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suntoru · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?!

✧˚ · . alt title: getting jealous of a little kid trying to steal ur man!!

cw: gn! reader, pure fluff, crackfic, maybe swearing, not proofread, idk what else please cut me some slack for wriothesley and nuevillettes part i haven’t gotten that far in genshin

─ ✰ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 notices your little pout and glares to the small child. the little girl’s clutching onto his hand tight, sending him adoring gazes as she nuzzles into him softly, smirking deviously at you when she thinks your boyfriend isn’t paying attention. he’s a little confused at first, but manages to connect the dots. ah. so that’s what it is. his lips curve into a small smile as he notices your jealousy, thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. he places the now scowling child into adeline’s care for a bit, before making his way to you with a sheepish smile.

“dearest… are you in need of some attention? my apologies, it seems i have neglected you for a bit too long. how about a walk together… just you and i?”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 is a girl dad, you can’t convince me otherwise. the little girl is giggling in his arms, squishing his cheeks as they play princesses and knights. for some reason, the girl is set out for you, side eyeing you every time you try to get close to kaeya. so with a sigh, you sit and watch them play with a small huff. after a while, kaeya hands the five year old some mora, telling her to go buy a snack from a nearby cart and that they’ll play again later. she excitedly runs off as he saunters over to you with his signature smirk. he scoops you up into his arms, holding you flush against his chest. “you’ve got some real competition, hm?” he lets out a charming laugh as he teases you lightheartedly.

“don’t worry my love, you still own my heart… for now.”

─ ✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 loves playing with little kids. they remind him of teucer and his other younger siblings, forgetting about his harbinger duties for a moment as he plays hide and seek with the little girl. she shyly hands him a flower she picked herself, blushing slightly. he feels his heart melt, feeling a sense of protectiveness was over him as she clutches his leg tight. he’s unaware of your pout until the child reluctantly has to go back home for supper, his concentration snapping back to you. he grins at your frowny expression, tugging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

“aww, y/n, are ya jealous? ahaha, so you are! …stop pouting, i’ll make sure to give you some extra attention tonight~”

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 does not like the little kid either. sorry, what were you expecting? he doesn’t like any kids at all, unless it’s your kid. reluctantly, he entertains the child for a bit, attempting to hide his annoyed expression as the little girl tugs at his hat, giggling loudly. he also finds himself glaring coldly at the five year old every time she sticks her tongue out at you, climbing into his lap as she refuses to look at you. at this point, he just wants to go back to you, but the little girl cries every time he attempts to stand up. he almost smiles when the child’s mother finally finds the little girl, speed walking over to you as he allows you to cling onto him softly, frown instantly melting away.

“hmph. what an annoying brat. …our kid would be much cuter.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 smiles at the small child as she draws a picture of her and kazuha holding hands. he allows her to play with her hair, acting as a father figure to this sweet little girl. it’s almost like a perfect family… except this demon child hates you. she steals all of kazuha’s attention, and whenever you try to initiate affection, she drags him away possessively. …you never thought you’d have a five year old compete with you over your boyfriend. if not for kazuha’s patience, you might have lost it. he pulls you into a corner with a knowing smile, peppering your face with kisses as he chuckles softly.

“dove, there’s no reason to pout… you’ll always be my muse, alright? so stop frowning… a smile suits you much better.”

─ ✰ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 frowns slightly seeing the girl cling onto his arm. …where are her parents? should he leave? …no, that would possibly put the child in danger… but at the same time, it’s taking away his time with you. he allows the little girl to stay, observing curiously as the little girl blushes ever so slightly while playing with his hair. …strange. this small creature acts so much like you, yet seems to hate your guts… he turns to you, surprised to see you grouchy. standing up, ignoring the girl’s protests, he tilts your head up with his hand, gorgeous amber eyes boring into yours.

“…have i done something to make you upset? tell me, so i can fix it.”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 knows. this little bitch knows what he’s doing… it’s been a peaceful few weeks, why not stir it up a little? he holds her teensy tiny hand in his, feeding her delulu in further, and spends what was supposed to be your date with him into a play date with the little gremlin. it’s seven when the girl falls asleep, finally paying attention to you. he smiles mischievously at your grouchy pout, pulling you in closer as a soft melody starts playing, spilling you around as you waltz around the room.

“…ah? so you knew i was teasing you? …i have to make it up to you now? very well. how about a nice massage and some cuddles tonight?”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 stares at the child. …why is it so attached to him? kaveh and you were right there, with open arms, beaming at the little girl… and now sobbing as the child ignores you… not knowing what to do, he continues reading his book… but it’s not long before she tugs his sleeve, asking for him to read her a book. he obliges, reading to her in the most monotonous voice, it would be more surprising if the little five year old didn’t fall asleep. looking up, he sees you scowling at the little girl, and he feels his heart warm the slightest bit.

“…what i read her? the extensive analysis of the color brown: the non-illustrated edition. simply fascinating.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 cooes as the little girl bats her eyelashes, beaming so innocently, his entire heart melts. this little girl is his now, sorry parents!! you snooze, you lose. when you whisper to him how you think she hates you, he audibly gasps. this sweet little angel? no way!! he shows her all around his office, the secret projects he hasn’t even shown you yet!! they have a field day with that. when the sun sets, he reluctantly gives her back to her very grateful parents. his eyes sparkle at your pout, squeezing you tightly.

“oh, you wish to know what the classified architecture is too? …it’s… our future home. for me and you.”

─ ✰ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 visibly softens at the little girl tugging his shirt. unbeknownst to most who believe he is as stoic as he is in the court, he seems to be very soft and gentle. he allows her to clumsily braid his silky strands, keeping the hairstyle on for the day, ignoring the confused stares he gets from fellow passerby. however, when you try to give him a peck, she pushes you with a glare, clinging onto his sleeve! your mouth visibly drops, and you don’t know whether to laugh or be mad. neuvillette is equally as shocked, scolding her lightly.

“beloved, are you all right? …no? shall i kiss it better?”

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 expected the five year old to go running into your arms, screaming and crying. after all, he certainly looks like a scary man, having quite a tall stature, covered in scars as well. but no, she innocently beams at him cutely asking to play tea party. so that’s the sight you walked into, a small child, wriothesley, and a handful of barbies surrounding the round table, all having teacups. the girl glares at you, telling you you can’t join, as your smile drops. this little roach… who does she think she is? before you can say anything, he pulls you to the side, whispering quietly.

“babe, we’ll have our own tea party date later… yes, yes, i promise.”

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

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thebirdandthebee · 2 months ago

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Morning Snack | Aemond Targaryen

This is my first time writing in the House of the Dragon universe, so please be kind! Don't expect perfect historical accuracy - but I just love this character so much.

featuring | Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Reader

length | 1k words (a shorty!)

synopsis | You're worried about your shape, and your husband's lack of worry about his.

warnings | 18+ MDNI! Fluff + implied smut

One thing that drove you mad about your husband was just how often he could eat. That is, eat and maintain his lithe figure. Sure, he was in the training yard every day, keeping his shape inadvertently, as it was clear he never once had to think about the harsh pull of a corset, but you were certain he could eat more in one day than some homes ate in a week.

It wasn’t uncommon to see the Prince walking the halls of the Red Keep with an apple in his hand, or reaching for a sweet in his pocket.

Aside from snacks, he would quietly and cleanly go through two, three, sometimes four plates of food at supper - the cook prepping and preparing extra venison just for the second son.

When the two of you would take dinner in your bedchambers, there was often a small, second table brought in to hold plates as they normally would not fit on your given space.

Only once and a while, as you ran into your husband throughout the grounds, would you catch just a crumb or two on his black doublet - a sure sign he’d been ordering shortbread to his meeting room during the day.

Besides the fact that you hadn’t seen his measurements change in the 16 months you’d been betrothed and married, there were no obvious signs of his intake.

Today, as your ladies in waiting braced a foot up on the bedpost to pull your laces tighter and tighter, the sight of Aemond’s keen eye scanning a selection of cheeses from your tea table nearly sent you into a frenzy.

“Thank you,” you grimaced before dismissing your ladies maids for the morning - now that you’d been picked, prodded and parsed away into a cascade of deep emerald velvet.

“Thought I’d join you for tea, my love,” Aemond said quietly, just barely breaking eye contact with the spread of fruit, cured meat and treats alongside the soft cheeses on the hutch near your common area.

“Oh really? Because you missed my company?” You supplied, striding across the room, sure you could feel your ribs straining beneath the whelped whale bone stitched into your garments.

“I always enjoy your company, sweet wife,” Aemond assured, raising his look to meet yours, but hand still hovering over a particularly ripe looking apricot.

“Are you sure you aren’t just here for the tea? I can excuse myself so you can be alone with your meal,” you tossed him a look that he nearly missed because he was sure he saw his favorite jam preserves tucked into the display that he hadn’t seen available for a few weeks.

“Mm?” He asked, turning his head to look up at you one more time.

“You make me mad, do you know that?” You asked, coming to stand in front of him with a small furrow between your brows.

“Mad?” Aemond asked, tossing a small berry into his mouth.

“You are here for the food!” You all but snarled, causing his brow to lift just slightly in surprise.

“Is something the matter?” He asked, turning his shoulders squarely to face you.

“You get to eat and eat and eat all day long,” you huffed, turning and crossing the room once again to pour a glass of incensed water into your empty cup. “How can you eat so much and yet your body never changes? Not even a bit?” You asked.

Aemond was at a loss for words. He was certain he didn’t eat that much.

“If I have one more sweet than veg at dinner, I can feel on my thighs for the next six weeks!” You knew you were bordering on hysteria at this point. “I watched you eat six tarts last night.” You pointed an accusatory finger at your husband. “Six!”

“They were very good tarts, plums are finally back in season,” Aemond countered, not sure why his little wife was throwing a fit over his tea.

You crossed the rooms again, cradling his sharp jaw in your hands, arms accounting for the height difference between you two.

“I am deeply in love with you, and I deeply resent how you can maintain your figure and eat until your heart’s content,” you said sternly. Aemond noted the slight sweetness of honeysuckle on your breath. “I am… envious,” you admitted softly.

“I assure you,” Aemond began, “your body leaves me wanting for nothing,” he informed. “I’m quite attached to all parts of it and hope none of them disappear,” he said, unruffled by your outburst.

“Well they will,” you huffed, dropping your arms and placing your hands on your waist. “I need to shed these hips and thighs, so I’m telling cook no more sweets at dinner or tea,” you said pointedly, turning away from your husband and crossing the room again to grab your cloak.

“No sweets?” Aemond’s face reflected an expression of disgust. “That simply won’t work for me,” he replied.

“No sweets,” you reiterated. Aemond set down the halved peach he’d absentmindedly picked up as you were speaking and strode across the room, placing his hands on your waist over your clock.

“My love, I need my sweets the same way I need you,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to puff out a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh really? You can’t live without them?” You asked, spinning in his hold.

Aemond took a deep breath, drawing his arms tightening around you as he spoke with clear authority.

“Your hips and thighs happen to be my favorite bits,” he began, “and if you take them from me the same way you plan to take my sweets, I will take it as a personal affront.”

“Aemond, the other ladies of court - ”

“Frankly, I don’t care about the other ladies of court and neither should you,” he interrupted. “You are a Princess and if anything, they should strive to be more like their rulers.” He held a finger to your lips. “Now that I’ve finished my snack, let me move on to my next favorite thing to eat."

Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading any more Aemond content :)

#aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond Targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fan fic #house of the dragon fluff #ewan mitchell

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clawsdevour · 4 months ago

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dinner or a bath first?

wc: 2.4k content warning: smut, kitchen sex, established relationship, creampie, fingering, swallowing cum, my booty writing, multi-fandom x reader, one shot, not proofread

ల۫ ۪𓆪

You looked at the clock. It’s currently 9:26 PM. Your husband ran a bit late due to being held overtime for a big company project this past month. He’s been working so behind lately you can’t help but sigh whenever you slide into your warm linen sheets, knowing you won’t see him until you watch him leave for work. You get up from bed, slip into your fuzzy slippers, and head into the kitchen to cook some late-night dinner. Turning on the lamp that lights almost the whole room, you decide to unwind your pent-up sexual desires with a glass of your favorite wine. You have this lurking feeling that he’s gonna come home earlier than usual and decide to make a larger portion of dinner that night.

As usual, heat up the pan with some oil and sizzle away the raw seasoned steak. While it hissed, you cut up some veggies to cook alongside the main dish of the night. That was until you paused. The crackling of the pan and steak continued as the steam rising up polluted the air. You heard the front door squeak open and the big heavy dress shoes clacking against the marble entrance. Your husband had returned home from work at a much earlier time than usual. His face lit up at the sight of you cooking at such a late time for supper, usually you were in bed exhausted.

“Darling, I’m home” he says softly with a smile, slowly approaching you with his blazer in hand. His hair slightly messed up from working, his lingering cologne that was faded almost completely off, roughed up tie and collar, and expensive shoes clunking as he steps further.

“I miss you.. how was work today baby?” You question sheepishly, as your eyes linger at his current state. A tall lean, muscular man in a nice suit and tie just coming home from work. The sight was something to behold since you haven’t seen him come home in so long. You couldn’t help but think to yourself, He’s so attractive even in this state. Usually you’re laying in bed waiting for him to come home but end up falling asleep before he’s laying next to you. His eye bags were quite dark from the lack of sleep and you worried if he’s eaten yet.

“It was good, we’re starting to come to a close and end this long project. How long has it been since I started this project again.. was it, two? No, almost three weeks. I’m sorry sweetheart, it’s been a long month,” he furrows his brows and takes off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose in frustration to put them back on again. He laid his blazer on the edge of the kitchen counter and sat on the island stool, watching you flip over the steak to its oiled aromatic side.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault this project has been long and rough. Hopefully you end off this company project with a bang.. Have you eaten, or would you prefer a bath first?” Looking up at him his eyes were widened a bit. Assuming that he wanted that delicious steak for dinner first, you continue to return to chopping up the rest of the vegetables. That was until you felt his large beefy arms wrap around your waist and the warmth of his face in the crook of your neck.

“Darling, I don’t want any of those right now” was what was whispered in your ear. His sleepy voice altered your senses when you felt something press against you.

It wasn’t just his muscular body, but his bulging cock against his slacks which were pressing against your ass. You were trapped around his big strong arms. You couldn’t help but gasp when he started to lay a kiss down your neck.

“I miss you so much darling, it’s been so long since I saw you at home cooking dinner like a regular person,” you can’t help but drop the knife you used to slice your vegetables with. Turning around, you put your arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the lips. Looking him in the eye, his eyelids seemed heavy nevertheless he was filled with desire and lust that screamed out that he wanted you right here and right now.

He kissed you back and put his arms behind you, onto the counter. He also switches the stove off with his left hand or else your supper would be ruined. Behind you, he moves the cutting board to the side so he’s able to push you up onto the counter to match his height. With his strong hands, he helps you up the counter and you pull him in to continue making out.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?” Pulling away to breathe you said in between pants. Smiling at him because of how long it’s gotten since you were still crushing on him back then. You can’t help but let out a small giggle as you start spread your legs open for him to come closer. The heat exuding from your legs, being rubbed by his built up boner you can’t help but moan as you closed him in. The fabric between your thin silk dress, panties and his pants, you were able to feel every touch and grind.

“I’ll make up for that missing time with you right now darling,” he tells you with a slight smirk on his face and irregular breathing pace. You watch as he roughs up his hair even more by putting his hand through it. He loosens his crooked tie by toying with it from left and right. As well as unlooping up a few buttons that felt tight onhis chest. You can’t help but gulp as you watch patiently for the moment you’ve been waiting for, but first you decided that he needed a treat. You hop off the kitchen counter and kneel down. He wasn’t expecting this when you unzipped his pants making eye contact with him with a cunning smile.

“You deserve this after a long rough day,” taking his large caged cock out of his boxers. His big dick recoils out of place and just slightly hits his abdomen, he’d been craving you for who knows how long that there’s already precum on his tip. He watches you as you start to suck on his tip, keeping eye contact with him. Watching his reactions made you so horny and wet. His whimpers were music to your ears, the sounds your mouth made when you went deeper onto his cock were beyond lewd. He started to push your head down slowly until you felt his cock kissed the back of your throat making you tear up a bit. Still, you kept on sucking and bobbing your head on his deliciously girthy cock.

When his cock started to twitch, your pace grew faster knowing he’s gonna cum. His moans roared louder and his grip in your lucious locks grew tighter. You can’t help yourself but feel absolutely soaked down there hearing your husband’s seductive moans and whimpers echo throughout the house like on replay.

“A-Ah, I..I’m c-cumming!” He tries to push your head off so you wouldn’t have to swallow his cum. To his surprise though, you had your fingers clutched tightly onto his hips to stabilize yourself. You wanted his every drop in you, until he sucked bone dry. When he came into your mouth you couldn’t help but swallow it all. When you released your grip and slid your mouth off his cock, he looked nothing but horrified.

“Sweetheart.. Did you just… swallowed all of my cum??” He questions you shockingly, knowing you usually don’t like the taste of cum or swallowing it as a matter of fact. You wiped your mouth and opened to show him that every drop of his seed that was released was vacuumed down your throat. Before rising from the floor, you slide down your panties and kick them off to the side. Talk about dinner, you were his dinner for tonight.

“Slide it in babe, it’s wet and ready for you..” you were more than ready to take his big cock as you stand, leaning against the counter. You spread your dripping cunt for all of him to see. You knew that it’s gonna sting a bit to adjust to his size, but you didn’t care. Again, he carried you up upon the cold kitchen counter and parted your legs open like the Red Sea. Peppering you with kisses, he slips a finger in and starts off at a slow bearable pace. When his lips reach towards your collarbone, he looks at your expressions and adds another finger in with a slight snicker due to how adorable you look right now. Finding your sweet spot, he starts teasing and going at it. Curling his fingers in and out, making you hold onto his broad shoulder, letting out your sweet moans he missed hearing.

“Loosen up for me if you think you can handle my cock. It’s gotten much harder thinking about you for days on end. You know.. jerking off to the thought of you alone doesn’t help very much..” he mutters along your skin leaving his warm embrace through his breath. You help him take off your short silk dress, leaving you completely naked and bare on the chilling countertop. His eyes gazed at your perky nipples and your subtle smooth skin. He leaves his marks on places that clothing can hide knowing you have work the next day. Seeing you squirm so much, he decides to bind your hands together using his tie he loosened earlier. It was tight, but not to the point where it’s gonna hurt or leave a mark on you. You can’t help but become a moaning mess under his warm touch. Your whines came to a halt when you pushed away his arm, stopping him from fingering you when signaled him to stop.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He looked at you with a slight worried expression carried with his tired eyes which shook in concerned. He backed away, giving you some room waiting for you to explain your disturbance.

“I can’t wait anymore, please just put it in…” You put your tied hands over his head and drewhim in closer to your body, leaving his arms to lie at the sides of your hips. At this point you’re begging for his cock, you don’t care if it’ll hurt. You just need him in you.

“Ha.. don’t complain when I start moving” he let out a sly smirk. He rips the glasses off his face and throws them on the counter. Lining himself up at your entrance his cock was more than just immersed in your juices. And there was that one massive thrust of his that made your toes curl up from the impact. His whole cock was fully inside you with one full push making you feel so full. He started moving at a slow bearable pace that built up.

“A-Aah! Baby your cock feels so good!!” You can’t help but shout about how his cock makes you feel every time he’s in you. His quickening pace makes you throw your head back every time, mixing in the stinging pain and pleasure from adjusting. His grunts mixing in with your moans, the sounds bouncing off the walls alone had you screaming in pleasure. Oh how you longed for this man’s length to be within you.

His pace starting to roughen sent you through a loop when he flipped you around with your back facing him, your right leg being propped up on the counter. At this point he was gonna drill a hole into your stomach. Hitting that one spot you enjoyed so much with all his power, he used your strapped hands behind your back as support.

“Fuuck.. sweetheart I can go all night. I-I want to cover you in my cum. I want to make.. you the mother of my future children,” he managed to mumble into your ear amongst the sound of skin to skin slapping and wet squelching noises your pussy made whenever he went in and out of you. His cock twitches inside you, ready to burst and coat the insides of your cunt his shade of white.

“D-Do it then. Cum in me.. I’m yours.. this is your pussy a-ah..!” you murmured in between moans, brain almost to the point where you can’t think straight while looking back at him. Those were the words he needed to hear before unleashing his white fluid in you, gushing when he pulled out. You let out a whimper when he pulled out, feeling empty without him to fill in that void in you. Turning to look at him with a somewhat disappointed face.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. Overall, you said your pussy belongs to me.. right?” he breathed out, his mouth curving into a slight smile as he watched his cum start to seep out. He takes off his dress shirt, exposing his chiseled figure puffing in and out profusely. He undoes his necktie from your wrists and you reach your arms for him as he carries you onto his cock. The strength he still has to keep going, especially in this position, caught you a bit surprised. Let’s just say he wasn’t tired as he seemed to appear. That was, until he started heaving you up and down in his cock which was rimmed with your fluid and his cum mixed together making loud wet sounds. Your nails pressed into his shoulder blades creating crescent shapes into his skin. This position had you gagged. It was hitting every deep sensitive area you had in you. You didn’t know if you can take him in this position any longer,as you were close to finishing on his cock.

Whenever he came, it was either in you, or on you. Seeing you practically sprawled across the kitchen counter, covered and filled by his dripping thick cum was a sight for him. You don’t know how many times he’s made you cum. Nevertheless yo ustopped counting how many rounds you went with him. He wanted to keep going, but you were at your limit as well as for his physical body. He also knew you both couldn’t keep on going, as it was also getting even later the more you fucked.

“H-Ha.. I think dinner’s cold, sweetheart” were the words he said before releasing his last load on your face.

*.༄ GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU, NANAMI KENTO, ZHONGLI, CHILDE, DILUC, KUROO TETSUROU, BOKUTO KOUTARO, AKAASHI KEIJI, MIYA TWINS, OIKAWA TOORU, HAWKS, EREN YEAGER, LEVI ACKERMAN, ARTEM (ALL AGED UP/POST-TIME SKIP), and of course any of your favorite characters!!!

masterlist here

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feirceangel · 1 year ago

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Imagine | Protect (Luffy)

Imagine guarding Luffy’s hat.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,224

(Not my gif)

There is something you are one hundred percent certain of. In a life plagued with precariousness and anxiety, there is one truth you can always cling to.

And that is the fact that your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, always has your back.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, he never fails to brighten your day with a smile and defeat whatever foe you're facing.

Whether you're homesick, bored, or literally having your life threatened, he's always right by your side.

He guards each of his crew with a vigour that only he can. His warm smile brighter than a thousand suns as he celebrates yet another victory.

There is another thing you're certain of.

That your captain has one treasure more precious than any of his other objects.

His straw hat.

Given to him by the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, Luffy values that hat above all else.

Even at the cost of his own safety.

There's been countless times where you've watched in horror as Luffy was struck but managed to keep one hand firmly atop his hat.

It never got easier seeing him battle men quadruple his size and strength. Your stomach would clench with worry and you'd do your best to help battle the other opponents, but you always felt so helpless.

Watching him take on such intense foes made you feel proud of him and also concerned for his well being.

Although now that you've been sailing as a Straw Hat Crew member for months, you've come to realize that your captain can take on anything.

His hat, less so.

So, here you sit, quietly mending his hat as Luffy gapes at your handiwork.

"Awesome!" He grins, face alight with joy, "You're good at this, Y/n!"

"I'm just glad you're okay," you confess, carefully stitching away.

It's no secret how you feel about Luffy: everyone on the crew knows about your crush. And you have confidence that Luffy feels the same way.

It's in the little things he does. Always finding an excuse to hug you, explore new islands with you, and even share his food with you. And he never shares his food with anyone else.

So, it's safe to say he at least likes you.

He laughs, "You need to stop worrying so much!"

"You need to stop getting beat up!" You fire back, finishing your stitch. "Seriously, I'm starting to think you like pain."

He laughs, "I don't! But I got him in the end, Y/n! That's all that matters."

You sigh and motion for him to bow his head. He does and you gently set his hat back in its rightful place.

He grins up at you, "Thanks, Y/n! Let's go see if Sanji's done making supper!"

Luffy snatches your hand in his as soon as you drop your needle into your sewing kit. He drags you into the kitchen, using his devil fruit power to snatch up an apple.

"Sanji," he mumbles around a mouthful of fruit, "When's food gonna be ready? I'm hungry."

"Not yet," the cook shakes his head. "I need thirty more minutes."

Luffy groans loudly, leaning his head on your shoulder, "That's too long!"

"You have to wait!"

Luffy scrunches his nose in annoyance before dragging you outside again. Once there, he shoves the apple near your mouth, "Have a bite!"

You're surprised he hasn't eaten it all already. Opening your mouth, you take a large bite of the tangy goodness, humming your approval.

"Thanks," you start to mumble but he stops you mid sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

A furious heat flushes your face at his abrupt actions.

"W-what was that for?"

He grins and swipes his tongue over his mouth, "You had juice on your lips."

You're floored, unable to respond as the kiss replays in your head. Meanwhile, he's already walking away with a giddy giggle.

You watch with bated breath as Luffy's hat goes flying.

He's fighting a particularly strong foe, having to use all his focus on the battle.

Without a second thought, you race after his treasure, determined to keep it safe for him. He's always doing so much for you, so you want to return the favour.

The other Straw Hats are occupied, no one noticing as you slip away to chase after the stray hat. A strong wind has blown it quite the distance, and you find it stuck on a tree branch.

You grab it, turning on your heel to trudge back to the main fight. But there's a problem.

A large group of marines stand in front of you, each one wearing a menacing grin.

"Look who we have here," the supposed leader comments, stepping forwards.

You instinctively hide Luffy's hat behind your back, grinning back ferociously.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing so far from the real fight?"

"Could ask you the same," he sneers. "What's that behind your back? Is it the infamous Straw Hat Luffy's straw hat?"

Your grip on the straw tightens.

"You're in charge of safeguarding it huh? Is that all you're good for?"

They laugh amongst themselves.

"I wonder if they'd kick you out if you failed the one task they gave you," he steps forward again.

"Over my dead body," you hiss, taking out your weapon after securing the hat to your belt. "If this hat is destroyed, then I have no reason to go on."

Before they can make the first move, you've taken down two of them, angered at their words and fuelled with the desire to protect Luffy's treasure.

The fight goes on too long.

Outnumbered, you take hits that knock you down and leave you bloodied and bruised. Maybe even with a few broken bones.

By now, you're on the ground, clutching the hat in your bloodied hands as a torrent of kicks fall on your back.

You took down well over half the marines but the few remaining are mad as hell and taking it out on you.

You barely register the outraged cry of your captain as he shouts, "Gum-Gum Gatling!"

The kicks stop as your attackers go flying, landing with dull thuds. They don’t get back up again.

Luffy is quick to rush to your side, “Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“Luffy,” you manage a small smile, shakily handing him his hat. “I protected your treasure.”

He doesn’t smile, in fact he looks angry.

“Idiot! You’re my treasure,” he shouts, gripping onto your shoulders, “And now you’re hurt!”

Confused, you stare up into his eyes, “But you love this hat.”

“But I love you more,” he shakes you again before screaming for Chopper to come and assess the damage done to you.

After you’re back on the ship, nicely bandaged and safe in bed, Luffy approaches you again. He seems less energetic than normal, dragging his feet as he comes to the bed.

“Thank you for protecting my hat. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“Luffy,” you gently clasp his hand, “You’ve always protected me.”

His eyes are wet with tears, “But-“

“I couldn’t ask for a better captain,” you reiterate, pulling him closer. “You’re all I could hope for.”

“Really?”

“Honest,” you smile, “Now come here.”

You drag him into your arms, wincing slightly. He is cautious of your injuries, gently returning your hug.

“Thank you.”

#female reader #imagine #reader insert #one piece imagine #op x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #Luffy op #one shot #fanfic

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lunajay33 · 7 months ago

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Touch Starved🖤

Summary: requested by @azanoni Daryl is touch starved and desperately craves your comforts and affection, you’ve been so busy lately that you’ve both barely gotten any time for eachother so when he comes to you with his head down and wary you knew he needed your love

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

After everything that happened with the saviors and having Daryl back now it felt like things could get normal again, well as normal as they could but I felt like if I stopped helping and trying to protect Alexandria it would fall again and by doing that I guess I’ve been neglecting mine and Daryl’s relationship so when Maggie said I need the day off I took it

I went back to mine and Daryl’s house seeing Dpg laying on the porch steps, once he spotted me his tailed thumped against the wood and he ran over circling me as I tried to walk towards the house, he loved Daryl and I he was only really like this with us

“Come on bud I need to be able to walk” I said kneeling down and scruffing his fur hoping it was good enough so he’d just walk beside me instead of circling

As I walked up the stairs Daryl opened up the door and looked at me with a sadness in his eyes that hurt my heart, after a moment of starring his head dropped like he did when he needed comfort and was ashamed of it and I didn’t wait a second to wrap my arms around him holding his head against my shoulder, he walked backwards to lead me into the house, dog running in right by me

“Daryl baby what’s wrong?” I asked running my hand through his hair

“Ya’ve been gone s’ much, I never see ya” he grumbled into my neck

“Oh D I’m so sorry, I’ve just been so worried about terrible things happening again and I guess I got swept up in it, but I’m gonna relax more because, I miss you too so so much, I miss your little smirk when I tease you, or the way you wrap your arm around my hip at night and pull me closer, or when we just sit with eachother, I’m really sorry”

He lifted his head to look down at me, pushing my hair back behind my ear and settling his hand on my cheek

“I just feel wrong with our ya here, dog does too, he’s been whining as he watched the streets, I just wanna feel ya again, be able to love ya like we use ta”

“Okay, okay I’ll make more time for us, because at the end of the day yeah I can work for the community all I want but you’re the one I come home to, you’re the one I love with all my heart, what can I do to cheer you up”

“How ‘bout we have a date night, supper, drinks, lil fire, maybe some dessert”

“Oh really, and what would you like for dessert Dixon?” I asked sultry wrapping my arms around his shoulders

“Hmmm I’m thinkin some strawberries and…….” He seemed hesitant but there was a spark in his eyes

“Annnnndddddd?”

“You”

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year ago

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[Sanji finds you crying and pretends to believe your excuses. Is anyone up for slow dancing in the rain?]

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When the time for supper came, Sanji knocked on your door to let you now. He was met with silence, so he naturally assumed you were sleeping. Not much of a problem - he'll set aside a portion for when you wake up hungry.

The problem is, that was around two hours ago.

Sanji knocked on your door again and when silence answered him this time also, he allowed himself to peek inside. Only to discover your bed is empty. He grew suspicious, if not worried, when no one could tell him where you went. It's the middle of the night and the rainstorm doesn't stop. Sanji also noticed how quiet and upset you've been most of the day, making him all the more tense that you are unaccounted for. The thought that you're obediently suffering in silence breaks him more each time he entertains it.

Sanji is scrubbing the cutting board with feverish vigour. The faster he finishes, the faster he can get to making sure you're fine. As though the fish scales knew his thoughts, they simply wouldn't get off the wooden surface.

The steel scrubber escapes his hands. It hits the sink with a quiet clank. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and looks away from the pile of dishes. That's when he finally sees you through the smudged porthole. The rain outside obscures your silhouette. Nevertheless, Sanji is beyond convinced that it is, in fact, you. Despite the initial relief, he feels his chest tighten. You look like a marble statue, forever frozen still in grief.

Leaving the cutting board in the sink and grabbing his suit jacket, Sanji dashes out the door, making haste to you. What on Earth do you think you're doing out in this weather?

The cold rain hits him like a wall of ice. True, the cool water may feel refreshing after the hot and humid daytime hours but not at this rate of rainfall. Even if the nights in the open sea weren't so dark, it would still be impossible to see anything beyond the ship.

He has to come close to you to see the heartwrenching details of your silhouette. You're hunched over, staring at the turbulent waters below. The clothes you're wearing are absolutely drenched, no dry string in their material. Every now and then, your freezing body shivers violently.

"Love?" he calls out to you in an unsure voice.

But you don't react - at least not in the way he has been expecting you to. Instead of looking at him, you turn your face further away, quickly wiping it with your hands.

Sanji wastes no time. In long strides, he finds himself pressed up against your side and forcing his jacket around your shoulders. Considering the heavy rain it won't do much in the long run but maybe it can keep you warm until he convinces you to go back inside.

"Hey, look at me," he pleads in a soft voice.

Too tired and heartbroken, you let his warm fingers guide your face towards him. As if time suddenly slows down, you notice each wrinkle that appears and disappears when he studies your sorrowful expression. If he was a little less perceptive, Sanji would think your face is just wet from the heavy rainfall. The red veins of your bloodshot, puffy eyes are hardly visible in the darkness of the rainy night but not black enough to remain unseen by Sanji.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? What happened?" he keeps asking. With each question, he feels the tension in his chest only rising.

"I'm not crying, I'm perfectly fine," you reassure him. Your forced scoff is followed by a pathetic sniffle. "It's just the rain. Saltwater irritated my eyes."

Of course, with your whole "I'm brave and strong and I can manage on my own" facade, you're not going to openly admit to weakness in front of anyone, even if it's painfully obvious. As much as Sanji considers your tough image charming, he wishes you would discard it once in a while - for your own sake.

"How can you be fine with saltwater in your eyes, princess?" Sanji goes along with your poorly constructed lie. His arms engulf you in a warm, albeit drenching wet, hug. "It must burn."

"Yeah, it does," you mumble against his soaking shirt. With a little more light, you would be able to see his bare skin from underneath the wet material. "But it's getting better."

One of Sanji's hands is keeping your head against his shoulder while the other drags up and down your back in a soothing gesture. The jacket he has put around your arms is already drenched, too. He feels your body shaking but can't be sure whether it's because of the "saltwater" or the cold weather. In any case, his heart breaks each time he feels those spasms. His mind panics in search of something that could possibly lift your mood.

The noise of the rainfall is disrupted by a soft, low hum. A melody you vaguely know rumbles inside Sanji's chest. Dean Martin...? Strong arms hold you tightly against his torso as he ever-so-gently sways you to the rhythm of the song.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you let yourself sink into the comfort of him. Up until this moment, the cosiness of a loved one's arms confronted with the coldness of a rainstorm, you've thought that scenes like these exist only in sappy novels written for naive young women.

"Slow dancing in the rain," you finally speak up. If it wasn't for the rather unpleasant rain drenching you to every last string of your clothing, yous wear you could fall asleep like this. "Aren't you a hopeless romantic, Sanji?"

"I'm just getting started, love," he murmurs against your hair, still slowly swaying your bodies despite having stopped the humming. You're inclined to believe that his chivalry ventures far beyond dancing in the rain.

"Oh, yes, please."

A low chuckle rumbles inside his chest. It merges into a symphony with the soft thrumming of his steady heartbeat.

"Feeling any better?" he asks in a serious tone.

To Sanji's dissatisfaction, you lean away from him to look at his face. Your eyes are still red but the curious glint he's learned to associate with you has found its way back into them. It seems like your grit, honesty or facade, has returned.

"What will you do if I say no?" you ask back.

As relief washes over him, Sanji smiles down at you. His hand slicks your drenched hair out of your puffy face.

"I should figure something out just for my baby," he answers without missing a beat. His fingers brush along your jaw and chin.

Before you have a chance to inquire, Sanji leans down and lifts you. A yelp of surprise is pulled out of your chest. Without much problem and clearly with a lot of enjoyment, he carries you back inside the lower deck of the ship.

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fullofgutsndopamine · 7 months ago

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i’m half doomed (and you’re semi sweet)

tw: mention of fighting, flashback of fighting,hasan is kind of a dick, angst if you squint, unspecific fighting, mention of break up

more here

there’s loud giggling coming from deep in the house.

honestly you didn’t realize how much you missed it until just now, just realizing how lacking it was, how quiet the house was without hasan’s loud footsteps and constant bumping around.

“Aurora-“

you call gently, just as hasan rounds the corner, his hair a million different ways and a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Speak of the devil.”

you say lowly, hoping that the only person who heard it was hasan and not his twin that is two steps behind him, constantly colliding with the back of his legs.

“Mama,” she buries her face into your legs until you kneel down, moving the mop of curly hair out of her eyes when she speaks again. “Can Papa stay?”

it’s a question, not a demand.

“Oh,” hasan says quickly, panic evident in his eyes. this is definitely not something he was prepared for, “baby-“

“Baby,” you coo, the spoon resting on the oven, “We have an early morning tomorrow-“

“and-“ hasan’s knees crack as he kneels on the tile of the kitchen, his hands a claw as he tickles her belly, “someone has to get some good sleep because someone has a birthday tomorrow. I wonder who that could be-“

she giggles, her hands go into hasan’s hair as she gently pulls at it and he continues to tease her:

“who’s birthday is it tomorrow? Hm, I can not for the life of me remember-“

she giggles, climbs onto his knee and pulls at the corner of his eyes, pulls at the corner of his lips until he’s smiling:

“it’s mine, Papa!”

he gasps:

“it’s yours?!” he shakes his head, “absolutely not. you’re my baby you aren’t allowed to get older-“

you have to turn away. it’s too sweet, reminds you of when things were briefly okay-when hasan was home and didn’t have dark bags under his eyes, when he would actually come around and help-those long nights out when he came home reeking of cigarettes and in stained clothes, how your voice cracked as you begged to not be a single parent (or at least, what felt like one)

hasan’s eyes flash to yours as he stands, Aurora thrown over his shoulder. his voice drops as he leans in, and you try to ignore how you can feel his hot breath against your ear:

“i’ll leave soon. i’m sorry-“

suddenly meek and mild, not the hasan who made himself known, had no problem with that-

“Papa,” Aurora sticks her head out from behind his back, “Stay for supper? it’s just me and mama-“

his eyes snap to yours. his, wide with worry and like a deer in headlights, trying to not fuck up this co parent thing.

“Baby-“

“Mama,” Aurora pleads, “Please?”

her eyes are wide and sad and they suddenly look very much like hasan’s

“Well,” your eyes shoot to wilbur’s, “If Papa doesn’t have any plans-“

Aurora doesn’t hear that part. hears exclusively the yes that she got and squeals as hasan tries to steady her on his shoulder.

“hope you weren’t busy.” you smirk. you’re teasing, obviously, as you stir the pasta on the stove.

“Go wash your hands, babe.” hasan says gently, sets her on the floor and watches as she runs towards the restroom, still squeaking.

“Nah.” He shrugs, leaning over the stove now, finally answering. “i had a frozen pizza with my name on it but honestly-“

his hand dips into the pan on the stove, where there’s some sauce the chicken lays in. his finger connects, drags through it and brings it to his mouth with a happy sigh before you can smack his hand away:

“no, no.” he finally says, wipes his finger on his worn jeans, “this was much better, anyways.”

“what, freezer burned pizza doesn’t cut it these days?” you tease back against your better judgment, “you’ve changed.”

He laughs and the side of his eyes crinkle and the bags under his eyes are more evident and you try to shake it off before you can over think it.

“Look-“

Aurora comes back into the kitchen, all but stomping as she gets to the table:

“Mama,” She pulls her chair back, “Papa can sit next to me. I’ll get him a plate!”

You turn the flame off the stove and reach over, grabbing a plate and handing it off to Aurora, who tangled her hand into her father’s and drags him to the table with his plate.

dinner isn’t even as uncomfortable as you imagined. you imagined him clearing his throat, desperately looking for something to say, or having to take an emergency phone call to try and make himself leave early-

instead, he listens contently to every word aurora says. gasps at the appropriate times when she tells stories, knows when to gently remind her to focus on trying to eat; he falls back into the routine you two had like no time had passed. it was comforting, in a way, but knew the familiar ache would come back when he left

instead, you ignore it for your daughter. try to push it down and make it a problem for tonight-already knowing sleep won’t be on the agenda anyways, so this is something you can overthink again and again until your forced to pace in your kitchen by the light of the stove-

“I mean,” hasan clears his throat, “it depends on what your mama thinks-“

“Hm?”

you try to not make it obvious you weren’t listening, lost in your own thoughts.

“I said,” Aurora huffs, “Papa should stay and read me a bedtime story! for my birthday, mama!”

hasan looks sad in his seat. like it hit him that he’s doomed to a lifetime of day before or day after, always belated birthdays with his daughter, always an excuse or a reason-

“babe-“

you can tell by the way hasan speaks he’s setting it up to gently let her down, to try and slowly pull the dagger out of her back

“that sounds like a good idea to me,” you stay instead, “I think you have a new book Papa would like too-“

hasan’s head snaps up so quick at your voice you’re briefly afraid he’s going to break his own neck.

“M-me?”

his finger is hard against his own chest, his voice borders on shock or disgusted, you aren’t sure which one yet-

“Put your plate in the sink, Rory.” you say gently instead, “And then you can show papa your book.”

she squeals as she hops off the chair, drops the plate and goes back to hasan, where her fingers tangled into his and she pulls him away.

enough time has passed and the house is quiet enough you can hear the sinks steady stream of water fall from the faucet, a leak you can never remember to fix, that you finally figure you should check to see why it’s so quiet.

your hands play with the bottom of the old shirt you wear, suddenly aware of the old clothing and how dirty and stained it is-how for a while, hasan would be dressed up when he got home, when things were briefly okay-white button ups untucked out of jeans after a long shift, the buttons undone on the sleeve and how they were crookedly shoved up to his elbows-

a deep breath, insisting the worst-a toddler meltdown, hasan frustrated and near tears or him just gone, somehow escaped through the front door as you devoured the silence of a dinner you haven’t had in years

instead as you nudgethe bright yellow door open, you find hasan-

the bed is far too small for him; his feet dangle off the edge of them and you know his neck and back are going to hurt the next day now-but instead of a meltdown he lays on his back in the too small bed and on his chest, a little head curled under his chin with the blanket drawn up to her own neck, eyes closed and fast asleep but hasan still gently flips through the book, his voice low and steady as he reads gently in her ear-

“you’ve always had some special talent for being able to put her right to sleep.”

he laughs, closes the book and sets it on the nightstand where a picture of the three of them at a pumpkin patch years ago lays-Aurora on your hip, hasan’s face pressed against yours and silly smiles on your faces, cheeks pink from the wind blowing-

“i’ve always said i was boring,” he sighs, ruffles Aurora’s hair gently, “Guess that confirms it.”

“come on,” you roll your eyes, “I have coffee for the road for you. Just how you like it.”

he hesitates for a second. a careful kiss to the crown of auroras head, before he starts the gentle dance of untangling himself from her. limbs appears slowly; an arm, a leg, a torso-Aurora never stirs; a heavy sleeper like her father as he ducks out of the room.

in the kitchen you carefully pour black coffee into a to go cup, making sure the temperature is right before putting half a packet of splenda (the yellow package only, the one you keep far in the back of the cabinet for him, for these rare visits, in hopes he’ll come back) before securing the lid and handing it over.

hasan takes a sip, savors it as he groans and closes his eyes, really enjoying every sip.

“I needed that, princess,” he sighs, “thank you.”

princess hangs in the air and you try to not let it overpower you. try to not let him see the pink that climbs up your face with the old familiar name

i miss you, you think. the bed is too big without you. instead it comes out; “Any plans for the night?”

he takes another long sip of coffee before answering: “nah.” and he leaves it at that.

you snort, “i have a pack of 25 multi colored balloons that need to be blown up if you’re bored.”

you’re teasing. it’s obvious, at least you think. previous birthdays where hasan would be poured over the scratched up table in the front room, slowly, carefully, blowing up balloons until he collapsed back in the seat always insists this is the last year he would be doing this. you tried to bite back the sting when you think that time actually was the last time.

“Yeah,” hasan nods, locks his lips: “sure, i’ll do those real quick-“

“hasan,” you scoff, “you don’t have to-“

he throws back the last of the coffee, shakes his head: “it’s the least i can do. always your least favorite part. i’ll be quick, and then i’ll leave, i promise.”

out of habit when he says promise your pinky goes in the air and as if he’s never left, hasn’t stopped doing it, his pinky immediately wraps around yours, shakes once, falls

“where the usually are, yeah?”

hasan asks but doesn’t give you time to answer before he digs through the drawer, comes out with his victory, the small plastic bag of balloons.

hasan sits on the couch, gently blows them up, acts like he doesn’t hate it as you carefully unfold the banner of letters that read out happy birthday in various pastel colors as you struggle you hang it over the picture window.

“why don’t you let me do this?”

you feel hasan’s hand on the small of your back before you can even register his voice.

“remember,” he said gently, his voice low like he’s afraid he’s overdoing it, “before-you’d wrap the presents and i’d hang the banner-“

“because i could never reach the top-“

you both finish at the same time.

your hand is still in the air as you turn to face him: “and you always insisted on playing the beatles version of happy birthday as we did it. again and again-“

“i know,” he smiles, “and you’d always swear you couldn’t sleep the next three nights because it was stuck in your head.”

“that’s right.” you’re finally laughing, leaving out how you haven’t listened to that song in years now, “again and again-“

gently, he grabs the side of the banner out of your hands and has a hand on your hip as he gently supervisors you walking off the ladder before he takes your spot.

when he turns around you’re back and he knows from the old box in your hands immediately what’s next:

“the usual place?” he says gently, instead of the old comments he’d usually spit out; ‘again?’ or ‘this is so fucking stupid. she doesn’t want these pictures out’

you pass him the first photo, the frame half broken and super glued back together,permanent fingerprint stains on it that you can’t get out no matter how long you scrub or soak it-

“she was so fucking tiny.”

if you didn’t doubt yourself, you’d think hasan’s voice cracked, bordered on a whimper as his fingers danced over the silhouette of her in the frame. the day you brought her back from the hospital; hasan’s clothes are wrinkled and the bags under his eyes are big, even though his eyes are downcast and he’s looking at the tiny pink bundle of blankets in his hand with such a proud smile

“you were so afraid you were going to drop her,” you finally say as you set the final photo out, “i’m surprised i got you to take that picture.”

he carefully sets it on the table like he’s afraid it’ll break, but you realize it’s angled towards him as he sits back in the chair and brings a balloon to his mouth

“you can help me bake the cake,” you say gently as you sit on the armrest of what use to be his chair, “if you aren’t busy.”

your hand rests on his shoulder, plays with the tip of his collared shirt that’s wrinkled:

“might as well stay.” you try again. “p-please. Aurora”you shake your head, “aurora would be thrilled to see you.” you get out.

stay you think let’s get this right i can get this right

he nods slowly: “i’m here.”

and you recognize the weight in it, how you waited for this, as his hand drops into yours and follows you to the kitchen.

#caroline writes #hasanabi #hasanabi x reader #hasanabi x y/n #hasanabi x you #hasan #hasan piker x you #hasan piker fanfic #hasan piker fanfiction #hasan piker fic #hasan piker imagine #hasan piker x reader #hasan x reader #hasan piker #hasan piker ff #hasan piker x y/n

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seumyo · 7 months ago

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SAKUSA KIYOOMI ✰ 8:56

NOTE. I am now proposing Haikyuu boys with their Oldest (or Older) sister! Reader and how that dynamic goes . . inspired by this TikTok video.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, when had too many drinks at the post-wedding reception of his oldest sister, is a whole different person when completely sober. And in the rare times that he does get drunk (to no one’s surprise, he’s actually lightweight), he gets a little (a little is an understatement) sentimental and vulnerable.

It just happens; it’s not like he has any control over his raw emotions.

“What was that?” Motoya asks his cousin.

Kiyoomi had been sobbing for half an hour now, his cheeks blooming with a slight rosy hue and his eyes brimming with tears as he wiped them away with his hands—like how a crying toddler would. “Onee-san got married,” he cried through muffled hiccups.

“She’s going to start her own family.”

“And what’s gonna happen?”

“We’re never going to see each other again.”

This side of Kiyoomi was definitely quality entertainment. He rarely ever held his heart and emotions on his sleeves, but tonight was a particular exception. But then again, it was a little surprising how attached he was to his oldest sister considering how big their age gap was.

It could be that, among his siblings, the oldest of the four practically raised Kiyoomi. His older sister and brother were always too busy to play with him because of the obvious difference in their ages as well as their different developmental stages. When Kiyoomi was four, his older sister was ten, his older brother was twelve, and you—his oldest sister—were sixteen at that time.

You were always the one to entertain him whenever you got home from school, spend time with him in the manor’s library, and encourage him to make new friends (before Motoya came along and visited more often) so he wouldn’t be as lonely as he used to. So it was natural that he was much closer to you than his own parents.

“Do you want to say bye again?” Motoya suggested.

“No,” Kiyoomi sniffled, shaking his head. “I already did, it would be too awkward...”

Back in the hotel room, Motoya and Kiyoomi’s older brother—Kino—made sure he didn’t randomly collapse on the way back. They didn’t have to worry about that because Kiyoomi was quite compliant and just kept on talking about how he was going to miss you.

And of course, Kino, being the teasing little shit he was at his grown age, decided to film Kiyoomi’s confessions.

“I’m going to miss Nee-san,” he murmured.

At this point, Motoya and Kino thought that Kiyoomi’s tears were almost at an end, but the whole dam broke when Kino asked, “What’s going to happen to Nee-san?”

“She got married.”

“But that’s how it is—“

“But she’s going to leave the house!” Kiyoomi added, unknowingly folding the freshly ironed blankets the hotel staff provided earlier when they asked for another one. “She was the one who got me to play volleyball,” he said.

“I never listened to what she had to say because she was annoying sometimes, and now I’m going to miss it.”

“Aw, Kiyo!” Kino chuckled. “That’s how it is; she’s bound to start a family of her own eventually.”

But Kiyoomi couldn’t stomach the fact that he had a little too much to drink. He didn’t understand—he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he would no longer see you when he went home during the weekends if he didn’t have practice; he wouldn’t have to argue with you anymore on who would wash the dishes after supper; he wouldn’t have you cook his favorite dishes anymore.

You wouldn’t come home anymore. You wouldn’t be visiting as often as he’d hoped you would. You wouldn’t visit his games as often as you could because of your job.

The thoughts he was having were antagonizing. They made him feel small and vulnerable, and that familiar feeling of loneliness from his childhood lingers around in the form of a throbbing headache the next morning. Kiyoomi struggles to get through his hangover, but he does his best.

He stares at the mirror in his hotel room’s bathroom, then gets eye drops on his obviously red and still puffy eyes. How much did he cry last night? He doesn’t even remember anything. Kiyoomi doesn’t want to remember if it’s embarrassing. He’d much rather crawl in a hole and never resurface.

Then he sees a message from you.

[video attachment]

Aww, sleep tight, Kiyo :((

Don’t forget that I’ll always be your sister even if we don’t share the same last name anymore or even if I’m not around as often as I wished I could! You could always visit us, ok? Just text me if you need anything!

And just like that, Kiyoomi’s in tears once again.

#sakusa fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu sakusa #hq fluff #hq drabble #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #hq kiyoomi

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a-boca-do-inferno · 5 months ago

Text

medicine (caesar x human!reader)

summary: The ape colony is short on painkillers for humans, except Caesar learned a lot in his time living with them. Lucky for you.

warnings: period mention, interspecies (mild)smut

words: 1.9k

notes: lol yeah another one... im just enjoying it while i can ok. my vacation ends next month 💀 boa leitura!

It couldn’t be later than midnight. You hissed as your cramps only got harsher and harsher. In the cold everything became much worse, and this time was no different. You curled up towards Maurice to try and borrow some warmth from his fur, yet it felt helpless; your body shook like a leaf, and the pain in your womb was ridiculous.

Noticing your distress, Maurice wakes up from his sleep and signs with a worried expression, “I call Caesar?”

You shake your head even before he can say his name. The ape king had more important matters to attend to than your stupid human cramps. On top of it all, it was his resting moment now. You wouldn’t bother him with this. “No. Let him sleep.”

“Herbs?”

“Doesn’t work.” You grunt in frustration, signing with a frown. “I’m fine. By morning it will get better. It’s just the cold.”

“Winter start now.” Maurice argues, still with his gentleness in every word. You only nod in response and he insists, pointing towards Caesar’s tent. “Talk tomorrow. He can help. Lived with humans… before.”

Your eyes fell on the king sleeping a few feet away from you. Could Maurice really have a point? Perhaps Caesar indeed knew some trick to help with period cramps. You did hear he was brought up with human parents, which meant he must’ve had a woman around—you never touched on the subject out of respect, since you two weren’t close. Exchanging a last look with the orangutan, you displayed another short nod. A wave of pain reached your abdomen again and you sighed quietly, burying yourself in ginger fur, despite it being fruitless at that point.

The next day, the colony was awake as soon as the sun was out. It was a rare morning with sunlight and you thanked heavens mentally, appreciating the heat, even if mild, radiating from the star above. The pain had subdued considerably and you took the opportunity to help with supper. Sometimes you helped Maurice in school, but being on your feet proved to make matters worse those days.

You settled around the fire with the girls who tended to cooking. As you were in the middle of grilling fish, a hand touched your shoulder and you turned to face Caesar beating a tight expression. You stood up immediately to greet him, showing your respect for the king. You tried your best to look obedient to his power, as you were well aware of their history with humans, and his reaction was always the same—a dismissive hand gesture, green eyes softening gradually. However, his gaze remained serious now, and you gulped in anticipation.

“Cramps?” Caesar points to your stomach, his gravelly voice a low sound.

Your cheeks heat up and you want to roll your eyes, but refrain from doing so. Maurice and his gigantic mouth. You had hoped he’d forgotten about last night’s talk. Gesturing sheepishly, you stare at the floor. “It’s fine. The sun helps.” You motion upwards to prove your point.

Caesar glances at the pink sky and notices the big star almost fading in the horizon, then back at you. Your inability to keep eye contact with him didn’t go unnoticed, either, making him narrow his green orbs. The muscles in his jaw jump, and he grumbles, his face unimpressed, “sun not here at night.”

“I know, but...”

“But?” He challenges, raising a brow. The king crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that made him even more menacing. You were used to his imposing presence—the tall and muscular build, the scars on his body, the permanent look of seriousness—yet there were few things more intimidating than seeing Caesar like this, with his displeasure directed at you.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to sound convincing even though you felt like a child being reprimanded. “But I have Maurice to…”

“Maurice... ratted you out. Like humans… say.” Caesar cuts you off with a hint of amusement, in contrast with his dry voice. Carefully, he takes your shirt in his large hands, lifting the fabric to expose your belly without so much as a request for permission; not that he needed it, anyway. His calloused fingers made goose bumps on your skin while navigating your soft form. He lets go of you and signs sharply. “Need medicine. Can’t stay like this.”

You furrow your brows. “They don’t work, Caesar, but it’s okay. It’s just a couple of days. It’ll go away.”

He stops for a moment, contemplating your protests. His gaze flicks to your eyes, acute and intense, making you shrink under his scrutiny. “Not okay. Pain… too much.” Surely the ape would never let you be writhing in pain every night, no matter if it was but a week. With a final huff, Caesar then orders, “you stay with me tonight.”

“But I...” At the look he shoots you, you know there’s no more arguing. The king has spoken. With a defeated sigh, you nod and watch him step away on his hind legs, towering over the others. You mutter under your breath, “God, I miss democracy.”

As the day went on, you did your best to ignore the annoying throb in your abdomen, knowing you'd be glared at by Caesar if he caught you grimacing again. A low hum of crickets began to fill the night air as the apes settled down around the fire. The hour grew late and the campsite gradually became quiet, the crackling bonfire the only source of light and life.

You were eating fish alongside Maurice and Rocket, laughing at something the ginger spoke about the kids in school today. On the other side of the circle, green eyes kept vigilant over you with no subtlety at all. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burning at the attention. Caesar finished his meal, glancing towards you through the darkness as you remained by the fire after everyone was gone. He slowly made his way over, his massive figure casting a shadow as he approached you.

With some lightheartedness he signs, extending a hand, “time to rest.” Your eyes follow his gestures and you take his palm. He guides you toward his tent in considerable silence before closing the curtain-like branches draped over the entrance, hooting faintly as he points to his nest. “Lie down.”

You obey him, your breathing slowly increasing its pace. You clasp your hands over your stomach anxiously, intertwining your fingers. “What are you gonna do?”

Caesar scans over you for a moment, noting the tension in your demeanour. “Massage.” He grunts, moving to sit next to you, his muscles rippling with his every movement. The ape pries apart your hands, replacing them with his own much larger ones, his palms settling on your abdomen similar to how he did earlier. He eyes your reactions closely. “May… I?”

You didn’t respond with words, silently granting Caesar permission to go on with his idea. Hooting again, a sound that almost felt like he was trying to soothe your nerves, his rough skin made contact with your tender one, brushing and squeezing it in fairly skilful ways. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, you found yourself relaxing under his ministrations, your eyelids fluttering shut from time to time. The ape didn’t say much as he worked, green orbs fixated on your expressions while continuing to move his hands in small circles over your womb area. His face was nearly unreadable, the usual stoic frown now replaced by a look of concentration.

The ape kept going, a low grumble escaping him every now and then as he tried to maintain the pressure at a certain point to make the pain dissipate. You had no idea when it shifted in nature, yet all of a sudden, his movements seemed a lot more sensual than anything. Your interior was only getting hotter by the minute, accompanied by the clear flush on your face. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. Your attempts at making yourself believe in those affirmations were unsuccessful, pathetic at best; and it all came down crumbling when the quietest moan left your throat, causing Caesar to freeze and stop with the massage.

You stare at him with widened eyes, embarrassment and fear encapsulated in your features, and you immediately sit up and sign in desperation, your tone just as urgent, “I’m… I’m sorry, Caesar, please. It was just…”

A dark look passed over Caesar’s face as he watched you stumble on yourself with apologies. Without a word, his stare dropped to your body once more, the fingers in your abdomen applying more pressure against the flesh, feeling the heat as you reacted to his touch. He could smell your scent changing and a guttural sound escaped his lips as his green eyes glanced at you unblinking, his hand slowly drifting down your womb and stopping on your pelvis deliberately.

You inhaled sharply, in surprise and excitement, the realisation hitting you like a brick. The ape curled his digits and resumed the massage, his nostrils flaring as he huffed, clearly aroused. Your faces stood inches apart, his hot, heavy breath against you blowing your hair lightly. You put your arm around his neck and he grunted in appreciation, his expression softening at the way you whimpered in pleasure, begging for more. His fingers rubbed circles on your clit through your clothes in a steady rhythm, causing you to bury your face in his furry neck, gasping.

“I’m gonna…”

Caesar heaved in your ear encouragingly and it was the final straw. You came against his hand, squeezing your thighs in reflex whilst he kept massaging your heat through your orgasm. The ape king continued to look at you eagerly and you tried to get out of his grasp, ashamed of what just transpired. He swallowed thickly, holding onto your forearm to prevent you from scooting away, and pressed your foreheads together.

He hooted, grabbing your palm and taking it to his leg. Your gaze followed his movement and you noticed how excited he was, too. Your mind was hazy from your high just a few seconds ago, then it dawned on you that he felt as aroused as you by what happened. It wasn’t just you and your period hormones. It never even crossed your mind that it was possible for him to desire you this way. You cupped his cheeks as your heads stayed pressed to one another, closing your eyes, his scent intoxicating your system.

Caesar nuzzled your cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of you in as much as he could, making sure to memorise each and every inch of your scent under his touch. He ran his hand to place it on the nape of your neck, guiding your body towards his, until you were sitting on his lap, straddling his massive frame. The action brought your chest flush with his, a low rumble escaping him when your curves brushed his bare skin. He found the crook of your shoulder, his tongue trailing a path over the sensitive area, making you shiver. The king huffed again, his free hand sliding up your leg to grip a handful of your flesh, pulling you closer—his grip kept you in place, letting him claim you in any way he wanted.

“Cold?” He hums, still nuzzling you.

The sensation causes you to blush deeper, caressing his chin. “Not anymore.”

“Cramp?” Caesar rasps inquisitively, placing a warm palm on your belly again.

You snort and shake your head. “No. Your medicine worked... Thanks.”

You can swear there’s a smirk on his lips as he nods once, holding your hips protectively. “Good.” He presses you closer to him and huffs, and you understand it right away. Your doctor’s appointment wasn’t over yet, it seemed.

#planet of the apes #planet of the apes x reader #dawn of the planet of the apes x reader #dawn of the planet of the apes #caesar #caesar x reader #pota #pota x reader #rise of the planet of the apes #rise of the planet of the apes x reader #war for the planet of the apes x reader #war for the planet of the apes

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pinkanonwrites · 2 years ago

Text

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were.

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further furrowing of Vash's brow, your placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?"

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away.

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward?

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself.

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave.

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away.

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for.

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted?

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze.

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?"

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh.

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher.

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances."

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #trigun #my writing #long post #alien biology vash

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lady-pug · 2 months ago

Text

Written Between the Lines

Chapter V - Two Hearts as Embers

Summary: On the eve of your wedding day you are left feeling agitated, anxious and lonely. But an unexpected late-night visit and some surprising revelations might be just what you need to calm your racing heart.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece), ritualistic self-inflicted wounds, ritualistic blood consumption

Notes: Hellooo! It’s me again, and I bring you something I have been dying to write for a while (pretty much since chapter got published). I had lots of fun writing this one and ended up loving how it came out.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I have left the question of the reader’s parentage more ambiguous (she can be biologically Laenor’s daughter, or Harwin Strong’s or some other folk Rhaenyra decided to bed once, it doesn’t matter). I did this in order to not imply a certain appearance for the reader and leave the whole thing up for interpretation.

High Valyrian translations are in the end notes.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope with all my heart you enjoy!

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You had never been more agitated than you were feeling after supper. Not even the bath you requested your maids fix for you had helped to calm your skittish nerves, nor did the calming tea Alicent suggested you drink before bed. Sleep eluded you, so you decided to read something as a distraction but found yourself rereading the same sentence several times, such was your lack of concentration.

Time couldn’t go by any slower in your opinion. It had been almost four whole moons since your betrothal to Aemond, and not a day went by that you didn’t wish the wedding day would arrive faster. No less than three days after your quarrel with Jason Lannister in the courtyard (to which Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at Tyland’s apologies on behalf of his brother, pretending not to notice the proud smile Daemon sent your way once you’d told them what happened) your mother had given birth to a healthy baby girl, to whom she gave the name Visenya. You insisted on helping with the delivery, like you had done before with the birth of Aegon and Viserys, and nothing she said could pry you from her side.

“You shouldn’t see me like this, tis’ not a pleasant sight.” she had said, even though Visenya’s birth was the most uncomplicated one compared to her two older brothers you had witnessed.

“Worry not, mother.” you had soothed her, swallowing down your own fear of the whole situation “I wish to be here for you. And besides, it shall be me in the same place as you are now soon enough. I should see what awaits me.”

Almost as soon as she could stand unassisted again, without much care for her own well-being, she started planning and preparing your wedding feast, much to both Daemon’s and Alicent’s dismay. She started ordering servants around, asking the maesters to send ravens to all great houses, requesting the cooks to buy different exotic meats. You told her all the fuss wasn’t necessary, that just a feast with the whole family would suffice, but she and even Alicent scolded you, saying that the heirs to the throne warrant only the best on their wedding day.

After getting past her initial shock at the way Rhaenyra handled things, Alicent joined in the wedding planning efforts. The whole ordeal brought them closer, and now without the looming figure of Viserys, the very thing that had drifted them apart in the first place, and Otto no longer caring about securing Aegon’s claim, the both of them managed to find their footing again and their friendship started to bloom once more. It was the main reason you tried not chiming in too much on the planning of your own wedding, wanting them to have this moment for themselves knowing how much, at least on your mother’s side, she had missed her best friend.

Now, on the eve of the day you were to be wed, you were disproportionately anxious and you couldn’t even understand why. You knew Aemond wanted to marry you as much as you wanted to marry him, you knew this union would avoid a bloody and gruesome war between your kin, you knew it would make both of you, and in turn both your mothers, happy. Then why did you suddenly feel so apprehensive? It couldn’t possibly be due to cold feet, you could think of nothing else but how much you wanted this day to come. So why?

You wanted to see Aemond. His presence brought you comfort and you always felt safe when you were with him, ever since you were merely more than a babe, and even more so now that you had gotten to know each other once more. But Alicent, fervorously adept in the Faith of the Seven, had prohibited you from seeing one another after dusk had fallen, claiming that the groom seeing the bride before the wedding brought misfortune to their union. So you resigned yourself to simmering alone in your thoughts until the wedding, or until you have gone mad.

Deep down you knew you could talk to your mother. She would most likely understand, even relate to what you were feeling. However, you felt like she already had too much on her plate with the last minute preparations, same thing with Alicent (and to be honest you still weren’t all that close to your soon to be good mother, maybe someday). Daemon had been away from court for almost a week now, no word to where he was going, just a promise that he would most definitely be back for the wedding. You could talk to Helaena, but you didn’t wish to bother her with such trivial matters, as she had her hands full with her two children (three if you included her husband in the bill). Jace and Luke? Absolutely not. Maybe Baela could talk some sense into you if she was still awake at this hour.

There was one other person who used to bring you a similar sense of security as Aemond did, someone you used to go to when you felt frightened as a child and who calmed you down in a way your mother never managed to match. But he was no longer here, and the almost debilitating ache his absence evoked in your chest brought tears to your eyes. You shook your head, desperate to get rid of this feeling and focus on something else

Then something caught your attention. A muffled, dry thud echoed around your chambers, so low you almost didn’t hear it. It sounded out again, louder this time, and you guessed it was coming from the wall. Or rather behind the wall. Walking over to where the sound was coming from, you placed your head on the cold stone, the side of your face flat against the surface as you tried to listen better. You beamed brightly once you heard the sound again, this time right under your ear: someone was knocking on the wall from the other side.

Eagerly, you opened the door, expecting it to be your soon to be husband, but the face that greeted you on the other side was not who you were hoping for.

“Daemon?” you questioned, feeling more confused than ever. He didn’t answer and only stared at you until you stepped aside to let him into the room “When did you get back?”

Once again your question went unanswered as he sauntered into the chambers, and only now did you realize he was holding a beat up parcel in his hand, its contents unknown to you.

“What are you doing here?”

He placed the parcel on your bed and turned around to face you.

“Put these on and meet me outside when you are ready.” he walked back the way he came, halting only when you grabbed his hand.

“Daemon, what is going on?”

“Just do as you are told.” his face softened upon noticing the apprehension on your face, a reflection of your earlier fidgety state “Trust me on this, alright?”

After a beat you nodded, moving back towards the parcel. Looking over your shoulder you noticed Daemon had walked out the hidden door once more, leaving it ajar just a crack. As you opened the bag you were left puzzled as you pulled robes that were almost the same beige, grayish color of the parcel. As you unfolded it, however, you noticed the red details on the fabric, lining the bottom of the skirts, cuffs and shoulders. You changed out of your nightgown and pulled the robes over your head, tying it around your waist.

Staring at your reflection on the mirror, something about the clothes, all the intricate details on the midsection and the patterns embroidered in colors, all of it seemed almost too familiar to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on where you remembered it from, though, no matter how long you stared at yourself in it. Deciding not to dwell too much on it, you followed Daemon out the secret door.

A thousand questions raced through your mind as you followed him through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast. When had he gotten back? Where had he been? Where were you going? None of the scenarios you created in your head made any sense so you kept your head down and followed after your step-father. You eventually left the passages, coming out on the side of Aegon’s High Hill that faced the sea. Daemon started walking towards Shadowblack Lane, intending to climb all the way down to the beach.

“Where are we going?” you asked, careful to watch your footing on the steep track.

“You will see.” he gave no more away, elusive as ever.

“You know, kepa, had I not known you for so long now I would think you are trying to abduct me before my wedding day.”

“You know I have never been the biggest fan of the one-eyed cunt, tala.” he chuckled at the scathing glare you sent his way “But you seem fond of him, so I rest my case.”

You walked the rest of the way in silence before you stood a short distance from the beach. There, as you walked ahead of Daemon, you spotted three lone figures, standing next to decorations in shades of red and yellow and illuminated by lit pyres. Upon closer inspection you realized one of them was your mother, holding something you couldn’t quite make out in her arms, and another was a priest or cleric of some kind. The third person, on the other hand, you couldn’t even see for their face was obscured by the hood of their cloak.

As she noticed you approaching, Rhaenyra nudged the hooded figure who turned around to face you as well, and when you could finally see under the cloak you felt like your heart had ceased beating and all air left your lungs in a single, shaky exhale.

No, you thought, it can’t be. He was dead, had been dead for years. He couldn’t possibly be here, your tired mind had to be playing tricks on you.

But when he pulled the cloak down, revealing all of himself to you, it was clear it wasn’t an image conjured by your mind to toy with you. He was really here.

“Father?”

Your voice was so soft, so scared that if you spoke too loudly you’d break whatever spell you were under, wake up in your bed and find out you had been dreaming all along. Tears brimmed in your eyes, something heavy and tight burning on your throat, as you felt a hand gently rubbing between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t even noticed when Daemon had caught up to you, now trying to bring you comfort in your most vulnerable moment. One look at your mother smiling kindly at you, a mist in her own eyes as she gave you a single nod, had you taking off running into the arms of Laenor Velaryon.

You buried your face in his chest, your arms circling his waist as his own wrapped around your shoulders, one hand gently cradling the back of your head and holding you tightly against him. Years upon years of pent up grief, of deep seated longing and anger and resentment and pain and desperation poured out of you, a weight being lifted off your shoulder as they shook from the force of your sobs. You felt him tightening his arms even further around you, swaying you from side to side as he used to do when you were younger and in need of comfort, and the realization that he was here, that he was truly alive, made you shed even more tears and cry even harder.

Eventually your sobs subsided to sniffles and you pulled back, staring up at him. He used the bottom of his cloak to dry the lone tears that still rolled down your cheeks, the coarse material helping ground you enough to properly take in the sight of him. He looked expectedly older than you remembered, more worn down, but at the same time the lines of worry on his face seemed less deep than before, like he was happier, more free somehow. His silver hair was a lot shorter, having foregone the dreads and letting his natural curls take over.

“H-how… how are you-?!” you hiccuped, still not fully understanding the situation.

“Tis’ a long story, mayhaps better suited for another time.” he spoke delicately “Your mother can explain it to you in the future.”

“But what are you doing here?”

The grin that spread across his face was as bright as you remembered, so mirthful and full of life.

“You did not think I was going to miss my little girl’s wedding, now, did you?” he poked your ribs, another nod to simpler times.

For a moment you panicked, holding tightly onto his forearms as if he would disappear if you let him go.

“No, you can’t!” you stammered, fearful “If someone sees you at the sept-”

“No one will see me,” he shook his head, running a hand over your hair in hopes of soothing you “for I am not going to the sept.”

“Then how…?”

Your mother finally stepped forward.

“Tis’ why we are here tonight.” she spoke for the first time since you arrived at the beach and it was then that you figured out what she was holding.

A traditional headpiece.

And everything started making sense. You might not have remembered the clothes but you could never forget the headpiece worn by your mother during hers and Daemon’s own wedding. You had been too out of it to truly pay attention to what was happening, for the death of your father and the whole ordeal with Aemond on Driftmark were still fresh and weighing heavily on your mind, but you remember looking at her and thinking how well the piece suited her, making her look like the most beautiful woman in the realm in your eyes.

It made sense, the robes, the cleric, the decorations.

It was a valyrian wedding ceremony.

“Getting Caraxes to accept him as a passenger was quite the task.” Daemon jested. So that’s where he had been the previous days, he had gone to fetch your father.

Rhaenyra and Daemon had organized the whole thing in order for you not only to have a wedding in the traditions of your roots, something they knew both you and Aemond cherished deeply and bonded over, but also to give the opportunity for your father to witness it.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Laenor continued, cupping your cheeks “You are my first born and my only daughter, no matter what anyone says.”

The smile that took over your features threatened to split your face in half from how large it was, a new wave of tears pooling in your eyes as you hid in his arms once more. It didn’t matter if you were his by blood or not, he was your father. He was the one who had cared for you, who soothed you when you were sorrowful, who held you when you were frightened. He was the one who had started teaching you how to fight, how to defend yourself against a world that would certainly try to bring you down. He was your father and you loved him as such.

A set of footsteps approaching had you pulling back from him, turning to face whoever had intruded in your moment, only to come face to face with Aemond. He was wearing similar robes to your own, the clothing complementing his figure and making him appear even more handsome to you.

He stared at you in bewilderment, his eye moving rapidly between your father next to you and your mother who now stood next to Daemon. She placed the headpiece in her husband’s hands as she walked towards Aemond, and as she approached him, Laenor gently grasped your shoulders and turned you away from them, starting to style your hair.

You tried not to eavesdrop, you really did, but Rhaenyra wasn’t being very subtle either way.

“This is me trusting you.” she spoke with conviction, not wavering in front of a man seemingly feared by the whole court “If this got out, it could be my ruin. I am trusting you to keep this secret, valonqar, as I am trusting you with her.” there was a pause in her speech before she continued “Should you break my trust, for any reason whatsoever, either by betraying me or her, I will take her away from you. You will never see her again.”

It was silent for a moment, her words striking fear even in your own heart, before you heard Aemond’s quiet answer, his voice almost a whisper.

“Kostā pāsagon nyke, mandia. Nyke kivio.”

A warmth spread through your chest as you took in his words. Laenor seemed to notice your giddiness for he chuckled at your antics.

“Does he make you happy?” he spoke after a moment, his tone more serious than before.

“He does.” you answered without hesitation.

His hands settled on your shoulders, his voice lowering so only you could hear.

“And do you love him?”

Turning around you noticed the pleading look in his eyes, hidden behind the wall of sterness, and you noticed how much your joy mattered to him, even after all these years.

“I do.”

His worry melted away as he smiled brightly again.

“Tis’ all I could ask for.” he pulled a few strands of your hair, giving it its finishing touch “There, now you are the prettiest princess in the realm.” he spoke softly, reciting the words he would always say when helping you style your hair as a child.

With a kiss to the top of your head, your father turned you back around towards your husband to be, who stood next to Rhaenyra, and something made you stop dead in your tracks.

He was no longer wearing his eyepatch.

Sometime between the moment he arrived and now, while you had your back turned to him, he had bared his face for all to see. The force of the realization of what he did, of what this meant to him almost brought you to your knees. This was him, trusting in your mother, like she trusted him before. By trusting her enough to show her the most vulnerable side of him, one he had admitted once to having never shown anyone other than yourself and the occasional maester before, not even his own mother, he was proving to her that the faith she had placed in him wasn’t unwarranted.

In this very moment you knew you never wanted to spend another day apart from him ever again.

Rhaenyra stepped forward then, the headpiece back on her hands and, as you walked closer to the two of them, she placed it on your head, straightening your clothes. She didn’t have to speak, for her smile revealed everything she was thinking.

I am so proud of you.

“I know, mother.” you whispered and you could swear she blinked a few times too fast, trying to keep her own tears from falling. She took a step back, going to stand between Laenor and Daemon behind you as you finally turned to face Aemond fully.

He looked beautiful, perhaps more than you’d ever seen before. The light cast from the pyres shining on the sapphire, glimmering like the night sky, made him look almost celestial, the red of the robes contrasting against his pale skin and under the white strands of his hair. As you stood before each other, so close you could feel the heat emanating from him, all your thoughts were silenced, none of them mattering now that you were about to be united in fire and blood.

“Shall we begin then?” your mother gestured for the man, who you now realized was a dragon priest, to step forward and stand besides the two of you, handing Aemond a small blade made of dragonglass.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va sȳdronti vāedroma.” the man spoke in a measured cadence, almost as if he was reciting a love poem or singing a ballad.

Blood of two, joined as one

Aemond raised the blade to your lips, cutting a small line across the middle of your bottom lip.

“Mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr.”

Ghostly flame, and song of shadows

He brought a finger to your lips and tenderly, almost reverently, dabbed his finger in the speck of blood that had formed on your skin. He traced a line in the middle of your forehead, right between your eyes, branding you with a mark, his mark.

“Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteski.”

Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires

You, in turn, did the same to him, reveling in the softness of his lips as you slashed his skin. Like he had done, you gathered the crimson liquid and marked him as inherently yours.

“Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi.”

A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness

The dragon priest then handed you a larger dragonglass blade which you used to slash a line across your palm, handing it to Aemond so he could do the same, none of you minding the sharp sting. Then the both of you took each other’s hand, perfectly aligning the fresh cuts as your fingers intertwined almost on instinct.

“Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”

The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light

With a goblet placed under your joined hands, collecting the dripping crimson of your mixed blood, the priest wrapped an embroidered ribbon around your hands, uniting you for eternity.

Once he was done reciting the vows, the man then handed you the chalice and Aemond’s eye followed your every move as you brought it to your lips. The coppery taste didn’t bother you, warmth filling in your chest at the comfort the thought of consuming the merge of both your essences elicited in you.

Aemond did the same, taking a generous gulp from the goblet, and you couldn’t help the flush that took over your cheeks as you watched the way his throat moved as he swallowed or how his tongue peeked out of his mouth as he licked his lips, not letting one drop go to waste.

Only after the dragon priest had taken the chalice from his hands did Aemond step even closer to you, toes almost touching. He placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head to look at him, thumb delicately tracing the line he had cut on your mouth. Then slowly, gently, he pulled your face towards his and placed a soft albeit passionate kiss on your awaiting lips. He kissed you with devotion, with a sureness of a man who knew exactly where he wanted, no, needed to be. He poured all of his feelings into that one kiss, sealing your fates forever now, tying it to one another.

He reluctantly pulled back, although he did relent to one final tender peck as your lips chased after his own, resting his chin on your shoulder as he embraced you.

“I have longed for this day for as long as I can remember.” he whispered, like he was bestowing upon you his most well kept secret “And now you are mine.”

“I am yours.” you cupped his cheek as you pulled back, running a thumb over his scar like you had come to learn soothed him “As you are mine.”

“I am.” he nodded as he nudged his nose against your cheek, causing your head to turn to the side, facing your family “I have always been.”

As you stared at your family, Rhaenyra no longer trying to hold back her tears as both Laenor and Daemon tried comforting her, you felt loved and adored and safe and content in the arms of your husband. In this very moment, you couldn’t help but thank whatever gods were listening for giving you this, everything you could have ever dreamed of. You’d cherish it greatly from this day, until the end of your days.

High Valyrian translations: - ‘kepa’ and ‘tala’ - father and daughter (meant here affectionately, not by blood, as there are no terms for step-relative in High Valyrian) - valonqar - younger brother - kostā pāsagon nyke, mandia. nyke kivio - you can trust me, (older) sister. i promise

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x niece!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic

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rabbit-reveries · 1 year ago

Text

—𝑺weet Sister

Synopsis: Aemond fears his youngest sister might fall prey to Aegon's infamous appetite. So, as a dutiful brother, he decides to claim her before he can.

Warnings: Smut, canon-typical incest, innocence kink, slight degradation, pet names, praise, way too many "good girl"s, p in v sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 5124

He watches his sister with one violet eye, trying to hide in his face the anger bubbling deep in his chest at the sound of her girlish laughter. She doesn't even realize, does she? No, of course she doesn't. Aeressa, innocent as spring's first bloom, gazes at Aegon with wonder, unaware of the web of lies he weaves to ensnare her attention. Watching is so hard— No, he can't risk letting his guard down. A second is all his brother needs. To protect her honor, he must continue to keep watch. In amazement, the girl turns to him and takes his hands in hers.

"Isn't it incredible, Aemond?" squeals her. Incredible indeed. The youngest of the five siblings and Daeron's twin, Aeressa has no way of remembering the event Aegon retells, but the second-born prince surely has, and it was nothing like in the words of the heir. Doesn’t his tongue burn from all this nonsense? Ever since the princess’ first signs of coming of age, he’d been pulling all sorts of stunts to try and capture her gaze, no doubt in hopes of deceiving their poor sister into buying his fake affection and giving herself to him. Aemond watched the same happen with Helaena years before. The fact that he still cares for Aeressa soothes his heart, a clear giveaway that his older brother has yet to succeed in his devious plans. Sweet, sweet Aeressa… Too precious for her own good. He holds her hand over his. If he could, he’d keep her locked to himself, safe from the dangers of the world and its men.

She laughs again, the glorious sound filling the dining table. The prince watches Aeressa blush as Aegon leans in to whisper something in her ear, clenched jaw and hand protectively over hers. Her expression is soft and betrays no alarm, but she turns away to rest her head on Aemond’s shoulder. He relaxes the tiniest bit. So she hasn't fallen. There is still time. Aegon seems to notice it as well, all the hidden messages in such a small act, and it is clear on his face. He’s been growing impatient, and Aemond pretends not to notice. Pretends it doesn’t frighten him. He knows his brother’s only been playing nice because the subject of the matter is their sister, but that he has no qualms over taking what he deems his. The servant girls are all so very terrified of him.

In what can only be a desperate measure, Aegon takes the hand that used to sit under Aemond’s and kisses it, leaning once more to whisper in Aeressa’s ear. Aemond turns to Helaena, hoping now would be the time for a jealous fit, but it is only a feeble expectancy knowing her. Characteristically, she picks at her food, seemingly unaware of her brother-husband's antics. It is only by the slight furrow of her brow that he knows the princess isn’t deaf and blind to the scene displayed in front of her. Alicent is sitting at the head of the table and watches her children with a look of worry. If she didn’t have the same look every time she gazed at them, Aemond might have considered it some small victory. Gods, don’t they see this indecency? Is he alone on Earth? Is he the only one who might be able to protect this girl?

When supper is over and all are dismissed, he notices how Aegon corners their younger sister before retiring. Aegon has never been one for subtlety, thank the Seven Heavens. Aemond runs after her, afraid to leave her alone in the empty hallway leading to her chambers.

“Sister!” he calls, glad to see her grin when she turns and notices it is him.

“Brother.” she exhales, one hand over her heart. “You startled me.”

“Why? Did you think it was Aegon?”

She bites her lip, and it’s all the answer he gets.

“Has he been bothering you?”

Aeressa half laughs. “No, not BOTHERING… He’s just… a bit pushy.”

Aemond walks to her, stopping when he stands by her side. She tries to avert his gaze, but he picks her chin between his thumb and index to force the girl to look him in the eye. “Be truthful, Aeressa. What has he been pushing you to?”

“Gods, Aemond…” says her, eyes big as the moon set on his “He’s not a bad person, you know?” She places one of her dainty hands over his arm, perhaps trying to appeal to his emotions, but all Aemond can think is how close she is, how his breathing fans over her delicate face. She is so beautiful he almost forgives her for defending their brother. Such a precious gem.

“You don’t understand, Aeressa. You never do.” he shakes his head. “You only ever see the good in people.”

She frowns. “And you only ever see the bad.”

He wants to say more, scold her for her trustful nature, warn her of Aegon’s malice, but no words leave his mouth when the hand that wasn’t holding his arm reaches to cup his cheek. As if by instinct, he covers her hand with his. She is so close. So close. He can smell the oils she bathes in, and see the world of wonders living in the space between her parted lips. She is so close. He could close the distance, taste her if so he pleased.

Aemond forces himself awake from the fantasies, reminding himself of his place as her older brother.

“He whispered in your ears during supper. What did he say?”

His inquiry breaks the moment and Aeressa pulls away, repelled by the shock of reality. “I don’t know, he said so many things…” she says, almost musing, and begins to walk down the corridor again.

“Aeressa.” Aemond pulls her by the arm. “I’m not playing with you. What did Aegon say?”

She opens a grin, and at that moment he can’t read her in the least. His grip on her arm tightens. “What did Aegon say?” he repeats, more forcefully this time.

“He wants me to come to his chambers at night. He says we’ll play this fun game. Why is it so important?”

It is universally known how taken with his sister Aemond is. She’d been his little pet from a very young age, always following her older brother like a shadow, her twin by her side. When Daeron was sent away to fight, her attention had been solely Aemond’s, and he’d grown to cherish her company. Now, however, hearing those words coming from her mouth with a smile… He’d never been this compelled to hit her. Stupid girl. His grip on her arm tightens again, this time enough to earn a whimper from Aeressa.

“You’re hurting me, Aemond! What is going on?” she squeals, trying to free herself. She is so confused.

Of course, she is. She doesn’t understand the ways of men, she’s just a girl. She has no idea what kind of game Aegon plays - or plans on playing with her. Aemond lets go of her at last.

“You will not visit him tonight, do you hear me?”

“Why not? What if the game is fun?”

He grits his teeth, looking back at his sister’s bewildered expression. How can he explain the world to her? How can he keep her safe? He takes one hand to his hair, mind making work of his questions like a big machine with confusing and missing pieces. Aegon will not stop, even if Aemond himself keeps watch on her door. He’ll find a way, a secret passage, a time of the day when no one will be able to come aid. If there’s one thing he knows about his brother is how stubborn he can get when denied things he wants. And if there is another thing he knows about his brother is how great his appetite is, especially for maidens.

Aemond turns back to his sister, who watches him wearing the same confusion.

“So you want to play a game?”

“Embroidery gets very boring sometimes…” Aeressa tries to explain herself, gazing low on the ground, cradling the arm he squeezed.

Gods, she’s afraid of him… What now?

He sighs.

“Let us go to your chambers, I will play with you.”

She looks back up, childish delight mixed in with a slight distrust. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

She takes his hand and begins leading the way. The girl gets through the door and motions for him to follow, but he tells her to wait for a minute so he can tip the guard with enough gold to buy silence and one night in his sister’s bed.

It is the first time he’s entered Aeressa’s chambers in what seems like forever. It is covered in fresh flowers, the sweet scent filling the space between the four walls. The bed is grand as his own but wrapped in pink quilts and blankets. She sits on the edge of the mattress, swinging her legs a little.

“What game is it, brother?”

Aemond steps closer until he’s standing in front of her, looking down at her smiling face. If there is a time to stop, it is now. But if he stops… He knows Aegon won’t. Taking a deep breath, he cups her cheek much as she did to him in the hallway, face as stone. He loves her, he does, and because he loves her, there is no going back. This is his duty as a devoted brother. She can’t stay this naive forever.

“Have you ever played house?”

“Yes, of course! It was my favorite game with Daeron.” she says, innocent as ever.

“Do you want to play house with me?”

Aeressa laughs, that feminine, childish sound. “I think I’m a bit too old now… I haven’t played in ages.”

“Make an exception for today. I promise it’ll be fun.”

She looks away for a second but soon looks back at him with a smile. “If you promise.”

The prince takes another deep breath, trying to set it straight in his brain how this will go.

“This is the game: I am your husband, you are my wife, and this is our wedding night. Do you know what you are supposed to do?”

She hesitates for an instant. “Serve you…?”

“Yes. And how will you do that?”

“With a kiss?”

He feels himself smile at that, caressing the cheek he cups. “Very well. Have you ever been kissed before, Aeressa?”

“Only by Daeron when we played house last.”

Aemond has to hold back a flush of jealousy. All this time worrying about Aegon, it seems Daeron had gotten a headstart before leaving for the military. His caresses stop and he holds her face with both hands. He thinks of saying something, but now that he has Aeressa looking up at him with big lavender eyes, there are no words left. All he wants is to claim her rosy lips, and that’s what he does.

It is obvious she has little to no idea of what she's doing, which brings satisfaction to him. He tries to start chaste but soon finds himself tugging at her bottom lip, trying to get Aeressa to open her mouth for him to enter. When she finally gets the tip, his tongue slides in, and her hand flies to the arm that cradles her face, alarmed by the new sensation. It only amuses him more.

Startled by the intrusion, she opens her eyes wide and pulls back.

“Your tongue, it’s-”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Yes. That is what a real kiss is like. Do you not like it?"

A slight blood rush colors her cheeks. “It feels odd, but… It isn’t unpleasant.”

His thumb caresses her bottom lip, a starved look on his face. “Good. Try to match my pace, hm?”

Aeressa tries to pull back when he leans in, but she’s no match to the iron grip of the hands on her face. The prince kisses her again, this time stripping away all of the niceties he paid her at first, going straight for what he wants. His tongue laps at the inside of her mouth like fire licking at tapestries, spreading some weird warmth through her body. It might be the lack of oxygen, but she feels lightheaded, suddenly clinging to her brother like he, the arsonist, might save her from being burned alive.

She pulls away, struggling to breathe. The room is full of smoke. With her eyes now open, she can see the way Aemond gazes at her, and a tremble rushes through her body. His one eye is dark, veiled by a haze of something she doesn’t quite get. Desire? His hands pull her back for another kiss, searing, hot, all-consuming, and this time they don’t stay put on her face. Aeressa notices with confusion he is laying her down on the bed. Aemond can hardly hold back now, pulling her skirts up to grab at her legs.

“Aemond!” she yelps, sitting up. “You can’t lift a lady’s skirt!”

Yes, maybe he got a bit carried away… This is his sister, his beautiful, sweet, innocent sister. She must be so shaken by his actions. He stops and looks back at the youngest princess and her red cheeks. “Dear wife, it’s all part of the game.” he says, trying to sound confident and not as eager, his hands running up and down her thighs. “As your husband, I’m allowed to see you bare, understand?”

He descends from the bed to kneel on the ground, takes off her shoes and kisses her feet, then starts a trail of caresses that, when close to her thighs, are open-mouthed and fervent. His fingers grip her skin hard enough to leave marks - she doesn’t know it, but this is Aemond struggling to keep his composure. The room is filled with the smell of flowers and Aeressa’s labored breath. Without realizing it, her hands fly to his hair, and she’s pulling him back up for another kiss.

“Greedy, aren't you?” Aemond chuckles. He can’t help but give her what she wants, though, relishing in her grabby hands trying to pull him closer, impossibly closer. He kisses her ardently, kisses her, and kisses her, his own hands trying to pull her to him. How many nights did he spend awake, fisting his cock, fantasizing about her touch, her heaving breath, her tongue on his, on him… And now she is pulling at his hair, kissing him back as if her very life depends on it.

He pulls back, earning a frustrated sigh from Aeressa as she searches for his mouth again, but he holds her chin and makes her throw back her head. He begins another trail, this time from her lips to her cheek to her ear, where he nibbles at the lobe. “I’m going to make you mine tonight. Mine, no one else’s.” he growls, and, close as they are, he can feel the chill running through her back. “Am I clear?”

“Yes.” she breathes.

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He only wanted to hear her say his name, but the title might be even better. Grinning, he begins following south, down to her neck. “Little princess Aeressa seems to be quite sensitive...”, he thinks, drinking in the heavy breaths she takes when he kisses her neck. Against his better judgment, Aemond sucks in a hickey or two and leaves a bite that makes him want to leave a hundred, hearing the whimper she lets out at the first. He is hypnotized by how her chest rises with each breath, barely contained by the bodice of her dress.

With greedy hands, he tugs at the strings that hold her gown together. Impatient to have his attention solely on her again, Aeressa helps, and soon the fabric is loose around her. “Are you… Are you sure this is right?” asks her, holding the front of her bodice to not let her breasts spill. She wanted him back on her, but now that it is time to be seen naked, she is too timid to let go of the gown.

“Yes, this is right. I have never been so sure.” is what he thinks, wanting nothing more than to free her of this godforsaken dress and feel her skin on his. As to not startle her, though, he forces himself to hide the feverishness and smile calmly. “Do you feel wrong, my sweet?”

“...No.”

“Then how could it be anything but right?”

Hesitantly, she lets go of the bodice, letting it fall on her lap, her round breasts now on display for only him to gaze at. Aemond thinks they’re just the perfect size, custom-made to fit inside the palm of his calloused hands. “Good girl.” he praises and kisses her again. Aeressa arches her back in his embrace, entranced by his words, drinking them in. “Good girl.” he repeats. His hands travel along her torso, feeling her up, squeezing, pinching, and scratching. He lays her down again and tentatively pushes up the fabric of her dress, half expecting his sister to stop him again, but this time all she does is lace her arms through his neck to keep him closer, pressing her chest to his.

With her beneath him, whimpering so softly, Aemond feels like he might be in one of the Seven Heavens, or perhaps all seven at once. His hand snakes down between her thighs, and he can’t stop a groan from escaping feeling how slick she is. He wants nothing but to fuck her hard, have her scream his name so loud Aegon won’t be able to miss it… But she is his sister, not some common whore, and he owes her love and respect. This is all for her, after all. His finger circles the entrance of her cunt, the heel of his palm pressing down on her clit

The feeling bubbling down at the pit of Aeressa’s stomach is so foreign, strong enough to make her tremble inside her prince’s embrace. Her mouth is on his like he is the air she breathes, only pulling away at the feeling of intrusion when he inserts a finger inside her.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asks, hovering above her, his long white hair falling over her face. His finger pumps in and out of her with ease. As if to punctuate his question, he rubs the heel of his hand on her pearl, earning a sharp mewl from the girl.

She grabs at his shoulders, trying to still herself, eyes shut tight as if not being able to see her brother’s expression will somehow stop him from staring this intently at her. At this point, the princess is a blushing mess, her chest and neck covered in hickeys and bites, hair falling disheveled around her like a fallen angel’s halo.

“Well?” he presses on, now making hither motions that squeeze more sounds out of her. “I’ll stop if you can’t answer.”

Aeressa is often told she is too kind for her own good, always ready to see the good over the bad. At this moment, however, she is sure her brother must be some kind of demon, the only possible explanation for how he toys with her body and mind, so obviously enjoying the shame in her features. “...Yes”

He grins, wicked, and leans in to kiss her. Aemond swallows the cry she lets out when he surprises her with a second finger. “Good girl. Thank you for your honesty.” says the man, in a tone that asks “wasn't so hard, was it?”. Her body is on fire and he’s watching like it is something amazing. Because it is; because he’s completely entranced.

Her heavy breathing and moans fill the room, mixed with one or two sloppy sounds coming from her wet cunt. The symphony is shameful and burns in her ears. Aemond wishes he had the kind of self-control to let her come undone on his fingers, maybe on his mouth later on, but, suckling on her right breast as he masturbates her, he fears this might be too much for him to take. He is so hard it hurts, his trousers now the cruelest prison.

His sister whimpers loudly, unsatisfied, and frustrated when he pulls his fingers out of her. In the candlelight, his hand glistens with her wet. “What? Why did you stop?” Aeressa whines, lying under him with uneven breathing. The one-eyed prince licks one long stripe on his hand, too taken with the flavor to dignify her question with an answer. She tastes sinful, devilish, the forbidden fruit untouched.

“Open wide.”

“What?” she asks. He can’t possibly mean…

“Do as I say.”

Obedient as she’d always been, she parts her lips and allows her brother to stuff his fingers on her mouth. She can feel herself on his digits, the humiliation bringing the heat in the pit of her stomach to bubble like a witch’s brew.

“Good girl. Such a good girl…” Aemond smirks and kisses her once more, the taste dancing on both their tongues. Aeressa figures he would go back to his ministrations and spreads her legs just a bit wider, waiting for his hand to dip in between them again, but it never does. He pulls back and leaves the bed, standing in front of her confused form now. Why did he stop? She didn’t want him to stop.

Her eyes follow his every move as he begins undressing, making quick work of his clothes. He has a lean, athletic body with marked V bones on his hips, which lead the girl’s gaze to the cock that is proudly erect in front of her. She hadn’t seen one since she was a kid and the servants bathed her with Daeron. His certainly didn’t look like that.

“You’re staring, wife.” chuckles Aemond, subtly reminding her of the game they played. The hand that played with her moved to stroke his manhood, jerking it a few times if only to put on a good show for her.

“I…” Aeressa starts but is unable to finish.

He is amused by her innocent yet curious demeanor. Flawless… Legs spread for him, dress pooled at her waist, breasts out just for him to ogle at. She half sits up, supported by her elbows on the bed, waiting with the most perfect expression for him to do with her as he pleases.

“Now, this might hurt a bit, but I need you to be brave. I promise it'll feel good once the pain dulls.” says Aemond, climbing on top of her again. She lets him, even if in her face she wears some shade of apprehension at the mention of pain.

Kissing her mouth as a distraction tactic, he begins aligning himself with her center and pushes in slowly. It is too late now. Too late. Tears sting on the corners of Aeressa's eyes, which she closes tightly shut, her face contorts itself into a pained grimace, and he can hear a whimper from her, but it's well past the point of stopping. He is inside her, trying to force himself further, squeezed by her insides. She is tight and hot and it might just be too much. He presses his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching, their breaths mixing as the two try to keep their composure.

Beneath him, Aemond can tell his sister is crying. Is he being too rough? He could swear… He is trying so hard to be good for her, to go slow.

“Brother?” she asks, grabbing at his arm like he might keep her afloat.

“What is it, my love?”

“When will it start to feel good?”

The prince can't help but smile at her words. She is trying to be brave for him, just like he's trying to be good for her. So adorable it hurts. With tenderness, he kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her cheeks, and, finally, her mouth. “Soon, my sweet. Very soon.” She looks up at him through wet eyelashes like she so badly wants to believe his words. “You are doing so well, baby. You're such a good girl for me.”

He moves inside her, slow like he believes that maybe if he goes slow enough, she might not feel the pain of the stretch or the breaking of her hymen. A cry from the girl proves his hopes wrong, and he attempts at remedying it by cooing sweetly at her.

“No, don't cry… You're a big girl, aren't you? You've been doing so good!” says the man, cupping her cheek and caressing her face.

“It hurts, brother!”

“I know, I know…” He kisses her teary eyes, salt on his lips. “But you can take it. I know you can. Look—” he nods towards where they are joined, her pussy having swallowed all of him. “You did it. You're such a good girl, such a sweet baby… Such a perfect cocksleeve.”

She looks up at him with violet orbs big as the moon. She didn't think she could do it, but she did it! Isn't it amazing? “And you're proud of me, sir?”

He smiles. “So proud.”

Aeressa laces one arm through his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. She kisses him, sweetly, so adoringly, and only pulls back to wince when he starts moving again.

He stops immediately and asks, worried as a dutiful brother “Do you need more time to adjust? Is this okay, sister?”

She bites her lower lip so strongly she might draw blood, but nods. “Yes… Yes, it's alright. Please, move.”

So he does. Slow, excruciatingly slow. It takes all of his self-control to keep himself from ramming into her. Everything about how she feels around him is perfect, and he just wants to make the most of the sensation. But he loves her, he has to remember that - that she is to be loved, not fucked. Slowly, very slowly, he goes in and out of her, one eye studying her every squirm, examining the signs her body gives. Slowly, her whimpers give way to soft moans, and, with patience and shows of affection, Aemond is capable of extracting from the young princess encouragement to move faster. So he does.

Aeressa is squirming under him, large breasts bouncing softly with the movement. She pinches her nipples, runs her nails through her white skin, and does as he had done before, chasing after the heat the actions spark in her belly. It feels so different, to be full, but the more the pain subdues, the more she enjoys it, and begins to dread the moment her brother bottoms out of her, leaving her empty. Thankfully, it's only for a short moment before he fills her again. "Faster, please!" asks her, guided by an instinct that says a quicker pace would be more pleasant.

Aemond is enthralled by the vision before him, one he only dared dream of. She is angelical, perfect, pierced by him, belonging only to one man now and forever. He smirks and leans forward to suck in a hickey on the pale pulse point of her neck, hips snapping against hers. Every bruise he leaves on her body is a work of art and a show of passion, a sign of ownership he will not let Aegon question. King-to-be or not, he lost this match, and with this victory under his belt, the younger prince finds that he does not mind losing the war all that much. He kisses his sister’s mouth with a pure mix of love and lust. “It feels so good! I might go insane!” the girl whimpers against his lips, prompting his hips to go harder.

“You’re doing amazing, Aeressa.” he smiles at her, sole eye taking in the beauty of her reactions, the perfect ‘O’ of her lips, the hitch of her breath. Aemond finds that she likes it fast, but it is when he goes hard that she gasps and cries out his name. “Such a perfect little bitch.” He cups her cheek with one hand, the other next to her head, holding his weight on top of her. He keeps praising her, locking onto her amethyst eyes, knowing it to be the way to her heart. “Such a good girl for me. The best hole in the Realm.”

She can feel it, how every word has her clenching around him, how every thrust gets the band in her belly to stretch further, closer to snapping. The princess is completely lost in the feeling, cockdrunk. Her brother searches for her, but there are no thoughts behind her pupils, only a thirst for release. Aeressa is vocal in bed, loud, and forgotten of consequences. She cries multiple “sir!”s and “brother!”s, gripping hard at her partner’s forearms. He can only chuckle at how gone she is, and give her his thumb to suck on.

Without waiting for more encouragement, Aemond sets a pace that is passionate and quick, almost wild, and has his sister screaming to the Seven Winds. He can’t deny he’s getting close. Gods, he’s getting close. Decided to extract one orgasm from the princess before giving in to his own, he retracts the hand that cupped her face to have it play with her clit, the spit-covered thumb slick as it circles her button. It earns a loud moan from the girl under him.

“Good girl, such a good girl!” he groans, hips snapping.

Her walls clench around his cock. He can’t help but imagine her womb thirsty, ready to receive all of him.

“Aemond, I-” the princess gasps.

“It’s alright, let it go. Let it go for me.” His thumb speeds up on her clit. She flutters, legs shaking, chest heaving, and the coil deep in her stomach snaps in fevering euphoria. Aeressa reaches up to press her brother’s lips to hers, the kiss marked by gasps and delirious moaning.

The prince bottoms in and out her with passion, now chasing only his high, which approaches at rapid speed. With a grunt, he cums inside his little sister, whole body clenching. He fucks her shallowly through his orgasm, pushing his seed deeper.

Both out of breath and absolutely spent, the siblings eye each other. Aemond’s senses return, making him wonder “what the actual fuck.” as he pushes out of her and lays down by her side. Before he can linger on the guilt of ruining the princess, she curls up on his chest, sweat sticking their bodies together. He wraps an arm around her and tucks his chin on the top of her head.

“Was that good, husband?”

He can’t lie to her, or to himself. “That was fucking amazing.”

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