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venmondiese · 1 month ago

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DRAGON COINS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over. (based on this request)

✧pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Bastard!Female Reader.

✧word count: 4.1k

✧warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, targcest, oral (m) receiving, brat taming, very slight almost unnoticeable implied aegond AND (not so subtle) that reader is aegon's bastard, aemond is a dilf.. hehe, they are both insane.

You were the prettiest woman at the brothel; most men always repeated that to you. And for a fact, you knew it very well.

You loved dancing; always have. You used to imagine yourself as a royal princess at balls and court events, who wore the prettiest dresses and the most extravagant headpieces, full of veils, patterns, and many details of gold, purple. You imagined, as well, that you would have a nicer figure, full of food, and expensive things, like caviar, and have meat all day.

Yet you were not a princess. You didn’t dress in purple, didn't have anything gold, you never attended a ball or court. You just looked the part; with bright violet eyes, silver hair and that Targaryen’s appearance that called the attention.

Your mother told you that your father was a prince; she never said more. You always thought who it could be. Daemon? He was away at that time. Laenor? The rumours of his liking of men didn’t help. Aegon? He was barely of age by the time you were conceived.

If it was a lie, or a truth, you did not know; you only knew that everyone was enchanted by your appearance; your bright eyes, that your mother often compared them to one of a doe; your lips, always pink without the need of any makeup. You were a natural, born to shine among the common people.

Inevitably, you ended up in a brothel. As a dancer, with exotic clothes from Lys, and some large feather fan for your dances, and you learned how to do your hairstyles the same way Lyseni girls did, since they were the best of the best.

You were the best of the best. You made sure of it. You had something special, the looks, and the wits. Just not the money nor position for it.

Most of the time, the Brothel opens at the ninth bell rang of the day, when the sun starts falling down, and people come home from their work, and just some time after men get paid for their daily works.

It was the eighth toll of the bell when you were helping one of the new girls out. She had auburn hair, and almost as long as yours; and you were helping her do a crown of braids. You heard the consistent knock on the door, and you frowned for a bit, as you walked towards the door.

It was a hooded figure, tall, and looking around as if he was followed. You frown a bit, watching his shoes; you could tell a lot from a man's shoes. This one wore boots, black and slightly muddy. He also smelt strong, like fire, somehow. Oddly enough, he didn’t speak when he moved his eye to watch you silently.

“We are not open.” you say to him, holding the door close, just so half of your body could be seen. “Wait for the next bell toll”

“Call your Madame” He says, abruptly, rude as men used to be; never lacking that audacity that their demands have.

“The brothel opens-”

“I heard you fine the first time” he repeats, as if he didn’t have the time “Call your Madame” he says, throwing a bag full of coins as if nothing, as if he wanted to buy your silence.

You frowned as you knelt to grab the bag, and from that angle you could see the small silver hairs that he intended to hide in that hood, and the eye patch, covering his left eye as the other one, with a deep purple tone watched you intently. You could see the small dragon patterns on his clothes, and how even his cloak had gold details, with little dragons.

It was prince Aemond. You have never seen him up close before, perhaps you had seen Vhagar around the skies from time to time. You heard that he takes his sons to fly often. Just as his grandsire, he had been left a widow with two sons. Not that he shared a love for his late wife, and he did not care to seek another bride.

Yet, prideful as you were, made a face and turned around, opening the door for him as you guided him towards the personal room of the Madame. Although, it seems as if he knew the place since quite some time.

You watch intently at the prince, who the Madame compliments as older. You suppose he looks older, you didn’t quite remember how old prince Aemond truly is. You remember the celebrations for his five and twenty name day, but you couldn’t quite recall how many years ago that was.

“Should I fetch something, Madame?” You ask simply to Madame Sylvi, who sits in the middle of the bed, and yet prince Aemond doesn’t mind your presence as he starts undressing, taking his cloak off, followed by his eye patch.

He has no shame, truly. You watch how he takes off that leather jerkin, embroidered with dragon details made of gold, as if gold didn’t have a better use than to be embroidered on a prince’s clothes that he probably uses once or twice before asking the tailor for other clothes.

“No, do not worry. You tell Daisy that she is in charge tonight”

Interesting. You think, as the prince takes off his breeches, and you turn around to close the curtains, leaving your Madame to take care of the prince. And yet, you took an unshameful glimpse of his ass, smiling as you walked to finish the braids for your friend.

And that routine continued for quite a while, you now noticed when prince Aemond arrived at the brothel, sometime before it opened, sometimes near the end of the night. Sometimes he came day after day, and others it was weeks apart.

You danced the most on busy days, and you refused to dance when you did not want to. You were as spoiled as a little princess, which gained you some popularity among the workers and the clients. Some of them called you a ‘little princess’ and others a ‘spoiled cunt’, and yet you didn’t mind because you knew you could be both.

It was probably one of your new dances, with a bold sound of the lute as you moved the expensive fan around, as if teasing the audience with more peeks of your body. This was a busy day, and so, a lot of men were gathered around watching whatever lewd display it was shown on the occasion.

A jousting was held by the Royal Family, and so a lot of lords and knights came to the city, which means that the street of Silk was at its full capacity, and every man looking for a woman to fuck. And you also knew that most squires that wanted to be knights came here to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before a joust.

Yet, you don’t miss the one purple eye that watches you intently, still hiding before one of his expensive cloaks with dragon designs. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, at all. Perhaps he could be several years older, yet you know better than him. He could read books, but you have to survive day to day.

Your long hair was braided in a Valyrian-Lyseni way, as you wore some gold detailed hair rings as you asked for them especially for tonight. Men had an appetite for women with that Valyrian looks, and you were an especially fine one.

With every turn of your hips, you saw the expectancy of his eye, in the back of the crowd yet in the middle and not missing a thing. Prince Aemond was an especially eager one, instead of screaming and cheering at the swift movement of your body, he just remained quiet.

He was observant, he was ambitious, and you were the best.

You weren’t surprised when he made a signal for one of the girls serving the ale, and whispered something in her ear. And you weren’t surprised either when the same girl was waiting for you at the edge of the platform where you performed.

He wanted you.

And gods damned you if you didn’t want him. Because even with the whispers and rumours about prince Aemond, he was still one of the most divine Targaryen on earth. He might be older than you, but that never stopped you, at all. And with a chance like this?

“He is a very exclusive client” Madame Sylvi says, as if instructing you as she walks you through the brothel “Likes very exclusive things, all of them you will please. If he wants to talk, you hear. You will touch him if he asks you, and you’ll do anything he wants. He usually gives you orders; how to be, what to do, what to say. You’ll do that- He likes having things in control and preparing for it. And something else; he doesn’t kiss” She says slightly annoyed. “A rule of his. He doesn’t like it. Not then, not now”

You walk, not at all bothered by that rule. You shrug, and take notes, but something in your gut tells you it will be different, somehow.

“I have been told you wanted me, my prince” you say softly, as you enter the exclusive room that Aemond was in.

He looked at you; a hum left his lips without entertaining more in the conversation. He looked at you, as if thinking for a while. His shirt was undone, and his boots were still on, as his pants were a bit messy. .

“Wine?” You ask walking toward the small cabinet with cups and some of the best ale and wine. Particular rooms were for expensive clients, those who paid stags… sometimes you could get a bag with some coins with the face of King Jaehaerys.

“No” he says simply.

You shrug, the small jewellery tinkling as you walk, serving the wine for you to drink. If he didn’t need one, that’s okay. But you needed a small sip for courage, for your hips to lose up a little bit.

“Are you Lyseni?” Aemond asks, his cold and stoic tone not changing. Most of the time, you’d say yes, to please the men like him that knew that Lyseni girls were the best whores. But you think prince Aemond asks for other reasons.

“No”

“A bastard, then”

You watch him through your eyelashes. Was he more interested in your services or your blood? You were sure that both could please him very much.

“Yes.”

He hums, as if the thought interests him very much. You are aware of the bulge on his pants, by the way his legs are apart and he is leaning back, very much interested in you.

“Care for a dance, my prince?” You ask, taking in your hand the fans, walking closer to him. “I’ve been told I am the best. I don‘t think you deserve anything but”

It’s the small nod he gives that encourages you to move your hips, with no music but the one in your head. Years and years of dancing, you know the thrill by now.

Translucent fabric from Essos, gives nothing to imagination, and it serves to give a more lustful touch to your body. It pushes your breasts up in the right way, and you can see the one eye of the prince roaming in your figure.

As you leave the fans, walking closer to him, he then asks again.

“You are Waters, then. A bastard from my father?”

“Nuh-uh” you murmur, your hands going to his breeches, undoing them.

“My uncle”

“No”

“Hm” he hums, looking at how his pants are undone, and his cock is rock hard, resting against his low abdomen, as if demanding attention from you.

There was something about Targaryens that was so divine.

“My brother, then?”

You smirk, raising your eyebrows as if the mere question amuses you.

“I think you might know…” you murmur, watching him closely. Maybe he was old to keep up with your games, and less eager than most men who you attended to; with no problems in engaging with your games.

Prince Aemond was a mature man, who had real duties to attend, and more concerns rather than which whore will he fuck today. And that aroused you. How little he seems to care about you, playing hard to get. It made you eager, and you realised that you were falling for his games instead.

“That makes you...” he murmurs, watching your lips.

Targaryen. Valyrian. Dragon bound. His niece. All of those words he could say. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, words lingering in the air.

You raise your eyebrows, and a slight smirk appears on your lips.

“Mhm. I might just be, my prince”

Your hand drew slow patterns on his cock, stroking it softly as you two engaged on this odd talk.

“Or you might not be”

“Or I might not be”

He watched your eyes intently; purple meeting purple. This man was calculating, and you could see it in his face.

“That’s the thrill of it, I’d say”

“You have his face” he murmurs, his thumb moving to touch your lips faintly.

“So I have been told.”

He agrees with your statement as his hands move to take off the translucent fabric of your dress. You had many men touching you… but never the way that Aemond Targaryen did. His hands felt warm on your skin, and his touch felt right.

Aemond was an experienced man, and you noticed. He doesn't waste time fooling around, as the Madame told you. You were off your clothes in no time, as he had you right in his lap, comfortably.

“What do you want me to do, my prince?” You ask, softly.

He seems to think of an answer before saying. “Do your very best. Surprise me, if you can”

His hands slide down to the swell of your hips, firm grip as he watches your face; almost amazed, and by how he pulls your body closer to his chest, he was aroused too.

Your hands go towards his shoulders, as you use that to hold as you grind against his own cock. The fabric from his open pants tickled your thighs as you straddled his lap, and yet that was the last of your worries. You were so horny, unlike many times, you were dripping wet for this man.

Lewd moans spilled from your lips, one of your hands moving to cup his face, feeling the heavy breathing that came from his mouth. He was an intense one, his single eye never left your gaze; and you weren’t one to lose a challenge.

“I think you are a spoiled thing” His tone is breathy, as he squeezes the flesh on your hips to force your cunt to grind against his cock, greedy as a dragon.

“Been told so” your voice is more agitated, and you lean forward as if to kiss him, just to push your luck, and he moves his head slightly back. You giggle, trying to suppress a moan at his growl.

“You little...” he says, yet a smirk appears on his lips due to the provocation.

“Hm?” You ask almost innocently. “Didn’t do anything…”

“Spoiled whore” he says, with his chin and lips moving closer to yours, and you nod. “Proud of that?”

“I don’t hide anything, my prince”

Aemond’s hands move upwards to your waist, and it takes him no real effort to turn you over on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as your back hits the mattress, gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, as you move some of your hair out of your face.

“I wanted to suck your cock” you say, using your elbows to get some height as he moves his hands to pull down his pants.

“And I want to fuck you” he says as if he was the one in the right, and it was obvious he lived to dominate.

“And I want to suck your cock” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I am the one paying” he reminds you. Not upset, but more amusedly annoyed at your brattiness. It amused him greatly, to see a thing like you defy him.

“Yes. And you said for me to surprise you, so I think I get the right to decide”

He has a smirk, yet his eye showed how amazed (and annoyed) he was.

“Brat” he spits the word, as he moves your legs apart further.

You feel his dick slide against your slit, yet he only does to tease you, and to arouse himself more. You moan, feeling as if you could cum just by him doing that. What was this man doing to you?

“You are unfair”

“Want to suck my cock? Fine, you’ll suck my fucking cock” He says, taking you by the shoulder, moving you to sit back up, and pushing you over the edge to the bed. “Go on.” He says patronisingly. Manhandling you to every whim he might have. “Fucking slut, come on, suck my cock”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were all over his dick, sucking every part you can of it. Seeing him over you, his hair loose as he was hard as a rock, and his hand grabbed your silvery hair, taking it into his hand with wonder. He was into it.

Your purple eyes look up to him, your lips around his cock as your obscene sounds delight his arousal. He groans as he pulls your hair, forcing you to take more and more of him.

Your hand caresses his balls softly, as if trying to caress every part of him. He was truly divine, and you knew something; you two were of the very same blood. And Aemond knew that too. Not that it stopped you, truly.

“Enough” He commands, forcing you to be up. You were about to protest, you were barely beginning! “Stop whining, bratty princess” It is now that he pulls you towards his lap, in a hurry that could only be interpreted as desperation and hunger.

Princess. Coming from a royal’s mouth. Coming from what you think is your own blood. The sound that leaves your mouth isn’t fake, as you used to do when other clients complimented you. That one, and all the rest, was real. Just for him.

The feeling of his cock entering inside you was truly like no other, you felt just like a court maiden, touched for the very first time, your hands gripping on his shoulders as he grabbed you by your thighs, making you to go down onto his cock, and the feeling of your pussy engulfing him whole, greedily… drove Aemond mad.

“Fuck” he mutter against your lips, almost groaning. “Fuck, just like... Fuck…”

As if the smugness from your eyes went away, your big eyes scan his face, as if searching for anything. “Fuck me”

“I am fucking you” Aemond murmurs, his tone tense.

“P-Please” You beg, pathetically, needing the feeling of his dick pounding hard and with no mercy against you “Fuck me, please, f-fuck me”

Your plea serves him enough, he leans back on the pillows just a bit, making it easy for you to have a better hold of him, and rest on his chest, as he took your hips and forced you to take his cock, fucking you on it. It drove you mad.

Your first try to grip his shoulders, as your loud and lewd sounds fill the room, but it seems useless, your hands slipping off his shoulders, as your cunt squeezes his cock. You were desperate, your forehead pressed against his chest as your mouth was open, as if you could not have any control over your body, a little thread of drool coming out of your mouth.

“Fuck me, please, please”

“Greedy princess, hm?” Aemond sounds smug, as he spanks your ass hard. The slap sound resonates in the room, along with the wet sounds and more sounds of your skin against his.

“Yes, I am such… a needy girl”

“Always have been” he murmurs, picking up a pace as his hips start to meet your thrusts. You realised then, that it was affecting him as bad as you. Perhaps the pleasure was blinding you, but his tone was tense, his grip stronger and he was more demanding of you. He was solving it; and that only fuelled the fire.

“Yes. Please…” You murmurs, and as bold as you are, you murmur “Uncle, please”

That sends him over the edge of madness. His pace is relentlessly, and his mouth only lets out groans and guttural sounds, as he insists on pounding hard on you, his hands on your ass as he pulls your hips down, his cock filling you in the most exquisite way, as his balls hit your skin from the force of impact.

He slaps you when you move your head to see him, eyes full of need and pleasure. He seems to get off on it; and you won’t deny him anything. You know it. And you do love when he takes his frustration out on you, it is even better than the composed version of himself, stoic, cold and uncaring that he presented first. The unhinged version is... So much better.

“You will cum in my cock” He orders you, his low tone is a proof of his desperation about it “You’ll be a good little princess...” He grabs your platinum hair to make your head go up, your face closer to his. “And you’ll cum on my cock.” He says against your lips.

You kind of don’t care about the ‘rule’ he has, because as soon as you feel the hot breath of his hit your lips, you lean slightly to kiss him, even if the grip on your hair makes it painful. And to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

There is lewdness as his cock opens your cunt, sloppy sounds and moans that spilled from your mouth over and over again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut due to the pleasure, focusing only on the feeling of him.

Your cunt felt on fire, you could only imagine how it felt around him, but you are getting so overwhelmed with pleasure that your right hand grip on his shoulder hard. You take the reins of your pleasure, moving your hips up and down, trying to get every grasp of pleasure.

The position not only makes you shake with mind blowing pleasure, but also presents all of your tits on Aemond’s face, jumping in front of him as his dick hits the deepest part of you.

“Fuck, princess” he mutters, another harsh spank on your ass that makes your moan loudly.

He had the girth that you needed to feel full. He made you feel more than that, you felt alive. Truly alive. The head of his manhood hitting repeatedly all of the right parts, making you moan, his hand gripping on your ass as he also felt the same pleasure.

“I’m going to cum inside you, princess” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to cum on his cock.

You shake as your orgasm hits you, your thighs feel mire forced to be open, and your cunt craves to feel his cum flooding your insides, filling you with his seed. You craved it so bad; it had you moaning more and more.

Aemond uses your body, still shaking and limper to fuck you, his cock full of your juices as he groans, throwing his head back as he mutters some words in high Valyrian, cumming hard in your welcoming pussy.

“Iksā sepār hae zirȳla. Hylagon hae zirȳla. Aōha kepa se kesā sagon ñuha morghon. JēDar hen iksā ñuhon” Aemond groans his grip firm as he makes sure not a drop of his cum gets out of your pussy.

As you catch your breath, you feel a bit limp on Aemond’s chest. He was sweaty, so were you. And you were tired, feeling the bruises of his marks on your delicate skin. You feel his seed coming out of your cunt, and that makes you whimper.

“You are beautiful” He murmurs, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it on your mouth, playfully, sucking it just a bit to tease him. Aemond hums, very pleased. “Just like your father”

As he extends his arm, he takes the bad of coins, and takes some of them into his hand, showing the gold to you.

“Full of it, just for you.” Prince Aemond murmurs, his hand caressing your lower back. “But you have to be just mine” he warns, possessive just like a man from his position is.

You sigh, taking one of the coins with your fingers and inspectionating it. A bag full of dragon coins. You could see the face of Jaehaerys I, and turning it around is the profile of a dragon.

“No men. No flirting. No whoring around” he says, whispering in your ear. “Just mine. Could you do that, princess?”

If you could do that? You don’t mind whoring around, you didn’t hide being hedonistic. Be his? Not hard. But be a princess? Could you do that?

“Of course I will, my prince.”

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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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gemini | S.R.

two emotionally wrought people collide at a wedding, and a sexual escapade ensues.

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, use of the term "good girl" (i couldn't help myself), unprotected sex, reader on bc, alcohol, spoilers for 14x15 truth or dare, lowkey idiots in love, fucking against a wall?, fingering, heavy petting, r has an oral fixation, r is wearing a dress and makeup, explicit consent (hot), public sex, i think that's all word count: 3.42k a/n: this is a little self-indulgent and i don't care! based on literally just the first line of the song gemini by del water gap. probably not ever gonna get a part two. i've never done angsty smut (smangst?) before, so this was fun.

so, here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding

Swirling the drink you held in your hand, you watched your friends as they chatted. The pink liquid in the cup, concocted by Penelope Garcia, was far too sweet for your taste, but you needed the liquid courage to make it through the wedding.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for Krystall and Dave. It was that weddings oftentimes left a bitter taste in your mouth – one so bitter that not even Penelope’s drink could offset it.

In your periphery, you saw a blur of purple in the corner, looking up to see Spencer. His hand still bandaged from his most recent brush with death, he used his free one to grip a glass of water. Raising your eyebrows, you gave him your best attempt at a smile before you greeted him, “You look good, Dr. Reid.”

He was fully donned in his favorite color, and you tried to pretend that you didn’t notice that your dress matched the purple hue of his suit. “Thanks,” he said shortly, not quite meeting your eyes.

Noting the way he was looking past you, you demurely leaned your head down, glancing over your shoulder so that you could see what he was looking at, only to see JJ. She looked gorgeous in her red dress, laughing at something her husband said before her eyes caught something.

She was staring back at Spencer, and not for the first time, you found yourself wondering what happened in that pawn shop. Bringing your eyes back up to Reid, you watched the confused look in his eyes bloom as he peeled his eyes away from JJ.

Sick of it, you spoke up, “Alright, I had dibs on being the mopey one tonight. What’s wrong?” You had wanted to brush it off as long-lasting nerves from the hostage situation, but he was acting strange.

You knew you weren’t his best friend, that was a title that JJ had been the reigning champion of since the beginning of time. Yet, you still noticed the rigidity in Spencer’s shoulders as he displayed a clear discomfort with his surroundings. You tried to think of something to say to him. How could you ask him if he wanted to get out of here without it sounding like a sexual proposition?

“JJ told me she loved me,” he said, his voice so low you weren’t even sure you had heard him correctly.

Your head snapped up, “Oh.” Swallowing thickly, you tilted your head curiously, letting loose hair tumble to the side. “Do you love her?” Likely not the right conversation for the wedding of everyone’s favorite right-person-wrong-time couple, but you were desperate for a rope to pull yourself out of your wallowing.

He took a sip of his water before setting the empty glass on the bar counter, “I did.” The admission hit you like a ton of bricks, until her continued, “but now…”

Filling in the blanks, you shrugged, “She’s married. They have kids.” Spencer was always doing the right thing, so pushing his feelings aside for the sake of JJ’s family made the most sense.

Furrowing his brows, he pondered this for a moment before speaking, “It’s not just that. I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh,” you repeated, and somehow the thought of him being in love with an unfamiliar figure hurt more than him being in love with your mutual friend.

The both of you let the conversation lag, watching as Penelope came back up to the bar and poured more drinks. After she accused you of being boring for not wanting another drink, everyone returned to the tables. “Have you dated anyone since him?”

You choked on your newly acquired water, cupping your hand underneath your jaw in an attempt to stop water from getting on your dress. “Uh, no. I’ve kind of sworn off dating ever since,” you replied, shaking your hand out and letting water droplets fall to the floor.

Sighing, you slouched in your seat, remembering that all you’d ever be was a jaded bride. Left by your fiancé on the day of your wedding, doomed to never love again. Until you met Spencer Reid.

“For everyone?” Spencer asked, and you cursed his natural curiosity.

His question caught you off guard. Despite yourself, you shook your head, “I have like… one person who, if they asked me, I’d say yes.” Your skin started to feel warm, and you weren’t sure if it was your proximity to him or Penelope’s drink coming back with a vengeance.

Spencer stepped a little closer to you, leaning casually on the counter as if he wasn’t affecting your ability to focus. “Who’s your person?” The question was innocent enough that it made your heart ache.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s into someone else,” you told him, reaching behind your neck to pull your hair up, haphazardly twisting it. You didn’t have a hair tie, so you let the locks fall once you felt some semblance of relief.

This statement seemingly bothered Spencer because he looked into his glass, “Did he tell you that?”

Nodding, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “Yeah,” maybe not in so many words, Spencer was rarely crass enough to say he was into someone, but you understood well enough.

The conversation lagged between the two of you once again, your own private thoughts were only interrupted when the music changed. It was a slow song, one for the couples of the night to dance to.

You took a chance, “Do you want to go explore the building with me? It’s getting stuffy in here,” you said, taking one final swig of your water before jumping up from your stool.

He looked back at JJ, who was there with Will, and then forward to the girl who was asking to take him away, “Yes.”

David Rossi had spared no expense for his second wedding to his third wife, and the manor that you found yourself meandering within felt never-ending. Something about following Spencer as he led the way and told you facts about the history of the building felt so normal, and you wondered if it would hurt when the night was over. Maybe this would just end as another memory to loathe about weddings.

Trailing him into another room, you stumbled into his back. Quickly, Spencer spun back and caught you before you could fall to the ground.

Steadying yourself, your heart thrummed at the way he was touching you, tightly holding your waist so that you wouldn’t trip. Once you were no longer wobbling, Spencer reached up and gingerly lifted the fallen spaghetti strap of your dress back over your shoulder. Before you had fully thought out your actions, you leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him.

It was hesitant and gentle, but once you registered that you were kissing him you soon realized that he was kissing you back. What started out as a small peck on the lips quickly morphed into full, open-mouthed kisses.

You thought Spencer might eat you alive, and for a moment, you thought you might let him.

Without separating your lips, he herded you over to the wall, pinning your hips to the wall as you felt heat grow between your legs.

Pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, Spencer pulled away ever so slightly, your faces just inches apart. “Is this okay?” He asked you, his eyes flickering down to your lips like he was holding himself back from kissing you again.

There was fear. A fear that if you moved forward tonight, nothing would ever be the same, but you took a chance and nodded quickly, “Yes.”

Your answer acted as a release as Spencer dropped his head back down and the two of you reattached your lips. Despite your attempts to ignore it, you felt his hardened length pressing into you through several layers of clothes.

Twisting your head away, you gasped as Spencer took the opportunity to place his lips on your neck, gently suckling on the tender skin as you tried to catch your breath. “Are you sure about this?” You breathed, running your hands underneath his suit jacket, wanting nothing more than to push it off of him.

“Yes,” he answered, giving you the same consent that you had already given him, and it was enough for you to reach for his belt buckle. No matter how badly you wanted to see him entirely bare in front of you, this just wasn’t the place for it.

Gently, you slid your hand down his front, savoring the way his breath hitched against your neck as your fingertips precariously lifted the waistband of his boxers. He gently nipped at your earlobe as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock.

You let your head fall backward, allowing him better access to your neck as you moved your hand. Moving your hand up so that you could swipe your thumb over the tip.

You dragged your other hand down, pulling his boxers down so that you could get a good look at what you were working with, and biting your lip at the sight of it. Slowly, you started to pump his impressive length, noting how his breathing patterns changed with your movements.

Dragging a knuckle up the underside of him, he dropped his head to your shoulder as you collected his pre-cum on your index finger on your way up, bringing your hand up to your mouth and licking the droplet off, peering up at him.

“You’re so good at that, baby,” he told you, sighing as he reached up and placed his hand on the side of your neck, skimming his thumb over your jawline as his free hand started to make its way up your dress, pausing when he only met bare skin. “No underwear?” He questioned, furrowing his brow at you as you bit your lip, trying to refrain from pressing into his hand.

Whimpering almost indiscriminately, you shook your head, “Couldn’t, panty lines would show under the dress.”

Spencer hummed in recognition, moving his hand up to cup your sex so that you could feel your own wetness on his hand. A pathetic whine escaped your throat as your walls clenched with need, still stopping yourself from grinding on his hand. “What do you need?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, “Come on, you can tell me.”

“You, please,” you answered, your voice dangerously bordering on pleading. “Your hands, anything,” you squeaked out, breathing heavily as you awaited his next move.

Gently, he slipped a finger inside your wet hole, causing you to release a satisfied sigh. “You’re so wet,” he whispered in your ear as you tilted your head back and pressed your lips to his.

As his hand picked up in pace, so did your breathing. With each movement of his hand, you struggled to keep your volume at a respectable level, small whimpers continued escaping you even as you bit down on the inside of your lip. “Spence,” you whined, moaning aloud as he slipped a second finger into you, “Oh, god.”

The silence of the room around you only exacerbated the wet sounds that were emanating from your sex, and if it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve been embarrassed. In fact, as you felt a familiar coil winding in your abdomen, you found that you didn’t have the capacity to feel anything other than pleasure.

Crying out, you nodded as Spencer continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, “Fuck,” you said, caring less about your volume levels. Even less so when he responded by pressing the heel of his hand against your clit, the pressure proving to be enough to send you over the edge.

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispered in your ear, “Let it go for me, baby.” His words continued as you felt your walls spasming around his fingers, his ministrations had slowed, but he worked you through your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers and lifting them up to your mouth.

Accepting the invitation, you leaned forward and sucked the sweet juices off of his hand, slipping your tongue between his two fingers as you looked up at him. You half expected him to be watching you with lust-blown eyes, but he was watching you just as attentively as he had when you started this escapade.

He retrieved his fingers from your mouth with a satisfying pop and reached down to ruche the fabric of your dress up around your waist. “Wait,” he said suddenly, gripping the silky cloth, “I don’t have a condom.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “I don’t mind.” Still breathing heavy from your previous orgasm, you shook your head again, “I mean. I’m on birth control – and I’m good at it. I mean I keep up with it.” Now babbling, you hoped he’d say something. “I’m clean. I trust you.”

Nodding in understanding, he placed a hand on the side of your neck and looked at you intently. “I’m not going to do anything until you catch your breath,” he told you, taking up an authoritative tone.

Blinking rapidly, you evened out your breathing as he ran his hand up and down your torso, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking another deep breath as you looked up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down, pressing soft kisses down the side of your neck as you finally pushed his jacket off of his shoulders. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, leaning down to grip the backs of your thighs.

“It’s okay if you can’t lift me,” you rambled quickly, getting his attention as you aired your concern.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, pressing his hips into yours and lifting your feet off of the ground. The leverage that he had, along with the support of the wall behind him, allowed him to get both of your feet off of the ground. You would’ve spent more time being impressed by this feat if you weren’t so distracted by his painfully hard cock that had now slipped between your folds.

Leaning down, you desperately kissed his lips, wanting him to give you those open-mouthed kisses that you had started out with. Instead, you cried out when, without warning, his full length slipped into you.

Placing gentle kisses on your collarbone, Spencer murmured, “Are you okay?” He whispered, seeming like he was using all of his self-control to just stay still.

You nodded, feeling his cock throbbing so deep in you that you were almost afraid you’d come from just that pressure alone. “Been a while,” you murmured, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He hummed in understanding, “I’ve got you, take your time.”

His words filled your stomach with butterflies, and it wasn’t just because he was fully sheathed in you. “Spence,” you whimpered, “Move.”

On your cue, Spencer gave a tentative thrust, permitting your resulting moan to mix with his grunt. “Fuck, baby,” he said, continuing to thrust in and out of your cunt, filling the room with the crude squelching of your actions. “I’m not going to last long,” he informed you.

Throwing your head back in ecstasy, you moaned helplessly when Spencer dropped one of your legs to the ground, hooking his arm underneath your other knee, providing a new, deeper angle. You swore as the sensations started to feel overwhelming.

The new angle gave him more control over his movements, enabling him to use his free hand to pull at your breast through the fabric of your dress. As you tugged gently at his hair, you tilted your head back, “Spence, I- shit,” you cursed, recognizing the tell-tale signs of your second orgasm approaching.

If it weren’t for his words of encouragement, you would’ve been embarrassed by coming too quickly, and if anything, the words only spurred you closer to the finish line. “Come for me,” he said, thrusting harder into you as he tried to reach the same point. “Let me know how good I make you feel,” he said, continuing his thrusts until his hips stuttered.

“Coming,” you whimpered, dropping your head forward onto his shoulder as you felt your walls tightening around his hard length. Crying out as he continued to pound into you, you buried your face into his neck and nipped at the skin to muffle your sounds.

Now he was solely working toward his own orgasm, having given you two of your own. “You’re such a good girl,” he panted.

Suckling gently at the skin on his neck – not hard enough to leave a mark, you littered kisses on his sensitive skin. “Come in me, baby,” you murmured, trying to spur him on.

Your success was apparent as his movements faltered and his cock started throbbing, feeling the pulses of his cum as it filled you, your eyes rolled back at the feeling while Spencer slowed to a halt, waiting for a beat before he pulled out of you entirely.

Shuddering at the emptiness you now felt, you leaned against the wall once both of your feet were on the ground. As your legs trembled, you watched as Spencer crouched to fish something out of his jacket, leaving you with your mixture of fluids running down your legs.

As he grabbed the handkerchief from his breast pocket, you gasped slightly as you realized his intentions. “Spence, you’ll ruin it,” you insisted.

“Would you rather go back out there with my cum dripping down your thighs?” He asked, knelt in front of you with his brows raised in mock innocence.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head, “Jesus.”

He chuckled, using the handkerchief to wipe up the mess the two of you had made on your legs before carelessly tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Noting the way your legs were still shaking, he lifted your chin ever so slightly, “Are you alright?”

Nodding, you offered him a tired, but genuine smile. “I’m great,” you told him, wiping underneath your eyes where you were sure there was a mess of mascara.

Taking your hand in his, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, Spencer led to toward the French doors that led to the balcony, taking you out into the fresh air.

As you leaned up against the railing, Spencer shook out his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, doing his best to keep you comfortable. “Hey,” you whispered, “I really am fine. Are you? How’s your hand?” In all of the hormones, you had forgotten about his injury.

Spencer nodded, looking over the property that Rossi had rented. “I’m good, Y/N. I feel good.” You wished he’d call you baby again, but maybe that was too much to ask for. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him, recognizing the look from years of working together.

He hummed, reaching up and sweeping a strand of hair off of your forehead. “That guy? The one who told you he’s into someone else? I can confidently say he’s an idiot.”

Flushing, you smiled to yourself at the fact that Spencer was calling himself an idiot, especially when he was anything but. Shrugging, you waved him off anyway, “Nobody’s perfect, Spence.”

“No, I suppose not, but even so…” he told you, allowing his voice to trail off like he wasn’t totally sure what he wanted to say to you. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, then maybe you need to turn your attention elsewhere.”

Sighing, you leaned your chin in your hand, “Thanks, but I don’t know. Maybe there is better out there, and I’m just not worth it.” No, after tonight, you’d likely never get over him. It might’ve started as a workplace crush, but you felt in your heart that it was now something deeper.

Spencer shook his head, “Now, that’s where we disagree.”

“Spencer, I can’t-“ Your voice is cut off when you hear someone calling your name from inside the building, smoothing out the front of your dress one more time, you step back into the room, coming face to face with JJ.

She smiles in recognition of you, but the grin immediately fades from her face when Spencer walks out behind you, “Hey, we’ve been looking for you guys,” she said flatly. “They’re about to cut the cake.”

Nodding, you took another quick look at Spencer before following the blonde out of the room, leaving your secret in the room behind you.

part two

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reyenii · 6 months ago

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since edwin is very closed off, except for when he’s with his best friend, charles, costume designer kelli dunsmore reflected his buttoned-up mentality through his bespoke suit, complete with bowtie and collar. edwin’s outfit, along with charles’ period garb, were designed to help them stand out more in modern day port townsend. “i knew edwin would, because no one dresses like that now,” says dunsmore.

dunsmore wanted everything about charles to feel “a little bit cool and underground,” from his union jack and the who bull’s-eye patches to his checkerboard pins. his little cross earring and chain on the outside of his shirt are also meant to be homages to the ’80s.

in the show, crystal’s hero color is purple, which you’ll notice in her velvet coat and long silk letterman jacket, which dunsmore thought of as a psychic cloak with hand-embroidered patches, including the wilting rose of england.

her brown trench coat represents an explosion of everything going on in her mind. dunsmore decided the scribbled words and drawings are a result of crystal writing all over it to express her inner turmoil. there are even lyrics on there from the song she’s listening to on the tube when she meets the dead boys.

david’s connection with crystal seeps into her wardrobe, too. since david wears a flower shirt, dunsmore’s team hand-painted flowers onto crystal’s black boots. and niko is wearing a dark sweater with flowers on it when we first meet her, as an homage to crystal. the costume department also drew the same rune pattern the dead boys use to exorcise david in episode 1 onto crystal’s trench coat and on the tab of her wool bomber jacket. “so she’s always got some sort of protection,” says dunmore.

every color niko wears is inspired by what’s happening in that episode, from the green post-sprite exodus to blue when she’s feeling sad. niko only wears a white look, with nods to her japanese heritage, in the finale as a reset. the charms on her obi belt represent the colors she’s worn all season.

night nurse is someone who’s in control all the time and likes things to be in their proper place. dunsmore looked to vivienne westwood for inspiration, since everything in night nurse’s world is a bit exaggerated. (by the way, niko’s orange monochromatic look is a nod to her scenes with night nurse and night nurse’s red hair.)

since david is a demon, he finds a london boy that looks cool enough for crystal to find attractive. that meant dunsmore dressing him in a shearling jacket you’d find in “all the guy ritchie movies,” black pants and creeper shoes. the costumer’s mood board for “david the d” featured radiohead and amy winehouse and her husband blake, who often wore hats similar to the one you see david wearing in the show.

pay close attention to monty’s leather jacket and you just might spot an inlaid crow feather or two.

it’s not only esther who wears clothes with a gilt, old-gold color — cat king and night nurse also do as a nod to their villainy. (esther and cat king also have similar fur coats.) amidst her beauty, dunsmore wanted esther to be a little rough around the edges. she wears a cuff around her hand that’s adorned with a snake and a ring with teeth all around it to represent the teeth she’s collecting from all the little girls. her eye necklace is meant to be her witch pendant.

mischievous as ever, cat king has (cat) eyes everywhere and is aware of edwin’s affection for charles. so he wears charles’ socks the first time he meets edwin.

#well this is a very long post with an analysis of each character's costumes #charles rowland #dead boy detectives #edwin paine #edwin payne #niko sasaki #crystal palace #monty the crow #esther finch #night nurse #george rexstrew #jayden revri #payneland #painland

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floatyflowers · 6 months ago

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Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 3

<<< Part 2

Jacaerys is in love with the idea of being a father.

In fact he took Aemma riding on the back of Vermax right after she was born just like his great grandmother Alyssa did with Viserys, just for excitement.

Rhaenyra, loves Aemma and teared up when you named the baby after her mother, she even thought about wedding Aegon III to her when they reached adulthood.

After arriving to King's Landing, the first thing you see is Aemond training while you stand beside Jace and Luke watching him, as you hold your sleeping daughter in your arms.

Jacearys felt jealous on how Aemond took away your attention.

Despite, the real reason why you are impressed by Aemond's skills, is because it reminded you of your uncle/father Jaime, you always loved to watch him train.

While training Aemond notices you and stops, eyeing you and the baby intensely which made you uncomfortable.

All Aemond could feel was anger and jealousy, because you were supposed to be his.

When Vaemond arrives, you prepare yourself and your daughter, you show up dressed in the colors of House Velaryon.

"Vaemond has forgotten that Lady Rhaenys descends from the house Baratheon on her mother's side, Also my daughter, princess Aemma..."

You stand in the middle of the throne room, holding your daughter up proudly for everyone to see her white hair and purple eyes.

Even if you and Jace are the children of Harwin Strong, but your daughter inherited Rhaenyra's appearance, your mother's genes skipped a generation.

Vaemond, decided to insult you and call you and your mother 'whores' as you return back to your husband and mother's side.

Of course, in a spin of seconds, Daemon sliced the Velaryon's man head in half, as Jacaerys blocked yours and Aemma's view.

However, Jace was smirking, happy at what his stepfather did.

Later that day at the feast, Jace and Luke made a promise to you that they would behave and ignore whatever Aemond and Aegon say.

When Jace asked to dance with you at the feast, you objected, insisting on him dancing with Helaena instead.

Aegon and Aemond thought that your marriage wasn't the best with your twin due to how you turned Jace down.

Things escalated when the pig gets placed on the table and Luke whispers a joke in your ear at the exact moment, making you laugh.

Even though the joke wasn't about Aemond, but Luke knew exactly what he was doing as he smirked at his uncle...taunting him.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...and Strong"

Before Jace and Luke could even think about getting angry, you raise a glass with a huge smile on your face.

"Indeed, Uncle, we are strong afterall, my brothers and I descend from the two purest Valyrian houses, Targaryen and Velaryon, my mother is also the heir to the seven kingdoms"

Your grandfather Tywin taught you how to act wisely in such situations.

Aemond wished to speak more, but one look from Daemon was enough to let him know that you are a red line.

However, Aemond only gave you one last stare, as if to make a promise.

A promise where he will have you as a wife.

Part 4>>>

#yandere aemond targaryen #tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #yandere house of the dragon #daughter reader #possessive #aegon ii targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #platonic yandere

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insufferablelust · 4 months ago

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Aemond claiming you as his 🔥 SMUT

RAVISH [BYKA ZALDRĪZES] Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Bind by her betrothal to the rider of Vhagar, the daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen meets Aemond Targaryen to find herself getting more than she ever expected.

Words counted: 6.9k (My sincerest apologies)

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Chocking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic).

Hello! this is my first time posting my work for any HOTD characters, thank you to the anon who requested, and special thank you & dedication to Gabrielle my friend who helped me Beta this work❤️ My request is always open for HOTD characters. English is not my native language so bear with me. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

Rules to Request

You can feel the tightness of your evening attire wrapped around the slopes of your curves, with the long thick fabric that overlaps the bodice of your dress downwards. You stayed as still as you could when your ladies dressed you with much attentive eyes. Hands everywhere from the collar to the soles of your feet.

One of your ladies braid your silky silver hair loose but neatly, perfecting your looks for such occasions. One being the arrival of your uncle, the rider of the biggest dragon in all the realms, Aemond. You can feel the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage, albeit constricted by the tight layers of your attire, it does not deter your nervousness.

Not only is his arrival would have significance on the chess play of the throne of the dragons, but it would bear you consequences that you, in fact, are unable to escape this fate. The fate you have little to say against. The near last wish of the king to betroth you to unite the two sides of the Targaryen blood. Marriage of dragon and dragon, hoping to conceal the gaping wound left by Viserys decisions.

Neither your mother nor your father can truly save you now as you have made your decision to choose your destiny to try and serve the realm the only way you know how. The rising tension and possible bloodshed of cousins and nieces are no longer needed, you had hoped, if you agree to this arrangement. You have no other choice than to take his hand in marriage, even if it means that you have to sacrifice your own freedom and the ambiguous name of the true heir.

You have yet to set your feelings for the rider of Vhagar, he is not only an enigma to you but, more so, a mystery that you are both eager yet scared to fully unveil. There is a part of you know that there is a darkness that surrounds his being like no other, as your brothers have always told you. However, if you are to take his hand in marriage, you would have to force yourself to see the light in him, as you wished for the Seven to guide you in your unprecedented path.

“Princess, pardon me but Her Grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence at the gate, for Prince Aemond’s arrival.”

At once your shoulder straightened as you breathe out a heavy sigh, pulled out of your heavy thoughts by one of the servants. You smiled, and replied with a gentle “Of course, Lyana. I am to be done and head there right away.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you gathered your thoughts, and silently prayed to not only the Seven but to all old Gods of Valyria to gain you strength and will to overcome this behemoth of a challenge that is to be bestowed upon you in a matter of minutes. Opening your eyes again, you begin to shuffle your way out of the mighty wooden door, and off to your journey just outside of the Red Keep, on the gates overlooking Rhaenys Hill.

You’re accompanied by the two of your ladies as well as your trusted guard as you make your way down the castle. You can see in the distance the few people including the Queen, that has already stood patiently waiting for Prince Aemond’s arrival. You blushed as the foot of your dress sweep gracefully onto the stones below, your heart raced with anticipation of meeting your soon-to-be husband.

“Your Grace.”

You curtsied as you approached Queen Alicent, a sign of greeting and respect you have for the mother of the alleged battling heir to the throne. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smiled as she gently touches your arm. Her smile is soft, casted as genuine, however, you can clearly see the tightness in them.

Alicent has always spared you more content than to others directly of your mother’s blood, your obedience to the crown, realm, and dedication to the Seven, helped her to overcome the dreaded raging crossfire between the two apparent heirs. Your demur soft upbringing, contented her enough to welcome you in a hug, albeit fabricated with quarrel.

“Princess, it is a delight for all of us to be blessed by your presence, in honor of the Prince, of course.” She replied, your lips set into a thin smile, as you bowed your head to Princess Helaena. Unlike to her brothers or your step aunt’s entourages, you have a knit bond with Helaena, having to endure the chaos of the brooding conflict in the throne, you both shared the same wish to cultivate what was once a peaceful reign and put an end to the family’s misery. You watched attentively as she rubbed her swollen belly, knowing full well the usurper successor of your mother’s rightful throne cradled in the form of the babe inside her body. Your eyes fleetingly meet hers as you continued to smile.

“As it was a delight for me to procure your request of my presence, Your Grace. I am of honored to be here for the Prince’s arrival.”

Alicent patted your arm one more time before you both overlook the land of King’s Landing, with the view of the Narrow Sea dances in your eyes. You were always amazed by the beauty of the realm, the blue greyish skies are your scenery, especially when you have the opportunity to ride on your dragon’s back. Oh how you wished you could just fly away to Dragonstone right about now and see your family again. Alas that too is wishful thinking.

You were suddenly halted of your longing when the sound of the bellowing of mighty Vhagar came to light, your eyes drifted to the source of such powerful force, as the silhouette of one of the greatest beast come into view. You admired her majestic wings from afar, eyes squinted at her fierceness, biting through the wind and seamlessly breaking through the clouds. As the dragon got closer to the Hill of Rhaenys, just outside the Dragonpit, you could also make out the rider of said beast.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

Even from miles away from the ground, one would not miss the way he fiercely ride the biggest dragon alive known in all seven realms, a dragon he conquered to be his own, the dragon that came to him not when he was born yet when he was in his biggest pit of despair. Vhagar’s bond with her rider is as strong as ever, just like when she roamed the skies with Queen Visenya Targaryen once during Aegon the Conquerer’s reign.

You could make out the shadow of his being as he landed on Rhaenys Hill ever so smoothly, dismounting from the beast before patting her and giving her to the dragon keepers. You hissed in pain as you finally realized that you have been clenching your hand too tightly in front of you.

“Seven heavens dear, are you alright?”

You can hear the soft gasps, and murmurs around you, noticing how you clutched your fingertips together. You have not noticed the entire time that you had been so nervous, it numbed the pain of your even dull fingernails on the palm of your dainty hands.

“Gods.” You exclaimed feeling your palm stings, Queen Alicent noticed the whole thing, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, so did Princess Helaena. “Princess, may I accompany back to the keep? so we can clean your hands” Said Haelena softly, in which you find yourself grateful for.

A nod and curtsy came from you as you lower your head in shame, “I apologize Your Grace, My Princess, for I have unable to assuage my pain. May I please be excused to clean up?” Your voice is in the teetering edge of whimper, eyes too humiliated to stare into Alicent or Helaena’s eyes. If you could summon your dragon here and then, you would and fly away with her so you don’t ever have to come back to Kings Landing but the luck of the Seven was never truly behind you since the start.

“Very well, Princess. Please see to it that the maester is make aware of her condition, and let her heal properly.” Alicent replied sternly, her voice laced with bitter shame covered with fantom worries, and she encouraged Helaena to accompany you, stressing that it would not be much fuss that neither of you would be there to greet the one eyed Prince.

You curtsied once more, before turning away from the looks of all the ladies and lords that have awaited for the Prince’s arrival. You tried to drawn out the murmurs in the background as your hem of your dress shuffled across the cobblestone, making your way back inside the keep.

Haelena was patient as she accompanied you to the Maester’s healing chamber, making small comments so that they are well aware of your little incident. The blush on your cheeks has yet to subside nor does the pounding in your chest. The bodice strangling you from the outside, as your own fear strangled you from within.

“Niece, however are you feeling? has the pain subsided?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft ringing of Helaena’s voice, your mind eased a little hearing her, she is a soothing presence in the midst of your confusion. You may live in King’s Landing, however your soul have always been with your family, home is wherever they were, and that was Dragonstone. How you so badly wanted to be there.

“No need to be worrisome, muñus. By the will of the gods, I shall be fine. It was just my foolish mistake. I should have been more careful.” Aunt.

The last words that left your mouth were that of a whimper, small plea you made to yourself. A plea that you knew would save yourself and possibly the realm had you not make the same reckless mistake over and over again. Helaena whom has been pestering over the healers, sit down besides you. She might be your aunt by bloodline, but she is also closer to your age, knows the burden you carry with the looming threat of the crack in the lair of the dragons.

“Dare I ask what is occupying your mind, dear?”

There is a tinge of pleasant playfulness in her voice that didn’t fail to make you tilt your head and chuckled. Sighing, “None of the matter, My Princess, it is merely a big day for us all.” You looked straight into her eyes as you replied, knowing full well she would understand what does big day entailed.

“Jorrāeliarzys, a fierce dragon such as yourself need not be worry of any apprehension.”

She clicked her tongue at you like a mother scolding their child, you feel comforted by the warmth she displayed to you knowing full well all of this heap was due to her own brother’s arrival upon the keep. Aegon himself has not been able to sleep peacefully since he catches the news of his brother’s wind in Kings Landing.

“Thank you, Helaena. I shall pray that the Prince arrives at the gates safely—“

Your moment was cut short however when you both heard the huge door opening, revealing the two guards that stood in front. Your breath hitched slightly, when you took upon notice the presence whom have entered the healing chambers.

“Brother, welcome.” You quickly took back your hand as soon as the maester was done wrapping it up in a soft silk cloth, concealing your earlier omission from him. Your eyes had not dared to look into his, instead focusing them on the ground beneath your feet as the brother and sister embraced each other in front of you.

Had you not looked away, you would have seen that Aemond’s eyes have certainly never wavered from your presence, his attention was on you as soon as he arrived to the gates. Blood boiling with fury as he had heard what had happened to you. It was supposed to be a happy day, at the very least for him, as it is the day he was going to set eyes again on you. His future wife. The queen to his soon to be realm, the one whom he will fight for.

His eyes has yet to set ashore from your slightly trembling body, it only darted towards your enclasped hands in front of you. “Do you wish to retire to your chambers? you have had a long day on Vhagar’s back.” You can hear Haelena’s voice ring, you wanted so much to greet him as you are accustomed to, however you found your lips to be very hesitant. No sound came out.

“I shall retire later, sister. I wish to see the princess first as I have been made aware of her conditions.”

The smooth sound of his thick voice caresses you softly, yet it leaves a rough grip on its awakening, just like dragon scales. You tilted your head slightly, finally looking at him as you have been sought after.

“My Prince.” Your voice finally escaped your lips, breathing a shaky breath as your eyes locked with his. “Welcome back, the keep has not been the same without your presence.” You smiled gently, lips pressed into a thin line— there is so much resistance coming from you and he knows it.

Aemond then stepped forward, standing in front of you. You felt his dominating figure as he towered over yours, making you swallow the bile in your throat. Your breath, however, hitched in your throat as he tenderly brings your hands upwards, bending over a little to place a lingering kiss atop of the cloth covered skin. “How severely does it hurt, My Princess?”

Shivers come washing down on you when you felt his lips ever so gently grazes your skin, even through the cloth you can feel his warm breath, his attentive touch and words releases a bit of pressure off your shoulders. But you must not let your guard down as you are still standing in front of a man that has caused way too many mishaps for your house. The threatening presence to the house destruction, yet, all of that just gravitated yourself closer to him.

“It barely hurts… All is well, My Prince—“ You replied eyes darting between his patchless eye, and to Helaena behind him whom watching this whole encounter with a smile, “I apologize to have caused you much trouble upon your arrival day, for I swear to the Seven, I did not mean it.”

You can hear Aemond clicks his tongue in front of you, clearly unamused to you apologizing for something that causes you terrible pain. After all you are to be his wife, he would always protect you even if it meant from your own self. “By all the realms, you have no need to apologize-“ He tilted his head in what you can only take as a menacing smug gesture with a grin.

“I’ll take your hand in marriage in less than a moon time, and soon your hand would cradle my babe, I am merely seeking to even give you a new hand, if My Princess ever so wishes for one. Hm, ñuhys jorrāeliarzy?” My beloved.

That pulled a hefty gasp out of you, your hands that were still in his grasp turned so cold. Although it is not a new matter that the King and Queen has betrothed you both, it still feels like you’re reverted to how you are a shy maiden, not nearly as experienced as he was in anything. You have your mother’s wit as well as fierceness, your father’s attitude yet you always find yourself in another dichotomy altogether where you’re more demure than those of your siblings characters, Jacaerys is a wise leader, so as your other brothers, you— you are something else. Never wish for any power yet contented to defending your own.

“I suppose so, My Prince. However you needn’t to worry. I shall be fine by the time moonlight arrives.” You replied with trying hard to keep up with his intense eye contact. It was difficult for you to not drown in his lilac eyes, his silver hair, perfectly sculpted jaw, and even more domineering stance. You have wished sometimes that the Gods would just damn you in the Grand Sept for your lewd thoughts.

“Very well, little dragon. I shall see you during supper tonight, for I can not wait to have a feast.” The last words may not he spoken loudly as his lips were truly beside your ears, however, you can hear it as it was meant to be heard by you only. Your cheeks could not contain the warmth that rises to its surface, only spreading further down your neck— flustered and hot everywhere when the back of his nimble fingers grazes your cheeks twice.

“Whatever do you mean by—“

“We shall meet again, Princess.” With a tentative smirk and a chuckle, he put down your hand and left as he was never there, with his own clasped behind his back striding out of the healing chambers. Your mouth still agape as to what he meant, your heart raced as your body burned with desire. You can only wish to be spared tonight, as you wanted to keep your virtue until you wed.

—

The gold ring glimmered under the light of fire within your chambers, you keep twirling your hand to get a glimpse of the engraved Valyrian words across the ring itself. Byka zaldrīzes. The writings wrote, there is a small ruby gem on the top, adorned with small scales to imitate that of your dragon’s— Silverwing. Aemond had given this to you few moons ago, when the Queen and small council have decided to betroth you both. It is “A token for our betrothal, to remind you that I have promised in the name of the Seven and all Gods to solely devote myself to you.” He had said. Little dragon.

Your heart fluttered at the thought, even when everyone deemed him the cold even sometimes heartless prince, he had shown you slivers of his tender nature. You of course knew of what transpired during his childhood, you knew of his torment, and his tormentors— you were there to witness by your ears, always trying to comfort him afterwards out of goodwill. The memory of it all remained fresh in your memories. After the death of your younger brother, Lucerys, both side of the throne were cold as ice, sharp as Blackfyre— alas you too would fly to Dragonstone if not for the binding vows of the betrothal your mother had arranged when you were a mere child.

You see, you were supposed to marry Aegon, the usurper soon to be king, however that came short when she decided to wed Aegon with Helaena instead, and reconcile the betrothal the deal, with binding you to Aemond, instead. At the time you knew the reason why she were to wed Aegon because Alicent disapprove of your twin brother Jacaerys for his lack of Valyrian blood, or so Alicent claimed.

You, however, was spared of the thoughts considering you were born with silver hair, striking that of your twin brother— mayhaps the reason why you were so fragile as a child, the Maester thought once that you could not have made it far to adulthood let alone reach your 15th name day. Your hand might be taken by a man you do not wish to wed out of loyalty to your mother but perhaps, unable to escape, this is the best possible outcome you could possibly get.

Letting out a sigh, you smoothen the red and gold dress you’re wearing, the sheer fabric on the sleeve of your arms are giving you room to breathe despite the tightness of your attire. Few strands of your silver locks tied in a braid behind your head, whilst the rest flowed down your shoulders freely. The most beautiful maiden in the realm, the ladies often said. You admired yourself in the mirror, before hearing the door knock.

“Forgive me, Princess, but Her Grace, the Princes, and Princess have all waited for you in the dining hall.”

“Thank you, Lyana. I shall depart right away.”

Taking a deep breath, you shuffled your way out your chambers and into the dining hall. Two guards were stationed in front of the giant door, you nodded your head before they opened it. Taking a sight to your views, you can see the familiar faces of the Queen, your uncles and aunt. It seem that there is only five of you present, with one babe cradled inside Helaena.

“Your Grace, My Princes, and Princess.” You curtsied and bow your head before making your way inside. You locked eyes with that of Aemond’s, his lips curled into a grin as he set eyes on your beauty, before settling on the ring adorning your finger. You can also feel the heated gaze of Aegon interlocking between you and Aemond, Gods, you hope there will be no quarrel tonight between the two.

“Niece, it is a pleasure to be graced by your company again.” Came the voice of Prince Aegon with a smirk, already looking halfway intoxicated by the wine perched on his silver glass. “As it is mine, Your Highness.” you sat down on the chair, smiling at your hosts. “For I can see that my brother is assured to be… joyous.” Aegon chirped, you didn’t miss the glares Aemond threw his way.

“Has the remedy by the Maester treat your hand well, Princess?” Helaena asked you before giving his brother a chance to refute, you were thankful for her quick response. Darting to your palm, recognizing the piece of cloth it is still wrapped in. Trying not to grimace of your earlier humiliation, you just nodded your head, “Yes Princess, I cannot seldom express more of my gratitude for your kindness. It is treating very well.”

“That is a very good news indeed, now we shall feast on the supper.” Queen Alicent smiled at you, looking as uncomfortable with the brooding tension of her own sons— gesturing to the table in front of you. “How was the trip, Prince Aemond?” You tenderly tried to slice yourself a piece of roasted duck, only to hiss with the ever looming pain, sighing, you heard a click of the tongue belonging to none other than your betrothed.

“Allow me, niece.” Aemond voice cut through the silence as he offered to slice your meal for you. Warmth feels your cheeks once more as you pass your knife to him so he can cut it.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“It was pleasant enough, Vhagar was restless as she had to fly during a hailstorm, however, the journey felt too long knowing what awaits me in King’s Landing.”

The implication of his words made you look around, seeing his brother, the very man that threatens your mother’s throne snickered and with a huge grin adorning his face.

“My my, you have grown, brother, I did not know you could be so… feeble.” He swings his now empty cup so the servants can pour more wine inside. You inhaled sharply at his comment, knowing what awaits.

Shocks were thrown around the room as suddenly, the knife in the hand of your betrothed—belonging to you, are raised upon the soon to be Usurper’s King direction.

“I can and will have your tongue for that.” The air around you is thick with tension, “Aemond!” his mother gasped, a rivalry of heir successors that you have rarely seen in Dragonstone between your siblings, yet appear to be so common now in the grand pillars of the Keep.

“Enough—“

“You could do well try, if you can get past my guards, weakling.”

“Still hiding behind your guards? you are no man, merely a boy sent to be a fake king.” Aemond jabs, standing at his full height now— knife right against his brother’s neck. The clanking sound of the knight’s armor can be heard.

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.”

Next thing you heard was the loud banging of your knife on Aemond’s hands carved deep inside the table, he had stood up in a rage of fury, if looks could kill, Aegon Targaryen would be 12 feet under by now.

“I said enough!” You have in rare occasions see Queen Alicent be this mad even when her sons drove her crazy, let alone hear her voice this loud. The staring feast between Aegon and Aemond lasted even after the Queen told them to cut it off, looking at Helaena whom seem to be uncomfortable by the situation, you clear your throat and placed a soft hand gently on the back of Aemond’s shoulder.

“My Prince, perhaps I can show you, around the Keep? it has been long after all since you last set foot here.” You tried to keep yourself composed.

You carefully thread your words so neither brothers or queen for that matter, would raise the growing tension ever more. You bravely looked towards Aemond’s piercing stare at his drunken brother. A pregnant pause followed suit, before Aemond let out a scoff and turned around.

The screeching sound of his chair was loud in the silence that cut through the hall, he began walking away as you threw a curtsy before the Queen, and scurried after him outside the hall.

“Prince Aemond, please wait.” You tug the midway of your silk dress so you can follow his pace but he walked with as much rage as he did before. Slender and tall figure scurrying away. Hearing no reply coming from him, you let out a sound akin to a desperate whine.

“Dear will you please— Ah!”

You suddenly feel your back pressed against one of the walls inside the small hall not far from where the bed chambers were located. The walls felt cold to your back, your breathing was loud, so was his. Only then you registered that one of his hands were on your neck, wrapped around your delicate throat with enough pressure to block out some of the air when you inhale. The necklace given by your mother digging through your neck.

“You are quite the woman now, aren’t you, niece?” a teasing chuckle came soon after, “I am intrigued on how you have kept your innocence for all the time I have been gone, hm?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“W-what does that entail, Aemond?” your lips trembled when you speak of his name, you can feel his knees pressed to open the gap between your thighs— causing you to gasp and widen your soft lilac eyes.

“Still remains a maiden, Princess?” Aemond tilt his head, smiling throughout.

“I— of- of course, what are you so boldly implying?” You were taken aback by his implications, the stinging tears on your eyes are threatening to fall down along with the hoarseness of your voice.

“lykirī, issa jorrāeliarzys—“ scoffing in amusement, “I merely wanted to know how hard I can fuck you tonight.” You tried to wiggle away from his hold against your neck only for him to, once more, clicked his tongue at you as if you’re a disobedient child, and put his other hand on your waist to steady you against the wall— leaving no space to go. Calm, my love.

“ah ah, do not make a fuss now, sweet one. wouldn’t want to alert the whole castle on the doings of their virtuous Princess, now would we?”

You can feel his nimble fingers caresses the exposed skin of your hunched dress, the silk making way for his touches to graze yours ever so tantalizingly. “I have dreamed of this, —of you like this.” He muttered, “each time you soothed me after your cunt of brothers disrespected me.” you were still much shocked and flustered at his ministrations. Lips moving down to capture your neck, slowly moving down to the column of your now exposed throat.

“Aemond— not here…”

“Hush, dove. Now that you will soon be my wife, I shall have you whenever, wherever, and however I desire to.” His words are muttered against your skin, drawing soft breathy whines from you.

“Aemond, we should n-not… Please…” You tried to reason with him, even when your hips grinds against his pants covered knees— still nudged in the slope of your inner thighs. You felt your clothed bundle of pleasure rubbed ever so slightly against him when he further raised his knee against you. Making you whine in delight and frustration. “Gods! mmh, aem!”

“Seems to me that you wanted this as much as I do, little one.” He teased as he continues his quest, deep kisses left in his wake, “I shall claim you how I see fit, wouldn’t you say so, princess?”

You tried to answer him but only mewls and whimpers escaped out your lips as you continued to grind against his knees, meeting his now fasten pace, and the kisses on the sensitive spot on your neck just below your jaw is making you high. Gods, it feels like you’re set ablaze by thousands of dragon fire.

“Asked you a question, niece.”

“Yes! Gods yes! take me however you desire.” Your resolve has been breached once and for all, for you can not escape how intoxicating his touches are. You have been to wound up with all the realm duties, indulgence is not one for the Princess, however your desire is far too strong to resist your soon-to-be husband.

“You may not be a whore from the common streets, but you are my own, byka zaldrīzes.” Little dragon. “You will know how wrong my brother was after I fucked you.”

“and I still fuck my whores better than you do, brother.” The words exchanged by Aegon now rings on your ear.

Wanton moans escaped your lips as he continued his assault on your neck, he bent down a little to access the hem of your embroidery to push it down— you whined at the loss of his knee on your soaked cunt, “Why’d you st— oh gods!” you threw your head back against the wall at the feeling of his warm lips engulfing your now hardened buds.

“Patience.”

He muttered sharply before suckling on your teats, nipples darkened with blood rushing to them— all plump and Aemond salivated to the thought of them filling up when you, one day, will bear his child—children. “Cannot wait to fill you up, watch you swell with my babe.” He groaned, switching from one buds to the other— left you panting.

“Ah mm! can’t wait— oh! to carry your heir, my Prince…”

Whilst his mouth is preoccupied by your left nipple, his fingers are tweaking your other one, pulling and twisting— making you writhe in pleasure, you are sure that your small garment is soaked by now.

“You will never be able to escape me in our marit—“

You both were pulled from your pool of lust and pleasure when you heard the clanking noises of a knight’s armor rounding the corners of the Red Keep. Your eyes wide as you tried your best to push Aemond away only for him to raised an eyebrow and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh, do not make a sound, little one.”

You were about to protest when you felt his other hand trailing up your haunched hem, his feet parting your lets.

“nnh—“ you tried to speak against his hand, but he just let out a scoff and pushed you impossibly deeper to the wall.

“Rȳbās.” Obey.

Pleasure overtook you as Aemond’s fingers pushed aside your garment, fingers came in contact with the flushed slick soaked flesh of your needy cunt. “you are enjoying this.” He shake his head with so much amusement to his gleaming eyes and smirking lips—voice just above a whisper to make sure no one heard him, but if you have to guess, he wouldn’t care if someone catches you anyways.

“Here I though my little Princess is a pious woman, and here she is, with a dripping cunt begging me to fuck her.”

You heard the clanking sound moving away, noises slowly disappearing into the cold night. “I’d rather say you have been wanting me to do this, is that what you mean by showing me around?” He chuckled deeply, feeling your already flustered face, heated more.

You gasped a breath of relief when his hand unclasped your mouth, “N-no. I truly wanted to—“

“No need to lie, zaldrītsos. Your cunt tells me enough.” with that he gave your pearl of pleasure a slap, you jolted with a loud whine “Aemond, fuck!” Little dragon.

Your pleasure was short lived, however, when he wrapped his arm below your knees before pulling you up his shoulder. Hauled you up before strolling down the hall to where the royal apartment quarters sits.

“Put me down, Aemond!”

“Quiet.”

He playfully patted your arse as he make his way to what you presume to be his chamber. You did not get a good look if there were guards stationed outside, as you thought they would be— he is the prince after all, it’s not like he could care less.

Aemond slam the door shut, before he puts you down and you catch your breath.

“Aemond, what was th—mmmh!”

Your complaints were cut short when he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate manner, lips engulfing your own, as his tongue breached past to enter your hot cavern. His free hand move up to grasp your hair in a tight knot as he slowly move you back towards his bed, the back of your thighs hitting the edge.

His tongue continued to explore yours as his hands roam over your body, from your sensitive jugular to your taut breasts, belly and the conjuncture of your thighs. You let out a gasp of relief and shock as he pushed you to the bed.

Aemond wasted to time to flip you over and manhandled you so that you’re face down on the bed, your back in a perfect arch, silver locks flows beautifully— your arse is up in the air, whilst your feet dangled from the edge. Having ripped your evening attire off, you’re left bare. Cunt exposed. Needy, soaked, and desperate for his attention.

“Kostilus…” your begs are mere muffled mewls by now as he stood to admire your beauty. Gods. He has waited for this for a long time. Your betrothal might just be the cure to his raging agony. Please.

You heard a thud—“Oh Gods!” throwing your head back, as his cold fingers gathered your slick and run them along your folds, gently at first. You turn your head slightly to see him only to had your moans halted.

It’s Aemond, but he no longer wears his eye-patch. His sapphire gem shone bright under the moonlight that seeped through the night sky of King’s Landing. His soft lilac eyes gleamed too. You’re enthralled by his beauty, every marks and turns.

“My, my… you’re drenched. Desperate, aren’t we?” He scoffed at your agape mouth, feeling his 2 of his fingers entering your cunt with vigor, you closed your eyes tightly as you clench on him in instinct. “Ah ah, none of that, open them now, dove.”

Your eyes fluttered open as he commanded, “Look at me, Princess—“ you did with your eyes droopy and sinful lips parted in shallow breaths, “In less than a moon time, you shall find yourself in this situation, each night in our marital bed, ñuhys ābrazȳrys.” it delighted you, and heated the fire in your core to hear his devotion. My wife.

“Y-yes husband.”

Aemond groaned as he sped up his fingers, squelching noises now aloud bouncing off the walls, “Say it again for me.”

“ahh.. mmh! fuck— I am yours, husband, I promise by the Seven!” His fingers grazed your most sensitive spot, as his palm graze your pearl.

“After I claim you, I’d have anyone’s heads that dared to look at you as I do.” The silken sheets beneath your fingers now creased as you keep on clenching them, “Not that they will ever try, not after you begin to swell.” you arched your back with your toes curled, building release arose inside your belly, “with my seed, my babe, my heir.”

“fuck yes! yes yes! as many as you wish.. please, Aemond!”

“Come for me, little one. I’ll fill you up afterwards.” His free hand tangled itself on your silver locks to yank it back, your body shaking with your high so close, eyes teary with your lips wet, raw, and bitten. Truly a sight reserved only for the Gods.

One more brush of his palm against your pearl simultaneously with his fingers abusing your core, all of it was too much as you let out a silent scream, you came on his fingers.

“Good lord! Aemond…”

“Fuck, princess…” His fingers does not let up, however, and continues its assault inside your now gushing cunt. “You are Gods sent.” He whispered before pulling his fingers out slowly, watching you thrash on the bed, licking his fingers afterward.

“Beats the sweetest Westerosi wines.”

You have no more strength to reply as your legs felt like jelly, however the heat in your cheeks and race of your heart never cease, your eyes blink slowly when you heard the soft clad of his tunic, then followed by his cloth pants fell down the floor.

“Ae—mmh!” Toes curling at the feeling of the flushed hard tip of his cock gliding over your now oversensitive folds, “Ready, little dragon?” he teases the entrance of your weeping cunt as you whined,

“Just put it in— Oh!”

“You—fuck! you are greedy for a maiden.” He slowly thrust his tip inside you making you wince at the intrusion. “Aemond… it hurts…” you closed your eyes briefly for Aemond’s length is not to be messed with… long, width as thick, and curved on the tip. You wish you have more time in the future to admire him fully. “Shh shh, the pain will subside soon, little one, stay with me.”

To ease the pain, his fingers once again found haven on your clit, softly pressing as you jolt in overstimulation, “Mmnh.. please…” your body is writhing in both pain and pleasure, “Hells, you’re so tight.” He grunted, pushing inch by inch as your cunt accommodates his size, before pushing it in one thrust.

Your back arched deeply as your mouth agape, loud mewls and moans escapes them on a rapid rate, as you sure the guards will be able to hear by now. His free hand let go of your hand and move to place them on the slope of your hips before moving to pull almost every inch of his length, then slams it back down to the hilt.

“You f-fill me up so much, my prince.” Moans are now freely came out of your lips, as he continued his unrelenting pace, thrusts that are deep as well as it is hard, giving you no chance to catch your breath. You felt like you are flying with your dragon, its that high pleasure that are like no other. “and I shall do— fuck, again and again to ensure my seeds take.”

Though composed, you can hear his breathing shallower than usual, his thrusts are erratic yet remains a choking pace on you. Your fingers grasp the sheets so tightly, you’d have no excuse if the maids found it shred the next day. “My prince—“

“Close?” he can feel your cunt tightening, and holding a vice grip to his cock, the clench made him lose his mind. Gods, he’d stay inside of you all day if you let him, “I’d rather spend my life inside you than to deal with my cunt of a brother.”

“and… and i’d let you.” your voice are jagged, as your body thrown forward and backward following his pace, cock filling your walls— you can feel every vein and ridge, making their indents known to claim you. “What an obedient little wife you’d be.” he muttered with vigor, his hips never relenting to stop, always reaching your spot.

“Only for you, my—oh! my prince!” your peak is nearing, you can feel it so does he, fastening the fingers on your clit, “Come for me, little one. Do it.” He encouraged you, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder tenderly, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Av— aaah oh gods!” you threw your head back, back arching and, “Aemond!” you peak, coming from him harder than the last, body slumping to the sheets as your high took over. “Please… please, fill me up. put your h—heir inside of me.” You begged with the last ounce of your strength.

Your cunt clenching on his length so tight that he is so close to reaching his own release, “Gonna put a babe in you, gonna— fuck! watch you swell over and over again.” He groaned loudly, feeling himself getting lost on you, in you.

“Avy jorrālean.” You half whine and whispered, “fuck!” Aemond releases inside you, coming with his seed pumping you full, whispering your name over and over again, against the skin of your neck. I love you.

You both panted, he held your now full belly in his palm before sliding out of you gently— his actions so soft and light, a striking contrast to his earlier ministration. “Oh.. Princess..” He cooed tenderly at you when he flipped you over and look to where you’ve separated, eyes focusing on your mixed fluids. “stop looking its—“

“Ah ah, shush, little dragon. let me take care of you.” He kissed your lips once more before placing a soft pillow beneath your head.

There and then you knew that you might not marry the kindest man, nor the man you dream of in all seven realms, however, you knew in your lonely despair, being wed to Aemond would satisfy your affections. Soon thereafter, you marry and in less than a moon time your belly began to swell, and you can only wish to raise the babe with your husband in a safe unbroken house.

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maidragoste · 1 year ago

Text

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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gracieheartspedro · 6 months ago

Text

About You

how to help gaza

pairing: colin bridgerton x f!reader, brief benedict bridgerton x reader action

description: finally ready to get off the marriage mart, your family arranges a marriage to a bridgerton. but not the one you have always desired.

word count: 2.4k words

author’s note: hiiii folks. this is part one so more coming soon. I wrote it in an hour after I watched pt1 of season 3. I only edited it a couple times. plus there’s a lack of colin content on this website. so i’m here, filling the void ❤️

You had waited for this night your whole life. The night you would be proposed to.

Your mother had ensured you wore your finest gown, a soft purple dress with beautiful sparkles and embellishments. She even gifted you a necklace your grandmother had worn the night of her engagement.

It was a huge moment for everyone involved. But you could not help but feel a pit in your stomach. You wanted to call them nerves, but it was more so you knew you were making a mistake.

When you arrive at Lady Danbury’s estate, you and your parents step out of a horse-drawn carriage and into a beautifully decorated ball. The candles lined the entrance, and red and white roses encapsulated the entire space.

You did the typical introductions and curtsies. You thanked Lady Danbury for throwing such a captivating event for your special moment. She smiled and told you that it had to be mesmerizing for such anticipation. You felt light-headed thinking of all the eyes that would be on you tonight.

You found your way to the ballroom, where ladies and gentlemen alike were already dancing. You find your way around the room, instantly finding a group of ladies you had made acquaintance with before. The four of you chat and they all share that they cannot wait to watch the Bridgerton boy propose to you in front of the masses.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You excuse yourself to find some lemonade on one of the many tables. You would prefer some champagne, but alcohol does not make it right for you. It does not allow any clarity. So, you stand alone, trying to collect your thoughts and not freak out too much before anything happens.

“There’s my gem.”

His voice is deeper when it’s right in one of your ringlet curls. It also doesn’t help that he’s saying it for your ears only, making the comment even more sensual.

Colin Bridgerton was terrible at being just your friend. He was always too close to you, always searching you out in a crowd, and constantly waiting around for you at social events.

He had been doing it for years before he disappeared on a world tour. You knew your time on the marriage mart was over when your mother and father, a Duke and Duchess, pulled aside Violet Bridgerton and begged her to pawn one of her sons off onto you. And while she would have easily convinced Colin, he was in Italy learning about The Pantheon and had stated he had no intentions marrying.

So, Benedict would have to do.

You turn to face the taller gentleman, ensuring your posture was fixed to that of a Lady.

“Mister Bridgerton, what do I owe the pleasure?” You falter to formalities, rather than your normal banter with him. You knew people would be watching you like a hawk, as tonight was the night Benedict was going to try to secure a proposal.

“I have not seen you in a year and suddenly you speaking to me as if I am a stranger,” His voice is confident, but his eyes read the same insecure boy you remember.

You let out a sly chuckle, “Well, we practically are at this point, are we not? You are the Ton’s most eligible bachelor as soon as you returned from your tour and I feel like the man gracing me with his presence is not the man I once knew.”

He seems taken aback by your comments, his face dropping a bit.

“I’ve been hearing whispers amongst the Ton that you’re getting a proposal,” He halts, taking a sip of the lemonade slid between his fingers, “From my brother?”

You hear the jealousy laced in his voice, but you try your best not to call him out on it. You turn around, still shoulder-to-shoulder with the man. “One can only hope, Mister Bridgerton. It would only be my pleasure to join the family.”

“As Benedict’s missus?”

You want to scream at him, but your trained politeness is engrained deep within every fiber of your being.

“Well, I have you know, that it was arranged by your Mama and my parents. It is simply a way to join our families. You know my Mama and yours have always taken to one another. I did not know you would have such an issue with it.”

Before he can say more, you spot Benedict across the ballroom chatting with Eloise and Francesca. He meets your eyes and gives you a curt nod and smirk. You nod back, knowing that he would approach you once the conversation concludes. You had this whole act down to a science.

Because that’s what it was for you. An act. A way to make your parents get off your back. It was no love match, it was only practical. Benedict was a gentleman, into the arts, comfortable with moving away from the city. He was everything you needed, just not what you wanted.

“I leave for a bit of time and suddenly my own brother is courting my best friend,” Colin groans, shifting in his spot. You return your gaze back to him, trying to understand why tonight had to be the night that he fought for you. The term best friend had a bite to it, as well. While you were a lady, you had already shared a kiss with a few boys, including Colin. While you two were underage and not able to make such distinct decisions on marriage, you knew that the feelings you had for him were shared.

What was so frustrating was that he could never actually confess such feelings. You could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way, but the words never slipped his lips. He only shot flirtations at you and then there was no action as a follow-up. It made your mind race and spin. You started to believe that it was not flirtations at all and it was all just teasing.

“I think you are missing out on the key point in your conjecture, Colin,” You lick your lips, moving only a bit closer to him so no one can hear your words, “You left me. I stayed here and pondered what another season would be like without you. And of course, at the very end of such an event, you decide to be cruel.”

“How am I being cruel, Miss? I am simply stating that you are choosing someone I care about for expedience and not for love.”

“You are being cruel by approaching me and acting like you are even half aware of the circumstances you are speaking of.”

He chuckles, trying not to entertain your comments. “I am well aware that you have always wanted a love match. You know that is not what you are getting with Benedict, Gem.”

Your throat tightens because you know he is right. You have dreamed of a love match since you were a precocious child, enduring all the teasing him and Eloise about it.

And you knew deep down that the love match you wanted was with him.

The damn nickname he gave you years ago continues to get a rise. You can feel your face get flushed, the heat rising all the way down your neck and chest.

“Who said I needed a love match, Mister Bridgerton?!”

You never meant to be loud, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize everyone staring your way. You had seriously messed up.

Colin did not even look away from your completely shell-shocked expression. He was not focused on the glares and whispers, he only cared that the woman he was in love with was about to marry his brother. He could not let that happen.

The feeling of embarrassment made every part of your body jittery. You decided that the exit seemed like the best option, so you made your way past everyone and ran to the back garden of the Danbury estate. The flowers that lined the railings made the tears in your vision sparkle like fireworks.

You try your best to suppress the useless waterworks, but the emotions get the best of you. You felt humiliated that you had to explain your motives to a man who hardly knew you anymore. What does he know?

You find a corner to hide in, making sure your face is hidden away from the exit. When you hear footsteps approach, you pray it’s not a Bridgerton. Sadly, you’re disappointed.

“What did Colin say to you?”

You remove your cream glove, ensuring no tear touches such an expensive fabric. You needed to collect yourself a bit before turning to face Benedict. So you dab your eyes with your fingertips and spin to face him. He looks concerned, his hand reaching for yours.

“I am so sorry, Lord Bridgerton. He got the better of me and he still knows how best to irritate me,” your eyes well up again with tears, “I do apologize for not being more put together.”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Do not apologize. I expected him to be a bit tormented by the whole situation.”

You furrow your brows, quizzically. “What ever do you mean?”

“Well, he told my Mama last season that he did not want to marry because you were courting Lord Jacques. That is why he left early for his travels.”

The revelation makes your heart skip a beat, “Why would him marrying have anything to do with me?”

You try to play dumb so maybe you could get more out of the man, but instead of answering you, he just shakes his head. His focus drops, and as soon as you lose fixation on his actions, you notice Colin loitering around the exit. You drop Benedict’s hand and sidestep to get the man in your line of vision.

“You have never been good at hide and seek, Mister Bridgerton,” You say with spite, “Step into the light.”

His slow meander only makes you more angry.

“Now, why is my brother alone with my best friend in the garden? Seems like a scandal waiting to happen.”

Benedict snickers, “Seems like we were never alone, brother. You appear to be around every waiting corner.”

You cross your arms, annoyed with both men and sick of the mortification. You could not help but appreciate Benedict’s snarky nature, it has always thrown Colin off his game. You clear your throat, bringing their eyes to you.

“I wish to understand why you lied to me about leaving early last season.”

Colin’s disposition changes as soon as you say it. Last season, Colin left abruptly and wrote you saying it was because of a learning opportunity in Vienna. You took his word for it, but based on what Benedict had just told you, that was a lie.

“Pardon m-”

“Colin, why did you lie about leaving the season early?”

“Gem, I really do not know where you got this information.”

“Oh, give me a break, Colin. You told me and Anthony that you did not wish to marry unless a girl like her came around. When you realized she was interested in another, you left.”

Colin races forward, grabbing onto the man to your left. He tugs his vest coat and brings him inches from his own face. The action rattles you, but you remain composed.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“And you are making her upset with your mind games! If you had just said what your heart’s truth was, you would be the one celebrated tonight. Instead, you stand by and fume over a woman you can no longer have.”

Colin clenches his teeth, “Who said I can no longer?”

Your stomach flips, unsure of how Colin could be so possessive of you. Benedict seems shocked as well because he nudges the man off of him and glances over at you. You realize that this is Colin’s way of confessing his intentions, but you cannot believe that he has to say it on the night of your engagement.

“You are brazen to concur such a thing.”

Colin finally looks at you, taking note of your shaky voice. “So, you are going to marry him?”

The unsettle in your heart has never gone away ever since you were told about the arrangement. You knew that your heart was telling you to run the other way, but you did not want to let down your family. You had taken kindly to Benedict, promenading almost every other day to get to know one another.

“I have not been asked yet, so I am not quit-”

Colin steps forward taking your hand, “What if I asked you first? Would you accept me? My hand, I mean?”

Benedict steps forward, touching his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Gem, will you marry me?”

A tear slips past your lashes, your heart just about exploding within your chest. Colin’s eyes are desperate, pleading with you. You are not sure what to say, every possible word escaping you.

You realize you are panting, the breath leaving your lips labored in panic. You flick your sights over to Benedict, who is stunned but not trying to get Colin to retract his query. You revert your gaze back to Colin’s deep blue eyes.

“Why now?”

He takes a deep breath, “Because I am absolutely useless with my emotions and I have only humiliated myself when I express them. I did not think you would ever consider my hand and had I known that you thought kindly of me I would have told you the first moment you debuted. But I cowered in silence, hoping the emotions I have felt since I was a child would subside. But I have searched every corner of this world and I did not find one lady that made me feel the same emotions I feel when I even just look your way. I hate that it took me so long to realize that you are the only woman I will ever really… love.”

The confession is exactly what you need to change your mind. Because you felt the exact same way. All this time you have been running from the emotions you felt every moment Colin stared in your direction. You thought them immature and vain. But every time you watched him dance with another, the fire within you would burn. You were sick of loving him from far away.

“The Ton believes me to be promised to Benedict. The embarrassment he will suffer if I accept your proposal could be deafening-”

“Do not worry about me, Miss,” Benedict says, pacing with his hands on his hips, “I could never fully live with myself coming between two lovers. I only waiting for him to realize what we have all been subjected to the last 3 years.”

Colin smirks at him, “And what’s that?”

“The torture of loving someone and not giving in to temptation.”

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x female reader #colin bridgerton smut #netflix #gracieheartspedro #colin bridgerton one shot #penelope featherington #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton

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silverfairywings · 1 month ago

Text

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT I

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: not sure what this is but let me know if u want more lol

You’d think that hiding behind the Spymaster of the Night Court, a literal Shadowsinger, would allow you to blend in well enough to go unnoticed.

The auburn silk of your dress is a near perfect match to the grandeur of the Autumn Court ballroom you’re unfortunate enough to have to be in, and you tell yourself that the attempt at camouflage is the reason you were so drawn to the colour.

When Rhysand approached you and the rest of the Inner Circle with the invitation of a ball thrown by Eris to celebrate his newly inherited title of High Lord, your sister Nesta had dragged you out to shop for new dresses. You were adamant to wear an old gown until the dress caught your eye, the gold beads glinting in the light, almost mimicking a gently burning fire. The deep orange hue of the silk slip was muted ever so slightly by the sheer overlay, cinching at the waist before cascading to the ground and the wisps of fabric around your legs gave the illusion of sparks every time you moved.

Nesta had made a comment about the dress being perfect for Autumn Court and you had to physically restrain yourself from grimacing. You just liked the colour. It didn’t mean a thing.

Nesta and Feyre looked like perfect representatives of the Night Court and even Elain was donning soft shades of purple and blue tonight, a perfect embodiment of twilight. You loved your sisters, but you felt like you never quite fit in to the Night Court the way they had grown to. And you certainly felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb tonight.

Eris was definitely going to comment on the dress and you curse yourself internally, not having thought it through. He was jarring at the best of times, let alone a night that was solely dedicated to him. And you were dressed in the colours of his court.

You were extremely glad when Eris’ mother was the one to greet you all when you first entered the Autumn Court and not him. It allowed you to fully appreciate the beauty of his lands with unrestrained awe. Your sisters knew that Autumn had always been your favourite season, so the way you were so happy catching each falling leaf out of the sky was even more amusing to them considering they also knew how little patience you had for Eris.

That’s why you find yourself hiding behind Azriel’s wings tonight. As soon as you spot Eris making his way to greet Rhysand and Feyre, you sneak behind the Shadowsinger in an attempt to make yourself invisible.

“Seriously?” mutters the Illyrian, but he stays still for you all the same.

“Keep quiet,” you hiss, prodding him in the back. “You know very well how much he targets me. Gods, I thought he hated Cassian, but I seriously give him a run for his money.”

Mor, overhearing you, snorts into her cup. She creeps up next to you, lowering her voice to match yours. “You are so oblivious. He doesn’t hate you. He wants-”

“Might I interrupt the riveting conversation that I’m sure is going on behind the Shadowsinger’s wings?” you hear a voice drawl from in front. Your blood runs hot at being caught and you nearly burst into flames when Azriel starts to lower his wings, revealing you and Mor. She rolls her eyes at Eris’ attitude and walks away to talk to the pretty faerie in the green dress.

The years have softened the strained relationship between the Circle and Eris and none of them view him as a threat any longer. That doesn’t mean they find him any less irritating though.

Eris smiles at you when you cross your arms and clench your jaw, already feeling impatience with him bubbling up inside of you. He glances down at your dress and his lips quirk up a little higher. “Looking stunning as ever, Y/N.”

The others have already dispersed, and even Rhysand and Feyre have started to garner the attention of other important people they need to talk to. As they start to leave however, Rhysand speaks to in your head. Let me know if he’s bothering you too much. Just… try not to throw a plate at his face this time, please.

You glare at the back of Rhysand’s head. That was one time.

He doesn’t respond but you see his shoulders shaking with laughter for a millisecond before Feyre nudges him to behave in front of an Autumn Court official.

“Talking about me?” Eris asks, amused. You open your mouth to snap back at him, but notice the growing number of guests that are around the two of you now that the others have moved away. You bite your tongue for once. He is the High Lord now after all.

You plaster on a sweet smile. “Only good things… High Lord.”

Eris raises his brows at that, but chooses not to comment. He holds out his hand instead. “Dance with me.”

You’re about to laugh in his face and tell him absolutely not, but his request has caught the attention of a couple guests and they nosily look over in what you’re sure they think is a subtle way. “I’m a little tired. Sorry,” you say through gritted teeth, still smiling.

“Surely you’re not going to deny me such a small request on tonight of all nights?” he says softly, part mocking and part pleading.

You know for a fact he won’t force you to dance, but if you deny him in front of the other guests, it’ll undermine him and while you dislike him, you’re not that cruel. Plus, Feyre would probably have your head if you were to insult a High Lord in public. In private, she only ever laughs when you disparage him, but appearances are everything.

“Of course not,” you deadpan, reaching for his outstretched hand and trying not to react to the way the warmth radiating through his palm is warming your previously cold fingers.

He leads you into the crowd of dancing guests, placing his free hand on your waist as you rest yours on his shoulder, keeping a respectable distance. He rolls his eyes and tugs you forward so your chest is nearly flush against his own. When you glare at him, he merely smirks. “It’s a little hard for two people to dance when one of them is halfway across the room from the other.”

You hear a giggle from one of the guests near you and nearly whip around to glare at them. Eris catches the expression on his face and it’s as though he can read your mind with the way he’s holding back a grin. “My apologies,” you mumble, before lowering your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “Smartass.”

“I do so enjoy your pet names for me,” Eris teases, utterly unbothered. Every time you interact with him, you swear to yourself you’ll keep a cool head. And every time, you fail. “I like your dress.”

You narrow your eyes at the compliment, but since he hasn’t actually said anything insulting or with a double meaning like he usually does, you don’t have anything to be annoyed about and begrudgingly accept the nice words. “Thank you.”

“You look ravishing in the colours of my court.”

You step on his foot.

He hisses in pain, but the grin doesn’t leave his face when he sees that he’s succeeded in irritating you.

“I didn’t choose the colours on purpose,” you say, defensively. “I just happened to like the dress.”

“You know, you often happen to like Autumn colours,” he muses, expression turning thoughtful and not in a sarcastic way this time. “Or any colour that isn’t of the Night Court’s fashion. Tell me, do your sisters know how you long to find someplace you actually belong?”

Your stomach drops and you feel like you’ve been doused in freezing cold water.

“I wasn’t aware you were a Daemati, High Lord,” you say, scowling. Eris furrows his brows at the title and spins you out before bringing you back in, this time a little closer than before. “You’re wrong.”

“Stop calling me that,” he mutters, a hint of impertinence in his voice. It takes you by surprise since you assumed he’d be revelling in all the glory, the power of High Lord coursing through his veins. Instead, he sounds like a boy being denied his favourite sweets. “Call me Eris again.”

“No.” You frown at him, pulling back slightly to meet his stubborn gaze. “We’re not friends. You’re the High Lord of Autumn now and I’ll be addressing you as such.”

“What, I’m High Lord now, so you have to respect me all of a sudden?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you sigh, already anticipating this conversation taking a turn you don’t want it to.

“You have to be pleasant with me?”

“Yes.”

“Listen to my commands?”

“Yes.”

His smile turns wolfish. “Then I command you to call me Eris.”

“I can think of a few other things to call you, if not High Lord,” you mutter, careful not to allow any eavesdroppers to hear.

“And while I’d love to hear them, I doubt they’d be suitable for the delicate ears of court officials.”

While he’s exactly right, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief tells you that he’s insinuating a completely different type of unsuitable and your cheeks burn.

“Don’t you ever tire of being so wearisome?” you say, drily. His eyes soften ever so slightly as they scan over your face.

“Don’t you ever tire of pretending?” he asks quietly, meeting your eyes determinedly. You don’t bother asking him to clarify.

“Why can’t you just mind your own business?” You try to snap at him, but the way his words hit you deep have all the bite leaving your voice and instead you sound imploring.

Eris doesn’t answer your question and just keeps going as the two of you dance. “My mother wants me to tell you that you’re welcome to visit any time, by the way.”

“I’ll let Rhysand know.”

“She didn’t say Rhysand, she said you.”

”What?” You look up at him, shocked. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say, “Why in the world would your mother want me to visit? She saw me hurl that plate at your head last month.”

“Yes, and she told me I probably said something to deserve it,” he grumbles, but without any real malice when talking about his mother. It’s clear as day that he has nothing but love for the sweet woman.

“She’s a smart one, your mother,” you say, grinning at the thought of Eris being reprimanded. You catch him watching you without speaking and immediately frown, not wanting him to think you’re actually smiling at him. Which you definitely aren't. “I still don’t understand why she wants me to visit.”

Eris shrugs, although his eyes stray from yours, and he’s seemingly bored with the conversation as he looks down to the floor as your feet move gracefully across it. “She likes your attitude.”

“My bad attitude?” you ask, wrinkling your nose in genuine confusion.

“Passionate,” he corrects you, meeting your eyes again, and you find no traces of humour in them. “And ‘fiery’ as she called it. Don’t feel bad for not being able to always control your emotions in front of others like the rest of them. You’re allowed to feel.”

Any response you might have had is lost to nothing and the silence stretches as your heart feels like it’s slamming against your chest. It’s a mix of fear and something else with the way he’s looking at you and you suddenly need to be anywhere else.

Clearing your throat, you step back in the middle of dancing and lower your hand from his shoulder to smooth down your dress. Your other hand is still ensnared in his and it lingers there while he speaks.

“If you do accept my mother’s invitation, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want to,” Eris adds and you try and listen out for any veiled mocking.

“Why do you even care?”

At this, his lips quirk up almost involuntarily. Slowly, his fingers start to loosen up around your hand and he begins to let go, faintly trailing his hand down your own as he does so. Instead of stepping away, he walks closer, stepping to the side slightly to lean down so his lips brush against your ear in a way that makes your breathing erratic.

“My mother was telling me that she saw you practically light up like a forest fire surrounded by the trees. She feels as though you should be able to stay longer next time,” he says in a normal voice before lowering it to a whisper. “She also overheard one of your sisters call Autumn your favourite season.”

Before you can protest and, let’s face it, lie to him, Eris calmly walks away and you know for a fact that the smug bastard is smirking at the way he’s succeeded in getting under your skin.

There’s no way you’re accepting his mother’s invitation, as sweet a woman as she is. You think about all the possible ramifications and decide to push the thought in its entirety out of your mind.

Nothing good ever comes from agreeing to dance with Eris. It’s extremely similar to playing with fire, you think.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x you #Eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fanfic #Eris vanserra imagines #eris x oc

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shotmrmiller · 7 months ago

Text

simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader

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