but your navel. Your sex was exposed, and tender as the belt of Daemon’s tunic brushed over it again and again. Pathetic mewls leave your lips, at his every touch.

“y/n, nyke would spend se rest hen issa tubissa, daor matter skorkydoso bōsa, worshipping ao.” he rasps against your tender, pale skin. Cupping his cheeks with your cold frail hands, forcing him to look at you, your eyes meet his, cold and dark, and yet utterly warm and invigorating.

“Nyke aōhon, daemon, emagon issa, claim issa syt aōha own.”

It was all he needed to hear from you, the permission to have you all for himself, to take you as his and only his. His eyes softened, but then something shy of a wild look filled them. His lips find yours once more, catching you slightly by surprise, his tongue finding yours, as he stroked it with his own.

Your nimble hands help him quickly out of his tunic, discarding it to the stone floor, soon to be forgotten, as well as the rest of his pointless clothing. The simple frock that once covered you was now gone, tangled in the mess of his own clothes on the floor, and nothing stood between the pair of you.

Watching as his eyes drink in every sinful inch of you, memorizing every curve, scar, and blemish to your skin, you felt so exposed, and yet so desired.

“Flip over for me, my love..”

You do as you're told, lying on your stomach, eagerly awaiting him. His calloused hand finds your hip, his thumb gently massaging at your lower back as he pushes your legs apart with his knee. You feel his hot breath fanning against your back, his lips kissing down the curve of your spine.

“Perfection…..utter perfection.”

You gasp as you feel the head of his cock nudge against your cunt, your wall instantly clenching around the air, at the thought of him filling you up, stretching you out perfectly. At the little whine you let out, you can feel Daemon’s smile on the skin of your shoulder blade.

“Daemon..please..” you murmur so softly that you’re not even sure he heard it, but as soon as you feel his cock slowly pressing into your needy entrance, you surmise he got the idea. As he pushed deeper into you, leaning over your frame once more, his bare chest pressed firmly against your back, kissing gently at your shoulders and the side of your neck, his thumb still massaging your lower back. He filled you with a delicious stretch, pain and pleasure engulfing your senses, taking him the best you could. Whispering sweet praises into your ear as he continued, feeling your body tense beneath him, but then relaxed almost instantly.

Breathing out unholy profanities as he finally bottoms out inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to him. You crane your head back to look at him, catching his gaze.

“Don’t stop,” you say softly.

Daemon heeded your words, slowly dragging out of you, the tip of his cock barely resting inside of you, only to thrust back into you, causing a deep moan to be ripped from you. You let your hand reach behind you, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks which were already in disarray once more, pulling on it, as he rocked his body against yours, the drag of his cock, rendering you far drunker than any Dornish red, or cider ever could. Your other hand grasps at the linens of his bed in response to him setting a quicker and deeper pace, his cock perfectly brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

The feeling of him was beyond addicting, he knew just how to work your body, how to pull the most sinful sounds from you, to have your body responding to him so intimately, like he had been doing it for years. Nothing but lustful sounds filled the room, the sound of his skin against yours, the moans and cries that leave you and the earthy groans and labored grunts that leave him. His name was on your tongue, muttered softly as a sense of encouragement as he fucked you, hand clinging to your hip in a sense of desperation. It was the only thing that kept him from losing control. The tingling sensation that you had once felt was coming back, building intensely in your lower belly, your walls clenching in response.

“Daemon…I-”

He understood, feeling it for himself. Reluctantly he pulled out of you, flipping you over once more so that now he could see you. See the way your face contorted in pleasure, see the way your eyes roll back when he hits that spot perfectly, so he could watch eagerly as your chest rose and fell, your heart beating rapidly, all from his doing. Hooking your leg over his arm quickly, he pushed back into you, instantly finding his set pace once more, but this time with an added feature. His thumb met your cunt, spreading around your pooling arousal, as he used it to massage your clit.

“Nyke jaelagon naejot urnēbagon ao māzigon undone, nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon sepār skorkydoso vok ao issi, issa jorrāelagon, māzigon syt issa.”

It wasn’t long before the feeling returned, building quickly, as it rendered your body numb. You cling to his shoulder, nails sinking into his skin, your other hand still firmly carding through his hair, as it was your only tether to reality. Seeing him like this, pupils blown, hair disheveled, tired, hungry look in his eyes, and yet met with so much adoration, you were flooded with emotion. He had convinced you, not just with his words, but with everything he gave you. Deep down you had already known what you wanted from him, but now there was no point in denying it now.

Your release found you quickly, nearly blindsiding you. Your head lulled back, and your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted to look at him, to see him but you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes open. Back arching off the bed, as you let go of his hair, clinging to the sheets desperately. Your legs were numb, your mind foggy, and your body coursing with heat, as your climax took over.

“Konīr īlon jikagon, māzigon syt issa, issa jorrāelagon,” he says lowly.

Daemon’s words were nothing short of improper, but they sounded like a sweet prayer that he muttered against your skin. It wasn’t long before he followed after you, spilling his seed into your achy cunt, soothing your walls. A thin layer of sweat coats your bodies, as you try to catch your hurried breaths. Slowing his thrusts to a halt, while he kissed your face, tenderly, brushing your damp hair out of your face.

Despite wanting to stay by his side all night, tangled in the sheets, nothing but the heat of his own body to keep you warm, you knew that you couldn’t. This, was only step one, and you knew what had to be done, as did he. He rolls off of you, with a sigh of relief. Nothing needed to be said, the look shared between the pair of you, the one of longing for more, but knowing the limits.

You find your gown, a crumpled mess on the floor, and slip it back on, unknowing that Daemon was now standing behind you, his hands caressing your arms, whilst his lips explored your shoulders with delicate, loving kisses.

“Iksā sīr incredibly gevie, ñuha jorrāelagon”

His hand finds your jaw, turning your head slowly, your eyes able to meet his. The yearning overly present in his gaze. Placing a slow passionate kiss on your lips, he knew he had to let you go. Let you make your way back through the castle, where everyone could see you. With one final kiss, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, and made your way to the door, giving him a soft smile, before you disappeared into the dimly light castle.