#as I am not nor do i have hair loss

[phinoli]

one of the more wholesome places on reddit is r/bald like they are so supportive & funny. they really do save so many men from looking like creeps by being like “shave them wisps off NOW”

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

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“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

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Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

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[darkdemeter]

THE THREAT OF INTIMACY

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed. 

Did you really have to do this? 

It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth. 

Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.

You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow? 

You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor. 

It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.

You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return. 

But that talk shocked you. 

Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities. 

Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience. 

What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me? 

He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.

What if I can’t make him cum? 

What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready. 

You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.

“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.

“Mm, hi…” 

Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.  

“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?” 

His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh. 

“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.” 

Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.

“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow. 

“I don’t think tonight.”

Or any other night… 

Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.

The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night. 

You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”

“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply. 

Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”

“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.” 

“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”

You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?” 

Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”

You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts. 

You’re imperfect. 

You’re ugly. 

Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him. 

He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.

Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?

It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him. 

He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.” 

“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”

“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.” 

You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—” 

How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”

You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.

When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret. 

Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?

The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day. 

He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time. 

His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.

“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?” 

Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.” 

“You’re scared.”

It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”

It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.” 

You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts. 

Pathetic. 

He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display. 

And all you’re better off getting is a toy. 

His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.

Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself. 

Your mind is a hideous beast. 

Like you.

Shut up!

You make this wedding dress look ugly.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.

You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat. 

Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.

Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep. 

You’ve ruined his day.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”

The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots. 

“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”

Our day?

There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”

Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral. 

If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie. 

But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart. 

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show. 

“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?” 

Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.

“Of course, doll. Anything.”

 Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it. 

Supposedly.

Not likely real…

I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?

With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”

The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—

“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”

“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—” 

Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision. 

“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”

You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this. 

“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”

“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling. 

“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”

Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles. 

“I–couldn’t–”

You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!” 

“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”

Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…” 

He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”

Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”

He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”

His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.” 

Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of. 

It’s why you’re his star. 

I love this man.

With all my heart. 

His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately. 

At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action. 

His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties. 

The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction. 

“Atta girl.”

I’m alright. 

“You’re doing amazing.”

I’m safe. 

His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss. 

“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded. 

Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.

“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”

“I want to hear you.”

“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”

In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.

The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening. 

“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss. 

You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”

“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”

The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton. 

I feel…

Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you. 

You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”

The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high. 

Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.

“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?” 

“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount. 

Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds. 

He’s tasting me…

He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem. 

I do?

The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes. 

“You are exquisite…” 

Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”

The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times. 

He’s just so… perfect.

The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both. 

“You may, Mr. Barnes.”

With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards. 

Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare. 

“Please be real?”

His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.

Please be real for me?

“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”

The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”

He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it. 

His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design. 

Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away. 

His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body. 

Why does he look at me like that? 

His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you. 

“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.

Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”

“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”

His confession has you blushing. 

He can’t possibly mean that…

He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch. 

You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him. 

The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart. 

Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.

Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you. 

W–will he fit?

Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts. 

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”

A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss. 

“I’m ready, Bucky…”

His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes. 

He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you. 

“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink. 

His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly. 

A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there. 

Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours. 

“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”

“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”

Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue. 

He goes slowly. 

He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” 

“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”

Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him, 

“Bucky… please, I-I need…”

“What do you need, love? Tell me.”

“I– need more– please.”

He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base. 

To fuck you the way of a mafia lord. 

“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”

You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”

Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.

You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him  Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.

“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out. 

“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—” 

“You’re taking my cock so well.”

“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”

His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek. 

You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!” 

“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.

You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,

“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”

His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going. 

You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.

The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes. 

His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you. 

He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks. 

“Moya zvezda, are you—”

“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself. 

She’s okay. My girl’s okay.

You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes. 

“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman— 

“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”

He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me. 

Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.

You’re perfect. 

You’re beautiful. 

I’m not scared anymore. Not with him. 

You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were. 

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @mrsnikstan @floralwsloki @mcira @schneeflocky @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

DON'T TOUCH WHAT IS MINE. ( HOTD x Reader )

author note: I wanted to do HOTD x Greek Myths cause it's fun. If I get enough like or requests I'l do a HOTD x Greek Myths book on wattpad. pairing: Jealous! Aemond Targaryen x Noble Wife! Reader prompt: Aemond contemplates murder. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were supposed to marry Aegon, a way to secure allies in the North for when Aegon took the Iron Throne. But, when his Mother planned on marrying him to Helaena. Aemond swiftly made his move, knowing that the loss of an ally would upset his Mother. It was supposed to be only for duty. You were supposed to be his duty to his Mother and family. But, of course the Gods were cruel and he fell for you. Hard and fast. He practically fell flat on his face for you, like someone had punched him in the groin with a club named ‘love’. 

You were just so perfect. You were a proper Lady in the Court, weaving your way through politics with a cunning grace. You smiled and happily listened to Helaena as she rambled on about whatever popped in her mind, never judging her. You played with Helaena and Aegon’s children, always so patient with the toddler’s. You were cordial, yet stern, with Aegon⎯keeping him in line for the sake of his family when you could. You understood the want for revenge after the loss of his eye. You were just so perfect and kind. He hated how much he fell in love with you.

Watching you chat with some Lord from the Reach, Aemond grits his teeth, shifting around in place. He wasn’t particularly thrilled about you speaking to that Lord, but he would not tell you nor drag you away. He knew that you had some ambition or plan behind speaking to the Lord, one he did not know yet but knew that you would tell him soon enough. You were smart like that. 

Looking you over for any sign for him to interfere, he inspects your appearance with a subtle look of love. Your gown was more simple in feature, but a similar green to his Mother’s. Your hair is decorated with pearl and gold dragon hair clips. Your fingers decorated in rings, the sapphire one shining a particular bright. A smug smirk spreads on his lips at the sight of the ring.

“Yes, my lord husband, Prince Aemond is everything that I could ask for.” You nod, “I am content, actually I am more than content Lord Wormwood.”

“I am happy to hear that, your grace. But, I am just suggesting that…should you ever find yourself in need of some company whilst visiting the Reach⎯” Lord Wormwood suggests, making his blood boiling. 

“No, now I must return to my husband’s side.” You cut him off, eyes shifting away.

“Just a moment longer⎯” Lord Wormwood tries again, attempting to keep the conversation going.

Watching you straighten up your back and fiddle with your wedding ring, he instantly catches the subtle signal from you. You needed him. Holding his head up a little higher,  Aemond saunters over to you, attempting to hide his slightly faster walking pace than usual. Reaching your side in an instant, he gently places his hand on your hip, tucking you into his side.

“Aemond.” You whispers, a subtle glimmer of appreciation in your eyes. 

“I do believe that my wife and I have other more important matters than you, Lord Wormwood.” Aemond cuts in, his voice cutthroat. 

“I, uh, I well..” Lord Wormwood stutters out, shocked by the sight of Aemond lurking over you like some kind of protective dragon.

“Goodbye, Lord Wormwood.” You nod, dragging him away.

Feeling the tension within the room grow with each second, you softly intertwined your hands with Aemond, to prevent him from reaching for his blade. Tightening your grip on him, you start to drag Aemond away, knowing that he’d make some comment or at worst do something to Lord Wormwood. The last thing you needed and wanted was for a fight to erupt because some stupid old man couldn’t take a hint that you were married. 

“Come, come, Aemond. I am sure Helaena will be happy for us to join her.” You lie, tugging at him a little harder.

“Yes, let us go, my wife.” He nods, his voice sharp.

“Come, Aemond.” You grit your teeth, “Let us go, now.”

“Yes.” Aemond glares down the squirming Lord, like he hoped that he would burst into flames.

Cringing at the tension in the air, you tug him a little harder, struggling as he was practically glued to his spot. Sighing as he refuses to move, you press a kiss onto his cheek, using it as a way to soften him just enough to drag him away. Smirking as he instantly melts like a dragon burning a piece of wood, you drag him forcefully, weaving your way through the sea of Courtiers. 

“You kissed me.” He mumbles, a faint hum of pink on his cheeks.

“I did.” 

“You kissed me, in public.” He repeats, “You have never done that before.”

“Yes, well, I cannot exactly carry you over my shoulder to stop you from killing that man. So a kiss is what it was.” You counters back, a hint of wit in your voice.

Looking over his face in an attempt to see his reaction, he doesn’t really display any emotions, just this flatness which was typical of him. You liked to think he was born with a stone face and that Alicent had mistaken him for a statue instead of a babe. Cocking a brow up at the lack of anything from him, you softly squeeze his hand, attempting to get his attention or something from him. 

“I do not like him.” He grumbles, the disdain clear in his voice.

“Oh, really? I had no clue that you disliked him.” You jest, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Do not jest. Tis’ not a jesting manner.” He sulks, “He propositioned you to visit his bedchambers.”

“I know, tis’ why I had you infer. I do not intend to share a bed with any other man than you. So do not even think of entertaining any doubt’s, Aemond.” You argue, quickly dismissing any doubt he may have.

He goes quiet for the longest time. It almost looked like he was actually accepting your words without any possible argument or disagreement. Relaxing for a moment, you watch as he licks his bottom lip, his eye narrowing for a moment.

“Let me kill him.” He mumbles, almost like he was begging you to allow it.

“Not in public.” You argue, not taking him seriously.

“That can be arranged.” He smiles, a rare smile tugging at his lips. 

Shaking your head with a gentle scoff, you look over his face for a moment, seeing that he was being serious. The look on your face shifting into one of annoyance. Whilst other men would have lashed out and caused a scene, Aemond was cunning and waited. Like a snake hiding in the tall grass. Smacking his arm softly, he lets out a soft snort, a cheeky little grin spreading on his face. 

“No.”

“Fine.” He mumbles, rushing away from you. “I will not be the one to do it.”

“Aemond Targaryen, don’t you dare.” You scold, chasing after him.

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[nebulaafterdark]

Blood & Cheese (Pt. 1)

Summary: After the events of Blood and Cheese, Rhaenyra’s daughter returns to King’s Landing in hopes of speaking to her childhood companion. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Targcest, mentions of death, loss of virginity

Y/N and Aegon never had an ordinary relationship. They grew up together, they loved each other, knowing all the while they could not marry.

Aegon is promised to Helaena. He marries her, performs his duty, though he loves her as a sister and nothing more.

Y/N does not wed. Rhaenyra is in no hurry to marry off her only daughter.

Years pass, Y/N visits Aegon and Helaena often. Watching their children grow. Twins named Jaehaera and Jaehaerys.

“He looks like you,” Y/N muses, holding his sweet boy.

Aegon smiles, wistfully. Stroking a hand over the back of his son’s hair as he stares at her. What might our children have looked like? He kisses her cheek, “indeed.”

Y/N and Helaena understand each other well enough. Helaena loves Aegon as a brother and nothing more.

Helaena tells her, “I find myself happiest when you are near, as does he.”

Y/N holds her hand out, hoping the other woman will take it. “I should like to be here more, help with the children.”

“Aemond would wed you.” Helaena says, as if the offer is no more complex than the color of the sky. “He likes you well enough and has no qualms about your feelings for Aegon.”

That was before he killed Lucerys. A distant dream now. Y/N makes her way into the castle as servants hustle about.

“The King and Queen have lost their only son.”

Y/N finds the children’s apartments undetected; unable to believe what she has heard until she sees….one bed instead of two.

The door jostles open and someone steps inside, muttering to themselves. A voice Y/N knows well, she waits, huddled in the corner, until she can be certain they are alone.

“Helaena,” her name is whispered from the shadows, as she paces her children’s chamber.

She’s seen nothing of Aegon since the incident, she has been largely alone. Her mother and husband focus largely on finding the men responsible. Helaena knows it will change nothing. Instead she clutches the throw blanket embroidered for her son.

“Helaena,” the voice sounds, again. Y/N creeps out of the corner. Her eyes wide and haunted.

She isn’t real. She can’t be.

“I am so sorry for what’s happened.”

“You are always sorry.” In visions of her and when she stands before her. “Must be an awful way to live.”

Y/N swallows hard, “it is.”

“You are my brother’s only love…I believe he is yours. He’s often down at the pleasure house…wanting for you. You return to him like this? Now?”

Y/N assures her. “I wish only to see him.”

“I will not begrudge you happiness, nor him. But I’ve no wish to remarry, and I’ll have no more children. You might give him a son.” Helaena says.

“I did not come here to bed him, I came here tell him-”

Helaena’s eyes find Aegon’s. Whatever Y/N came here to do matters little now.

“You,” he sneers, approaching Y/N at a pace that sends Helaena scurrying from the room. “One wasn’t enough for you? You had to come yourself to finish the job?” Aegon takes Y/N’s face in his hands so harshly her jaw aches.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“By raven, you might have contacted me.” His wide, mad eyes search hers.

“I thought it best to see you,” Y/N stammers, “so we might talk about this, the way we always have.”

“What is there to talk about?” Aegon scoffs, “my son is my legacy! My son is heir to the throne!”

“From the depths of my soul, I am sorry.” Y/N tells him.

“I never wanted this, I never wanted to marry Helaena, I never wanted to be King. I wanted to marry you, but I love my children. I wanted this to be peaceful and now it cannot be because your mother has killed my child. My sister is distraught, I am distraught.” Aegon pulls himself away, fighting for composure.

“That is why I’ve come.” Y/N tells him, “my mother did not order this, it was Daemon.”

Aegon runs a hand over his face, “so that fixes everything?”

“It doesn’t,” Y/N admits, “I know that much, but if we could stop this war-”

Aegon laughs, low and menacing. “I do not want to stop this war. I intend to fight it.”

“Aegon,” she breathes.

“Will you stand at my side or against me?”

“I have no wish to stand against you. Especially now, after all you have lost. But I would not know my place here.”

“Your place is with me.” Aegon insists.

“But Alicent-”

“I am the king. She made it so,” Aegon reminds her. “I love my mother, sister, and house. I will not abandon Helaena in this.”

“Of course not,” Y/N nods.

“Still you could…” Aegon moves back toward her, “be my wife. My second wife. Take the burden off Helaena.” He nods, “our children will be spared from acts such as these, when I am asked again to produce a male heir.”

“My love,” she cups his face in her hands, “I will do this for you. But not now, not like this.”

“I need you.” He argues.

Y/N strokes his cheeks, “I am here, the rest will sort.”

His lips are on hers then, in a soul crushing kiss. Pouring all of his sadness, loneliness and regret into it. “I love you.” It is a horrid, awful thing to say, following the death of his child, birthed by another woman.

“I love you too.”

He also mourns what might have been, had their mothers not been so stubborn. He wishes Jaehaerys were hers, it might have spared him. “Come with me.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her down the hall to his rooms. Tearing at her clothes, and then his own, falling back onto the bed, with her beneath him. Panting as she stares up at him.

Aegon spits into his hand, wetting his cock as he does not have the patience for much more.

She means to tell him she’s never lied with a man, to warn him about her maidenhead. But she cannot bring herself to ask him to be gentle. She wants it to hurt…and it does. “Ahh.”

Aegon moves slowly, realizing what he’s done. The blood over his cock as he withdraws, “you were saving yourself?”

“It matters little.”

“It matters to me,” Aegon insists, “I’ve hurt you.”

“I want to do this for you.” She shakes her head, “I want you to split me open and bury your sorrows inside. I want to be yours. Your comfort, your strength.”

“Be my wife.”

“I will.”

“Be truthful with me.”

“I will.”

His strokes are slow and deep, kissing her sweetly as he fucks her perfect little cunt, getting her used to the feeling of fullness. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” Y/N admits.

Aegon slips a hand between them, rubbing her pearl in tight circles, “is that any better?”

Y/N gasps, “yes.”

Aegon smiles, “good.”

Y/N weaves her hands into his silver locks. Kissing him, holding him, consuming him. “I love you.”

Aegon groans, “I love you, dearly. I’ve longed for you each day we were apart.”

“Aegon.” She sighs, cunt tense with her impending peak.

“You’ll give me children, won’t you?”

“As many as you’d like.”

“And you will love them?”

“Of course,” Y/N nods.

“My daughter…Jaehaera, will you accept her and treat her as your own?”

Again, Y/N nods.

“Nothing could ever replace my son, but I will survive this, so long as I have you. Our children, Jaehaera, Helaena as well.”

Y/N smiles, “that sounds nice.” The love between Aegon and Helaena is not one she will ever understand. She loves her brother, but she has not bore him children. It would be different, surely.

Aegon lets out a sob as he empties his spend at the mouth of her womb.

Her high comes quick and unexpected, milking Aegon dry and pulsing around him. His cock softens, remaining inside her until he hardens again.

She is sore when morning comes and Aegon bathes her in rose water. Leaving his rooms only long enough to wed before returning to their bed.

Aegon is restless in those early moons, before Y/N’s belly begins to swell with child. She plays with Jaehaera and keeps Helaena company, she writes to her mother when time permits.

Jaehaera giggles loudly as Y/N toys with her doll, walking it towards her. The little girl points to Y/N’s belly.

“Soon.” Y/N tells her, “a little sister or brother for you to play with.”

Jaehaera nods.

Helaena looks to Y/N with a soft smile.

“You know which it is, don’t you?” Y/N can tell by her face.

“Aegon will be pleased,” Helaena says, with finality.

Based off her words, Y/N spends the next months under the impression she’s to have a son. Instead, she bears Aegon a daughter, then two more the following year.

The King does not mind, in fact, he has all but accepted that Jaehaerys would be his only son. Until their fourth child is born, a little boy with silver hair.

“He looks like you,” Y/N says, acknowledging the bittersweet irony of it all.

Aegon nods, with a sad smile, “indeed.”

Part 2

[izzabela]

Can I request bi han x fem reader.

Reader is sent on a mission in Russia and bi han misses her,sektor tells him to get a phone so it'll be easy to communicate and y/n introduces him to phone sex and they have phone sex.

New Things - Bi Han x fem!reader

in which you introduce Bi Han to something new while away on a mission

a/n: Bi Han with a phone is a crazy idea- i like it

ship[s]: bi han x fem!reader

warning(s): MDNI, porn with semi-plot, phone sex, f!reader = f!genitalia, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, post-kanon story

"He- Hel- Hello? Bi Han?" you voice called, breaking slightly over the phone.

Bi Han put the device close to his ear, your voice finally patching through his phone. He smiles, the only witnesses of this soft act being the walls of his bedroom. He coughs before answering you.

"I can hear you, darling," he responds. "How do you find Russia? Have you eaten yet? Is the mission going well?"

You chuckle at the onslaught of questions, "Cold, but not as cold as home, yes I ate already, and the mission is going decent."

Bi Han sighs, "Good, I am glad you are alright."

Bi Han originally didn't have a phone, hell he was opposed to such devices. He caved after you were gone for a mission a couple months back, and the letter he wrote you was intercepted by the enemy. It was also Sektor's idea, he even accompanied Bi Han in choosing one.

Now, here he was, talking to you over the phone while you were oceans away. Elder gods, what a sight to behold, the grandmaster using technology.

"And you, my dear, is there anything to note back home?" you ask. Bi Han groans as he relays the struggles you were missing out on.

From setbacks to the coding of the cyber-ninjas, to even more dreadful losses with this brotherly war, Bi Han was having a hard time dealing with these setbacks. It was uncharacteristic of him, since he's usually more calculated and put together.

"You sound stressed, my dear," you mention, twirling your hair as get in the bed of the hotel you were staying in. You hear Bi Han sigh over your end of the phone.

"You are greatly missed here, none more so than by me," Bi Han says softly, and you coo at the vulnerability he displayed.

"I also wish I were home," you respond solemnly. It's quiet over the line, the light breathing filling the silence.

That is, until a light bulb is lit in your mind. It's a little risky, but it isn't entirely a bad thing. Just to blow off some steam.

"Darling, would you like to relax?" you ask, but Bi Han is perplexed as he answers you.

"I am unwinding just fine with you on the phone."

You tut him, clicking your tongue as you clarify yourself. Apparently, subtly in words was not his strongest trait.

"Would you like try phone sex?" you blurt out. It's quiet on your end, Bi Han not saying a thing for a couple of beats.

"...What exactly is that?" he asks, his voice sounding lost and confused. You then explain that it would just be them on the phone, whispering dirty things about themselves as they touched themselves rather inappropriately.

TLDR, a horny way to unwind the stress of missing each other.

"I see," is all Bi Han says. "I do not know how to start, though."

You chuckle, "Remaining ever so honest, grandmaster. Do not be worried, though, I can lead us."

You strip down into nothing, putting your phone on speaker as you lay comfortably in your bed. Bi Han still remains in his sleepwear, but he can see that his member is growing erect as the minutes pass.

"For starters, it must feel rather lonely in bed without me," you begin, your voice a little breathy. Bi Han sighs, palming his growing erection as he responds.

"It is, it pains me that you are so far. I cannot hold nor touch you." Bi Han sets his phone down after indulging you, on speaker mode as well so he has... a better range of motion.

"I have only my thoughts to keep me company," you admit, slowly rolling your breasts in your hands.

"Do tell me what you think about when I am not present," Bi Han eggs you with a teasing voice.

"I, uh," you stutter. "I think of how you tease nipples. Your fingers always squeeze them the way I like." Bi Han groans a bit.

"Touch them as I do, then," he tells you, palming his rock-hard dick. "To let you know, I miss the way you stroke me, my dear."

Bi Han gave up on his pants and boxers. His dick was hard and free from its fabric prison, and he was going in constant strokes to mimic the way you did. Bi Han grunts as he touches himself, pumping his dick in his fist as he heard your breath over the phone.

If the wetness between your legs were relayed to a leaky pipe, you were practically bursting at this point. You moan at the though of his hand pumping his cock, trying to emulate your touch. It filled you with pride knowing you left such an impression on him.

You reach down in between your legs, rubbing the wet folds as you imagine your fingers as Bi Han's length. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips through and Bi Han catches your poor attempt of hiding your voice.

"Do not be shy, my darling," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Let me hear you. Touching yourself as you think of me, in and out of your tightness."

Bi Han was getting into it now. Still keeping his constant strokes, he imagines your body on top of him. Visages of your perky nips in his face, your voice bouncing off the walls of the shared room. He can imagine the marks on his back, a great side effect on how well he dicks you down.

For you, you stuck a finger in your wet cunt. Just like Bi Han, you pump the digit in and out of you at a good speed. It hits your good spot perfectly, and the moans you had been so desperate to hide come through and enter Bi Han's ear. He's smirking, and he pumps a little faster.

"Can you hear that? Though you are so far, you still manage to please me," Bi Han's voice is sultry and deep, praising you a job well done (so far).

"Are you this degenerate when you are away?" Bi Han's tone shifts, and it shocks you a little bit. "Touching yourself, desperate to relieve yourself- disgusting."

By the elder gods, he was really leaning into this phone sex business. As much as you want to deny it, you can't help but moan and agree with his degradation of you. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you touched yourself on those occasions where the longing was too much.

You stop yourself and add another finger inside yourself, curling it slightly to hit your g-spot even better. You moan louder, and Bi Han takes it as a sign to go faster in his fist. He's grunting a little louder, and through your ecstasy you can hear a couple of shaky exhales of his breath.

"By the gods, I can just imagine it," Bi Han says breathlessly. "Your fingers won't be enough, not when I have marked you, molded you... made you mine."

You gasp at how dirty his words have become. Gods, he was immersed, and your bodily response was to get even more wet. Practically soaking the sheets underneath you, you respond to the claims Bi Han was acclaiming.

"Yes grandmaster! You've molded me so well- I am yours wholly!"

As you keep pumping yourself, your hand that was previously on your tit is on your pleasuring yourself two-fold as you focus on reaching your high. Bi Han is huffing and puffing now, his hand going up and down as he also chases his peak.

"Very good. Keep the thought of my length as you come," Bi Han says. "Your warmth is all I can think about- I even squeeze my fist to think of how you squeeze around me."

The mention of it makes you squeeze around your fingers, and that was the last sensory necessity for you to zone in on cumming. The feeling of your fingers rubbing your clit, your other fingers going in and out of your tight cunt, and the gentle squeeze to give you more friction, it's sending you over the edge.

Bi Han has a gentle tightness around his cock. He's trying to imagine you squeezing around him, and it works as he can feel his high coming. The thoughts of your body bouncing up and down his cock, your moans ringing in his ears, and the little squelches he can hear from the speaker, send Bi Han into overdrive.

"B-Bi Han!" you cry out. "I- oh gods, I'm close!" Bi Han just grunts in response, muttering under his breath as he's about to peak.

"Bi Han!" you cry out, literally squeaking as your legs twitch and shake as your body begins to relax from your climax. You're breathless, hands damp with your slick, and your body dripping with sweat.

Bi Han also climaxes, calling your name as strings of translucent white coming out. They land on his lower stomach and thighs. His chest heaves up and down, yearning for air as he comes down from his high. He's sticky with sweat, extra sticky near his penile area, and his hand has a bit of his own slickness too.

He reaches for a tissue on his nightstand, and you do the same on the other side of the world. Over the phone, Bi Han can hear you shift on the bed, putting your clothes on and shuffling around the room to clean up. Bi Han is wrapping up his own clean-up operations, putting his clothes on before settling into bed.

"Bi Han darling?" you call for him through the phone. "Are you there?"

Bi Han grabs his phone, "Yes I am." It's a bit quiet before he speaks again. "Did you enjoy?"

You laugh heartily, "Of course! Who knew you were really good at this, my darling~" you drag out the "ing" sound, and he chuckles at your antics.

"Thank you for introducing this to me," he says, calling your name softly. Your face warms, and you can't tell if it's from the warmth of your phone.

"You're welcome, Bi Han. Perhaps we can do this again when I have more time," you offer.

"Finish up the mission, and we won't need to do this over the phone." That's all Bi Han says before he drops an "I love you" and hangs up.

The call drops, and you sleep with motivation to come home.

=====================

phone sex is... odd, but i did finish it. i hope you liked it anon!

still finishing up all my reqs, let's see if i can do it before school starts for me

see yall in the next fic!

[lady-ashfade]

hello :) i’d like to a strawberry cookie for jace (hotd) maybe the stress of the war gets to reader and he helps her out? tyyy 🫶🏼

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Warm Embrace

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!reader

Bakery Event is closed

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Strawberry Macaroon: Imagine + custom trope.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 649

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: terrible thoughts, reader needing comfort, reader just panicking, thoughts about war and loss.

⤻ changed it to macaroon because that’s the sweet you get with your own trope.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🥞 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

The sound of tapping at the widows, the whistling of the wind and the angry sea was unsettling. Horrible events have taken place in past weeks, there wasn’t much time to process or show weakness. And it slowly drove you mad. Walking the halls felt like a haunted and angered place, the silence of only your thoughts and steps are as loud as dragons.

Comfort was a scarce resource lately and only found in the arms of your newly wed husband, Prince Jacaerys. Late at night he’d sneak in at unreasonable hours thinking sleep had come over you, while taking you into his arms to rest as well. There was never a night where you found yourself truly asleep without him near, so when he wasn’t there, it was only cruel moments of being alone with the thoughts and fears.

Again, like every night, you had been cursed with not being able to fall in the warm embrace of slumber. Today was different, you did not try and lie down nor read, but sit at the mirror and continue to comb throughout your hair- unconscious to the world around you. Fear entranced every crevice of your mind and made you envision horrible things. Death of those you love, torturing of yourself- horrible and panicked thoughts that you couldn’t pull out of. 

Unknowingly to you the door had been opened and your husband entered your shared chambers, exhausted from his duties. Tonight he found you in a light room and awake, staring at yourself. “My love,” his voice was soft and low so when you didn’t reacted he changed his tone. Once he called it again, and again, then he used your name with still no answer. He was terrified.

It took him a few more tries mixed with him taking your shoulders and bending down next to your neck, eyes looking back at you in the mirror- you finally noticed.

“Jace?” Once you realize he was here you wondered how long you’ve been out, he usually comes back right before sunrise. “What time is it?”

“Just before dawn, my love.” turning his head he placed a kiss on your temple, a exhale left his nose, “What is happening in that little head of yours?”

Look at your hands and picking the skin of your nails, you felt aware of all the emotions coming through. “I am afraid,” you admitted while tears filled your eyes. “Forgive me, you have endured far greater then I have. I must sound like a heartless fool for being under stress.”

A fool was the final thing he’d ever call you. Throughout all of this he saw no signs of worry, or fear from you that it caused him to worry. While Jace has been falling into your arms he failed to return the favor- something he regrets desperately now.

His arms swept themselves around your body, his head rested onto of yours. He was always warm like a true dragon.

“This war is taking a toll on us all, but if anyone is a fool it has to be me. I have failed my duty as your husband to keep you safe from danger, even if that means from your own worries.” You shook your head in protest.

“No one will blame you for being frightened of what’s to come. I, myself am fearful of the bloodshed, even more so to the one’s I love. But we mustn’t let our fears take over,” losing his hold he traveled his hands up to your jaw and titled your head upward.

“Fear controls us, letting us down the path we dread.” you could feel his breath getting closer and his lips almost touching yours, becoming something you craved.

“I will protect you with all my will, the gods have given me the strength to do so.” And once again, your husband’s embrace takes all worries away.

[ashblooddragons]

In Ripe And Ruin

This was a request by @vavafaure1994 I'm so sorry this took me so long to make! I hope it was worth the wait!

also special thanks to @sugutoad for making this fics moonboard! I don't know what I would do without you girly!

Word Count: 2504

Warnings: semi public sex, dirty talk, oral f receiving, swearing, p in v sex, loss of Virginity, purity kink, blood kink, tell me if I missed anything

Summary: When Lady Elia Martell came to the Red Keep for her little sister's betrothal, she didn't expect to catch the attention of a certain Rouge Prince and most certainly didn't expect this visit to involve her being the one betrothed and not her little sister. also this is my first ever smut so do be kind, I tried my best!

I can’t believe my father agreed to come to the little Prince Jacaerys sixth nameday. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, not after seeing that letter from the heir asking if her son and my youngest sister could be betrothed.

I watch as the soon-to-be betrothed run around together. “She will be Queen one day if we agree to this match. Don’t you wish for Arianne to sit on a throne just as you will sit mine?” My father says as he smiles and waves to the heir to the iron throne. 

“But that is the thing, Father, she will not sit on the throne, only look pretty beside it with that boy's seed leaking down her legs as she clutches her swelled belly.” I fire back through clenched teeth as I smile at what seems to be a prancing lion turned human, and not in a good way. 

“Elia.” He chides

“I speak only the truth you seem to be blind to, Father. What you forget at every turn is that we are not like them, we do not see Bastards as sinful as they do. They will kill my dear sister the moment that diseased King falls from that throne. For they know what we all do, that boy, nor his brothers are true-born Velaryons. No matter how hard the Princess so direly tries to make everyone believe they are. And when the King dies, a war will break out, and I will not let little Arianne be in the middle of it.” I hiss back before walking away as my father calls for me.

I walk over to a food table and pick up a honey cake. “Those are my personal favorites as well.” I hear someone say behind me, his voice sent shivers of exhilaration down my spine. I turn and see none other than The Rouge Prince himself smirking at me.

“Well, that’s a shame for you as this is the last one.” I say as I take a bite with a smirk.

He chuckles and looks at my eyes inquisitively. I know why, though my black ringlets and olive skin say I am a  Martell, but my eyes of vibrant Lavender say I’m a Targaryen. “Viserra’s daughter, Elia Martell right?” He inquires as he reaches for a vine of grapes, popping one into his mouth.

My mother passed birthing me, I’m the only child of Princess Viserra. I’ve been told if it weren’t for my hair and skin tone I’d be her clone and anytime I see her portrait I can’t blame them as I at times think someone had ruined one pf mone own only to realize it is my mother’s. 

“What gave it away?” I tease smiling when he laughs fondly. His laugh a deep and sultry sound and the way he’s looking at me as if I’m a gazelle and he’s a lion about to pounce on its prey and have the most delectable feast, leaves me breathless trying to find my footing again.

“What brings a sand Queen to this shit-filled city? Surely there is more to your visit than just making men think most debauched thoughts.” He says as he reaches for two wine glasses from a servant passing by, handing me one with his signature smirk. 

“I had not meant to make men think such ways, though if they are that is their problem is it not?” I say looking down at my dress, in Dorne it would be seen as normal and lovely dresses fit for the heiress to her families seat. But the dress of the finest silks and chiffon only reserves me disgusted looks and the word ‘whore’ whispered behind me as I pass.

“Hmm, that doesn’t answer my question, why are you here? Dorne only comes here if it is of the utmost importance.” 

“My little sister, Arianne,” I say pointing to her talking to the little Prince Jacaerys. “There’s a possible betrothal between her and the little Prince. I do not think it is the right choice, there is a war to come, you know this just as well as I do there is no avoiding it. I do not want her to be in the middle of something she has no part in. She is too gentle and kind for your cruel and septic city and Kingdom filled with snakes and vultures reader to swallow her whole. I do not like that the Princess is now bringing house Martell into her mess because she can not clean it up on her own. Targaryen problems should stay with the Targaryens” I say seriously.

“Are you not also Targaryen?” He says amused looking me up and down trying to asses me after my little speech.

Underestimated me, you will learn to never do that my Prince. 

“Yes I am, I even claimed the she-dragon Sliverwing, but it is not I the Princess wishes to bring into her problems, it is my sister a girl with no Targaryen blood. If it were me that would be a different story, but it isn’t.” 

“Well, put.” He says as he holds out a hand to me. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?” He asks and I take his hand letting him lead me to the horde of dancing courtiers and ladies. 

“So tell me, I had heard you claimed Sliverwing, though not how you had done it.” He says gripping my waist holding me close enough I feel his breath against my ear sending a shiver of want down my spine.

“I kept seeing something in the clouds, it felt like it was pulling at my very soul, calling to me. One night I couldn’t handle it anymore I left the keep and followed that pull and when I finally felt the end of the string, felt it finally slacken, there she was, as if waiting for me to build the courage to face her. I climbed her back, I didn’t need to say a word she thrust herself into the air letting out a happy roar. I knew then with her wings beating under me what I had done, what every child, especially a Targaryen child dreams of, I claimed a dragon.” 

When I looked up at him again he seemed enthralled with my story. I gasp when I see how close we’ve gotten, our lips only an inch apart only needing one of us to bridge the gap and our lips would be locked. I look him in the eyes and see the lust filling his amethyst pools and I know he sees the same lust in my Lavender ones. 

“It’s interesting that our souls know where we belong before we do, don’t you think?” He asks in a tone that tells me there is a darker, more debauched reason behind this question.

When he turns me in time with the beat of the music I feel dizzy with lust, the only thing grounding me is him grabbing my hands so my arms are crossed against my chest and my back rests against his chest. when I look up at the royal table I see the Crowned Princess glaring at me and the Prince, I see the rage she feels towards me and the want she has for The Rouge Prince.

“And what is your soul telling you now, my Prince?” I ask turning my head to look up at him and when I do I feel his breath fan my lips. I feel a coil of need, of lust, form in my abdomen as I feel the large hardness of him against me.

“That it seems we need privacy.” He says as he grips my hand pulling me through the horde of dancers until he leaves the throne room. He continues to drag me until he finds a secluded corridor, he then turns and kisses me walking me back until my back hits the cool stone of the keep. 

I gasp when he dips his head down and starts to suck and bite at the soft skin of my neck. “How have I lived this long without tasting your sweet lips, sweet skin? Is that cunt of yours just as sweet?” He asks as he rucks up the skirt of my dress, I feel his hand grips my thigh as the other grips my hair keeping my head in place as he devourers my lips again swallowing any moans or whimpers that would escape me. 

I gasp when I feel his fingers graze against my wet core. ���Gods you're already wet, I knew you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” He says as he gets down on his knees in front of me lifting my leg onto his shoulder. 

When I realize what he is trying to do I grip his hair stopping his advancement. “I–I’ve never–.” I stutter out blushing as he gives me a wolfish grin.

“Your telling me this sweet cunt is unspoiled? That I am the first to taste it?” He asks as if in a trance.

“Yes, I still have my maidenhood.” I say breathlessly. 

I gasp at the way he looks up at me after learning of this, it’s the look of a madman, of a man given all he has desired on a silver platter and now it is time for him to feast. 

And with that thought in my mind, he delves forward between my legs to lick at my wet core. I slap my hand to my lips trying to muffle my moans. 

I can’t help but fear someone will hear us, more so me I suppose, as of course he couldn’t bring me to his chambers or even a storage closet, only a secluded corridor where anyone can hear or see us. For some reason the thought of someone catching us excites me, making me clench on nothing.

I feel his tongue inside my core and I move my skirts so I can see him better. When I do I see him smirking up at me as he sucks on my pearl, I throw my head back letting out a loud moan. 

“Seven hells, keep singing for me, love.” I hear him growl against me as he laves at my pearl and he sinks a finger inside me curling it just right to make me see stars. As he licks and sucks, pumps and curls I feel my legs tremble the only thing keeping me up is the Prince.

“Please! Please! Please!” I beg not fully sure for what though all I know is the coil in my gut is hot and tight and I need it to release.

“Not yet, love, you don’t get to peak without me.” He says as he rises back up keeping a grip on my thigh as he unties his trousers. 

When he pulls out what must be his cock I gasp and shack my head. “Th–there's no way that is going to fit.” 

I only hear him chuckle as he kisses my neck again gripping my other thigh so he can lift me and my legs wrap around his waist. “It’ll fit, it may be painful but I’ll make it fit.” 

I feel him tap the head of his cock to my pearl making me whimper before he positions himself to my core stretching me to the point of pain. I bite his shoulder fighting back my scream of pain as tears roll down my face. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love just relax.” He whispers as he hisses as he tries to push his way through. “Fuck your a vice, you weren’t lying about being a maiden.” He groans

I continue to cry and whimper as I bite his shoulder until he pushes his way through till he bottoms out, once he does I feel something snap.

He rests his brow to mine waiting for me to relax before he moves, he kisses my tears as they fall slower and slower now as the pain subsides to want and need. I try and move my hips silently imploring him to move, and when I look up at him again I see him smirking down at me. 

“Please.” I whimper out.

“Please what, love?” He teases and I look up at him pleadingly. “Tell me what you need.”

“Move, please move.” I say not knowing what else to say to convey my need.

He lets an animalistic growl as he starts to thrust into me, gripping my hips and plush thighs. I bite my lip trying to hold back my moans only letting the whimpers and whines of pleasure leave my throat.

“Fuck, look at that mess.” I hear him groan as he looks down at where we meet. When I pick my dress up more so I can see what he speaks of,  I see the smear of blood coating his cock and white hairs upon his pelvis. 

“I’m sorry.” I moan out gripping his shoulders tighter as he thrusts into me faster and harder. 

“Don’t be, love, it’s a welcome sight.” He says before capturing my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless as he fucks me against the stone wall. 

I moan into his lips until he pulls back looking me in the eyes as he hits me where I see stars. “You won’t need to worry for your sister anymore, love. For she won’t be needed for an alliance anymore once I fuck my babe into you and wed you before the gods.” 

I can only moan and nod my head in response completely lost to the pleasure he is giving me. He continues to thrust into me hitting me each time in the spot that makes my mind go black. That is until he grips my hair and makes me look at him.

“Fucking say your mine, say you’re made for me.” He demands as he continues to thrust into me.

“I’m your, my Prince, all yours.” I gasp out feeling my peak on the precipice 

“Daemon.” He growls out.

“Wh–what?”

“Call me by my fucking name.” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust. 

“Daemon! Daemon! Daemon!” I cry out as my peak crashes over me in sharp suffocating waves. I swear I hear him groan as he releases his spend in me but I can’t be sure as all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

Once we’ve both come down from our highs he sets me on my own two feet again steadying me as my legs still tremble. I try and ignore the feel of his sticky seed leaking from my core and roll down my legs.

“Did you mean it? Did you mean what you said of marrying me?” 

“Yes.” Is all he says in return.

I don’t know why I believe him, but when I look into his eyes I find nothing but conviction and honesty.

Seems my sister won’t be getting betrothed after all, but me instead. this is most definitely not how I thought this night would go. I think with a chuckle as I kiss the Pri-Daemon again saying in all but words I accept.

Taglist @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1

[prettyb0ycvnt]

hi freaks of tumblr . here's my introduction post teeheehee <3

my name is aiden ! i am an eighteen year old queer trans man - pre-op and pre-t unfortunately ... but whatever im still hot. giggles and twirls hair.

more about me :3

☆ freakiest virgin you've ever met. i'd like that to CHANGE but uhhghhh the most i can get is freaks on tumblr (hit me up lalalala)

☆ real life prince charming pupboy :3 !!!

☆ literally not an ounce of dominance inside me at ALL i'm very submissive!!!! to an insane extent!!!

☆ bottom.

☆ perpetually in heat actually. need that to be rectified

☆ bst timezone. british twink moving like Oh Good Heavens... Oh My... Good Grief...

☆ my asks are open all the time to anyone! dms are open for mutuals only (i'm totally open to conversation & sharing things with moots as long as ur respectful!!). i prefer getting asks; i'm bad with managing messages. also feel free to dm or ask me stuff if you just wanna be friends!!! blank blogs do not message me it weirds me out x

☆ i'm a writer! my posts may tend to get real descriptive if i'm not hornied-out beyond all comprehensive thought!!

☆ i am transgender and a lot of the stuff i post will focus on this :3 !!! my posts will reference fem biology but i'm not a girl don't call me one or i'll rip my hair out and die.

☆ im a queer man !! still fully figuring out where my attraction lies but i do know i have a very heavy male pref. please don't repost my stuff if you're a cishet blogger or a 'men dni' blog im literally a. man and i love men and i talk about loving men and im the antithesis of everything u stand for . all queer freaks (including. wlw!!!) can do whatever they want with my posts :3

☆ some of my non-freakish interests include acting, literature, writing, baking, reading and certain fandoms that i don't want to explicitly reference in case this post appears to them uhm feel free to ask me about them!!!

claimed anons: 😵💫 ; 👾 ; 🪰; 🍁 ; ⚒ ; 🍓 ; 🐈‍⬛ ; 🎈

dni: minors, MAPs, bigots of any kind, trans fetishisers, ed & sh blogs, ageless blogs, weirdo freaks of the bad kind!!

tags

#☆ aiden's corner -> silly thoughts of mine!! sometimes they r Slightly lesser hornyposting... sometimes they're just funny things ithink of. sometimes its just me talking about whateva welcum to aiden's corner !!

#☆ aiden's freakish thoughts -> hornyposting to the maxxxx.... under this tag im a FREAAKKK

#☆ aiden's pics -> me lawl. usually just tummy :3

#☆ aiden's audio -> aiden whines like a bitch

#☆ reblogs -> stuff i find relatable or stuff i find super duper hot . perhaps both at the same time!!

#☆ anon -> answering anonymous asks!

#☆ asks -> when used alone, answering non-anon asks! also used in conjunction with #☆ anon :3

me if u even care

okay thats all i can think of rn ummm anyway. stuff i'm into & limits under the cut :3

i looove >_< !!!

praise, degradation, breeding, petplay, major voice kink!, exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, free-use, cockwarming, royalty, dumbification, somnophilia, forcemasc and ummm probably more you should totes talk to me so we can find out!

limits >:[ !!!

detrans/misgendering, forced feminisation, scat, bestiality, watersports, blood, basically any bodily fluids that aren't cum or spit, intox related to alcohol specifically, anything to do with feet, feederism, weight gain/weight loss, incest/fauxcest, ageplay, rape, daddy/mommy, pregnancy, basically everything else that's super fucking weird and unethical. -> if you're into these things that's totally fine!! i'd just prefer they're not brought up in regards to myself ^_^

bodily terms for myself :3

not on t nor have i had surgery so i still very much have female parts and im fine with them being referred to as such!!! acceptable terms include cunt, pussy/boypussy, slit, hole, clit, chest, tits, (t-)cock& (t-)dick !! all i ask is that the term vagina is not used.

things i like being called >_<

please refer to me with masculine or neutral terms, nothing feminine. degrading terms like whore, bitch, slut and any other varieties (cumslut, etc.) are 100% okay! in fact please call me them!! praising terms like good boy are wooonderful. call me puppy/pup and ill explode and die (in a good way!!!) tbh literally call me anything as long as its not feminine and i'll love it. lalalalaa

[the-fiction-witch]

You're Very Welcome

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Nadirianna / Nadi Rating - 12 Word Count -1427

Elrond, weary from the battle of Ost-in-Edhil, sought refuge on a cluster of rocks. The elves had finally stumbled upon a suitable spot to set up camp and take much-needed rest. Having devoted himself to tending to Galadriel's wounds, Elrond now found himself in a state of anxious anticipation, wondering if his efforts would prove fruitful in her recovery or if the days Elrond had slaved over her wounds were for nought. As he sat on the rocky terrain, the weight of the ring of power still resting on his finger, he took a moment to reflect and catch his breath after enduring the tumultuous events that had unfolded.

His mind felt heavy and his heart in his boots still feeling a deep loss for all of Celebrimbor’s work that the orcs burned in the siege, the countless hours many had spent noting his work, the years of knowledge, now lost to time. He felt so guilty for all who had lost their lives, all the history and knowledge lost, of everything that had been destroyed.

A young elf maiden slowly approached him, in a dirty light blue gown, her hair crudely fixed into a tight braided bun, with a large bag at her side, "Herald Elrond. Goodness! Are you alright?" She asked leaning down at his side deeply worried,

"I am well. just a flesh wound, nothing I haven't recovered from before," he said doing his best to reassure her,

But she didn't seem convinced sitting at his side, "Let me clean and wrap it at least?"

Elrond smiled at her kindly, "oh very well," he said, he looked her up and down as she dug in her bag and he spoke up, "and who are you exactly may I ask, I don't believe I've seen you before."

She smiled pulling out a small wooden box and opening it up to reveal a sort of elvish medical kit with cloths, bandages, herbs and such like, she took a cloth and begining to dap away the dirt and blood from the battle off his skin. "Nadirianna." She smiled, "or just Nadi."

Elrond found her name lovely and simple. He sat still and quietly as she tended to his wound and he felt a warm but small rush of calmness at her touch, "Nadi.." he said quietly to himself as if testing her name on his tongue. he watched her closely a moment as she worked, almost studying her in a way. she was pretty, to say the least, but there was something about her that made her stand out from other elves. he looked down at her hand as she dabbed cloth to his face gently, the way she touched him was almost... tender. When she finished wiping his face he was almost sad to have her hands no longer on him. he couldn't stop himself before he spoke. "Thank you.." he said quietly in his gentle tone. he looked into her eyes, "wherever did you come from?" he asked her almost as if he was studying her eyes and face trying to place if he had seen her before,

"my father from Valinor. I'm afraid I am a child of Middle Earth. Rare for elves I know." She nodded, "this may sting." She said quickly adding some powder to his cut to help it heal, "I lived most of my life in Ost-in-Edhil."

Elrond felt his breath hitch slightly at the slight burn of the powder she applied to his cut but he remained quiet and still. "Ost-in-Edhil you say..?" he said a little surprised.

"mhm, I worked... As celebrimbors scribe." She nodded her tone shifting to sadness,

Elrond felt his heart grow sombre when she said she worked with Celebrimbor. Elrond also shared her sadness at the loss of his friend and all his friend's work that he had worked so hard to protect, he looked at her "I'm sorry" he said in a comforting tone, his hand falling to hers softly taking it,

she sniffled and continued bandaging his cheek, "Tears will not return his work. Nor his light."

Elrond watched as she continued to bandage his cheek. he knew she was correct, crying wouldn't change anything. but the heart does not always listen to reason. he felt the urge to pull her close, to offer her the comfort of an embrace, he couldn't explain where this feeling came from.

"There it should all be well but of course take care of it." She said softly,

Elrond smiled back. His thumb softly moved back and forth against her hand, his chest felt tight. the urge to pull her close to him was growing. but he couldn't bring himself to do so. not yet anyhow. "thank you. I'll be sure to take plenty of care of it." he almost felt like his voice wanted to shake as he spoke to her,

"you're welcome." She smiled, "here." She said pressing a small kiss to his bandage, "that should help you feel a little better",

Elrond felt his heart stop the moment her lips pressed to his bandage. it was small and gentle, but it was enough to nearly take his breath from him.

He almost found his hand holding tighter to her hand. he felt the need to keep her close, not wanting her to leave. he let out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. He chuckled softly at her little jest of a kiss making him feel better. but he almost felt as if she really had and that the feeling of her gentle lips on his face was all he needed to heal, But he slowly took her hand from his allowing her to go,

"oh and before I forget!" Nadi jumped, "It's not much I know. But I did what I could. Hopefully, it can be of some comfort and peace." As she spoke, she reached down and carefully tugged her leather bag into view. With a sense of urgency, she unclasped the worn bag and gingerly pulled out a collection of delicate scrolls. These precious items were salvaged from Celebrimbor's workshop just before the city fell to the ferocious onslaught of the orcs.

Elrond's heart pounded with anticipation as he laid eyes on the scrolls. Emotion surged within him, and he found himself on the verge of tears as he gazed down at the writings. A broad smile spread across his face as he delicately accepted the scrolls from Nadi. His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully unfurled them, revealing the familiar script of Celebrimbor. The sight of his handwriting felt like a balm to Elrond's soul, and he could scarcely believe the treasure before him. Overwhelmed with joy, he lifted his gaze to Nadi, his voice filled with emotion as he spoke."These scrolls. You saved them.." he said looking at her in awe. His eyes looked at her as if he were in disbelief that in the midst of everything she saved even this small amount of Celebrimbor’s work,

"I did my best... I only wish I'd gotten more."

He carefully rolled the scrolls back together before lifting his gaze to meet hers. With tenderness, he cupped her face in his hands, drawing her close until they were sitting face to face. His thumb traced gentle circles on her cheeks, and as he felt the overwhelming urge to pull her into his embrace and feel her warmth, a fierce internal struggle ensued. He fought against the impulse, determined to maintain his composure. "You are the most wondrous, the most extraordinary being in all of Middle Earth," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and reverence. "You are an angel in human form, and I cannot express the depth of my gratitude, nor can I fathom the extent of my debt to you. Middle Earth owes you a debt that can never be fully repaid, Nadirianna. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you." With these heartfelt words, he proceeded to shower her face with tender kisses.

Nadi giggled uncontrollably as Elrond showered her with kisses, but her giggles were suddenly stopped when one of those rapid kisses happened to hit her lips. For a brief flash of time neither noticed.

But Elrond immediately moved back, “Oh Uhh I Nadi… forgive me I uh-”

“It’s alright,” she blushed, “Overcome with excitement I understand,” She nodded, “Well… Take care of yourself Herald Elrond,”

“Yes, I will Thank you.” he nodded,

She smiled and got to her feet going to continue her work,

“Nadi.”

“Yes, Elrond?”

“I mean my words, truly.” He said, “I am in debt to you for this, Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled before she went on her way, 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

I Know You Didn't Sign On For This

Season Three Episode Five (Midseason finale)

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader (Aaron Hotchner’s Sister)

Words: 5342

Series Masterlist

Summary: A killer returns in his efforts to torment Aaron. Forced to stay behind, the reader must grapple with the possibility of loss. 

Notes: To be fair… I did warn you. When I began this series, I realized that I’d have to do this episode because of the time frame I laid out and man, did it hurt to finally get here. This is a doozy, but I hope you guys like it. I actually had a really good time writing it (is that bad haha?) Also, I decided to split up this season so that I could work on part two while part one was posting. I’m hoping to have part two done by January. (fingers crossed) Thank you guys for all the love! 

-

After

You couldn’t look her in the eye, not without wanting to tear her apart. She pressed record. 

“Let’s start with why you were unofficially brought in to accompany the team in their pursuit of a dangerous fugitive.” 

“Don’t.” 

Strauss clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “Don’t what, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another civilian.” 

“You are not a federal agent and you did not have the clearance nor the authority to be on that search.” 

“The only safe place for me was with the team and you know it.” You wanted to scream, wanted to throw something, wanted to slap that high and mighty expression off of the section chief’s face. 

“We would have put you in protective custody,” Strauss reasoned. 

“And look how well that turned out,” you snapped back. 

She leaned back in her chair. 

You leaned forward. “And don’t you dare try to pin some protocol bull against Agent Hotchner because he told me exactly what you just did. But in the end, we both knew the only place Foyet couldn’t get me was with the BAU team.”

“With your fiance.” She watched you, analyzing every word, every tick. 

“I was stationed with Dr. Reid, yes.” You crossed your arms. “Since he had to stay out of the field due to his leg injury, he primarily remained at Kassmyer’s house where several officers were working the crime scene. I figured it was the best place for me to stay out of the way and to stay with the most people with guns in case Foyet changed his route.”

“But you didn’t expect him to do that,” she said, “did you?”

“No.” You swallowed, your hard exterior faltering for a moment. “I didn’t.”  

Strauss glanced down at the paper in front of her. “Can you describe your interactions with S.S.A Hotchner on the day of the incident?” 

You scoffed, smiling bitterly as you stood. “We’re done here.” 

“Miss Y/L/N, sit down.”

“As you so graciously pointed out, Agent Strauss-” You growled, gripping the edge of the table. “I am not one of your agents. So we’re done here.” 

She opened her mouth to argue. 

You grabbed the door handle. 

“If you have any more questions, you can call my damn lawyer.” You walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard you thought the glass would break. 

-

Before

You knew before the agents ran by your door that something was going on. Aaron had been more alert than usual, more insistent that you don’t stray too far from the BAU or your apartment. Spencer had been more attentive, making sure that you were sleeping alright and that you didn’t go anywhere alone. 

But it was when Emily checked in on you that you knew something was going on. 

“What happened?” You asked. 

“I wish I could tell you, Y/N, but we don’t know enough,” she said, hurrying away again. 

With each agent that went by, you started to put the pieces together. 

They found him. 

-

“Stay here.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Aaron’s eyes blazed in a way that almost scared you. Almost. 

“I can’t sit in the office and wait for you guys to find him.” You crossed your arms, looking to Spencer for some help. 

“Y/N, the safest place for you-” Spence started. 

“Is with all of you.” You ran your fingers through your hair, not even realizing how much you were shaking. “Look, I have almost died in my own home, I’ve been attacked in my brother’s apartment, and I have been taken from a police station,” you snapped. “I am going with you.” 

“Anderson,” Aaron said. 

The agent came running. 

Hotch gave you a hard stare. “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you snapped, taking a step to leave. 

Anderson stepped in your way. 

Aaron sighed. “Just… stay safe. I’ll have Garcia update you when she can.” 

“Aaron, please.” You tried again, but Anderson just gave you an apologetic look and stayed in place. “You can’t leave me here.”

He didn’t say anything else. Your brother turned and left, shoulders tense and fists clenched at his sides. 

Spencer gave you a small, awkward smile. “It’s safest for you to stay here. I don’t want to think what he would-” He shuddered. 

“Spencer, please let me come with you,” you pleaded, taking his hand. “Aaron can’t do this alone.”

“He won’t be alone.” Spence brought your hand to his lips. “We’re going to get Foyet, Y/N.”

“Not if he gets you first,” you muttered, blinking back angry, terrified tears. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering against your skin. “I love you.”

“Spence-”

“I’ll call you if I can.” 

Spencer hurried out before you could inevitably change his mind. Hotch was right. Protocols and everything aside, you would only be in more danger going after Foyet. Still, leaving that room made his heart hurt. 

You gritted your teeth to keep from screaming in frustration and fell back into Aaron’s chair. 

“We haven’t officially met.” Anderson cleared his throat and awkwardly stuck out his hand. 

You simply glared in return. 

-

Reid hated it. He hated leaving you behind, leaving you in the dark. The fear in your voice echoed through his head and made his chest feel tight. He’d left you just like he’d left you at the police station. You were right. Nowhere was safe. And he’d left you. 

“Reid,” Morgan’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

They were on the way to Arlington to find ‘Peter Rhea.’ Or, as Reid had figured out- The Reaper. Reid sat in the car, his knee bouncing anxiously while he stared out of the window. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

Morgan looked at him through the rearview, Rossi in the passenger seat beside him. 

“Anderson’s sticking with Y/N at the BAU, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she’s safe, kid,” he reassured him, turning into the parking lot of the building they were meeting at. 

“That’s what we said at Fairfax,” he muttered, using his crutch to help him out of the car. 

While they were getting set up, waiting to move in, you were pacing your office, watching for your guard dog outside. Anderson had been in and out all day, running to find information and to make calls that would help with the case. If you just waited for the right moment…

It felt like every inch of you was screaming. Like your barely healing scars were ready to burst open and bleed life right out of you. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if you could hold it all in. 

Spencer stood amongst the SWAT team and his team and wished he could do something. Even without his leg injury, his brain wasn’t any help. He could predict where Foyet would be, but that didn’t matter if they didn’t get there in time. 

Images from countless nightmares came flooding back to him. Pictures of Foyet’s knife piercing your stomach, slicing across your skin, his sick smile slick with your blood as you tried to speak through it. You, in the hospital bed, flatlining. The patchwork of your body after the doctors did the best they could to stitch you up.

What if he went after you again? 

You gulped down a glass of water with a shaking hand, a part of you still wishing it was something stronger. Anderson had gotten called away, something about Foyet not being at the apartment. 

Your phone rang. 

“Sam?” You answered. 

Why would the Marshall be calling you?

“Sam, what’s happened?”

“That’s cute. Was he going to be your handler too if you hadn’t been so stubborn?” 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Foyet.” 

“Hello, darling.” George Foyet grinned into the receiver. “You know, I’ve always regretted that we didn’t have more time together.” 

“Come get me and we will,” you snapped, already gathering your things. 

There was only one reason he’d have Sam Kassmeyer’s phone. 

“Ooo, so feisty. So fun. And yet so… been there, done that.” You heard an engine start. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up about the agenda for today. It’s so unfair that they’re making you miss out on all the fun.” 

“If you tell me where you’re going, I can join you.” You picked up your keys. “We’ll all have a great time.” 

Foyet clicked his tongue in scolding. “Now, Y/N, that would be cheating.” Wherever he was, he was pulling away from the sound of his car. Even if you got there in time, he’d be long gone. Just another chase. “Tell Aaron I send my love.” 

He hung up.

You tried to call Aaron, but he didn’t answer. He was either too busy or too pissed off at you to pick up. You didn’t have time to try and reach them through Garcia. If Foyet had been to Kassmeyers, then the agent was either dead or dying. 

“Goddamnit,” you exclaimed, almost throwing your phone across the room. Instead, you took a deep breath, pulled yourself together, and opened your door. Anderson was busy with a call, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip out. 

Foyet was going after Hailey and Jack, and he’d just found the perfect way to get to them.

You just hoped Aaron reached them first. 

-

Spencer spotted you first. With Hotch still with the US Marshall who was bleeding out on the floor, everyone could only stand by and watch. He’d just glanced out of the window when he saw you running up the sidewalk, your panicked face lit up by the blue and red lights of the approaching ambulance. 

“Uh, Hotch,” he said. 

Morgan and Prentiss both turned. 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Morgan said. 

“How did she know to come here?” Prentiss asked. 

Spencer opened the door, frowning. “Y/N, what are you-”

“Is Kessmeyer okay?” You asked through heavy breaths. “I got a call from Foyet from his phone, so I knew that he would be-” You pushed inside and saw the blood. “Oh god.”

The wall of agents kept you from getting too close. Spence put a hand on your arm. 

“You can’t be here.” 

“Did you say you got a call from Foyet?” Prentiss exclaimed. 

“What the hell is she doing here?” Aaron asked, not getting up from Sam’s side. 

You ignored him, nodding at Emily. “He called me from Sam’s phone. I have it in case I needed to-” You took a deep breath and looked away from the blood. “He wanted me to know what he was doing. He wanted to taunt me because he knew I was stuck at the BAU. I came here because I was worried Marshall Kessmeyer might be hurt.” 

The paramedics moved you all out of the way. 

“Gunshot wounds to each leg, one foot, he’s missing several fingers and appears to be badly beaten,” Reid told them without blinking. 

“Christ.” You ran a hand down your face, trying to see over the couch where the Marshall lay. 

The paramedics moved in. Aaron stood to let them work, Kassmeyer still trying to tell him something. He turned his burning gaze to you.

“I told you to stay.”

“And I tried to call you,” you fired back. “Foyet called me. He wanted me to know he knew where I was. He wanted me to know where he was going.” 

“You can’t be here,” he snapped, his cool fury more terrifying than any shout. “This is an active pursuit of a dangerous criminal. You cannot be here.”

Other officers were showing up, ready to treat the house as a crime scene. 

The paramedics wheeled Sam out. He tried to talk to Aaron through the blood in his mouth. 

Hotch clenched his jaw and took a breath. 

“Reid, stay here with Y/N. Make sure she does not try to follow us,” he ordered. He pointed at you as he went to follow Sam. “We will talk about this later.”

“Come back alive and you can yell at me all you want, Aaron.” 

He gave you a final glance and the anger in his gaze flickered soft for a moment, revealing the relief of seeing that you were alright. Aaron hurried out. 

You looked around at the group of agents, crossing your arms as a sudden chill ran over you. 

“He found them,” you said. “He found them and now-” You put a hand over your mouth to keep the cries back. 

Spencer pulled you into his arms without hesitating. You were tense against him, shaking from the effort of trying to hold yourself together. He rubbed your back in the way that always helped you calm down. 

“We’re going to find them first,” he whispered. 

Reid looked over your shoulder at the team. 

A darkness hung over all of them and no one looked at you. 

“I want him gone,” you said against his shoulder. 

“I know.”

“What if he’s already there? What if Hayley and Jack are already-”

“We have to assume they’re alive.” JJ stepped towards you. “Like any case.”

“But this is any case.” You moved away from all of them, closer to the door. “This is The Reaper. This is Foyet. The man who attacked the strongest person I know in his own apartment. The one who almost killed me. Nothing about this is like any case.” Your voice bordered on hysterical. 

JJ frowned. “I just meant that-”

“I can’t just stay here and wait for something to happen.” You reached for the doorknob. 

Spencer grabbed your hand. 

Logic returned to your system. 

His eyes pleaded with yours. “Stay with me.” 

You closed your eyes, took a breath, and let him pull you back to his side. 

“I’ll call the U.S. Marshalls, see what they can tell us,” JJ said. She stepped away to make the call, but the others just stood there, each of them trying to wrap their heads around what the hell was going on. 

Dave, who had been talking to one of the paramedics before Aaron left, put a hand on your shoulder. 

“We’ll find them, kid.”

You could only hope that he was right.

-

When Hotch called, he didn’t mention you. He needed to forget that you were there, to push him to the back of his mind so he wouldn’t turn around and handcuff you to his side so you could never be in harm's way again. Then again, it was with him that you’d been hurt so many times before. 

He hung up with the team and dialed a different number. 

Emily sighed, listening to Penelope. From the tech’s side of the call, there was a series of beeps. 

“What’s that?”

Somehow, you already knew. 

Penelope’s tone changed, flat with shock. “Hotch is calling Foyet.” 

You held Spencer’s hand tighter. 

“Damnit, Aaron.” 

The phone rang and you all listened. 

Foyet answered. “Agent Hotchner.” 

“If you touch her-” Aaron started, the fury and fear evident in his usually controlled tone. 

“Be gentle?” Foyet mocked. “Like I was with you?” He chuckled, the sound sending shivers up your spine. “Or your sister? Y/N seems well, by the way. Even though you’ve got her locked up in that ivory tower of yours. Such a pretty thing. A little old for me, but-” he clicked his tongue. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to pay her a visit one more time.” 

You tried not to show it, but it felt like your whole body had started to shake. Every word he said was like the knife slicing into you all over again. 

“What the hell took you so long?” Foyet asked. “I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something.” 

Aaron remained silent. 

Foyet noticed. “Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you’re frustrated.”

“Bastard,” you muttered, trying to keep your breathing steady. 

Spencer held you a little closer. 

“I’m not frustrated,” Hotch finally responded. “You’re more predictable than you think.” 

“Am I?”

“You didn’t know where Haley was so you made her come to you.” 

“You make me sound lazy.” 

“Just another way for you to show control.” 

What are you doing, Aaron? You wondered. You watched the reactions of everyone on the team, but they were all listening as intently as you were. 

“Oh that’s terrible,” Foyet said, his voice jeering. 

“Your mother tried to protect you from your father, but she wasn’t strong enough.”

“You make me sound like you’re sister,” Foyet snapped. It was barely perceptible, but you could hear the slight edge of frustration rising in him. “Or maybe just you.”

Aaron ignored him. “You hated her for that, didn’t you? You decided all women were weak.” 

“Those are your words, not mine.” 

Their words melded together in your mind as a different scene took over your thoughts. 

“She’s so pretty, Aaron. You didn’t tell me your sister was pretty,” Foyet said as he drove the knife into your side.

“Aaron…” You were losing consciousness from the hit you’d taken to the head, but you could take in every ounce of pain. 

Your brother laid across from you, his blood pooling on the carpet around him. If you could get The Reaper to focus on you, maybe Aaron would make it. 

“Is that…” You struggled to speak. “All you’ve got?”

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” The voice on the phone brought you back. “Haley looks pretty good with dark hair. She’s lost some weight. Must be all the stress you’ve caused her.” 

“Oh god,” you mouthed, bringing your hand up to keep from making a sound. Spencer held you close, but even he was still with shock and fear. 

“Where’s the little man?” Foyet wondered. “Oh, there he is. Does he like Captain America because of you?” 

A different phone began to ring. 

“That’s your wife,” Foyet said. “Hold please.” He answered the other line. “Mrs. Hotchner.”

“I’m here.”

“Open the gate and I’ll drive in.” 

“Okay.” 

Just the sound of her voice made you want to scream, to warn her. 

Aaron would make it in time. He had to. 

But you didn’t even know where they were. 

“Aaron,” Foyet spoke on the other phone again. “I really got to go.” 

The line went dead. 

Gate. Somewhere with a gate. 

You went rigid in Spencer’s arms, your eyes darting back and forth like you were reading something in front of you. 

“The gate.” 

Emily turned to you. “What?” 

“One time, in high school, I had to jump over the gate to sneak back in after going to some concert Aaron didn’t want me to go to. He said it was too exposed, too many drunk adults. I could get hurt. I, of course, didn’t care, and got beer spilled all over me. Haley caught me and smelled the beer. She said it would be our secret.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Derek asked. 

“The house. Foyet took them to the house, to Aaron and Haley’s house.” 

Morgan nodded. “He has to be in control. He wants to take over Hotch’s home.” 

The place that had once been your home would now be a warzone. 

“We have to go,” you said. 

Dave shook his head. “The best thing you can do for your brother is to stay safe and stay away.” 

“But-”

“Reid?”

“I’ll stay with her.” Spence kept his grip on your hand as the other members of the team rushed out of the house. 

You could have fought. You could have kicked and screamed and forced Spencer to let you go. But you had no weapon, no bulletproof vest, and no clue as to what you would do when you got there. If anything, you’d make it all worse. 

It was up to them now. 

Garcia called. 

“Where’s Y/N? Anderson said she left and I can’t find her anywhere in the BAU and-” Her shrill voice sent a pang of guilt through your chest. 

“I’m here, Penelope. I’m with Spencer. The others are going after Aaron.” 

“Oh thank god,” she sighed. “When I find you, I’m going to give you such a big hug and then I’m going to yell at you for scaring me.” 

“Keep us on with everyone,” Spence said. Something he’d later regret. 

Penelope paused. “Foyet’s calling Hotch.” 

Derek spoke from a different line, driving. “Garcia, can you get us on?” 

Aaron answered. “Foyet?”

But it wasn’t Foyet that spoke. 

“Aaron?” 

It was Haley. 

-

After

He sat across from you, hands clasped in his lap, waiting quietly for you to say something. 

Dr. Lance Sweets looked at the journal you’d placed on the table. He glanced back up at you. 

“Did you write about it?” He asked softly. 

You shook your head. 

Waiting for your permission, he picked up the journal to look at the last entry. 

“Why did you decide to bring it with you today, Y/N?” 

You met his eyes but he could tell you weren’t really looking at him. 

“I was hoping you could tell me how,” you said. 

“How what?”

“How I’m supposed to write about it?” You tried to keep your voice even, but every word felt broken. “How I’m supposed to wrap it all up in a neat little summary so I can get on with feeling better.”

“No one expects-”

“I know what everyone expects,” you snapped. “They expect me to grieve and to hurt and to fall apart. But I can’t do that. I can’t be the weak one anymore. Aaron needs me more than ever now so I need you to tell me how I’m supposed to get over listening to the person I called my sister die over the goddamn phone. Can you just help me do that?”

You didn’t realize you were shouting until you were forced to catch your breath. 

Dr. Sweets waited and set the journal Spencer gave you back on the table. 

“Sorry,” you whispered. 

“It’s okay.”

“No. It isn’t.” 

He took a breath, nodding. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

“I should have died,” you said suddenly. “Did I tell you that? The doctors said it was a miracle I survived, let alone without any major permanent damage.” You laid a hand where you knew the scar was. “Other than needing a new kidney.” 

“What makes you say you should have died?” Lance leaned forward. 

“Maybe if I had, he would have been satisfied, you know?” A tear slipped down your cheek. You didn’t stop it. “Maybe Foyet wouldn’t have kept going. Maybe-” You inhaled sharply. “But instead I-” I chose to come back. 

“George Foyet was a serial killer who wanted to hurt Agent Hotchner in any way he could,” Lance said. “He was never going to stop.”

“I know.” 

“There is nothing you could have done to stop him, Y/N.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked. 

Lance gave you a caring, supportive nod and leaned back again. 

“Then let’s start over, huh?”

You nodded, brought your knees to your chest, and broke down. 

-

Before

Everything stopped. If she had the phone that meant…

Spencer, realizing, reached to hang up. He stopped when you shot him a look that said ‘Don’t you dare.’

“You’re okay?” Haley sounded surprised and relieved. 

Aaron took a second to answer, his voice straining. “I’m fine.”

“But, he said that-” She stopped herself. The fear set in. “Oh, Aaron.” 

“He can hear us, right?” 

“Yes.” Her breathing shook. “I am so sorry.”

“Haley, show him no weakness, no fear.” 

“I know.” Haley calmed herself enough to keep it together. “Sam told me all about him.” She put together another piece. “Is he, um-”

“No, Sam is fine.” Aaron kept his hand on the wheel even as everything spun out of control. His heart pounded in his chest and it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his tone steady. 

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” Foyet scolded. “Is that why your marriage broke up, because you’re a liar.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Haley.” 

“I have Sam’s service phone right here.” 

You stared at the large blood stain on the carpet, unable to move. 

Foyet continued. “They sent out a mass text about his death. You can take a look if you want.”

You turned to Spencer. 

He cast his gaze to the ground and nodded. 

“He’s trying to scare you.” It was getting harder for Aaron to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

“Did you even tell her what this was about?” 

No. Aaron thought. Please no. 

“About the deal?” 

“He’s just trying to make you angry.” Aaron checked the street he was on. He wasn’t close enough. If he could just be faster…

“Well, she should be. She’s gonna…” Foyet paused. You could hear Jack playing in the background. “D-I-E because of your inflated ego.” 

You shook your head, muttering. “Don’t listen to him, Haley. Don’t.” 

“Ignore him, Haley,” Aaron said.

“I’m sure you don’t want her to know this part, either. You know, all he had to do was stop looking for me and you wouldn’t be in this mess?” Foyet mocked.

“Don’t react.” Aaron blinked back tears, feeling like his foot would break the gas pedal. 

“What is he talking about?” Haley asked. 

There was a long, painful silence. 

You gripped the back of the sofa like your life depended on it, numb tears making their way down your face. 

Spencer didn’t know what to do. With all of his training and knowledge and studies, he didn’t know what to do. 

“Tell Jack I need him working the case,” Aaron finally said. 

“What?” 

“Tell Jack I need him working the case.”

You wracked your brain trying to understand what he meant, but you understood one thing. He knew how this was going to end.

Haley cleared her throat and forced a smile into her voice. “Jack, did you hear that?” 

The phone switched hands and the next voice made Aaron’s chest ache even more. 

“Hi, Daddy.”

Aaron’s voice finally cracked. “Hi, buddy.”

You punched the back of the couch and pushed away from it, starting to pace. If he touches that little boy…

“Is George a bad guy?” Jack asked, so sweet and innocent it made your tears fall harder. 

“Yes, he is.” Aaron composed himself. “Jack, I need you on this case with me. Do you understand? I need you to work the case with me.” He could only hope he would understand. That he would remember. 

“Okay, daddy.”

“Jack, hug your mom for me.” 

You finally put it together and froze. 

He knew how this was going to end. 

Spencer took a step toward you, but you stayed back, both of you listening to the silence of a son’s unknowing goodbye. 

“Mommy hug me too tight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t know how Haley was doing it. Maybe this is what it really meant to be a mother. 

“Why are you sad?” Jack asked. 

“Oh, I just love you so much.” 

“He has to make it in time,” you said, barely loud enough for Spencer to hear. “He has to get there. He-”

“Mommy, I gotta go. I’m working the case.”

Haley let go again. “Okay.” 

Small footsteps signaled Jack’s escape. 

“He’s so cute,” Foyet’s voice returned. “He’s like a little junior G-man. I’ll be right up, Jackie boy!” 

“You stay away from him,” you growled, though you knew he couldn’t hear you. 

Aaron could barely hold the steering wheel steady, he gripped it so tight. “Is he gone?” 

“Yes.” Haley fought her tears.

“You’re so strong, Haley,” Aaron said. “Stronger than I ever was.” 

You thought of every movie night she would put on to make you feel better, every nightmare she’d woken you up from. You thought of how she stood up to the press during your mother’s trial and wouldn’t let anyone near you. How she’d protected you like you were her own. 

Aaron remembered when she had Jack, how she held herself together even when he was a mess. He thought of her smile and her eyes and her voice, even as it shook now. 

“You’ll hurry, right?”

Aaron took a sharp breath, hiding his cries. “I know you didn’t sign on for this.” A tear finally escaped down his face. 

“Neither did you,” she said, resolved. 

“I’m sorry for everything.” He hated himself for saying it, as though it could fix anything. As if it could stop what was going to happen. 

Haley breathed in deeply and let it out, wondering if it would be her last. 

“Promise me you will tell him how we met,” she said. “And how you used to make me laugh.”

The tears flowed freely down his face now, but still, he drove. “Haley…”

“He needs to know that you weren’t always so serious, Aaron.”

You thought of the pictures she showed you every year for their anniversary. Pirates of Penzance. He looked so happy. 

“I want him to believe in love because it is the most important thing.” Her voice shook with the strain of keeping together. “But you need to show him.” 

Aaron could hardly muster a whisper now. “I promise.” 

More silence. 

Then…

One

Haley walking down the aisle, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

Two

Her beaming face as you walked across the stage at your graduation. 

Three

Haley’s exhausted, but utterly happy smile as she held Jack in her arms, looking up at Aaron with joy and so much love. 

The line went dead. 

Aaron threw the phone onto the dashboard, hoping it would break. 

And she was gone. 

You ran outside, but only made it to the lawn before you fell to your knees and were sick through your sobs. 

Spencer followed as fast as he could, kneeling down to hold you up.

“She can’t be- maybe she’s- please, she can't be-” You gulped through your words, unable to get enough words to say them. 

“Y/N,” Spence started, but he had nothing he could say. 

You stood on trembling legs and started for your car. “We have to go.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“You don’t understand.” You whirled around, your red eyes wild and desperate. “He’s going to kill him.”

And you weren’t sure who you meant.

-

After

Spencer had barely stopped the car before you were hurtling out of it, sprinting toward the surrounded house. 

“Y/N!” He called after you, but you didn’t listen. 

They wheeled a stretcher out of Aaron’s former home, carrying a body bag too big to have been your sister-in-law. 

“No,” you gasped. You ran harder, your lungs burning and your heart pounding. “Aaron!” A few of the first responders turned to you, but nobody looked for long. You screamed again. “Aaron!”

Dave found you, putting himself between you and the door. 

“Get out of my way.”

“Believe me, kid,” he said softly. “You don’t want to go in there.” 

“Where’s my brother? I need to find my brother. Aaron!” 

“Aunt Y/N,” a small voice called out to you. Jack waved from JJ’s arms, his young eyes blank and confused. 

You felt sick all over again. 

“Dave, please, where is he?” 

That’s when you saw him. His shirt was covered in blood and his face was cut, already starting to bruise. But he was alive. 

“Aaron!” You ducked around Dave and sprinted into your brother’s waiting arms. 

He didn’t even make it out of the doorway. The second he locked you in his embrace, Aaron felt his legs give out. You basically had to hold him up, his body shaking hard with sobs. 

“I couldn’t get here in time,” he cried into your shoulder. 

You didn’t say anything. You just clung to him as you both cried. 

After what felt like hours, Aaron pulled away. He held something in his fist and stared at his hand with a dark expression. 

“Y/N…” He spoke without expression. “I found this.” 

Any breath you had left your body as he opened his hand. 

It was your locket.

-

The In-Betweens series: @amywright; shesoperfectt;  hereforsmutbcicantgetenough;  violetbossler;  hyper-half-blood;  i-bitch-you-bitch; xcastawayherosx; preciousbabypeter; @jori21; @sol-48;  @murdermornings ; @ staygoldsquatchling02; @ ara-a-bird; @ jjunebug; @ xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx; @ lillianacristina; @ noodleboyluke; @ yokaimoon

[just-some-random-blogger]

First I wanna say I absolutely adore your writing! <3

I was wondering if you could write a Daemon x Reader where the reader is a noble Northern lady who is like a shieldmaiden and they fight together at Stepstones. They kind of become friends and the reader constantly teases Daemon about how he has never seen anything about life in his Prince-ly upbringing and she knows more than him even though he is older (though it is the start of the battle of stepstones so he is canonically like 25 but still he is like 3-4 years older than her). But then while they are talking and drinking she accidentally blurts out that she is still a maiden and now it is time for Daemon to tease her. Then boom, smut happens.

Mine For The Night

"It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of drinking/drunkenness, smut (drunk sex, loss of virginity, piv, breeding kink, choking, scratching, biting?), sleazy!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: rah its been a while since a daemon req so lemme crack this egg

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa

The onlooking crowd cheers when I dodge the man who charged into me. The bumbling brute batters into a table of men who aren't fortunate enough to be as quick as I am. The collision is heavy and loud. The ruffian, who was dim enough to pick a fight with me, spills all the drinks on the table on impact. It inspires the sat men to stand and to hurtle him against the wall, where he then passes out.

Daemon watches this play out with the rest of the patrons in the tavern, arms crossed, chest buzzing in amusement.

"That'll teach ya to mind yer manners," a man from our company barks before sharing a laugh with the rest of the men.

My inebriety is washed off with my exhaustion. I wobble back to my table, glaring at the men there, "you lot could stand to help?"

Daemon chuckles, but someone else answers, "well, our lady proved the point beautifully."

I roll my eyes, "men are good for nothing," I grab my things and head out of the tavern.

"Oh, don't be like that, lady love!" one of the men call, "I'm sure one of us can show you how good it can be to have a man!"

They share a laugh with each other and I roll my eyes.

The moment, I'm outside, I burp and head back to our camp. I whip my head to the side when I realize someone came outside with me.

"The slurs of drunken cunts," Daemon grins, walking beside me with his hands behind his back.

I shake my head and keep walking, "you're a cunt yourself, since you sat and watched."

"There's something rather bewitching seeing you get covered in ale and blood," he mutters through a lopsided smile.

"Mmm, I pray you be bewitched all the way back to your tent and leave me be," I glare at him before walking faster.

He makes a tutting sound and grabs my arm, preventing me from moving any father. The prince shakes his head and brushes his hand down my shoulder, "my drunken fool has forgotten her promise to me."

I scowl at him, "who are you calling fool?" I shove him back. It doesn't work very effectively. Curses. I hiss, "I made no promise to you. Unhand me."

Daemon chuckles, both his hands now on my arms, "ah, you're right. Twas I that promised you this," he rubs his hands up to my temples and swipes his thumbs on my brows, "the head of our enemy's dimwitted commander for a night you'd not forget."

My breath catches in my throat when the silver haired man leans closer. He mutters, "or did you think my words on the battlefield were weightless, Northern girl?"

"I am not interested in your words, nor doing such lascivious things with you," I push him off by his chest.

Daemon lets me walk away, and he laughs as I do so. "I did not think your memory would be so poor after such cheap wine touched your lips."

I hear him follow after me.

"Shall I recite how you confessed your desires to bed a man before you died?"

"And I am alive, am I not?"

"You'll only truly, once you've had me throw your legs over my shoulders and-"

"WHATEVER I SPOKE TO YOU-" I snap, turning around and pointing a finger at him, "about my sinful desires-"

Daemon chuckles.

"-in moments of weakness, be it when I was drunk or desperate in the middle of a fight, do away with it, devil."

He laughs louder at that.

"I have no intention of sullying myself, all because you-"

"My," he drags out and yanks be by the arm, "my lady is acting suddenly so ladylike."

I narrow my eyes at him, "I have always been ladylike because I am a lady!" I wrangle out of my his grip.

I whine when he grips my shoulders tightly. My stomach drops at the way he whispers in his mother tongue against my ear. Though I do not know what he says, I renders me frozen in my spot.

The prince relishes in this. His hands find my cheeks again. He leans in close, so close I can smell what he had been drinking. "It's not something to fuss over, really," Daemon mutters, thumb on my lips, breath laced with wine, "and wouldn't it better I take your maidenhead than some old man you'll never desire?"

Whatever I flaring retort I had is put out by the moistness of his lips.

I had never been kissed before. The sensation makes my insides roll and it's surprisingly so pleasant to be kissed by such a man as Daemon.

He chuckles, "oh, apologies," he brushes my hair back, "wasn't your maidenhood already broken ages ago on the account of your horseback riding?"

My heart races when his one hand slips into my clothes, on to my bare chest. His other hand comes to my waist. He sighs contentedly when I do not repel him after pulling me close to kiss me once more. I actually kiss him back this time.

"No one's gonna know," he mutters, "just us and the gods."

We're a mess of heavy breathing when we reach my tent. Daemon wastes no time in ripping me out of my clothing. It doesn't take long for it to be just him and I in a sea of discarded fabrics.

My skin reaches out to him with goosebumps when his hot huffs hit my neck. My movements are intrinsic; I reach out to him just as he kneads my body. His hips nestle between my bare thighs. A whine escapes me when he begins to rub against me.

"Relax," he mutters, "it won't hurt. You'll enjoy it."

I sigh as he begins to trail kisses down my neck. I slowly feel myself melt into his touch. He continues meshing his hips into mine until a tingle builds in my belly and my toes curl in response. I feel a slickness build between my thighs. I claw my nails into his back and he hisses in response. My legs tighten around him. He groans, muttering something in his native tongue.

I gasp when he tugs me by my hair and speaks hotly against my ear, "you're making it hard for me to be gentle with you."

I claim his lips with my teeth, making him groan. I scratch my fingers up his nape and pull on his hair in a more gentle and needing manner, "I can take it."

Daemon lets out an amused garbled noise then claws my legs apart as he shifts above me. I throw my head back and squeal the moment shoves in my weeping cunny and he proceeds to thrust at a vigorous pace. He huffs through his nostrils as his thick, heavy member bullies into me. He pins me in place by clamping his hands at the back of my thigh and folding my legs like he meant to make me half my size.

"Oh," he lets out a prolonged sigh, "if they could see you now," he heaves, "powerless against me, reduced into a mewling little girl, taking it like a bitch in heat." He chuckles, lifting himself up to watch how he had me whining and rolling my eyes back.

He releases one thigh then pushes my jaw back; my voice and neck strain because of it. He goes wild over the sight and sound of my frantic breathing. He slightly squeezes my jaw, "no one's gonna know you lost your maidenhead to me."

I feel my lungs deflate when he puts more pressure on my airways.

"Mmm," he hums through the sound of slapping skin, "but everyone's gonna know I pumped my seed into you when your babe comes out looking like me."

I suck in a sharp breath when he releases my throat.

"Let's see how you fare once you're heavy with my child."

[moonflower91]

Where You Go, I Go

"He's afraid of me."

"Yes," Saerah hummed back, her fingers running softly through the ends of his long silver hair. "He's an old man now. Short of time, patience and temper. Like as not to lash out. Daemon has spent his life at war -- in the Stepstones, with his brother, even poor Rhea Royce to a degree. Now, likely the biggest war looms on the horizon, and he did not draw first blood."

“The folly of the young, as grandfather said. Smarter to wait than draw first blood.”

She fixed him with a sidelong look. “I shall say naught, for to insult Daemon for his recklessness, is to insult my love.” Aemond only rolled his eye, and settled further down her body to rest his head in her lap. 

"I do regret that business with Luke. I lost my temper that day."

"I know. You did not leave me intending to kill anyone, nor did anyone expect such a little fool to be the bearer of Rhaenyra’s business. You left me intending to make a marriage offer." She said it softly, stroking his hair, but he could hear the fire behind the icy tone in which  she spoke.

"That work is done now, Saerah."  He all but grumbled, turning his face into her lap.

"Yes, yes it is. Anyway, Daemon is full of bile and pride, but he is beholden to Rhaenyra. I can only imagine how burned he feels, to be reined in like a mad dog. Especially by her—not only his young wife, but the one whom Viserys chose over him.”

"You believe that whore would stop him from winning the war for her?"

Saerah thought for a moment. “To a point. She has ruined herself forever now with Jaehaerys’ slaughter. Mayhaps she takes pause now to act an innocent. But as her losses pile higher, I think it will make her desperate.”

“We fly with larger dragons and possess a larger army, with some of the best military minds in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aye. She and Daemon will die for Helaena and Aegon’s boy. Imagining how I might kill them has caused me  such dark thoughts of late. I’m frightened of them because I know I truly desire them.”

“Tell me.” He said, turning his head to look up at her.

She could not meet his eye, and stared out, watching the flames in the hearth. “I would burn all of her bastards alive, perhaps making her watch. And then, I'd keep her alive for a long while, to let her wallow in her agony, and have Daemon ripped apart by dogs. His limbs thrown into the filth of slums he once lorded over.”

Aemond scoffed. "You've thought about it quite extensively."

"What else can I do all day, trapped here in the Red Keep but think of ways to make them suffer?" Saerah did not enjoy the idea of murdering children, even if it was in vengeance. But that little child, sleeping in his bed, who loved stories and ponies and playing with his mother's long hair...to be butchered, to die in fear and pain…

Her fingers tangled in her brother's hair, heart speeding because it felt just. Almost. But she knew her pain and grief drove this feeling. It would not be justice, she knew. But how she longed for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s agony to sate the burning ache of her family’s suffering and grief .

"I was terribly lonely without you here, Aemond. If you leave me again, I shall follow you on Vexxa."

“And leave Helaena here? Alone with naught but her fears? With her broken heart?”

“Helaena has Mother beside her. And Jaehaera.”

“Whom she can hardly look at without running away in tears. Jahaera and the boy looked just alike.” Like we did , he thought. When they were very small, Alicent once told them, they’d looked so alike no one could tell them apart. Of course, that had changed as their personalities grew. 

“I am a selfish creature, then, for I will still follow.”

“I am selfish then, too, for I would let you.”

[rhaegonapologist]

rhaegon ch 1

Unfortunately for Alicent, Aegon loved his big sister.

An AU where Rhaenyra leaves shortly after the hunt to travel Westeros on Syrax. Her visits, now and then, are the brightest spots in Aegon's life.

Unfortunately for Alicent, Aegon loved his big sister.

She was scared to leave them alone together. Rhaenyra's eyes would thin into slits whenever they settled on Aegon, much like Syrax's right before she unhinged her jaw to rain fire. She didn't even try to hide her contempt. He was just a baby, yet it did not seem to matter. He was a boy, and that was enough.

The hunt was disastrous. Rhaenyra came back all bloodied, but before the king could scold her she rushed straight to Alicent and Aegon. Alicent did not want to hand him over to her, not with her tracks of dried blood and matted locks, iron stinking the air. Aegon would cry, she was sure of it. But her boy looked up with wide eyes and raised his little fists towards Rhaenyra.

"Let me hold him," she said urgently. "I need to see."

She held him awkwardly, and Alicent had to help her shift the boy onto her hip. Rhaenyra closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his hair, inhaled deeply. He smelled just like Baelon, she thought. She could cry.

Aegon giggled and played with her hair. Rhaenyra caught one pudgy little wrist and squeezed. She turned her back to shield Aegon from her father's view and cupped his cheek. Just the two of them. He was made just for her. She lowered her finger to the rabbit heart pulse on his neck and pressed her nail in.

The boy stopped and looked up at her but did not cry. She kept pressing harder, wondering if she could break skin. Alicent saw and felt her heart drop. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Not here. She lurched towards them but before she could push Rhaenyra's hand away, Aegon's laugh bubbled up. He turned his head downwards and kissed Rhaenyra's wrist.

She let go immediately, shocked.

He kicked his feet, playful, almost as if daring her to do it again.

Rhaenyra thrusted him back into his mother's arms. She had to leave. She had to get out of here. King Viserys called for her, ready to spout some sentimental drivel about family but she was out of earshot now. It didn't matter anymore.

Alicent gripped Aegon ever tighter to herself. Her thumb worried over the half-moon Rhaenyra left on her son's red, red neck. Her father caught her eye over Visery's shoulder and the nod he sent her seemed to seal her fate and everyone else's. She felt her stomach drop.

-

Rhaenyra had to leave. That day sealed it. There was no place for her in King's Landing. The offers her suitors brought her seemed more like compensation for her loss in title rather than anything real that could further her claim for the throne. A pathetic farce. She was heir, was this what she was reduced to?

"If I am to rule, I have to see the realm I rule over myself," she said to her father. It wasn't a request. Not when they were at the Dragonpit, with Syrax fully saddled and ready to be mounted.

King Viserys knew this day would come. He was heartbroken, but relieved, for this war between him and his daughter would soon come to an end. He couldn't handle the pressure from his councilors anymore, nor bear another venomous argument with her. At least this way it could be covered as diplomacy and she'd be out of his hair. At least this way there was a chance she'd still answer his letters.

"Go, my only daughter. Do what you must. I give you my blessing," he said. And for the first time since Aemma died, she ran to him with a hug. Of course he cried. They both did.

--

On the other side of the Red Keep, Alicent bounced Aegon on her knee. The boy was strangely sullen today. Rhaenyra had came by last night to say goodbye, had smiled like she used to when Alicent cried for her to stay, and reassured her that this was for the best. Rhaenyra had looked at her and harkened back to the days when they were girls and talked of adventure. Her words dripped with warmth and nostalgia, childhood promises fulfilled, but Alicent couldn't help notice that by moonlight her teeth almost looked sharp. She thought of that day with Aegon, and gods forgive her she hoped something tragic would befall Rhaenyra on her travels so she wouldn't have to think about any of this anymore.

Suddenly a figure blotted through the skyline.

Aegon started to wail.

ch 2

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Blood, gore, major character deaths.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my god.... Everything is happening ARGH! I'm actually going to try and post updates daily now for this, bar Sunday for the next Sublet chapter. I am just so excited to finish this series! Hahaha, anyway, I've loved seeing all your reactions and theories!! <3

Chapter 102: Envoys to Dragonstone 

When you had returned to your chambers, it was a blur of movements and thoughts, but one in particular seemed to absorb all the rest. Its dark tendrils wrapped around the others, pulling them into the dark with it, thus making its size almost immeasurable until all other thoughts were devoured by it, gone from the light, and all that was left was it. 

War was coming.

With shaky hands you grasped a piece of parchment and sat at the table. With the ink pot and quill, you rolled the parchment flat beneath your palm and began to write. 

You wrote as though your life depended on it. 

Because it did. 

And with each swift flick of your script, a blaring word in particular seemed to have broken loose from the feeling of hopelessness. A word which had been whispered and cried. Spoken and sneered. A word that had fuelled your hope, and created your despair. A word that you knew, now more than ever, was a need to act. 

Dracarys. 

And so you wrote until the page was full, and tears leaked from your eyes at knowing what was to come next. 

Loss. 

‘Mother and Father, 

To write to you under the present circumstances does little to steady my beating heart, but it is something that I know will ensure that it keeps doing just that. Beating. 

Aegon is dead. Slain at the hands of Aemond. 

And now he is King. And I, Queen.

The treaty is lost, and at the risk of another war coming to take us all, I must beg you, bend the knee.

Bend the knee to Aemond. 

If you swear him as King, he has said that he will allow you to live on Dragonstone and carry out your days there safely and happily. 

If you do not bend the knee, war will break, and I will not survive it.

You will not survive it. 

None of us will. 

My only consolation is that if you do, we shall all live, and that I will be able to see you again soon.

I suspect I am with child, Aemond’s child. And if the promise of your own flesh and blood upon the throne does not satiate your need to rule, then know I hold no grievances towards you. It is your birthright, just as it is mine.

If you do not bend the knee, you must send star fruit to the Keep so that I know of your decision, and may feel its sweet nectar upon my tongue once more before war breaks out. It is the only way I will survive this all, and it is the only way that I will know that you do not hate me for asking you of this. 

It was not my wish to depose my mother of the throne, nor my father, or my dearest brother Jacaerys. I beg for your forgiveness. I shall go to the Godswood and pray that you will forgive such an offence, and pray that the Gods will forgive my sins too.

Until then, I wait to hear of your acquiesce to Aemond and I's rule, or the delivery of star fruit to the keep in barrels full. 

Yours forever,

Queen Y/n.’

Tears slipped past your eyes, and you had not even heard Aemond enter the chambers, nor sense him standing behind you as he read your letter. It was only until he touched a lock of your hair at the back of your head did you know that he was there. 

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, cool patience in his tone.

You turned your head to look up at him.

Were you ready?

Would you ever be ready for what was to come?

If your parents bent the knee, that meant you would rule as Queen, like you had always wanted, and at the side of Aemond. 

But if they didn’t?

No.

They would come. 

Just as you asked.

More tears fell, and Aemond swiped them away gently with his thumb, “Issa iā qopsa geralbar bona ilagon gō īlva.  Yn nyke gīmigon bona hēnkirī, hae mēre, kosti.” It is a difficult road that lays before us. But I know that together, as one, we can.

“Iksan nāpāsagon ñuha lentor.” I am betraying my family, You sniffed, another tear trailing down your cheek hotly.

Aemond frowned sadly at you, helping you to stand.

“Iksis ziry drēje?” Is it true? He asked quietly, “Issi ao lēda riña?” Are you with child?

You knew in your bones that you were.

Although there were not many symptoms but the inklings of sore breasts, you just knew. You knew instinctually that it was true. That the Gods had given you and Aemond another chance of being parents, and you would not lose that opportunity again.

You nodded, another tear rolling down your cheek, one of sorrow and joy.

Aemond bent his head down to kiss you gently, lips brushing against your own in reverence, but his hands upon your face showed the true excitement that he held back. They were firm, and tight, and almost tingled against your skin. 

“I am scared.” You breathed.

“I will keep you and my child safe.” Aemond looked you in the eye, sincerity on his face, a hand coming to press gently at your stomach.

You smiled sadly at him, “Not if war breaks.”

“Even then. I will not lose you, or our child. You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my one and only love. Not even the Gods could take you from me.” He promised.

Your heart soared as you nodded up at him, rising on your tiptoes to capture his lips once more. He whispered an apology against your lips, and you couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

“Please do not make me choose.” You whispered, hands holding the sides of his face, stubble brushing against the scar of your palm, the reminder of your union and love always there.

“You have already made your choice. Now they must make theirs.”

Aemond left you in the chambers alone to deliver your letter to Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole, who readied themselves to leave by ship that very evening. They would arrive to Dragonstone by morning. 

And you would get your answer from the skies.

DRAGONSTONE POV

The morning broke the same way that it had before.

The sun rose above the waters surrounding Dragonstone, and cast the volcanic island in a glow of golden light. There was a light breeze that morning as the maids had opened the windows and balcony doors to Queen Rhaenyra and King Daemon’s quarters. 

They had been dressed and readied, and broke their fast together. Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger tottered around their chambers, playing with tiny toy dragons that had been carved from wood. 

The couple eventually made their way down to the study, Rhaenyra having gotten word from the men at the Red Fork that a certain war dragon had been spotted in the skies, and not seen to have left until almost a dozen days later.

As Rhaenyra shifted the letters at the large desk and Daemon sat lazily before the fir with one leg crossed over the other as Little Viserys sat on his knee, stories being whispered into the young boys ear as Aegon the younger sat on the floor playing with his toys, the door to the chambers were rapt by knuckles thrice in quick succession. 

“Come.” Rhaenyra beckoned, and watched as the doors were opened swiftly by a Ser Erryk Cargyll.

The twin gave a short nod in greeting before apologising for his intrusion, “Your, Grace, there is a ship, just west of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra stiffened in her chair, and Daemon snapped his head to the man, quietening his whispers.

“It flies the banner of your brother.”

Rhaenyra stood from her seat slowly, Daemon going her with his son in his arms, the boy nestled against his side.

There had not been a ship to Dragonstone since the day Otto had come to watch her daughter be wed to her half-brother.

“Notify the council, have them be ready.” Rhaenyra commanded, and Ser Erryk bowed his head, leaving the chambers at once. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon stared at each other, Viserys fussing in Daemon’s arms, sensing the tension that mounted in the room like a storm.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Daemon breathed heavily, smoothing hair away from his sons head as two of Rhaenyra’s maids entered the chambers.

Daemon kissed the top of the boys forehead before handing him to one of the girls, the other scooping Aegon the Younger into her arms before exiting the chambers. 

Rhaenyra moved around the desk, coming to stand in front of Daemon, “I believe we should be ready for it.”

By the time the two entered the Chambers of the Painted Table, the Small Council of Queen Rhaenyra were already standing around it in wait. Jacaerys stood off to the side, his Lady Wife, Baela beside him. 

Lord Corlys stood to the side of Baela with Princess Rhaenys and their other granddaughter Rhaena, all who wore black and red, with hints of blue, as was their new and old House colours. 

All other Lords and Maester’s stood at the other end. 

“When should they arrive to shore?” Rhaenyra asked, forgoing a greeting as she walked swiftly to the head of the table with her husband.

“Within the hour, Your Grace.” Came the response of Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra nodded, looking amongst the table before she jumped into action. 

“We need to be ready for whatever my brother Aegon has planned. Patrol the skies and the sea. Have men at the ready for anything.”

Jacaerys stepped forward, “I shall ride Vermax.”

Rhaenyra nodded, though her heart raced in her chest.

The last time she had allowed her children to take to the skies, only one came back.

“I’ll take Moondancer, Your Grace.” Princess Baela declared.

Rhaenyra gave the girl a small smile, “Good.” She turned to face Rhaenys, “Take Meleys to the sky. If Aegon or Aemond are to come on the backs of their dragons, we will need numbers and you are one of our best.”

Daemon was the next to speak, “I shall take Caraxes-”

“-No.” Rhaenyra argued, “You will stay with me. I need you at my side.” Turning to Lord Corlys, she requested the presence of his ships, “Have four of your ships ready at port.”

The older man nodded, moving swiftly out of the chambers to command them.

“You said there was only one ship?” Rhaenyra questioned the Maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. Only one has been spotted.”

The crown weighed heavily atop the Queens head in that moment, the first time she had ever truly felt the weight of it.

At first when Daemon had crowned her, it was foreign, but with time, she grew to not notice its presence, as though it was another set of braids atop her head. But now, she felt the heavy weight of it all, pressing down on her skull, hyperaware that she had a duty, and it was about to be tested.

Once the ships had been pulled to the docks, and her dragon riders had taken to the skies, Queen Rhaenyra and her King Consort, Daemon Targaryen, moved with the Queens Guard down to the meeting point of the path where they had stood before. 

When greeted with Aegon’s terms. 

And then later with the return of their daughter.

But this time, they waited and watched as the heads and banners of the Green three headed dragon came towards them, and they did not once sense that they would be reunited with their daughter once more. Instead, Ser Otto Hightower was flanked by Ser Criston Cole and members of her brothers Kings Guard.

Above them, three dragons flew in circles, watching from above. 

Waiting. 

Ready.

Ser Otto Hightower, in all his lithe glory, came to a stop before Queen Rhaenyra, looking all the more like a weevil that had crawled into a farmers grain.

For he was a pest that had wormed its way into her fathers life, and become the driving force of the usurpation of the throne, her daughter and sons deaths, and the removal of her surviving daughter to her half-brother.

Ser Otto was a man that Rhaenyra as a child had hoped and prayed that her father would have seen through. That Viserys could have seen the man before him was a mask, a shell, and hid his true intentions behind duty and tradition. But Viserys had been blinded by the wolf in sheep's clothing, and Otto’s lies had been strengthened by Daemon’s love for her.

Viserys never did get to see the ruin that his inaction would become.

Daemon, the once Rogue Prince, stood at his wife’s side diligently, as he had promised to do, large palms resting upon the two swords that flanked him, one being the Dark Sister blade. He struggled to not sneer at the man who had taken everything from him.

Taken his daughter from him. His brother.

“We come as envoys.” Otto began, Ser Cole staring at Daemon, his own hand atop the hilt of his sword.

Daemon had not forgotten Cole's place in all this either.

Crispin Cole.

Rhaenyra looked down at the men from her nose. Despite being shorter than them, she stood uphill, and gave the illusion that she was above them.

And she was.

Where she was Queen, they were mere Ser’s.

“King Aemond the First-“

“-Aemond?” Rhaenyra interrupted sharply, worry coursing through her chest, “Did my brother Aegon drink himself to death in his cups?”

Otto reached into his coat pocket, the Queen’s Guard shifting as they watched his movement carefully. Long fingers pulled apart his lapel and dove into the inner pocket, grasping the rolled parchment from their daughter.

Daemon shifted atop the balls of his feet.

Lord Hightower held out the scrolled parchment, green insignia stamped into its papery surface with wax, “A letter from the Queen.” 

“Queen?” Daemon snipped, looking at the parchment. 

Ser Erryk stepped forward to grasp the letter, armour shuffling as his eyes darted to his twin, Arryk Cargyll, who stood behind Otto Hightower.

It was a sad day for either twin, seeing their other half on different sides of a silent war. Their eyes met, if only briefly, all hurt and betrayal, before Erryk took the scroll and delivered it to Rhaenyra.

“King Aegon is dead. And in the line of succession, Aemond has taken his place.”

“What about his remaining son?” Daemon questioned, looking at the scroll briefly before back at Otto.

Otto held his hands behind his back, “Maelor is too young to rule at such a time, and Aemond has taken the Iron Throne.”

Ser Erryk held out the parchment for his Queen to take, which she took whilst keeping her eyes upon Otto, much like her husband, who continued to talk. 

“Bend the knee to the King, swear your fealty to him and he shall allow you to remain here as the Lady of Dragonstone, whereafter your son Jacaerys the Lord of Dragonstone, and Joffrey Lord of Driftmark. The Queen has agreed to send word to you now that the treaty has ended with Aegon’s passing.”

Rhaenyra hastily unrolled the parchment, ripping the green wax insignia of the three headed dragon off the paper, the wax crumbling onto the stone below. Violet eyes roved over her daughters script whilst Daemon read over the top of her shoulder. 

The Queen felt a tide of rage.

“I will not bend the knee to a usurper and kinslayer who is not even second in the line of succession. He has no right to the throne.” She hissed at the Hightower Lord, “Where is the Princess?”

“She is Queen Consort now, and shall live her days with the King in peace and safety. Your blood sits upon the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, something that should satiate your desire for war. Bend the knee to Aemond, blood not be needlessly spilt again.”

Otto spoke like an old man telling his daughter or wife to buy something from the market that was not needed, and not at all like a man who was preventing a war.

Daemon quietly seethed beside his wife, looking at Otto, and having read two words that gave him the permission he so desperately sought. Daemon shifted, hand pulling the Dark Sister blade from her sheath and stormed forward.

“Fuck this.” Daemon sneered.

Ser Cole stepped toward him, and from above a dragon screeched.

It was a blur of guards, and the sound of men and their blades being unsheathed filling the air.

Ser Erryk Cargyll stepped to the side of Daemon, if not slightly more forward, blocking the blow of Ser Cole’s blade as Daemon moved towards Otto, whose eyes were wide in shock. Queen and King’s Guards met in the middle, a blur of bodies as Rhaenyra stood firmly, planted as she were.

Watching. 

With a swing of the Dark Sister blade, Daemon sliced through Ser Otto Hightower’s shoulder, the blade cutting through flesh and bone as though it was butter, carving down to the middle of his chest.

Blood sprayed from his wound, and the older man cried out into the air, the beating wings of dragons loud above them.

As the King Consort pulled his blade from the Hightower Lord, who stumbled backwards on shaky legs, Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade into the air once more, connecting with his neck.

His body landed on the floor before his head did, which rolled downwards into the chaos of the guards and knights who fought, mouth open and eyes wide.

Ser Erryk blocked another swipe of Criston’s blade, who came at him harder and faster, anger and desperation in his eyes. Ser Arryk, his twin, steadily approached the two as he battled through the sea of fighting.

A few of Aemond’s men had turned back, running down the path to try to get back to their ship, to send word to the King, but a large shadow loomed above them, and with a cry, Baela screamed out her deathly command for the very first time.

“Dracarys!”

Moondancer, a slender and pale green dragon with pearl like horns, opened her jaws and a plume of fire was cast over the Green deserters. The flames devoured the men entirely, who screamed in agony, trying to outrun their burning flesh, before dropping to the floor below, silent and stiff.

Baela, to prevent any more attempting to escape, landed against the path, the large claws of her dragon digging into the stone sides, much like how Rhaenyra had, many moons ago.

Moondancer screeched, head down and long at the backs of Aemond’s men who turned to face the dragon in fear, swords lifted in a pathetic last chance of defence. 

It was an opportunity that Rhaenyra’s men did not let pass. 

And an opportunity Daemon didn’t either. 

The Dark Sister blade cut through three men, and Jacaerys upon Vermax landed behind the Queen and her men, a subtle threat, and a vow of protection for his Queen Mother.

Vermax growled deeply, teeth bared, whilst Rhaenys continued to circle atop Meleys from above, searching the skies for any sign of her cousins.

Ser Cole, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle, did not give up, and came at Ser Erryk brutally. The twin stumbled backwards, Arryk moving towards Cole’s side as Criston's blade barely just missed the twins face.

But as Ser Cole was occupied, and Rhaenyra watched from behind stony faced, he did not see the shadow that passed behind him, nor did he anticipate the thrusting of the Dark Sister blade through the pummel of his chest.

Ser Erryk Cargyll took advantage of the opportunity, and turned to face his twin brother, a man who was the exact image of him bar small scars upon their bodies, and if you had asked Arryk a year before, he was taller. Their swords clashed together, moves and skill mirrored as both men had grown and trained together side by side.

Daemon Targaryen, the once Rogue Prince and now Rogue King, a man who was seasoned in war, and battle, and swordsmanship, stood behind Ser Criston Cole, blade in hand as it penetrated through the top of his chest under his shoulder. Blood dripped from its tip thickly as he looked down at it, eyes wide in shock. 

Daemon’s silver hair, now streaked in blood, lifted gently in the breeze that rolled past.

The drops of Ser Cole’s blood was loud in Rhaenyra’s ears as she looked at the man dubbed ‘The King Maker’.

With a large boot, Daemon kicked the knight off of his blade, and onto his knees.

Ser Criston Cole landed with a thud, looking up at Rhaenyra, eyes darkened by hatred. The blade in his hand had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped down from his wound thickly, splattering across the stones like many of his other men. 

Rhaenyra looked down her nose at the man, lips pulled back in a sneer.

It was quiet on the path, the only sound Rhaenys’ dragon calling out from above, and the sound of blood on stone. All other fighting was drowned out by the rage that pumped through her veins.

And as though connected through a bond, like rider and dragon, Daemon stood behind Ser Criston Cole, The King Maker; a man who had been sworn to Rhaenyra once before, a man she had once been intimate with when she was a young girl, a man who had witnessed the Gods affirmation that she was fit for the throne, a man who had aided the usurpation of the throne, a man who had broken his oath to the cloak, and Daemon heeded the Queen’s wordless command.

Daemon swung the Dark Sister blade one final time.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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