yovrstruly00 - Tumblr blog

[yovrstruly00]

t.w: hallucinations

"i am just dreaming." you murmured as you splashed water on your face. it's 3am in the morning and you woke up all cold and shivering. another nightmare. great. you gazed at your dilated eyes and sickly complexion in front of your bathroom mirror. bottles of pills and cigarette ends scattered on the floor. 

you closed your eyes, breathed in and out. that was just a dream, but it felt so real. his lips ghosting over yours as he caressed your face with the back of his hand, his cold touch and deep voice that you've been longing for. you feel tears rimming around your eyes. you looked up again at your reflection, only to be taken aback. having full faith that it had to be a kind of delusion.

"miguel?" you whispered as your eyes widened at the reflections in front of you. eyes staring back at you. this isn't real, this isn't real, you're not real. you shook your head as tears flowed through your cheeks. 

"this is not real. he's not here anymore. i'm just dreaming. god let this be a dream please." you cried as you repeatedly pat your face. you looked back at the dull eyes staring at you from the mirror's reflection that really wasn't there.

"but i am here, aren't i, mi querida?"

[yovrstruly00]

Huzzah!

[yovrstruly00]

cute

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[yovrstruly00]

“why don’t you lift your hips for me amor?”. miguel whispered in your ear as he caressed your thigh. you lift your hips so miguel would get better access to your night wear .

“oh miguel” you moaned as he gently circled your clit with his thumb. his lips ghosted over your neck, latching and sucking your tit, as he continues to play with your clit. you buck your hips towards his as he moved your panties to the side.

“patience mami, I want to take my time with you.” miguel said. he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. his cock hardens at the sight of you. your puppy eyes and pouty lips as you wait for him. he leans back to your face and kissed you.

“we have all night amor. good thing the kids aren’t home hm?”

[yovrstruly00]

tainted faces | part 4

What if Lucerys Velaryon was born a girl? AND that Aemond Targaryen is head over heels for her instead!

tainted faces | part one

tainted faces | part two

tainted faces | part three

trigger warning: violence (self-hurt), incest (niece x uncle), cursing, nudity

genre: angst? enemies to lovers

“Let us pray. O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life. Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name. That as Aemond Targaryen of House Targaryen, and Lyssaera Velaryon of House Velaryon, lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vows and covenants betwixt them made, and may ever hereafter remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws, through our Lord. Amen.” The priest announced. Aemond was staring into her melancholic eye as he remained expressionless.

“May God bless, preserve, and keep you, the Lord mercifully show his favour whilst looking upon you, and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen'' The priest continued. Lyssaera didn’t know what to do, so she looked at Alicent who was standing a few feets away, hands clutched together. She nodded at Lyssaera. Aemond breathed in before reaching Lyssaera’s face. His lips hesitantly lingering near hers. He gave her a peck on the cheek. He stood back and maintained his eye contact with her. Lyssaera made it quick. She gulped after pecking him on the cheek.

The ceremony was finally over. Lyssaera was quiet the whole time. Lyssaera wanted to run away. She wanted to go back. Aemond knows she’s grieving for herself. They both faced the people in front of them. Helaena offers a comforting smile to her niece. Aegon with a bored look on his face, looking like he didn’t even want to be there in the first place. Alicent’s eyes were blank. Lyssaera couldn’t read her face at all. She looked at Aemond who offered his arm but she looked down instead. Aemond cleared his throat, taking Lyssaera's rejection.

"Not a nice way to treat your husband hm?" He said making Lyssaera scoff. "If you'd like to sleep in the same room as me tonight, I suggest you don't utter a single word today." She suggested.

The moment Aemond and Alicent heard Lyssaera’s offer, they didn’t waste any time. Lady servants assisted Lyssaera to her mother’s former quarters. Alicent gripped Aemond’s hand, shock evident in her teary eyes.

“What did you do?” She asked with a breathy voice. He took in her mother’s hand. Alicent was looking at her son intently, waiting for his answer. “What was expected to be done. What has to be done, mother.” He replied, making Alicent sigh.

“I don’t understand Aemond. Was Rhaenyra behind this?” She confessed. Aemond knows she’s scared. Alicent knows how much Rhaenyra loves her children. As a mother herself, the thought of giving her only daughter away pains her. 

“Lyssaera needs me.” Aemond simply replied. Alicent lowered her head. She knew she didn't have any chance to change her son’s mind. Aemond is persistent, and she knows that too well. 

“I am expecting that we will be wed later evening.  Now if you’ll excuse me. I shall return to my quarters.” Aemond said as he released his grip on Alicent’s hands. He walked away, returning to his quarters with a grin on his face.

Aemond closed the door. His eyes on Lyssaera who was standing stiffly in front of the fireplace. “Lyssaera”. He called. Lyssaera turned to face Aemond. She removed the heavy cloak around her shoulders. Reaching for her braids, undoing it. She gulps as Aemond stares at her, waiting for her next move. She fixes her composure and breathes in deeply before sliding the satin white cloth off of her shoulder. She was left standing with no undergarments and clothing, bare naked, in front of him. In front of her husband. Aemond’s eye were roaming around her figure. She lifted her hands to unclasp the necklace around her neck, dropping it to the floor, on the gown that pools around her ankles. Lyssaera keeps her eye contact with Aemond. Feeling the cold wind against her skin, she shuddered. His eyes wide and lips slightly parted and his fists were clenched.

“What is this?” Aemond asked harshly.  Lyssaera looked around before answering.

“Consummation. They’d probably expect me to be pregnant after a few moons.” Aemond gulped at her words. The thought of Lyssaera being round and full of him drives him mad. Her stomach pregnant with his babe. 

"No." He said harshly, making Lyssaera look at him in confusion. "I thought you wanted this Aemond? Isn't this what you wanted?" She spatted, but he just silently looked at her.

“They would need proof.” She stated. Lyssaera folded her arms around her chest, trying to keep herself warm and comfortable. Her bosom pressed up at the action, making Aemond weak in the knees. Aemond reached for the small blade in the holster of his belt. He raised his palm above the bed and making a small slice but deep enough to bleed.

“Get dressed Lyssaera. I do not wish to bed you.” Aemond commanded.

"This is fucking ridiculous." Lyssaera uttered under her breath as she grabbed the night garments on their shared bed. She pulled the thin cloth over her head, allowing it to hang on her shoulders and drape all over her body. Her perky nipples peaking through. Aemond looked away.

Lies, all lies. He said to himself. He wanted her. He wants her. It was like temptation in its fullest form. Her long luscious wavy locks falling down her back. Her fair skin and freckles scattered all over her chest. Her curved waist and plump thighs. Aemond breathes in deeply. What a fucking liar. He said to himself. He turned his back on Lyssaera, giving her privacy to wear her night garments. He hates this moment. He hates himself. Lyssaera didn’t know how much Aemond wanted to take her. He wanted to do everything he wanted to do, but that left him with a wound on his palm. He felt the bed he was sitting on shifted. Lyssaera pulled up the covers to protect her body from the cold, or from him. He stood up and proceeded to the chair in front of the fireplace. Her dress and necklace are still on the floor. He hisses because of the stinging feeling on his palm. 

Lyssaera was silently crying, trying her best to muffle her cries whilst Aemond pretended that he couldn’t hear her. He looked at her figure before he spoke. “Sleep now Lyssa, my darling wife.” He said, making Lyssaera's heart thump at the childhood nickname. He grabbed the gown from the floor and pressed it on his palm. His blood stained the pristine white satin. He leaned back on the chair and rested his head back and sighed. The stinging on his palm couldn’t compare to the ache the feeling inside his trousers.

Lyssaera Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen

TAGS:

@ephmeralninon @sustisama @shiranai-atsune @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @zafirina12 @cl-0-vr @julczimozart @azaleapotterblack @missusnora @hopebaker @maylaysia109

[yovrstruly00]

hidden desires | tom bennett

“Stop it Tom, can’t you see I'm busy? What a fuckin’ bastard.” You complained as you crumpled the letter on your table. You heard Tom chuckle, making you throw the crumpled paper at him. “Who are you even writin’ to? That lad from the diner? Wasn’t he in the army?” He asked continuously, hovering over you as you started rewriting your letter. 

“Yeah. Unlike you, he’s noble. Had to go with your sister to get you out of jail. Don’t you have an ounce of decency in you?” You retorted, making him step away from you, raising both of his palms in the air in defeat. 

Lois and his dad, Mr. Bennett, as you call him, were nice enough to let you reside in their home. You’ve been staying at their place for a few months now since your dad was deployed. You share a bed with Lois, which you were hesitant at first since she’s roommates with her brother. Tom is your best friend's brother. You despise him a lot because of his cocky and brash attitude. You hate interacting with him, you always avoid him, but he lives there too, so there’s nothing you can really do about it. But Tom wasn’t home most of the time, and he comes home during the day, just a few minutes before you leave for work. But for these past few weeks, he’s been staying at home more, bugging the hell out of you if his sister is absent. 

‘How are you James? It has been six weeks since you last wrote. I am getting a bit worried-’

Your writing was interrupted when Tom jerked the paper from you. You stood up quickly to retrieve the paper, but Tom is tall. He raised his arm and tiptoed so you won’t be able to reach the letter. You stomped in annoyance and smacked his chest which made him whine. 

“You’re still writin' to him?” He asked as he looked down at you and gave you a questioning look. You rolled your eyes and returned to your seat with heavy feet. You sighed and groaned. You leaned back and took a sip of your tea to ease yourself. 

“I’d like to assume that he’s dead cold as we speak, or fuckin’ some whore somewhere in Argentina. Maybe that’s why he won’t write back to you.” He teased which was your last straw. You had enough of him. You stood up and faced him, making him smirk. “You blithering son of a bitch. I had enough of you Tom!” You exclaimed but he just shrugged. You palmed your face as you let out an exasperated breath. 

“I need air.” You told him as you strode away to grab your coat near the front door. 

“It’s late and cold already.” He simply said. 

"I want to be away from you!" You yelled. With your narrowed eyes on him, he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "Quit pestering me will you!? It has been weeks! You’ve been infuriating me with your presence! I feel bad for your family for having to put up with your intolerable personality." You took a step back when he strutted toward you. He was too close for your liking. You retreated, but your back met the door. He pursed his lips and appraised you. Getting dizzy, you blinked a few times to process how close he was. 

“Go on love, run your filthy mouth again.” He taunted you, making you break eye contact with him. He tutted at your action, you heard him let out a scornful chuckle. “Eyes on me sweets.” He instructed, but you chose to ignore him, still looking away. “I said, eyes on me.” He repeated, but with more authority in his voice, making your heart palpitate. You can feel his hot breath near your face. You’re nervous, you’re scared, you don’t know what’s going on, it’s the first time he acted like this with you. You looked up at him nervously. 

“Told you to run your mouth again didn’t I?” He said, maintaining his eye contact with yours. Your dumb pretty doe eyes making him weak in the knees and there's the growing ache in his trousers. Blinking almost every second to stop a tear from coming out. You were about to cry.

Your soft features were a feast to his eyes. You didn’t know about the way he ogles at you every time you walk out the door. The way when his eye quickly glances at your sleeping figure, your nightgown riling up to your thigh. When he looks at your lips after you drink your morning milk. How he imagines your red lips staining his white shirts. How he imagines you riding his cock, making a mess on his sheets. How he imagines you moaning his name every night whilst he sucks on your tits like a hungry calf. You didn’t know how much he wanted to fuck you. 

“Hmm, quiet now aren’t we?” He teased. You let out a heavy sigh as he gets closer to your body. It makes your knees weak. The boyish look on his face and his cockiness, it irritates you. But now, you couldn’t even utter a single word. He looks down on your lips before looking at your eyes again. He slowly leans forward, giving you time to push him away. His arms caging your body beneath him. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips on yours. You tensed, making you hold your breath. He pulled away because of your reaction. Wide eyes narrowing on him. You kept quiet, making him groan in frustration. He brought his other arm down to place it down on your hip, pulling you toward his hard cock, making you gasp. 

You felt his lips on yours again, but this time you kissed him back. Messy and needy his kisses were. Nibbling your lips as he gropes your backside, making you moan in his mouth. His other hand on your soft locks to deepen the heated kiss. He pulled back so you can both catch your breaths. Your doe eyes hazy and your glazed lips parted, the sight makes him want him to take you right there now. “P-please Tom.” You pleaded before you pulled him back. While his other arm was still grasping your hair, he placed his thigh between your legs and his strong arm on the wall to support his weight. He groaned once you rocked your pelvis on his thigh. The hand on your hair went down to your breasts. Pulling the fabric down to release your mounds. His lips moved to your tits, sucking it while molesting the other.

"Fuckin' heavenly tits." You heard him mumble under his breath. Making your cunt ache mucu more.

“Please Tom”. You whimpered. He postured himself up, leveling his face with yours. “Please what love?” He sneered. “Please please touch me.” You begged.

He crashed his lips into yours once again. Fondling with your tits made you moan. His hand moved down to your skirts, ruching it up to cup your cunt. He glides his fingers over your damp underwear. 

“Soaked for me huh? Only my cock can shut you up eh?” His kisses went down to your neck, just below your jaw, sucking on it enough to leave marks as he pulled your underwear down. “F-fuckin’ hell Tom!” You whimpered once he inserted two of his fingers. His thumb circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers into you. Your knees weaken at his actions. You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. Submissively staring into his eyes as you rock your cunt into his slender fingers.

“Want your cock in me Tom please.” Your pleads were enough to make him go feral. You shuddered at the emptiness when he pulled his fingers out of you. Fastly undoing his belt and zipper, his angry cock sprung free. He spat on his palm to lubricate his member. He hooked up your thigh on his arm and positioned his cock near your entrance. He leaned his face against yours and kissed you. You moaned once he entered you. He was big. He pulled away from the kiss to look at you. Months of dreaming about you, how your cunt tastes like, your body squirming beneath him, begging him for release. Tom was filled with ecstasy.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" You cried out as he harshly thrusted into your throbbing cunt. The door squeaking from the powerful thrusts. The pleasure making you vulnerable beneath him. Your moans corrupting him completely. Squeezing your bouncing tits.

“What a tight cunt you have eh? You'll let me cum in you love? Make me a dad? Hm? Want me to fill you up nice and round?” He thrusted harder. Making you lean back completely on the door, holding onto his shoulder for stability. Tom’s mind was hazy. All he could think about at this moment was how warm and tight your pussy is. His cock moulds your pussy to fit his. He placed both of his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock. Your fucked out state was enough for him. 

“Did he fuck you too? That bastard leaving my pretty girl desperate and heart broken?" He asked. Jealousy was evident in his voice. “A whore huh? You’re too tight to be a whore. You're enjoying my cock too much.” Tom snickered. His hard thrusts are consistent, making you moan his name repeatedly. You placed your hand on his nape to pull him in for a kiss. The angle makes your knees weak. You moan loudly as you fondle with your tits. The sight before Tom made him weak.

“I-i’m close Tom!” You exclaimed. His thumb circled your clit as he returned to your neck. 

“Cum for me my sweet.” He whispered in your ear, the endearment making you clench around his cock. You gasped aloud as you released, making Tom pull out. Tom wrapped his arms around you so he could catch your weakened body. You looked at him with hooded eyes. Tom tidies your shirt and skirt and gropes your backside after.

“Y-you haven’t cummed yet Tommy.” You spoke in a husky tone. Tom adored the new state he was witnessing right now. You were weak and all over him. He pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Who told you that we're finished? Upstairs now.” Those sentences are enough to make you hurry upstairs with Tom behind you. Both of you were glad that Mr. Bennett and Lois were away for a week. Tom was already thinking of ways he’s going to fuck you through the night, and hopefully to fuck out that bastard James out of your mind.

[yovrstruly00]

i accept requests now!

Rules when requesting:

Be kind!

I will never write anything about racism.

It might take me a few days before finishing a request, so please be patient with me! :> But if I am not busy, I might write and post it as soon as possible.

I can write anything u want, just be respectful.

I am also looking for mutuals! I want to have a fun and nice time with everyone. Anyone is welcome.

[yovrstruly00]

part three of tainted faces is posted! thank you for the overwhelming love ♡ will publish part four before the week ends!

[yovrstruly00]

tainted faces | part 3

What if Lucerys Velaryon was born a girl? AND that Aemond Targaryen is head over heels for her instead!

tainted faces | part one

tainted faces | part two

tainted faces | part four

A/N: sorry it took me a few days before updating! signal is shit.

trigger warning: violence (slapping), incest

genre: angst? enemies to lovers

Jacaerys was restless, pacing around. Lyssaera is behind him, picking at her nails as she bites the inside of her cheek. 

"I want to murder him. I shall put his head on a spike-"

"And be known as a kinslayer? Are you a fool?" Rhaenyra blurted out, interrupting her oldest son. "It is not a smart choice to start a war. The Greens will take over Driftmark and strip all of our birthrights, like what they did to me. Aemond will take what is rightfully ours."

"Then you suggest that we send Lyssaera away rather than fight for her," Jacaerys said through gritted teeth.

"Know your place boy. You shall never speak to your mother like that again. Get out, the both of you." Daemon commanded. Lyssaera and Jacaerys glanced at each other before exiting the hall with heavy footsteps, leaving their mother and uncle in the meeting hall. 

"Are you a fool Rhaenyra? Giving her away is like sending in a pig for slaughter!" Daemon exclaimed. He walked towards Rhaenyra as he leaned on the painted table. Daemon was never the best at showing his affection, but with his actions, Rhaenyra knew that Daemon cared for Lyssaera as if she was his own daughter.

"If we do this, there will be no bloodshed. This is for her legitimacy as an heir, and the children she will bear." Rhaenyra explained as she reached out for Daemon’s hand, but Daemon pulled her in harshly making Rhaenyra trip over her own foot. Daemon’s deadpan eyes stared into Rhaenyra’s eyes.

"The absolute spitting image of my brother, a coward." Daemon sneered, making Rhaenyra slap him. She forced herself out of Daemon’s grip as she dusted the skirts of her gown. Giving him a spiteful look before walking away. 

Lyssaera was sobbing. She never felt so betrayed, what hurt her more is that she felt like her own mother was betraying her. She felt Jace embracing her, and she leaned her head on his chest as she cried.

"I swore to you sister. I’ll never let anything terrible happen to you."

"But Driftmark." She sobbed into his chest.

"Who in the Seven Hells care about Driftmark? I’ll give you King’s Landing and Dragonstone if that's what you want sister. Behead and kill all those who oppose." He chuckled, hoping to ease her cries and pain.

"You’ve been a doting brother Jace, but it is not the time to make childish promises. What must I do?" Lyssaera expressed as she wiped her tears with the cuffs of her gown.

"Lyssa, Driftmark is yours." Jacaerys reassured. She took a quick step back, narrowing her eyes, and stared at her brother.

"We are bastards! Chocolate brown locks? Dark amber eyes? Do you think that any living or dead Velaryons and Targaryens possess these traits? We do not possess platinum-colored locks nor lilac eyes like the rest of them. We are the bastards of Harwin Strong! Do you think I do not notice it? Servants and maids whispering and staring at us? They question my legitimacy because I am tainted with Ser Harwin’s blood, as are you! And you are the heir to the Iron Throne! But that does not make you and I different. We both know it brother, do not even deny it." Lyssaera exhaled. Jacaerys did not know what to say making him look away from her sister. He clenched his jaw and sighed, taking both of Lyssaera’s arms to hold her. He leveled his face with hers and gave her a reassuring smile.

"They may call us bastards, they may call us Strongs, but when the lords and men see us on dragonback they will know that as a lie. Only Targaryens ride dragons, sister. Remember that from now on." Jacaerys responded as he leaned his forehead on hers.

"I shall proceed to my quarters. I wish to be alone, brother." Lyssaera was numb. She felt cold as she was walking to her quarters. It felt as if the world was shutting her out. She fell to her feet once she closed the doors of her quarters. Hiccuped breathing as she rocked herself. She didn't know how to calm herself down.

⎯⎯

It was dead of the night already, yet she was still up and awake in her quarters. Her eyes are puffy and her face red. She refused to eat supper with her family. Jacaerys was worried, especially Rhaenyra, but they ought to give her the space she needs. She paced around her room. She despises herself for even thinking about it. But for her family, she’d do everything.

She does not really care about her legitimacy or birthright, but what choice does she have? Knowing what should be done, she grabbed a book and tore a page. She grabbed her quill and dipped it in dark ink. Tears flow as she writes on the torn parchment. She folded it and left it on her bed.

She did not bother tidying herself. She grabbed her cloak and hung it over her shoulder. She pushed the gigantic portrait on her wall, revealing a hidden passageway. She tried her best to muffle her cries.

She walked through the sands in the dead of the cold night. She was shivering. She can hear Arrax growling. She rushed towards the beast and stroked its chest to calm it down.

"Iksan sȳz valītsos, lykiri Arrax lykiri, dohaeris Arrax."

'I am fine boy. Calm down, calm down. Serve me, Arrax'

She shushed Arrax as she saddled up on the beast.

"Soves"

'Fly'

Arrax stretched its wings and stomped its feet. Roaring as the beast soared towards the dark skies. She worries about her family. She thought about Jacaerys at the last minute. She sobbed her eyes out, the brutal wind and rain pelting her face. She cried out to the gods as Arrax glided through the cold raging night skies, as if it was one with her.

⎯⎯

The knock on Aemond Targaryen's door jolted him awake. He groans and shifts before sitting up.

"My Prince, Queen Alicent, has requested your presence in the Great Hall." A knight informed him urgently. Without a second thought, Aemond hurried to the Great Hall. 

His eyes widened at the sight before him. Lyssaera Velaryon was soaked, kneeling on the ground. He huffed in disbelief, unable to move, and was speechless. His heart was pounding inside his chest. It was almost dawn. He bit his tongue to see if he was dreaming. She was in a weak state. She looked at Alicent and then at Aemond. She looked at him with intent in her eyes. Lyssaera was shivering and pale, her eyes deep, and her lips quivering. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

"Iksan kesīr sir. Take me as your wife, Aemond."

TAGS:

@azaleapotterblack @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @maylaysia109 @shamelessblazecrown @hopebaker

[yovrstruly00]

welcome to my masterlist!

I accept requests!

AEMOND TARGARYEN ; HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

drabbles

⌞ something to remember me by (angst/comfort)

⌞ false god (angst)

fics

tainted faces (4/?)

⌞ tainted faces part 1 (angst)

⌞ tainted faces part 2 (angst)

⌞ tainted faces part 3 (angst)

⌞ tainted faces part 4 (angst)

TOM BENNETT ; WORLD ON FIRE

drabbles

⌞ hidden desires (smut)

I will write for more other characters soon!

[yovrstruly00]

Undisclosed Desires

Synopsis: You have been captured by Aemond and ordered to be returned to Aegon to await death, but passions of different varieties arise and undisclosed desires are laid out.

Warnings: smut (18+) involving penetrative sex (but romantic cos I’m not made of stone), murder, sexual harrassment, choking (almost dying lol), some foul language too why not

Words: 4.3k

You shivered slightly, the cold now having penetrated your bones and sending a chill that seemed to rattle down your spine. You were not dressed for the nightly chill in a simple men’s shirt and leather bottoms, not entirely becoming of a Lady, but those notions were abandoned long ago. You tried to rub your legs together to create some heat to warm your body, hands firmly tied behind you against a tree. How did it come to this, you thought to yourself.

You looked up to the moon high in the night sky, the only light that shone down on you and the surrounding woodland. You thought you had escaped King’s Landing undetected, and your eyes closed at the frustration of how wrong you had been. The cool light of the moon somehow made you feel even colder, the only warmth around your shoulders being your wavy long hair, now windswept and tangled.  

Keep reading

[yovrstruly00]

false god

Aemond pulled away from her. He studied her features, her longing doe eyes locked on his own. "Forget that any of this happened." He said. Her face was forming a frown. Their lips were swollen, their chocolate and platinum hair shriveled, and their eyes darken with torment and desperation.

"I thought I was changing your mind?" She asked in confusion. She placed her hand on Aemond's cheek, but he striked it away, making her step back a little from him.

"Oh, naive youth. Nothing was ever going to change my mind." Aemond kept his distance while still looking closely at her. "You let your blind faith lead you?"

"I know you, uncle, we both know each other! We've shared time and moments, intimate moments. Are you denying me?" She was choked up, and her eyes were tearing up. "Do you deny what we have? Did I do something? Have I wronged you?" Aemond knows she was about to cry. He hated hurting her. Furious at himself for letting someone so precious and close to him go. Hurting and pushing away the one who holds his heart. The one who got him wrapped around her finger.

"You are a child!" he shouts as the silence that follows deafens their ears. Aemond wanted to comfort her. Battling the urge to wrap his arms around her and kiss her to provide her comfort. He looked down before speaking again, "You must leave for Dragonstone now, my sister awaits you".

"N-no Aemond no, please don't do this to me. I need you, I burn for you, we burn together. We are gods, we are fire, we are meant to be with each other, we are meant to burn together." She sobbed as she begged. Aemond's heart ached at her confession. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to his face.

"Do not mistake lust for love, niece. I do not see you the way you see me. I am not at fault that you chose to confide in me. Leave now, or I'll hurt you. You disgust me bastard." Aemond hissed. Agony was in her eyes as tears continued streaming down her cheeks.

She gently pushed Aemond's hand away from her arm. She leaned forward, her lips about to touch his cheek, but she resisted, not wanting him to hurt her any further, making her step back and stare at his eye, and scanned his harsh features before turning her back on him and walking away. Leaving their yearning hearts broken. 

[yovrstruly00]

tainted faces | part two

What if Lucerys Velaryon was born a girl? AND that Aemond Targaryen is head over heels for her instead!

tainted faces | part one

tainted faces | part three

tainted faces | part four

A/N: y'all are so nice! thank you so much for requesting part two and leaving some reviews. although english isn't my first language, i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3 BTW i'll be posting part three soon!!

trigger warning: cursing, mentions of death, incest

genre: angst? slow burn enemies to lovers

Lyssaera placed her hair brush down her vanity table. She took her face powder and dabbed it on her face. She took a deep breath before touching the scar. It has been a year since the dining hall incident. They left for Dragonstone immediately after the maesters finished stitching the cut.

The scar made her feel hideous. Crying almost every night because of the pain inflicted upon her. After that night, Jacaerys also became protective of her. Scowling at anyone who stares or whispers about her. After being left alone in her thoughts for a while, she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She said, Jacaerys entered her bedchamber. “Do you know what is happening? I think this place is in chaos.” He said. “What? I have no idea what you are saying Jace.” Lyssaera placed the jar of powder back on her vanity before walking to Jacaerys. “Want to see for yourself sister?” He said as they both stepped out of her bedchamber.

The people were rushing, leaving Lyssaera and Jacaerys clueless. They gave each other a confused look. "What’s happening? Is there something wrong?" Lyssaera asked her brother. He shrugged as he grabbed the arm of some guard. "M-my prince?" The guard stuttered, stepping backward to offer Jacaerys space.

"What is all this haste about?" he asked. The guard hesitated before answering, but he composed himself before talking. "I think it is better if you hear it from the Princess Rhaenyra, my Prince." The guard said it plainly, bowing his head before going away.

"This is not good, brother, we should look for our mother." Lyssaera rushed, with Jacaerys behind her. As soon as they arrived at their mother’s quarters, they didn’t waste any time asking questions.

"What’s going on, mother? Everyone was in such a hurry down the hall." Jacaerys asked. Sadness was seen in Rhaenyra’s face. They also looked at Daemon, who was leaning back on a chair, fiddling with his fingers. "Uncle?" Jacaerys turning to Daemon. Rhaenyra looked at Daemon, "Viserys had passed." he said.

Lyssaera didn't know what to say. Jacaerys shocked, his features softening. They both stayed silent for a while, waiting for Daemon to say something. "Jacaerys, Lyssaera, do you both understand what’s about to happen?" Daemon asked. Both Lyssaera and Jacaerys are still silent, but they nodded. It is clear what's about to happen, but they didn't say anything further.

"Are we heading for King’s Landing then? Is that why everyone is rushing?" Jacaerys asked. Daemon shook his head and stood up, walking to stand beside his wife.

"No, Jace, we will not. It has been weeks since Viserys’ passing. They kept it, hid it from us." said Daemon. "And of the throne? Who sits upon it now? Who sits on it while we are here?" Lyssaera asked. "My brother, Aegon, is usurping the throne." Rhaenyra answered. Lyssaera sighed in disbelief.

"All of this, after the death of my sister. And now the greens take away your birthright from you? This is too much. They’ve taken too much from us." Lyssaera said, tears forming in her eyes. Lyssaera was taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She sat down, holding onto Jace’s hand to seek comfort.

The Greens. Oh, how she despises them. How much she curses them. How much she despises that colour. How much it angers her every time she remembers what they did to her. What he did to her.

They all looked at the door when a knight rushed in, bowing his head to Rhaenyra.

"Otto Hightower has arrived, at the bridge." Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra. "I shall go now," Daemon said. "We are coming with you." Jacaerys suggested. Daemon looked at Lyssaera, waiting for her. "As well as I. '' She said as the three of them were looking at Rhaenyra before heading out.

“I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” Otto Hightower stated. “I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the Princess?” He asked but only to find Daemon staring at him, unamused, with Lyssaera at Jacaerys standing behind him.

Syrax’s deafening roars above them were the way to announce Rhaenyra's presence. Her eyes widened upon seeing her mother wearing the late king’s crown. She felt proud. Syrax circled the bridge before settling down. Rhaenyra climbed down from Syrax, making her way beside Daemon. Seeing her mother, standing proud and tall with the late King’s crown on her head, she felt proud. The hues of the setting sun enhanced her features, and she thought that her mother was the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Princess Rhaenyra.” Otto Hightower started.

“I am Queen Rhaenyra now, and you all are traitors to the realm.” She spatted assertively as Syrax growled in the background.

“King Aegon Targaryen, the second of his name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Acknowledge Aegon as king and swore obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your first trueborn son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Your first born daughter Lyssaera, will be confirmed as the legitimate heir of Driftmark and all the lands and holdings of house Velaryon but is still in question. Your sons by Prince Daemon-” Otto was interrupted by Daemon.

“Who questions Princess Lyssaera's inheritance of Driftmark? Corlys Velaryon swore to us and clearly made my daughter his heir. Is it because she is a lady?” He asked as he grasped the grip of the Dark Sister. Otto did not say a thing to him. Lyssaera’s lips formed into a tight line. Daemon may not be her father, but he never failed to treat her as his own.

“Your sons by Prince Daemon, will also be given places of high honour at court. Aegon the Younger as the King’s squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King in his good grace will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.”

“I would rather feed my children to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups, for your drunken usurper cunt of a King.” Daemon stated. Making Otto Hightower sigh.

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror’s crown, wields the Conqueror’s sword, has the Conqueror’s name. He was anointed by a septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon, houses that have also received and are at present considering generous terms of the King.” said the wanky slender man before them.

“Stark, Tully, and Baratheon swore to me. My daughter, the Princess Lyssaera, betrothed to Royce Baratheon, Lord Baratheon’s only son, to secure their loyalty to me as their Queen, when King Viserys named me his heir.” Replied Rhaenyra.

“Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, princess. The succession changed when your father sired a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth of it.” Otto Hightower said. Rhaenyra walks towards him, removing the brooch on his coat and throws it to the sea.

“You are no more hand than Aegon is king. Fucking traitor.” Rhaenyra spatted. A tall silvered-hair man appeared behind the crowd of knights. Lyssaera’s eyes widened at the sight of him. Jacaerys clenched his jaw as he searched for his sister's hand, holding it. Lyssaera’s heart was pounding just as her knees felt weak at the sight of him.

“Careful sister. You could be killed for treason.” Aemond said as he walked towards Rhaenyra, all knights on guard. He looked at the people before him, observing them. He smirked when he saw Jacaerys, he looked at the woman beside him. There she is, ñuha gevives. Aemond said to himself.

‘There she is, my beauty’

A year had passed since the dining hall incident. But Aemond thinks that her beauty did not change at all despite the scar. Aemond scanned her face. Her godly eyes would make the devil himself repent once he sees it. Her plump pink lips that has been in his dreams for a while, scenes where he would imagine the same lips on his neck and lips. Her chocolate brown hair that compliments her complexion, her flushed peach cheeks. And the scar, still pink, runs across the left side of her face. Her face carved out by the gods and heavens, the same face that corrupts his mind.

“As for the Princess Lyssaera’s legitimacy to Driftmark, I am here to make the situation much easier.” Aemond said. He looked at Rhaenyra smirking, and he finally looked at his Lyssaera. He grinned as he terror was seen in her eyes, and found it funny as Jacaerys was staring intently at him.

“King Aegon promised her to me. She is to be my wife, se iksi naejot sagon wed isse se tradition hen īlva lentor.”. He announced.

‘and we are to be wed in the tradition of our house’

Lyssaera was trembling. She cannot stand the idea of being his wife, bare and mother his children. The thought of it makes her sick. She was about to speak but Jacaerys preceded her.

“That’s fucking nonsense! After what you did to her?! Lord Corlys and the Queen secured her position as heir of Driftmark years ago! And as she is betrothed to Lord Baratheon’s son!” Jacaerys exclaimed. His jaw was tense, his eyebrows knitted together, he was enraged.

“I did what I had to do nephew. My brother is the king and he said so himself. Do you really know who the House Baratheon sides with? Confident enough to betrothe your sister to some pathetic man for them to bend their knee? If you wish to secure your legitimacy and possession of Driftmark, you, Lyssaera Velaryon, will be wed to me. Let us both keep the Targaryen-Velaryon bloodline pure and strong”. Aemond grinned wickedly as he mocks them. He likes, no, loves, the look on their faces.

“I’d rather die than be your wife! You are vile!” said Lyssaera, eyes narrowing in disgust, but Aemond did not care about the words she said. He only thinks about the thought about him and Lyssaera being husband and wife. The ones who should be ruling the Seven Kingdoms. Treason or not, he absolutely does not care.

Once Aemond heard about Lyssaera’s betrothal to Royce Baratheon, madness and jealousy enveloped him. Did they not think about why he carved her face? The reason behind her scar? Having it his way, he convinced Aegon to wed Lyssaera to him. His brother being easy to fool, Aemond used their blood line as an excuse. He wants Lyssaera for himself. He’s going to have her, with or without anyone’s approval.

TAGS:

@hopebaker @maylaysia109 @azaleapotterblack @missusnora @auratiqs @spn-obsession @stillinracooncity

[yovrstruly00]

tainted faces

What if Lucerys Velaryon was born a girl? AND that Aemond Targaryen is head over heels for her instead!

tainted faces | part two

tainted faces | part three

tainted faces | part four

trigger warning: cursing, knives, injuries, Aegon smashing Lyssaera's head on the table, incest (uncle x niece),,

genre: angst?? idk, possible enemies to lovers,,

Lyssaera Velaryon, Aemond fumes at the sight of her. The one who slashed his face with a blade and took his eye. The one who made him look like this, the one who made him hideous to look at. How can someone so beautiful be the source of all his pain?

Aemond scans her carefully during supper, as she grins and smirks when a roasted pig is placed before him. He slams his fist on the table and takes his goblet, drawing the attention of everyone in the dining hall. He raises his goblet, starting a toast.

"A final tribute," he starts. "To the health of my nephews and niece, Jace, Lyssaera, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, beautiful, wise..." he pauses as he purses his lip.

"strong," he continued, mockery behind his voice.

"Aemond" the queen calls out to him.

"Come! Let us drain our cups to these three strong-" he said, but was cut off by Jacaerys.

"I dare you say that again." Jacaerys taunted.

"Why? It was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?" The whole table gasped when Jacaerys took his fist to Aemond's face. Lyssaera stood up, but Aegon crashed her head on the table, making Alicent shout at him.

"Enough!" Alicent shouts. Aemond chuckled as the guards restrained Jacaerys. "Why would you say such a thing in front of these people?" Alicent rushed to Aemond. "I was nearly expressing how proud I am of my family mother, but it seems my nephew and niece aren't quite as proud of theirs." Aemond said.

"You fucking cunt! Let go of me!" Lyssaera shouts at Aegon, who is still holding her down. Aegon scoffs and releases Lyssaera. Once Aegon released his hold on her, she slapped Aemond on the face.

"Lyssaera!" Daemon shouted, making his way to his stepdaughter. Lyssaera made a mistake looking back at him. Aemond took his blade from the knife holster attached to the belt on his waist as held her neck, choking her.

"Aemond let her go!" Alicent and Rhaenyra shouted. Aemond did not hesitate swiftly slicing Lyssaera's cheek, making her scream in pain. Aemond was pulled away by his grandfather, just as Lyssaera was caught by Daemon. Lyssaera's screams filled the whole dining hall. Blood was running down her neck, arms, and to her dress. Rhaenyra and Jacaerys rushed towards Lyssaera as she was crying in pain. The salt in her tears touched her sliced skin. Daemon stood in front of his family and Aemond.

"Painful isn't it? This seems all too familiar, don't you agree? Look at yourself, we are now both terrifying to look at. Scarred for a lifetime. No men or lords will wed you in that condition. No man will wed a woman like you, a woman with a hideous scar on her face." Aemond hissed, anger evident in his voice. He didn't care about the angry eyes on him. At the moment, all he cared about was her. The way she was looking at him. The hatred and pain in her eyes. Aemond looked at the sliced skin, the slice running from the upper point of her cheek to her upper lip, it was deep, deep enough to leave an ugly scar. A scar that will remind her of him.

That late in the night, Lyssaera's wails filled the Red Keep as well as Aemond's ears. He cringes as he recalls the night when Lyssaera took his eye. That night, while the maesters were stitching up his eye and skin, he cried out in agony. Guilt consumes him as he considers how he ruined her dangerously beautiful yet angelic face. A beauty for which any man would die for. A beauty for which any man would fight for. But Aemond is not simply a man, because men do not ride dragons. And with this, he would not let any low life man pursue his Lyssaera. He smirks at the thought that no man would wed her because of the scar he carved out on her face. A scar that will remind every living person that Lyssaera Velaryon was his and only his.

[yovrstruly00]

something to remember me by

Being Aemond’s wife is not easy. Apart from fulfilling his duties to the throne, he always his best to always put you first.

trigger warning: none

genre: fluff/angst

You’ve woken up from the sunlight shining on your face. You’ve reached for the other side of your bed, but your dear husband Aemond isn’t there. You sighed as you sat up on the bed. Grabbing on the poles of the bed to support your heavy, swollen belly. You fought with Aemond last night about how he has been neglecting his duties to you as a husband. He told you he’s been busy with his duties, which was the same reason he has been using for the past few weeks.

"You have been saying that for these past few weeks! Have you failed to notice that I have no one here? Being with a child is difficult without you, please do not make it worse. I walk through the halls alone, sit by the garden by myself, sleep by myself, and eat with your family. At this point, Helaena is the only one keeping me sane! Nyke daor gaomagon bisa!" You exclaimed. Looking up at your husband from the bed, you clutch your swollen belly.

'I can't do this!'

Aemond held your hand, the other was on your pregnant stomach. "My wife, I have no other choice. You know that I am only fulfilling my duties, if you think I can bear being away from you, you are wrong. It is I whom the Queen, my mother, trusts. You are well aware of this. A few more weeks, my dearest, and you must know that you are well aware of my regret." He searched for your eyes as he kneeled on the ground. You removed his hand from yours, "If you walk out of these quarters then it means you are not sorry, and that I am no priority of yours. Forget me, Aemond, who am I compared to the throne." Aemond looked at you, not saying a word. He stood up and kissed you on the cheek. He whispered a sorry in your ear as he walked out of your shared bedchamber. As you heard his footsteps sound weaker, you curled up and sobbed.

You heard a faint knock on the door, and your handmaidens entered the chambers. "We must get dressed, my princess, since it is almost noon and your brother, prince Jacaerys, will be paying you a visit." You looked at her with delight. She happily assisted you in getting in the tub as she tended to your hair while the other handmaiden was preparing your gown.

Spending the whole day with Jacaerys was enjoyable. It took your mind off some things. He told stories about his journeys, and he even gave you a journal to read his entries about his expenditures. But now it is night, which means supper with the family. You walked the halls, and you held your hands together as you entered the dining hall, sitting beside Helaena. You glanced at Aemond's chair, but he was absent, making your heart ache. You spent the whole dinner anticipating his arrival. "How's the pregnancy, dear princess?" the queen asked. You gave her a smile, and you reassured her that everything was well. She gave your hand a squeeze before she dismissed everyone after supper.

You returned to your chamber, where your handmaidens were waiting for you since it was already late. You went to the library after dinner to distract yourself from the ache you were experiencing. As you entered, you saw Aemond sitting near the fireplace. Still mad, you ignore his presence as you signal your handmaiden to tend to you. "Please leave us," you heard Aemond say. You gave your handmaidens a nod of approval. They left the room, but they left your nightgown on the bed. You stood awkwardly beside the bed as you waited for Aemond to say something. "Get in the bath, my wife, let me bathe you." He stood up from the chair, and you walked towards the bath tub. He went behind you, helping you undress, and he offered his hand as a support for you to be able to get in the tub. He poured a dash of body soap and grabbed the bath cloth as he ran it along your arms, chest, and up to your neck. His gentleness makes your heart ache.

"How are you, my sweet wife?" he asked. "I am quite alright, my prince," you replied. "I heard that nephew came to see you? How was it?" he asked again, wanting to keep the conversation going. "It was alright," you replied, keeping it short, so he sighed.

"I know I haven't been the doting husband you want me to be. I am aware that I have been neglecting you and that this has caused you pain. It was never my idea to leave you alone in the first place. Issa jorrelagon, Kostilius Shijetra Aha Valzrys," he pleaded as he looked at you.

'My love, please forgive your husband'

He held your hand as he pressed a kiss on it. Your eyes are tearing up as sadness and longing overtake you. "Oh issa dōna hāedar, issa dōna ābrazȳrys". He holds your cheek as he wipes your tears with his thumb. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, allowing you to cry on him.

'Oh my sweet girl, my sweet wife'

"Come now, my princess, I have something for you," Aemond said as he helped you get out of the tub. He wrapped a cloth around your body to dry you, he took your nightgown and dressed you. Sitting you down so you can drink some tea to alleviate your nausea. He knelt in front of you as he held your hands. He grabbed something from his coat and placed it on your palms. A sapphire necklace. You gave him a confused look.

"Do you what this piece of gem means? Love, loyalty, truth, and sincerity. It symbolizes what my intentions are. I hope this can be something you will remember me by every time I am away. But do not fret, my wife, I am done with my duties. Mother spoke to me about you and how she noticed how gloomy you have been. Now I am here to tend to you. Nyke kesīr issa dōna hedar," he said as he caressed your swollen stomach.

'I am here, my sweet girl'

"It matches your eye, my sweet husband," you both laughed, kissing him on the lips. You gave him the necklace so he could clasp it around your neck. He went behind you as you held your hair out of the way. You played with the stone on your chest as you smiled brightly at him.