#if he comes back IF he will REMAIN a bastard in the nights watch

[adarkandmagicalforest]

if one more person claims that rickon 'most voted to be a red shirt' stark will be king over sansa being queen in the north, i will lose my whole fucking mind

sansas whole STORY has been about becoming queen, learning from queens, my girl 'when i am queen, i will make them love me'

sansa will be queen in the north, and if one more person says

'oh but jon -'

'oh but bran -'

'oh but rickon-'

'oh but a possible UNBORN BABY OF ROBB -'

SHUT THE FUCK UP

[ladyempty]

Yandere Maegor, Daemon and Aegon I reaction to Reader running away and marrying someone else and having children?? Please 😭😭

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | English is not my first language. |

Aegon I

Aegon Targaryen I is the definition of a conqueror, courageous, intelligent and ambitious, with a friendly and captivating personality, easily lovable and admirable, but with few close friends. A certain air of enigma surrounded his figure, making people try to unravel him, attracted like moths by his light of monarchical dignity.

The king was comfortable and accustomed to sycophants, women dragging themselves for crumbs, or simply a single night in his bed. He was unfamiliar with something denied to him. He had "conqueror" in his name for a reason that went far beyond the submission of the other lords.

So it came as a complete shock when he was so bluntly denied when he approached you at one of the numerous banquets hosted by the royal family. At first, Aegon couldn't even process it, the features remained the same with a gentle smile and analyzing eyes and no words uttered. Like a person who was suddenly punched and in the first few seconds didn't understand or simply didn't know how to react. He just narrowed his purple eyes and watched you leave in an elegant bow.

The first time he was seriously denied, you hadn't done it to pique his interest, but rather to preserve your own honor, not wanting to be just another king's case knowing that he would return to Rhaenys at the end of the day. He admired this. If his plans were to push him away, you were not successful, you only made a dangerous obsession settle in your being.

He began to pursue you subtly, with gallant and courteous gestures, he urgently wanted to erase the first impression you had of him. Forcing the Targaryen to reveal his personality beyond the superficial, rambling for countless hours about some common interest and constantly summoning his presence, whether to read to him while I work or simply enjoy his warm presence.

And when his barriers were still not lowered, the king had to resort to more drastic measures, asking for her hand in marriage and making it clear that he would not accept being denied.

You would be softer when you were a wife and had duties towards him. The conqueror thought wrongly. Never in a thousand lifetimes did he expect you to run away. As soon as he found out, Aegon simply went crazy, the image made up of himself falling down the moment he threatened to destroy the entire seven kingdoms again if he didn't get you back.

Stone by stone, leaf by leaf. Everything was meticulously investigated by the countless guards spreading even through the most forgotten places by the gods. The Targaryen king became somewhat paranoid and easily irritated by his disappearance, not even Rhaenys could calm him down or change his mind. It was two years of pure torment.

Ah... When he finally found you in a small house in pentos... Married and obviously pregnant... It was like the world was open beneath your feet again. A loving feeling of betrayal. How dare you? Did you think that pathetic man could love you more than him?! How stupid.

He coldly killed her husband and none of her tears and pleas could change his mind. His heart was partially darkened by his betrayal. He won't forget anytime soon, you'll have to regain his trust to have the slightest amount of freedom. Countless guards will follow you closely, if you are even allowed to leave your quarters.

And your son? Don't worry, Aegon will assume paternity of the child even if it comes with rumors about having deflowered you before the wedding. It didn't matter. He just wouldn't let you mother a bastard or have that other man as a part of your life. Aenys was his heir anyway.

Maegor, The Cruel

You were certainly a very unlucky person to have caught the attention of the Targaryen king who was called cruel. You probably met at an event organized by him to celebrate one of his conquests, reaffirming his power and sovereignty as king, or you were one of his wives' ladies-in-waiting.

Whether you were from a big house, small house or even a commoner. It didn't matter. You were his the moment the king laid eyes on your enchanting figure.

Maegor was a man of few feelings, he didn't truly love any of his wives, it was lust mixed with the rational thought of creating heirs. But you were different, there was something special that made Maegor feel a bubbling sensation in his chest, a pleasant and addictive warmth like he had never felt before. It was something unfamiliar, one that he felt slightly hesitant to demonstrate or how to handle. But he just knew he wanted you and he would have you. At any cost.

Maegor was far from the definition of courteous, he knew little about the gallant arts or gentle love. Therefore, he had little knowledge about the courtship, the little he knew was from his mother's advice, who only knew about these things from the poets who surrounded Rhaenys.

Either way, he is not discreet. He doesn't even make an effort to appear less intimidating than he is. His eyes are fixed on you no matter the moment, his intimidating and darkening presence looming over you like a shadow. Once he even gave him a white fur coat, an animal he himself killed. It was his way of showing his interest. Something raw and rustic, without words, just proves to be worthy of you.

Either way, he wouldn't wait long. The moment he gets tired of waiting and the itch that grows in him is not relieved, he will attack. Demanding her hand in marriage from her, leaving no room for disagreement. He didn't expect you to run away in the middle of the night... Stupid little bird. Did you think he wouldn't come after you?

The man flew into a rage the moment he found out, destroying everything and everyone in his path, no matter if they were his wives, servants or important masters. Everyone should pay for his blinding rage. He turned the seven kingdoms into hell looking for you. A thick layer of blood, smoke, ash and corpse covering every corner of the kingdom.

And when he found you... Ah, dumb little bird, did he think he could hide for another year? Never.

He killed her husband the moment he saw the man, not even bothering to give him a painful death to pay for his crimes. He was as furious as a bull at the sight of any trace of red. He never thought about seriously hurting you, but he would have to punish you in a certain way to put you in your place. But his angry thoughts strayed the moment he caught sight of her swollen belly with a child.

A baby, that could and should be his. It was someone else's... It was an unforgivable betrayal. He could never fully forgive you. He would never forget or leave you alone for even a second.

He wouldn't kill the child, he would keep you away until you gave birth and then pretend that the child belonged to his lady-in-waiting, even if it was his child behind closed doors. It was a good way to keep tabs on you. Do you love your child? So better obey, you don't want something bad to happen, right?

Do not worry, dear. If you want to be a mother and wife so much, who would Maegor be to deny you that? You would be two things very soon.

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon was never a man to love madly, he fell in love a few times. He rolled from bed to bed without a fixed commitment, just looking for momentary fun and vague pleasures. He indulged in his desires without shame. Bad luck for you to have been so captivating. He was hooked on you the moment their eyes met his.

Any slight affection he ever had for other women and men was forgotten. For you he felt love. Real love that went beyond lust. After all, he had never touched you intimately and he already had such overwhelming feelings.What was it if not love? You were his only thought.The first thought when waking up and the last when going to bed.

And Daemon had no intention of hiding his affection. His hands constantly find their way to your shoulders or start from your waist, a touch that lingers on a simple handshake and a look so intense that it would make anyone else tremble in fear.

As expected, rumors were created questioning his honor and how terrible the prince was. When his father went to confront him, Daemon just smiled mischievously and just said he would marry you. To everyone's great surprise, after all, the Targaryen had demonstrated his unhappiness during his first marriage.

But you weren't like that woman uglier than a sheep. You were perfect in every aspect and in the very definition of the word. Something to be admired every day.

It was a strong, stunning blow when you disappeared during the night, your maids only finding cold, wrinkled sheets when they went to wake you up that morning.

Where in the seven hell were you? He would find you... You couldn't run away.

He destroyed, killed, tortured and threatened. He spent days flying with Caraxes to every corner of the seven kingdoms just to find you. Unsuccessfully. A long year without having your favorite addiction... You.

He drowned himself in e wine while you were gone, nursing a bubbling rage and constantly exploding at everyone, scaring even Viserys, who thought he had seen the worst side of his brother.

But nothing lasts forever. He found you. He invaded your home in Essos without hesitation. He didn't kill your husband at first because his stunned mind simply refused to understand that you had betrayed him in such a disgusting way.

But the moment she saw the little newborn baby in her arms. He understood everything.The black sister ran through her pathetic husband without mercy, blood spatter staining his robes in small crimson droplets.The cold, darkened eyes like never before were directed at you.

For a moment you feared for the baby's life, placing the small bundle against your chest to protect it.

"Don't worry, I would never hurt our son." He smiles as he says each word slowly. He would legitimize that child as his and didn't care what he would say. A good way to keep you behaved and not tarnish his bloodline with bastards. Obviously he would love his own children more with you, but he wouldn't show it so openly. You're lucky the child looks so much like you…

[o-sachi]

My Golden Girl ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ Kaiser loves his generous golden girl, but he hates it when people take advantage of her kindness

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; afab reader, no y/n, FLOOF, soft mihya

[🐟]: This takes place before the Blue Lock project, so Kaiser should still be in Germany and practicing with Bastard.

The moon can only shine at night because of the sun.

That's what your relationship is like with Kaiser.

He honestly had no idea where he'd be without you. There were days when he felt like he was slowly losing himself—drowning in the pressure to remain at the top. But as he teeters on the edge, you always come to pull him right back in.

Your sweet words at the end of his day were enough to keep him grounded. As a matter of fact, you barely needed to do much to pacify him. But knowing you—you would go over and beyond for him. Seriously. It puzzles him why someone as pure as you would mess around with someone like him.

But who was he to question you?

"Yo, your girlfriend's been here for like an hour. Have you even seen her already?" Kaiser snaps out of his daydream as the locker room door swings open. It was some guy from his team who he never really bothered to remember the name of. His gaze follows his teammate as he saunters over to his locker.

"Eh... but she's out helping the managers again." That's when his attention was truly caught. "She's what?" "Y'know... handing out bottles and stuff. You should ask her to become a manager too. She'll fit right in." Tsk.

Kaiser shakes his head and grabs the towel off of his head. He aimlessly chucks the piece of fabric to the side and gets up without another word.

His teammate watches—dumbfounded—at the lack of a response. "Hey, Kai-"

But as soon as he spoke, Kaiser was already out of the door.

He wasn't angry or annoyed that you showed up unannounced. Truthfully, he didn't know what he felt. There was a reason why he avoided bringing you or inviting you to his practices.

You were too kind for your own good and the people here aren't shy about taking advantage of you.

Kaiser was stuck between a rock and hard place. One on hand, he loved that you cared enough about him to go out of your way even help the management or even his team. He couldn't bring himself to scold anyone—especially not you. On another, he knew what they were doing to you. They pretended to be all nice and sweet when asking you favors. But don't they have any shame asking so much from you?

Just like what Mr. Forgettable Name said earlier, you were almost like a manager here. But, fuck that. You're supposed to be a guest. You're his girlfriend, so you deserve nothing but the best treatment.

Yet, here he was—watching you as you scurry around, handing water bottles to his... not teammates. What the hell were you even doing giving water to the second string players? Jesus. He wasn't even sure if they were on the second string.

The more he observed, the angrier he became. Someone better hold him back and tell him what he just witnessed wasn't what he thought because one of the players definitely handed you an empty bottle—which, of course, you threw in the trash for him.

Sure, he's probably tired from running all day and yeah, you were closer to the trash bin. But who the fuck does he think he is to ask you of something like that?

He didn't even notice that his legs moved on their own. His body wanted nothing but to walk over to you. Never mind what his heart was telling him.

"Hey."

You spun around, knowing whose voice it was that almost startled you. His bright blue eyes peered down at you and he seemed... a bit pissed.

"Sorry... I know I should've told you that I was coming today, but-" Kaiser sighs heavily, running his tattooed hand through his blonde locks. "Don't apologize. I'm not mad—I just..."

But he was—he was most definitely mad. Just not at you.

It was like the world was testing the limits of his patience today because damn was he not even able to finish his sentence without another person bothering you.

As Kaiser struggled to express himself, one of the managers taps you on your shoulder. She had on the fake smile she always wore whenever she'd ask you a favor.

"Can you go distribute the lunch for the players today? I just have some paperwork to go over. You know how it is... managers get busy~"

Before you could even respond, Kaiser steps forward—putting distance between you and the manager. "And why would she do that? Isn't that your job?"

You grabbed his arm, telling him that it's alright. In a way, his team and the people who manage it have become your friends. You appreciate them for taking care of your boyfriend while you're not there and you're grateful for their warm greetings whenever you walk past any of them.

There wasn't any issue in you helping these people... or so you thought.

The manager smiles nervously at Kaiser, but she doesn't back down. "Well... I mean... if she's willing to do it, right? What's the harm in that?"

Kaiser exhales audibly. This is why he doesn't confront this dynamic. The manager was partially right because his girlfriend was always willing to help no matter what. Now he looked like the bad guy here.

The conversation shifted to an awkward atmosphere. All three of them felt it. But she was the first to break the ice... as usual.

"Mihya, it's alright. I like helping out the team. Consider it as me helping you as well," she says, smiling warmly.

"Baby," he clicks his tongue. "Forgive me, but... how the hell does it help me when you hand out water and food to these third stringers?"

Your eyes widen. "Mihya! Tone it down; they'll hear you."

He scoffs. "So what? Let them hear it."

At this point, the manager had grown quiet, slowly distancing herself from the developing quarrel.

"I've had enough watching people like her," he says, pointing at the manager before she could escape, "take advantage of you."

"It's not your job to hand out lunch boxes to everyone nor is it your responsibility to make sure they're hydrated. Baby—you might as well wipe their sweat for them while you're at it," he adds.

As he released these pent up frustrations, he failed to notice the gradual increase in the volume of his voice. It wasn't just you and the manager hearing it—but everyone else on the field. Even those who were far away, ran over to the commotion.

Kaiser never gave up even a second for you to butt in. "Remember that time they asked you to run to the nearby convenience store to buy God-knows-what? Or that time you had to go with... with... whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is to the hospital?"

"It's Igor," a faint voice reminds him.

"Shut the fuck up!" he retorts. Kaiser sighs deeply, the realization that everyone else was listening finally dawning on him. "What I'm trying to say is that... I'm just tired of seeing you be used like that, especially since I know how pure your heart is and all that," he says, softly.

He wanted the last part to be heard only by you. After all, you were the only one that mattered to him at the moment.

You were... well... staring at him in awe. Speechless. Unmoving. Stunned.

You were clueless to how he felt. Sure, they did ask too much of you. But you didn't think Kaiser was observing you to that degree. Your heart melted at his personal show of affection right in front of everyone.

"Mihya..."

You felt stupid that you could only mutter his name despite everything he had said. But before you could do anything else, his large hand grabs on to your wrist—pulling you along with him. His strides were purposeful and his grasp was firm. You hurriedly shuffled to keep up with his pace.

After gaining some distance from the group, Kaiser halts and turns to look back at them one last time.

"If I see any of you ask a favor from her again—I'll make sure to deal with you."

A promise and a threat.

He yanks you again and continues walking away. Overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, you try to stop him despite his strength. "Hey... slow down. Let's talk... please?"

Kaiser blatantly ignores you, only stopping once you were inside of the facility and away from prying eyes. The firm grip that once wrapped around your wrist was replaced by a gentle caress as he brought your hand to his lips.

"Sorry... I got carried away. You know I can't let them do tha-"

"It's okay. I understand. Thank you for standing up for me," you say, cutting him off.

He blinks a couple of times, surprised at how well you took it. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at my boyfriend protecting me?"

You couldn't help but giggle at him. How silly would it be for you to get angry at him right now? What he did was one of the sweetest things anyone could do for someone; not everyone is brave enough to stand up for their significant other like that.

His look of astonishment was quickly replaced with a small smile. "I guess you're right, baby."

And before you know it, you were already caged in his warm embrace.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[laurorne]

༊*·˚ CRAVING YOUR WARMTH | aegon ii targaryen x targaryen bastard sister!reader

summary: two dragons who seek to move closer for warmth during their grief must remain apart, as they can only hurt one another with their sharp teeth and barely contained flames. though they both share the intentions of a close relationship, they're unable, for reasons they cannot avoid.

content: targaryen incest, angst, allusion of self-mutilation/harm, bastardphobia in westeros, night after intimacy suggested, self-hatred, blood, wonky metaphors and personification, no beta we die like vizzy t, badly written angst, that damn necklace

word count: 1.5k

a/n: let me tell you that i struggle writing angst, but god do i love reading it. i'm like my own self entertaining paradoxical concept and it astounds me

A gentle hand smoothing over his back is what stirs him from the throes of sleep, nails skating along his marked skin softly enough to tickle. He shifts as the hand moves from the expanse of his back up to his hair, rubbing circles into the crown of his head. Twirling bits of hair between deft fingers as she presses a kiss to the slope of his shoulder.

He hums, limbs stretching out clumsily as he rolls onto his side, fingers weak as his hand dances along the goose-down duvet until it reaches her. Her, and her softness, and her warmth.

“Wife.” He’s barely awake, even with the exasperated sigh that comes from his older sister.

“We are not wed, Aegon.” A gentle reminder from soft lips, her eyes taking in his tired demeanour, the curve of his brow.

She brushes the strand of choppy hair from his face, thumb dragging along the apple of his cheek.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, lids finally fluttering open as he stares up at her with those watery eyes. The ones he knew made her weak to suggestion. He lets his hand creep up her calf –where he can still feel the divets of scars from their childhood running through the gardens– until it finds home on the hand she has in her lap, he threads his fingers with hers. The number of rings adorning her fingers was thanks to him: he and his obsession with keeping his older sister glamoured. 

Imported Dornish rings that gleamed with the heat of the sun, Essosi ornate cloth and dresses that were far from the modesty of Court, hair pins adorned with pearls from the Summer Isles, and an intricate necklace crafted from the smelted metal of a Valyrian sword, inlaid with gemstones he had pulled from the Red Keeps vaults.

She was wearing it now, the stones gleaming under the sun that spotted through the lace curtains of her room. The engraved details scatter the few beams of light they catch like dew drops upon spider silk. The stones dangle between the valley her breasts create, the smallest of them twirls some intricate dance as she shifts. Like molten silver, it fits her without any of the stiffness metal should have. 

“We should be.” He glances down at his hand intertwined with hers and watches her thumb rub over his —in the way she always has ever since childhood— it makes him all the more rueful.

He’s hopeful, far beyond it. His bones ache and his head throbs from a swelling hangover, and he feels his throat ache something terrible at its use. His eyes trail from their hands to her face, he wants anything aside from sorrow to be there.

It’s worse. 

Her brows are furrowed as she stares down at him with pity, oh how he wishes it wasn’t pity.

“Oh, sweet boy.” She pulls her hand from his grasp and holds his face in her gentle hands with all the care he needs. “Some things, they just can’t be.”

His lip curls, a pathetic smile covering his visage as he cups the backs of her hands in his own. “But they could. Helaena would not care, she loathes our marriage. As do I. We could take Valyrian vows on Dragonstone. Just as our sister and uncle have. We could leave.”

“Aegon.” A wistful breath of his name, pained and twisted with grief of things that never were and never will.

“We don’t need to stay. Just you and I, riding atop Sunfyre. Across the Narrow Sea.” He moves onto his knees, staring into her wet doe-like eyes as he speaks. He doesn’t leave her an opportunity to doubt him. Doesn’t allow her to pull away as he keeps her hands on his jaw.

Her lips twitch and so do her fingers against his. “Aegon, don’t be foolish.”

“You mustn’t know what you mean to m-”

“Aegon, please.” She tries to pull away now, but he winds his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and presses forward. Wine-stained lips crushing against the curve of her nose, fluttering across her brow like the gentle wings of a cotton moth as it devours silks and linen allied— devourer of all things beautiful and plain. 

He drags his lips to hers finally, soaking her up in a way only someone as depraved as he could. It’s like stretching out upon a rock after not feeling the son for years, like stripping yourself of shackles you’ve worn since birth. Her lips are chapped, a split in her lips from all the worrying she does to the poor thing scratches along his upper. He surges forward, pulling her so fully against him that it fills some empty part of him, like a puzzle piece that’s never been slotted into place. But oh —how it has— and how it always disappears just as quickly as it comes to him. He licks at her bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth and shudders out a breath as she reciprocates. Her lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they finally shut, as she cups his neck and presses her butterfly kisses onto him, licks into his mouth as she breathes hotly across his face in a way only Aegon can enjoy.

He nips at her tongue accidentally, overexcited and eager as he is. And that seems to bring her back from whatever hole he had dragged her into. But he persists, hand drifting down to the smooth metal of her necklace as he thumbs at a jewel. He tries to savour her presence even as her face scrunches and her fingers fist the hairs behind his ears. It nearly pains Aegon, with the way his head tilts away from her just slightly, Adams apple jumping against pale skin as he stares oh-so adoringly, heady breaths stinking of wine fanning her bruised lips.

“We could start a family in Essos. As many children as you want.” He desperately reaches for her again.

“Aegon.” 

“A home in Braavos, on the beach. Where we could lo-”

A hiccuped sob that withers in her throat is what stops him, punches the wind from his lungs.

Her lips are pursed and her hands have loosed upon his hair and move to cup his ruddy cheeks. Nails pressing into the flesh of his face hazardously. His eyes are dark and his lips part as he stares up at her, he sees the tears edging along her waterline. That deep frown she has when she’s trying not to cry, whether it's about something he had done or when she’s ordered by their Grandsire to stop her hysterics.

“Aegon,” It’s a sullen whisper as she lets his face go entirely, fingers slipping down his chest before they land in her lap again. “I am not a trueborn daughter. I will never be. I am not right in the mind. I will birth lunatics and monsters and wailing death. You can’t love me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, for once he has no sharp-tongued quip or comment. He pushed her from a height, just when she had finally reached the top of her spire. He retracts, fingers loosening from the grip he had on her pale hair, and lets her fall back onto the plush of her bed as she stares up at him like he’s burnt her. Like he’s dragged a dagger across the soft of her flesh and told her he never loved her. She pushes herself away, curling in on herself as tears cut through the flush of her cheeks. A wobbly exhale, and another as he drags a hand through her hair.

Her fingers dance down her neck and across the skin of her arms where they find home on the pale scars marring the upper parts of her arms. He can see her fingertips quivering with the urge to dig. To pull at chords of muscle beneath her skin and scratch at her bones. She had told him about things she saw. Things that hunted at the edge of her vision and scattered when she went looking. Dreams that came to the waking world with her. A pale man with the stench of darkness seeping from his pores.

“I love yo-” He leans forward to comfort her. 

“You don’t.”

“I know that I love you.”

“You know nothing, Aegon.” She pulls herself to the edge of the bed and drags herself to stand, the silk bedsheets slip away and her goosebumps raise upon her bruise-marred skin, she’s as bare as the day she was born. Her throat is too tight and her necklace feels heavy as she stumbles to the secret passage, she slips from the room unbidden and leaves a smudge of blood on the wooden grain of the bookcase as Aegon sits in her bed. Salty tears of his own roll down his face as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

[chosopie]

SUGAR BABY - TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji loves a woman with big bills.

You came from a family of lawyers who owned a big law firm in the city. Your whole life had already been set the moment you were born, and like the rest of your family, you became a lawyer who could easily earn six figures like it just falls from the tree in your huge backyard.

Currently, you were still in law school when you met Toji from a bar.

“Where do you think you’re going, bastard?” The security yelled, using all his efforts to push the big muscular man away from the door. “If you’re gonna drink here, make sure you can pay the fucking bill.”

“I’ll handle it,” you tapped the security guard, waving your card at him. “It’s on me.” You winked at Toji, and in return, he flashed you a wide and cunning grin.

“Damn, lady. Do I know you?” Toji asked.

“No, but let’s change that.” You smile back.

Every Friday night, you’d meet up at the same bar and you’d always treat him to drinks and food. As you both grew closer, you’d meet up at other places like the mall so he could watch you shop.

“Do you want anything?” You’d ask while your eyes remained fixated at the handbag you were checking.

“Why do you ask? Are you going to buy me something?”

“Yes. Just show me,” you nonchalantly said like you could buy the whole store with the wave of your black card.

Toji’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open. “Anything?”

“Yep.”

In the end, you ended up buying a Rolex for him.

“How could I ever repay you?” Toji thought.

There was one thing Toji was proud to offer you—his cock. He was very much aware of how much he was packing. He had a generous length and girth that would surely satisfy you once you get used to its size. It was a perfect gift for you.

His offer was to let you use his dick to get off. He became your sex toy or personal dildo. You’d ride him at your own pace while all he did was watch in amusement. He would occasionally run his big calloused hands over your waist or help you go up and down on his cock when your thighs start shaking form exhaustion.

“You like being used like this?” You teased.

“Yeah, so when am I getting my car?” He groaned as you rode him at a slow and agonizing pace.

“I already told you, the newest model will be coming next week. Be patient or I’m not letting you cum anymore,” you warned him through gritted teeth. You hissed at the feeling of him stretching you out.

Other times, he’d pester you in a special way in order to get what he wanted. His face would be buried between your thighs, tongue slowly lapping at your wet cunt like a kitten.

“Baby… my co-worker Shiu has these new Ferragamo’s. Can I get those too?” He lowly said, his breath fanning your pussy.

“If you can make me cum four times then, maybe I’d let you.”

With his skilled tongue, he was able to fulfill his task, leaving you breathless and shaking.

When you would come home stressed from work, you’d let him fuck you and do all the work. Toji was a person-pleaser when it came to you. It wasn’t just for the gifts and money, but also because he was a sucker for your sweet praises.

“This fine?” He picks a medium and consistent pace, giving you room to ease up around his dick.

“Mhm,” you’d hum in response, your eyes closed as you quickly fell into a relaxed and satisfied state.

Toji was quite the company. He was a pretty thing to look at and his dick worked magic for you. You were definitely going to keep him around for a long time. After all, he was quite the investment.

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[dried-mushroom]

My Queen

Aemond 'one-eyed' Targaryen x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, incest (uncle & niece), oral sex (m receiving), public handjob, fingering, missionary sex, porn with plot, short slow burn, Aemond is head over heels for you, soft! Aemond

Enjoy!!!!!

You were the firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Harwin Strong. No stark resemblance to the knight as do your siblings, as you were the only one born with silver Targaryen hair. This made you stand out compared to your brothers, as their heritage was a common topic for gossip, and they did not have a single feature from Ser Laenor, your mother's betrothed. You were still considered a true Targaryen and not a bastard child nonetheless.

It had been years since your family had been back to Kings landing, years since you'd seen your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. You had less than fond memories of the older prince as a teen, he was always trying to get you alone and mentioning how he could satisfy you better than any other lord or knight. You often ignored his words but sometimes he was just too vile to bare.

His brother on the other hand intrigued you. He was much quieter than Aegon, but he spoke to you often. Usually, it was only small talk when you ran into the prince. You honestly didn't mind, as you may have developed a liking for the younger prince. What you weren't expecting was he already wanted you for himself.

The clearest memories between you and Aemond were when your brothers and your uncle decided to tease him about his lack of claiming a dragon. You knew how cruel Jace and Luke could be, as they enjoyed making your life harder so to speak. You lectured them both when you found out what they did to Aemond and searched for the young prince.

When you found him perched against an old oak tree, with his head in his hands, you sat next to him. As he turned to face you, you could see how red and raw his eyes were, obviously from crying. You tried to apologize for your brother's behaviour but he didn't want your pity, instead, he told you not to worry, and that he would make sure he gained a dragon. He didn't enjoy being harsh towards you and apologized later that day by gifting you a book with a note inside.

Another less fond memory of your prince was the night of Lady Laena's funeral. The entire day had an aura of gloom, and you could tell the tension was tightening between your family and Aemond's. Rhaenyra and Alicent were clawing at each other's throats every time they were close and the rumour that your mother had birthed four bastards was certainly a rumour that the HighTowers were eager to entertain, just so that your mother was seen as an untrustworthily whore.

Yet you remained close to Aemond, usually strolling around the grounds of the castle together or watching him train to duel with his brother and Ser Criston. But that dreadful night something changed, that night he finally got one of the two things he always wanted; to claim a dragon. Vhagar, Laena's dragon was sleeping peacefully until Aemond woke her, and through his bravery and her compliance, He successfully bonded with her by commanding her to calm herself and serve him in High Valyrian.

He quickly got the hang of it and rides the dragon around High Tide before landing. Vhagar was the biggest dragon in Westeros and the most powerful of any dragons the Targaryen's had. Whilst his little flying escapade, Laena's daughters noticed his absence and could hear the familiar roar coming from their mother's dragon, so they rushed over to Jace and Luke to help them find who had stolen the dragon, which was meant for the eldest Velarylon girl, Rhaena.

You were resting against a cold stone wall, seemingly fazed, when your younger brothers and cousins rushed up to you and told you about your uncle. You suddenly recalled hearing the familiar noise of the dragon and Aemond had excused himself from you as he 'felt ill' earlier. You trailed behind the four as they went to inside the castle searching for Aemond. When they spotted the young prince, they all started arguing over who had a claim to the dragon. You stayed behind them, not entirely wanting to be there.

Without a second thought, Rhaena hit Aemond for an insult he had said to her about her mother, but the latter was stronger and threw her to the ground. Your brothers quickly joined in the fight. Jace pushed Aemond to the ground and he broke Luke's nose somehow. You felt conflicted, about who to defend; either your brothers or the boy you've liked for what seemingly felt like eons.

You tried to get in between Luke and Aemond to break them up. Aemond wasn't thinking straight and accidentally hit you with a rock he had in his hand, to use on Luke. As soon as he realised what he did he dropped the rock and started apologising profusely, but Jace thought it was the perfect time to get revenge on the prince for hurting his big sister and stealing their cousin's dragon, as he threw sand into the boy's eyes and Luke slashed the boy in the right eye, blinding him.

You quickly snapped out of your pain haze and quickly rushed over to the wailing boy, whose face was now covered in blood. You couldn't believe what your brothers had done. Everything became a blur after that moment, you remember blood soaking your light-coloured dress and guiding Aemond through the castle to his mother. Him clutching you tightly, still muttering apologies to you, your relatives spewing their disgust at you for aiding the prince.

The last time you and the prince spent time was the most memorable. It was the day your mother remarried to her uncle, Daemon. You, Jace, and Luke were told by your mother that you all would be leaving for dragonstone and to say your goodbyes, the handmaidens would pack your belongings but be ready to leave King's landing before noon. This sudden news upset you heavily as you would be separated from Aemond and your friends for God knows how long. You wandered around the castle soaking in each and every detail as if it were the last. You made your way to Aemond's chambers, worried about his reaction to your leaving.

The both of you got incredibly closer ever since that fight, seemingly you both were joined at the hip, always sharing longing glances that teetered on the border of platonic. Once you reached the door and knocked, the familiar face of your blonde prince greeted you, eagerly letting you inside his room. You picked at your cuticles, not wanting to share the news with Aemond. He noticed the disdain on your face, and spoke "What's wrong, Princess Y/N?" you sighed, "Mother wants me and my brothers to travel to dragon stone for some time, she told us to say our goodbyes and to be ready to leave at midday. I'm so sorry." His smile faulted, as he took in your words.

He felt almost ill, his beloved was leaving so abruptly, he didn't know what to say, as he knew he couldn't sway Rhaenyra. Without a thought, he closed the gap between you both, slowly pressing his lips to yours, in a tender kiss. He gripped the fabric of your dress, either in a plea to hold you even closer or to keep you with him even longer. You couldn't help but feel something hard pressing into your thigh, your cheeks were ablaze when you realised what that something was.

You broke the kiss, knowing you didn't have much time left. He must have realised and quickly retrieved something from one of his drawers. It was a small bracelet, decorated in emeralds, the Hightower colour. You couldn't help but smile a little as he slipped it around your wrist. You gave him one last peck before saying the last words you'd say to him for the next six years. "Please write to me, or maybe even visit, I won't forget you, I beg you to do the same, goodbye my prince." "I will my princess, don't doubt it. Goodbye y/n." You left his chambers, not realising his brother was waiting outside his door.

Aegon grabbed your arm tightly and whispered in your ear. "You're leaving? fuck sake, why can't Rhaenyra just send the twats you call brothers away, she really wants to torture me. " You tried wiggling out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't let go, "You know, I get so fucking hard when you cross my mind, I can't stop thinking about you swollen with my seed, being my little whore and no one el-" Aegon's perverted wishes were quickly diminished as your younger brother called out your name from the entrance of the corridor. Aegon released your arm but said one last thing, "Goodbye my betrothed." You knew that was a sick joke, Aemond had already told you that Aegon and Helena were already betrothed. He just really wanted to fuck with you. You muttered a goodbye with gritted teeth and rushed towards your brother and out of the castle.

Six Years Later:

Your mother and Daemon had decided that it would be best to visit Kings Landing once again, for your ill grandsire and to reaffirm Jace as the heir to the driftwood throne. You wouldn't mind being back at King's landing once again, this time as an 18-year-old woman, you were soon destined to be betrothed to some lord or knight. Another reason would be to see familar faces, such as Helaena, both of you were close. The Velayron girls you missed as well, as they were always sweet to you.

The two men you were dreading to see were Aegon and Aemond. Aegon for the most obvious reasons, he is a fucking pervert. As for Aemond, he in a way broke your heart. He promised to write to you but never acted on that promise, you had written three letters to the prince but he never wrote back. All those years, not one fucking word to you.

At first, you were deeply hurt but you came to understand that you could not let such a foolish thing belittle you as you were to be heir to the iron throne once your mother became Queen, you could not be seen as weak. You begged your mother to let you ride dragon back to the castle but she insisted to take a carriage, to your disappointment. Later that morning you all set off.

When the sight of the familiar castle came into your vision, you became an internal puddle of emotions, relief for finally being back home, happiness for finally being able to reunite with old friends and uneasiness for seeing the boy you loved, a man. Once the carriage abruptly stopped, you all stepped out and you let out a sharp exhale as all the Targaryen decorations that you remembered had been replaced by religious symbols.

Your stepfather made a few comments about Queen Alicent and her father was behind that, humourous but wasn't appropriate. You all were greeted and You, Jace and Luke were allowed to wander the grounds for a while. You found yourself walking near where the duelling practice was taking place and heard the smooth familiar voice belonging to Aemond.

"Nephews, You've come to train?"

You couldn't help but sigh gently when you saw how attractive Aemond had become. His hair was twice as long (more to pull on), and he was more toned and adorned with a black eye patch from the accident between him and your brother. As you walked closer to Aemond and ser Criston, you took in how skilful Aemond had become with a sword.

You joined your brothers and when Aemond saw you for the first time in years he almost forgot what he was even doing. That's how mesmerizing you are to him. Once he managed to make the Knight yield he strode towards you three. Aemond hadn't seen you in six years and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, how your beautiful blonde hair framed your face, how your eyes were just as vibrant as they were and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger over your figure in your black & red dress, how he could get a glimpse of your cleavage as he towered over you.

"My niece, how I have missed you."

His tone was sultry and he gave your hand a quick kiss before giving your brothers a nasty look.

"Jace. Luke. Can you give me and your sister a moment alone?"

They raised their eyebrows but walked away leaving the both of you alone. He sighed before grabbing both of your hands into his.

"My dear y/n, Before you speak, listen to me. I never wanted to break that promise I made to you all those years ago. Alas, my mother had other thoughts, she forbade me from any contact with you."

"But-But why? I never did anything to offend her?"

He knew how you felt, his mother was a confusing bitch. Wanting to place Aegon, a drunk who regularly commits infidelity, as King on the iron throne. Instead, he believed he himself should have a claim to the throne. He was the one who studied history and philosophy. He was the one who trained with a sword. Oh, what he would truly do to be King and have you by his side as his Queen.

"Her reasoning seemed uncouth, as it was since you were the daughter of Rhaenyra and bare no resemblance to Ser Laenor. My mother decided that you would be unfit for me. But I couldn't go one day all those years without a thought of you trickling into my mind. Hm, you're still wearing that?"

You looked down at your wrist and couldn't help it as the blush rose to your cheeks at his words, it was the gift he left you on your last day spent together, he felt an odd sense of pride knowing you still cherished that simple bracelet. He pulled you into a tight embrace with your hands still in his grip. His large arms wrapped around you almost lovingly, and he rested his head upon yours. He murmured into your hair but before you could ask what he had said you both were interrupted by a sharp feminine voice.

"Aemond! come here. We need to talk"

And with that, Aemond sighed before releasing you to follow his cunt of a mother. You turned around to find Daemon smirking at you and laughing as he walked away, and you could tell that today would be interesting, to say the least.

Once the clock struck midday, most of everyone had made their way to the throne room to start their petitions for the heir to drift mark. Your grandsire was too sick to sit on the throne so Otto and Alicent were the ones listening. You followed your family and stood with your younger brothers. Once Vaemond, your technical uncle had proposed he be the heir to the driftwood throne which had made your entire family worry as you all knew that the Hightowers were going to do anything in their power to weaken your family. But you couldn't help but smile when you noticed how Aemond was looking at you from across the room.

When it was finally time for Rhaenyra to speak for your brother and as soon as she started the doors opened to the throne. You all turned and saw your grandfather, struggling to walk down the stairs to his place on the throne. Daemon helped his brother onto the iron throne before letting him speak. The king had reaffirmed your brother's place on the driftwood throne and you were extremely happy for him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him how happy you were for him. You couldn't see how Aemond balled his hands into tight fists of jealousy, he didn't enjoy seeing you touching any other males, nonetheless, the boy who took his eye when they were younger.

After that gruesome turn of events, you were expected to go to a family dinner, your family and the Hightowers together how could that possibly go wrong? That evening you had walked into the dining room, lit up by numerous glowing candles. You noticed how almost everyone had been seated and there was an empty chair beside Aemond. Once you sat down, you saw how he looked at you, abashedly adoringly. He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I can't wait for tonight, I have something special planned for you. I know you'll like it."

You shivered as his warm breath trickled down your neck. You both shot back up once you heard Alicent cough loudly. You both noticed how Luke was staring almost disgustedly at the scene in front of him, but Aemond just smirked at him knowingly. In the middle of Alicunt saying grace, you felt a warm hand on your skirts. Your eyes flicked open to meet Aemond's closed ones, he seemed awfully proud of himself. What he wasn't expecting was to feel your hand gently brush against his growing erection. You watched how his breath hitched as his mother finished saying grace. As each family member conversed with one another you were trying not to concentrate on the hand trailing up your inner thigh to your arousal.

"So y/n have you been betrothed yet? I have just never seen you with a suitor yet."

Helaena's words broke you out of your haze, you stumbled around your words.

"Uh, not yet haven't. I feel as if men just are not so attracted to me."

You didn't notice Aemond's slight disappointment at your words, as you knew how much he adored you, inside and out.

"Well I'm sure you'll find someone soon, don't worry marriage isn't so appealing as it seems"

The subtle insult to Aegon made you laugh, a sound Aemond treasured. He truly enjoyed seeing you happy, he also wanted to see the noises of pleasure you'd make, squirming on his cock. He took his middle finger and trailed it over your underwear, just over your wet slit. You let out a quiet mewl but contained yourself quickly as you remembered where you were, you glared at Aemond but found him already looking at you. As food was brought out one plate by one, you took the opportunity to seek a small sliver of revenge. When a servant placed a whole roasted pig in front of the both of you, bad taste in your opinion. You popped open Aemond's pants and slipped your hand inside and into his undergarments to pull out his already leaking cock. You both were concealed by the meal in front of you and the large white tablecloth.

You lazily stroked his cock, every so often you'd spread the pre-cum gathered on his tip, making him grip your thigh hard in desperation. He honestly didn't think you'd do this to him, he only had imagined you doing such things to him in his more...personal fantasies. What he was planning to do under the table would have to wait but he'd repay you back generously. After some looming stares, your grandfather spoke for one last thing before he passed, to have one evening with his family with their grievances put aside. Your mother had commended Alicent on her loyalty to her father and her devotion to her husband and Alicent had returned her graciousness, saying she would make a fine queen. Everyone drank from their cup. You kept your pace while everyone seemed finally happy to be in each other's presence, everyone was smiling and laughing with one another, unknowingly witnessing you jerk off your uncle under the table.

Aemond knew he wasn't going to last long as you were so good for him. He loved how you were pleasuring him, and he honestly loved how no one even noticed the debauched action you both were doing. You stroked him one more time before he let out an extremely loud groan and he came, warm spurts all over your hand. You sighed internally and meet the disturbed faces of your family. They all knew what you had just done to Aemond and how Aemond fully enjoyed it. Without a second thought he put himself away, dragged you out of your chair and out of the room. The entire room was silent until Aegon laughed loudly and congratulated his brother earning multiple stares of disapproval.

You and Aemond ran out out of earshot and leant against the cold wall of a stairwell, breathless. You couldn't help but laugh about the situation you both put yourselves in, rightfully you both just scarred your entire family and knew the lectures you were bound to receive the next day. The first one to speak was Aemond, stumbling around, trying to figure what he would say until what he had spend all day planning popped into his head.

"Thank you my princess. I truly enjoyed that, shall I repay the favor?"

"What are you offering my prince?"

Aemond took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. He met your soft gaze before leading you up the stairs into his chambers. When he opened the door, you saw a simple (choice of flower) on the edge of the bed next to a small wrapping of parchment paper. You wondered how in all of kings landing how he knew your favourite flower. He guided you towards the bed and sat down, you subconsciously played with the petals of the flower now in your lap. Aemond places the small wrapped into your hand,

"Open it, I know you'll like it."

You took Aemond's words and carefully unwrapped the gift. You couldn't believe it, it was a beautiful ring, gold with small emeralds engraved on the sides.

"My dear y/n, Will you take me? be my Queen?"

You nodded eagerly as you pressed your lips to his.

"Of course my King."

He pulled you into his lap, his hands wrapped around you deliciously. You couldn't help but moan as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He had a tight grip on your skirts, pulling you closer to the hardness in his pants. He broke the kiss to trial small bites over your neck, leaving a purple trail in his wake. He couldn't help himself but grind you down on his lap, trying to get as much friction as he could. You were more than happy to reprociate. He mumbled curses under his breath as he layed you down onto the soft sheets, taking in your debauched beauty. He slowly unzipped your dress, pulling it off completely, leaving you only in a pair of undergarments. He could feel his cock twitch just looking at you, and he was on his knees infront of you, and lazily stroked himself through his trousers, tempting himself.

He quickly made work of his vest and the white shirt underneath. He was about to get rid of his pants but before he could even reach the button, he felt your mouth against his bulge, his hips bucked against you at the warm feeling. He squeezed his eyes shut as you pulled out his cock once again and this time wrapped your mouth around his tip. He moaned in ecstasy at foreign feeling, he couldn't help but thrust into your mouth, trying to chase more. You braced both your hands onto his thighs as you took more of his dick. He absolutely loved you like this; you were so beautiful it hurt. You could tell by his stuttering hips that it wouldn't be long until he came, you gave him one more long lick up his shaft and pulled his weeping cock out of your mouth. You could see the slight disappointment on his face but you reassured him.

"I want you to cum in me."

He groaned when he heard those debauched words leave your pretty mouth. He couldn't wait to ruin you. You laid back down, and he laid himself above you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He slowly rubbed the tip of his cock languidly over your glistening slit, teasingly.

You whimpered, already too stimulated for his teasing, "please"

"Please what? You need to use your words."

"Please. I need you to fuck me."

Without a second thought, he slowly pushed his hips forward, entering you, you let out a gasp at the feeling of absolute fullness. Aemond let out a shaky breath, finally getting to feel you after longing for you for years. Aemond begun to thrust his hips quickly, You arched your back, as lewd sounds erupted from your mouth and cunt as the pleasure increased.

Groans escaped Aemond as he could feel your cunt squeezing him so tight, his platinum locks framed your face as he continued his ministrations. You could feel the tip of his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust, he tantalizingly dragged his cock out and in, pressing deeper and Aemond let one of his hands wander to your clit, fumbling the bundle of nerves in delicate circles

Aemond ducked his head between your tits, licking the mounds and swirling around your bouncing nipples. They grew more sensitive. He pinched one nipple and took the other in his toothy mouth, nibbling and sucking at your flesh.

"Oh fuck Aem, I think I'm going to cum."

Aemond practically whimpered against you, a beautiful sound, he broke away from your chest,

"Cum on my cock, my Queen."

The combination of the abuse on your pussy and tits, that tight coil in your stomach finally fucking snapped and you gushed, all over Aemond's cock and naval. It didn't take a minute more for Aemond to fill you up with his seed, you felt the warm spurts of his cum inside you and couldn't describe the feeling you felt, was it adoration? Was it love? you couldn't tell as he slipped out of you, leaving your pussy clenching at nothing and he laid beside you. You rested your head on his chest and gazed up into his eye, he whispered lovingly;

"I cannot wait until we are married on Dragonstone and you swell with our children."

You let yourself fall asleep unaware of the arguments that you and Aemond will deal with in the morrow.

The end

This was a draft from last year but since Hotd season 2 will be released I knew I NEEDED to post this. Hope y'all like it.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Friday Night Entertainment (+18)

Time written- 11:05 p.m

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut

“C’mon pretty girl, jus’ like that.”

His rich, gravely voice always provided the proper encouragement, surging with pure arousal as his broad hands settled along your hips. His gaze remained ever so mesmerized with your beautiful, bouncing body, the loud contact of your thighs against his, amplified by your glistening juices after properly fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you.

You were a sight to the man slumped back against the cushions of his couch. Sweat dampened curls merely obscuring his vision of your lust dappled skin, love bites crowding your flush skin like an exotic choker.

Crescent moons along your hips from his hands alone, not to get him started with various hand prints. The view of those gorgeous, bouncing tits made it harder for Jason to resist, suckling a breast into his mouth as your lingering strength wavered, resorting you to merely rocking against his lap.

You were tired, well fucked out since the second he pulled you on top of the couch. The man couldn’t have bothered less to get his own pants off, merely unbuckling himself with a quick hand before smacking the tip of his fat, heavy cock against your quivering cunt.

At the start, the living room was filled with a chorus of loud moans, followed by a seemingly endless Clink! Clink! Clink! of his belt buckle with every thrust into your perfect pussy.

Now, your chest flattened against his, your lungs gasping for warm air as Jason’s hand reached down your body, guiding his stiff, soaked cock from your hole to rub against your folds. The groove of his tip nearly teasing your throbbing clit with each intentional rock of his hips.

“I know, baby. Oh, I know,” he cooes against your quivering lips before kissing them, noses brushing against one another while spending a second taking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

Your muscles ached for rest, trembling with nearly every few seconds after finishing three times, to Jason’s delight. How he was able to hold out so long was incredible, watching you writhe through thick lashes as you completely soak through the fabric of his boxers and jeans, but he knew he wasn’t going to last forever.

On a good night, he would’ve last just a bit longer, but now, he was tempted enough to almost go easy on you.

“Just one more,” Jason mutters, making the effort to maintain your gaze with a slight head tilt. “Come on, repeat after me. Just one more.”

“Just—“

You failed on the spot with a quivering cry, hips nearly jolting at his unsuspecting fingers pressed against your abused nub, purposely rolling the pearl along the calloused pad of his thumb before casually raising it to his lips, brushing off your sweet essence along his tongue.

“I’m waiting.” He states. What a bastard.

“Just one more!” You immediately whine out, your overstimulated embers growing a new, small hungry frame only he could appease and satisfy.

“Fuck, Jason. Just- just one more… please.”

Oh, you just had to throw in a please.

“That’s my girl,” Jason smirks, shifting his thighs slightly before reinforcing his hold on your hips, the sounds of wet skin resounding against each other growing considerably loud in seconds, fucking into you with a newfound, vigorous staccato.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU'RE PLAYING WITH FIRE, LITTLE ONE"

I love this story so much, I think is one of the bests I've written in my whole life (I've been writting since 2018)

I mainly wrote this because (I need Sergei to fuck me so hard I can even be able to walk for a week) I love Kraven so much

I hope you like it!

The hunter knew he was being sought.

He could smell the police dogs running deep into the woods looking for his scent. His father, despite being a bastard, had taught him well.

He hid his trail easily, and slipped with the speed of a panther and the stealth of a fox through the trees.

He made his way through the woods until he reached a thick area, where the bushes were thicker. He hid there and waited for the dogs to go in the opposite direction. He had stuck an arrow with his blood into a distant tree, so that the animals would change course and follow the decoy instead of him.

He felt the vibration of their paws against the ground as they ran to where he had left the arrow. The prison guards rushed to follow the dogs, at which point the hunter took advantage to come out of hiding.

He reached for his bow. She placed an arrow on the string and prepared to shoot at the slightest noise out of the ordinary. Thanks to her heightened sense of hearing she could hear the gurgling of water in a nearby river. She walked there, paying attention to her surroundings.

If there was a river there, that meant there were animals nearby. She didn't feel particularly hungry, but she had to hunt anyway to have something to eat in the coming days. She was on the run, she couldn't make any mistakes. Any mistake would cause her position to be discovered, and she wasn't willing to return to that prison.

She would never be locked up again

Never again

She walked for ten long minutes until she made her way between two trees. In front of her was the river she had heard before. She approached slowly, paying attention to her surroundings. The river was in a clearing, an open place where she could easily be attacked. She held the bow in her hands, while she leaned down and drank a long drink of water.

He splashed some more on his face, cooling his hair as well. When he finished he shook his head to get rid of the excess water, like dogs did.

That was when he heard it, a cracking of branches behind his back. He turned quickly with the arrow ready to be fired, but stopped when he saw her.

A woman held a wicker basket in her hands. She watched him for a moment with curiosity reflected in her dark eyes. He saw no fear in her expression, only respect and something else he couldn't identify.

She was probably wondering who he was and what he was doing in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. He slowly lowered the weapon, although he remained alert just in case. He didn't trust anyone, even if that someone was a girl who looked like she had never broken a plate in her entire life.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Who are you?"

-My name is Ilia, I live here - she answered overwhelmed, shaking her head before pointing to a place in front of them hidden behind the trees - I mean, my house is there - he explained - it's not far - he added - look, I don't know who you are or what happened to you, but whatever it is, I can help you

-I don't need your help - he argued seriously - I can take care of myself

-I have no doubt that's true - she murmured, staring at him - even so, I won't leave you here alone in the middle of the forest - she nodded - follow me

She started walking, but he didn't move. He watched her for a few seconds without saying anything. She turned to him again.

-It won't be long before it gets completely dark - she said - and when that happens, the wolves come out to hunt - she shrugged - they wouldn't do anything to you, but they would devour me at the first opportunity. I don't feel like dying today, honestly

"I wouldn't let them get close to you," he said very seriously, holding her gaze. "They'd have to kill me first."

"That's very kind of you," she admitted, while her cheeks were blushing. Sergei didn't know if it was because of him or because of the cold that was beginning to be felt in the air.

The hunter followed her closely, covering her back. He didn't know why, but ever since he had seen her, he felt the strong need to protect her. He shook his head to push those thoughts away. She slipped into the gap between two trees, and he followed her.

The landscape in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen before. A small wooden house stood in front of them. He thought it was funny that there was an entrance door, since only she lived there. Still, he thought it was a nice detail, as if somehow the house was complete that way.

A small garden full of white and red flowers covered the ground in front of them. They walked down the narrow path in the middle. He gently pushed the door open and entered. He motioned for her to do the same.

He ducked his head so as not to bump into the wooden doorway. The house was simple, a small home with everything necessary for living. Ilia walked over to the fireplace and threw in several logs that were lying next to it to rekindle the fire. She turned to look at him as she used a poker to stir the embers.

-You can leave your stuff there if you want -she pointed to a spot next to the door-

He nodded, leaving his fur coat and bow leaning against the wall. He felt his thigh, making sure his knife was still there. He walked over to her slowly, looking at the decor.

"You have a very cozy house," he said, and she gave a shy smile.

"Thank you," she said. "It's not luxurious, but I have everything I need." She put down the poker and wiped the ash on the knees of the jeans she was wearing. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate. I'm freezing," she said, rubbing her hands together to warm up. "Do you want one?"

The hunter couldn't remember the last time someone treated him so kindly

Like a human being

He didn't feel like it, but before he could think about it any longer, he found himself nodding slowly as he said:

"I could use something warm," he smiled gratefully.

She nodded and walked to the kitchen. The space between the living room and the kitchen was open, so he could see her preparing the chocolate. She took a bottle of milk out of the fridge and poured some into a saucepan.

She placed it on the fire and waited a few seconds before adding the ounces of chocolate. Then she stirred the contents with a wooden spoon. The smell of chocolate filled the air. He closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma. It had been a long time since he had smelled such homely smells.

He watched as she stopped stirring and put a lid on the saucepan. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail with the help of a rubber band she wore on her wrist. The skin of her neck was exposed to him. Unable to help himself, his gaze slid over her, wondering how it was possible for someone to look so pure and attractive at the same time.

As if she had felt his gaze, she turned around. Their gazes met for a moment, before she broke eye contact.

"It need to rest a little," she said to somehow fill the silence between them.

He nodded, as his gaze returned to the photographs that were placed on the fireplace. He noticed that most of them were of the forest they were in, although there were some of a city he didn't recognize. He reached out to see one in which a horse could be seen running.

-"Did you take it?" -he asked, showing it to her. She nodded as she approached with her arms crossed over her chest-

-Yes -she confirmed, her cheeks turning red again, a gesture that the hunter found endearing- I'm passionate about photography -she confessed- sometimes when night falls I like to go out and try to photograph some wild animal -she looked up at him- that's what I was doing when you found me -she pointed at the wicker basket that was now on the kitchen counter- I always carry some bait with me to attract them -she laughed nervously- it must be that they don't like this meat, because none of them has ever come close

-It depends on the animal you want to attract, the bait is different -he explained, looking at her out of the corner of his eye- What animal do you want to photograph?

-A wolf -he answered quickly- they terrify me, but I think that getting to photograph one of them would be like having overcome that fear, you know? -she probed, he nodded understanding what she meant-

-I could help you -she smiled half-sidedly- I'm good with animals, especially wild ones

-Aren't you afraid of them? -she asked looking at him curiously-

-No -she answered- we could say that I have a kind of gift

-I would like not to be afraid of them -she murmured- it would be nice to photograph them without having to worry about them ripping off my arm

-Fear is a neurological impulse in the brain that helps keep the brain tense and alert -he explained- it doesn't have to be negative if you don't want it to be -he whispered- you will learn to control it -he said- I will teach you

-Okay -she nodded, losing herself for a moment in his blue eyes, until she remembered the pot she had on the stove- I should take out the…

-Of course -he stammered as he sat down again on the sofa next to the fireplace-

He saw her pour the liquid into two cups. She handed him hers and sat down on the small armchair opposite him. He was surprised that she didn't sit next to him. Since they had entered the house, it had been clear to him that she wasn't too given to physical contact.

He wouldn't push her, he wasn't that kind of man. She took a sip of the chocolate, the heat of the liquid went down her throat. He smiled as he leaned back, resting his head against the cushions for a moment.

"It's very good," he replied, raising his head again to look at her.

"Thank you," he smiled. "The recipe is from my mother. The trick is to leave it on the fire for two minutes. That way the flavor is more intense."

The hunter wondered where his mother was and why she wasn't there with her, but it wasn't his business, so he didn't say anything. He watched her intently for a moment before speaking.

"May I ask you how did you end up here?

“You mean living in the middle of the forest?” she asked, he nodded. “Big cities overwhelm me, so I thought this would be the best for me.” She took another sip from her cup. “I prefer to be here and go shopping in the nearest small town whenever I need to.” He nodded.

Silence fell over them again before she broke it.

“And you?” she asked. “What were you doing in the middle of the forest at this hour?”

“Hunting,” she said. It wasn't really a lie, she was just embellishing the truth a bit. “It's what I do.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” she said. “But don't hunters usually hunt with hunting rifles, instead of with bows and arrows?”

-I prefer to do it the traditional way - he smiled amused at her curious expression - those modern weapons can jam and fail - he fixed his gaze on her, as if she were a predator cornering its prey - that will never happen to the bow

-You talk as if you were much older than you look - she commented making him smile -

"That's because I'm much older than you" he thought before taking a last sip of his chocolate.

-Maybe I am - he challenged her, leaving the insinuation in the air - Can I ask… why you let me into your house?

-What do you mean?

-Well, I'm an unknown person that you found in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night - he sketched an amused smile - Do you do that with all men?

-You're the first - he murmured, his cheeks turning red-

-Repeat that - he ordered, fixing his blue gaze on her, an almost animal growl stuck in his throat-

-I say that you are the first man I have let into my house - she whispered, watching as he put the cup aside to rest his elbows on his knees, leaning forward-

-Why? - he questioned - Why have you let me disturb your peace like this?

-You're not disturbing anything - he answered with a small mouth, the blush on his cheeks intensifying when he added - the truth is that I enjoy your company

-You're playing with fire, little one - he muttered, drilling into her with his gaze - Are you willing to burn yourself?

-I don't know - his eyes did not leave hers - And you?

The hunter slowly got up from the sofa and walked to where she was. He held her chin between his index and middle finger, making her look up. A broken sigh left her lips at the unexpectedness of the action.

"So much time here alone in the middle of the forest…" he whispered as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "When was the last time someone made you feel good?"

"I don't remember," he admitted under her watchful gaze.

"Maybe I can…" he sat down slowly beside her, "refresh your memory."

He held her cheek gently, his gaze connecting with hers immediately, as if he were silently asking her permission. He didn't need to say it out loud, when his gaze lowered to her mouth, he knew that she also wanted it to happen as much as he did.

The kiss was slow and deliberate at first, Ilia's lips slowly getting used to his movements, following his rhythm. As time passed, she became more intense. The hunter took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it, causing her to gasp against his mouth.

Ilia felt him push her body back, slowly knocking her down onto the couch cushions. He pulled away for a moment. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips were flushed and her hair was disheveled, proof that this had only just begun.

He remembered how pure and virginal she had seemed the first time he saw her and now there she was, about to spread her legs for him.

Only for him.

-I'll try to go slow, be gentle -he growled, looking down at her mouth again- I don't know if I can do it

-I don't want you to be gentle -she replied, pulling on the straps of his suit to get him closer- you're not going to break me

-Sergei -she murmured, finally introducing herself-

-Sergei -she repeated this- I… -she blushed- I need you -she breathed in raggedly- please

-Don't beg, little one -he smiled- let me give you what you want

Little by little, their clothes disappeared until they were on top of each other as God brought them into the world. Their eyes locked for a moment, before he buried his head in the side of her neck. He kissed the place where her pulse was beating, drawing a ragged sigh from her, while his scent filled her nose.

-You're so ready for me… -he murmured, kissing the spot between her breasts- and I haven't even touched you yet… -he whispered, resting the palm of his hand on her lower belly, not touching her where she needed it most- I want to taste you -he growled, opening her legs, leaving her completely exposed to him- Will you let me? -he asked, momentarily raising his gaze-

-Yes -she gasped, feeling his breath against her swollen and needy center- please…

Without warning, he lowered his head. His tongue moved over her folds with the mastery of someone who was obviously done that before.

Ilia moaned loudly as she arched her back, pressing herself against his mouth.

She brought her hands to his curly hair when he found her clit. She pulled on it just as she had done on her lip before, as if she were a boar snatching the last piece of flesh from one of its prey with its teeth.

The pressure in her lower abdomen only grew. A gasp/sigh came from between her lips.

"Sergei…" she warned, "I'm…" she moaned, "very close."

She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream. He saw her and pulled away for a moment to gently remove her hand from his lips.

-Don't do that, I want to hear you - she smiled half-way - no one will hear you scream here, darling

She lowered her head again, this time her movements were faster and more disordered, causing her to slowly fall closer to the abyss.

-Shit, Sergei! - she screamed, she felt his smile against her skin -

-That's it baby, give it all to me - he murmured -

A few seconds later he unloaded hard on her tongue, of course he then took care of cleaning the mess with his lips. When she had caught her breath, without warning she sat on him, impaling herself on his cock.

Sergei's eyes opened wide in surprise at the suddenness of her action, although he gradually forgot about it when he noticed her still slippery against his member.

-Darling - he mumbled, looking at her firmly - What are you doing?

-You haven't cum yet -she replied, holding her gaze- and I thought it would be nice to reward you for giving me the best orgasm of my life

He smiled, sitting up slowly, the change in position making them both moan.

-So the best, mhm? -he murmured, moving his hips up, hitting her walls- let's see if I can give you the second

[heartfullofleeches]

Maybe a better idea..... Farmer Flemish giant rabbit Yan catches Foxboy reader, but gives reader the choice that if he becomes the yans malewife he can live.

(That was the plan to some extent in the long run, but the chase is fun, no? Regardless, here's a blurb of the two lovebirds)

Male Flemish Rabbit Yan + Foxboy Reader

Warnings: Imprisonment, kidnapping. Reader's pronouns are not mentioned, but they are thought of as male. The term Wife is used.

-

That bastard....

"Let me out! Let. Me. Out!"

Rearing your legs as far back as the tight space would grant, your knees bump into your chest as you kick out. Metal grates dig at your arms with every slight turn and jostle of your body. Dirt and moulted feathers mat your fur, yet there isn't any poultry in sight for you to feast and console yourself upon.

Damn it... You knew it was too good to be true. That farmer was a fool, but a watchful and cautious one at that. He'd never leave the door to his pens open unless he was sick or injured. Maybe part of you had prayed that he was. Wrong as it may be to wish ill on someone making a living for himself, you were just trying to survive too.

"Let me out.... please.." Your voice wavers as the pains of hunger and stress exhaust what little strength you have left. Your balled fists slap pathetically against the metal cages as tears well in your eyes, daring to spill. You won't let them. You won't let him win.

"I said...GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The gravel outside your wooden prison shifts.

"In due time, Love. We've got a deal to make first."

Dread consumes the emptiness in your stomach, pinning your limbs to the dirt covered floor as he at sinks to his knees. Your knees curl into your chest once more, body and mind subconsciously making yourself smaller as his larger figure draws into view - blocking your sight of the forest beyond his land. Your home. You don't even realize your crying till his fingers brush the wetness from your cheek. You have half a mind to bite them off as they get stuck between the grates.

You snarl- "If you wanted me gone you could've asked..."

The farmer presses a strong hand to his mouth, suppressing a laugh. "If I wanted ya gone, I would'a taken the sheriff's generous offer of a shotgun the last time I had him over. You know how he is about outsiders."

The bite in your stare remains - still, your legs quiver at the mention. "You aren't going to turn me over to him, are you?

He can't. The farmer is lenient towards your crimes, but that man.. That rabbit... He'll have you hanging from the town hall by nightfall.

"Please... I'll...I'll do anything...I'll work off my debt day and night, I-"

"Sweetheart...." The farmer rest a hand on the steel wall of the coop, gently petting its bars as he would your fuzzy little head once you agreed to be his. "It's okay. Nobody's gonna hurt you or make you do any hard labor."

"Then-" Your cracked tongue wets your splitting lips. "What do you want from me?"

The farmer cranes his head, meeting you eye to eye. The bags beneath his eyes seemed heavier than usual. How long had been out here waiting for you to return?"

"Cute little fox like yourself shouldn't be out here scrounging around for scraps or the occasional unattended hen. You should have a roof over your head, a comfy bed, all the food you could ever want."

What's he going on about? Another trap?... "If I'm not going to work for it... How does this deal benefit you?"

"I want you to be my wife."

"Wha?!- Ouch!-" Your head shoots up, ramming into the low hanging support beams. "Are you crazy?"

The farmer lets a chuckle slip. "Heh, I'd have to have lost my mind not falling for ya. Think about it this way, Sweetheart. You come home with me and I fill that belly of yours full of food. Or I call up the sheriff and he fills it with lead. Your choice."

Your howling stomach betrays any fight you have remaining. You don't have many options in this scenario. Push come to shove, you could possibly make your escape in the dead of night when he least expects it - taking as many of his hens as your arms could carry.

"Okay... I'll.. be your wife."

"Smart fox." The farmer stands - rounding the corner to the front of the henhouse. He lifts the wooden board that had fallen into place as you crawling inside hours ago. Your legs are too cramped and spent from all that kicking to fight him as he pulls you out by your tail and into his well built arms. The farmer presses his nose to your face, nuzzling your cheek as he walks off towards his home - carrying you bridal style.

"Welcome home, Hun."

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died

[bloodycassian]

To be Wed -

Azriel x Reader x Rhysand - NSFW/MDNI 18+ 18+ 18+

Plot - Reader is caught stealing and is being punished in town square when Rhys comes in. He however has another motive, aside from being a sympathetic high lord. 

THEMES/WARNINGS - knotting/different shaped Illyrian dicks. Breeding kink (kind of - not mentioned in scene.). ‘Forced’ sex due to circumstance. Voyeur. Cuckholding. Shadow play. Slight anal. Rough sex. Bondage. Public humiliation(slightly). Multiple POV. P IN V. Oral. Body worship. Possible themes of CNC? 

Please do not read if you are easily triggered by any of these themes or anything remotely close - make good choices :) skip to ++++++++ for just the naughty bits.

NSFW - 18+ , MDNI

This is my Court. Rhys told himself that over, and over again. He had to be stable to rule. His people relied upon it. Azriel had even noticed his wavering anger and had suggested this. This was for his court.

This was for his pleasure, as well. He fucked into the mouth of the whore he’d hired, and tossed her aside when he couldn’t finish. He needed more, something to get his mind away from the demands of politics and what an open ended rule he had. Something to get his mind off the words Azriel had said. 

“A king without heir is what every opponent wishes for. Perhaps it is time-”

Azriel had shut his mouth after Rhys’s snarl. He wouldn’t go about impregnating females just for his lineage. Just to remain in control of his Court. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could have children. After more than a few mishandled one night stands, there’d never been a bastard born prince. 

But had Azriel been right? Was it time to try for an heir? Even if it wasn’t with a mate or even a dedicated partner? He’d house the female and take good care of her, surely. His heir would need to be strong, after all. The idea entertained him for longer than he’d like, as he paid the female and dismissed her. His cock was barely hard, still covered in her saliva. He grimaced. 

+

On his walk back to his townhome, Rhys passed the shops, hiding his face from passersby. Some still noticed him. One of them, the punisher on the corner. He tried to slide away, but the male caught him before he could disappear into the crowd. 

“Ah, the high lord himself, here to make an example of those whos intentions are against his Court!” The male announced, earning applause from the surrounding crowd. 

Rhys lifted his gaze, waving with a pressed smile. When he spied the male on the raised platform, then looked towards the headstalls to his side, Rhys breath was knocked from him. 

His cock surged immediately. A perfect, gorgeous body lay trapped here, craning her neck to look at him. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks rosy and bitten from the cold. Her dress was not nearly long enough for this weather, and a part of Rhys roared at that. In both arousal, and outrage that this male would have her up there-

He was at the podium before he realized, rage lacing his words. “Release her. Now.” His command was final, and the round male only gave him a confused look. 

He gestured to her with a paddle. “She was caught stealing-”

“You defy your high lord?” Rhys’s mind-voice broke through the thin walls of his shields, and the male flinched, startled. 

She was unbound from the headstock in just a few seconds. He took her by the elbow, and brought her before the crowd. “There’s been a misunderstanding. She was merely acting as a thief, so we could be sure our loyal city guards were following their orders.” He announced, smiling brightly towards the male with the paddle. The urge to rip into his flesh was astounding. 

“Thanks to our watchful security, we’re keeping Velaris safe. Thank you all!” He called, waving for a moment longer. He dared a glance to the red faced female at his side, noting her shimmering eyes and the way she stared at him. Gods those lips, the mouth half open in utter befuddlement - he tore them away into a shadow before the crowd could notice the growing bulge in his trousers. 

She fell onto the floor the moment they landed in his townhome, gasping for breath and steadying herself before standing. “What- the-” She panted, pushing herself to her hands and knees. 

Rhys barely resisted the urge to fold that dress over and take a long look at what he’d brought into his home. To taste what he had imagined on that stage. His hands balled into fists for a moment, his nails biting into the flesh before he helped her up. 

“This is the wife you find yourself, Rhys?” Az made his presence known in the doorway, earning a low growl from Rhys. 

“Wife?!” She squeaked, her voice breaking slightly. She stepped away, knocking into the couch and nearly stumbling over again. 

“Forgive him. Im sorry-” Rhys glared towards Azriel, then took her hand. The shadowsinger grinned, and chewed on another piece of apple while he watched the exchange. “I- my mind is a bit lost at the moment.”

“Clearly.” She snorted. “A high lord’s wife wouldn’t be strung up in the center of town for stealing. Your type are called Rulers for that. Royals.” 

Azriel laughed, loud and surprised. “Maybe you should propose, Rhys. She’ll set you straight.”

“We try not to rule in that way.” Rhys muttered. “What were you stealing?”

“Clothes.”

“Do you need clothes?” Rhys took another glance at the exquisite dress she wore, wanting to admire it at the same time as rip it off of her. 

She shied, her hands going to cross over her chest. “I dont see why that’s important.” She answered. 

“Because he’s looking for a surrogate, of sorts. Someone to birth his children.” Azriel answered quickly, ignoring the deathly look Rhys shot at him. 

She flinched, and unfolded her arms, revealing a sliver of a knife in her hand. 

“You’d be well paid. Taken care of. You and the child both, for the rest of your days.” Azriel barreled on, pushing off the wall and going to join Rhys. He bumped the male with his shoulder, and took a breath, scenting her. “And, if you’d like-” Azriel lowered his voice, stepping closer to her, despite the knife. He leaned in, closer and closer until he hovered just over her ear.

“You’d be able to have more than just him.”

Her breath hitched. The knife clattered to the floor, and Azriel’s huff of a laugh ghosted over her ear. 

++++++++++++

“Is there a contract for this or is it just your word?” You asked skeptically. 

Rhys reluctantly looked to Azriel, assuming the male had this planned for much longer than Rhys realized. The male snapped and a pen and paper appeared on the desk you sat adjacent to. Rhys groaned. 

Azriel had had this planned for much, much longer than Rhys had given him credit for. 

“This agreement will span your lifetime, and the lifetime of the potential heir should they remain loyal to the Court. Should you or the child abandon the Night Court, it will be nullified.” Azriel explained briefly.

You weighed the words, bewildered still at how quickly your day had turned around. 

“You don’t have to make a choice now.” Rhys said. But if you denied them, where would that leave you? To be begging and making your money on the streets again? Stealing had been a fine trade, but now because of the High Lord’s announcement, there would be no way any other smugglers or traders would make business with you again. 

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank the Mother-” Azriel blew out in a breath.

“I think you should think about this more.” Rhys argued at the same time.

“There’s nothing to think about. I bare your children and I receive a life that I’ve been struggling for since I was a child. I am ready for that life to begin.” 

You didn’t care if it was reckless or stupid or outright dangerous. You’d done worse for less. Having a guaranteed way to wealth and power with bearing a High Lord’s heir was the gift you’d been waiting for over two centuries for. 

You picked up the quill and signed your name. A dull throbbing erupted along your collarbone, and you pulled back the thin part of your dress to see whirling ink there. “A deal made in truth.” Rhys nodded slowly, and stood from the end of the bed. Azriel seemed to melt into the background as the high lord of the night court approached you, heat flaring from him as he neared. Was he sick? Your eyes darted to his hands, where they rolled into fists at his sides. 

Slowly, a tingling in stomach grew stronger. Searing down from your collarbone, into the pit of your stomach, it grew. You rubbed your thighs together in your seat, embarrassed of the scent that you knew was rolling off of you in waves. 

As soon as he was close enough to smell it, Rhys was on his knees before you. He gripped your knees and pulled them apart, sending sparks up your spine and forcing your arousal to a nearly painful peak. You panted, curling inward trying to protect yourself from the male you hardly knew. 

His hand pressed against your chest, gently holding you back as his other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers dragging over the wetness he found there. A low growl reverberated in his throat. “A deal has been struck.” He said, lifting his chin to watch you as he flicked a finger over your clit. 

A jolt of hot, spiked pleasure had you rolling your hips into his hand, wishing you had some kind of power here. Some way to manipulate him just as he was doing to you. You glanced to Azriel, who’d practically made himself invisible in a corner. 

Rhys caught the look, and followed your eyes. “Is that what you want?” He hummed, his finger circling you slowly, before dipping down to your entrance, prodding there lightly. You couldn’t help but nod, your throat suddenly dry. 

Rhys hummed again, and withdrew his hand from your dress. He hauled you up from the chair by your elbow, and brought you to the edge of the bed where he’d been sitting. He knocked your knees apart and guided you lean over, so your chest and head were supported by the bed. So vulnerable like this, so… deliciously at his will. He must have sensed your spike in arousal, because there was a weight that covered your wrists and neck then - just like the pillory in the courtyard had been like. 

“Is that why you picked me?” You questioned, voice rough with dryness.

He stepped away, and you half expected him to bring a paddle down on you. A new rush of desire coursed through your cunt, making you a quivering, wet mess. The anticipation for it, for anything had you arching, wanting - needing so badly. The coldness made your body ache for someone to touch. You nearly pushed yourself up from the bed, but then there was a set of hands on your lower back, tender hands grazing over you there. 

Then Rhysand appeared before you on the bed. Your stomach dipped and rolled, surprise rippling through you. Azriel’s cold shadows licked up your shins, wrapped around your immobilized forearms and locked them in place. “Fuck-” You panted, shooting Rhysand a curious - and likely, panicked - look as he watched, eyes dark and hooded while Azriel knelt behind you. 

His tongue was immaculate. Your legs nearly gave out at the first stroke, but you resorted to arching, rocking back as much as you could to get him just as you wanted him. He gripped your ass tight in his palms, leaving red marks when he occasionally slapped there. You hadn’t been so fucking desprate for something before. So aching for something inside of you. 

All the while, Rhysand watched. He flexed, gripping his cock tight and watched, nearly unblinking as Azriel feasted upon you from behind. The tip of him grew wet quickly, and he used it to wetten the rest of his shaft, from the soft pointed tip to the slight bump near the base where the tie was. 

You’d never been fucked by an Illyrian before, let alone two. Your mind went fuzzy at thought of it. There’d always been rumors about how good of a fuck an Illyrian was, but to see the size of them in person… A delicious shudder rolled through you.

A finger dipped inside of you with brutal efficiency, curling and drawing the breath from you. Rhys’s chin tipped up, and he bit his lip. His eyes were keenly focused on Azriel, on the way the male move and lapped at you while he stretched you open with another finger. 

You moaned, and moaned as the shadowsinger brought you to near completion, then stopped. You nearly stomped your feet. Your body arched and practically pleaded for him to continue. He removed his fingers gently, then slapped his soaked hand across your ass. “Nice and fucking ready.” He hummed, voice husky and filled with the promise of brutal pleasure.

+

Rhys pulled the shadow of night over himself, and was behind her in an instant. Azriel had done good, better than Rhys would have done if he’d had the job. He wouldn’t have been able to last as long without delving into his own needs. 

His hands ghosted over the perfect ass before him, admiring for a moment. Then Azriel was gripping his cock, pumping a few times. Rhys’s hands bit into her skin, earning a delectable cry that had his cock twitching in Az’s hand. A lick of his fingers and Azriel had his cock soaked with saliva, all the way to the base where the bulging roundness was growing quickly. 

“Eager.” Azriel said with a grin. 

Rhys didn’t have a moment to bear his teeth at the male. He was gone, then appeared again, fully nude on the bed where Rhys had been. The sight of the shadowsinger’s own reddened, growing knot was enough to send another spurt of precum from the high lord. 

He slid in with ease, groaning at the heat, the grip that surrounded him. His toes curled, popping loudly. He tugged on the back of the dress, using it as a handle of sorts to pull her back onto him. Quick, efficient thrusts have him bottoming out, her slickened entrance coating the start of his knot already. His mouth waters at the sight of your bodies slamming together. The sound it makes. He stared down at the way your lips gripped him, enjoying the look of the wetness from both your bodies there.

He panted, nearly ashamed at how much he needed this. He spared a glance to Azriel, at the way the male’s smug gaze took in the entire scene before him. As if to say ‘tell me I’m right.’ in challenge to the pleasure coursing through Rhys’s veins.

His knot was beginning to catch, and he leaned forward, taking a breast into her hand and pulling. He’d have to work her open more, and quickly. He wouldn’t last much longer. He swore at himself, then vowed to make the next time last. He put a foot up near her head, arching over her to get the angle that would have him hammering into her. The moans grew louder, almost frantic. Her muscles flexed and he nearly came at the intense squeezing that her pussy gave him. 

“Not yet-” He grunted, placing wet kisses at her ear. He fucked into her quickly, thrusting hard and fast until he felt his knot beginning to catch more, then he nearly stilled. He drew a calming breath, and pressed - more and more until a hiss came from her lips. He pulled out, then pressed in again, and again until the sweet, all consuming heat covered his knot. 

“Fuck-” He ground out in a long breath. She was silent, eyes wide and gasping, hands grabbing for the sheets - for anything as her muscles began to quiver. A deep satisfaction took him, made him prideful that he had such a gorgeous female coming on him. He rolled his hips forward, inching in more and more - filling and stretching the pussy that clamped down on him. 

Then he was cumming, spilling deep inside her. Her walls milked him, her own orgasm making her legs tremble and nearly collapse. The pull on his cock made the weakness known, and he helped hold her up by the hips. He shuddered and panted, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her hair - anywhere he could reach. 

+

The swelling of his knot was exquisite. The tapered bulge of it fitting easily into your body, as if you were molded for him. And your desire had turned from molten and eating you alive, into a manageable flame with him bottoming out inside you. More than that alone, it was something sent from a god. Intoxicating. Mind blowing. It was a stretch that made words impossible, that made your orgasm nearly instant from the pressure of it. You weren’t sure how many times you’d cum around him by the time he was pulling out. 

Wetness dripped from your hole. It dripped down your thighs and to the floor, and embarrassment would have coated you, if it weren’t for the desire still thrumming hot in your veins. With Rhysand pulling free from your grip, your body was at a loss. Greedy for more. 

“She’s ready.” Rhys said, voice raspy. Your mind was slow to pick up on the fact that the two Illyrians had traded places once again. 

“I thought-” You began, voice hoarse from dryness and moaning.

“You don’t want more?” Azriel asked, and he sounded genuinely confused. 

A strange sound came from your throat, and your body arched back to him. “I do.. But the contract..” 

His cock was inside you in the next breath, forcing any of your questions out of your mind. All that was left was the need, the overpowering heat that roared inside you. You pushed back to it, eager to take the male. 

“An Heir of the night court, and anyone else you’d desire.” Azriel panted in your ear, taking you with slower, more grinding thrusts than Rhysand had. With the slickness of Rhysand’s cum and your own juices already coating you, he slipped into the pace he desired easily. “From how fucking soaked you are for me I’d say you desire me as well.”

Denying it would have been an outright lie. How could anyone not want the shadowsinger? You hummed, spreading your feet farther apart. Azriel was slightly shorter than the high lord, but not by much. The size difference was mostly in their cocks. Even with Rhysand fucking you first, breaking you open, Azriel was still a stretch. His cock rammed into that spot inside you with ease, flicking over it with every thrust. 

Your hands clawed at the foot of the bed - not sure if you should cum or not, because he was getting you there quickly. His easy pace was offset with the roughness of each stroke, of how much more solid he seemed than the high lord. 

The high lord who now groaned as a shadow pleasured him. Your eyes fluttered closed, trying your hardest not to come undone. Azriel’s laugh at your ear had you tightening on him, earning wet sounds from where your bodies connected. “You like that, how I play with these?” His shadows drifted up your ankles and shins, crawling extra slowly up your thighs until they reached the point where he connected with you. 

“They serve you, too. Just as I do.” He said it in a voice that would have you wet instantly, in any other situation. But it was laced with deeper meaning. To serve you. To serve you as what, exactly? As your own pleasure-keeper? 

A shocked gasp left you as one of the tendrils of shadow circled your other hole. Your body went taut, arching back and nearly knocking him from your pussy. “Easy-” He crooned, his voice sweet in your ear. The sensitivity was outrageous, an entirely new experience for you. It had brought you back though, to a height where you weren’t nearly on the precipice of orgasm. Your eyes watered with the stimulation, with how much pleasure the shadow brought. He slipped back inside you with ease, pressing in deep - letting you feel the way his tie was growing. The bulb there much larger than Rhysand’s had been. 

The shadow circling your ass did not relent, but your body grew accustomed to it’s pressure in time with Azriel’s thrusts. You could tell it was growing larger though, from a small finger’s size to the blunt end of a smaller cock, it nudged at you. You were practically purring, content with the easy way your pleasure grew with each thrust when he pressed deep, pushing his growing knot inside you a few times. 

A hum of approval rang from Rhys, who now you noticed was bound by the shadows just as much as you were. His hands were locked to his ankles behind him while he was propped on his knees, that shadow making a mess of him while he dribbled pre come and watched Azriel fuck you. The sight of him - of the high lord bound to Azriel’s wishes made something deep in the pit of your stomach turn from content to ravenous. 

Your walls squeezed him, urging him to fuck you faster, deeper - whatever he wanted - whatever he wanted. 

Gods, that was what he wanted. He wanted Rhysand like that, to urge you on. To not only see something he liked watching, but to see if you also liked it. Pleasure-keeper indeed.

You rolled back to Azriel as much as you could, nudging that shadow into your hole slightly. You cried out, but He was pushing into you, forcing you down, down. His weight suddenly forcing you to the floor. Your hands still bound, you could do nothing but brace for the impact of your knees against the stone floor, but it never happened. The shadows gripped around your thighs, pulling them apart and holding you there, only a few inches above the floor.

The shadowsinger followed you the whole way down, the move planned and wicked. Heat pumped through you with the adrenaline, taking your arousal back to nearly the edge of the peak yet again. 

His knot slid in, this time with much more resistance. “Such a fucking dirty thing aren’t you?” He said, gripping your throat in one hand and forcing you to look up, to watch as his shadows milked Rhysand. 

The shadow at your hole left, no longer able to press into you with the new positioning. As much as you missed it, the stretch that Azriel’s knot was providing more than made up for the loss. He fucked into you with determination now, the width of his knot slipping in and out of your entrance with ease. He was just under the size Rhys had been when he’d locked inside of you, and still seemed to have more to give. 

“Gods, you’re tight. Rhys didn’t do a good enough job breaking you in, did he?” He ground out, placing bite marks upon your shoulders. One of his hands pressed against your hip, supporting you with every snap of his hips forward. He leaned down slightly, arching over your back and raising up from his knees a bit, then buried himself in you at a brutal pace. 

A cry fell from your lips at the intensity of it, at the way he seemed to know exactly what to do, where to press- You were coming undone. There was no stopping it, no way to rock or buck against him differently-

His knot swelled, catching on your lips- rubbing between them until he could no longer pull free. Your pussy sealed around him fully, covering him in your tight heat. You came, and came - knees quivering as he locked inside you. The world was nothing but heat and the crest of your pleasure and the fullness that Azriel provided for your pussy to ride out your orgasm with. 

Rhys was groaning - whimpering, really, and the shadows writhed around him in such a mass that it was almost concerning. They’d allowed him some movement, so he could fuck them as he pleased, but within a few strokes, thick white cum shot from his cock. He hissed as he came, his body flexing and rolling with the orgasm. 

Then, with a stuttering motion of his hips, Azriel was cumming as well. He collapsed atop you, his orgasm ripped from as your insides pressed on him, taking him for all he was able to provide. He panted, eyes blown wide, his nails leaving deep red crescents where he’d been gripping your hips. He filled you, cum leaking out even around the seal his knot had made. 

The only thing he wished was for another body, so he may lick it from you. So he may lap at your clit while still seated inside, to feel how you’d react to such a thing-

Gods his cock was growing hard again just from the thought. No, no- he denied himself of it. He’d have plenty of time, in the future. He took steadying breaths and instead played with your hair,fixing how he’d mussed it and planting kisses along where he’d bitten.

He was unable to move for long, long moments. Not until Rhys broke his mental blankness to laugh - “I think I’ve made a good choice of heir-provider.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Here’s a Jason idea for you: imagine a criminal he’s fighting as Red Hood suddenly mentions you, by name, to mess with Jason. Jay would absolutely obliterate the criminal, but that leaves the question of how his enemies know about you… I love the potential for angst/protective Jason 😍 Also, I love your writing so much, it always makes my day to see you on my feed! Thank you for sharing your writings 💞🥰

Tw: blood and violent stuff.

Also thank you for enjoying my stuff! It’s really appreciated and makes me wanna write a lot more in the future. It’s just nice being reminded that people do like the stuff that I put out and not hate it as much as I do when looking back on them.🤣 🦦

A well placed punch to the face landed the criminal flat on his back as he groaned upon impact and was currently struggling to get back up to his feet, only to be pinned by a heavy combat boot weighing down on his chest. Finally Jason had caught up with the drug dealer that had been lurking near children and vulnerable adults alike for the past couple of days, and right where he wanted him too.

‘It’s such a shame that you caught me as fast as you did RedHood because just you came along, I was going to pay one last person a visit before the night was over.’ The criminal smiled, showing off his blood stained teeth in the process, his smile then became a grimace as Jason put more of his weight onto his chest. ‘Well it was a good thing that i came when I did because after tonight, you won’t be selling drugs to anyone anymore, that I can guarantee.’ Jason growled, feeling his blood boil hotter for every second that he didn’t put a bullet in this assholes head.

‘What was their name?’ The criminal trailer off, not heading Jason’s warning and throwing his head back and laughing. ‘Oh right now I remember, it’s Y/n. What a pretty name for an even prettier person.’ Jason froze at the mention of your name, his blood had gone cold but his anger skyrocketed at the insinuation of you being placed in any sort of danger. Whether it be by a drug dealer or otherwise, the same conclusion was to be expected with Jason and that was that he would personally hunt down every last thug, drug dealer and crime lord that ever dared to speak your name.

Jason wordlessly then grabbed the criminal by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a wall with all his strength. Watching on as the scumbag crumpled the floor as he then began to stalk towards him before gradually breaking out into a run and brutally ramming his knee into the criminals head. Jason wasn’t done there though, not by a long shot. He wanted the make the bastard pay for having your name come out of his filthy mouth, he wanted to tear him limb from limb, put him back together again so that he could rip him limb from limb all over again before ever giving him the satisfaction of death.

‘You will never, ever, ever bring anyone to harm ever again! Not while I’m here, not while I’m still breathing and able bodied enough to tear you fuckers to bits!’ Jason hissed pure venom as each of his punches become more and more brutal then the last, his knuckles were going to bruise like hell and hurt like hell too, but the pain and punishment he’d receive would be all worthwhile if it meant keeping you safe and sound. Jason would gladly taken on any punishment anyone could throw at him if it meant you remained unscathed, he’d happily gain more scars on his body if it meant that you could sleep easier at night, Jason always had your best interests in mind whenever he was clearing the streets of Gotham.

He was doing it for you, he was doing it for the kids at Crime Alley, he was doing it so that everyone could have a peace of mind; And he didn’t care about the methods he took to obtaining that.

It wasn’t long until the criminal stopped moving all together, Jason didn’t care that his fists were stained with blood, he just stood up and left the criminal in the alleyway where he was brutally beaten to death and headed home; to you with a heavy mind and a growing pit within his stomach because if a low life scumbag like him knew you by name…then who else did? Black mask? Penguin? Two face? Scarecrow? Carmine Falcone? He didn’t like to think about this one but does Joker know? All these thoughts running through Jason’s head didn’t do him a whole lot of good with his ever growing sense of dread and slight paranoia; He had to get to you and he had to get to you now before anything else happened before the night ended.

‘I’m coming baby, just please still be there when I get home, please don’t let them take you away from me.’ Jason muttered under his breath as he pushed himself forward as he ran from rooftops to rooftop, determined to make it to the apartment before anyone else does because if they did, may god have mercy on their souls because Jason would go to war for you and will violently cut anyone down to size if they were to come between him and you; For nothing got between you and Jason and if they did, Jason would make sure to deal with it before it became more of a problem.

‘Sweetheart? Are you in here?’ Jason called as he slammed the door behind him.

‘Jason? What’s-‘ you rushed into the room and gasped upon seeing the dried blood on his knuckles and his paling face as though he looked about to pass out where he stood. ‘Oh my god.’ You whispered as you rushed towards Jason who rushed towards you, arms out stretched to grasp your waist while your hands held his face. ‘What happened out there? I thought you said it was a simple mission.’ You said, concerned for Jason as he seemingly let out a sigh of relief and rested his forehead against yours.

‘It was meant to be a simple mission but then…’

‘Then what?’ You asked, stroking his cheeks reassuringly and feeling him melt into your touch like he did every night he came home from a long patrol or mission, but he also did it when he needed to feel you on him after waking up from a nightmare.

‘He said your name chipmunk.’ Jason squeezed his eyes shut as though he was trying to rid himself of the events that happened early on and focus on the feeling of your thumbs caressing his cheeks lovingly instead. ‘He said your name -clear as day I heard him say it- and before I knew it I was wailing on him until he stopped moving…all because he said how he was going to come for you next and I couldn’t…’ Jason paused to regulate his breathing that he hadn’t noticed had become fast and uneven the more his mind lingered on that small detail. ‘I couldn’t let him do that. I won’t let them take you from me. Never.’ He then tightens his grip on your waist as he kept uttering the extent he was willing to go to keep you in his life under his breath, almost as though it were a prayer or a promise, which ever one it was you weren’t quite sure but you let Jason squeeze you against his chest with his strong arms like a stress toy to his hearts desire.

‘It’s okay Jaybirdie. I’m right here, can’t you feel my warmth? Hear my voice? I’m right here baby. So you can squeeze me, hold me, cuddle me as much as you need to feel alright again because I’m not going anywhere with my Jaybird.’ You said loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts, pressing kisses into anywhere that you had access to, whether it be his shoulders, face, neck, forehead, you’d plant several kisses to each of those areas respectively. You may act calm but much like Jason, you too didn’t like the idea of some random criminal knowing your name. The implications of that were endless and it would be enough to put anyone on edge or even over it depending on their mental state, and to put it lightly Jason’s mental state wasn’t the healthiest.

The occasional whimper and sniff that came from him only made your heart hurt even more that you were willing to put aside your own fears about the situation to instead focus on comforting Jason, who must be feeling it ten times worse then you were, but it was the fact that in this moment you were bonded by a shared fear but that fear could be eventually overcame by the pair of you working together. ‘It’s okay baby it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere, they can’t make us because we’re stronger together.’ You spoke into the skin of his cheek as you finished pressed a thousand kisses onto them.

‘Stronger together.’ Jason echoed as he pressed himself further against you to feel you closer to him. ‘We’re stronger together.’ You smiled softly, seeing that you finally go through to him somewhat. However you were more than willing to stand in this position all night if it meant bringing Jason back from the edge within his mind because nothing was more important than having your Jason back.

‘That’s right baby.’ You cooed. ‘We’re stronger together, nothing will tear us apart.’

‘Promise?’ Jason asked looking deep into your eyes, it felt as though he was looking at you rather then through you which has your breath hitching in your throat momentarily.

‘I promise.’

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Thirteen

Fool's Fare: Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Flashback Chapter, Cursing, I played around with mythology in this one, Myths, Curses, Magic, Deals, Mentions of death, Mentions of suicide, Smoking pipes (Tobacco), Regret, Angst, some fluff. I think that's everything, but please let me know if I've missed something!

Word Count: 4.6k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

Smoke wafted towards the ceiling, disappearing into the air before the soft tendrils could reach the wooden rafters. The glow of the embers illuminated Tom’s face as he sucked the tobacco smoke into his lungs, the burn a familiar comfort to him after so many years. Blue eyes scanned the crowded room, men gulping down mouthfuls of ale as women sauntered around the room looking for their bed fellow of the night. Laughter broke out on the far side of the room, cheers following it as the last hand of cards was revealed.

These too were familiar to him.

“Don’t suppose the information we were given was wrong,” Beau muttered beside him. Tom’s eyes drifted over to him, studying the quartermaster. Tom wasn’t sure he altogether liked Beau very much, but he trusted the man, and in this life, trust was worth its weight in gold. While Tom knew the quartermaster was loyal, he also knew that Beau’s interest aligned with his own.

“He’ll be here,” he replied, shifting in his chair to lean back, feet propping up on the table. A pretty, young woman strolled casually over to him, fixing him with a sultry gaze and a confident smile. Tom waved her off, earning a pout, but he paid her no mind. He was on a mission tonight, waiting for a man he knew would show his face sooner rather than later.

Pete Mitchell was a right bastard as far as Tom was concerned—the newly appointed captain of the Maverick had earned himself quite the reputation even before earning the mantle from his predecessor.

Tales of the new captain capturing and sinking enemy ships had made their way to every port along the coasts, whispers twisting tales until no one knew what was true and what was falsehood. What had remained consistent, however, was the fact that the young captain had been going around boasting about how no man could best him, not even Davy Jones himself.

Tom wouldn’t stand for that.

The door to the pub opened with a sharp crack to the wall behind it, a smirking young man with fine features, dark hair, and blazing, blue eyes roving over the scene before him.

“That’s him,” Beau whispered, and Tom let out a low grunt in acknowledgement, watching the young man strut into the room like he owned the place. Tom’s jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, feeling his own irritation rolling off of him in waves. The lad seemed to sense him because his gaze turned to fix on the older man, a brow arching curiously. Slowly, Pete walked over to him, confidence shining from every pore as a lazy smirk curled on his lips. He didn’t wait to be invited to sit, he simply did—the chair knocking against the stone floor as he plopped down in the seat. The man who followed him, much taller than the captain and mustache adorning his upper lip, peered around anxiously before fixing his eyes on Tom and Beau. Tom surmised that he must be Pete’s quartermaster, Nick Bradshaw.

Tom turned his attention back to Pete as the younger man’s smirk became a full-blown grin.

“Evenin’, pops,” he greeted, nodding at him from across the table. Tom felt the vein in his forehead pulse with irritation, leaning back in his chair with a creak and another drag from his pipe. Tom studied the young man before him, noting how at ease he seemed to be despite the dangerous aura that rolled off of Tom in waves. Men twice this boy’s age cowered in his presence, and yet here he was—grinning like a cheshire cat.

It pissed him off.

“You know,” Pete drawled, leaning back to mirror the older captain, “it’s considered polite to answer back.”

Tom snorted, bringing the pipe away from his mouth and staring down the young captain.

“Pleasantries fly out the window once I hear of some upstart going around boasting about how none can best him—even Davy Jones himself.”

“I haven’t even seen you on the seas, old timer,” Pete grinned. “You think I’d beat you like all the others?”

“I think I’d sink your ship in ten seconds flat without even raising my voice,” Tom spat, earning a wary side-eye from his quartermaster.

“Tom here doesn’t exactly appreciate people invoking his name needlessly,” Beau supplied, shifting in his seat as waves of anger rolled off the captain. “Especially when it’s spoken in boast of oneself.”

Pete’s brow arched as his quartermaster’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Nick spoke, leaning forward to look over his own captain’s shoulder. “We don’t even know your name.”

Tom hummed, tapping his fingers on the top of the table. “I think you do.”

A moment of silence passed between the four men, the rowdy crowd around them continuing on in their revelry as if nothing were amiss. It was Pete who broke the silence first.

“You’re supposed to be a myth,” he murmured, all trace of mirth gone from his face. “A legend.”

“Any sailor worth his salt knows not to invoke names of power,” Tom retorted. “Names themselves have power. You shouldn’t speak the name of anything whose wrath you don’t want to earn.”

“And is that what I’ve done?” Challenged Pete, squaring his shoulders as Nick gave him an exasperated look. “Have I incurred the wrath of Davy Jones?”

Tom considered him for a moment. The gall of this man was something Tom hadn’t seen in decades, and he found that he quite liked the challenge the young captain was issuing him. He tried to remember the last time someone had done so so openly and brazenly.

“You’ve certainly incurred the annoyance of Tom,” he replied finally, not missing the sharp look Beau shot his way. Pete frowned in confusion.

“Tom?”

“That’s my name,” he replied with a shrug, inhaling from his pipe as he watched the younger man process his words.

“I thought you were Davy Jones?” Pete asked finally, lips pursed as his guard was up.

“Davy Jones is more of a…moniker,” Tom supplied, closing his eyes as he basked in the warmth of the tobacco in his lungs. “Has a better ring to it than Thomas, wouldn’t you say?”

The young captain stared at him in disbelief before letting out a humorless chuckle.

“You aren’t at all what I was expecting,” Pete mused, and Tom snorted.

“You weren’t expecting much,” he countered. “You didn’t even think I was real until a few moments ago.”

The two men talked well into the night, and Tom had grown a sort of strange fondness for the plucky captain. You’d never get him to admit that he felt somewhat impressed by the stories Pete told him of the several ships he had managed to capture, but he was sure Pete caught the way his eyes alighted with intrigue. As dawn broke above the horizon, the sky painted in a hushed blue and warm pink, the captains bid farewell to each other, Tom warning the young captain one more time to not invoke his name lest there be consequences.

Years passed, and in that time, Tom and his crew had taken many treasures from doomed ships, the begging of crews falling on deaf ears. The captain of the Flying Dutchman having long lost feeling in his heart for the plight of others. No, in this world there was only take, his endless life proof of that.

His crew was not dead, not in any way that may truly matter. Rather, they sat in limbo thanks to a god long thought dead—a goddess that Tom had betrayed.

Thetis had been beautiful, strong, and perhaps the most coveted woman in antiquity at one time. Tom, who had gone by a name he had long forgotten at that time, had wooed the goddess, and perhaps at one time he would have said he even loved her. Together, they had seven sons, but only one would grow to be a man, the others lost to mortality. Thetis had been driven mad with grief, and Tom had closed himself off completely.

Perhaps it was a mixture of pride and the folly of his youth that had led him to betray her. The now faded memories of sailing with a band of his brothers had filled his mind then, and Tom had decidedly wanted more. He knew his wife held great magic in her hands, and he had begged her to use it to secure him power over the seas. Of course, she had been reluctant at first, warning him of the dangers that came from such a request, but Tom had been insistent. The first moment he held the star in his hand, he knew he had doomed himself.

He had left shortly after, leaving his wife heartbroken and his son in the care of a trusted friend. His wife had bestowed power to him, and Tom was ever the fool to think that it had been anything other than her final act of revenge.

He and his crew were doomed to limbo, to wander the seas forever craving more from those who were unfortunate to cross their paths. Time passed around them, and it wasn’t long until Tom learned of his son’s tragic fate, mourning him as best he could despite the never-ending greed that gripped his heart. Time marched forever forward, and soon Tom took on new name after new name until one day he realized he had no memory of who he once was.

The star had been lost to him, having lost it in a gamble or having misplaced it at some point—he wasn’t sure. He wanted it back though, but no matter how hard he tried, the star remained lost to him. The magic cursed to him by his estranged wife, however, made him slave to the whims of the ocean, his name crossing into legend then myth. He took up the moniker of Davy Jones, a name that now struck fear into the heart of every sailor that sailed the seven seas.

All except one.

It was a dreary day when Tom felt the call. Mist clung to his skin as the ship moved forward in the dark waves, an eery silence surrounding him when he felt the call of his name.

It had taken a while for him to notice the first time it happened. His name a beacon on the waves for those sentenced to death on the ocean’s surface. But, soon he realized the call that stirred deep within him. Where the call came, treasure awaited.

Tom signaled to the helmsman to change course, the ship creaking in protest against the crashing waves. Still, the ship spurred on at an unnatural pace, and it wasn’t long before Tom realized he had been summoned to the shore off of southern Massachusetts. He frowned at the location, choosing to go ashore himself and leave his crew behind until he could determine what was happening.

Tom secured the lifeboat up onto the shore, confident that it was far enough inland that the tide wouldn’t pull it back out should he take long. The sand shifted beneath his feet as he walked along the shore, the summons guiding him to where he needed to go. The sun was drifting towards the skyline, the sparse clouds above streaming past up above as his eyes scanned the beach for what he was looking for. It wasn’t long before he came upon a familiar figure sitting amongst the rocks.

Pete was older than Tom had last seen him, only three years having passed since the last time they had seen each other—ten since the first time they had met. Strands of grey started to spot against Pete’s temples, lines littering his face to give him a more distinguished look. He looked up as Tom approached, smiling in way of greeting as the old, sea captain came to a stop beside him, dropping down next to him with a grunt. Tom pulled out his pipe, striking a match and puffing on the old, wooden piece as he let out a sigh.

“Been a while since I seen you,” he offered up after a moment’s silence. Pete nodded with a hum, turning his attention back to the sea.

“It has,” Pete agreed.

“Didn’t exactly part on the best of terms last time,” Tom continued.

“No,” Pete acquiesced. “We didn’t.”

“I don’t have the power to bring the dead back, Pete,” the older man reminded him. “The magic doesn’t work that way.”

“So you said,” Pete muttered, and Tom let out another sigh.

“I’d bring Nick back if I could,” he frowned, shoulders stiff. “You know that.”

Nick’s death had been a terrible accident—a stray bullet lodging into his heart during the heat of battle. Pete had taken it hard, locking himself away to mourn the loss of his most trusted friend. Nick had been a good man, though he had his secrets. Pete had mentioned that Nick had a wife and child tucked somewhere secret that he’d visit from time to time. Not even Pete knew where Nick would run off to during those times.

“I do,” Pete agreed. The two sat in silence for a few moments more before Tom rolled his shoulders, inhaling the tobacco smoke once more.

“So why’ve you brought me out here, then?” Tom prodded.

“Do you remember that girl I told you about?”

Tom paused. He did remember Pete mentioning a girl he’d been spending time with. “Penny, right?” He asked.

Pete nodded, a small smile creeping on his face at the mention of her name. Tom vaguely recalled seeing the girl on one of his last visits with Pete, a pretty thing with a fire that matched the young captain’s. Tom was surprised that she had managed to stick around.

“What about her?” Tom asked, peering over at the other captain.

“We’re married now.”

Tom started at that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever peg Pete as the marrying type, but he supposed he wasn’t one to talk.

“Married,” he echoed with a low hum.

“Two years now. Three in April,” Pete grinned.

“You called me out here to tell me that you’re married?” Tom snorted, the embers of his pipe glowing in the fading light as he inhaled once more.

“Actually,” Pete started, “I’m here to ask a favor.”

“A favor,” Tom echoed once more, this time with a frown. Pete knew there was a price to Tom’s favors—it was the way the magic worked.

“Penny and I have been trying for a family,” Pete explained, “but we haven’t had any luck. I see the way she tries to seem like it doesn’t bother her, but I also see the way she looks after the kids in the village. I want to give her everything I can, Tom. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t try everything?”

“You know there’ll be a price,” Tom warned him, casting a look his way. “There’s always a price to pay for these things.”

“Whatever it is,” Pete murmured, “I’ll pay it.”

“Why?” Tom retorted. “Why would you even risk it?”

Pete smiled at him, a soft look in his ocean blue eyes. “I love her, Tom.”

“Love is for fools,” Tom scoffed.

“Love is the price we pay to feel something in this world, Tom,” Maverick said, looking at his friend knowingly. Tom snorted, shaking his head.

“Fool’s fare then,” Tom relented. Pete’s head tilted back as he laughed.

“Call it what you like,” he chortled, “but the facts remain. Now are you going to help me or not?”

Tom considered him for a moment. What Pete was asking was no small task, but perhaps…

“Tell me,” he spoke. “What do you picture your life being?”

Pete thought for a moment.

“Penny wants a child regardless, but I think I want a son that I can pass my legacy onto. A son to teach the ways of sailing and ride on the waves together,” he paused. “Yes, a son.”

Tom hummed with a nod. He could work with that. He could manipulate the magic in that one, small way.

“The price for a life is a life in return,” he warned. “To gain your son, you forfeit your life after seven years.”

Pete hummed, rubbing at his chin as he considered the price. Tom waited, wondering if his friend would forfeit his own life to make this woman happy. Pete wasn’t a particularly selfish man, but he had a zest for life that was rare in Tom’s experience. People like Pete lived for the love of life, and the thought of willingly forfeiting that should seem like an impossible decision to the young captain.

“I’ll do it.”

Tom blinked, momentarily letting his mask of impassiveness slip to show his surprise at Pete’s decision. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat as he shifted.

“Alright,” he conceded. “If you’re sure about this.”

Pete nodded. “I am.”

Tom felt the magic swirl within him, building as he readied to make the deal. Slowly, he extended his hand, settling on the wording of the spell.

“To gain a child,” he said slowly, “you forfeit your life.”

Pete nodded, grasping his outstretched hand. “I get my son, Penny get’s a child, and you gain a soul.”

Tom frowned. Magic was specific, it was precise. He wasn’t sure if Pete’s added words would affect the spell, but he was sure that he had enough control to alter that one piece.

The magic settled around them, a low hum that rang in Tom’s ears as he let go of Pete’s hand. He took a long drag from his pipe, holding the burning smoke in his lungs before blowing out long and slow.

“So, tell me,” Pete grinned. “What treasures have you found since I last saw you?”

Years passed, and Tom’s plan worked. Soon after his deal with Pete, he received the news that his friend would become a father, and nine months later he received word that Pete’s daughter had been born, a healthy, happy child according to Pete. It was a couple of years later when he first met the little girl.

Tom had never seen his friend look so happy, smiling and bouncing the toddler on his hips as he cooed at her, earning small giggles that made the young captain grin even wider.

“She may not be my son,” Pete told him, holding the little girl close as she dozed off against his shoulder, tiny thumb popped into her mouth, “but she’s my little guppy.”

Tom would have gagged if it weren’t so sweet. He thought back to his long dead son, how small the boy had been in his own arms, and warmth stirred in his chest.

“I’m happy it worked out,” he replied.

“I know you finagled the magic,” Pete told him. “No son means no forfeiture of my life, right?”

“That’s the idea,” Tom admitted. “You’ll live a long, happy life with your family.”

It was two years later that Pete brought a young boy named Bradley into his home, dubbing the boy Rooster.

“He reminds me of Nick,” Pete told Tom one day. “Looks just like him. So much so, that sometimes I wonder if Bradley really is-”

“Don’t,” Tom interrupted, placing a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t torture yourself with possibilities. Just focus on what you have now.”

Pete had smiled and nodded, content with the old captain’s words. Several more years passed, and the two children grew up as Pete grew older. Six years after Pete Mitchell had brought the boy into his home, he sealed his fate.

“Bradley’s grown strong,” he told Tom, pride evident in his voice. “He’s almost ready to take his first job. And, Guppy’s growing up so fast. She takes after her mother, I think.”

Tom snorted, but didn’t voice his opinion that Guppy took after her father rather than her mother—her stubbornness and talent for mischief qualities she inherited directly from the man who sat next to him.

“A son and a daughter,” Pete sighed. “I couldn’t be more proud to have them.”

It was like time stopped moving for a moment, magic stirred in the air like waves against rocks in the surf, crashing into Tom so hard, it knocked the air from his lungs. He started at Pete in horror, terror coursing through his veins for the first time in eons.

“What did you say?” His voice sounded small, even to his ears. “Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“I do,” Pete nodded, unfazed by the magic that now counted down the moments he had left to walk the earth. “And I’ll say it again. Bradley is my son, Tom. I won’t deny him that part in my life to save myself time.”

Tom continued to stare at him. Had he misjudged his friend so badly as to think that this boy would not hold such a place in his heart? Pete was different from the young man he had met over two decades before. Where he had been an inferno in his youth, scorching anyone or anything that got in his way, now he was the steady fire found in the hearth—a beacon to those around him.

“Seven years,” Tom murmured, hanging his head. “You have seven years.”

“Don’t feel bad, Tom,” Pete said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You did for me what you could, and you didn’t have to do that much. You allowed me more years with my family than our deal allowed, and for that I’m grateful. More than you can imagine.”

Tom shook his head, letting out a growl of frustration at his friend’s apparent lack of self preservation. Pete shot him a sympathetic smile.

“Guess the magic got its way in the end, huh?” Pete chuckled, though there was no humor in his tone.

Tom said nothing, and the two sat in silence long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.

Tom ran into Pete several times during those years, either on the sea during their adventures, or when he’d pop into the local tavern. During that time, Tom himself had fallen in love for the first time in ages. She was a pretty, young thing with chestnut waves that rolled down her back and eyes to match. Laughter that filled Tom’s heart with a mixture of warmth and longing, and how he wished she’d pay him more mind.

Kate was her name, and Tom was in love. He watched from afar as she chased after some local boy. Tom wished it was him that she yearned for, but he would love her from afar.

No good would come from entangling himself in her life.

He watched after her for years, content to be her silent protector. In between his moments of quiet pining for her, he’d visit Pete, cognizant of the fact that his friend’s time was quickly running out.

“Have you told them?” He asked one day, Pete looking up from the map he had been studying. Pete grimaced, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t want them to lose sleep over the inevitable. When I go, it will be a sudden, tragic accident. They’ll grieve, but they won’t torture themselves with the notion that they could have done anything to prevent it.”

Tom nodded, fidgeting with his pipe as a moment passed.

“I think I know what you meant about love now,” he admitted. Pete’s brow arched, the twinge of a smile evident on his lips.

“Don’t give me that look,” Tom groused, scowling at the younger man. “I’m only telling you because you’ll be dead soon enough, anyway.”

Pete threw his head back in laughter, Tom slowly joining in after a moment.

“Never one to beat around the bush, aye?” Pete chuckled, wiping a tear from his eyes as aftershocks of laughter rattled through him.

“Never,” Tom agreed with a grin.

That had been the last time Tom saw Pete. The magic had pulled tight at his chest, poised like a string before snapping, and Tom was left with a breathless, empty feeling. The tears came unbidden, a sob choking up out of him as he hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt sorrow like this, the last time he had allowed himself to feel close to anyone. Now he remembered why he was cold, why he gave himself to the ocean beneath him.

He would not make that mistake again.

As if to hammer home the lesson, news of Kate’s death reached him only days after. She had confessed her love to that same, stupid boy she had been chasing, and the boy had denied her affections. In her despair, she had thrown herself into the sea, drowning beneath the surface of the waves.

Tom was livid. How dare that boy take such a thing as love for granted. It was no matter, Tom would be the one to teach him a lesson.

And a lesson he had certainly bestowed. The boy had begged for mercy, but there was none to be found in Tom’s empty, aching heart. He thought of his friend who had given up everything in the name of love, something the boy before him had spit on as far as Tom was concerned. And so he had cursed the boy with the very curse that had been bestowed upon him lifetimes ago.

If more is what the boy wanted, it was more he would seek.

Tom had turned his back on the boy, the cries for mercy blending in with the wind as he disappeared into the shadows of night.

He saw the boy six years later during a visit to see you and Bradley, the blond having the swagger of any young captain, and his demeanor almost reminded him of another captain from so long ago.

Almost.

Tom hated him. Hated the very sight of him, and he was sure it was written all over his face as he scowled at him. Of course, the boy had no idea that he was talking to the very man that had cursed him so many years before. Tom made it a point to not let his civilian form slip to reveal the cursed soul that lay beneath. The night he had cursed the young man, he had let his control slip, revealing the skeleton of the man he truly was.

He knew better than to raise his voice in opposition to the idea that Bradley join this man’s crew. Much like the man who raised him, Bradley was more inclined to do the thing you told him not to do—a trait that Tom had found most annoying in Pete. However, he watched you trail after your brother, desperation clouding your judgement, and Tom shook his head in pity. He could try to speak up, but that would risk his exposure. Besides, there was no guarantee Bradley would listen to him, let alone believe him. He watched helplessly as Bradley signed his life away, signed away his future.

Tom could not meddle in the affairs of common folk, not without a price anyway. Stopping Bradley would have meant paying a terrible price, one that Tom would have no control over. Cursing under his breath, he watched as you stormed out of the tavern, tears streaming down your face. A wave of sadness washed over him, and he hung his head lower, squeezing his eyes shut against the realization that you truly would lose everyone you held dear in your life. All because of him. He had played a part in creating your family, and now he was the reason you would lose everyone completely. You’d be alone, just like him.

“I’m so sorry, Guppy.”

A/N: I'm so excited to share this one with you guys. This chapter has been swirling around in my head basically since the inception of the fic. I loved getting to explore the backstory of Tom and his origins as well as his friendship with Maverick. Did you pick up on the mythology? Can you guess Tom's true name? Only one more chapter to go and then we have our epilogue!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[gothic-thoughts]

Get What You Ask For

(sry bout the mini hiatus, almost scrapped this shit like twice and had nothin else to post 🙄)

Ghost Riley x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Princess!Reader, Black Knight!Ghost, Bodyguard!Ghost

Part 2: Right Here

CW: trying to seduce him but he flips it on you, fingering in bath, not proofread

Word Count: 2182 (give or take)

Yes, you were the princess but that doesn't mean you didn't have a curfew. It was for your safety but you didn't care. The village was always prettier at night and you can only see the edge of it from your window. It wasn't fair and knowing that, you always managed to escape from the palace. Tonight was supposed to be the same as all the others until you opened your door and jumped back, clutching your chest at the sight of a Black Knight blocking your doorway. Despite his dark metal helmet resting under his arm, you still couldn’t see his face thanks to the black face mask that hid everything but his eyes.

"Princess." He bowed at his waist respectfully.

You stammer in confusion for half a second before composing yourself enough to bow back. “Good evening...?”

"You really like pushing your curfew a little farther every night, don't you?" He said in a low, mocking tone.

“And who, pray tell, are you?”

"I’m Simon Riley; they call me 'Ghost'."

“And what are you doing at my door...?”

"I have been assigned as your new bodyguard. It seems I've come at the perfect time."

You scoff in disbelief. “New? What happened to my old one?”

"Fired.” He said bluntly, sidestepping you as he walked into your room, “I'm afraid it's been decided that he cannot be trusted with your safety."

You groan slightly, shutting the door. “Who decided that!? The maids couldn’t have, they always comment on how good of an influence he was being.”

Simon didn’t answer for a bit, making you rest your hands on your hips and watch as he looked around. You watch his eyes dart about, taking note of everything in your room from the windows to the bathing area. He peeked through the curtains and looked out into the gardens below but little did you know he was envisioning how you escaped every night. He chuckles to himself and when you call his name in annoyance, he pulls the curtains shut before turning to look at you.

“Not a good enough influence it seems, seeing that you’re all dressed up for another secret night out.”

“Tell me who got Brian fired!”

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, "The King, Princess." He said in a deadpan voice.

“What? You’re joking.”

“I don’t get paid to joke with you, I get paid to watch you.”

“That... That bastard hired a Black Knight to watch me instead of a different palace guard!? I know it might not have mattered, but I am not some criminal! Ugh, I can’t believe him!”

"I'm sure you'll live."

“Hush! You can't stay anyway, I haven't bathed yet so you'll have to go...”

“You have a divider; I’ll stand by the bed.”

“Uh, no. You're supposed to stand outside and guard the door.”

"Maybe your old guard. I've been given permission to remain by your side at all times.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

"Did I stutter?" Ghost starts walking, “Since you managed to sneak out, what, your father told me 15 times? You're stuck with me 24/7 until further notice, Princess, whether you like it or not. Bathing is the least of your worries."

The Black Knight was now standing right in front of you while you tried to play off how intimidating his intensity was with a disinterested groan despite feeling slightly defeated. You had planned to see the fountain in front of the village gates tonight only for it to be ruined by your father and your newly assigned guard dog. You begrudgingly walk over to the bathing area and pull the divider in front of the tub with a huff of frustration before running the bath. You put your hair up in a bun then drop your gown to the floor as a desperate, last-choice idea popped into your head. 

An idea that you've never tried on a knight, or had to try. Once naked, you step into the bubble bath and sit down, leaning back against the porcelain until I was up to my neck in hot water and soap bubbles. Ghost leaned against your bedpost, waiting for you to finish. He was used to staying by princesses and guarding them, but you were more of a pain than the others. He glanced at your discarded gown and then at the frosted glass separating you from him. You clear your throat, ready to put your plan into action.

“What village are you from, Ghost?”

"None that you would recognize, Miss." He called back. 

“I'm guessing you’re betrothed.”

"What makes you say that?"

“Well you're a big, strong knight... a soldier. Women adore feeling protected... So I was thinking one had tried to get you off the market.”

Your comment caught him off guard for a moment but he quickly recomposed himself, looking at the between you two again. 

"I’m not wed, Princess.”

“Mm... no women have captured your heart~? That's a shame...”

He scoffs to himself, rolling his eyes, “You think so?”

“I would think women would be clamoring to see what you look like under your helmet since intensity can be very attractive.”

"Princess, how long do you plan to stay in that tub?"

“I, um... need my towel! I must've left it out there, could you... bring it over?”

His eyes narrowed; it wasn't unusual for princesses to ask him for things, but this just seemed a bit too sketchy. He weighed his options for a moment before sighing to himself. He walked over to the bed and found the towel you had left behind then slowly approached the divider, his eyes narrowed the closer he got all while you smiled at the fact your plan was working.

“You can come around... I'm under the bubbles...”

Simon hesitated for a moment, getting the feeling you were up to something. He steps around the wall of frosted glass and glances at the bubbles that shroud every part of your body except the top of your breasts and up. He sighed before slowly stepping closer to the foot of your tub, his eyes never leaving your obscured body.

"Here's your towel, Princess."

He held out the towel towards the water, his eyes darting to the bubbles for a moment, thinking as you leaned forward, risking exposing more of your breasts to reach for the towel. He knows a princess would never do that— risk their modesty for a towel. Right as your fingers were about to get the soft fabric, Ghost quickly moved the towel just barely out of your reach, eyebrow-raising as your face changed.

“Wha- Ghost—” 

"You didn’t really think I’d fall for that, did you Princess?”

“What are you talking about, I haven't done anything!”

"You think I was born yesterday?" He steps around the bathtub until he squats behind you, whispering, "You and I both know that you were trying to pull.”

You look over your shoulder, “What are you talking about?”

“The old 'accidentally drop the towel' trick."

“I was not!”

"Oh and I'm supposed to believe that?"

“Yes, I may have snuck out but I—”

“You sound extremely defensive for someone who didn't try to pull that stunt."

“Because I didn’t! I would never!”

"If you say so, Princess. Then why did you ask me to bring you your towel?"

“Because...”

You tilt your head to the side to escape the nice feeling of his warm breath on your neck, Even though you tried to move away, you weren't fast enough. When you tilted your head to the side, it only brought his face closer to your neck, his breath grazing over your skin.

“Because...?”

“Because I forgot it—“

"Really?"

“Yes.” You snap, “I didn't know forgetting was an issue.”

“No, the issue is you want your bodyguard to see you...” You hear Simon drop the towel, “Covered in nothing but bubbles...” He gently wraps his hand around your neck, “In the hopes that I’d just crumble and let you go live la vida fucking loca...” He tilts your head back until you can see his eyes, “Just like your last guard did. Is that right?”

You tense, trembling slightly as you search for any words to reply with. How was he doing this to you with fear? You were a Princess— the daughter of his king— he wasn’t supposed to talk to you this boldly, much less touch you like this. You knew he was a different type of knight but that always meant he was brutal and such but this was different.

You were now terrified of him since he didn’t care about any rules or regulations regarding touching a princess, that, and the fact that he could break your neck right here with a single grunt. He was terrifying but you were so consumed by curiosity, you didn’t dare say anything to make him think that you wanted him to stop touching you. A low sigh escaped Ghost’s lips as he looked down at you, his cold eyes meeting yours for the first time.

“You very are a difficult person to guard, you know that?” He gently squeezes your throat, his thumb running over your pulse in a slow, taunting manner, “And the worst part of that is you're only difficult because you won't let me."

You gasp as his other hand comes around and slides down into the bubbles to massage your breasts, rough fingers pinching your nipple and rolling it back and forth.

“Y-you...”

“Mhm? What is it Princess?”

“Y-you can't touch me like th-this...”

He scoffed and tilted your head so you were looking into his eyes again. “So you can try to manipulate me... and now you’re telling me what I can and can’t do?”

“Well, I-I...”

“You’ve been nothing but a nuisance since I arrived, trying to get me to let down my guard. You’ve played your games and now it’s my turn.”

His hands were roaming your body, caressing every inch as he pleased. Eventually, his hand lowers deeper into the water, keeping your head tilted back as his hands slot between your thighs, making you gasp and tense up, looking up at him. He feels you stiffen beneath him but continues to tease your body slowly. He could see that you were having trouble fighting the words on your lips as he explored every inch of your body in the water. Slowly, one of his fingers slips deeper between your legs, gently grazing over your core to test your reaction.

“O-Oh my god...”

“Mm?”

He chuckled lowly and gently massaged between your folds, feeling the warmth radiating from your body. He was slowly getting addicted to it and you were getting so needy. He didn’t want this to end. Simon leaned forward a bit more, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“Still going to sit there and keep insisting that you didn’t try and trick me?”

Your legs try to close. “I-I wasn't...”

He tsked and shoved your thighs back apart, your knees thudding against the inside of the tub, the fingers slipping inside you.

“Keep 'em open.” His lips lightly brushed over your neck, slowly kissing you before moving back up to continue, "Oh and I don’t believe you.”

He said, gently spreading you open for his fingers to push deeper inside with ease. He could feel every twitch you made as he stroked your walls with slow, circular motions.

“I... I should tell my father about this...

He laughed at your comment and his hand stopped, pulling back from you. He was so close to just giving in and taking you completely.

“You could, Princess." He said bluntly while looking at your flustered face, “Be sure not to leave out the part about you seducing me.”

“You're a Black Knight, you’re not supposed to be seduced...”

He curls his fingers inside you. “And you’re supposed to behave, but that hasn’t stopped either of us from breaking the rules.”

Your head falls back further and rests on the edge of the tub. “Y-you're... a bastard.”

“Mhm.” He said as he gently ran his hand over your clit, pressing a finger into your warmth, “And you’re a spoiled fucking brat.”

You look back down, whimpering at how sexy his muscular arm looked disappearing into the bubbles. His hand moved to grip your cheek so you were looking at him again, loving how flustered and needy you looked as you stared up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wonder what your father would think of this.” His thumb gently grazed over your bottom lip, “He’d be livid wouldn’t he~?”

“Shut it...”

“Or you’ll do what?”

“I'll... I'll get you f-fired...”

His fingers curl, pumping in and out even faster, using his other hand to cover your mouth.

“You won’t.” He hums and gently massages circles on your clit with his thumb, a small smile dancing across his lips, “You’re too busy enjoying this.”

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Part 2 right here y'all

[novaursa]

Aemond's Lament

- Summary: Aemond faces Daemon above the God's Eye, for you.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: I wanted to write something short and heart-wrenching, because I'm a tragic person. It's inspired by Bear McCreary's song.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 1 100+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sky above the God’s Eye is painted in shades of dusk and fire. The crimson dragon Caraxes cuts through the darkening heavens, and below, the still waters of the lake ripple beneath the thrumming beat of Vhagar's wings. Aemond Targaryen, his one good eye fixed on the sky, does not see the beauty of the scene. His heart is a hollow shell, echoing with the loss of everything that mattered.

His thoughts are not on the battle, nor on the death that looms close with each heartbeat. Instead, his mind is consumed by a single name, a single face. Y/N, his sweet sister, slain by Daemon's hand. She had been the light in a life filled with shadows, the warmth in the cold halls of the Red Keep. Now she lay beneath the earth, lost to him forever.

Alone, she sleeps in the shirt of a man…

The words sing in his mind, a haunting melody of sorrow and regret. His three wishes had been simple once, whispered to the gods in the dead of night. The first, that she be spared the pain of this world—the treachery, the blood, the horror of their family's war. Aemond had wanted nothing more than to shield her from it all, to see her smile remain untouched by the darkness that surrounded them.

But his wish had failed. She had known pain, known the fury of battle, the terror of seeing her beloved dragon, Silverwing, torn from the skies by the very man who now circled above Aemond like a vulture over a dying beast.

With my three wishes clutched in her hand…

His second wish, oh, how he had longed for it—for her to know love, true and pure, the kind he could never give her as her brother. He had wanted to see her cherished, but jealousy had burned in his chest whenever he imagined her with another. Still, he had wished it, even if it was a lie. Because how could she have ever loved another? Not when he had been there, watching over her with eyes that lingered too long, thoughts that strayed too far from what a brother should feel.

The love he felt for her had been a curse and a blessing all at once. A poison that had seeped into his veins, twisting his soul with desires that no man should harbor for his blood. He had never spoken of it, never dared, but it had been there, a constant ache that only deepened as the years passed.

When she finds love may it always stay true…

His second wish had been for her happiness, but what did happiness matter when her life had been taken from her? Daemon had stolen her from him, ripped her from the world like a cruel joke. The bastard had known what her death would do to Aemond, had done it with glee, had smiled that dark, laughing smile as Y/N and Silverwing fell.

Aemond’s fingers tightened on Vhagar’s reins, the knuckles white with fury. The rage that burned in his chest now was all that kept him moving. His sister, his sweet, beautiful sister, was gone. Her laughter, her soft voice, her teasing smiles—all gone. And he had not been there to protect her.

Daemon had known that killing her would be the only way to draw Aemond out from Harrenhal. It had worked. Aemond would not have stayed hiding behind stone walls while his sister’s death went unanswered. He had come, with Vhagar’s fire in his heart and vengeance burning brighter than the flames.

But wish no more…

The final wish had been the cruelest of all. He would have given anything—everything—to have her back. He would have traded his life, his soul, the entirety of the realm, just for one day. One day to hear her voice again, to see her eyes open, to feel her hand in his. One day to tell her what he could never say.

My life you can take…

He would have done anything. But wishes were for the weak, and gods did not listen to the cries of the damned. Aemond knew that now. There would be no waking her from the sleep of death. No return from the dark depths where her soul had gone. His wishes had been empty, hollow pleas to a world that cared not for love or grief.

To have her please just one day wake…

Daemon circled above, his dragon screeching in anticipation. The Prince of the City, the Rogue Prince, had been the cause of all of Aemond’s misery. This was not just about the war, the throne, or the realm. This was personal. This was vengeance. Aemond could see it in Daemon’s eyes as he descended lower, closer. There was nothing but hatred between them now.

“Come down and face me, coward,” Aemond snarled, his voice raw with fury. His eye glowed with the fire of vengeance, the urge to kill. “You took her from me!”

Daemon's laughter echoed through the skies, a cold, mocking sound. "I took what was always meant to be mine, boy."

The words ignited a deeper rage in Aemond, a fire that threatened to consume him. His hand reached for his sword, the weight of Dark Sister on his back a grim reminder that death was near.

"You will die for her," Aemond growled, urging Vhagar higher. "You will burn."

Daemon's smile was cold as ice, his own sword glinting in the dying light. "We shall see, nephew."

And then the battle began.

Caraxes dove with the grace of a serpent, his claws outstretched, and Vhagar answered with the fury of a storm. The dragons collided in the sky, their roars splitting the heavens, and below, the waters of the God’s Eye churned as if in fear of the blood about to be spilled.

Aemond fought with all the strength he had left, but his heart was not in the battle. His mind was with Y/N, his sister, his love. He could almost hear her voice, soft and gentle, telling him to let go, to find peace. But there would be no peace, not for him. Not until Daemon lay dead beneath his blade.

But fate had other plans.

In a final, terrible moment, the two dragons twisted together in a deadly dance. Claws ripped through scales, teeth sank into flesh, and the sky turned to fire. Aemond’s grip slipped, and he saw Daemon leap from Caraxes with Dark Sister drawn. There was a flash of steel, a scream of dragons, and then—Darkness.

The cold waters of the God’s Eye rose up to meet him, swallowing him whole. As he fell, his last thoughts were not of vengeance or war.

They were of her.

Y/N.

If he could have just one more day... one more day with her…

But there were no more wishes left to make.And so, Prince Aemond Targaryen, last of his name, died with his sister's name on his lips, lost forever in the depths of the God’s Eye.