#The View From Castle Rock

[justforbooks]

Reading some of these stories gives the feeling of wearing unfamiliar bifocals, needing to angle the head awkwardly so as to bring the fields of vision into alignment. Alice Munro starts with stories that are embroiderings of her family's history, then follows them with more personal pieces, where details are freely changed, but faith is kept with a core of memoir.

The historical background of the Laidlaws, Munro's forebears, is even more erratic in its alternation of fullness and blanks than might be expected. Writer James Hogg was a relative, so that when James Laidlaw, having emigrated from Scotland to Canada with several of his grown children, wrote to one who had stayed behind, the letter was printed in full in Blackwood's Magazine, to the great annoyance of the man who wrote it. A number of relatives kept journals and, late in life, Munro's father, Rob, wrote not only fragments of memoir but a novel.

The past needs interpreting even when it is documented. What Spartan arrangement, exactly, was Rob Laidlaw referring to so drily with the sentence: 'We never washed any dishes and had a new plate every meal?' They didn't have as much as a table.

'When you write about real people,' Munro remarks, 'you are always up against contradictions.' I'm not sure that's the problem: fiction thrives on contradictions. Life, though, is amateurish in its shaping. More fates fizzle than explode. People make false starts and die arbitrary deaths. Munro's filling of the gaps is lovely in itself, but keeps bumping up against the implacability of the record.

Her psychology is rich even when the lives described are bare. The severity of conditions in Canada was a good fit with the religious expectations of the immigrants. As Munro puts it, they 'constructed a life for themselves that was monastic without any visitations of grace or moments of transcendence'. Four sisters can live in a house without a mirror between them (their brothers have one for shaving), relying on each other to confirm that they're adequately turned out.

In one passage, Munro refers to the 'glacial geography' of Canada and the existence of maps that show how the Ice Ages shaped the landscape. She is undertaking something similar on the level of culture, charting the remains and the permanent scouring effects of the retreating glacier known as Presbyterianism.

The stories in the second half of The View From Castle Rock revolve around a version of Munro herself. She has freely altered other characters, who joined the Salvation Army or 'revealed that they had once lived in Chicago. One of them got himself electrocuted and another fired off a gun in a barn full of horses'. The benefit of this constrained freedom is clear from the first such story, 'Fathers'. Munro has never been afraid to tamper with the formula of the well-made. Here, she interrupts what seems an urgent narrative, about a girl raging against her violent father, with a much more low-key reminiscence of having supper with the parents of a school acquaintance. The real story is the beginnings of Munro's character as a writer, in her search for the common element in the relationships she sees and the one she experiences with her father.

The pattern recurs in 'The Ticket': 'I had three marriages to study, up close, in this early part of my life.' Her parents weren't well matched but made a go of things as a couple and in a business in the hard days after the war, when the mother became an effective saleswoman for silver fox scarfs and capes made from animals that the father bred. Then her health broke down with Parkinson's disease.

Munro's paternal grandparents were a more complicated case, her grandmother being an Anglican tomboy who turned herself into a silent farmer's Presbyterian housewife, with a thoroughness not really borne of conviction: 'Not to have anybody say that she regretted a decision that she had made, or wanted anything that she couldn't have.'

The anomalies were Munro's Great Aunt Charlie and Uncle Leo. Everyone could see they were 'fond of each other'. 'I believe now,' Munro writes, 'that there was harmony, a flow of satisfaction between them, brightening the air around so that even a self-centred child could be aware of it.'

Not everybody agrees with Philip Roth that a family is doomed when a writer is born into it, but even without a conscious settling of accounts, family members can be lacerated by the passing of a powerful pen. It's not that Munro's judgments are harsh - they're not - and her verdict on her younger self is far from indulgent. But the rules of engagement with reality seem to change from story to story.

In one, when she accompanies her father to hospital and is asked his age, she answers: '52', missing the mark by two decades. What she has given is 'the age of a man I am in love with'. There are no further details given, but the artificially offhand phrase has an odd resonance. 'A' man, not 'the' man? It is as if she is reserving the right to be in love with others, at the same time or another. In the stories nearer the present, she has a husband, who isn't described or named, though a flow of satisfaction is implied.

These are minor distractions of focus, but there is a shock for the reader in the story 'Home'. A stepmother called Irlma, owner of a flatulent old dog, a stout and hilarious person with a confrontational side, which is put down to Irish ancestry and having been born on a train.

A stepmother! You've been keeping that awfully quiet. Again, it's not that the rendering of the relationship is anything but exquisite, particularly the thought that her father seems a little strained in the company of his daughter and second wife, 'as if it took some energy explaining and defending us, one to the other'. And perhaps the character has been transformed or made up out of whole cloth. It seems most likely, though, that death has closed one mouth and made possible the unsealing of another.

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[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: arranged to be wed to prince aegon ii by oppressive parentage, you are bewildered to learn that he seems just as nervous as you, and that this union isn’t as hopeless as it seems.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.5K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), aegon isn’t a good person but he’s also tormented, canon-typical misogyny, arranged marriage, loss of virginity (reader), pathetic aegon, switch!aegon (mild sub!aegon) begging, dry humping/grinding, making out, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, descriptions of cum, multiple positions (lotus, cowgirl), sweeter ending + aftercare.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: writing for aegon is such a challenge for me because I’m scared of getting him right, so I hope this is good! I also apologize for the fic length, I wasn’t expecting it to be this long! thank you all so much for any support this gets! ❤️ much love!

IT WAS OFTEN THE REASON FOR EXISTING, A YOUNG LADY OF A NOBLE HOUSE — MADE TO WED A FOREIGN LORD, SHIPPED AWAY TO UNFAMILIAR LANDS AND PROVIDE HEIRS. IT WAS YOUR SUPPOSED PURPOSE, IMPRESSED UPON YOU FROM YOUR FLOWERING ADOLESCENCE TO ADULTHOOD.

Only, you were to become a queen, with time.

House Tyrell was the presiding power of The Reach, a font of wealth and lavishness for the Seven Kingdoms, with Highgarden as its primary seat — a castle that bested Casterly Rock in stature and beauty.

Forging alliances often came through lucrative marriage proposals, and you were bound to one, inevitably made to wed Aegon II Targaryen, the supposed heir to the Iron Throne.

Whispers of men who had seen too many winters spoke of Aegon’s ascension over that of Princess Rhaenyra, men who never saw a woman as anything more than a prize to be won. It filled you with such dread, wondering if Aegon would view you in the same light — a conquest.

King’s Landing was a pungent place, with a populace crammed into walls that cared little for them. It made you yearn for Highgarden, for the loamy trees bristling with ivory blossoms, for the air that carried the scent of a perfumed dowager.

Stench of city sewage filled your nostrils as your noble carriage buckled across uneven streets, the cobblestone shoddy compared to that of Oldtown. Your parents accompanied you, with little comfort to offer other than threadbare reassurances.

Rumors reached your ears of Prince Aegon’s lecherous nature — a spoiled man who preferred drowning in his cups and whoremongering through the Streets of Silk. You feared what new existence this wedding might yield for you, what fate awaited you after tomorrow.

Yet, they were rumors — you continued to offer yourself some words of encouragement, in hopes that your expectations of the Targaryen Prince would not be shattered upon first meeting.

The Red Keep glowered above you, its shadow oppressive and not at all welcoming as you hoped it would be. Instead, its pointed pillars and garish walls served as a reminder that this would be your home — no more ivory stones of Highgarden.

A wave of nausea overcame you, rocking through your stomach like the turbulence of crashing tides, settling uneasily within your bones. The corset you wore made it difficult to fully catch your breath, constricting you like a vice.

If House Tyrell were known for anything, it was their beauty, their lavishness — and you were no exception; the pretty rose, unwilted and comely. Your appearance was akin to a whimsical fable, known by all who had taken an interest in your family.

As your host circled into the courtyard of the Red Keep, you glimpsed a row of Targaryen bannermen intermingled with that of House Hightower. An older man stood at the top of the steps, accompanied by one of the Kingsguard.

“Do not slouch, or pout,” Your mother warned, leaning over to fix a facet of your gown, brows furrowed together. “It is unbecoming of a princess to-be.” Her utterance could cut as sharp as any blade.

“Of course, Mother.” With a courteous reply, you nearly cringed when the carriage came to a sluggish halt, as your parents made their exit first, with you soon to follow.

It was a relief to find a sliver of fresh air, no longer suffocating to an early grave within your carriage. You stood up straight, unnaturally so, rigid in your stance as you accompanied your host to meet the stalwart figure of Otto Hightower.

“King Viserys extends his welcome,” Otto uttered, countenance a calculating one. His gray eyes drifted to you, and you seemed to shrink, withering away beneath his glower. “As does House Hightower.”

“I assume the final preparations are underway?” Your father quipped, desperate to get this over with. The peacocking and ceremony of a royal wedding was often a headache, and the expenses were vast and never-ending.

“They are,” Lord Hightower gestured for you all to follow, the gates creaking open to herald your host into the Red Keep. “They will be wed on the morrow. Your chambers are prepared for your stay.”

“Excellent. I detest these lengthy walks,” Your mother groaned, and still, you said nothing. “I desire an audience with the Queen, should she make herself available.”

It all became rather dull — a background buzz that promptly simmered into nothingness for you. Talk of weddings, political affairs, the frivolity of it all — you wanted this to be done. Fear and anxiousness drove you now, fretting over whether or not the Prince would like you.

Once, you had dreamed of your wedding, of finding one you loved and basking in the warmth of it all. Here, you felt cold and stiff, yielding to the desires and machinations of others, prepared to be sold off like some prized broodmare.

Instead, you silently admired the architectural wonder of the Red Keep, the scaling walls and massive, winding staircases. It became easier to avert your attention elsewhere, to keep your mind preoccupied.

Ascending the staircase, you gathered your skirts in fistfuls, taking careful steps up behind your parents. The conversation at-hand held nothing of merit for you, and there was not a single murmur in regards to Prince Aegon.

Perhaps he feared this just as much as you did, forced into a union with a stranger to appease the powers that reigned. You wanted to meet him, assure that, with time, you could grow to love one another and achieve happiness.

Perhaps, he cared very little for it.

Aegon was crushed beneath the weight of being made to obey the whims of family for some time — his mother, his grandsire. His own father did not falter from naming Rhaenyra as heir to the Iron Throne, a choice that embittered some.

In the eyes of his father, he would never measure to the beacon of light that was his half-sister. Aegon the failure, Aegon the foolish. Any desire for the Iron Throne died long ago in his youth, along with any aspirations for going above his station.

Upon being told that he would wed the young lady of House Tyrell, he did not rage and bark at those who had a hand in it. It was easier to quietly accept his fate, to play the part of a dutiful son — perhaps then, he would finally be viewed as favorable in the eyes of those that pulled him apart.

His whoremongering and rampant salaciousness were immediately put to the executioner’s block, with Otto berating him for his blatant recklessness. Aegon had learned to take whatever verbal punishment was hurled at him — stand and take it, wet tears glistening within his lilac hues.

That and his drinking were no longer permitted, and so Aegon took to reluctant isolation. He could only imagine what vile things you’d been told about him — the lecherous, drunkard Targaryen with nothing but a title to his name.

Yet, when he saw you in the courtyard of the Red Keep from the ramparts, riding the coattails of your oppressive parents, a sliver of him could empathize. He did not want to like you, of course, but he did have a beating heart, even still.

Your posture bore a semblance of desperation, clawing your way toward the approval of your forebears, desiring nothing more than to appease. Aegon knew what that was like — he’d been trying to do it all his life.

“Be satisfied that she is a beautiful creature, brother,” Aemond uttered, arms folded behind his back as he stood beside Aegon, one eye glowering down upon you from afar. “This could be much worse.”

Aegon scoffed, his smile mirthless and anguished as he stood upright, a wisp of a breeze stirring his pale tresses. “As everyone ceaselessly continues to remind me.” He retorted, one hand clenching into a fist.

Aemond hummed, clicking his tongue as he turned toward Aegon, pale brows furrowing together. “This was inevitable, as is your duty to our house,” He uttered, reminding his brother of his purpose. “I suggest making the most of it, instead of resorting to self-pity.”

There was always a lack of propriety with Aegon — a lack of determination, no drive to become anything more than a gluttonous Prince. Aemond studied the sword, the histories, language, politics — and yet he was never yielded an opportunity such as this.

Aegon’s countenance was one of clear disdain, finding little joy in his brother’s aloof scolding. “You sound like Mother,” With an embittered tone, he ran a palm across his face, looking down at you again. “House fucking Tyrell.”

Clearly, this was all his grandsire’s work — there could be no other mastermind behind such an advantageous alliance. His mother would always go along with such ideas, forever beneath his thumb — trapped in her cage, much like he was.

Yet, Aemond did have something of a point.

At the very least, Aegon could learn to tolerate your presence — and you were incredibly beautiful, even from afar. Whispers of your splendor had reached him at the initiation of your betrothal. Attractive company would not be the end of the world, but he wondered if you were airheaded and self-centered.

It was something he would have to discover for himself, much to his own misfortune.

You terrified him.

Aegon spent much of his evening gathering gossip and information about you — your supposed mannerisms, the topics you conversed about, your demeanor. All servants seemed to come to the same crossroads — you were truly pious, and kindhearted.

The sudden desire to appear likable and gallant was thrust to the forefront of his mind, the need for validation born from deeply-rooted insecurities. For so much of his life, he had toiled over wanting everyone to gravitate towards him, to find him captivating as they had Rhaenyra.

He detested having to put up some performance in the name of appealing to you, but he could not stop himself, now. Aegon knew that seeking you out before your wedding was untoward and improper, but he needed to speak to you himself.

It pained him to realize that he cared for the perspective of a stranger — for the opinions of a woman whom he hadn’t yet uttered a word to.

There was a rotten weight upon his shoulders, the weight of satisfying his family, to no longer be looked upon with disdain. The notion that he was the disappointment had always danced around him, and now, it was staring him down.

On the morrow, he would be wed — a husband, perhaps a father, if you even permitted him to touch you. Seven Hells, he was going to wretch.

A bottle of Dornish Red had been carefully stashed away beneath a loose cobblestone in his chambers, and he intended on drowning in it somewhere in the gardens. The hour was becoming late — now the hour of the bat, a listless dusk shrouded by gray wisps of cloud.

Aegon’s mind was plagued by thoughts of you, of disappointing you, knowing that you were just as shackled to this union of convenience as he was. Had he not drawn attention to himself through debauchery, this might’ve never happened.

Truthfully, he had no one to blame but himself.

Beneath the floral canopies of the royal gardens, Aegon snuck away from his chambers, preferring to drink in solace whilst the opportunity presented itself. Stars glistened above, thousands of twinkling lights that accompanied the silver glower of the moon.

Clad in a loose, sage tunic and linen breeches, he wandered through the gardens, bottle in-hand, countenance one of despondency. There was a small terrace where he often went to drown in the depths of a bottle, rage to the skies.

A loose shape remained seated along the bannister, head hung in a state of despair — the image of such grace, the maiden herself.

Aegon hadn’t expected to find you here, dwelling within his typical nook, brows drawn together as you picked at the skin of your cuticles. His clumsy footfalls alerted you, bewildered hues meeting those of lilac, just as confused as you were.

“My Prince,” A strangled gasp erupted from your throat as you hastily stood, curtsying as if your head would fall from your shoulders from sluggishness. “I — I was not expecting you. I will relocate.”

The envy of a thousand stars, Aegon thought; beauty incarnate stood before him with such humility that it very nearly subdued him. He was not often reduced to such boyish nerves in the presence of women, but you seemed to do just that.

Acclaimed was your charm, a comeliness so enchanting that many were ensnared, and he was no exception to this. Aegon felt a cold perspiration slither along his palms, grip becoming tighter around the bottle’s throat.

“You cannot find rest either,” Aegon’s jaw tensed as he pointed out the obvious, pale tresses tousled, turned white from the moon. “I was just …” A begrudging sigh escaped him as he held the bottle of wine aloft.

“May I join you?” Your inquiry was sudden and unexpected — Aegon nearly turned you away until he saw the anxious state you were in, much like himself.

Aegon gaped, lips parting as he gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders. He stepped forward, sinking down atop one of the stone benches lining the bannister walls. Wordlessly, you approached him, taking a seat at his side, ensuring a comfortable distance.

Upon closer inspection, you were pleased to find that Aegon was handsome — ethereal, in fact. Many Targaryens were renowned for their physical beauty, from pale tresses to violet hues, and he was no exception to this.

“Do you drink because of me?”

The question was born of fear, of a gnawing nervousness that ate away at your very bones. You worried that Aegon was already resentful without knowing you fully, but even he seemed perplexed by your inquiry.

“Not because of you,” Aegon uttered, removing the cork from the bottle before taking a swig, sweet red trickling down his throat. “I suppose this is not an ideal position to be in — for either of us.”

Your hands stilled within your lap as you considered his words, and you did agree. It was not ideal, nor was it something either of you desired. “It is not, but that does not mean that it must be miserable. I have no ill will towards you.”

Aegon scoffed, his mirthless smile striking you as the inner turmoil of a young man coming to terms with his new reality. You did not begrudge him so — it was easy to empathize, given that you were in the same situation.

“You may change your mind,” He uttered, taking another hearty gulp of Dornish Red, allowing it to ease some of his own nerves. “I would not fault you for it.” Aegon stated, twisting one of his rings around upon his finger.

Being a poor husband was something he’d witnessed between his own family — his Mother, far too young to be wed to an old man, and his father, now withered and decrepit. Maybe there was love, but he seldom saw it.

Brazenly, you reached for the bottle of wine, and he relinquished it, watching with surprise as you took a rather daring swig. It was sweet yet strong, causing you to sputter before you gave it back.

“And if I do not change my mind? Are you insinuating that you will change it for me?” Your questioning was growing sharp, tinged with frustration. You did not want to dislike him — you wanted him to give you no reason to feel that way.

Lilac hues shifted toward you, ivory brows knitting together as he drank again. He wondered what all you knew of him — the rumors, the whispers of his frequent whoring. “Is your mind not already set firm on such thoughts?”

With a look of concern, you shook your head, fingers idly plucking at your sleeves. “It is not,” You murmured, head canting to one side. “I cannot judge you without a foundation — I do not know you, my Prince.”

Aegon was rather bewildered at your confession, but part of him did not believe you. It was commonplace to be plagued by rumors of one’s betrothed — perhaps you neglected to tell the truth to spare his feelings.

“There is little to know.” Aegon sold himself short, greedily consuming yet another barrage of sips from the wine. He knew he needed to slow down — it was dulling his senses.

“Must you discredit yourself so quickly? I would disagree — there is plenty to know, and I wish to discover it all for myself.” With a firm retort, you sat up a little straighter, remembering the quipped words of your mother.

He despised how likable you truly were — if he loathed you, it would make it easier on himself, in this union. Aegon did not wish to spend each waking moment clawing for your affections, knowing it would only end in disappointment.

Silence drifted between the two of you, until the only sound was that of the wind, the rustling of vines and flora along the lattice canopies. Aegon drank another few swigs — it was not in his best interest.

His insecurities were palpable upon your tongue, you realized — there were more layers to Aegon than he was willing to let on. You noticed the wet sheen within his violet hues, a forlornly sense of anguish that washed over him.

You wanted him to try to be happy.

If he were so determined in making himself miserable, you knew that it would inevitably take you with him. A soft sigh escaped your parted lips as you pressed your palm against his bicep.

“I am not asking for you to be delighted and joyous, but I do … I want you to be somewhat happy. I wish for us to try and make one another happy,” Your suggestion was something Aegon was willing to consider. “Will you consider it?”

Aegon hesitated, feeling the first inklings of frustration paint his features, eyes wet with the onslaught of tears. He always thought himself unlovable — his family detested him, thought him to be insignificant.

There was nothing stopping you from following in their sentiments — and if you did, he would not blame you for it. Gods, he loathed himself — wallowing in misery, begging for a reprieve.

If anyone could grow to love him, it would be you — you, this beautiful, tenderhearted stranger who captivated him so. Aegon did not want to squander such an opportunity to find a potential solace in the one person who wished the same from him.

Instead, he nodded, placing the bottle of Dornish Red off to the side, knowing that if he indulged himself further, it would be disastrous. “I will try.” Aegon uttered, head hung as he rested his elbows against his thighs.

“Thank you, my Prince.” Without hesitation, you leaned over, pressing a chaste kiss against the side of his head. Aegon felt his breath hitch within his throat, preening at such a small gesture of affection — he could feel it in his marrow.

A surging buzz bristled throughout his body, the heady sting of intoxicants finding residence within his bones. His mind became somewhat clouded, plagued by both drink and a whirlwind of endless thoughts.

Gathering your gown in delicate fistfuls, you politely stood from the bench, exhaustion seeping into your being. “I should be returning to my chambers, before I am discovered,” You cleared your throat. “Unless there is anything else, your Grace.”

“Aegon,” His insistence bled through, a clammy perspiration breaking out along his palms. Turning his chin upward to face you, Aegon felt his heart seize within his chest, an unfamiliar fire blooming throughout. “We can abandon the formalities.”

Lilac hues set within pale flesh seemed to be glistening with tears; tears that you could not fully comprehend. Grayish circles encapsulated his eyes, making him appear a touch gaunt.

Aegon leaned back against the bannister, sage tunic taut against his musculature, which happened to lack sinewy definition. He was not nearly as whiplike as Aemond, revealing his streak of overindulgence with wine.

With all of his flaws bubbling to the surface, he observed you in rapt silence, noticing the semblance of appreciation that crossed your features. Your quiet admiration lacked subtlety, and Aegon nearly blushed beneath your warm gaze.

“Aegon,” His name rolled from your pretty tongue, such a saccharine utterance — you spoke his name with such a beguiling tone. “The name suits you.” The weight of your compliment was one that he clung to; desperately.

Histories often regaled the name Aegon — Aegon the Conqueror, whose reign began that of the Targaryen dynasty in Westeros. To have a name with such bearing, one would be destined for greatness.

Aegon did not think so — given the Conqueror’s name, his blade, his coat of arms — but nothing more. His father detested him so, and no matter what he did, there was no outpouring of love or appreciation.

He disliked how easy it was to let his barriers dissolve beneath your comforting gaze — vulnerability laid bare, allowing you to trace his heart with your fingers. “You jest.” Aegon uttered, earning a look of confusion from you.

Aemond was the stoic one, unyielding and stalwart with a piercing eye and indifferent scowl, and Aegon occasionally wore his soul upon his sleeve. It was involuntary, done in moments of weakness, and he wished that he could be as unchanging as his brother.

“What is there to jest about?” Perplexed, you idly gathered a fistful of your skirts, relinquishing some of your nervousness. “If we are to become husband and wife, I would like for us to know one another — to compliment, to appreciate.”

Saintly — Gods, you were vexing, to say the least.

With a sardonic huff, Aegon settled, abandoning the brief aura of indifference for something more sincere. You were genuine, he knew this — did he not owe you the same sentiment?

He stayed silent, swallowing the sudden lump within his throat before appraising you, Dornish Red beginning to muddy his senses. Aegon did not stop what lascivious thoughts escaped his mouth, then and there.

“You are every bit as beautiful as they say,” Aegon uttered, pale brows furrowing together. “I suppose if I am to wed a stranger, let it be an enchanting one.” His lips quirked into the ghost of a smile as he took yet another swig — the bottle was nearly empty.

Warmth danced along your spine, like a crackle of heat that blossomed across your body in fiery tendrils. Fidgeting, you happened to peer toward the bottle of wine. “You flatter me, Aegon,” You cleared your throat. “Is that wise?”

His derisive snort was a bemused one as he held the bottle aloft, dismissing your concern. “I promised myself that this would be my last night of overindulgence,” Aegon sighed. “No matter the consequences.”

If his Mother or grandsire knew of his drinking, particularly in front of his betrothed, he would likely be scolded for such foolish behavior. Perhaps he would regret it later, but you did not seem to admonish him for it.

“Are you certain that you will be well enough to return to your quarters?” Concern permeated your soft tone as you stood near the archway of the terrace, head canting to one side.

“Do not trouble yourself, betrothed. I have spent many nights in this garden, alone.” Aegon sounded sullen, as if it weren’t his design. Sometimes, drinking and isolating were the only things that numbed whatever else he felt.

Tears swam within his eyes — his anguish and turmoil often reared its ugly head when he had too much to drink. It was easier to commiserate over his life, his obstacles in solitude.

He loathed sobbing — it made him feel weak and insignificant, as if he could not keep himself pieced together. Aegon watched you closely, realizing that your countenance held nothing but a tender concern and twinge of affection.

No pity, no rage, no spite.

“Of course,” You exhaled, assuming that you should leave him to his own devices. “I should be returning. I … I do look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Aegon. I pray to the Seven that our union will be a fruitful one.”

Before you could step away, Aegon called out to you, beseeching you to wait as he stumbled to his feet, gripping the bottle like a vice. He didn’t know what to say — his mind swam, shrouded in a thick haze of bottled emotion and intoxication.

“Do you think that you could grow to love me, with time?”

Aegon’s fragmented inquiry brought a sharp and sudden sting to your heart, as if he believed himself incapable of being loved. His lilac hues reflected an untold battlefield of turbulent feelings that had been buried and smothered for such a long time.

If you were being truthful with yourself, you could see love forming with time — it would be long and arduous, but it was in your mind’s eye. Had you not experienced this chance encounter, you might’ve felt otherwise.

“I do,” A smile like rays of sunshine, parting the lingering dark that had shadowed his heart. Your answer came to him like the hum of springtime, softly-spoken. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

He let himself sob to the stars, to any Gods that would listen once you were out of sight.

When you saw Aegon again, it was beneath glistening pools of colored glass, perched atop a rather unimpressive terrace in the Grand Sept. He appeared every bit as gallant as you imagined him to be, cloaked in a cowl of velvety-emerald, embossed in threads of burnished gold.

He had such a disheveled, uncouth look about him in the Gardens — now, he seemed renewed. His pale tresses shimmering with a silvery sheen, cleansed and steeped in oils, countenance less haggard, lilac hues seeking yours.

The audience that had gathered to witness your union was much larger than you expected, many of them lesser nobility of King’s Landing flocking to see the new bride of Prince Aegon II.

You were the very image of perfection last evening, in the Gardens — shrouded in hues of cerulean and gold, bearing rose-patterned embellishments upon your gown. Now, you appeared as a goddess, wedding gown the color of liquid gold, touched by rays of a waning sun.

Aegon had taken your words into consideration — he did not want to make this miserable for you, or for himself.

A threadbare smile crossed his countenance, thin yet genuine as he gazed upon you, rapturously drinking in your appearance. Beauty might’ve been your true identity, a most gorgeous creature, sculpted by merciful gods.

As you assumed your place by his side, Aegon noticed the anxious smile that had graced your features. You seemed a touch nervous, but did not allow the sentiment to overshadow this moment.

His hand found yours, giving it a brief squeeze as the Septon prepared the vows of marriage. A union between House Tyrell and House Targaryen spelled great things, in the eyes of powerful men who operated from the shadows.

House Tyrell had sworn bountiful supplies of food and some of the finest armor in Westeros, whilst House Targaryen offered builders, riches — a chance for you to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Emerald velvet enveloped you, bearing the draconic sigil of House Targaryen. Aegon was disarmingly gentle, fastening the gilded clasps around you. As much as he wanted to stave off his own nerves, it was incredibly difficult for him to do so.

The ceremony, in the sight of Gods and Men, floated by swifter than you expected it to. Once you and Aegon had exchanged vows, hands bound together in crimson ribbon, it was his turn to end the formalities.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

Aegon felt heat ripple throughout his chest at such words, heart hammering against his ribcage as he searched your eyes for any ounce of uncertainty. When he found none at all, his palm moved to cradle your cheek, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

The taste of your mouth was honeyed, ambrosial as it made his head turn. He was bewildered to find your gentle reciprocation, the kiss being returned, even if it were fleeting. Aegon did not register the applause that came afterwards, drowning within your presence.

As you withdrew, Aegon appeared akin to a doe caught within the hunter’s snare, wide-eyed and clawing for composure. You seemed genuinely pleased, offering him a fleeting smile that made his heart leap out of his chest.

The transition into the wedding feast was seamless, and fortunately, it was easier to become lost within the general splendor of it all. Much of it was spent gorging yourself on such a lavish meal, and some of it spent speaking to your new husband.

You sat beside Aegon, King Viserys and Queen Alicent to his side, and your own parents on yours. The ailing King did not seem at all well enough to be in attendance, yet he endured it anyway, hunched over within his chair.

Admittedly, Aegon was somewhat nervous — and that wasn’t commonplace.

He feared inadequacy when it came to intimacy and consummating your union, an inability to satisfy you. Most of his exploits were spent in brothels, and of those trysts, he consumed too much wine to be considered useful to anyone.

It was all so self-centered when he lay with whores in the brothel, and even then, he could not remember most encounters. Expected to perform in a marriage and to a woman as lovely as you filled him with an unexpected dread.

Without consuming a drop this evening, he wondered how he would fare with a sound mind and body — poorly, he imagined. He knew of pleasure, of what it all entailed, but then came pleasing you. What if you hated it? Hated him?

The more he contemplated, the more frustrated he became, and in-turn, made him itch for something to calm his nerves. It was then that he felt your hand against his forearm, gentle and comforting, a smile upon your face.

“Would you like to dance?” A talented dancer you were, but without a partner, your skills seemed all for naught. Aegon’s pause made you wonder if your question was misplaced, but he steeled himself and nodded.

“I fear you’ve chosen a poor partner,” Aegon murmured, hovering beside you as the both of you took to the floor. Waves of people parted like the sea to usher in the newlyweds, and the new princess. “I am not fleet of foot.”

“You do not have to be.” You assured, the melody transforming into a slow ballad, allowing for a more intimate dance. With bound hands and his arm around your waist, he began to move, albeit with uncertainty.

As he twirled you around across the floor, the idle hum of the festivities swirled around you. You paid little mind to it, searching Aegon’s countenance for any sign of disdain. Instead, you found a hint of anxiousness in his lilac hues.

There was something that gnawed away at his heart — you could tell through gaze alone. As you danced, Aegon kept his stare locked on you, something to focus on. “You look beautiful.” That much was true.

Fortunate to have a bride as resplendent as yourself, Aegon marveled at the sight of you, the very image of beauty. Your comely visage seemed so perfect when compared to your wedding gown, his cloak still tied around your shoulders.

Touched by his softspoken praise, you bowed your head, nimbly weaving closer to him as a dancing couple passed by. Aegon was noticeably stiff in his movements, swallowing his nervousness, attempting to appear unphased.

“You seem tense,” Your voice was little more than a whisper, ensnaring his attention. His gaze flickered between the hum of the audience in-attendance and you, mustering up a threadbare smile. “Are you well?”

The genuineness of your inquiry could not be mistaken, and Aegon seemed bewildered that anyone would truly ask about his wellbeing. “I am,” He reassured, chest-to-chest with you. “This all seems rather frivolous.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t the root of the matter, but he wanted to placate you. Aegon bit his tongue from confessing the truth, a truth that he did not want to utter here, with wandering ears.

“The festivities? I would agree,” You replied, knowing that the expenses of such an event were rather much. “I am only here for you.” Aegon happened to smile at that, one far more genuine than the last.

Before he could speak, he noticed his Mother escorting the King towards the floor, whose gait was strained and incredibly sluggish. He leaned upon his cane, wheezing with every step, coming to a halt in front of the both of you.

“King Viserys wishes to extend his blessing to the both of you, and hopes for a happy union.” Alicent seemed a world away, treating you to a smile that was devoid of joy, merely a courtesy. “We must take our leave.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I hope to be a good wife to Prince Aegon.” You would never forget your manners, curtsying before the both of them. Alicent made no comment, simply bowing her head before guiding Viserys away.

Aegon appeared somewhat downtrodden with the leaving of his parents, and not entirely surprised. He seemed to quietly accept their leave, thanking his parents before they made their way through the now-parted crowds. Criston Cole nipped at their heels, following closely behind the King and Queen.

It was as if the buzz of excitement began to dissipate with the absence of the King, but you did not seem to be bothered by it. You wanted to make the most of it with Aegon.

With the absence of the King and Queen, the celebration seemed to dim — not that Aegon cared. He was more inclined to retire and get the consummation over with, as to not make a complete fool of himself.

Nervousness gnawed at his gut, and that irritated him. He shouldn’t have been so high strung about something so trivial. The physical aspect of marriage was often to perform a duty, and not anything more enjoyable than that.

Yet, Aegon found himself wanting to ascend duty.

Seven Hells, he was in for a long evening. His constant agonizing over how to approach this with you was going to eat him alive. It continued to fester within his bones throughout the duration of the night, up until you made it to your marital chambers.

Your shared quarters were beautiful — gilded in gold, draped in tapestries of emerald. They were far more grandeur and spacious than your own room back in Highgarden.

“If there is something not to your liking, I shall have the servants alter it.” Aegon murmured, attempting to quell his nerves. He could not recall the last time he had been so frayed, so fraught with anxiousness.

There was no wine to dull his senses, and so he was left with the rawness of his own sentiments, opting to sit beside the hearth.

The scenery was not nearly as perplexing as your new husband, who seemed more focused on gazing into the fire instead of consummating your union. You were told that it was duty — for a man to put a babe in you and be finished.

“Aegon,” Concerned, you rounded the chaise lounge, moving to sit beside him. Admittedly, this whole scenario seemed to confuse you more than anything else. “Is something the matter?”

Gods help him — Aegon did not know where to begin. It was best to tell you of his past experiences, inform you that his virtue was tarnished, that he was deplorable, and admit that lying with you would wrack him with immense guilt.

Perhaps, it was best to confess that he was nervous, more than you, and elect not to consummate at all. If his Mother or Grandsire found out about his lack of performance, he would be forced into putting a babe in you.

A bitter laugh escaped him as he attempted to control his sudden bout of frustration. “I cannot do this,” He murmured, shaking his head back and forth. “You don’t deserve this.”

With furrowed brows, you sought elaboration, hands twisting themselves together to relinquish your anxiousness. “Don’t deserve what? I do not understand.” You uttered, fearing that it was you who had slighted him.

“I have committed countless sins — it isn’t fair to you, to consummate when I have already tarnished myself so deeply,” Aegon sighed, pressing a hand to his face. “Yet duty demands that I must.”

There was a palpable nervousness within his voice, and it seemed to mirror your own. You feared disappointing him, but his sentiments were shared, much to your bewilderment. “I do not care what you did before this,” You replied. “We are married now. What matters is the path we take from now on.”

Damn you — so virtuous, so saintly that it made him look like some uncouth fiend compared to you. Of course you would be understanding, as you had been all along. Aegon hoped that you would be angry; it would make this so much easier.

It was a valiant attempt to mask his own nerves, which became glaringly obvious as moments ticked by. “I am nervous, admittedly, but … I know that I simply lay down and let you finish.”

Aegon’s brows creased together, and he realized that you did not expect much from him at all. You didn’t know what it all could entail, the art of pleasure. He never bothered to fully explore it himself, with his whoremongering and blatant self-interest.

Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, he attempted to set his worries aside, hands fisting at his trousers to relieve his nerves. “That is not what it has to be,” He murmured, glancing at you with wide, lilac hues. “Unless you want it that way.”

Intrigued, you seemed desperate to know what all the physical side of a marriage entailed. Aegon seemed anxious, but he wanted to try and treat you well, explore a new realm of pleasure together.

Silently, you reached for his hand, prompting him to shiver at the contact of your soft flesh and warm digits. “I do not.” Your gentle utterance set his heart ablaze, stomach swirling with a foreign giddiness as he regained his composure.

Aegon exhaled, mauve hues wandering towards the delicate curve of your mouth, the slender plane of your throat. He let himself become lascivious with his thoughts — Gods, you were so beautiful that it nearly pained him to look at you.

“You are too good for me,” Aegon mumbled, his self-deprecation laid bare for you to witness. He seemed so solemn in his words — and you did not believe him. “I do not deserve you.” Before he could speak again, you silenced him.

With your fingers pressed firmly to his mouth, brows furrowed together, you ensured that he listened to you without interruption. “Stop,” You urged, shaking your head. “Whatever occurred before our union, during it, it is in the past. This is the present — you deserve me.”

He wished that he could believe you — it was difficult for those words to fully sink in, for him to take it all to-heart. Those lilac hues swam with melancholy, yet he attempted to wipe it all away for your sake.

Instead, you moved to bring him into your embrace, hugging him close to relieve whatever anguish he felt. To your surprise, he held onto you, burying his face against your collarbone, arms settling against your hips.

Admittedly, he felt pathetic — all of this agony and frustration pouring out on his wedding night, and you were comforting him. It mattered a great deal to him, your simple act of listening and ensuring his wellbeing.

A gust of your scent hit his nostrils, a floral concoction that balanced upon the edge of sweetness and something alluring. Aegon steeled himself and decided to cease his bout of guilt and try to be a proper husband and lover to you.

“Seven Hells.” Aegon hissed, brows screwing together in a look of inner disdain. He was often several flagons deep whenever this ordeal took place — there was nothing to ease his nerves.

“Aegon …” Before you could ask what troubled him so, he silenced you with a singular glance, lilac hues swimming with unshed tears. Frustration seeped into his gestures, a coiled repression of a rooted inner loathing that threatened to consume him.

“I have not — Fuck,” With a mumble of annoyance, he steeled himself, knowing that the truth of the matter might make you disgusted by him. “I have not had a clear mind, laying with a woman.” Admitting to his nervousness made his stomach turn with dread.

Overindulgence was his cardinal sin, and yet he hadn’t had a drop of wine at all this evening. His confession gave you pause, enough to contemplate, consider the weight of the truth. “Would this be the first time?” Your tender utterance lacked any initial shrewdness.

Aegon simply nodded, palms still clutching onto you, able to feel the pliant curvature of your body beneath your wedding gown. His closeness made your breath hitch, lilac hues boring into your own, drinking you in. “You are divine.” He murmured.

To see you without the haze of intoxication — there was nothing more perfect. Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, Aegon felt your hand drift across his shoulder, through velvet and silk, until you reached his jaw.

It was disarmingly gentle, the unexpected grace of your fingertips as they stroked across his cheek. His lips parted slightly, enough for a brief huff of surprise to escape him. Absentmindedly, he found himself careening into your embrace, seeking the warmth of your palm.

Lilac hues ogled your mouth, until he could bear it no longer. Aegon planted a gentle kiss against your lips, feeling your body tense beneath his hands, the gesture fleeting. A wisp of a whine bubbled within your throat, falling from your mouth.

Abandoning such rigidity, your body sluggishly relaxed into his hold, tension unfurling from your shoulders. A wave of repression seemed coiled within your kiss, as if you were holding the dam aloft, refusing to let it shatter.

Yet, such desperation oozing from you mirrored his own, one that he thought he’d buried. Roused from dormancy, Aegon’s flame of desire began to smolder as he coaxed you closer, tormented by the sweetness of your kiss.

Eager digits flexed against your hips, index finger circling over the divot there, aching to see you bare, unobstructed. He savored your taste, like that of piety, something saccharine, now transformed into a ceaseless craving.

He could not recall the last time he had wanted; this incessant ache had now warped into some amalgamation of desire and despair, yearning to touch you, worship you. Aegon had never felt the urge to covet something — not until his gaze had found you.

With another barrage of fervent kisses, the pale-headed prince retreated, the distance slim as he looked upon your doe-eyed countenance. “I wish to see you,” His utterance had adopted a lascivious edge, lilac hues burning with need. “Please.”

Joined hands fluttered to the many ties of your gown, seeking to free you from your cage of immeasurable fabric. It was you who had subtly allowed one palm to fly toward his own doublet, evening the score.

Aegon did not protest, even if he wanted to. As you shed your wedding gown, letting it peel away from you, draped over the lounge, he felt his heart hammer within his chest. He felt like some deplorable lecher, entirely undeserving of you, but he did not want to ruin this with his insecurities.

Through your tantalizingly-thin shift, the Targaryen Prince allowed his gaze to rake over you, covetous and aching. “Fuck.” Aegon mumbled, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, unable to tear his hands from you. They squeezed at your hips, lingering over your backside.

Adjusting his position, he moved to coax you into his lap, noticing your sheepish disposition. This was all unfamiliar territory for you, one that he desired to handle with care, as if rectifying his past blunders. It would never be enough, never repairing what damage he’d done, but it was a start.

Neediness had driven you closer, slotting yourself into his lap as he greedily cupped your backside, kneading into the pliant flesh. Aegon kissed you once more, a low groan tearing past his throat, echoing within your maw.

Kisses devolved from shy and exploratory to innately wanton, your own need bleeding through as you tilted your head slightly, deepening your entanglement. The pad of his thumb traced circles into your thigh, savoring the soft flesh beneath.

A prodding of his tongue to your kiss-swollen lips sent a shiver of delight through you, mouth parting to make way for his greedy maw. Lips clashed, collided, and meshed again — arousal surged within you, thick between your thighs.

The fabric that clung to your form even still left little to the imagination, hips writhing into his own, creating a delicious friction between you both. Proof of his desire was laid bare, straining against the front of his trousers as you pressed closer.

Beneath the rich, emerald velvet of his doublet, Aegon’s tunic sagged against his poorly-defined musculature, the hue of sage. It was your insistence and clamoring hands that had spurred him to shed it all, fabric pooling alongside your gown.

“Aegon,” A rapturous sigh tumbled from your parted lips, mouth stilling against his own as you sought to touch him, hands trailing through his pale tresses. Oozing warmth coalesced between your thighs as Aegon planted a kiss to your throat. “Please.”

As one palm continued to grope at the swell of your backside, the other coursed over your collarbone, downward still until he cupped your breast. Mouths continued to connect in heated kisses, a low groan erupting from his throat.

Fire’s crackling glow blanketed him in pooling orange, illuminating his ethereal features. Each touch evoked a deep-seated repression from you, desiring as much as he was willing to give you.

Another satisfied hum escaped him as you carded your fingers through his hair, hips lurching forward. Absentmindedly, your hips continued to urge against his, eliciting a breathy sigh from Aegon. He sounded so pleased, continuing to palm at your breast.

One of your hands clamored to relocate, smoothing across his chest, and then towards his abdomen. Gooseflesh followed in the wake of your incendiary touch, like that of a blazing fire, turning him to ash. Fingertips then found the ties of his trousers, earning you a look of surprise.

He feared that if you touched him, he would’ve combusted then and there — and that was no way to end one’s wedding night. Instead, he redirected you, savoring the sensation of your silky hand snug against his chest. His kiss made your head spin.

Bodies continue to glide together, friction crackling where space becomes increasingly nonexistent. Flesh meets flesh, a seamless mold that prompts you to shiver, mouth a roaring flame as you continue your barrage of kisses.

The cool metal of his ring felt like some pleasant brand against your flesh as he kneaded your breast, thumb circling around your peaked nipple. A delighted noise leaves you then, akin to the sweet lull of a siren’s song, drawing him in.

As your hips rocked against his own, Aegon fought against his own baser instincts, the swell of his cock brushing languidly against your core. A sharp inhale ripped through his lungs, hands groping you, kneading into your flesh, caressing wherever he could as he held you close.

His mouth had dropped to your neck, showering your velvety flesh in strings of passionate kisses. There was no intoxication finer than you, whose heady, saccharine scent beguiled him without a care, more tempting than ever.

Aegon continued to greedily toy with your breasts, savoring their weight, the way they melded into his palms. Eager digits lightly pinched at your nipple; each moan that left you was akin to a lullaby, dizzying his senses.

“Gods, stop squirming.” Aegon huffed, lilt lacking any bite to it. It emerged as a partial groan, attempting to spare himself from embarrassment on his wedding night. He deposited you onto the plush cushions of the settee, gentle as ever.

Warm and clouded with a desirous haze, you watched in wordless rapture as your husband clamored down, moving to kneel in between your legs. Amethyst hues glittered with adoration, peering up at you as he smoothed his palms along your thighs.

“I am sorry,” Fearing you’d done something wrong, he soothed you with a string of kisses to your leg, pressed upon the inside of your knee. Pale tresses swept across your velvety skin, and he marveled at the sight of you, beauteous beyond comprehension. “Aegon, I ...”

“Do not apologize.” A brief shiver rolled down his spine as your palms cupped his face, cradling his visage within your hands as you stooped down for a searing kiss. He felt like some starving animal, moving upwards to reciprocate your kiss, desperate for any scrap of affection.

Unblemished hands began to push at the fabric that clung to you still, allowing it to unceremoniously pool around your hips. A moan rippled through you, slick nethers exposed to your new husband, embarrassment beginning to settle into your bones.

Before you could make some valiant attempt to shield yourself from him, Aegon refuted you with a light push of his shoulders. His countenance sparkled with a growing ardor, mauve hues boring into you as he shook his head.

“Please, do not deny me this,” It was a strained plea, the Prince begging for you to oblige him, slotted between your legs as if he belonged there. “I wish to taste you.” His confession felt hot, uttered from greedy lips.

Completely and utterly besotted with you, and you with him, you sluggishly began to allow your legs to part, kissing him once more. As your slender digits twined against his crown, he nearly groaned, savoring the pliant pillars of your mouth as he reluctantly withdrew.

His countenance seemed so docile, subservient — amethyst hues glittered with a budding attachment, lips parted as he rested his head against your thigh. Inhaling a gust of your scent, he began to press kisses to your leg, hands kneading against your haunches, reveling in all of you.

Pleasure was not a foreign concept to you, but the act itself was. Exhilaration stung your flesh, prickling away within the pit of your belly as he kissed along your thigh, each ministration wrought with rapture.

Aegon had come to spill his sins, let them vanish between your legs. “Beautiful.” He exhaled, kissing his way toward the rousing heat nestled against the apex of your legs. It was as if he were drunk upon you, intoxicated by your very essence.

The constant preening of your fingertips throughout his tresses set him ablaze, a soothing sensation that nearly subdued him. As he kissed his way to your nethers, he was delighted to find you warm already, slick glistening upon your petals. It gave him some twinge of confidence — he did not disgust you, at least.

“Aegon,” A shrewd whimper bubbled from your throat, hand sinking to cradle the base of his skull. It was as if your body already knew, hips attempting to lurch forward. Hot breath fanned over your core, prompting you to writhe beneath him. “Gods, please.” A sigh of passion left you.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Aegon crooned, stoking the fervent flame that churned within your belly. Ringed palms gleefully cupped your thighs, chilled metal of his signets pressing into your flesh as he kept your legs parted.

Dragging one finger through your petals, he watched in awe as you shivered. Gods, you were wet — admittedly, he hadn’t wholly expected for you to be this way. As you urged him closer, diaphragm erupting with sputtered whines and wrought with desperation, he indulged you.

A greedy tongue raked hot embers over your slit, groaning at the ambrosial taste that clung to you, a finer stout than many. Straining against the front of his trousers, his cock throbbed with an incessant ache, longing to be inside of you.

Aegon lacked tact, lapping at your cunt with messy, eager strokes that had made your back arch. One could not mistake it for anything other than enthusiasm intermingled with covetousness, digits smoothing themselves over your inner thighs.

A shrewd whine erupted from your throat, a noise that had sounded so foreign from your tongue. The Prince’s pale crown had become your anchor, fingers idly perusing throughout oil-mussed strands, tugging and pulling as you pleased.

“A—Aegon!” A squeak of surprise tore past your lips, the foreign sensation of pleasure spreading through you like wildfire. Gods, he reveled in your noises — he wished to hear them again and again, if he could.

Ring-adorned digits clamped down into your thigh, the other snaking toward your hips, caressing circles into your supple flesh. His mouth was like that of fire, kissing his way along your nethers, tongue teasingly prodding against your entrance. It was more than enough to make you squirm.

The coil of taut heat within your stomach seems to tighten as Aegon greedily lapped at your cunt, like that of a man starved. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his pale locks, urging him closer.

Aegon’s ministrations lack practice and grace, an amalgamation of want intermingled with greed, his desire to have you. Nevertheless, his sloppiness is welcomed, thighs involuntarily squeezing around his head, and he moves closer still.

It is then that he seeks the pearl of your cunt, pressing a string of wanton kisses to the sensitive clutch of nerves. A shiver of delight grips your spine, throat erupting with a moan as your back begins to arch.

With a devious lash of his tongue, he openly laps at your pearl, drunk upon the taste of you, far more intoxicating than that of any wine. Aegon’s fingers tense against your thighs, quietly marveling at your softness, plush and pliant within his hold.

Hips surge forward, jolting into the greedy heat of his mouth, and he merely treats you to incessant barrages of his tongue. Admittedly, your enthusiasm in the matter only spurred on his confidence in pleasing you — he did not do this very often.

His name rolls from your mouth like some incantation, tapering off into a string of whines and stifled moans. Molten heat churned violently within the pit of your stomach, volatile and oozing, coalescing between your thighs.

“Aegon!” A breathy plea tumbles from your lips, body begging for more, for whatever he is willing to give you. His ministrations change from gently suckling upon your pearl to broad, tactless laps of his tongue, with little variation.

Aegon’s lips glistened with a sticky sheen of your nectar, of a finer stout than many, more delectable than any wine that had befallen his mouth. You were quickly ascending towards your release, body pulled taut, preparing to snap in the wake of such devastating pleasure.

His cock throbbed with an incessant, desperate ache, precum slick around the head as it strained against his trousers. Your own satisfaction spurred him on, and your delightful noises only sent him spiraling into the depths of further depravity.

It doesn’t take much more for you to unravel, bursting at the seams as your new husband brings about your first release. It is blinding, the white-hot throes of ecstasy that sends you crashing into a blissful afterglow.

You do not recall how many times you cry for him, sob his name, but Aegon commits it all to memory. The Prince’s stomach surges with a volatile heat, nearly groaning in response to your pinnacle.

A heaving sigh jostles him, inhaling gusts of your saccharine scent, catching his own breath as he presses continuous kisses over your thigh. His cheek happens to rest against your leg, and as you begin to come down, the sight of him is enough to reignite the flame once more.

Amethyst hues seem to sparkle with triumph and elation, flickering towards you, glittering lips twitching into a lopsided smile. Aegon felt happy — he could not recall the last time he’d felt true joy, uninhibited by wine.

“That was …” Truthfully, you do not know how to describe it, but your reaction is more than enough to please the Targaryen prince. Your fingers continue to rake through his pale tresses, dancing over his crown before cupping his face. “Wonderful.”

“I am not finished yet,” Aegon uttered, slithering from between your legs to capture your mouth with his, able to taste yourself. A whine of delight escapes your lips and he revels in it, mouths entangling in a heated kiss. “I need you.”

It isn’t an easy thing to admit to, needing someone — and yet he does, and it feels unusually effortless. The weight of his words takes root within you, head bobbing up and down in a consensual nod as he seizes you from the settee.

As you clamor for your shared marital bed, he stops at the mattress’s edge, hands tangling against the hem of your shift. Your arms adjust, allowing him to free you from the fabric, which happens to feel too restrictive, too claustrophobic.

Aegon’s visage is buried beside your collarbone, marveling at the sight of you — Gods, he was exceedingly fortunate. Even then, a despondent voice screamed at him, how he did not deserve you in the slightest, and he refused to listen to it.

His mouth became dry, desire swelling within him like the urgent crash of a tidal wave. Aegon’s violet gaze remained transfixed, unable to tear themselves away from you and the perfection of you; all of you.

“A—Are you going to be gentle?” The nervousness of your inquiry is unmistakable, and he is swift to quell such fears, pressing a kiss against your brow. You’ve always been told that consummating was physically painful, such horror instilled within you once you reached womanhood.

“Of course,” Aegon was not a good man — rotten, really. However, he had no desire to treat you with callousness, no desire to manhandle you into subservience. “I would not harm you.” His reassurance seemed a mutual thing, a promise to both himself and you.

With a nod, a tender smile spreads across your face, beguiled by him as you reach for the laces of his trousers. A flicker of surprise settles into his lilac hues, but he doesn’t protest, swallowing the growing lump within his throat.

Hungry and rapturous, Aegon allowed his gaze to roam over you freely, committing every detail of your form to memory — beauty incarnate. He permits you to untie his breeches, the strings loosening altogether.

As leather gives way and he stands bare before you, your features warm at the sight of him, ethereal; incandescent, really. He is more godly than you imagined him to be, vexed by him, by body and by heart.

That is when you feel it, the proof of his arousal pressing into your lower belly, oozing with precum as he slowly ruts his hips into you. A sharp moan blossoms throughout your diaphragm, palms gathering at the nape of his neck as you coax him down for a searing kiss.

A groan rippled through his throat, escaping into twined mouths as you moved against his erection, enough to nearly make him sputter. Aegon’s desperation bleeds into you with a blinding intensity, so poignant and so palpable that it makes your knees buckle.

Before you can protest his recoil, Aegon moves with you onto the sheets, a clamor of eager limbs, and your belly surges with butterflies. You know not to be fearful, but you cannot help it, expecting him to crawl atop you and make it easy.

Bewilderment settles into your features when he does the opposite, coaxing you into his lap with such enthusiasm, such neediness. Mauve hues were blown-out with lust and exaltation, enthralled by you as he felt you settle down against him, thighs firmly caging him in on either side.

The game of waiting was an agonizing one, as he longed to be inside of you, let you feel him with renewed vigor, drown himself within your growing affections. Aegon groaned when your lips met his, connecting with a thinly-veiled ardor, passionate yet tender.

Wandering hands smooth themselves over the swell of your hips, clutching at the pliant flesh, his erection pressing against your thigh. A sharp inhale passes through him as you gently adjust yourself, comfortable atop him — you rather enjoy this, you think.

Desire made him dizzy, head beginning to spin in a delirium, induced by the growing haze of ardor. He couldn’t recall the last time he laid with a woman and truly enjoyed it — yet, he enjoyed this, reveled in it all, craved you as one would gusts of fresh air.

“I need you,” The felicity dancing within your wanton plea makes him want to sob, and he knows that he needs you just as terribly. His cock twitched, the flushed head proclaiming his own want without the use of words. “I beg of you, Aegon.”

“Fuck,” Aegon groans; your nethers clench pathetically around nothing at all. Eagerness seeps into each caress of his hands, every touch, every sigh of passion. “Sit, I — I need you terribly.” His pleas made your bones ache, stomach churning with a flame that demanded to be extinguished.

At your mercy, he slumped back against the golden pillows, countenance echoing such unrestrained yearning, guiding his aching cock to your glistening cunt. He steeled himself, watching in a tremulous rapture as you adjusted yourself, slowly sinking yourself onto his length.

A cacophony of whines escaped you, the sudden intrusion somewhat painful, but nothing agonizing — not how it was made to appear. His grasp steadied upon your hips, digits kneading into your flesh as you continued to rock downwards.

It was a sluggish start, agonizingly so, bodies finding moments to adjust to one another, grow accustomed. The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

“Ae—Aegon,” With a blubbering moan, your palms fell atop his chest, splayed over pale flesh as you awkwardly began to ease yourself up into an erratic rhythm. You did not know how to move, but he seemed to revel in it, mouth erupting with groans aplenty. “Gods.”

Such sensations seemed to overwhelm you, a blissful ecstasy seeping into your bones, belly sloshing with excitement. You did not go quickly at all, each movement slow and punctuated, thighs stinging from the first inklings of exertion.

Beneath you, Aegon gazed at you as if you were some goddess, amethyst hues shimmering with a thinly-veiled ardor. His heart hammered within his chest, breath catching as one hand slithered downward, groping at your derrière.

Neither of you would last long in this state — him, in particular. He was dizzy, rendered stupefied by such wanton desire, his cock throbbing inside of you with an incessant need. Precum continued to ooze forth, spilling inside of you.

Aegon watched you carefully, completely and utterly mesmerized, beguiled as he began to guide your movements. It all instilled a fire within you, raging as it seared your nerves, set all of you ablaze as his cock kissed your walls with a gentle fervor.

The full, lovely swell of your breasts bounced gently atop your chest as you continued your ministrations, repeating the monotonous motion of rocking along his cock. Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, and it quickly spread to your loins like wildfire.

A breathy groan of ‘fuck’ emerged from Aegon’s mouth, countenance contorted into a look of complete and utter ecstasy. “Gods, do not stop, I beg you,” Aegon commanded through wanton groans, hips desperately rutting up inside of you. “Please.” He pleaded.

Ceaseless, you carried on, thighs burning as you rode him as you would a broken gelding, palm sliding toward his face. Wordlessly, you coaxed him in for a blistering kiss, prompting him to sit up from his partial slouch, mouths connecting in a frenzied flurry of bliss.

Aegon’s hips continued to jolt forward, cock burying itself deep within you, a sword sheathed within its scabbard. Moans emerged from you in myriads, hands suddenly clamoring for the nape of his neck, fingers twisting themselves into his silvery tresses.

Between kisses of tactless passion, his mouth withdrew, only to sloppily pepper themselves along your jaw before settling against your throat. The very image of grace, tarnished with lust; a maiden worth worshiping.

The coil of heat that had remained furled within Aegon began to rapidly pull apart, his pleasure one of such dizzying ecstasy. Hips clashed together, the friction a delicious sensation as a shiver iced your spine, and then his.

“Aegon!” A fever that you couldn’t sweat out, you rode him ceaselessly, ministrations a touch erratic, yet you maintained a steady pace. A whimper of ardor bubbled from your lips as you became invigorated, rocking yourself up and down along his cock, aided by his grasp upon your hips.

Drowning within ecstasy, Aegon knew that he could not cling to restraint any longer, cock throbbing with a persistent ache. His digits gripped you tightly, a choked groan emerging into the hollow between your throat and shoulder.

The lewd, crass union of flesh against flesh joined the ambiance, his hips continuing to buck up into you intermittently. You clung to him as if you were drowning, his lips ravishing your flesh whenever he had a moment to breathe, cock nearly kissing your cervix.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart completely, in shambles beneath you, hot ropes of virile seed filling your womb with a wild desperation. The rush of warmth soon flooded your insides, his spend sticky against your nethers.

Aegon saw stars from the intensity of his release, nearly collapsing in the aftermath of it all. Perspiration glistened along his spine, bones nearly turning to molten liquid as you continued to ride him for a few moments more.

Foreheads pressed together, lips soon finding one another, disarmingly gentle as he allowed one palm to cup your cheek. His thumb danced over your jaw, the gesture unusually sweet as your hips began to slow to a mere crawl.

Sheepish, you began to withdraw, a soft moan leaving you as you maneuvered yourself from his lap, a rush of sticky warmth coating your inner thighs. You crawled from bed, dancing over discarded clothing as you sought out something to wear.

Aegon lazily rolled to lay down, amethyst hues trained upon the gilded canopy above, running a hand over his face. He hadn’t expected to come undone as he had, but it was perfect — he hadn’t felt like that in some time.

His gaze soon found you, softening at the sight of you bundled up within his sage tunic, the silk brushing against the top of your thighs. Lust gnawed at his bones, seeing you like that — it only made him covet you in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“Seven Hells,” Aegon mumbled, tongue darting to wet his lower lip as you slunk forward, his stare half-lidded as he shamelessly admired you. “Must I take you again, looking like that?” He murmured, noticing the way you became smitten so very quickly.

“Should I remove it?” Afraid that you had misstepped, you nearly reached for your shift until he shook his head, waving you over. Your features burned, pleasantly warm as you crawled back into bed with him, curling into his side.

“I would often say yes,” His voice was remarkably smooth, lacking the initial torment and despair from before, instilled with a subdued joy. “Not this time. Come here.” Inviting you to lay with him, you turned, chin perched against his shoulder.

His hand circled around you, fingers trailing along your spine as he drew the sheets around you both, reveling in the feeling of your form pressed to his. In the blissful afterglow, you remained quiet for a moment, palm placed atop his chest.

A lump formed within his throat as he contemplated this, being with you — he had not felt so at-ease in what seemed like forever. You had made him feel so comfortable, vulnerable in a way that he both craved and detested, but perhaps it was for the best.

Perhaps, you would draw out the best in him, allow him to atone for past mistakes, even if he felt like it was all too late. Firelight danced throughout your chambers, beginning to wane as embers replaced roaring flames, the room ambient with even breaths and steady hearts.

“Aegon?”

As your sweet cadence cut through his lament, he looked to you, head cocking to one side. “Hm?” Admittedly, he could fall asleep now if it weren’t for your presence, mauve hues absorbing the beauty of your smiling countenance.

People rarely afforded him a smile, let alone the doting look you gave him — and he melted, collapsed within the tenderness of it all. Again, he swallowed, attempting to force the swell of emotion down his throat.

“I think we will be happy together, you and I.” He knew you meant it — knew your sincerity, genuineness spilling from each syllable. You weren’t expecting him to answer, allowing your head to rest neatly against his chest, and he held you closer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, true happiness had tugged at his heart.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - The World Revolving

1 | 2

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

While exploring the ruins of Card Castle, Kris stumbles across a bound god of chaos hiding just under the surface...a foe way more formidable than any they've faced yet!

PHEW I swear, it feels like I've been working on this particular scene forever! Been distracted by many things...other comics, continued wrist troubles, winter break, etc... but finally, it's done and here! This one is probably the most gnarly one yet in terms of body horror, so heed the warning tags!

The latter half will be out tomorrow!

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - A wide shot as Kris, Ralsei, and Susie make their way through the card kingdom castle…a wrecked ruin, with half-broken towers and ripped banners fluttering in the open air. Lancer sits happily on top of Susie’s head. “Are we there yet?” asks Susie. Lancer replies with a simple “No.”

Panel 2 - Closer on Kris as they look downwards. Something has caught their attention. In the background, Susie and Lancer repeat the exchange: “Are we there yet?” / “No.”

Panel 3 - Kris notices what looks like a trail of parchment torn into different shapes, leading down into a lower level of the ruins. 

Panel 4 - Kris begins to follow the scrap paper trail across large stones, straying off of the pain path through the castle ruins.

Panel 5 - Ralsei notices that Kris has wandered away from them. Susie and Lancer also look on in the background. “Kris? Where are you going?” asks Ralsei.

Panel 6 - Kris points at the scrap trail leading down into the rocks, still focused on it. “The old shopkeep, Seam…they mentioned something about a path cut from pages…”

Page 2

Panel 1 - Side view of Ralsei as he watches Kris descend down, and cautiously holds up a hand in warning. “It’s not wise to wander too far off-course, Kris!” he says. 

Panel 2 - Kris doesn’t seem to pay attention to the warning. In a wide shot, we see them following the trail down a series of large stone steps that seem to be shaped into a spiral. At the bottom of the spiral is another stone with unknown markings on it. “They said there could be something useful to us at the end of it…” Kris says.

Panel 3 - Wider shot of Kris now at the bottom of the spiral. Ralsei, Susie and Lancer watch warily from above, back on the main path.

Panel 4 - Kris approaches the stone at the center of the spiral. It seems to be covered in moss, but something else catches their attention first–

Panel 5 - Closer on the stone, it shows that it has markings on it: a cross, divided up into the four card suits. Kris leans in closer to observe and brush the dirt from the stone. “There’s something here…” they say.

Panel 6 - From high above, Ralsei sees Kris focusing on the stone in the spiral. “Kris? Hang on just a second…” he says, holding out a hand in warning.

Panel 7 - Closeup on Kris’s hand as they brush against the marked stone. Their thumb touches a trigger hidden on the side of the stone, which gives a sharp ‘CLICK’.

Page 3

Panel 1 - Kris lets out a surprised yell as very suddenly, they plummet down beneath the stone–

Panel 2 - Their yell continues as they vanish into what is revealed to be a sudden trap door, opened right below where they were standing. 

Panel 3 - The remaining Fun Gang look on with shock and surprise, and call out as Kris vanishes. Susie gives a shocked “Woah!” and Ralsei cries out “KRIS!”

Panel 4 - A vertical panel as Kris plummets down into open darkness, their limbs flailing. Light from above shines on them as they fall.

Panel 5 - With a grunt of pain, Kris lands on what appears to be a sandy hill–

Panel 6 - And continues to tumble down the hill, sand trailing behind them–

Panel 7 - Very wide shot as Kris’s fall continues, showing that they are sliding down an enormous sand hill, like the inside of an enormous hourglass. Only a single shaft of light shines from where they fell. Otherwise the area is empty darkness.

Page 4

Panel 1 - Kris’s finally slides to a stop somewhere in the sand. They grit their teeth, and try to get back onto their feet. 

Panel 2 - Kris suddenly springs back up, eyes wide in shock, as a strange, bellowing laughter booms around them: “UUH HEE HEE HEE…”

Panel 3 - Kris looks ahead of them…at the very bottom of the sand pit, like an antlion at the bottom of a pit trap, sits what appears to be a bulb, or a closed circus tent. 

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Kris gets to their feet, very wary. “Who’s there?”

Panel 5/6/7 - Multiple panels as the enormous circus tent moves, and begins to unfurl itself…showing massive hands made of bone and stretched tent material, like sinewy skin. Each bony finger is tipped with an enormous scythe. The creature lifts itself up enough to show the a jester’s head, hanging upside down from the bottom of the tent. The jester’s face sports slit eyes, multiple hoop earrings on its pointed ears, and a smile of jagged teeth. 

Panel 8 - Wide shot as Kris stands tiny before the enormous form of Jevil - a creature of bones and tent skin and scythes, balanced precariously upside-down over what appears to be a bottomless pit. Jevil looks at Kris and declares, “WELCOME, WELCOME, LITTLE LOST HUMAN! YOUR FREEDOM IS WITHIN REACH!”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Kris looks up in fear and confusion at the giant creature, and tries to step back. “What are you?!” they ask.

Panel 2 - Focus on Jevil’s upside down face as he grins back at Kris, and says, “A GOD, LOST HUMAN! A GOD OF CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 3 - Kris stands small against the chaos god as he continues to grin down them. “COME CLOSER, AND WE SHALL ENGAGE IN SUCH MERRIMENT!”

Panel 4 - Kris eyes the enormous scythes at the end of the fingers, and continues to step back, extremely cautious. “A god, is it? I think I’d prefer the rest of my party be here for any ‘merriment’,” they reply.

Panel 5 - Jevil twists his head to the side with curiosity and glee, and replies. “I INSIST! I SEE YOUR SOUL DESIRES CHAOS! WHAT EXCITEMENT, WE ARE KINDRED SPIRITS!”

Panel 6 - Focus on Jevil’s scythe fingers as they begin to move through the sand, creaking with the effort. He is beginning to spin.

Panel 7 - Shot from above on Jevil as he spins faster and faster, the tent body and splayed scythe fingers blurring into a hypnotic spiral. The wind howls around him with the spinning.

Panel 8 - Kris jolts forward as the winds pick up around them. The spinning is creating a gyre, drawing them in closer.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Kris tries to slow their slide as Jevil continues to spin and spin, drawing them in closer. The winds and movement are hard to resist. “LET US PLAY, PLAY!” Jevil cries in delight. “TRUE FREEDOM AWAITS YOU!”

Panel 2 - Kris looks up at the revolving god, unable to stop their slide through the sand. The winds whip their hair and cowl around them. However…

Panel 3 - “If I can get past those blades and make the jump…” Kris thinks to themself, as the scene shows Jevil’s smiling face through the whirlwinds.

Panel 4 - Closeup on Kris. They grimace to themself as the wind continues to buffet them and pull them in, and finish the thought: “...One good swing should sever the head and end this!”

Panel 5 - Kris pulls out their sword as they continue to slide closer to the edge of the gyre. Jevil looks on as they say aloud, “I don’t know that I trust a bound god’s concept of freedom.”

Panel 6 - Jevil tilts his head down at them, still smiling as always, and replies, “BOO HOO  HOOEE HEE! AND DOES YOUR SOUL KNOW IT?”

Page 7

Panel 1/2/3 - Multiple panels as Kris slides down the sand, holding their sword at the ready. They ready their sword in another panel, back to the camera, facing down a laughing Jevil. The final panel includes a closeup of their hand gripping the sword, although their hand is shaking. Across all panels, Jevil continues to taunt them: “IN THE BELLY OF A ROAMING BEAST, IN THE OWNERSHIP OF A DEMON PRINCE, IN THE RIGID RULES OF YOUR LIGHT WORLD? IS IT THERE?”

Panel 4 -  The scythe fingers swing by in a blur as Kris slides into the gyre, and pulls their arm back, ready to strike with their sword–

Panel 5 - A black and white abstract panel - something sharp slices through the darkness, and strikes home.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Kris’s face as they look shocked into silence–

Panel 7 - And the camera pulls out to reveal that their sword arm is gone, sliced off completely at the shoulder. They can only look down at the stump where their arm once was in horror.

Panel 8 - Kris screams as they’re thrown helplessly into the center of the whirling gyre, blood streaming behind them from their severed arm. Jevil faces them with glee and declares, “NO, NO! YOUR FREEDOM IS HERE!”

Page 8

Panel 1 - The panels are jagged now, coming apart along with the world itself. Kris is trapped in the searing whirlwind, orbiting around Jevil’s spinning head. The world is a blurred tornado. Jevil cries, “A SIMPLE CHAOS IS ALL YOU NEED! UNRAVEL MIND, BODY AND SOUL!”

Panel 2 - Kris is subjected to the god’s command. They scream into the void as their body is unraveled in the gyre, starting at the stump and spreading out to the rest of them in strips of cloth, flesh and bone. 

Panel 3 - A massive panel as Kris is completely torn apart at the seams. Their glowing soul is revealed as their body is peeled away in stips from them, leaving only a few bones and muscles trying to stay together. 

As Kris is pulled apart, Jevil’s voice rings out: “SEE, SEE HOW ALL THE RULES AND ORDERS HAVE TRAPPED YOU? HURT YOU AND KILLED YOU?” In the strips of Kris’s body pulled apart are scenes that seem to confirm Jevil’s worldview: Empire guards chasing down Kris as a young child. Toriel kindly shooing Kris away from a pie they were interested in. Asgore keeping Kris from plants he knows are dangerous. Kris on the altar as they are sacrificed to the demon. Kris giving up their soul to Ralei. Kris being devoured by Susie. Kris trapped at a door by Mr. Society and Mr. Elegance, keeping them from advancing with rules. Kris being revived, again and again, by Ralsei’s control over their soul. “BUT HE HAS SHOWN ME, IT ALL MEANS NOTHING, NOTHING!”

Page 9

Panel 1 - The panels continue to be jagged and harsh as the rest of Kris’s body is completely obliterated in the whirlwind, leaving only their soul spiraling in the gyre. Jevil’s voice continues: “NO RULES, NO HURT, NO PRISONS FOR YOU! SHARE YOUR JOY WITH ME!”

Panel 2 - Kris’s soul begins to break under the strain of Jevil’s version of joy: a swirling mess of eyes, teeth, claws, screaming faces, beasts and sinew and armor. They all close in on their lost soul in a mess of chaos and madness.

Panel 3 - As the winds turn to pure darkness, Kris’s soul begins to dissolve in the gyre as well, broken in the relentless chaos. Jevil’s voice rings out once more: “SHARE YOUR SOUL WITH ME, A TRUE CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 4 - As Kris’s soul is nearly dissolved and lost in complete blackness, another voice cries out: “KRIS!” From the darkness, Ralsei’s glowing eyes and fiery claws reach out to grab Kris’s soul before it’s lost. 

[myladysapphire]

Hello!!! So I was thinking if you could do this +18 dic for Jace

So like reader is from a kingdom or land outside from Westeros (royalty not Dothraki) and to make alliances it’s decided that readers sister is gonna be betrothed to someone in the Targaryen family BUT reader is against making alliances with Westeros because of their culture and how women are inferior and after the feast jace shows her why Westeros and her land should make alliances if yk what I mean👀

It would be awesome if you could make this!!

Thanks bye bye!!

oooh love this idea! Hope you enjoy it <3

why don’t i show you?

when you come to westeros to arrange your sisters marriage in an alliance with westeros you find there customs to be anything but acceptable and start to question the need for an alliance, it takes jace to show you why an alliance is needed.

word count: 2,134

CW: MDI 18+, smut, hate s*x, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, semi-public s*x, misogyny.

Jacaerys Veleryon x fem!reader

Masterlist

Once queen Rhaenyra Targaryen took the iron throne she looked to Essos for alliances, particularly the free city of Bravvos. Your family was one of the most powerful of the sea lords, with deep connections and influence in the iron bank, and with Westeros in deep need of money following the war, it made your older sister the perfect candidate for said alliance.

She content with the match, the idea of one day being queen seeming to be very appealing, even if it was of Westros.

You however were anything but happy about it. You knew all about Westros, especially there views on woman, the purity culture, the fact that a husband by law could strike his wife seven times, one for each of their gods.

You had argued against the match, seeing little benefits for your family or Bravvos in the union, but your parents were insistent on it, deeming there to be more rewards than I could understand.

They had sent you alongside your sister to Westros despite this.

And though the climate was so different from what you and your sister were used too, Westros was beautiful. The red keep, though nothing compared to the architecture of Bravvos, was a sight to behold.

If only you could say the same about the company with in it.

The prince Jacaerys had not once left you alone, seeing to prefer you over your sister. Not that you could see why, not once had you expressed joy over the union, and in fact had very publicly declared your distaste of it. But Jacaerys seemed persistent to irritate you with his constant presence.

He had practically ignored your sister, not that she cared much, in fact she spent most her time with the princess Heleana, finding more in common with her than the few conversations Jacaerys had spaired her. She also had taken a full backseat in the betrothal, not caring to attend the meetings to discuss said marriage and the alliance it would hold, leaving it all too you. Meaning more time spent with Jacaerys, in a room full of men, despite their being a queen.

You scoffed as one of the lords mentioned a marriage between you and another lord of Westros, your were sure he was talking about himself, as he started to ramble on about the rock he called a castle, not that you were really listening, to focused on how Jacaerys had yet to take his eyes off you.

“I do not think a marriage between both sisters is beneficial for Bravvos” you interrupted, “in fact this marriage alliance is hardly giving us anything beneficial in the first place” you sneered.

“How so, my lady?” Jacaerys asked, as an amused look filled his face. “Though you are giving us a loan, that I shall admit will benefit us greatly, we are giving your family a daughter who shall one day be queen, and her sons shall be kings.” You had noticed how he never once referred to your sister when he talked about said marriage alliance, always using a general term, being unspecific in who exactly he was talking about. “Not only that but we have offered our dragon riders to support Bravvos in any militarily matters until the foreseeable future”

You shook your head, “so a queen and dragons is what we get, whilst you get one of the largest loans we have offered, with minimal interest. We are saving you and your kingdom from bankruptcy, and yet my sister shall be queen of a kingdom that can’t even respect her!” She shook her head in anger, “the sea lords however seem insistent upon it, so I believe discussions on the matter are at an end, the marriage will take place in a week and I see no reason for me to continue to attend these meeting” you said as you stood to stand, Jacaerys joined you.

“I’ll walk with you”

“I can walk by myself” you whispered to yourself, and heard Jacaerys laugh as he walked with you.

“Why are you so against the marriage?” He asked, as he walked with you to your chambers.

“Because I do not desire for my sister to be thrusted into a country where the customs are so… so anti-woman” you spoke, trying to remain calm.

He hummed “my mother is queen and she is a woman, that does not seem anti-woman to me”

“Was there not a war against her being queen?”

He laughed “there was, but we won, and all is now well”

“Really?” It was your turn to laugh “then explain to me why the order of westros is so heavily favoured towards men?”

“It takes a while to change peoples thinking, my mother has been queen for only a few years, and whilst things are changing, I shall admit it Is happening slowly”

You scoffed, as you reached the threshold of your chambers, “I shall see you at dinner” you dismissed done with the conversation. It was the same one you always seemed to have.

That night at dinner, your sister once again did not sit with her betrothed, favouring sitting with Heleana once more, granting Jacaerys the opportunity to once again sit next to you. An event that seemed to happen every night.

You tried to ignore him, but he seemed insistent upon talking to you, “how is it you like your tea my lady?” Your not quite sure how you got onto the topic of tea, perhaps it was because he noticed tea was your go to drink.

“Oh um, well I mostly take it with honey, but depending on my mood I have been know to mix lavender or peppermint into it.” You said casually, “do you like tea?” You found yourself asking.

“I normally have it in the morning, but I tend not to add anything to it other than sugar” he said, happy to have an actual conversation with you, “what about wine?”

“Wine? I drink it on occasion, such as tonight.” You said as you as flagged down a servant to pour you some, you rarely drank, especially here, with there watered down wine.

“Interesting, I too rarely drink” he said, nodding his head “and what about-“

“If your going to ask me another question about what drink I like I will slam your head against the table” you snickered, as he laughed at your tone.

“I apologise” he continued to laugh “perhaps you could tell me about your interest’s mayhaps?”

You shook your head “and why should I do that?”

“Because I wish to know you, other than how you take your tea and that you are incredibly headstrong-”

You scoffed “headstrong? I simple wish for woman to at least be treated the same way men are, and yet the whole of westros is so against it that I am the one causing an issue!” You whispered angrily to him, trying not to start a scene.

“And you are wrong, woman may not be treated the same as in Bravvos but we are making attempts to change it, trust me I am as against it as you are!” He whispered back.

You scoffed “oh please.” You said as stood to stand, declaring you wished to retire early.

Your practically stormed out of the room, nearly running down the hallway. You stopped in an alcove to catch your breath, and recover and wonder why so little words had made you so angry.

Then you heard footsteps, his footsteps.

“My lady, I am sorry to offend you.” He started “I know there are a great many differences between our to lands and I am sorry, I am striving to do everything I can to change this, but our lands need this alliance”

“And why is that?”

“Because I-“ stopped himself before looking at you, and suddenly, he kissed you, it was soft and passionate, full of the emotions you had long craved to believe where hate, but as you kissed him back, though some hate was there, it clicked, you liked him, and were jealous of your sister. You pushed away from him, your hands on his shoulders, your back pushed against the wall, breath heavy.

“I need you” he finally finished, his head leaning against yours.

“Your betrothed to my sister” you argued.

“The alliance does not state her name, I could marry either of you” he said, his mouth coming down to yours again “and your sister seems more occupied with others than me, I doubt she’ll mind”

It was true, and so you kissed him back, not caring to think much about what he was implying.

His hands descended to your waist pulling you closer to him.

Your kisses grew more heated, your bodies slowly grinding against eachother the as you kissed. His mouth descended to your neck, leaving soft marks as he descended lower, before finally coming down to were your bodice starts, his hands had moved up your back, toying with the strings of your corset.

“Please.” You begged.

His hands started to undo the ties of your corset, your bodice slowly loosened, allowing him to pull it down and take your breast into his mouth.

He licked and sucked at your breasts as you let out low moans, careful as to not alert passers by of your presence.

His hand moved lower, coming up under your dress, caressing your wet cunt. You shuddered as his finger descended to your hole, your mouth moving to his once again as you urged him on.

Pumping his fingers in and out of you, you continued to kiss him to cover up your moans, as you felt your cunt start to tighten around his fingers, your peak edging closer and closer, but just as you where about to cum, he withdrew his fingers causing a moan of protest to leave you.

He laughed, “if I am going to truly show you why we need this alliance, then the only way your going to be cumming, is around my cock.”

You moaned as he said that, kissing him once again as your hands went to untie his breeches.

Freeing his cock, you slowly started to stop kissing him, before sending him a smirk and going down on to your knees, and taking him into your mouth.

He moaned as you did, his hands coming to hold your head, as you started to pump in his cock in and out of your mouth, his hips shattering as you tongue wrapped around his tip.

“Gods!” He moaned, a little too loudly, as he started to thrust his cock in and out of your mouth, before swiftly withdrawing himself from, you stood up, laughing softly at the flushed look on his face.

He kissed your mouth softly, before picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, your dress bunching around your own, and his cock swiftly entered you.

You both moaned, as your walls wrapped around his length tightly. He moved after a moment, starting to pump his hips slowly into you.

“Faster.” You demanded, and he happily complied.

Pounding into you, you both moaning as his pace picked up.

He kissed your neck softly, hiding his moans in your shoulder, as you bit your hand trying to cover up your own.

You peak getting closer and closer.

You could feel his coming too, your cunt wrapping around his throbbing cock, as you both let out a moan.

“Where?” He asked, his peak getting closer and closer.

“Inside” you groaned, egar to cum.

As he continued to pump into you, he felt your walls tighten even more, and a high pitched moan leave your mouth as you finally came, and he was quick to follow.

“Jacaerys” you said, as he pulled out of you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Jace. Please call me Jace”

“Jace” you corrected “what-“ you were cut off at the sight of Queen Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon, appearing in the entryway of the alcove.

Daemon laughed as he saw the two of you, what you had done seemingly obvious.

Rhaenyra shook her head, going to speak, before being cut off by your sister appearing.

She laughed herself, mainly at the shocked look on both your and Jace’s face. “Well, good thing I didn’t want to marry him anyway” she said, unconcerned with what she walked in on.

A week later you married Jace instead of your sister. And Rhaenyra had made you her key advisor on the matters you so strongly spoke about, as was agreed upon in the new terms of your alliance.

And though you hated most customs in westros you found instead of hating the company as you once did, you now rather enjoyed it, even falling in love with one of them in particular.

Taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99 @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld

to be added to taglist

[bunnyluvx]

spending rainy nights with you.

featuring: vlad dracula ţepeş x gn!reader.

summary: you're reading late at night, and your husband grows impatient waiting for you.

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

tags: fluff | one-shot | vampire! reader | established marriage | clingy! vlad | you fight like an old married couple (you are an old married couple)

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! finally a new fanfic after 4 months. i'm really proud of this one so i hope you all like it! thank you to everyone who gave me advice, i really needed it. i appreciate you all so much! p.s i made the dividers featured, so please do not use them.

date started: 5:02PM, december 31st, 2024. date finished: 5:56PM, january 8th, 2025.

ib: @creativepromptsforwriting ♡ | wc: 2.9k | ao3

Darkness cradles the Earth in a loving embrace while the clouds cry. The moon cannot give its glow for beings below, and the stars are unable to watch the wonders of the night unfold for long without the clouds covering their view. It has been this way all evening, rain pouring down anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, stopping for around the same amount of time before starting again. The plants and animals of the forest are grateful for the sky's nourishment, and the clouds feel so encouraged by nature's gratitude that there are no signs of this pattern letting up anytime soon.

You appreciate the weather, too, for it is perfect for reading. At the moment, you find yourself sat in one of many libraries in the castle. The rocking chair that you find yourself in is rather comfortable, and the book in your hands pulls you further into its story with every word you follow. In your most comfortable nightwear with a blanket on your lap and a cardigan around your shoulders, not many other things come to mind when you try to think of a better way to spend your evening.

"I'll be to bed soon, dear. I'm almost finished with this chapter." Your voice breaks the comfortable silence and echoes across the wooden shelves enveloping you in your little corner to reach the ears of the rather large man that is making a very poor attempt to hide.

Standing not far from you, partially behind a bookcase, is your husband, Vlad Țepeș. You've felt his presence for the past few minutes, deciding that you would wait for him to speak first, but as quiet lingered in the air, you quickly realized that he wasn't going to announce himself. Your history with Vlad goes far beyond your marriage, for the two of you were some of the first vampires to ever walk the Earth. You were good friends for a very long time, and to save the novel-worthy story, you found each other after many years of being separated and romance fiercely set ablaze. No divine being could send you someone that's close in comparison to him, and he could say the same about you.

There are a few more moments of silence before you feel wind hastily rushing against the back of your neck, followed by large, strong arms tightly wrapping around your shoulders and cold skin resting right where the air had just wafted past you. Many would find it hard to believe that Count Dracula is a clingy lover, but this behavior is of no surprise to you. For as long as the two of you have been together, Vlad has always craved closeness. When he is without you for a certain period of time, he searches the castle to take his rightful place by your side once more. He didn't have to look for long tonight, for he knew exactly where you were.

You have been obsessed with this book that you found in the library, and while he is glad that you are enjoying it, it is taking your attention away from him. This is not something that pleases Vlad very deeply, so he is planning on making some changes tonight. "You've been in here for hours. Come to bed, now." His deep voice comes with a rumble from his chest, tone composed of a gentleness reserved for you alone.

His plea does not go unheard, for you know that all he wants is for you to snuggle up with him and doze into night's comfortable slumber together. Fondness takes hold of your heart as a small, tender smile curls onto your lips. It's difficult to refuse him such an innocent ask, but it is just as difficult to pull yourself away from the narrative in your hands, so you assure your beloved, "There isn't much left. You'll be alright a few minutes more."

This earns a disappointed groan from Vlad, burying his face further into your neck. "How much more is there?"

You tilt your head and take each remaining page between your fingers until you find the next chapter, and when you find your answer, you tell him, "Three pages."

Another groan grates from Vlad's throat, prolonged from the previous one as he nestles impossibly further into your skin with his large frame leaning against the back of the wooden chair. "Remind me why we sleep at night." Your darling requests, peaking up at your face.

"Hey, you don't have to sleep at night if you don't want to. It was your idea to change your sleep schedule so that we could match," You grant Vlad his request and recall the commitment that he made to sleeping throughout the night so that the two of you would be able to be together when the sun comes up.

You have preferred day to night for as long as you could remember. You have no reason for favoring daytime other than feeling that the Earth is so much more lively and bright. The plants are so vibrant beneath the sunlight, and there are so many things that you want to experience that you wouldn't be able to otherwise. Vlad always knew that you enjoyed day more than night, therefore adjusting your sleeping schedule accordingly; As a result, Vlad told you that he was going to start sleeping through the night too. At first, you were a bit worried about such a major change to his routine, but he insisted that he wanted to see the world through your eyes. This has been the arrangement ever since, and you cannot help but feel so smitten by the idea that he is willing to introduce such adjustments to his agenda in order to be with you.

With this transition in his life, Vlad knew that he was going to be groggy. While he has a substantial amount of energy compared to most vampires, this does not exempt him from needing the same amount of sleep. Have no doubt when he swears that there is nothing that he would change about dedicating himself to your lifestyle. You were right when you said that it was his choice, but unfortunately, it does not cure the fatigue that he often finds himself with when he stirs from his night's rest.

In attempt to adjust to the pattern he promised you, he likes going to bed early. Vlad tries to be tucked in anywhere from seven to nine P.M, and typically, you are by his side. You go to bed around the same time that he does, if not a little later, so when he was preparing himself for bed without you, he got worried. He figured that you would come to bed soon, so he laid down in attempt to fall asleep. As the hours ticked by with still no sign of you, he became restless, eventually making the decision to go look for you.

A defeated huff leaves Vlad's lips as he rests his forehead against the back of your neck again. One of many reasons why he fell in love with you was because of your smart mouth, and you pick the most bedeviling times to use it. "I know that," He mumbles lowly, peaking back up at you before resting his chin on your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You know that I can't sleep without you. Please, come to bed." The count pleads again, sweeter this time.

You almost give in to his honeyed words, their innocent warmth daring to bewitch you. Nevertheless, you keep your composure while your eyes remain on the page before you, as they have throughout the entire conversation, "You will be just fine, dear. Only a few minutes longer."

Vlad has learned much about patience in his life, especially when he found you again. All good things come to those who wait is something that the dark-haired vampire has commonly watched play out, so normally, this wouldn't be the end of the world for him. He would do naught more than pout and refuse to detach himself from you until you came to bed. Tonight, however, Vlad will not be indulging in your distractions. Quick to stand, sending a blast of wind against your back once more, the count steps to your side before lifting you up into his arms. You yelp at the unexpected change of location and almost drop your book in the process, barely being able to catch it by its spine before holding it closed to your chest and leaning against your husband. "Vlad!!" You exclaim, laughter tickling its way from your lungs moments after.

"No. I have had enough. You are coming to bed with me." The vampire declares as he begins to make his way towards the library's exit.

"Vlad, put me down!!" You demand, only moderately annoyed with him as you flail in his grasp in attempt to escape, "Right now!!"

"Nope. So sorry, my dear, but your book is going to have to wait." Vlad proclaims, lips tilting upwards in a cheeky grin as his head turns to the side so that radiant red eyes can meet yours, "Your husband requires your attendance to the nightly snuggle session. You're late."

Any attempts you're making to escape the security of this man's arms are greatly failing you, so you decide to admit defeat now rather than later. His strength serves well, and while you are grateful for it most days, this is a good example of the cons of being married to one of Earth's most powerful vampires. He can, and will, wrangle you around whenever he pleases. Your bottom lip pokes out from its place as you lean against the man's chest, determined to uphold your front of unwavering stubbornness.

Amused by your dramatics, Vlad rolls his eyes playfully and allows them to close while a chuckle vibrates up his chest and past his lips. He opens them again to admire your sullen expression, musing, "Oh, come now. I can't be that bad of a cuddler since you're pitching a fit."

Your pout is quick to dispel from your face, a long sigh expelling from your lungs just afterwards. You avoid eye contact as you agree with him, "No, you're not."

Another chuckle escapes the mouth of your lover, a sound that you are secretly glad to hear that reassures you that he isn't taking you seriously. He draws you closer to his chest as he softly murmurs against your forehead before placing a kiss to it, "Don't worry, you can read more tomorrow."

You sulk and avoid eye contact for a bit before dropping the act. It wasn't much longer before you arrived into your shared bedroom, the door coming open to reveal a sight that has grown comforting to you over the years. The room is decorated primarily in red and black, as you both adore the colors, but there are a few distinct shades around too which sets apart your individual styles. Assorted trinkets rest across dressers and shelves from the many travels that you two have taken over the years, gifts and ornaments that you've made for each other through a plethora of shared anniversaries that always bring a smile to your face every time you pay mind to them.

Variously styled mirrors, decor, and paintings hang on the walls. There is no real purpose for the mirrors other than to enhance the elegance of the room, as they are too high for both you and Vlad to see anything from. The paintings, however, hold much importance to both of you. Each illustration that lays across your walls tells a story from one of your memorable moments together. Vlad personally hired the best artist he could find to perfectly capture your most treasured experiences, and whenever you are having a bad day, all you have to do is look up to brighten your spirits.

Your husband walks over to his side of the bed and holds you above the center before dropping you onto the soft surface, causing you to puff out an exhale before your laughter sings into the air. You lay yourself across the bed and remain still while Vlad adjusts the canopy draped over the wooden post by his pillow before he launches at you. With no time to move away, he plops over your stomach, the impact of his weight causing you to wheeze. You look down at him with an astonished grin on your lips as he lays in momentary silence before lifting himself off of you to settle onto you comfortably. You sit up and adjust all of the pillows behind you before leaning back against them, prying your book open again before it is promptly snatched out of your hands and slammed onto Vlad's nightstand. You laugh and try to reach for it, imploring for its return, but that is quickly shut-down by the vampire hovering above you, "No. Sincerest apologies. You'll get it back tomorrow."

Slowly, he stations himself on top of you with his head against your abdomen just under your chest. He is mindful of your body language to ensure your comfort, and when he descends his full weight with no awkward shifting or complaints from you after a few minutes, he concludes your contentment with the position and nestles his head against you with closed eyes. Your arms lift as he gets himself cozy, and once he relaxes, you wrap your arms around his shoulders while your fingers begin to comb through his hair. A smile graces the vampire's lips as your touch serves to soothe all worries away from his mind.

You cannot stop the smile that grows onto your own face as you watch his lips curl up. No soul, alive or dead, can say that they have experienced Vlad Țepeș' joy the way that you do, and for this, you are grateful. Vlad has spent so much of his life keeping up a cold, merciless profile for all vampires that dare to step to him, but charades with you are unnecessary. All of the walls that he spent centuries building are torn to shreds in your presence, and no matter his methods, they could never withstand your blinding iridescence. There is comfort in your arms that he has never found in another, and this tranquility that he has the luxury of being the only person to experience is something that he holds close to his heart. This is not something that you do knowingly, for it is who you are. You are a constant source of peace that quells the ever-roaring fire in his soul to a quiet crackle. You are what inspires him to be curious about the world, you keep his thirst for knowledge abundant with your differing perspectives, and he firmly believes that your ideas could change the world.

It's truly a shame that your eyes cannot convey the amount of love that you hold for this man, but they are doing their best. Your gaze displays your overwhelming adoration for him, and he surely feels how loved he is. When you look at him, Vlad knows that he is admired in every way he never dreamed of. Your eyes do not have to meet for him to know that you look at him like he is the greatest thing in the world, and that is all you could ever wish for. You finally decide to break the silence after watching him rest for a bit, teasing him, "Is this going to be your spot for the night?"

Any thoughts that Vlad was having before you embraced him have completely vanished. Now, it's just you, him, and your warm bed. All he can muster out is a low, "Mhm."

You giggle as you recognize his sleepiness and lift your legs slightly, asking, "Then can we at least get under the covers so that we don't freeze to death?"

A lazy, amused smirk curls onto Vlad's face at your suggestion, his nostrils flaring in a huff. "I'm not even sure that we can freeze," He admits.

You chuckle and move your hands from his hair onto his back to pat it. "Well, I don't want to risk finding out. So come on."

An agitated groans leaves your comfy husband before he begrudgingly eases himself off of you so that you could get under the covers. The two of you adjust the pillows to their normal spaces and you shake off your cardigan to toss it aside before you slip your legs beneath the sheets. A corner of the sheets lay open, and you lift them up to welcome him inside. Vlad's lips form a gentle smile, and his eyes soften affectionately at the sight before he climbs into the covers and rests himself back on top of you. Your fingers return to threading through his hair, a blissful sigh respiring from his lungs as he resumes a comfortable position. You look down at the top of his head with the same benevolent expression that you wear every time that you look at him, and your voice comes out soft when you say, "Goodnight, my dearest. I love you."

The words that you tell him every night are words that he could never tire of hearing. When you say it, he knows that you mean it, and it fills him with ease to know that when you wake up in the morning, he will get to hear you say it again. "Goodnight, my darling. I love you too." Vlad returns the sentiment, falling into an inescapable slumber with you not far behind him.

@BUNNYLUVX ,, all rights reserved. do not copy/plagiarize any of my works or submit it into ai. any and all support is appreciated! <3

[bumblesimagines]

Curiosities

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Overwhelmed and distraught by his duties and the death of his child, King Aegon decides to indulge in his favorite pastime: visiting the Street of Silk. However, he decides this time, he wants to seek comfort in the one person he's always been curious about.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT warnings, Aegon being Aegon, mentions/implications of child exploitation, mentions of teen-adult relationships, mentions of Targcest/incest, death of a child, sexual content dontttlookatme, (Y/N)/Reader is a brothel worker, potential spoilers for S2, mentioned/implied homophobia (the Faith)

Aegon is a pathetic wet cat of a man (derogatory) but Tom is so pretty

~~~

Aegon hardly remembered the first time he'd visited a brothel.

Perhaps it was the mixture of drinks in his system preventing him from recalling the first time he'd stepped foot in a brothel. He'd been a teenager, he knew that much, and he'd likely paid for the prettiest woman in there. He'd had enough experience messing with the maids around the castle to know what to do and he'd ensured to pay well for the service. But despite not recalling the act itself or even the woman he'd done it with, he vividly recalled the worker who'd caught his eye the second visit. 

It'd been a week or so after the first visit and he'd gone in sober, willing to drink whatever the brothel had in stock until he passed out or was kicked out. He sauntered in with his typical confidence. He was a prince; everyone wanted a taste of him. The other customers in the brothel regarded him with smug smirks and nods of acknowledgment, to which he returned with the same smugness. He'd taken a seat at one of the tables and savored the way workers glided toward him in revealing clothing - or no clothing at all - with coy smiles and flirty coos. His eyes, however, failed to lock on the women flocking to him. 

Across the way, he noticed one of the rooms with the curtains drawn back by a few inches, giving view to the worker and customer inside. A boy around his age, perhaps a year or two older, sat on the bed with his rope drawn back and hanging loosely from his shoulders. A woman had her head on his chest, her eyes shut tight and cheeks stained with tears while her red-colored lips formed words.

The sight would've made him laugh, it was utterly pathetic for a grown woman to cry on the chest of a boy, but his heart lurched longingly when the boy raked his fingers through her hair and gently rocked her. The act looked so... sweet.

"Who is that?" Aegon questioned one of the women settled at his side, hardly paying any mind to the soft stroking of his chest. She tilted her head over her shoulder, searching for what'd caught his attention before she spotted the two. She gave a soft hum and looked back at him, her lips delicately dragging over his cheek and stopping at his ear. 

"That would be (Y/N)," She told him softly, her voice velvety. Her long lashes tickled his skin. "Poor Nora lost her husband to a horrible fever not long ago, My Prince. I hear he looked like (Y/N) in his youth. She seeks comfort, not pleasure." 

"I see," Aegon murmured and finally took a swing of the wine offered to him, waiting for it to settle into his veins before he gave in to the ladies around him. His eyes continued to drag toward (Y/N) throughout his stay. 

Men in brothels were no surprise, not to frequent customers, at least. Some enjoyed the company of men without facing scrutiny, some needed the money, and others were simply raised in the brothel. Throughout his visits to the brothel, Aegon learned it'd been the latter for (Y/N); a boy born in a brothel who simply never left. He found his curiosity spiked with each visit, each time he caught sight of him serving wine or slipping behind the curtain to entertain someone new.

Aegon never approached. It was completely new territory, territory he'd been told by septas and maesters he should never enter. 

It'd only been when his little son and heir died at the order of his older half-sister that he decided he couldn't give a rat's ass about what the Seven thought of him. They'd never given him a time of day, even as the King of Westeros, so why should he care? His son was dead, his sister-wife was a mess, and the Council acted as if it were all a mere inconvenience. 

When he staggered into the brothel that night, everyone stopped their doings to stare at him wide-eyed and silent. Each of them bowed, whether dipping their heads or bending at the waist and watched him as if waiting for him to crack. Aegon hated it. He hated how everyone seemingly viewed him as weak. He was the King, for fuck's sake! The wine and ale swimming through his veins made his senses and emotions heighten, forcing tears to spring to his eyes. 

"Drinks on me!" He hollered into the room, and the crowd within erupted in cheers and whoops, the energy returning to the room tenfold. A laugh tumbled out of his lips and his shoulders straightened, soaking in the gleeful looks and nods sent his way. They loved him now, even if they believed him to be a usurper or not. They loved him.

Aegon took a goblet from a table and drank its contents, feeling the liquid burn his throat and send a shudder up his spine. He set the goblet aside and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, vibrant eyes searching the room until they spotted the object of his desire. He made a beeline for him, ignoring the ladies who attempted to catch his eye until he stopped by him and grasped his arm a tad roughly. 

"Your Grace?" (Y/N) stumbled slightly with the tug, his grip on the pitcher tightening to avoid spilling any wine. He stared at him, brows lifting and eyes blinking owlishly. Aegon had never seen him up close before, and regret settled in his belly at the realization. What a fool he'd been, letting time pass him by. 

"You're mine for the night," Aegon told him, taking the pitcher from his hands and setting it down at the table he'd been serving. The men there shifted uncomfortably under Aegon's stare, none of them uttering a single word of protest and instead turning their attention onto the other workers around. 

Brothels had unspoken rules. Everything that happened in a brothel, stayed in the brothel. No one spoke a word of what went down or whom they saw within the walls of one, unless they wished for their own secrets and pleasures to be spilled to the public. Of course, Aegon expected his new Master of Whisperers to hear of it by the time he returned to the Red Keep, but he trusted Lord Larys to keep it to himself. 

Without another word, he turned toward the nearest empty room and tugged the curtain open far enough for the two to step inside before tugging it close again. Aegon's heart raced in his chest, be it from the drinks or genuine excitement, he couldn't be sure. He turned to face (Y/N), finding the young man already seated at the edge of the bed watching him. 

"What do you want, Your Grace?" He asked gently, his head tilting to the side while Aegon fumbled to get his clothes off fast enough. He looked enticing in the soft candleglow with his rope pulled apart to show his chest and stomach. It made heat spread throughout Aegon's body. 

Discarding his layers of clothing, he stumbled forward and grabbed hold of (Y/N)'s face, lips slamming against his clumsily. "You." He exhaled and pressed their lips back together, pushing (Y/N) flat against the bed with ease and digging his knees into the mattress. His hands forced the silky robe further apart, undoing the belt and pushing it further down (Y/N)'s shoulders until he could grab a fistful of it and yank it off the bed. 

"What is it you want from me?" (Y/N) asked next, breathless and head tilting back to allow Aegon more access to his neck. Aegon suckled and nipped whatever skin he could reach, littering his skin with red and purple marks that'd surely vex the Madam who owned the brothel, but he was a king. He could do as he pleased. 

Aegon laughed airly in return, leaning back to admire his work and pressing his thumb into one of the bruises. "What everyone else wants." He responded, eyes slowly raking over the rest of his body; from his rising and falling chest down to his thighs. Irritation flared in him at the fading mark of fingers and he placed his hand over his thighs, squeezing until he ensured the only mark left was by him. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) reached out to cup the nape of his neck, and in one swift move, Aegon found himself lying beneath him. He blinked up at him and then laughed giddily, hands flying to (Y/N)'s hips and squeezing the flesh there. (Y/N) leaned back on his thighs and took him by the shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position so they were face to face. "What do you really want?"

"Yo-" The word died in his throat when (Y/N)'s fingertips brushed back his messy silver hair behind his ear. His lips pressed together tightly, eyes jumping away from the worker to focus on the lewd mural painted over the wall. (Y/N)'s palm pressed against his cheek, his thumb stroking his skin.

The gentleness of it, the sweetness, the comfort. It was all foreign to Aegon. He was used to being slapped, pushed, screamed at, ignored. Nobody had ever touched him with genuine kindness, not even Ser Criston who seemingly preferred his brother over him, or his mother who spent most of her time staring at him in exasperation or disappointment. The only people who ever looked at him with pure love and adoration... were his children. Little Jaehaerys.. 

Tears sprung to his eyes immediately, a sob threatening to rise in his throat. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as his vision blurred, fingers curling around the sheets in a desperate attempt to stop the tears from falling. He couldn't cry in front of someone else, much less a stranger. He was a king. He had to be strong. Crying showed weakness. Aegon wasn't weak. No, no, they were all wrong. He was strong. He-

"I'm here, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed softly, and Aegon's eyes snapped back to him. He smiled kindly at him and pulled him closer, his fingers tangling themselves in Aegon's hair. They ran through the silver locks sweetly, comfortingly, detangling the knots that'd formed and scratching gently at his scalp. "I'll take care of you."

With that, the wall he'd so desperately built crumbled, his arms slinging around (Y/N)'s waist as his lips parted to release whimpers and muffled wails. (Y/N)'s arms curled around his shoulder, cradling his head and humming gentle lullabies Aegon vaguely recognized. His body trembled and shook with each sob and cry, arms pulling and tugging him closer; seeking out the warmth and comfort he'd been deprived of since his childhood. A father who ignored him, a mother who begrudgingly cared for him, siblings who hardly liked him... a dead son. 

(Y/N) only moved to lean back into the countless pillows, bringing Aegon along with him and letting the king rest his head over his chest. His skin had long grown wet with tears and saliva but he remained silent, focused on rubbing circles along Aegon's back and brushing back his hair until the hiccups and sobs subsided, quieting down into sniffles and tired sighs. Part of him wanted to feel embarrassed but he felt too exhausted to allow the emotion to take hold of him. 

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, and Aegon's face scrunched up again, the last few tears spilling down his cheeks. Nobody had bothered to comfort him, and he'd been too overwhelmed by everything to seek it from his sister-wife. They hardly understood each other. Her with her odd riddles and sayings, him with his drinking and affairs. 

(Y/N) shifted underneath him, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a handkerchief. He dipped his fingers under Aegon's chin and tilted his head toward him, gently dapping at his cheeks and under his nose, drying and cleaning the evidence of his weeping. Nothing in his face changed, no disgust or boredom in his eyes. Only the kind smile and soft eyes. It made Aegon relax fully and completely. 

His fingers tightened on Aegon's chin, tugging on it gently and pulling the king up before connecting their lips again. Aegon slumped against him, his clear mind focused on the softness of his lips and the hint of wine still on his tongue. The back of (Y/N)'s ankles met Aegon's bare thighs, carefully pushing against them until their hips were pressed together. He swallowed the breathy whine that escaped Aegon, a brief teasing smile appearing on his face before Aegon began rocking needily against him, the smile vanishing. His parted lips allowed Aegon to venture into his mouth, tongues colliding on occasion. 

The hand along Aegon's back began exploring, running over the muscles he'd developed despite spending most of his time lazying about. His hand dipped downward and playfully squeezed the mound of flesh there, a low groan escaping Aegon. He pressed his forehead against (Y/N)'s, his lips curling into a smirk at the innocent look that (Y/N) gave him. Cheeky bastard. It was expected from a brothel worker, though. 

The clumsy rocking of his hips increased and the fingers that retangled in his hair gave a tug, gentle enough to not create any real pain but hard enough to get his attention. Aegon whined and dropped his head down to (Y/N)'s shoulder but he eased his rocking, his fingers digging tightly into the pillows and sheets beneath him. At his easy submission, (Y/N) smiled again and pressed a chaste kiss to his temple. 

"Good," He breathed and Aegon flushed at the way heat rushed to his lower belly. (Y/N)'s hand left Aegon's backside and reached for the nightstand again, pulling out a small round cup and bringing it closer. Despite his trembling thighs, Aegon managed to peel himself away from (Y/N), the loss of contact making his hips buck. 

"What is..." Aegon trailed off, (Y/N)'s hand taking his wrist. His thumb swiped over Aegon's fingers, pressing each down until one remained uncurled. The realization dawned on him fairly quickly, the way his features brightened making (Y/N) laugh softly before he dipped the finger into the liquid Aegon assumed to be some sort of oil. 

"I'll guide you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, setting the cup aside and guiding his hand down between their bodies. Aegon's eyes flickered between (Y/N)'s face and his hand, a strangled curse escaping him when warmth greeted his digit. His free hand tightened further around a pillow, the designs threaded into it imprinting in his palm. The way (Y/N) held eye contact hardly helped with his attempt at self-restraint. 

His mind ran wild, promptly forgetting about politics or the fact they were nearing a war for the first time in decades in order to focus on (Y/N)'s face. The darkening bruises along his neck only made Aegon's mouth water and heart flutter with pride, every gentle gasp and quiet whine that left him only made his veins burn with desire, something he found more addictive than the intoxication of wine. His head swooped down, burying itself in his neck to drag his tongue over the bruises and darken them even further with more suckling.

His hand began moving, slowly and experimental at first. Aegon hardly considered himself a gentle lover, for he preferred the joy of rough and fast fucking, only ever being considerate when it came to his sister-wife. Even then, even with Helaena, he often chased after his own high and pleasure over everyone else's, but he'd been desiring (Y/N) for far too long to make a fool of himself. When he curled his finger and heard (Y/N)'s breath hitch, he smirked and slipped in a second digit. 

Aegon humbly believed himself a quick learner when it came to things he enjoyed, so by the time he added a third digit, he'd already ensured (Y/N) had turned into a panting and whining mess. (Y/N)'s heels dug into his calves roughly enough to turn his pale skin red, the subtle hint of pain only fueling him to quicken his pace. He'd left (Y/N)'s collarbone and part of his chest covered in markings, ensuring any other patrons (Y/N) took for the following days knew who'd taken him to bed. 

The hand tightly gripping his bicep flew down to Aegon's wrist, squeezing around it and pulling his fingers out. His lips formed a pout immediately but he savored the gasp and light huff that escaped (Y/N). He swallowed and leaned up, capturing Aegon's lips again before pushing back against him, toppling Aegon onto his back once again and straddling his hips. Aegon's eyes brightened, his hands digging into (Y/N)'s thighs in anticipation. 

"Shit," A guttural groan left the king, his blunt nails leaving imprints in (Y/N)'s skin when he wrapped his fingers around Aegon's length, his thumb pressing over the slit. Aegon's hips bucked and he threw his head back, his adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. His chest heaved and a mixture of a whine and a plead fell from his lips like a prayer. 

"Easy, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed, his free hand moving to Aegon's chest and pressing against it, fingers gently massaging into the muscle. The hint of mischief in his words didn't go over Aegon's head. His heels dug into the crinkling sheets and his nostrils flared with the deep breath he took, his grip on (Y/N) loosening and thumbs rubbing over the areas apologetically. (Y/N) nodded approvingly and Aegon gave a lopsided grin. 

His composure lasted a whole three seconds before it crumbled with a few pumps from (Y/N)'s hand, though he only continued with a chuckle instead of scolding him. Aegon's eyes turned glassy again from the sensations, his breath hitching every few minutes while the knot in his stomach tightened. He let out a whiny noise when (Y/N) paused his movements, his bottom lip jutting out. However, when he caught the way (Y/N) pushed himself further on his knees and hovered over him, he clamped his mouth shut. 

Aegon's breath hitched again followed by a sharp curse as (Y/N) lowered himself at an agonizingly slow pace. A dribble of drool slipped out from the corner of his parted lips and trailed down his cheek. His mind had long gone blank, the only thing he focused on being the sensation of (Y/N) taking him with only soft pants and the occasional hiss. He desperately wished to move, to flip them over and ensure (Y/N) wouldn't be able to walk for at least a day but he wanted to be good, he wanted the praise he rarely ever got. So he remained still, hands moving to (Y/N)'s hips and clawing lightly at him. 

"You're doing-" (Y/N) cut himself off with a soft grunt, the hand at the base of Aegon's length leaving to plant itself on his other shoulder. Aegon swore he saw stars when (Y/N) fully settled on him. (Y/N) breathlessly laughed at the awestruck, hazy look on Aegon's face, his hand gently cupping his cheek and kissing him. "-so well, my sweet Aegon." Aegon whined softly at that. 

"Please," Aegon whispered and (Y/N) gave him a thoughtful look despite the teasing curl of his lips. "I'll be good." He murmured, words slurred but he hardly felt the effects of everything he'd taken that night. 

"Will you?" (Y/N) still sounded breathless, the candlelight showing off the gleam of sweat on his skin. His hands moved from his shoulders to wander over Aegon's chest and stomach, trailing over his biceps and arms until they reached his hands and laced their fingers together. Aegon nodded hurriedly, so desperate and wanting but the feeling of their hands together made his stomach flutter with a newfound emotion. 

"I-" Aegon had little time to finish his sentence before (Y/N) rose to the tip and then slipped back down to the base, the action knocking the air out of both of them and further tightening the knot threatening to break loose at any moment. One of (Y/N)'s hands untangled itself from Aegon's to slam beside Aegon's hand, a half-hearted attempt at balancing and grounding himself. Aegon held onto the other hand tightly, refusing to let him go for even a second. 

(Y/N) leaned down and pulled him into a heated kiss full of all tongue and muffled cries, Aegon's restraint chipping fully away when (Y/N) grinded down on him a few times. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)'s waist tightly, his thighs beginning to ache and burn deliciously.

"Go ahead," (Y/N) exhaled on his lips and Aegon lost himself. 

Much time passed, the sound of pained groaning and grumpy muttering from the other side of the window telling them the sun would soon be rising. The thumping footsteps of patrons nursing hangovers echoed through the brothel as they shuffled out, the jingling of coins and such mixing in. The quiet chatter of brothel workers followed, cups and chairs clinking as they began cleaning up. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) sighed sleepily, his eyelids visibly heavy and lip slightly jutted out. Aegon felt equally as exhausted but the sight of him rubbing tiredly at his eyes made his heart swell, finding himself unable to resist kissing his semi-swollen lips. (Y/N) hummed softly, his fingers slipping between their faces to push Aegon back. "You must head home. Your-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Your kingdom requires you." 

"I'd much prefer staying here forever," Aegon responded, coiling his arms tightly around (Y/N)'s body and dragging him closer against him. His whole body ached, his muscles sore and head spinning from the beginning of a hangover. (Y/N) breathed out a snort and rubbed his cheek into the soft satin pillow, eyes beginning to droop. 

"You mustn't. They'll come looking for you, Your Grace." 

"Aegon." He groaned. "Call me Aegon."

"Aegon." (Y/N) repeated softly. "Go home."

"Come with me, then," Aegon told him quietly. At his words, (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, the sleep jerked away from his body and replaced with surprise. Aegon chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. "Come with me to- to the Red Keep. Come... be my paramour. You'll have your own room near mine... and- and you'll receive whatever you wish for. No one will dare say a thing."

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment before he cupped Aegon's cheek and pressed a fleeting kiss to the tip of his nose. "You're exhausted, Your Grace. You do not understand what you're saying. You'll come to once you properly rest. You must go now before the sun rises and others see you." He said, slithering out of Aegon's hold to retrieve their clothes. He slipped his robe on with ease and offered Aegon his tunic. 

"I'll get dressed," Aegon took his wrist and dragged his lips over the back of his hand. "If you agree to become my paramour and live in the Red Keep." 

"We're only allowed in the Red Keep to entertain, Your Grace. You'll never be allowed to have a brothel worker as a paramour, much less a man. The Faith will never allow it. The Dowager Queen and- and-" 

"I do not care what they think. I am King. I can do whatever I want, and I want you to be mine."

[81pastrys]

hi, hope you're having a good day! can u write about norris family, piastri family and sainz family are going to a family trip abroad. the children decide to be a little adventurous, and one of them ended up being in a hospital because of a (minor) injury

Outside the Paddock

Summary— The trio take their girls on a beach trip, but the beach isn’t the only trip that happens

Warnings— minor head injury ; screaming toddler ; hospital/er visit

A/N— this is long so enjoy 🙂‍↕️

Dad Fic List

Carlos, Lando, and Oscar planned on bringing their girls on a group trip after a very underwhelming grand prix. The girls didn’t seem bothered. They were so excited to go on a trip with their dads, uncles, and basically sisters at this point.

Lando and Lila were first to arrive at the house they had rented out, unpacking in a room with a wall of windows. Lila sat on the floor and admired the beach view.

Oscar and Mila arrived next, unpacking with Mila exploring the room like it was fake. Then jumping on the bed before Oscar warned her to behave.

Carlos and Viviana arrived last, Viviana asking all the questions in the world and Carlos answering every one throughly to where she could understand.

The first day they decided to go to the beach. The girls splashed each other and made sand castles. They were loving the trip. The three men sat back on chairs and talked about racing. They watched their three girls play around.

Lila was the first complainer of the three. Always with the dramatics. “Daddy, sand got in my eye!!” She whined, her left eye closed as she held a hand to it. Lando gently grabbed her hand away and wiped the sand away with a towel.

“There sweetheart, go have fun now.” Lando said smiling at her. Viviana was the next complainer running to Carlos with fully drenched hair and a few tears.

“My hair is wet papi!!” She explicitly told Lila and Mila she didn’t want her face or hair to get wet. She whined and cried in Carlos’s chest. He dried her hair the best he could with her towel and sent her away again.

Mila came over and just crawled on top of Oscar. No explanation. “What’s wrong angel?” He rubbed her back and she just hummed. “Go play Mila.” He encouraged and she did. She just needed a moment with her dad.

All three men snapped their heads when a scream was let out. The girls had wondered off by some rocks. They all make their way over quickly, it seemed urgent. Oscar about freaked out seeing blood on Mila’s face.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Oscar said, you’re supposed to keep calm to not freak your kid out. However his daughter looked like she just got mauled by an animal.

“She slipped on a rock.” Lila said, now in Lando’s arms. Oscar brought his screaming toddler by the water and tried cleaning some of the blood off. What he forgot was that it was salt water and it made her scream even more.

Viviana and Lila covered their ears from the loud screams and they walked back by their things, Oscar grabbing a towel and gently cleaning Mila’s face. “Mila, I need you to stop screaming at me.” He said softly. “Look at me.” She turned her head and sobbed still. “You’re going to be okay.”

He finally noticed the cut that had caused blood to gush over her face and winced. “That looks deep, we should take her to the hospital.” Carlos said. Mila screamed again when Oscar dabbed the wound.

“I’ll start the car, look up the nearest one.” Lando said. Lila and Viviana were absolutely clueless as to why their trip got cut short. Oscar was holding Mila and still examining the wound on her forehead.

“Hey, angel, look at me okay?” He said. She looked up at him and he weakly smiled. “We’re going to bring you to a big doctor okay? And they’re going to help you feel better.” She nodded.

They rushed to get everything in the car and headed to the nearest ER. Only 5 minutes thank god, Oscar didn’t think he could handle Mila in pain much longer. They got out and checked in.

“What brings you in today little girl?” A nurse asked. “Oh no! How did you get that?” She examined the wound on Mila’s forehead and Mila shied away from the cold touch. “Dad can you sit on the bed with her and hold her so she isn’t scared?” The nurse asked.

Oscar obliged and sat Mila in his lap while the nurse looked at her forehead. “We were at the beach and she slipped on rocks.” Oscar explained. “She bled quite a lot.” Concern lacing his voice.

The nurse explained that she’ll need a few minor stitches but nothing too major. Mila whined, she didn’t understand anything that was being said. She leaned into Oscar’s chest and he let her.

“She’s going to give you medicine so you don’t feel the pain okay?” Oscar said when the nurse came back. “Do me a favor angel, hold my hands.” He held his hands on her knees and she listened. He held her hands with a tight grip when the nurse had a shot in hand.

“It’ll be a tiny pinch, and then no more pain, okay?” Mila nodded and let the nurse do what she needed to. Oscar ended up with her tiny hands in one of his and then held her head with the other so she didn’t move. She let out another scream and Oscar rubbed her belly after. “All done! See just a little pinch.”

Oscar got her to calm down once again. The nurse returned with stitching supplies and Mila didn’t want to move her head from Oscar’s shoulder. Luckily enough, her head was tilted the right way for the nurse to stitch her up on his shoulder. She didn’t feel a thing.

“I’m going to put some butterfly bandages, but she should see her pediatrician when you get back home.” The nurse explained. Oscar got paperwork done and then went back to the car. Carlos and Lando decided to opt out of the hospital visit with their daughters, thinking of how hard it was going to be keeping them in one spot for hours.

They actually made a trip home to change, allowing the girls to nap along the way. Oscar put Mila in her car seat and explained everything to the other two. Mila was out by the time they got back to the house.

I figured since Lila broke her ankle, Mila should be the culprit

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona

[ghoulishhx]

Hey queen!! ive just re-read heart eyes for the billionth time and was wondering if we could get a part two? (frank saying “show me” has genuinely been the only thing on my mind for the last few days)

anyways your writing is so so good and i hope you have a wonderful day/ night :))

you're not alone in that omg, i've been thinking about the "show me" since i wrote it lmao thank you for requesting a pt 2!!

18+ MDNI !!

part 1 - heart eyes

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: SMUTTT, pillow humping, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, praise, choking, unprotected p in v sex (dont do this irl please), dirty talk, frank talks you through it

Wordcount: 1.7k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ show me

“So, ya hump ya pillow thinkin’ of me, huh?”

“I do baby, while wearing nothing but your shirt too.” you taunt, climbing up to your feet. He groans at your confession, eyes rolling to the back of his head imagining you do this. You go to walk to the bathroom to clean yourself off, but he halts your attempts by grabbing your wrist and pulling you down to his eye level. He places his hand to your face, angling you to meet his gaze.

“Show me.”

His request stuns you, his eyes transfixed on your blushing face as he pulls you down lower to him. His chest rapidly rises and falls, jaw ticks and his eyes are void of all colour, his pupils lust blown. You bite your lip and grin at your boyfriend.

“You wanna watch me get myself off, Frankie?”

“More than anythin’ sweet thing. Want ya to give me a show.” he devilishly grins, reaching behind him to grab one of his pillows.

“Want me in your shirt too?” you wink, reaching down to remove your tank top and shimmy yourself from your sleep shorts. Intent on giving him the show of his life, you slowly bend down in front of him to retrieve his previously discarded shirt. He whistles through his teeth at the view, subduing a groan he feels crawling up his neck. He can’t help but reach out, roughly kneading the fleshy dough of your ass as you wiggle your hips in front of him.

“Tryna kill me off babydoll?” he grumbles, fist full of your ass.

“Haven’t even started yet, Frank.” you can’t help but giggle, his leaking cock already hardening once more as if he didn’t just get milked dry mere minutes ago.

“Then hurry along sweet thing, ain’t got all day.” he slaps your ass, the skin immediately reddening as he lets out a hearty laugh. You yelp, feeling even more arousal flood in your panties.

“Patience Frankie, ‘m getting there.” you pull his shirt over you, the material hugging your curves just right, your bare ass wearing only thin, lacy black panties peeking from the hem. You reach down and place a kiss on Frank’s forehead, climbing past him and situating yourself on his pillow. 

The moment you lower your soaked core makes contact with the plush of his pillow, you bite your lip. 

“Thas it doll, make y’self feel good f’me yeah?” he climbs to the back of the bed, leaning against the headboard getting comfy. You shoot him a smile as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. The whimpers you let out send more blood right to his cock, impossibly hardening his member. 

The sensation of your slick cunt rubbing so deliciously against the fabric, your panties getting caught around your bundle of nerves, Frank’s eyes bearing into you as he begins slowly touching himself makes you more turned on than you ever have been before.

Frank hums appreciatively at the sight before him,

“Look at you baby, my needy fuckin’ girl. Attagirl honey, just like that.” his eyes don’t leave you for a second, relishing in the way you’re coming undone for him before his very eyes. 

“Mhm.. feels.. Feel s’good Frankie fuck.” your hand travels to your clothed breast, tugging and squeezing at your hardened bud.

“Say m’name again, pretty girl. You tell me who’s makin’ ya feel good hm? Who’s doin’ it for ya baby?” he asks breathily, steadily pumping his cock in front of you, while you hump his pillow desperately. 

“Y-you Frank.. All you shit only you.” you’re whining at this point, so desperate for your own release. Just watching him so attentive to every action, every thrust of your hips against the pillow, you know he’s getting just as much pleasure as you are just from watching. 

“Damn right darlin’. M’name sounds so pretty comin’ from your lips sweet girl. Ya gonna cum for me now?” he reaches forward, shoving his thumb in your opened mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, making your body jerk. You’re so addicted to his touch, his taste. No matter how much you try, your orgasm isn’t coming. You place both of your hands on the pillow, steadying yourself as you hopelessly grind down harshly, taking his thumb deep down your throat.

“C-can’t Frankie.. I need.. Need you.” you lift your hands up, reaching for him. He chuckles at your attempts, maneuvering his fingers under your chin, digit still between your lips. Your heart eyes meet his,

“Aww my poor girl, can’t get off without m’help huh? Need your Frankie hmm?” he teases, enjoying how desperate you are for him, relishing in your needy whines and moans of his name.

“I do.. Please Frank. Need you to touch me.” you take his thumb as deep as you can, eliciting a gag from the depth of your throat. His cock twitches at the sensation, groaning at the feeling. He was just as needy for you as you were him, yet he wanted to keep teasing you.

“C’mon baby, you’re almost there. You can do it sweetheart.” he coos, inching closer to you, placing his lips on the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin hoping this will aid the cause. It’s evident it does, feeling his hot mouth on your neck makes your clit throb. He takes ahold of your waist, guiding you across the pillow while he suckles on the crook of your neck, whispering praise and sweet nothings in your ear. It’s not long before his touch leads you to ecstasy, you see stars as you finally get the pleasure you’ve been chasing. You can’t help but grab the hem of his shirt you’re wearing and bunch it up above your chest, exposing your tits to him. He moans at their release.

“Attafuckingirl doll, knew ya could do it. Shit, that's it. Let it all out f’me” he whispers, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You moan into his mouth as you reach down to his throbbing cock, softly pumping him as you continue riding the pillow, extending your orgasm for as long as you could muster. Frank lets out a primal growl as he feels your touch where he needs it most, he loses all control as he pulls you off of the pillow and into his lap.

“Watchin’ ya ride my pillow made me jealous princess, wanna feel it for m’self now, ok?” he grunts as he glides your soaked core against his cock, he can’t help but moan feeling how wet you are, your juices painting him. You whine at the overstimulation of his tip touching your clit, nudging it as he gathers your slick as lube. He lies back onto the bed as you hover above him, pushing his girth inside of you. The stretch makes you wince, his thickness always shocks you whenever he first pushes inside. The pain so sinfully delicious. 

“You can take it doll, tight squeeze.. Fuck that’s it.” his head falls back against the bed as he fully sheathed himself inside of you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. You adjust to the position, the feeling of being so full required you to take a moment before moving. 

“Fuck Frankie.. You’re so deep ohmygod-” you’re cut off as he begins thrusting slowly inside of you, his patience gone out the window. He needs you, and he needs you now. You rest your hands on his chest, stabilising yourself as you grind down on his cock, matching his movements as he bounces off of your sweet spot. You’re both moaning messes at this point, being so pent up and desperate for one another.

“So fuckin’ tight baby, like you were made f’me. Made to take my fuckin’ cock.” he groans, wrapping a hand around your neck as his pace hastens, squeezing gently on your pressure points. The feeling is dizzying, being fucked so hard the feeling of his hands around you only elevates your pleasure.

“Takin’ me so well doll, my dirty fuckin’ girl.” he slams into you, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your shared moans and your sweaty skin slapping against each other.

“Fuck Frank ‘m so close please.. Don’t stop oh my god right there.. ohmygodohmygod fuck-” your moans are borderline pornographic as you raise his shirt over your chest once more to gain access to your nipples, about to cum for the second time tonight. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Frank’s voice brings you back down to earth.

‘Eyes on me baby, wanna watch you fall apart. Cum f’me doll.” he groans as your eyes meet his, feeling like he was close now himself. You walls clamp around him as you milk him dry, juices flowing out of you as you cum hard around him. The force of your orgasm sends his cock out of you, followed by a stream of squirt all over his toned stomach. He elongates the stream, teasing the head of his dick along your clit, the juices coating him fully as he plunges him back inside of you. 

He flips your body over onto your back and takes both of your wrists with one of his large calloused hands, pinning them above your head. He relentlessly slams himself inside of you, pace beginning to falter as he was on the edge.

“Fill me up Frankie.. Please. I wanna feel you.” you whine, voice soft and intoxicating. Your words push him over as he spills his hot sticky seed inside of you, painting your tender walls white. He practically whimpers as his cock twitches and empties inside of you, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, moving to his side as he pulls you into his embrace, rubbing comforting circles along your shoulder with his fingers. You hum in his arms, dazed and cockdrunk.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that doll?” he softly speaks as he kisses the top of your head. “All mine. All fuckin’ mine.” he squeezes you hard, you can’t help but giggle to yourself as you feel his sticky stomach on yours, evidence of your orgasm.

“All yours Frankie, only yours.”

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i can't stop thinking ab frank in the ddba finale. he's rotting my brain i need him

my inbox is open!

[lustlovehart]

Hard Stoned Gallery Dance

A/n: This was made like monthhsss ago, so I’m posting it as forgiveness for the lack of work i’ve been doing.

Pairing: [ Monster!Twst ] Malleus Draconia x Reader

Summary: Dancing is a beautiful past time, yet such a pretty act is ruined, when Malleus decides to let his affections for you run rampant. (Wc: 1.9k)

Warnings: Kissing & Licking, Murder/Death of Minor Characters (Not explicit), Possessive traits, Clinginess bordering obsession, a little blood, Biting/Marking

Your head leans itself on the rough surface of the stone wall. You’ve finished your objective for the day, so giving yourself this break is well deserved, ten minutes free of Crowley’s nagging is still freedom despite how it sounds. Your eyes can’t help but look up at the pretty blue sky, it stings to look at but you don’t mind the pain, seeing something so clear is worth it.

That cloud looks like a cat.

…

The taste of indulgence is quickly stripped out your grasp when the familiar sound of dragging stone resonates through the air, grating to your ears.

“Child of hunters, what may you be doing here?” His rock-hard face interrupts your view of the sky, green solid eyes look down on you as he casts a shadow on your visage.

Despite his body being made of pure stone, his eyes give a faint green glow, as if a bioluminescent moss grew there. His hair, his wings, and even his tail freely flowed as if he were just a regular Dragon hybrid. But alas, he is some sort of statue— Oh no not a statue, in his words a gargoyle.

You forgot about the difference one time and in turn, he gave you a 3-hour lecture on the difference between a grotesque and other gargoyles. Never again…

“I’m trying to hide from my boss.”

“Shall I be rid of him for you?” His mouth forms a little o as a small puff of a green flame releases from him.

“That would be a bad idea, I’d lose my source of income.” He quirks an eyebrow up at this., to be fair, you don’t think he has any clue what a “payday” is.

Despite his confusion, he lifts from his bowing form, a hand reaching out towards you in all its mossy glory. You’ve known him long enough to know what he wants.

A dance.

You don’t try to hide your exasperation as you take his invitation, albeit a bit slow. His stone body quickly pulls you up and into him. With how much tamer his form is compared to other beasts you know, it’s hard to remember that he’s part dragon, and even worse is part of the only few monsters who know magic.

So as of right now, this marks your third time dancing with one of the worst monstrosities currently on the bounty list. No maybe not one of the worst… From what you remember from Crowley’s ramblings (which isn’t much since you tune him out when possible) he’s probably the most dangerous.

You get the basic idea, but you’ve never truly seen for yourself why he’s considered so terrible. Is he not just a glorified water spout? Compared to a Kraken and an Incubus, surely his damage isn’t so grand to be warranted as the biggest beast to hunt.

“You’ll always be welcomed in my castle, you would not be short of accommodations either.” his hand rests upon your waist, pulling you closer than need be. His invasion of personal space is akin to a parasite leeching off its host, but you let him feed of you. Whether it’s from fear or a bond, you’re not decided.

Your movements are sluggish at best, but you can still remember the basic steps in the dance, your foot sloppily setting itself down where it should be, the occasional step on stone happening once or twice though.

“Considering the current state it’s in… is that even safe for me to walk in…? It looks like one good shout and the bricks holding the place together will crumble apart…”

“That is just the disguise we give it, as to not alert others of our presence. For you though, I’m willing to make it stand out if it makes you happy.” The hand lying on your waist retracts itself as he takes his other clawed limb and twirls you around, falling back into position when the spin is done.

“… I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.” You know he’s not lying about that. You can distantly recall when a certain mystery monster had told you the tale of a longing dragon who perched himself at the opening of his window to wait for a certain hunter's return.

“Yes, he was so determined to be the first one to greet you, why he even stayed sat at the window for 5 months. It was quite endearing hehe.”

“Doesn’t it take hundreds of years for you to erode? Maybe it’ll take me 50 years to decide, by then I’ll be old and grey and you’ll be perfectly fine.” You take a step forward before the gargoyle's grip on your body tightens significantly, shrieking when he suddenly dips you down unprepared.

His freed hand takes your other arm and lifts it up to rest on his shoulder. Green sparkles are faintly flying around his lips as he slowly leans into the soft skin on your arm. His face leans in and presses chaste kisses on your limb, the gentle texture of his mouth catching you off guard as it tickles your body. Now you get it, he must’ve cast a spell to temporarily soften his lips.

He had attempted to kiss you once without taking this precaution, in turn, you gave him a face filled with discomfort at the stone texture that kept peppering you.

You can still remember the hurt face he had on when he saw your dislike towards his affections.

On his ninth kiss, his forked tongue peeks out from his mouth, licking a stripe up your skin. He finally lifts you up after the assault on your arm, his face only a few inches away from your own. It would’ve been quite the romantic atmosphere, had your nose not catch a sharp smell, and a horrible wretched one at that.

“You could be on your last breath and I’d still wait for an answer. But I hope that won’t happen.”

“Who knows, I work a dangerous job.” what is it?

The both of you twirl in unison despite the lack of music, your bodies in tandem as they move to just the sound of your surroundings. Though, your body is a little more sluggish than his own.

That stench… Is too familiar.

Eventually, your last steps fade out as you stop in your tracks.

“Is something wrong dear hunter?” Your grip on his shoulder fastens, if he was human you’re sure you would’ve broken his shoulder.

“What did you do?”

A smile is lit on his lips, his head tilting to the side, giving you such an innocent look, like he did nothing wrong.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“The smell… Iron… This whole time I thought it was just the smell of the forest. But…” You swiftly pull a dagger out from your side, throwing it past his shoulder, the tip of the steel piercing into what sounded like wood.

He doesn’t turn back, only continuing to smile at you, as if you’re the only existing thing here, or more accurately, the only thing he cares about.

The bark of the trunk splits in half, falling to the ground, revealing the source of the stench. The top of the tree isn’t green, it’s red and brown.

4 pairs of hands stick from the leaves.

“You… What did you do Malleus–?!“ he’s quick to twirl you again, his grip on you tighter than it’s ever been. Despite your protests, he continues dancing as if you hadn’t seen anything.

You’re suddenly stricken with the memory of your first meeting with the beast, blood coating his mouth when he looked at you, pure admiration when he had finally met the muse everyone spoke so dearly of.

“Malleus, you—!“

“Tell me, dear human, was it not you who spared me?” He dips you down. “Was it not you who saw a beaten beast and allowed him to live?” He lifts you up. “Even as you walked away with a piece of stone you let go of one who’s rendered thousands over the years,” he pulls you in. “Dead” every action with your body is harsh, but not enough to hurt you, never enough to hurt you.

Because why would he ever wish to harm you?

He’d much rather smother you in affection, even when you’re exerting all your energy to kill him as he hugs you.

“It’s because you…”

“Looked so human?” He continues to keep you close, impossibly so, your skin melting into his, not from fawness, but fear.

“How did you know-“

“You’ve spared so many of us because we made you feel something in the moment,” he must be referring to everyone else… The look you gave him is dazed, caught up in the thought of every other monster you let get away. His fingers cage your chin in between them. “But don’t forget what we are.” Sparkles fly, temporarily blinding you.

When you open your vision, you’re greeted by the sight of Malleus, with the appearance of what he looked like if he was human, or at least similar to a human.

His skin isn’t rough and solid, his breaths are warm, and his hair is soft and pretty rather than a soft moss.

His eyes are a nice green, a pretty green. A color you would’ve enjoyed more had he been a human. Such a lively color shouldn’t be backdropped by crimson, yet, it is.

Behind him, several other trees collapse on themself, revealing the other tops, the same as the tree you had just seen. Views of stray limbs and vaguely familiar faces of hunters invade your mind, panic setting as you finally realize a question you should’ve asked long ago…

Why was Malleus so far from his castle?

Before you can react, your ears hear a faint whisper, eyes going heavy as little pings of thorns claw at your shoes. The last thing you see and feel, is his face leaning towards you, his finger loosening itself from your chin.

In a blink of an eye, he’s no longer the human you spared, but the monster you let escape back into the wild.

The fiendish of smiles is graced on his lips. Not because of evil, but because his smile, is so love stricken.

All because of you.

“Seems the little birdy fled the nest without permission.” Your eyes slowly flutter open, the familiar figure of a man bowing on top of you. “Now, I’ll forgive you as we weren’t expecting such a beast to appear-“

He’s immediately cut off in his sentence when a searing pain cuts through his chin.

“Augh—! How could you kick me after I spent precious time searching for you!“

“You’re the reason I’m here in the first place…!“

“I didn’t do anything!“ Despite your annoyance towards Crowley and all he stands for in your life, you can’t deny if someone had seen this scene play out in front of them, they would assume you two to be a father and his bickering child.

You attempt to stand to your full height, faltering at the pings of pain in your ankle. You suck in a breath, looking down as you nurse hurt skin.

There are briar thorns wrapped around your leg, a single rose adorning the stems, and a gentle green hue that contrasts the pure black of the floral life.

“Oh my, what were you doing last night?”

“… Night?”

“You’ve been gone for 36 hours my birdie.”

You don’t feel any different… Save for the prickle of thorns and fresh bite on your arm.

… Fresh bite?

Despite the indent, it doesn’t hurt, it’s like, he left it there as a reminder of your failures, at least to you. It could very well be his way of staking his claim on your heart.

“It’s a shame you didn’t get him when you could’ve, with your connections, you could’ve spared us a huge loss today…” you’re cruelly reminded of the people that lay to waste hidden in the trees. “We should let today serve as a reminder of what you must do.”

Crowley doesn’t look happy at the sight of so many employees who failed their jobs, yet he doesn’t look grieved either.

You… Truly, you wish you weren’t so softhearted during your missions. Maybe then, this could’ve all been avoided.

A/n: Like I said, this piece was from so long a goo, so i’m so sorry if the plot isn’t to anyone liking, but if it is, i’m happy you enjoyed it!!

[moonchild9350]

Heart of Ice

Summary: you set off on an errand on behalf of your father to the land of the giants, where you meet Chan, the king of the giants.

Pairing: Giant Chan x fab demi goddess reader

Genre: mythology au, smut, straight filth lol

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: violence (battle scenes), use of swords/knives/bow and arrows, and magic, decapitation, blood, use of aphrodisiacs, p in v penetration, creampie (don’t), squirting, fingering, oral sex (f & mreceiving), mirror sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink, dirty talk, dom Chan dynamics- I think that’s it omg lol

Notes: I’m a nerd for mythology and add Chan to the mix, yes please! Just another fic to take a break from spooktober.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

You were exhausted. That was the best way to describe how you felt.

You looked back at the direction you just came from, the rocky waters slapping against the bank, taunting and mocking you at the trial it just made you face. The river Iving separated Asgard from Jotunheim, the journey long and treacherous.

You came from Asgard, the land of the gods, to obtain an item from Chan, the king of the giants here in Jotunheim. Being from the lineage of Odin, it was expected that the journey would be relatively easy, however, it has been anything but. It may have been for someone of deity lineage from both sides, but you were born of god lineage but also human, making you a lesser being than most of the inhabitants of the realm.

You are unsure as to why your father sent you on this errand, especially by yourself, but he insisted that you could do it, so you could prove your worth to him. And the latter is something you have been trying to achieve your whole life.

Sighing, you lifted your head up and took in the wasteland in front of you. It was dreary and dark, the wind howling nonstop, its cold embrace wrapping around you. There were mountains in the distance, big and rocky, their stance intimidating to anyone who lays eyes on it.

There were no animals or creatures in sight, although you knew that could change at any given moment, this realm being home to the nastiest, aggressive beings.

You could see your breath in front of you, as it was ice cold, probably below zero. Thankfully, you were bundled up in your furs, made especially for you by your mother for the journey.

Ensuring your knife, sword, and bow were properly stored and your pouch was still on your hip, you began your journey once more. This time to the large castle at the other end of the land.

You could see it in the distance, beyond the Jormun Sea, the rocky structure encased in ice amongst the mountain side. There resided Chan, a cunning giant who was supposedly awaiting you.

You started to walk, the sound of crunching heard as you stepped on the ice below. Snow and ice blanketed the land which would have been dangerous for the average person, but thanks to your specialized snow shoes, navigating the icy tundra was relatively easy.

The beginning of your journey was uneventful, which was suspicious, your hand ready to draw your sword at a moments notice. Up ahead a body of water came into view, the waves lapping at the beach softly, so unlike the harsh wind that was steadily blowing.

You stopped at the edge and peered in. The water was black as obsidian, what lies beneath obscured by the darkness. Every now and then the water would ripple, most likely from some sea creature beneath the surface.

Looking up, you peered into the distance, seeing the expanse of the sea. It would take you a while to clear it, your destination located on the other side. Time was of the essence, as you didn’t want to keep the king waiting, therefore, you continued to walk, shielding your face from the wind.

The land was peaceful, no sound being heard except for the waves hitting rocks and the wind. However, peace didn’t last long. As you rounded a corner of the sea, the ground began to ripple. You stopped in your tracks, grabbed your sword, and assumed position.

The earth trembled and split, a creature emerging from the dirt, dust and rocks spewing from the ground. It rose from its home, arching its back, grasping a sword in hand, a growl rippling from its mouth. As the creature stood upright, you gasped taking in its bony form, with metal plates along its shoulders and chest. Its eyes seemed to glow a ruby red, peering at you in disdain.

You knew what they were, a sub type of dwarf called a draugr. They were cruel and vicious unlike the dwarfs present back in Asgard. Gripping your sword tighter, you charged at the creature, raising your sword above your head as you came upon it. A loud clang rose through the air as your sword had collided with the creature.

You grunted as you were pushed back from the force of the impact, causing you to stumble and almost drop your sword. However, you had no time to rest as the draugr charged at you again, showing no mercy towards you. Sword against sword met again and again, sparks flying from the contact as you battled the creature.

Little by little you whittled away at it until an opening appeared, one in which you could finally eliminate it. You kept your eye on your target and charged, swinging back your sword with a loud cry. As your voice echoed across the frozen tundra, you swung your sword fast and true, the edge of your blade landing and cutting through the tough skin of its neck. You continued to push through until the draugr’s head was completely severed from its body. It hit the icy ground with a thud, dark liquid oozing from the opening.

The body dropped and then started to materialize, until all that was left was the stained ground. You rested upon your sword, attempting to catch your breath. You were in for it surely if all of the creatures you would meet are as tough as this one.

Once rested enough, you sheathed your sword and began to walk. Every few feet you encountered more draugr, the battle against them long and drawn out. Your sword was stained, the dark liquid coating the blade.

You were beginning to feel wary, your body getting tired after many fights, so you decided to stop and rest for a while. The only problem was finding a space safe enough to rest.

Looking around, you spotted an area that seemed as good as any. You thankfully did not run into any more enemies. Your rest area wasn’t much, your bed consisting of your cloak, as there were no trees in sight to rest against. There was nothing to make a fire with, so you pulled your legs to your chest and buried your head, trying to keep warm.

You were in and out of sleep, trying to stay alert but rest as well. There was no way to tell if it was night or day, the sun always present in the sky.

You were drifting off to sleep again when you felt the earth tremble beneath you, causing you to jerk awake. You hurriedly stood up and grabbed your sword, eyes trained to the ground for what you assumed was more draugr.

However, you noticed that each rumble was rhythmic, almost as if someone was walking your way. Your eyes scanned the vast tundra, eyeing the sea until you saw a large figure slowly emerge from the fog.

A large man was coming your way, a giant by the looks of it. He was about ten feet tall, standing so tall it looked as if the top of his head touched the sky. His skin was pale, with a bluish glow, his body muscular. His hair was disheveled, the black mop adorning the top of his head. He had a simple cloth tied low on his hips.

You were terrified, not sure how you could defeat such a being. You were coming up with a battle plan when the giant approached, his black eyes staring down at you. You were frozen on the spot, your sword raised in front of you.

The giant made a sound, a laugh by the sound of it as he plucked your sword from your hands and tossed it to the side. Your eyes followed the trajectory of the sword, watching as it clattered against the icy ground a ways from you. You slowly turned your head to look at the giant before you once more.

Your eyes traveled from his muscular legs, up, up, up, until you noticed something large behind the cloth on his hips. You were shocked, but a little part of you were turned on, knowing exactly what was beneath as the shape gave it away.

You weren’t innocent, not by far, living in Asgard made you that way, and your body was more than ready to accommodate what he had to offer. At the thought, you clenched your thighs together as you felt them dampen, your slick trickling out, as you weren’t wearing any panties.

The giant smirked at you, as if he could read your mind. With a swipe of his hand, he dropped the cloth, baring all that was underneath. His cock was long and girthy, various ridges along the shaft with a prominent vein on the underside, leading up to a mushroom head that was red and angry, copious amounts of pre-cum leaking from tip. It sat proudly against his abdomen, the beautiful shade of red a sharp contrast to his pale skin.

You gulped as he took two steps toward you, the ground shaking as a result. He kneeled on the cold ground, so he could be on your level and closer to you. You watched as he spun you around and bent you over, pushing your face down to rest on the cloak below.

You whimpered as you felt the giant lift up skirt, the heavy furs adding more weight to your back. You could feel your arousal leak out even more as your face was pushed further into the ground, therefore causing you to present yourself to the giant behind you.

You waited in anticipation, your breath coming out in puffs, as you felt the tip of his cock brush against you, parting your lips to slide between the puffy flesh. You thought you would feel scared, never having been penetrated by such a large cock, however you were ready, needing to feel stretched and filled to the brim.

Without warning, you felt his cock breach your entrance, a loud moan escaping you as your walls were stretched. You felt slight pain but more pleasure than anything as he continued to push inch by inch in, until he was flush against your ass.

With a loud grunt, the giant gripped your hips and began to piston his cock into you, the sound of flesh slapping flesh reverberating throughout the vast land. You felt like you were being speared open as you took his cock, whines and moans steadily falling from your lips. The ridges and veins lining his cock rubbed against your walls perfectly, sending waves of pleasure radiating into your core.

You were dripping, your arousal coating your folds, your thighs, his cock and your sure your cloak as well. He gripped your hips harder, his large fingers digging into your skin to where you’re sure bruises will form. He angled his body a little to where he could reach deeper, his cock hitting that spongy spot within you as the tip bullied your cervix with each thrust.

You mewled out as you felt a tightening within you, like a band that was about to snap, growing larger and more intense by the second. The giant behind you began to grunt with each thrust, the sound reaching a crescendo until he roared, holding his hips flush to yours as copious amounts of his warm cum filled your walls.

With his release you let go, squirting your release, the force of your high attempting to force his cock out. The giant continued to hold you flush against him as you could still feel his release, pumping more into your little hole.

Finally, you felt him release you as he withdrew his cock, the sudden emptiness causing you to let out a whine. Both his and your release was gushing from your entrance, creating a puddle on your ruined cloak.

Slowly you pushed yourself up off the ground, turning to see the giant once more. However, by the time you were able to face him, he was already clothed and walking away, each step causing the earth to tremble below you.

You watched in shock, as the giant who just came upon you disappeared into the fog, the only thing alerting you he was still relatively close by being the sound of his footsteps.

You were still dripping, the last of the giant’s cum seeping out of your pussy. You carefully got up, trying to avoid the puddle on your cloak. You were sad it was ruined, the article of clothing being a gift from your grandmother.

Sighing you got up and bundled the cloth. Unsure what to do with it, you decided to leave it in a small divot that was created in the ice.

You picked up your weapons and donned them once more before taking off in the direction of the castle. You encountered a few more draugr, the battle being easier now that you knew how to fight them. You slowly left the Jorman sea behind, the vast body of water getting smaller with each step.

It wasn’t long before you came across your next obstacle, the frozen forest. The trees were all frozen solid, the icy blue shining with the rays of sun that would peak out every now and then.

You nodded and began your journey into the forest, making your way in between trees. The air felt colder, the cold finding its way past your furs and to your bones. The wind whipped around you, making it difficult to walk, and to add insult to injury snow began to fall.

The further you walked, the harder it fell, the stronger the wind became until you couldn’t see anything in front of you. You shielded your eyes as best as possible, and marched on, putting one foot in front of the other.

Your journey was slow, as you made your way through the forest. There was no one in your path, the way clear, that is until you ran into something hard, causing you to jump back, drawing your sword in the process.

You squinted into the snow storm to see what you ran into. What you saw caused you to gasp. You looked all around you, your eyes wide. There were people, hundreds of them, frozen in time, encased in an ice prison. The person in front of you stared straight ahead, almost as though it was trying to look through you. This one seemed to be a woman, clothed in a fur top and skirt. Their eyes were piercing yet gentle, the hair framing their face wiry and wild.

Timidly, you reached out a hand, your fingertips coming in contact with the icy prison. Slowly, you traced the outline of the woman, your eyes trailing her body in awe. How did these people get trapped here? How long have they been trapped?

Your heart sank at the their fate, especially as you noticed there were children frozen as well. You really needed to keep moving, the cold setting in during your inactivity. Carefully, you stepped around the frozen statue and continued on your journey, this time more aware as to what was in front of you.

The forest was large, the expanse of bodies never-ending, causing you to slow down as you weaved your way through them. The only other creatures you encountered were snow rabbits, the little furry creatures hopping away in a hurry at the sound of your disturbance.

You were able to shoot one down with your bow and arrow, effectively skinning the creature and roasting it over a makeshift fire to fill your empty stomach. After eating your fill, you doused the fire and continued on your way. You had hopes that you were almost through the forest when you heard a loud crack, the sound echoing throughout the forest.

You stopped in your tracks, scanning the landscape in front of you, searching for anyone or anything. It was quiet as the wind had stopped howling, the snow all but gone. You had a bad feeling deep down at the sudden change in atmosphere.

Quietly and swiftly, you reached for your bow, notching an arrow and aiming it at the ready. Your eyes slowly raked over your surroundings, your breath slow and steady. Another crack rang out, this time right in front of you.

There was a frozen statue in front of you, however, this time there was a long crack present from the head all the way down to the right foot. You stared in horror as the person moved within, a twitch here, a twitch there, the sound of ice cracking ever louder.

With your next breath, the ice shattered into a million pieces, scattering everywhere, the person beneath focusing their eyes on you. They seemed to have changed after breaking out of their icy prison, with electric blue eyes that stared wide open, never blinking, their skin outfitted with a blue glow. You gripped your bow tighter as the ice figure let out a piercing scream, the sound ricochetting off the other statues, causing them to crack.

Within moments, you were surrounded by a horde of townspeople, their eyes full of vengeance and set solely on you. You began to fire away, arrow after arrow skillfully flying through the air, the sharp edges piercing the bodies running towards you.

You were constantly on the move, switching directions at a moments notice as they came from all sides, their arms reaching out in the effort to try and grab you. You were trying to regulate your breathing as you made your way through the horde, so as not to run out of breath. Things were going according to plan until you tripped over a branch on the ground, your knees hitting the solid ground with a loud crunch.

You yelped in pain, rolling onto your bottom, trying to ignore the pain that shot down your legs. There was a tingling sensation that slowly built up, making you feel like you were being stabbed with a million tiny, sharp needles. Through the pain, you tried to focus on killing more creatures, as they took advantage of your moment of weakness.

You fired an arrow at a man running towards you, a sneer on his face, the arrow hitting home right in his chest. He collapsed on the spot, causing a few other creatures to trip over him, their bodies falling to the ground like dominos.

That didn’t stop them however from pursuing you as they began to crawl towards you, quicker than you would have expected. You reached into your quiver for another arrow, but stopped as your hand reached into an empty space. You let out a tsk as you realized you were out of arrows.

Quickly, you tossed your bow aside and grabbed your knife, stabbing the creature that had taken ahold of your foot, cold seeping onto your skin from their grip. They let out a piercing shriek as you twisted the blade for good measure, as they collapsed on their side.

You were able to take care of a few more before you scrambled to your feet, your legs from the knee down radiating in pain. You took a deep breath and willed yourself to ignore the pain and withdrew your sword, ready to take on the next group running full speed towards you.

You concentrated on the battle in front of you, the only sounds heard in the dense forest were your grunts and the clash of steel on a frozen body. Sparks flew haphazardly as your sword made contact with creature after creature, the orange glow lighting up the dim area.

You were grazed a few times, the creatures nails digging into your arms and legs as they tried to get to you, their crazed eyes never wavering from your dancing form. The end was near, as you saw only a handful of creatures left.

You decided to try and decapitate a group at once, squatting and spinning at the right moment, to swing your blade outwards, the steel meeting flesh, severing the legs from the bodies. They collapsed to the ground, as blood stained the white earth. You recovered from your attack, your arm out and posed to hold you up while you took in the last of the creatures.

Standing up, you walked towards your first victim and raised your blade above your head, bringing the sword down with force, piercing the creature straight through the heart. You repeated the motion again and again, effectively getting rid of the last of the threat.

After piercing the last creature, you pulled your blade up and out and collapsed on your hands and knees. You were breathing heavy, your warm breath meeting the cold air causing smoke to drift from your mouth. Your ears were ringing, vision blurry, and your body was aching from the gruesome battle you had just engaged in.

If you weren’t of half god lineage, you would have perished at the beginning of the fight, this you were sure of. You took a moment more to recover before pushing yourself up and off the ground. You looked around to survey the damage, your eyes noticing the mass amount of bodies littering the ground.

What once was a forest full of people, encapsulated in ice, was now bare, not a statue in sight. You let out a huff before you started to hunt for your bow. Walking over towards a pile of corpses, you found it lying on the ground still intact. Picking it up, you gave it a once over before storing it once more.

You were about to turn away when you noticed something glimmer beneath the bodies, causing you to stop in your tracks. You pushed a few corpses away to uncover the source of the light. Lying in the pouch on a corpse were three round orbs, swirls of color dancing around within.

These were magic orbs, highly sought after items, at least in Asgard, and here were three right at your fingertips. From the looks of it, these seemed to be of fire magic, which seemed perfect for the realm you were in. Gently, you extracted them from the pouch and began to pocket them, hoping they may come in handy at some point in your journey.

Satisfied that they were safely stored, you began to walk, wanting to get out of this forest as soon as possible. You walked past body after body, trying not walk on the remains of your battle.

You were almost out of the woods when you heard another crack, the sound loud and echoing off the little trees that were present. Your eyes quickly scanned your surroundings, trying to find the source of the noise. As you were searching, you noticed what seemed like a large boulder off to the side.

Cautiously, you walked toward it, drawing your sword on the way. You were about one hundred feet away when you saw that it was not a boulder at all, but an ice elemental, curled up to look as if it was sleeping.

You cursed under your breath and began to place one foot behind you, again and again as you tried to back away from the monster. If you could avoid it, you’d love to not have to fight one of these monstrosities.

You were making good progress until your foot came down on a twig, the little stick snapping under the pressure of your foot. The sound radiated loud and clear, causing you to pause in your tracks, your eyes trained on the elemental.

You thought you were in the clear, the monster not hearing your mishap, however, you felt the ground shake again, this time, much stronger. Looking up, you watched the elemental unfurled from his sleeping position and stand. You craned your neck as it stood tall, towering way over you, its eyes red and piercing, a scowl on its face.

You watched in terror as it let out a roar, clutching its icy hands into a ball before it charged at you, shards of ice chipping off of its feet as it hurtled towards you.

You quickly dodged out of its way, completing a 180 before facing it again. With a roar you ran towards it, striking it with your sword, sparks flying as metal met ice. The elemental roared, throwing its head back with rage. You swung your sword multiple times, trying to incur as much damage as you could on the fiend.

As you recovered, you screeched as its hand reached out for you, scratching you in the process, digging a deep gash into your arm. You winched in pain, watching as blood seeped from the wound, painting the ground below you red.

You had no time to stop the bleeding and kept fighting, dodging and diving, swinging and thrusting your sword. Little by little you chipped at the elemental, wondering if you were doing any good. You were starting to get tired, your muscles aching with each swing, your breath coming out in rapid pants.

You were about to run for it when you remembered the magic orbs, tucked away in your pouch. You quickly grabbed one and hurled it at the monster, straight for its heart. The orb clashed with the ice, exploding into fiery flames, causing a chunk of the ice elemental’s chest to melt.

You did a silent cheer, watching the smoke rise to the sky as the monster stood paralyzed for a moment. You took that opportunity to chip away at its legs, swinging your sword with all your might. The elemental definitely took some damage as it staggered around, its large feet creating large craters in the ground as it stomped around.

You didn’t let it recover, reaching for another magic orb, tossing it this time at its head, the orb hitting it square in the face. It wasn’t able to cry out, as its mouth was blown off, ice shards melting with each second. You looked over the monster, searching for its core. You saw something shimmer within the hole the first magic orb created. You kept an eye on the light as you charged, and at the last second pushed off your legs allowing you to leap into the air.

You posed your sword to strike, driving the metal straight into the green, shimmering crystal that represented its core, its life line. Once your sword pierced through, the crystal shattered into a tiny pieces, the quickly light fading out.

You landed gracefully on your feet, your fingertips touching the ground to stabilize yourself. You lifted your head up to watch the ice elemental stagger drunkenly before collapsing on its side, falling and cracking the ground below.

You remained in your stance, your chest heaving, as you struggled to breathe . Your arm was steadily bleeding, the crimson red dripping down your arm, mixing with the dark maroon of blood since dried. You took a few moments more before standing up, using your sword as a crutch.

As you looked ahead, a castle popped into view, that was most definitely not there before your battle with the elemental. You smiled and started to head towards it, your gait a limp after fighting all day. You kept your head up, dragging your sword along the ice as you got closer and closer to the castle.

You looked up at the gray, stone building, the exteriors cold and uninviting. You hoped the king would welcome you, as you were tired and in need of care. Stepping up to the door, you looked up, noticing how tall it was. Definitely big enough for a giant.

Raising your hand, you knocked on the door, and waited with bated breath. You heard footsteps on the other side, their echo getting louder and louder with each step until they stopped right in front of you.

The large door opened, the inside of the castle being revealed bit by bit. Standing in front of you was a man, one that seemed to be your size, definitely not a giant like the one that was supposed to be living here. The man stared at you, disgust on his face as he took in your appearance.

You’re sure you looked a mess, as your hair was disheveled, your clothes ripped, bruises littered all over your skin, the wound on your arm bleeding through the makeshift bandage you placed on it. But all of that didn’t matter, you had made it this far and he was going to let you in if you had any say.

“Hi, my name is y/n. I was sent here by my father Odin to talk to Chan.”

At the mention of your purpose there, the man’s face changed from one of disgust to recognition. “Of course, of course, y/n. We’ve been expecting you, please come in.”

The man shuffled out of the way, gesturing for you to come in. You nodded and stepped over the threshold, your eyes wandering the room. It was dark and gloomy, the walls made out of gray stone, torches were lit to show the way. The furniture that was present was huge, befit for a giant.

“Right this way,” the man said, ushering you further into the building.

You followed him, down the hall and up some stairs, until you reached a large door.

“Wait here please,” he said as he cracked the door open and slipped inside.

You stood there waiting, your ears trained to hear whatever was being said within the four walls. You could hear mumbled voices, but couldn’t quite make out the words that was being said. You were about to lean your ear against the door, that is until the door creaked open, the man stepping out and into the hall again.

“Chan wants you to rest and refresh yourself after your difficult journey, he’ll meet with you afterwards.”

You were thankful for this, as you didn’t want to meet with a king feeling and looking as dirty as you were. The man led you further down the hall, stopping in front of another large door.

“This will be your quarters,” he said pushing the door open for you. “A bath has been prepared. The maids will help you in the meantime.”

You thanked the man as he gave you a little bow and stepped into the room. There was a faint aroma permeating the room, the scent of lavender tickling your nose. You gravitated towards the scent, your body finally catching up to the fatigue you felt.

You came to the bathroom, a large tub filled to the brim with bubbles, and multiple women who you assumed were the maids waiting for you.

They curtsied for you and then rushed to your side, ushering you to the center of the room. They started to mutter in a language you didn’t understand, as they reached for your ruined clothes. You blushed as they stripped you completely down. Once undressed, they motion for you to get into the tub.

You carefully stepped one leg in, the warm water caressing your thigh before stepping in with the other. You slowly sat down, savoring the feel of the water against your skin. Once settled, the women began to scrub you down, taking care to be mindful of your scrapes and bruises. They left no part of your body untouched, their hands reaching everywhere in order to clean you.

You had no choice but to sit back at the mercy of their hands as you listened to them chatter. They occasionally smiled at you, cooing at your beauty before getting back to work. They seemed very happy, smiles constantly on their faces.

Once they were done washing you, they helped you out of the tub and dried you down with a towel, their hands gently massaging the fabric over your skin. They applied a sweet oil to your body, the floral scent pleasant to the senses as it was not too much but perfect against the heat of your skin. They brought out a white dress and slipped it over your head, tying the string in the back.

It was a beautiful dress, making you seem like you were glowing. It was cinched underneath your breasts, causing them to overflow perfectly at the top. They brushed your hair, leaving the wavy strands to flow down your back. After they were done, they ushered you to the large mirror in your bedroom and had you take a look.

You almost didn’t recognize yourself, used to the furs that were customary for a girl like you back in your realm. You smiled at your appearance as you felt very beautiful. Turning around, you thanked the maids who smiled back in return.

One of the maids walked over to you, a cup in her hand. She handed it to you and said, “for you m’lady. Our new queen. A tonic for tonight.”

Wait, new queen? Your smile faltered as you looked at the lady, confusion on your face.

“Yes, yes, new queen, you are Chan’s wife.”

You were in disbelief. Your father sold you out, sold you to the king of the giants without consulting you. The thought hurt your heart, that he couldn’t tell you at least, but your father is Odin after all. He doesn’t discuss his decisions with anyone. Accepting your fate, you took the cup from the lady, and brought it to your lips, drinking the warm liquid.

It went down easy, the flavor odd but not unpleasant. Once the cup was drained, you handed it back to the maid who curtsied and hurried off, the others right behind her.

You stared after them until the door shut behind the last of them. What were you to do now?

You decided to walk to the window and look out at the vast expanse of icy wasteland. This was your home now you supposed. You wondered what Chan looked like, the other giant you…encountered crossing your mind. Your pussy clenched in remembrance, how he dominated you, held you down and had his way with you. How primitive it felt.

You felt yourself getting hot, your heart rate increasing at the thought. You shifted your thighs against each other, seeking friction as your pussy fluttered, your slick trickling out and onto your thighs.

You felt weird, but in a good way, the only thing on your mind to be filled, bred until you couldn’t walk anymore. You continued to shift your thighs together, your breaths coming out as pants. You were about to reach your fingers under your dress when the door slammed open, and a giant walked in.

You turned to look at the intruder, your cheeks flushed in your heat, your breasts raising and falling as you took each breath. Your eyes widened in recognition, the giant before you being the one who you encountered by the sea. So this was Chan, the king of the giants, and now your husband.

He stared down at you, a smile on his face. He stalked toward you, and stopped in front of the mirror, beckoning you forward. You all but ran to him, craning your head up to look at him. He was beautiful, even for a giant. You were able to get a good look at his face now, noticing that he had a chiseled face, and large, pouty lips. His eyes were big and round, as they took you in.

He turned you around, having you face the mirror. His hands graced your thighs, slowly dragging up your sides, your belly until he reached your breast, his large hands cupping the flesh. Your breath hitched as you watched, feeling him massage your breasts, his large fingers pinching your nipples causing you to loudly moan.

“So beautiful,” Chan said, his voice low but clear.

He slowly pushed the straps of your dress down, the material sliding down your body before pooling at your feet. You gasped as you took in your reflection. The inside of your thighs were glistening, coated in a sheen of your arousal that was steadily dripping from your pussy.

Chan smirked, as he brought a hand to your folds and shoved a finger between them. He dragged his finger through your slick before pressing the digit against your clit, your knees all but giving out at his touch.

You gripped his thick arms in support as he teased the bud, his finger flicking left, right, circling up and down. You were a mess, your moans echoing in the dimly lit room. You felt more sensitive than usual, your mind hazy as you came without warning on Chan’s fingers, soaking the digits with your release.

You couldn’t believe you came so fast, heat rising to your cheeks in arousal and embarrassment. You looked up at Chan through the mirror, watching as he dropped the cloth around his hips.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, remembering how big he was. Your mouth drooled at the sight of the copious amount of precum leaking from his tip, the liquid dripping down his long shaft and into the pubic hair lining the base of his cock.

You needed to be filled by him and you needed it now.

Chan could read your thoughts, seeing the effect the aphrodisiac had on you. You were insatiable, needy, your body language giving it away, as you pleaded with your eyes to take you.

He would take care of you not to worry and breed you full with his cum. Chan reached down and picked you up by your thighs, spreading your legs effectively so your dripping pussy was on display.

You yelped at the action, the floor getting further away as he lifted you higher and shifted his grip on you.

“My sweet, my precious,” Chan said before bringing you down on his cock, the tip spreading you open as he lowered you inch by inch down his length.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, as Chan speared you open on his cock, your eyes wide, watching in the mirror as your pussy sucked him in. Your entrance stretched so perfectly around him, holding him snug in place, almost as if it were welcoming him home.

You both groaned as he began to slide you up and down his cock, treating you like his own personal fleshlight. Your pussy squelched with each thrust, as your slick poured out of your entrance, the sinful noise echoing within the chamber.

Your threw your head back, resting on his chest as he continued to fuck you, your hands trying to find purchase on anything as he massaged your walls. His eyes were glued on you through the mirror, watching as your tits bounced, as his cock slid deeper and deeper each time he thrusted into you.

You were going to cum, the feeling creeping up on you quickly once again. You clenched down on his cock, letting out a moan as you let go, your walls spasming around him. Chan didn’t stop however, but continued to thrust up into you, his loud grunts vibrating against your head. You whimpered, feeling a overstimulated as Chan continued to spear you open, his grip tight on your thighs.

You were about to cry out when Chan let out a roar, loud enough that the whole castle would hear, and held you flush against his cock, his cum flooding your insides. You brought your eyes to the mirror, willing yourself to look at where you two were connected, watching as the thick substance ran down his cock and dripped down onto the floor.

“We’re not done yet,” Chan growled, walking you over to the large bed and throwing you down. With the withdrawal of his cock, both your fluids pooled onto the sheets, creating a large stain between your legs.

Chan shuffled closer to you and stopped at the edge of the bed, his hand pumping his cock while he stared down at you. You held eye contact with him, seeing him in all his glory, as his eyes pierced down at your small body. Your clit was throbbing and you still felt hot with need. You trailed your fingers down your belly, reaching down to play with your pussy, seeking to relieve the ache.

Chan watched as you pleasured yourself, his cock filling out again.

“Come here little one,” Chan cooed, beckoning you closer.

He grasped his cock and brought it to your mouth, the tip larger than your lips combined. He looked at you expectantly, his eyebrow raised as you looked at him with doe eyes.

“Suck,” he said, tapping his cock on your lips a few times.

You timidly opened your mouth as he placed the tip on your tongue, his precum coating the muscle. You were barely able to wrap your lips over the appendage, your mouth stretching to accommodate his length.

Chan smiled as he grabbed either side of your head, holding you against him before he began to thrust his hips, fucking his cock within your warm, wet mouth. You looked up at him, tears forming in your eyes as his tip kissed the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him.

Spit was dripping down the side of your mouth as you tried to keep up in time with his thrusts. Your breathing was shallow as his cock filled your mouth, the head of his cock blocking your airway, causing you to breathe through your nose. The lack of oxygen just made you throb even more, causing you walls to clamp around nothing. You moaned around his length, the vibrations causing Chan to growl, as he gripped your hair harder.

Obscene noises echoed off the walls as he fucked your mouth, tears steadily flowing from your eyes now at the onslaught. Your arousal was steadily dripping from your pussy, a string of the fluid leaking from your entrance, threatening to fall to the sheets below.

Your pussy pulsed, your clit ached, needing to be touched. You snaked your hand down to your pussy, intending to give some relief to your aching bud, but stopped immediately when Chan growled, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Naughty girl, no touching. Just take my cock,” he grunted. His thrust became more erratic, signaling he was close.

You silently rejoiced as your mouth started to ache from his cock repeatedly ramming into the back of your throat. Despite this, you were more turned on than ever at the feeling of being used by Chan.

Chan thrusted into your mouth hard once more before stilling, holding you against him, as his cum flooded your mouth, drops falling from the corners, dripping down your face, neck, and settling on your breasts. Once Chan came down from his high, he withdrew his cock and looked down at you, his hand reaching out to hold your chin.

“Look at you, completely ruined. So beautiful my love.” He gently stroked your chin, wiping some cum that was at the corner of your mouth. “Let me return the favor yeah?”

You looked up at Chan with lust filled eyes, dried tears on your cheeks, your face stained with his cum. Your body trembled at the promise, your pussy clenching in anticipation to be filled. You quickly shook your head, begging for him to take you and mark you however he wanted.

He smirked as he pushed you onto your back, your body bouncing slightly on the soft sheets. Chan lifted your legs, spreading and tucking them to your chest. Without a moment’s hesitation, he buried his face in your pussy, his tongue licking between your folds.

You squealed at the sudden attack, your hands gripping the sheets as he moaned and licked up your slick. He sucked your labia between his lips before pushing his tongue into your hole, savoring your taste as it poured onto the muscle.

Chan held you still as he tongue fucked your pussy, your walls clamping down around him as he brought you closer to your high, his nose brushing up against your clit, causing pleasure with each nudge.

Your breaths were shallow, as you panted at the pleasure, a tingling feeling spreading throughout your pelvis and belly. You bit your lip, drawing blood as you thrusted your hips against his face, riding his tongue.

“So good,” you whined, gripping the sheets tighter as you continued to rock your hips.

With a grunt, Chan licked a long stripe to your clit before sucking the nub within his warm mouth, the feeling causing you to gasp and let out a shaky moan. He sucked hard and fast, the coil in your belly tightening, begging to be released.

He smacked his lips as he pressed a kiss to your clit before sucking it within his mouth again. His tongue darted out to flick your bundle of nerves, the pleasure quickly becoming too much. You let out a loud whimper, as you squirted your release on Chan’s face, his tongue darting out to lick up every last drop.

He licked you clean, his grip not loosening until he was satisfied. He lifted his head and smiled, your release dripping from his chin.

“I love your sweet nectar love, you taste so damn good.”

You moaned at his words, your fingers going to your nipples, your back arching as you squeezed the buds. Chan smiled as he shuffled higher up on the bed.

He stroked your thighs before spreading them wide so he could settle between them. You stared up at him, his cock standing proud against his abdomen, the tip angry and red. The demeanor in Chan’s eyes changed as he stared down at you, watching as you played with your breasts.

It seemed as if he was ready to devour you, as if he was ready to breed you. He gripped your thighs again, this time bringing them to rest on his shoulders. With a breath, he sheathed himself inside you, both of you moaning at the feel of each other.

You could never get used to the stretch, the sensation mixed with pain and pleasure. You stared at Chan, your mouth open as he continued to push into you, before withdrawing his cock and snapping his hips into yours again.

He began to pound into you, his cock bullying you deep within. You moaned as you creamed around his cock, the white ring forming around his length as he fucked you. Your body felt like it was in overdrive, as your toes curls and your thighs spasmed around Chan. Your pussy throbbed as Chan spared you no mercy. Your clit dragged against the coarse hair lining his pubic area, sending the all too familiar warm feeling throughout your body.

Chan leaned further over you, allowing him to reach deeper within you, the ridges on his cock brushing against your upper walls just right. He whispered sweet nothings to you, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your release hit you hard, your pussy spasming, trying to push him out with each rhythmic contraction.

“Na uh, love. Keep me in there. Gotta breed you love. Fill you up so good, you’ll have no choice but to carry my children.”

You mewled at the dirty talk, your mind empty as he continued to abuse your little hole. You felt that feeling build up within your core again, shock coursing through you at the fact you were about to cum again so soon.

“Fuck love, like you were made for me. You. Are. Mine.” He growled, accentuating each word with a thrust, before stilling, his cum painting your walls one last time.

Chan stayed buried within you, emptying every last drop of his cum, his eyes trained on your pussy, watching as the liquid seeped around his cock, down your ass, and pooled on the sheets.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, as he withdrew his cock from your hole, a flood of your release mixed with his gushing out.

“Shit love, we can’t have that can we? Gotta keep it in for me,” he cooed, taking a finger and gathering up he thick, white fluid, and stuffing it back in within your pussy.

You softly moaned at the intrusion, your energy spent. You finally started to feel normal again, the heat leaving your body, your heart rate slowing down. You felt like you could breathe once more as you took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air.

Chan smiled and got off the bed, the door to the room opening as the maids timidly shuffled into the room. They carefully helped you up and into the bath, while others stripped the bed of the soiled sheets, placing fresh ones on.

You were in a daze, as you slowly came down from the clouds, the fuzzy feeling slowly dissipating as you were bathed once more within the lavender bath. The maids helped you into another gown and helped you back into bed, Chan already waiting for you.

You snuggled into his large frame, your eyes drooping in exhaustion. Chan cradled you to him, his arms rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You decided in that moment, in your post coital brain, that you were happy to have taken this journey to another realm, to where you met Chan. Now you were queen, nobody being able to come after you, not even your father, Odin himself.

You quickly succumbed to sleep, your dreams filled with the future you and Chan would build together, feeling at peace at last.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @seungfl0wer @velvetmoonlght

[tamayakii]

Hi I read your post about yan!Tywin and that you have more inc*st headcanons about him and I’m interested if you’re cool with that 🫣

hehe thank you anon for giving me the chance to talk about this <3

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, incest, yandere themes, female!reader, nsfw, is it bare or bear, tama asks herself BY PROCEEDING PAST THIS WARNING, YOU ARE THEREFORE CONSENTING TO VIEW THIS CONTENT.

Being Tywin's pretty pretty girl, dressed in the finest of silks and jewelry, the lady of the rock from a young age.

Whilst, of course, you weren't married, people came to view you as Lady of the Rock, which ofc didnt help with Tywin's delusions.

Okay but listen, him HIDING your monthly bleed from the world. Threatening maids that if a slip of your monthly bleed comes out that they’d lose their eyes. So westeros comes to know you as a woman with no viable womb, right? that means you have no value in being married off cause you “can’t bear children” therefore you’d his, no one would fight for your hand.

Losing your virginity to Papa Tywin, riding the same cock that helped made you, imagine a little bit of blood seepin on his cock when he first thrusts into you 😭😭 the same blood that flows through him, smeared across his loins.

BUT IMAGINE PAPA TYWIN BRINGING YOU TO THE RED KEEP WHEN HES HAND OF THE KING :(( you can’t fuck more openly now, back his casterly rock he had more control but in the castle where the rodents kill the cats, it’s a death sentence to be found out.

THAT MAN SUCKS TITTY!! i just know it!! hes a rough one too, harshly sucking on his granddaughters tits whilst sitting at his desk, palming your hips as you grind against him.

For awhile he was reasonable, you couldn’t be with child, at least to the world but as his delusions deepen, he tampers with your moon tea, and practically locks you in your room.

You’re HIS alone, HE made you.

Any man that offers his hand to you is gone, any winning knight that names you the queen of love and beauty in tournaments is suddenly crippled for life.

Your entire LIFE is controlled by him, i cannot emphasize this enough. The very air you breathe might as well be permitted by him, your meals are controlled, you garden time- oh and the GARDEN WALKS!!! When Tywin has a little time to spare and you bat your eyelashes at him, he finds that he can stomach a walk around the beautiful flowers(tho they arent as beautiful as you), servants tending to the bushes and trees find that you cling a little too close, lips a little too pouted and breasts pushed against his arm a bit much but can they say a word? no.

[slugbeaker]

Some moments I enjoyed from ACOK that kind of further solidify how alienated from Ironborn culture Theon has become. We see it of course in the bigger moments like him just not enjoying any of the reaving he is originally assigned to do with Dagmer and Aeron. But there were two smaller moments that stood out to me too.

"The walls of Winterfell were behind him, but Ser Rodrik faced them squarely and could not fail to see. Theon watched his face. When his chin quivered under those stiff white whiskers, he knew just what the old man was seeing. 'He is not surprised,' he thought with sadness, 'but the fear is there.'"

Even in the midst of using Beth Cassel as leverage to prevent Ser Rodrik from attacking the castle, and after Theon has become a known child killer by all the north, he is still only able to feel sadness when his plan to use Beth works as planned and makes Ser Rodrik hesitate because he is hurt that they are not surprised he would do something like this. Theon has spent ten years of his life among the people of the north and Winterfell specifically and has always to some degree been looked at as a ticking time bomb of a threat, a boy they do not doubt will return to the Greyjoy way if given the chance. Theon has unfortunately proven them right and while that WAS his intent, to show his loyalty to his blood family and the Ironborn, all it has brought him is the realization that he hates to be viewed in this manner near as much he did being viewed a hostage. It excuses none of the more awful things he does in ACOK, but he really is the Prince of Being Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place in this book lol. Despite how hard he tries, Theon cannot commit to one lifestyle over the other and it leaves him with nothing. The other quote is when the Boltons come and slaughter Ser Rodrik and his men, 'saving' Theon and the Ironborn:

"The crows came in the blue dust, with the evening stars. "The Dothraki believe the stars are spirits of the valiant dead," Theon said. Maester Luwin had told him that, a long time ago.

"Dothraki?"

"The horselords across the narrow sea."

"Oh. Them." Black Lorren frowned through his beard. "Savages believe all manner of foolish things."

Theon tries to say, in his own way, some kind words for the dead that the Boltons are responsible for, these men who he used to serve with side by side. In his mind, words from a warrior culture similar but not the same to the Ironborn, where the dead may be remembered as stars, is probably another way he is trying to assuage his guilty conscience. These men are dead because of him after all. But this is not how an Ironborn is meant to react to violence and Black Lorren appears uncaring at best and put off at worst from Theon's attempt to eulogize these dead northmen. Also of course the irony of him considering the Dothraki savage people when to the rest of Westeros the Ironborn are VERY much considered savage as well.

This isn't even really a thought out analysis lol I just was struck by these moments on .y reread. Theon is....sensitive. And no matter how much he tries to shove that down, and no matter how awful he can be, and he CAN be, he cannot change that part of himself. He's not that guy. Hopefully coming to terms with that in the final two books is a part of his reclaiming his identity storyline.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Balerion bonded to bastard! Reader

~ In this Scenario, Balerion is still alive and breathing- albeit barely, and with little enthusiasm. He'd remain still in the sand, seafoam lapping at his scales, yet he feels little reason to move. He's old. Ancient, and tired. The rise and fall of his breath is gradual and laboured- slow like the moving tide. Ever since Viserys drew his last breath, Balerion felt as cold as the sea. His days of glory and war are memories grown old, and he is tired. He feels like sleeping forever now, listening to the faint call of seagulls and the noise of crashing tides.

~ Bastard! princess reader captures glimpses of him from her windows view, watching the old beast wither and fade upon the beach like he were a memory fizzling away into the seafoam. At first glimpse through the rain speckled glass pane- she had mistaken him for a large mountain of black rock.

~ now she's frightened, but, intrigued. She is still a child, a scared and desperate one, so she hatches a plan to reach the beach and perhaps ask the dragon nicely if he'd take her back home. (Besides, dragons do look scary, but Caraxes was nice to her. Maybe he'll be nice too?)

~ like a slippery little mouse, one day she escapes during dinnertime. Fueled to seek out the dragon after a one-sided argument with Daemon across the table. Whilst the servants and knights searched the castle grounds for her, she finds herself on the coastline, and beelines towards the mountain of a dragon, Balarion. She doesn't know who he is, all that he's a dragon. Dragons have wings. They can fly. He could take her home, away from these mad people.

~ her courage burns like a wavering candle, tears streaming down her face in distraught and desperation. The sounds of dragons roaring in the dragon pit fizzle her blood, she can hear the troubled songs of Caraxes and syrax in the distance, and it stirs her on to waken the sleeping dragon. Despite her little trembling hands and accelerated heartbeat.

~ Balarion is awoken- disturbed at the sound of a sobbing child. It is such an odd and peculiar sound to his ears, it startles him enough to raise his heavy head from the sand and look down upon a child he has never seen before. Inhaling deeply, he also doesn't recognise their scent. But there is some trace of dragon blood within her.

~ "excuse me, can you take me home? I need to go home, my mummy is there!". She proclaims as loudly as she can. As clearly as her choked up voice allows her.

~ Balarion feels himself grow soft at the sight of the little child- as soft as a dragon can be.

~ He blinks slowly at her, gently lowering his head to move closer. The sudden bravery of a mere child to approach him intrigues him greatly, and a rejuvenation overtakes his body. Suddenly his aching body doesn't feel so tired anymore- his stiffly folded wings that once enveloped the moon, suddenly feel spry and strong.

~ like a mountain unearthing itself from the earth, his massive body groaned and shuddered like a rolling thunderstorm- lifting from the cold evening sand and bubbling salty seafoam. The little girl stumbles backwards clumsily, afraid that maybe she has just prodded a sleeping angry beast, but she is met with no fire or teeth. this large, monstrously large dragon, is bowing his head to her. Like a mighty stag would do for a little fawn.

~ anxious- and brimming with excitement, her hands clasp upon the rough black scales of the sides of his neck. She climbs higher and higher, until she finds herself clambering onto the back of the beast, where an ancient and worn saddle remains. Roughly woven rope that has seen better days, and a simple leather seat awaits before her- and she climbs on.

~ her whole world seems to tilt and shift, like the earth was moving right beneath her feet as Balarion rises with a steady and heavy rumble. The stars are glittering above in the skies, and the cool evening air laps at the waves till they form foamy hills of white upon the dark sapphire waters. her heart is beating loudly and wildly in her chest now, her blood fizzling like lightning, and she stares across the ocean with determination soaring inside her. she's on the dragon now, and he seems eager to fly.

~ grappling the worn thick reins between her small hands, she recalls a word that the pale haired man called out to his crimson scaled dragon before he took off into the sky. The word is foreign, and doesn't quite suit the roll of her tongue. But she speaks it, a command that holds no hesitation.

~ "Sōvēs!".

~ Bastard! Princess had risen high into the sky, clutching for dear life upon the reigns that were held so tight in her hands, her knuckles had turned pale. The wind rushed and soared, and her ears felt like they had popped as they ascended higher and higher across the sea. Balerions' wings were unsheathed like the night sky as they beat against the wind, and although his body was aching and old, he was not brittle or weak.

Salt air rushed over her face like a splash of icy water as they flew over the ocean, and she watched the castle grow smaller and smaller as the wind carried them away.

~ they flew and flew, but Balarion grew weary from the sudden flight, and turned back towards the shoreline. Bastard! princess was at a loss of what to do- for her own stomach was churning at the realisation that she didn't know where she was trying to go. The old dragon seemed to also sense that, and made the decision for the both of them to head back towards the cold stone castle.

~ Awaiting upon the shoreline, was a small army of armoured men, and the white haired man, who wore an astounded expression. His eyes wide, and jaw slack in what could only be described as euphoric horror. The king, Viserys, despite his weak and brittle body, had ordered to be escorted outside to see with his very own eyes as to what was happening. They had heard the uproar of Balerions' wings from within the castle, Daemon had at once thought a sudden hurricane had hit amidst his search for the little girl he had stolen away, haste in his step as Rhaenyra attempted to sternly reason with him - until the unmistakable shrill deep noise of rumbling dragon-song erupted in the distance like thunder. Both adults stilled- their expressions still and astounded.

~ it was until the sudden and panicked cry of a knight that confirmed everyones hesitant thoughts.n

~ "Balerion the black dread has arisen! And the princess is with him!"

~ that was all Daemon needed to hear before he bounded for the exit. With haste.

~ Balerion had returned to the beach, just as the knights had suspected. They fell speechless at the sight of such a large and imposing dragon land back upon the sandy coastline, his energy low, but not gone.

~ Viserys was in utter disbelief, and excitement. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had believed he would be the last rider of Balerion the black dread- the last targaryen to mount the beast that once was ridden by Aegon the conqueror, and many other infamous names.

~ The princess's little head of hair and frightful eyes peered down from her towering view upon the dragons back- eyeing the army of knights. Balerion grumbled a growl so low and frightening, it rattled the knights bones in their bodies. Their braced weapons could only serve as emotional support against such a beast.

~ "Dohaeras! Balerion!" Viserys roared in his deep and broken voice, his command did not hold as much power as it used to- but Balerion acknowledged it with an absentminded glance.

~ Eventually, through carefully worded coos and reassurances from young frightened handmaids that beckoned towards the bastard princess- she yielded. Wordlessly, Balarion lowered his head and allowed her to clamber down. Right into the shaking arms of a young woman in servants cloth, who had stood so close to the dragon, she felt her skin take heat and sweat profusely. The frightened and frustrated little girl was exhausted, and hungry. She has eaten very little earlier, picking at breadcrumbs like a little bird, and sipping only a little water. Her head lolled helplessly into the crook of the maiden's neck, weak and tired. the anxious woman backed away quickly.

~ Half asleep, and very upset, the little princess was placed into Rhaenyras' awaiting out-stretched arms. Her own little boys gathered around her like lambs as she petted the girl's back to comfort her. She fell limp, and asleep not too long after, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

~ Balerion watched them closely as they took his new little rider back up to the castle, even following as close as he could reach whilst still on the sand.

~ Viserys was white faced and trembling, a wry smile on his face, whilst Daemon was left expressionless. His palm cradled at the handle of his sword, troubled.

~ "The black dread yielded to her word Daemon- I had not thought that was possible". Viserys muttered.

~ "Neither did I". Daemon uttered back. His voice was even, and calm, yet his eyes held a thousand yard stare.

~ This was not supposed to happen. She was so young- and now with the black dread within her command? There was no saying of what may happen.

To be continued...

[syndrossi]

From the above prompt, enjoy the Starklings meeting the dragons!

x~x~x

“They can swim?” Robb asked.

The full size of the twins’ dragons was obscured by the steaming surface of the spring they had submerged themselves in, though judging by the two large horned heads facing in their direction, he would guess them to be ten feet tall at least.

“Not very well,” Raymar—Aemon said. “They enjoy a good soak, however, and it is cold here in the North, even in summer.”

The young prince had already stripped down to his smallclothes. He waded into the shallows of the pool, then swam, reaching the dragons in a dozen graceful strokes. Aemon grasped onto one of the horns of the blue dragon and laid his cheek against its own. The dragon’s silver eyes slitted, and Robb assumed that the low rumble that emerged was one of affection.

“That is Qelebrys,” Baelon said. He followed his twin into the water, albeit with more splashing, and as he neared the other dragon, a large black-and-copper wing emerged from the depths to sweep him in upon a mighty wave, startling laughter from the prince, who also found a horn to cling. “I have missed you too, Shadow.”

Robb stole a glance at his siblings, who were watching the display with expressions of awe, and he had to catch Rickon by the arm to keep him from cheerfully toddling to join them. “Perhaps later,” Robb promised him before swinging him up onto his shoulders to at least enjoy a better view.

Jon stood slightly apart, as he had since Daemon Targaryen had come to rain fire and ash down upon King Robert and his men—and name Jon as kin.

Ghost was at his side, as quiet and attentive as ever, though he too seemed plenty curious about the two large interlopers.

“Where—” Robb stopped himself. Where is yours, Snow? he had almost asked. He and his brother had always traded playful barbs, but such moments had become rare since the twins’ arrival in Winterfell. And might very well never return now.

He is a prince. Some might call him the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, now that King Daemon had named him the legitimate son of Prince Rhaegar and his aunt, Lyanna. But few would be foolish enough to do so to the king’s face. His claim to the Iron Throne was by right of dragon conquest, and he had very openly declared his two sons his heirs.

Whatever love he claims he held for Rhaella Targaryen, it does not extend to crowning her eldest children. Whispers of Viserys Targaryen’s demise had already circulated through the castle. Burned alive by King Daemon’s own mount, Caraxes; some said for the crime of kidnapping his sons.

But once King’s Landing was taken, and the Red Keep in Targaryen hands once more, Robb knew from his history lessons what would happen. Those who had opposed King Daemon, or those who had played the bloodiest role in House Targaryen’s demise during the rebellion, would be stripped of their holdfasts and very likely their lives.

Jon could become Lord of Storm’s End, or Casterly Rock. Third in line to the Iron Throne itself.

He should be happy for his brother. And it was not that he begrudged him his good fortune, for he knew how he had always longed for a holdfast of his own, but—

I feel as though I have lost him. 

It was a feeling that only grew as Jon was coaxed out into the water by his brothers to be greeted by their dragons. His true brothers, Robb thought, unable to help the stir of jealousy. And we are but cousins.

Bran and his sisters had run to the edge nearest to the dragons, shouting questions at the trio of princes in the center and clapping in delight at Ghost paddling in the water. It took Rickon’s insistent urging for Robb to join them.

They were wondrous beasts, the prince’s dragons. At not yet three years of age, Robb could not imagine how large they would be after another three. He could hear the princes promising rides to Bran and Arya, and even Sansa asked, uncharacteristically shy, if she might accompany them on one. The thought of soaring through the skies on dragonback had always been a child’s fantasy, one lost along the way to becoming a man. Such wonders, if they had ever existed, were so far in the past as to be legend themselves.

And although Robb found those same fantasies reawakening in himself, they tasted bittersweet. Those very same dragons would carry Jon away, to a life far from Winterfell. To a new family.

x~x~x

Jon and Robb take turns being angsty teens, alas.

[nyx-express]

Pink.

Info: This is part of a drabble series I'm starting, about colours and their associations with emotions. This one's happier and hornier then the last one, yay.

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x fem!Tav (unnamed)

Summary: Their first time post endgame, when they had decided to take it slow for Astarion's sake.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral, fingering, a bit of dirty talk, PiV, some happy tears and blood (only a drop). It's porn with a tiny bit of plot and LOTS of feelings. This isn't kinky at all, they're not fucking, they're making love. It's romantic, it's vanilla, it's what we all deserve every once in a while.

Word count: 4k

Spawn!Astarion x fem!Tav/reader - Pink [associations: love and romance, peace & nurture, warmth & euphoria]

It was a quiet, clear night, dim lights dancing around the crackling wood in the fireplace in Tav and Astarion’s bed chamber inside the Wyrm’s Rock Fortress. After defeating the Brain, Wyll had taken over as Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate, offering guest rooms to anyone in the party who wished to stay in the city. Indefinitely if necessary, he had said, which was a relief since the two hadn’t yet decided when or where to join the army of spawns in the Underdark that had been unleashed after Cazador’s defeat. Seven weeks had passed since they’d saved the city. And they had gone over quickly, as everyone was still either recovering or helping to rebuild all that’s been broken under the Abolute’s attempt for tyranny. 

Astarion lay in their mahogany bed, reading something he believed only Gale would truly enjoy - some Netherese crap about the Weave and whatnot. He could get used to this though; residing like royalty in a castle and being treated as one of the city's heroes. The guest rooms were clearly built to accommodate noblemen, furnished with care and a certain touch of arrogance, much to his liking. Glancing up from his book, his view followed his lover when she made her way across the room, dressed in a dark nightgown and her hair damp. Putting the dusty tome aside, he stretched out an arm to grab her attention and said, “Come here, my love?”

She answered with a smile, taking his hand and sat down next to him. “Missing me already?”

“Terribly,” he jested, fingertips brushing across her knuckles. “The nerve of you leaving me alone here in Ravengard’s chamber of horrors.”

“This chamber of horrors just provided me with yet another free bath, for your information,” she replied, holding his gaze. “Are you hungry? You haven’t fed in a while.”

“Positively ravenous,” he said, fangs poking out of his sly grin as he pulled her into bed. 

“I see.” She held back a laugh. So that’s where the dramatics came from.

Holding her close, Astarion’s head went where it belonged, to the crook of her neck, his favourite spot, where he could smell her blood flowing even through her skin. But there was something else, a new scent drifting to him from her hair. Lavender? Hells, Wyrm’s Rock truly wasn’t half bad. Just as he inhaled again, she turned at an angle to offer her neck to him fully. He grinned to himself. Always so eager to please. 

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the icy caress Astarion would pull her in. His fangs pricking her skin only ever hurt for a mere moment before a pleasant coldness spread through her body, sucking the energy from her like a proper hike would. She didn’t mind the blood loss and was happy to provide him with what he had told her was the finest red he’d ever tasted. Any moment now, his fangs would penetrate and make way for him to feed on her. When his lips finally touched her though, his canines remained absent. A kiss, gentle and soft, was pressed to her neck. Then another. The sensation wasn’t unknown but still unexpected. Instead of turning cold, an immediate warmth spread from where his lips lingered, up to her cheeks and down, all the way to her core. The kisses kept coming, wandering up to her jaw, then back down towards her chest, his hands still holding tightly onto her waist. She released a sudden, hot breath, unsure of what this meant. 

Astarion and Tav hadn’t slept with each other since the party at the Druid’s Grove, having decided that it was for the best to take it slow. He had told her that he didn’t know what he wanted for himself in terms of sex, after two hundred years of having to lure in people for Cazador with his body. He only knew he wanted her, one way or another. And she had agreed, that he had to heal first, find himself and discover a worth unrelated to offering himself for other people’s pleasure. That he could be safe somewhere, with someone, without giving something in return. 

They still had been close since, held hands at any moment that allowed it, spent nights exchanging small kisses, or her favourite, holding his face while they talked and watching him look at her for what felt like hours.

But this, the way he planted kisses on her now, was completely different and reminded her of their night in the Grove. Though surprising, the affection wasn’t unwelcome. She’d lie if she said she hadn’t missed it. Her promise remained true, she would wait for him to be ready, no matter how long it took, even though her body longed so heavily for his touch from time to time. Still, she needed to be sure if she was reading the situation correctly.

“Astarion?” she asked, another gasp escaping her when he sucked on a tender spot, to which he immediately stopped.

His lips pulled away from her, a confident grin still on his face. "Yes, darling?" 

“Are you sure? If you want this, I mean.”

His hand went up to her neck, fingers placed behind her ear while his thumb traced her jawline. “Feeding from you? Oh, you know it’s my favourite pastime.” 

“Not the feeding. The kissing.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes retracted as if he was suddenly shy, roaming over the sheets next to them. “I didn’t mean to… I just felt like it. If you don’t want me to-”

“No, no,” she interrupted as she put her hand upon his. “I like it. I really do. I just want you to know that we don’t have to… go all the way through with it. We can stop at any time, alright?”

His eyes met hers again. “Darling, I tend to finish what I’ve started.” He neared her face with his, staring at her lips. “But thank you. For saying that.” 

Crashing his mouth against hers, he kissed her deeply, his hand on her neck pulling her even closer. His lips like velvet brushed against hers so smoothly, leaving hers agape. He let himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling her with him so she could straddle his hips. 

Astarion smiled as he looked up at her. “I missed this, you know.”

“So did I,” she replied, voice hardly above a whisper before closing the gap between them once more. The kiss was more tender, some kind of promise woven within as their tongues met, until she felt him getting hard beneath her. It was his turn to gasp now, followed by a chuckle when he felt her rolling her hips against him. 

“I can tell,” he mumbled between kisses, his fingers playing with the strap of her robe and quickly untying the knot. Falling open, the robe granted him a view of her figure, delicious and relaxed, that made it impossible to keep his hands to himself. He reached between the fabric, hands running up her sides, thumbs softly touching the plump skin on the underside of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered into the night without fully realising it, before pulling her close again. A searing kiss with her fingers raking through his hair followed as the robe slipped from her shoulders, now only attached to her at the sleeves around her underarms. 

She pulled them off, tossed the gown to the side, and unbuttoned his shirt in return. Astarion watched her nimble fingers work and decided to help by pulling it over his head, soon to join her gown on the floor. With nothing but his trousers between them, she felt his erection grow harder and ground against him once more, marking his trousers with a trail of her wetness. 

“Now, now,” he cautioned. “Leave some for me to taste you, will you?” He sat up, pressed a kiss to her burning lips and proceeded to turn her over, so she was on her back. Hovering above her, his eyes darkened ever so slightly, a hungry grin plastered across his face before he made his way down to her core.

Just thinking about it made her head spin, how he would touch her there, savour the essence between her legs. Not tonight though, she thought as her hand found his hair, tugging lightly on it when he was halfway down. Astarion looked at her, a question hanging between them.

“As much as I’d love you to do that, I want this to be about you. I want to make you feel good,” she said, holding his chin gently between her fingers.

Astarion blinked and closed his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers as he studied her for a moment. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?” she asked and he seemed to think of what to say. What he wanted.

“I suppose it is, yes,” he then said, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards, showing off a dimple. 

She sat up, repressing a smile and took his hand in hers. “Lie down, love. Make yourself comfortable.”

When he did and had nestled himself between the frilly cushions, Tav straddled him again, took his face into her hands and kissed him. Astarion grabbed the outside of her thighs this time, sliding up to the curve of her hip and then back to cup the cheeks of her ass. She smiled into the kiss, letting him touch her however he wanted before she pulled her head back and made her way down his body. 

Both her hands were on his thighs now, starting at his knees and slowly stroking upwards. When she reached his groin he released a shaky breath, looking at her intently. She began to undo his trousers, so he pushed his hips up, helping her to get rid of the pesky garment once and for all. Turning back to him, her hands went straight to the tent that had formed beneath his briefs, touching him through the last layer of fabric. Astarion’s breathing turned shallower when she pulled them off him too, leaving him bare before her. With his erection freed, she took in the sight of him, making sure to etch the image into her memories forever.

“I’m afraid I can’t find the words to describe how perfect you look for me,” she told him as she reached for his dick. Pumping it once, twice, and still watching him react to her touches, she asked, “Does that feel good for you?”

He nodded, eyes half-lidded as if her movements had him entranced. “It does, yes. More than good.”

Her thumb brushed over his tip, spreading the bead of precum that had accumulated before she bent down. With a flattened tongue, she licked a stripe from bottom to top, looking Astarion in the eyes to see his lids close, brows knitted and mouth agape, sucking in a hiss of approval. Pleased with his reaction, she pumped him again, then wrapped her lips around him, softly at first, and swirled her tongue around the top. Working her way down, she tried to take more of him each time, stroking her hand down the part that didn’t fit. Her tongue flattened when she bobbed down and twirled around the tip when she came back up, sucking in her cheeks and leaving Astarion a panting mess. 

Somehow, with his eyes still closed, his hands found their way into her hair and proceeded to guide her up and down on him at the pace he desired. She felt herself getting wetter then, having achieved just what she wanted - to be there for him, to serve him and to make this special night all about him and his needs. Moans filled the air when he approached his climax and she almost smiled with his dick in her mouth, still led up and down by his hands. His voice was like music to her ears, she could tell how close he was by the way his fingers gripped her scalp and the twitch in his hips, so she brought her free hand around his balls, cradling them with light touches, silently inviting him to let go.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his fingers twisting even tighter in her hair. “I, ah!” 

There it was, she thought, he was going to spill into her mouth any second. But then, right before he could, while cursing out a string of stressed moans, he pulled her off him. His chest was heaving, she realised, now that she could look at him again, a thin film of sweat spread across his forehead. “What’s wrong?”, she asked.

“Nothing, darling,” he said between deep breaths. “I just… It’s been a while, as you know, and I don’t want it to be over this quickly. I want this to last as long as I can possibly manage, which certainly will not be as long as I’d wish for it to be, judging by my current state. But there’s more I want to do with you. To you.”

He sat up and held her by the waist, meeting her with yet another kiss, tasting himself on her tongue as his erection pressed against her skin. Pushing her down by the shoulders, he made them switch positions, so he was on top again. 

“My turn,” he quipped, with a boyish smirk and began to kiss his way down her body. Hands on her chest, he squeezed her breasts tenderly, his mouth hovering over her left nipple.

“Wait,” she said, despite herself.

He stilled his movements, looking back at her. “Yes?”

"I wanted you to enjoy yourself fully tonight, you know," she began until his thumb circled her nipple, causing her eyes to shut close.

“Do I look like I’m not having fun?” he asked, resting his head down on her tit while he lazily massaged the other one.

“Oh, you do, believe me. But what I had in mind was more focused on you, not me. I’d rather please you than have you please me tonight.”

He chuckled to himself, eyes meeting hers again. “Darling, this is pleasing me. That’s exactly why I do it. For my pleasure. And yours of course. What I’m saying is, seeing you come undone by my hand, or tongue, or cock… is what I want most right now.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head with a laugh.

Astarion appeared serious in contrast, a pleading look on his features. “Please, let me do this.”

The laugh caught in her throat when she realised he truly meant it. He wanted to make her come for his pleasure. So she swallowed once and answered, “Okay then. Do as you wish.”

He let out a hum of approval as he began to suck on her nipple, his teeth scraping lightly across the surrounding skin. Tav’s breath hitched when he went for the other one, forcing her eyes to remain open. She needed to see every second of this.

He kissed a line down her stomach, his breath fanning into her navel when he settled between her legs. His expression was downright obscene as he kissed the tender skin on her inner thigh, eyes never leaving hers. His fangs had pricked the thin flesh, if intended or not, she didn’t know. A single droplet of blood gathered around the tiny wound, quickly wiped away by Astarion’s tongue. Another hum from him, his eyes flickering closed as he savoured the taste of her while his hands drew patterns and neared her core. 

She didn’t notice she was holding her breath when Astarion’s lips pressed a kiss to her pussy. 

“So wet, my darling,” he mused. “Just for me.” 

All she could do was nod between moans as he finally pressed his mouth against her and let his tongue dance over her clit. Her head snapped upwards, eyes on the ceiling above while he circled her, teased her and groaned deliciously into her skin. She pushed herself to look back down and watch him, his eyes already on her as he continued lapping and sucking at a torturous pace. Closing his eyes with what she interpreted as a grin, he brought a finger to her entrance, lightly pushing until it was inside of her. There was hardly any resistance, her body was so ready for him, welcoming all he had to give with ease. So he pushed and pulled a few times, then added a second finger while his tongue still worked its wonders on her. 

It felt like she was breathing fire, her lungs threatening to burst when he curled his fingers inside of her. Moans turned into screams and she instinctively threw her hands to his head, clutching his curls for dear life, pulling him even closer while this rogue bastard devoured her like a god. 

“I’m going to come,” she managed curtly, face already scrunched into a heavenly grimace. 

Astarion didn’t answer, focused on the task at hand and kept working her towards the finish line until everything inside her seemed to explode. Her entire body tensed, limbs convulsing as she screamed his name, surges of pleasure rippling through every muscle, every inch of her. Wave after mind-numbing wave crashed against her but he didn’t stop, didn’t break the contact between them and when she felt the orgasm begin to fade, Astarion sped up his movements, fingers and tongue ceaselessly striving to reach his goal a second time. He succeeded almost immediately. Just when she thought her breath would steady, when her twitching legs seemed to relax, another peak hit her, and this time it squeezed all the air out of her lungs. She couldn’t gasp or scream anymore, only endure as the glorious rush made her lose her mind. Tav pulled Astarion off her, gasping for air and fell back into the pillows, chest heaving with a dull smile on her face.

He towered over her, grinning wickedly at the state of her before wiping the back of his hand over his drenched mouth. “That was to your liking, I take it?”

She didn't answer, unable to find the strength yet, just waving her hand at him as she tried to come to her senses. Astarion laughed softly as he watched her chest move, the beads of sweat that had formed all over her body glistening in the light until she was capable of thinking again.

She got up in a daze, Astarion sitting upright on his knees in front of her, his hands resting on his lap, erection still visible. Tav crawled over to him, mirroring his position and kissed him at the same time as her fingers wrapped around his dick. He was still rock hard, breathing heavily into the kiss. “You nearly killed me, I’m afraid,” she whispered against the skin of his neck. “I’ll have to pay you back in kind.” His head fell back with a sigh as she pumped him faster, eager to give the man she loved so much the pleasure he had given her. 

She pulled his head back towards her, the need to watch him enjoy himself too strong. And he showed her everything, every twitch of an eyelid as she rolled her wrist around him, the way his mouth fell open when she squeezed him harder, or the deep line that formed between his eyebrows when he tensed. He moaned sharply and just when she thought he’d release, Astarion grabbed the hand that was working on him.

Tav stopped her movements, afraid she’d done something wrong or that he wasn’t ready, that it still might be too much for him. “Are you all right?”

He brought her hand towards his face and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Quite alright, my dear.”

“What’s the matter then?”

He eased her worries with a smile, pulling her closer by the waist. “I don’t want it to end like this tonight. I want something else. More.”

Anything, she’d do anything for him. “And what is it that you want?”

Shadows fell upon his eyelids as he bent his head down, still maintaining eye contact. “I want to fuck you.”

Her mouth fell open for a split second before she could nod. Too eager it seemed, as Astarion grinned at her reaction. “Lie down, darling.”

She followed his instructions and let him get on top before he pressed himself against her, supporting his weight with one arm. Another kiss, short and sweet, contradictory to the situation was placed on her lips as he lined himself up at her entrance. And when he pushed himself in, all the air seemed to leave her lungs once again. He did it slowly, watching her reactions closely, as he entered her inch by inch. They moaned in unison when he bottomed out, some wicked sense of relief, a feeling of wholeness, uniting them. He pulled back equally as slow, a need to prolong and savour this moment for as long as possible spreading in his chest. She reached for his face, holding onto each side delicately as he rocked back and forth, her mouth falling open when he hit a particular spot. 

“Do you want me to turn around for you?” she asked, her thumb caressing his earlobe.

“No,” he whispered. “I need to look at you right now.”

That somehow left her speechless and she returned to enjoying the feeling of him fucking her slowly as well as the sight he granted her with. He didn’t speed up his movements but ground into her harder after a while, unable to resist the temptation any longer, already panting from how turned on he was. His voice was quiet, barely audible to her, had she not paid such close attention. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He sang it like a poem with every snap of his hips against hers. 

“I love you too,” she replied, pressing her fingers tighter against his neck in confirmation.

“No, you don’t understand,” he sighed, still moving in and out. “I Iove you.” 

Something wet landed on her chest, a warm droplet of some sort. A single tear, she quickly realised, that had fallen from Astarion’s eyes. She wiped away its trace on his cheek and pulled him close, kissing him deeply. She’d hold him like this until the end of time if he needed her to, would tell him how much he meant to her for hours on end if he only asked. “I love you, too,” she replied with certainty until their lips met yet again. Her tongue found his and she could still taste herself on him, mixed with the salty flavour of another tear, which must have been hers. 

When they pulled back and looked at each other, Astarion was still fucking her at a leisurely pace. He exhaled a laugh and said, “Sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen. The crying and all.”

Tav smiled, wiping away her own tears. “It’s okay, I don’t mind a bit of sappiness every once in a while.”

“Enough of that, I say,” he answered and sped up his movements. She could feel him hitting even deeper now, more determined than before and as he turned her hips at an angle, she knew the coil in her belly was about to snap again. He held her feet to his chest, leaning over her like a magnificent predator as he thrust into her again and again. His other hand went to her clit, rubbing in quick circles, never slowing the rate at which he fucked her. 

Her vision blurred as the third orgasm hit her, eyes rolling back in her head as the pressure became unbearable and she could only scream his name. Astarion moaned at her convulsing around him, her pussy squeezing him even tighter in rhythmic throbs. He came with his head falling back, releasing his seed into her hot cunt with a few more hard thrusts. He fell on top of her then, muscles finally unwinding and his mind free of everything but her.

They stayed like that for a long while, sticky bodies pressed together, limbs tangled and Astarion’s dick still sheathed inside of her. There was no need to talk, they knew what the other one was thinking anyway, so they held each other until sleep pulled them from consciousness.

@bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[folkwhoredoll]

by the shore - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader (friends with benefits)

synopsis: being friends with rafe has its benefits

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex), few curse words

request: rafe x Reader, they are best friend that’s are on a family trip that they take every year in summer, reader is good friends with both Sarah and rafe, rafe and reader are a bit tipsy messing around and find their way to the beach and that’s were the smut happens :) hope you can do it thank you.

a/n: hi everyone! it's been a while since my last post because things got busy in nursing school but since it's summer break, i can now post again! thank you to the one who requested this <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!

masterlist

➶-͙˚ ༘✶

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the beachfront estate where you and the Camerons vacationed every summer. The annual family trip was a cherished tradition, one you eagerly anticipated each year. It started long before you even entered school, a yearly event your parents initiated to celebrate their friendship with the Camerons. Naturally, you also formed a growing friendship with Sarah and Rafe.

Though, if you were honest, "friendship" didn't quite describe the bond between you and Rafe. Whether you and the Cameron heir were dating was unclear, but he acted like you were most of the time. Almost no boys dared to ask you out, not with Rafe always glaring at them from behind you. He accompanied you almost everywhere, even pretending you were his girlfriend to keep other girls away.

But your relationship with Rafe wasn't simply a friendship because of what you two did behind closed doors. It was no secret that Rafe had several experiences, his natural charisma drawing girls to him. Perhaps that's why you couldn't resist him when he told you he admired you months ago. He was your first.

Not one soul knows about it; you couldn't risk it.

The evening air was filled with laughter and clinking glasses as your families gathered on the deck, enjoying the night of their getaway. You felt a pleasant buzz from the beer you and Rafe had been sipping, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Sarah had to excuse herself to answer a call from Topper, leaving you and Rafe alone under the twinkling fairy lights.

Rafe grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Wanna take a walk down to the beach?" he suggested, his voice slightly blurred but full of excitement.

You smiled back and nodded eagerly, the idea of sneaking for a late-night adventure sounding perfect. "Absolutely. Let's go back before Sarah gets back and decides to drag us into some boring game."

Rafe laughed, a deep, infectious sound that made your heart flutter. The combination of alcohol and the intimate setting seemed to excite you.

The two of you stumbled down the wooden steps leading to the beach, giggling and shushing each other while your hands gripped tightly around your beer bottles. The fine sand was cool beneath your feet and the ocean waves lapping gently at the shore.

Rafe motioned for you to sit near a large rock, sitting down first to make sure that it was comfortable enough. You positioned yourself beside him, sighing contently as you took in the view before you.

"Remember when Sarah and I built a sandcastle when we were like, ten? Then you ruined it with your soccer ball." You said.

"In my defense, I didn't mean to kick it towards your castle." Rafe chuckled at the memory. "And I got the worst punishment from you because you refused to speak to me for a week."

You hummed, sipping more of your beer. "Still not over it."

He snorted, leaning his head back.

The next moments were spent in silence. You and Rafe took turns drinking what was left from the bottle, smiling whenever you would make eye contact, and leaning closer and closer to him until your shoulders touched.

You took a deep breath when you felt Rafe kiss your cheek suddenly. "What was that for?"

"What? Can't I kiss you?" He smiled innocently. "It's not like we haven't done anything more than a kiss."

You threw him a look, knowing that in a few moments, you would be doing something that friends don't normally do. How Rafe could always be turned on, you could never understand. But you don't complain, not when your hormones also betray you every time you see his muscles strain from his tight shirt.

"Come on, Y/n. No one can see us from here." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin as he lowered his face to your neck.

You didn't say anything, and Rafe took it as a sign to move further, abandoning his beer to the side. He placed one hand on your thigh and another hand on your waist. Your head was spinning from both the alcohol and Rafe's hands, suddenly not able to speak as you savor the moment of his lips on your neck.

"What would our parents say when they find out what we do?" He wondered teasingly, smirking when he saw you discreetly push your thighs together. He loved you like this: submissive as you let him do whatever he wanted.

"Probably celebrate. They've been teasing us for years." You finally replied, a laugh coming from your throat as you remembered the times when they would try to set the two of you up in every gathering.

Rafe suddenly lifted the skirt of your sundress, causing you to gasp. "Out here? Really?"

His other hand moved from your waist to your back, feeling for the zipper of your dress. "It's a perfect spot. No one can see us or hear us unless you scream, of course."

His cocky attitude made you roll your eyes, though your cunt already fluttered at the thought of being bare under his body as the sunset. "We have to be fast, got it?"

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you tilted your body, swiftly pushing him back so you could move on top and straddle him. Rafe, although shocked by your sudden movement, smiled cheekily as he witnessed you reach to your back to unzip your dress.

"Damn, baby." He breathed as he eyed the way the straps of the dress dropped, hastily helping you to get out of your clothing. He licked his lips as he stared at the sight of you. Your breasts perked up as the cool sea breeze touched your skin, leaving you in your underwear.

"Take it off, Rafe." You told him, helping him take off the shirt that accentuated his muscles.

Following your request, Rafe moved quickly and placed his shirt on the sand beside the two of you, lifting your hips and guiding you to lay on his shirt.

He finished removing the rest of his clothing, never cutting eye contact with you even as he pulled his cock out. You made a quick look back to the house, making sure that you were not within anyone's eyesight.

You gasped as Rafe pulled your panties down, your cunt fluttering at the excitement. He lowered his head down until it was leveled with your pussy, his manhood hardening at the sight of your wet folds.

Without warning, he gave your cunt a long lick, pushing his warm tongue as deep as he could reach. You moaned loudly and quickly gripped his hair, your back arching as he sucked on your clit.

Rafe reached a hand upwards to cover your mouth, not too tight to restrict you from breathing but just enough to muffle your moans. Your chest heaving as you gasped, the alcohol and his tongue working together to give you the best pleasure.

Rafe himself was groaning as he enjoyed the sight of your writhing body, his heart swelling with pride, knowing that it was only him who could make you feel that way.

Your moans were exchanged with whines when he suddenly moved away from your pussy, kneeling in front of you as he stroked his stiff dick.

"You said we have to be fast." He chuckled, teasing you. "Ready, baby?"

After seeing you nod, Rafe pushed himself inside you, a loud groan erupting from his lips as he felt your warm and wet folds around him.

"Best cunt in the world." He whispered to himself.

You let out a loud moan as he filled you completely, growing needy and desperate for a release. "Move, Rafe. Make me cum, please."

Your words sounded like music to Rafe's ears, further feeding his ego. "Since you asked nicely."

In one quick movement, Rafe thrust in and out of you, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he could reach deeper.

The sounds of both of your breaths were mixed with the sound of the ocean waves as sweat grew on the surface of your skin. You were shamelessly whining and moaning in every thrust while Rafe was closing his eyes as he groaned in pleasure.

He pushed your other leg upwards, having you nearly folded in half as he pushed harder. He looked down to where you two were connected, his cock twitching at the sight. "Taking me so well, baby. Come on, I know you're close."

You were panting, breathless, and unable to speak. Your hands were clawing on Rafe's shoulder, wanting to push him away from the overwhelming feeling.

"R-Rafe…" You breathed out, feeling your pussy pulsate around him.

"Yes, Y/n. Go on, cum for me." He urged you, his pace never stopping nor slowing down.

You looked at him, admiring how he looked with his disheveled hair and warm cheeks. His muscles were tensing as he thrusted faster.

Without warning, he pulled your legs apart slightly, just enough so he could reach your clit with his hand. You almost screamed at the contact, another surge of gratification taking over your body as he pinched your bud.

"Fuck, Rafe!"

He smiled, hips going faster until he felt you cum around his cock. Your hips were jerking upward as you released, thighs shaking as you squirted on him.

Rafe moaned loudly, and after a few more thrusts, he released his load inside of you, not letting a drop go to waste.

You were quiet as you panted underneath Rafe, your legs still shaking occasionally while you enjoyed the feeling of both of your cum inside you.

Rafe was whispering compliments in your ear softly, stroking your skin as he slowly pulled himself out. He then helped you back into your underwear and dress, gently guiding you as you regained your balance. Rafe was quicker as he dressed himself up, grabbing your hand immediately and leading you back to the house.

"Let's clean up inside before Sarah finds us here."