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swordgrace · 7 months ago

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𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘.

༺ aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: in the aftermath of rook’s rest, you seek aemond out to inquire about his wellbeing. instead, you find him somewhere else — somewhere unexpected. (set after S2 EP4).

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 5.2K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni) , spoilers for s2 ep4, public sex / risk of getting caught, knifeplay, imbalance of power, rough sex, darkish!aemond, dom!aemond, p in v sex (unprotected), oral (f!receiving), fingering, brief tiddy sucking, groping, biting / marking, hair pulling, choking, fucking right in front of the iron throne, inaccurate high valyrian, brief dirty talk, lots of aemond’s inner thoughts, breeding kink if you squint, aemond is extremely possessive of the reader to an unhealthy degree.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: to preface, I am working on requests, this just happened to make its way out of my brain before anything else did. This was inspired by the single shot of Aemond standing in front of the Iron Throne in the S2 EP5 trailer, you can tell how desperate I got as soon as I saw it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! There will be a Jace fic dropping tomorrow, too! ❤️

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄 — a seat of power constructed by Aegon the Conqueror in the aftermath of a bloodied war, forged from thousands of surrendered swords.

In the days of Aegon the Conqueror, it was said that the Throne was sometimes too high to climb, a jagged labyrinth of blades melded by dragon’s fire, a throne fit for any ruler. Men impaled themselves upon one another’s blades for it, turned against one another, endless betrayals and treacheries ensued all for the sake of the endgame, to see themselves upon the Throne.

Brother turned against brother — you didn’t expect anything less from Aemond, whose desire to exact revenge boiled just beneath the surface. The Battle at Rook’s Rest had proved a slaughter on all fronts, between the decimation of both Cole’s armies and the castle they laid siege upon, to the death of the Princess Rhaenys and her dragon, Melys.

Whispers spread through the Red Keep in regards to King Aegon’s condition, bones crushed beneath the weight of Sunfyre, who plummeted from the skies in a ball of fire. His flesh was scorched, half of his body melded to the Valyrian Steel armor he wore, burnt beyond recognition.

If they were to be believed, King Aegon was gravely wounded — and if a fatality ensued, who would then bear the mantle of King?

A restless dusk gripped King’s Landing as the surviving soldiers from Cole’s armies arrived at the city gates, King Aegon amongst the wounded. In what you considered to be a mass panic and hysteria, Maesters rushed to diligently attend to their King, who seemed to be meeting a simmering grave inside of his armor — it would be his tomb if they weren’t careful.

Merely a handmaiden and servant to nobility, the antics of your masters didn’t interest you — you were wholly preoccupied with your own survival and self-preservation, amongst other things. It was said that Aemond and Vhagar had swarmed the battlefield and come to King Aegon’s defense, but by the time they had, Aegon had been swallowed by dragonfire.

Part of you had difficulty believing that Aemond truly attempted to save his elder brother, given Aemond’s embittered sentiments. Your relationship with the Prince had transcended all bonds of propriety — and if anyone were to find out, they would likely have your head for sullying his virtue.

Nevertheless, as chaos swarmed around you, you knew exactly who to seek out. Queen Alicent had little desire to be hounded by handmaidens while her eldest son struggled to hang onto his own life, something you could understand. Instead, you made for Aemond’s chambers, the route embedded into your mind.

You sought him — all of him. His lilac hue, a maelstrom of forlorn emotions, and his silvery tresses, like cascading silk, embedded themselves into your mind. His cunning countenance and beguiled expression were like hot-iron brands cast onto your thoughts, tormenting you with each waking moment.

As you stepped closer to the Throne Room, no longer guarded by Kingsguard, you saw the great door ajar — no King atop the throne. You wondered if he would live, Aegon — a drunken, broken man who preferred his cups and whores over ruling — or if he would perish.

You knew who would sit the Iron Throne, should Aegon fall.

A heavy darkness had befallen the throne room, fitting for the many tragedies, like the gloom of a shadow haunting all who dared to enter. Curiosity gripped you as you stepped inside, a place well above your station, yet you wondered if there was anyone inside.

The doors remained shut, save for the one you slipped through, the gap slim. Flickering braziers provided some illumination to such a grandeur hall, but it seemed so dour and lifeless without the presence of the day, without subjects fluttering in and out. Instead, it provided an ominous sense of dread, as if luring those inside with dark omens and false promises.

A familiar crown of silvery tresses stood at the very center, before the throne — he didn’t need to turn around for you to know who it was. He seemed entirely unscathed by the battle at Rook’s Rest, hands carefully folded behind his back, posture poised and dignified.

Aegon’s dagger flashed within his right hand, clutched tightly at his side. You wondered how he had acquired the blade so swiftly after a tragedy — but you knew. You had always known of Aemond’s nature, of his restrained resentment towards his brother, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Aemond.” Your voice reverberated throughout the throne room, carrying a fair distance as you closed the door behind you. The studded mahogany groaned in protest, yet bent to your will as it closed with a noisy thud. Admittedly, you were surprised to see him here, and not in the comfort of his chambers.

He didn’t move, rigid and still as you quietly approached, dresses sweeping across the smooth stone beneath you. His violet hues remained transfixed upon the Iron Throne, a throne that would soon be his, if fate favored him. So many swords, so much strife and conflict that forged such a chair — so much bloodshed.

Aemond often wondered what the weight of the crown would feel like upon his brow — and even then, he knew he would wear it better than Aegon ever could. He had stood by the wayside for far too long, learned in his studies and a talented swordsman, wondering if it would all have some reward, some payoff.

Now, his opportunity was swiftly approaching.

Whatever anger he’d often kept leashed, it had struck out, like the bite of a poisonous viper, sinking into its prey with all its bitter viciousness. It was the same tempestuous rage that had lashed at Lucerys Velaryon, and now it had struck his brother, Aegon the Magnanimous.

A stupid sobriquet for a stupid man — a drunken fool. Aemond would simply pass it off as an unfortunate accident, with Aegon carelessly stepping into the line of fire whilst tangling with the Queen Who Never Was. Swift decisions had to be made on his part, his brother a victim of such action.

Any silver-tongued words that would placate his Mother, he was prepared to let them fly. Aemond knew enough to know that the consequences would be slim, and those of true action and cruel intentions would take Aegon’s place — men like himself.

Soft footfalls fell across black stone, and you called his name again, like a siren’s song luring the sailor into deeper waters. “Aemond.” It was saccharine, dripping with genuine warmth that the Prince was simply unaccustomed to.

The unexpected lull of your voice broke his fixation, and he looked to you with a gaze full of desire. It was a farcry from the frustrated, despondent man you’d encountered days prior following the incident at the brothel. There was a newfound fire within his eyes, a confidence restored — a sense of triumph.

Admittedly, you were rather perplexed by this invigorated side to Aemond — that wild gleam within his lilac eye only seemed to grow in intensity as you approached him. “I heard the news of what happened to your brother,” You began, pondering his reaction. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

The admiration he had for you only seemed to blossom, knowing that you were simply keeping up appearances for his sake. Aemond’s mouth tilted into the ghost of a smirk, feigning melancholy despite the truth of his own actions. “It was a horrible thing, what happened to the King,” He uttered, glancing toward the throne. “I wish for his swift recovery.”

A facade was a mere understatement — you could almost taste the smug bemusement that rested within Aemond’s tone. The slight quirk of his mouth, the manner in which he spoke — his sympathies for Aegon were nonexistent.

“As any good brother would.” You replied, stepping closer until you stood before the Iron Throne, gaze falling upon the thousands of swords swarming the seat, blades of many shapes and sizes. You wondered about the people behind each sword — who swung it, what their lives must’ve been like.

A brief hum escaped Aemond, who observed you hawkishly as you approached, violet hue greedily drinking you in as he had many times before. You had stood so faithfully by his side, never admonished him for the brash actions taken against his family, never deemed him pathetic for what happened at the brothel.

He cared little for your station, little for your status as a lowborn — if he sat the Iron Throne, he could have whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if you were a commoner, Aemond could envision you as his wife, a Queen — no longer bowing to the whims of greater men and women who cared little for you.

“Did my Mother dismiss you this evening?” Aemond questioned, digits tense around the pommel of Aegon’s knife — now his. Seeing as he was no longer fit to carry the weapon, it was only just that it pass to his brother, his next of kin.

“She did,” A gentle exhale escaped you, one that allowed you to maintain your composure. Being in Aemond’s presence seemed to make you dizzy with desire with each passing moment — not a new sentiment, but an intoxicating one. “I was coming to find you, to see if you were well after the battle.”

Shamelessly, Aemond became quite aroused at the thought of you wandering about the Red Keep with the single-minded desire to see him. His blood ran hot after the battle — the surge of adrenaline did not lessen in your presence.

His jaw tensed slightly as he appraised you, taking a step closer, brazenly closing the distance between you both. He could smell your perfume, the warm bouquet of flowers and a touch of honey. “How thoughtful.” His voice dropped to a low purr, dripping with the first inklings of lust.

Your breath hitched, words turning to ash upon your tongue as your fingers curled into your dress. Aemond enticed you in ways that no man had before — and he saw you, a woman beneath the gowns of a servant. The hammering of your heart within your chest had stirred something powerful — your want for him consumed you like a tidal wave.

Before you could utter his name, he descended like a starving wolf to kiss you, open-mouthed and bleeding lust. You shivered, wanting to coax him into returning to his chambers before things became heated. His hand dropped to seize your hip, hauling you closer to him until no space was left between your bodies.

You reciprocated his kiss, able to hear a faint growl of approval building up within his throat. It was fiery and hot, with little concern of who might see you. Aemond was growing emboldened, brazen knowing the power he now held within his grasp.

“We should return to your quarters,” You whispered, a strained whimper tearing past your lips as Aemond kissed your jaw, sucking at the flesh of your neck. “Aemond, we can’t — not here.” Your breathy pleas fell upon deaf ears — what better place to claim you than before his new throne?

“We can,” Aemond murmured, pushing your tresses aside as he claimed your throat, laying waste to your flesh in his rabid kisses and hungry bites. “The rest of the Keep is preoccupied.” His reassurance was threadbare at best, but you were beginning to slip off of the deep end, fingers clawing at his tunic.

“What if someone sees?” Fear trickled into your voice, a subtle fright that Aemond found to be enticing. You worried for your own skin — he could understand that. A moan escaped you as Aemond nipped at your jugular, squeezing at your hips.

You failed to comprehend that he would protect you, shield you if needed. He did not need to justify his obsession for you, just as Aegon never offered any justification for his nightly whore hunts. Aemond seemed quick to soothe your worry, hand clasping at the nape of your neck.

“Then I will have their head,” His delectable purr dropped an octave, scratching the itch within your head. “You needn’t worry, ñuha dōna. I can do whatever I wish.” Aemond assured you, a great fire burning within his lilac hue. The leather of his eyepatch concealed the listless sapphire beneath.

He only needed to serve himself — his family cared little for him, and the world was often against him. He looked forward to facing Daemon whenever the time came, should he be bold enough to challenge him. Aemond dismissed it all — Aegon, his mother, Criston Cole — the only thing that mattered were the both of you.

Aemond’s streak of possessiveness had grown into something uncontrollable, a festering desire to keep you close, spiraling into obsession. You were many things to him, many things he coveted for himself.

After a moment of hesitation, you decided to make things tempting for Aemond, loosening the bodice of your dress. His breath hitched, the noise subtle if one wasn’t observant enough. He seized the back of your head once more, hungrily pressing his lips to yours, consuming you in another heated kiss.

A dour portrait of dusk hovers around the Red Keep, its shadowy tendrils slinking into the throne room. Only moonlight and dying braziers are your guide, and Aemond is at his prettiest whenever he’s touched by the silvery rays. It strikes his narrow visage, paints his silky tresses in pale light.

He is closer to a god now than he is a man — fortunately, you were willing to return to religion if it meant that Aemond was who you worshiped. As much as you liked to believe it was the foundation of your relationship, he thought of it alternatively, the roles reversed.

Your digits slip beneath the overcoat he wore, marred by speckled dirt and brimstone. His broad, sinewy shoulders are concealed by his tunic, and he seems vastly overdressed compared to you, still wearing your servant’s clothes. Aemond had gotten you a dress to wear with him before — you never wore it otherwise.

There is a certain intensity in the way he kisses you, as if each embrace might be your last. In the aftermath of a battle, you understand such sentiments, given the fate of the King and the Princess Rhaenys.

A growl reverberates within the depths of his throat as he pries his mouth away from you, gesturing toward the flight of obsidian steps that ascend toward the Iron Throne. “There,” He uttered, more of a command than a suggestion. “Lay down.”

A shudder rolls down the length of your spine, followed by an onslaught of goosebumps that snake across your flesh like a fever. Your stomach churned with anticipation, filling with the sensation of sloshing heat, burning brighter as each moment passed.

Without question, you step toward the throne, noticing the sharpness of some blades, the dullness of others. You find your footing upon the last step, feeling Aemond stalk closer. The rustling of his belt makes you shiver, only to find the steely chill of the Conqueror’s knife pressed against the dip between your shoulder and neck.

Aemond closes in behind you, caging you against his chest, like a predator swarming hapless prey. His narrow nose brushed along your soft tresses as he dragged the tip of the knife from your shoulder to ribcage. “Shall I cut this from you?” He uttered, digging the Valyrian steel into the fabric of your dress.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you brace yourself for the bite of the knife, for the unruly tear of fabric, but it never comes. Instead, Aemond’s mouth pressed vigorous kisses against your neck, hand seizing you by the throat.

“Ao sytilībagon naejot nyke.” Aemond purred, feeling you turn within his grasp. Desire oozed between you both, an onslaught of carnality soon to follow. His lilac hue flickered over your countenance, drinking in your beauty with unrestrained rapture. You belong to me.

From what little High Valyrian you’d learned in the time you’ve been with Aemond, you strung enough of the sentence together to know what he meant. “Iksan aōhon.” A soft whimper emerged from between your parted lips, noticing the way his pupil dilated with amorous intent.

I am yours.

A flame of obsession roared within his gaze, enough to burn you alive where you stood. Aemond reveled in your submission to him, drank in your devotion — a devotion that would prove fruitful, should he ascend the throne. The tip of the knife prodded into your sternum, and you absentmindedly leaned forward.

Aemond captured your mouth once more, laying claim to you — his paramour. There was nothing sweeter than your desperate mewls and reciprocated passion, the succor of your mouth, the saccharine scent of your perfume.

The both of you descended to the floor, icy and stony as it prodded into your back. He knelt between your legs, gaze momentarily flickering between the shadow of the Iron Throne and your mesmerized visage. Aemond kissed you again, nipping at your lower lip before rucking up your skirts, pushing them toward your hips.

With one knee, he bullied his way in between your thighs, breaths heavier, wrought with anticipation as he lowered his mouth to your collarbone. In one smooth tug, he loosened your bodice, wrestling with the coarse material as he buried his face into your silky skin.

The throes of passion filled the air — short gasps and labored pants accompanied by the constant shuffling of fabric. “Aemond,” You moaned, watching as he bit the leather of his glove, removing the garment in one jerk of his head. Flesh to flesh, he moved to drag his digits along your weeping slit. “Aemond.” Urgency crept into your voice, strung-out by need.

“Hm,” His cajoling hum sent shivers down your spine, heat sloshing around within your stomach. Arousal pooled between your thighs, nectar sticky and gathering swiftly. “What a delicious gift you’ve given me.” Aemond uttered, slender digits continuing to stroke at your cunt, his pace agonizingly slow.

Lifting his fingers to his lips, he let them rest upon his tongue, gathering your juices to taste. A satisfied grunt of approval escaped him, one that made you meld into the floor. It was an uncomfortable surface, yet any thought of discomfort dissipated the moment Aemond’s lips pressed against the inside of your knee.

Instinctively, your hands flew toward his crown of silken tresses, digging in with an ironclad hold. Aemond released a low hiss of satisfaction, pressing hot kisses along the inside of your thigh. He dipped lower, breath fanning across your cunt.

His tongue raked hot embers across your aching core, delivering a series of deliberate strokes that were sure to make you squirm. Aemond preferred to savor you, consuming every drop of your nectar as if it were the finest of wines.

“Aemond!” Your voice rose above the cacophony of lewd noises ensuing below, noisy enough to reverberate throughout the throne room. It worried you, the potential of someone finding you with the Prince-Regent between your legs, but pleasure began to outweigh logic.

His name felt sweet from your mouth — if Aemond had it his way, he would make you say it a thousand times over. The sharp bridge of his nose buried itself into your mound, cock twitching within the leather of his breeches.

Another breathy moan left you, stomach pooling with a rush of molten heat. It oozed between your legs as your arousal fell upon the Prince’s tongue, much to his delight. He did not waste a drop, mouth traveling wherever he pleased, lapping at every inch of your cunt.

The Iron Throne overshadowed the both of you, a jagged mess of swords surrounded by dusk. Slats of moonlight trickled in from the stained glass above, falling across his visage, violet hue sparkling with lust. His lips greedily kissed at your clit, causing your hips to lurch forward.

“Look at me.” A pointed demand spoken from an edged tongue, one that commanded your attention without wavering. With a strangled moan, you turned your head to him, furthering the fire within your belly. Your doe-eyed stare locked onto him, lips falling apart.

As your eyes flickered over his poised features, your hand tightened within his tresses, coaxing him closer toward the apex of your thighs. Aemond wasn’t sly at suppressing the delight he felt in that moment, greedily lapping at your cunt.

You watched, enthralled by the ministrations of his mouth, the flick of his tongue, the tantalizing efforts made to draw you back in. His features were carved like marble, by the steady hand of a sculptor — godly, in the best way possible.

Aemond hoped that your blissful cries would alert the guards — perhaps, all could bear witness to his carnal delights, know that you belonged to him and him alone. His lips crawled to a sluggish pace, made only to torment you as he peppered feather-light kisses against your clit. The lack of pressure nearly made you wretch, digits curling into a fist.

Every fiber of your being felt as if it had been set ablaze, washed within the fires of his affection. He knew your body well, as well as he knew his own, tongue dipping to have a taste of your core as it lightly jutted against your entrance. You whimpered, the noise pathetic and pitiful, yet overwhelmingly eager.

“Please,” You moaned, breathy and clawing for some shred of release, canting your hips forward. Aemond retreated, just enough to leave you writing upon the steps before a sly chuckle reverberated between your thighs. His torture of you was playful and intimate, intended to make you beg. “Please, Aemond!”

How could he deny you when you sounded so sweet?

With a soft hum, Aemond returned to devour your cunt, drink from the nectar that oozed between your legs. His hands situated themselves against your thighs, nails digging in enough to leave behind traces of angered crescent marks.

The heat between your legs intensified, arousal stinging your bones, body bent underneath Aemond’s will as he lapped at your core. His lips were accompanied by his spindly digits as two fingers prodded at your entrance, feeling the crescendo of your whimpers before sinking themselves into your tight cunt.

Squelching intermingled with that of brazen pants and your myriad of moans, a cacophony of lust that permeated the throne room. It felt sinful, to defile the steps of a seat of power, but that shame swiftly contorted into bliss — it felt good.

It felt good to be desired, for Aemond to feel not an ounce of regret or remorse for being with you or for the carnage his actions wrought. The darkness that festered within his eye only grew, once a flickering shade, now growing into something sprawling.

At last, his lips pursed around your clit, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your back arched from the stone, thighs rattling like falling leaves as he brought about your ruin. His digits viciously pumped in and out of your cunt, preparing you for the act that was to follow.

His tongue lashed across his lower lip, not wasting a drop of what sweetness you provided him with. Aemond’s mouth hastily abandoned your cunt, yet the curling of his fingers seemed to make up for the loss of pleasure. You felt his wet lips purse around the pebbled peak of your breast, suckling like a greedy babe.

Aemond’s senses drowned in desire, cock throbbing within his trousers, desperate to be inside of you. It wouldn’t be much longer now as he bit and kissed your chest, letting the work manifest as love bites, evidence of his carnal want for you.

“I need you, Aemond. I need you inside of me.” The suddenness of your words left him reeling, a snarl stirring within his chest as his teeth gnashed into the soft flesh between your breasts. You longed to feel his cock lay waste to your cunt, for him to fuck away his anger, his frustration.

Hastily, his hand flew to the ties of his breeches, loosening the threads of leather. You grabbed the front of his tunic, enough to effectively grab his attention as you pulled him in for a hot kiss. Passion bled through, and you could taste yourself upon his tongue as it danced with yours.

The warmth of his cockhead prodded against your folds, already slick with your cum and his own. It was messy, an entanglement born of desire, of the will to possess one another — a claim eternal. Aemond’s hand snaked toward your hip, the other keeping himself afloat before he snapped forward.

His cock invaded your cunt without any sluggishness to it, the deliberation gone entirely. A wild shimmer glistened within his eye, a domineering edge that seemed to wrestle with itself. Aemond wanted to submit to you, but in the wake of Rook’s Rest, adrenaline and a desire for power simply wouldn’t allow it.

As he fucked you like a hound, as Aegon had colorfully put it, Aemond could see you seated beside him, a crown upon your brow, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. A commoner, crawled from dirt and from nothing, into his arms — into a seat of power that none would dare challenge.

Fantasy consumed him, making him mad with lust. He wanted to crawl beneath your flesh, reside there, hear your heart hammering within your breast. He seemed pleasantly surprised when you claimed his mouth, your tongue advancing past his parted lips.

With your skirts having fallen to the swell of your hips, you hitched one leg around him, hand clawing at his back, between his shoulders. “Aemond,” You moaned, overwhelmed by his barrage of erratic thrusts. His stamina was something to witness as he kept a rather vigorous pace. “My King.”

A low growl stirred within his throat, a stark warning not to continue with your current line of thought. Aemond bit at your lower lip, prompting you to moan into his mouth, but you surprised him again when you reciprocated. Things were intense, far more fiery than they ever had been before.

Battle made him hot — such a sensation wasn’t aided by your presence, intensified tenfold. With Aegon wasting away inside of his chambers, steel melting into his flesh, swarmed by flocks of Maesters, Aemond felt no remorse — none at all as he fucked you before the Iron Throne.

He felt no remorse when he ordered Vhagar to burn his brother, he felt no remorse when he brought you into his bed — and he would feel no remorse when he ascended the throne and made you his Queen.

His cock furiously battered away at your cunt, the lewdness of flesh and intermingled breaths being the only sounds that mattered. That lilac hue of his studied your countenance, the devotion and rapture that rest upon it, your complete and utter joy. Aemond had been blessed with the loveliest creature — you.

The stretch you felt as Aemond invaded your nethers was a pleasant one, your walls tight around his length as he continued to fuck you. Face to face, chest to chest — there was no room left for deception, nowhere left to turn to. With a groan, Aemond kissed you yet again.

“Kesan mazverdagon ao ñuha dāria.” I will make you my Queen; he growled into your ear, biting at the shell, the act enough to make you whimper. He filled your cunt with his cock, the only one that it would ever take. In the heat of the moment, he bit at your neck, hand gripping your thigh so hard that it was bound to leave bruises.

Darkness swallowed the hallowed halls — braziers flickering out completely, leaving only moonlight. Even through the silvery haze, Aemond’s face remained a picture of living perfection, his brow creased with concentration.

The fervor of his pace began to slow, cock throbbing with an onslaught of arousal, one that flooded his body with waves of bliss. He wasn’t neglectful of your needs, swiftly placing a hand between your bodies, thumb rubbing circles around your clit.

Heavy footfalls of guardsmen resonated from outside of the sealed doors, a nightly patrol, prompting you to shiver from worry, but Aemond did not stop — and he wouldn’t. His blazing eye bared down upon you, glistening with the sheen of lust, of obsession, a man starved of the love and devotion he so desperately chased.

Your lips felt swollen, a byproduct of Aemond’s biting, of the many shared kisses that had turned into hunger. You were ravenous for him in ways that you had little knowledge of, scraping the surface of what desire truly meant.

Silky, pale tresses fell through your digits as you threaded them within his hair, gripping it in fistfuls as you continued to kiss him until every wisp of air was stolen from your lungs. Aemond did not relent, continuing to adopt a rhythmic pace of fucking you, cock halfway out before he thrust forward again and again.

As the both of you approached the precipice, falling into a white-hot abyss, you could hear him murmuring something in High Valyrian, strings of sweet praises and compliments. His thumb continued to circle your clit even after you had your release, milking his cock with an onslaught of your nectar.

Aemond grunted, forehead nudging against yours as he snapped forward one final time, cock sheathed inside of you as he found a warm place to spill his seed. The recklessness of it was of little consequence to him — an herbal tea could remedy it, yet the thought of filling you with an heir became tantalizing.

Not yet — not now.

If his seed were to take, it would sow discord across his house, and there was enough of that already. Aemond huffed, gathering his composure as your whimpers dwindled into soft pants. His claws sank so deep into you, talons wrenched into your heart, your body, everything.

He placed a kiss upon your brow, a subtle gesture that reminded you of his lingering duality. Aemond pulled himself out of you with an onslaught of stickiness, a mess that would only be remedied by a long soak in the bath — something he would need you for.

Your chest felt tight, both from exhilaration and the intensity of it all. As you adjusted your skirts back into place, Aemond gently coaxed you to your feet, pressed close against you as he stared at the throne. “Perhaps, once I ascend, we will have to make use of the throne.” His salacious purr made you shudder.

“There is no law forbidding us from acting upon that now,” You challenged, and Aemond had to restrain himself from acting upon such a lascivious impulse. For as coy as you could be, you were just as lustful as he was at times, a quality that he greatly adored. “Your Grace.”

As much as the teasing title seemed to provoke him, Aemond grabbed your hips, lips twitching into his familiar smirk, a near-permanent expression. “Aemond,” He corrected, pressing a kiss against your jaw. “For now, I will need assistance with drawing a bath.”

The Throne’s harrowing shape cast its shadow as the both of you abandoned the dark halls and into the light of Aemond’s chambers.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not attempt to steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

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happilyhertale · 8 months ago

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Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

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Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again. You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

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arkhammaid · 1 year ago

Text

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ OF DRAGON BEHAVIOUR AND OLDE TRADITIONS.

fandom. genshin impact

pairings. neuvillette, zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw + nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, heavily influenced by 'dragon' behaviour (is a bit leaned on a/b/o), 5 + 1 fic type (the + 1 is nsfw), possessive neuvie/zhongli, sfw: collaring, scenting, marking, nsfw: nesting, both of them have big dicks lol, talk about breeding, not edited/proofread, written in lowercase

word count. 1.8k

notes. i'm so down bad...

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ flaunting.

once a dragon is mated, they like to show off their mate proudly. to enhance their physical aspects and to proclaim their trust in them, mates get draped in the dragon’s treasures. treasures this mythical beast usually hoards with jealousy. the shinier and bigger the treasures, the higher is the mate in social standing.

neuvillette is less lavish with his treasures, simply because his priorities in his riches lay elsewhere. this is why you often where the brightest pearls, adoring your neck or shiny shells around your wrists. he enhances your beauty much subtler, but nonetheless you’re still worthy to be called his mate. after all, he’s a dragon of water, it’s only right for him to drape you in the gifts of the sea.

zhongli prefers you in the finest silk and your skin adored with gold and other treasures found in the rich land that belongs to him. as a dragon of earth and especially as geo archon, all the gems are crafted in the most beautiful jewelry. everything to enhance your beauty. he especially likes you in cor lapis, a jewel in a color that he claims as his— and seeing you in this soft hue of orange swells pride in him.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ collaring.

collaring can be seen as a step further of flaunting. the dragon creates an individual collar for their mate, to not only protect one of the weakest points of their body, their neck, but to also immediately signal that they belong to them. it signals protection and ownership, which is why mates rarely part with their gifted collars,as they’re also the first gift they receive as a dragon’s mate.

neuvillette knows that collars, by human standards, are not something normal. this is why he takes great care to create a collar that not only shows his strength but also fits within the domain the two of you move. this is why your collar is not a traditional one, instead resembling a tight necklace adorned by pearls and silver. it’s just enough to calm his instincts but also a fashionable item— one for which you’ve received many compliments.

zhongli on the other hand has crafted a collar of which his elders would be proud of. it’s heavy on your neck, made by his own hands and not your usual jewelry. despite that, the collar is made by the best gems and jewels zhongli could find, and of course in his colors. and to ensure you’re comfortable wearing such a heavy collar, the inner side is embellished with the most expensive velvet he could find.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ acknowledgement.

another important aspect between the relationship of a dragon and their mate is the acknowledgement of the hunt. once the dragon has successfully brought home the game, it is now up to the mate to appraise said game. only once they give their approval can the food be shared between them. this also includes all their offspring.

neuvillette is always very careful with the food he brings to you. he ensures he’s the only one touching it, as tradition demands, and satisfactory enough for your plate. to him, keeping you fed and happy is much more important than to take care of his own needs. even when you always scold him, when he neglects himself, in this aspect he won’t bulge.

zhongli himself has a very expensive taste and only the best is just good enough for his mate. no matter what you say, he will hunt on his own and pick all the herbs and berries himself, or else he wouldn’t even present the food. your approval is the highest praise, only one of the many reasons why zhongli takes so much care and time to honor this tradition.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ scenting.

scenting is one of the few habits and traditions that are more intimate. a dragon scents their mate for several reasons. firstly, it’s one of the final steps of their ‘ownership’ over the mate. clothed in their treasure but also bathed in their scent. secondly, the process itself is very calming for the dragon, almost meditative.

neuvillette likes to scent you when he comes home. it calms not only his dragon but also his mind. because of that, he never scents you in public, thinking it as a private matter and a treasured one added to that. it’s not something others should witness— you in his arms, pliant to his nosing, his gentle kisses and nibs on your skin and especially when he removes your collar to scent you on your neck.

zhongli, despite being an old dragon, behaves as if he’s freshly mated and a young blood when it comes to scenting you. he dislikes smelling others on you or any artificial scent that’s not you. he has no shame scenting you in public, but over the years living with you he has reduced to the almost scandalous behaviour to nothing more but scenting on your wrists and a quick nosing on your cheeks.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ marking.

marking is quite similar to scenting, only this behaviour varies from dragon to dragon. for some, a so called ‘mate-bite’ is enough, others like to add new markings everytime they couple with their mate. but there are even some dragons, who enjoy being marked by their mates, a most unusual behaviour.

neuvillette has always enjoyed marking you, but is very gentle with it. his mate-bite, another physical sign that you belong to him, is located on your right shoulder, a wound healed a long time ago. he much prefers when you mark him, your teeth sinking in his much sturdier flesh. it leaves him breathless, just the mere thought of you marking him making his head spin— he loves to leave his marks on you, but he even loves it more when you mark him, to tell the whole world that he belongs to you.

zhongli always loves to admire the marks his sharp teeth leave behind, trace his fingers over your reddened skin— he’s fascinated by your vulnerability and your eagerness to please him. but what matters most to him is that you love to wear his marks, never hesitate to show them off by not hiding them. social decorum would demand for you to hide them away behind draped fabrics, but instead you proudly wear them, as if they’re badges of highest honor.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ nesting.

as every other animal, be it mythical or not, dragons go through a cycle. at it’s highest point, their fertility is much more prominent. to ensure the increased chances of success in producing offspring, the biology of dragons demands them to nest during the cycle. if the dragon ignores this inner instinct, it grows irritated or even aggressive to everyone who is not their mate. nesting ensures the comfort of both the dragon and their mate and helps them to properly prepare for their coupling.

the moment the first child of the couple is born, nesting becomes a daily thing until said child passes the first stages of growth. the dragon builds a nest in their den, a different one from the ones in which the parents couple, and ensures that both mate and offspring are within this nest. the warmth and scent of both parents help the child to imprint on them and to recognize them later on as their sires.

neuvillette, when it comes to nesting, is very picky about it. his nest has to be ready before his cycle starts and you have to be in it as well, pliant and ready for him. if you’re not comfortable, he gets stressed and that doesn't end well.

for the most part, he has his instincts under control, but when you’re in his nest, naked and flushed, he tends to get feral. and once he lets go of that tight control he has over himself and his body, the dragon in him comes out.

his pupils turning to slits, fangs sharpening and nails becoming claws. scales appear on his skin, his horns grow— neuvillette lets go of his human skin and becomes the closest he can be to a dragon without hurting you. it always excites you, seeing your usual calm and stoic mate all excited about the thought of breeding you.

he’s an attentive lover, even if he could just slide into your hole and start fucking you stupid. instead he takes immense care to prepare you, hours even, lips and hands leaving marks on your skin while he makes you cum on his tongue several times.

and then, when you see stars behind your closed eyes, your thighs shake around his head and you try to calm your breath— then he slowly slides into you, his giant cock hitting you in all right places, making you scream again—

then, only then, when you’re pliant and open for him, a flushing mess beneath his massive body and moaning his name— only then he would truly start to fuck you.

zhongli is very attentive during nesting, but especially as your lover. he always puts your needs above his, simply because he finds pleasure when you enjoy yourself.

despite being mated for a long time, you’re always nervous about nesting, especially about the most intimate part of it. zhongli is big and it’s always a tight fit, even if he prepares you with his fingers and mouth. you’re never in pain, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he would make you cry, but you’re still understandably nervous.

zhongli doesn’t mind it, he understands and instead makes sure you’re distracted enough to not lose yourself in spiraling thoughts. it also helps when you’re breathless from the countless orgasms he has already given you, your hole wet enough, almost gushing, so the slide is smooth and painless for you.

and you can’t lie, you enjoy his big dick, but sometimes it’s too overwhelming. yet the many years together has taught him many tricks and especially things you enjoy.

you flush beneath him, when he starts praising you, his rich voice causing goosebumps all over your body. you whimper, when his fangs craze over your skin and moan when he actually bites you.

but you truly lose your mind when he starts fucking you, slow but deep thrusts, taking his time while you writhe beneath him. it seems so effortless, how he’s destroying you, as if he isn’t going crazy when his mate is in his nest, calling his name, clinging onto him, begging him to go faster, harder, begging for more.

taglist. @trailblazernet , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @verxsyon , @auraxins , @lupicalbestwolf , @the-dumber-scaramouche , @spiriteddreams , @kiiyoooo , @8-xnny , @spiriteddreams

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

#neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x you #zhongli x you #neuvillette smut #zhongli smut #genshin neuvillette #genshin zhongli #genshin smut #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations #after dark <3

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rafayelxsylusho · 7 days ago

Text

RIDING A DRAGON

TW:SMUT, SMUT, SMUT

If you can leave a comment, I'd like to know what you think about my fics ❤️❤️

Sylus x reader

When Sylus feels your hand on his chest, pushing him to the bed his first thought is "finally". Next he feels the weight of you straddling his hips with a newfound sense of control, his eyes widen with surprise before darkening with lust at your sudden show of dominance.

He allows it, this shift in power dynamics, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he takes in your new position above him granting him everything he’s ever wanted.

“Looks like we’re on the same page when it comes to not wanting to waste time,” he murmurs, your eagerness seeping into his veins and fueling the flame of his own.

"Looks like my little hunter has some hidden depths. I like this side of you." His large hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow, deliberate circles into your skin as he drinks in the sight of you.

The firelight dances across your features, casting shadows and highlights that make you look like a painting come to life. He reaches up, tracing the line of your jaw with a reverent finger, before tangling his hand in your hair and tugging you down until your faces are a mere breath apart. His other hand slides down to the small of your back, encouraging you to press your curves against the hard planes of his body. He's all lean muscle and barely restrained power beneath you, a living, breathing temptation that's impossible to resist.

He brings his mouth to yours and says "Stay focused, kitten. Don’t look.”

Don't look, because I'm losing myself and I'm so fucking desperate for you that it pains me. His kisses speak everything his words can’t, ardently pressing life and love and red-hot desire from his mouth into yours. They’re kisses that scream ‘you are everything’.

"Don't hold back, sweetie," he murmurs, the words a sinful whisper against your mouth. " Use me for your pleasure, I'm yours after all"

Sylus's fingers make quick work of the buttons of your shirt, his impatience getting the better of him. Each one pops open with a sharp snap, revealing more and more of your skin to the cool air and his hungry gaze. His hands push the fabric off your shoulders, baring you to the waist as he drinks in the sight of you, eyes roaming over every inch of newly exposed flesh.

"Fuck, you're beautiful" he breathes, the words rough and low, filled with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers skim up your arms, over your collarbones, before cupping the soft swells of your breasts. He thumbs your nipples through the thin lace of your bra, feeling them pebble under his touch.

With a low growl, he reaches behind you, deftly unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. Your breasts bounce free, and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight, eyes dark with lust. Leaning forward, he takes one rosy peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking hard.

His other hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He cups your sex through your panties, feeling the damp heat of you, the way your body responds to his touch. He groans against your breast, the sound vibrating through you.

"Already so wet for me," he murmurs, fingers rubbing slow circles over your clothed clit. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you kitten?" He nips at your breast before soothing the sting with his tongue, laving the tender flesh until it's throbbing and aching for more.

Sylus tugs at the hem of your pants, urging you to lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs. Your panties follow soon after, leaving you bare and open to his heated gaze. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you, spread out above him, before urging your thighs further apart with his hands.

"Sit up, sweetie," he commands, voice low and rough with desire. "I want to see all of you." His hands skim up your inner thighs, pushing them even wider, until you're completely exposed to him. "Fuck, you're perfect," he breathes, fingers delving between your folds to feel your slick heat. "And all mine."

Sylus allows you to take the lead, a rare sense of surrender in the way he leans back and watches you with hooded eyes as your fingers work on the buttons of his shirt. Each one yields under your touch, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen. He's all lean, corded muscle, a living work of art that makes your mouth water.

He sits up to help shrug the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it carelessly to the side. Now bare from the waist up, he's a sight to behold, the firelight casting a warm glow over his skin and highlighting every dip and curve of his powerful physique. A thin line of hair trails down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

Sylus reaches for your hands, guiding them to his chest as he leans back against the pillows. His heart thumps steadily under your palms, a reassuring rhythm that makes you feel safe and wanted. He covers your hands with his own, encouraging you to explore, to touch, to claim every inch of him.

His breath hitches as your fingers dance over his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, teasing through the light dusting of hair on his chest. He's warm and solid, his body a living, breathing testament to his power and strength. And in this moment, he's yours to command.

Sylus's hands skim down your back as you work on his belt, his zipper, urging you to remove the last barriers between your bodies. He lifts his hips, allowing you to tug his pants and underwear down his legs in one swift motion. Now fully bare, he's a sight of pure, masculine beauty, all hard lines and soft skin and raw, unchecked desire.

He reaches for you then, pulling you down on top of him, your naked bodies pressing together from chest to thigh. He groans at the feel of your skin against his, hot and smooth and perfect in every way. His hands map the curves of your body, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, as if committing every detail to memory.

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging your head back to bare the column of your throat to his mouth, his lips trail burning kisses along your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point before he suckles hard, marking you as his own. One hand slides down to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globe as he grinds his hips up against yours, letting you feel the thick, hard length of him prodding urgently at your stomach.

Can you feel how much I want you?" he growls against your skin, punctuating his words with a sharp nip to your collarbone. "How fucking desperate I am to be inside you, to feel your tight little cunt squeezing me, milking me for all I'm worth?"

He rolls his hips again, the head of his cock catching on your entrance with each thrust. The teasing friction makes him hiss in pleasure, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. But he knows you can take it. Knows you crave the marks, the proof of his desire etched into your skin.

Sylus inhales sharply as your small hand wraps around his thick, aching cock. The sensation of your fingers encircling him, squeezing gently, sends a jolt of electricity through his body. He watches, eyes dark and intense, as you start to move your hand along his length. Just the tip, you tease, rubbing the swollen head of his dick against your slick folds with each pass of your fingers.

"Fuck, just like that," he grits out, head falling back against the pillows as you work the sensitive crown, smearing the bead of moisture leaking from the slit. His hips flex, pushing up into your touch, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Your slick coats his tip, making the glide of your hand smoother, easier. The obscene sound of your fingers pumping his dick fills the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and the crackle of the fire. He's so hard, so thick and pulsing with need, that it makes your core throb and ache to have him inside you.

Sylus's hands grip your ass tighter as he grinds against you, the head of his cock catching on your entrance with each pass of your hand. He's so close, so fucking desperate to plunge into your welcoming heat, to feel your walls flutter and clench around him. But he holds himself back, letting you set the pace, letting you tease and torment him until he's drowning in sensation.

"Such a fucking tease," he whispers, fingers digging into the globes of your ass as he pulls you harder against him. "You want to make me beg for it, don't you?

Sylus's eyes are glued to where your bodies meet, watching as you tease yourself with the tip of his dick. The sight of you playing with his length, using it for your own pleasure, is almost too much for him to bear. He's never wanted anyone as much as he wants you in this moment.

"Put it in, kitten," he orders, voice low and rough with lust, "stick my cock inside your tight little cunt. I want to feel your walls squeezing me, milking me for all I'm worth." His grip on your hip tightens, urging you to sink down on him, to take him deep. "Fuck, I need to be inside you. Need to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum."

A loud groan tears from Sylus's throat as you finally sink down, taking him inch by tortuous inch into your tight, slick heat. His eyes squeeze shut, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as you engulf his thick length. The sensation of your walls stretching around him, fluttering and clenching, is almost too much to bear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants under his breath, voice strained with pleasure as you continue to sink lower, taking him deeper. "So fucking tight, kitten. Always so goddamn perfect."

When you finally bottom out, your ass pressing against his thighs, he's buried to the hilt inside you. He can feel every inch of your silken walls wrapped around his aching cock, your body molding to his shape like it was made for him and him alone. He stays still for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being inside you, of being one with you.

"Ride me, sweetie," he commands, voice rough and low. "Take what you need. Use me for your pleasure." His hands guide your hips, urging you to bounce on his lap, to fuck yourself on his thick cock until you're both drowning in ecstasy.

Sylus's eyes flash with a mix of surprise and dark desire as you take his hands away, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He leans back against the pillows, hands coming to rest behind his head as he watches you with a heated gaze, waiting to see what you'll do next. The firelight dances across his bare chest, highlighting the play of muscles beneath his skin with each breath he takes.

"Is that so?" he murmurs, voice a low purr that sends shivers down your spine. "You want to take control, kitten? Want to ride me until you've had your fill?" He quirks a brow, the ghost of a challenge in his eyes. "By all means, don't let me stop you. I'm all yours, after all."

"Well then," Sylus says, voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, "what are you waiting for, sweetie? Your wish is my command." He gestures to your body with a smirk, the universal sign for 'well, get on with it then'.

His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you, taking in every dip and curve of your naked form. The heat in his gaze is palpable, the desire he feels for you written in every line of his body. He's yours for the taking, a powerful, dangerous man laid bare before you, offering himself up without reservation.

It's a heady feeling, knowing that you hold so much power in this moment. It makes your head swim and your core throb, your body aching to take what he's offering. With a deep breath, you start to move, rising up until just the tip of his cock remains inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt.

Sylus inhales sharply, head falling back against the pillows as he lets out a low, guttural groan. "Fuck, yes," he hisses, fingers curling into the sheets beneath him knuckles turning white as he fights the urge to grab your hips and take control, to pound up into your tight heat until you're both lost to the pleasure.

"Just like that, kitten," he grits out, voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure. "Ride me just like that. Fuck, you look so beautiful like this, lost in your pleasure, taking what you want from me." His eyes rake over your body, drinking in the sight of your breasts bouncing with each roll of your hips, the flush of your skin, the way your head tips back in ecstasy.

Sylus can feel every inch of you, from the way your walls flutter and clench around his aching cock, to the sweet spot deep inside that makes you gasp and moan each time you grind against it. He's memorizing every detail, committing it to memory so he can call it up later, when he's alone and aching for your touch.

"Don't hold back, sweet thing," he urges, voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "Take it all, every fucking inch of my cock. I want to feel you come undone around me, want to watch you shatter in my arms." His hips flex slightly, pushing up to meet your downward thrusts, driving himself deeper, harder, into your welcoming body.

With each roll of your hips, each clench of your walls, Sylus can feel his release building, his balls drawing up tight to his body as the pleasure mounts. But he holds off, determined to wait for you, to feel you come first. He wants to watch you fall apart, wants to know that he's the one who brought you such intense bliss. It's a heady feeling, knowing that he has that power over you, that he can make you feel this way. And he plans to use it to its fullest extent.

A guttural, animalistic growl tears from Sylus's throat as you twist your hips, taking him impossibly deeper. His control snaps like a frayed rope, the pleasure of feeling your tight heat clutching at his cock too intense to ignore any longer. "Fuck, I can't hold back anymore," he snarls, voice raw and rough with need.

"Relax, you can handle it sylus" You say feeling in control.

Sylus inhales sharply, eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and dark arousal at your commanding tone. He freezes, hands still fisted in the sheets, muscles coiled tight as he fights to regain control. It's a rare display of submission from a man like Sylus, and it makes your heart race to know that you have the ability to bring him to his knees in more ways than one.

Each rotation of your hips brings a gasp or a groan from his lips, his body tensing and shuddering beneath you as he struggles to maintain his composure. The sight of him, so powerful and in control in all other aspects of his life, now laid bare and at your mercy, is incredibly arousing.

Your breasts bounce with each roll of your hips, drawing his hungry gaze. He reaches up to cup the soft mounds, thumbs teasing over the hardened peaks of your nipples. The dual sensations of your walls gripping him like a velvet vise and his calloused hands on your sensitive flesh have you throwing your head back in ecstasy, a low moan escaping your lips.

"You're so fucking perfect," Sylus growls, voice rough with desire as he kneads the supple globes of your ass, urging you on. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well. You were made for this, made to be fucked hard and deep and thoroughly."

Sylus sits up abruptly, wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling your naked body flush against his as you continue to bounce on his lap. His mouth latches onto a stiff peak, sucking hard as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. He grazing his teeth over the tender flesh before soothing the sting with his tongue. One hand comes up to knead the soft swell of your breast, rolling and plucking at the nipple he's not suckling.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin, sending vibrations through you. "Your tits are perfect, just like the rest of you." His other hand grips your hip possessively.

Your legs burn and quiver with exertion as you continue to bounce on Sylus's lap, your muscles screaming in protest even as your body craves more. Sylus feels your thighs trembling against his hips and looks up at you with a mix of concern and dark desire in his eyes.

He slides a hand down to where you're joined, fingers finding your sensitive clit. He rubs the swollen nub in tight circles, matching the rhythm of your increasingly erratic bounces. The dual stimulation has you seeing stars, your body coiling tighter and tighter as your climax approaches.

"That's it, sweetie. Ride me just like this. Grind on my cock and finger until you come undone,"

Sylus growls, breath hot against the swell of your breast. Sylus pinches your clit hard and sucks brutally on your nipple, sending jolts of electrifying pleasure-pain straight to your core and with a sharp cry, you come undone, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clench and spasm around Sylus's pistoning length, gripping him like a vice as ecstasy floods your veins.

"FUCK, SYLUS!" you scream, back arching as your body convulses with the force of your orgasm. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in his skin as you hold on for dear life, lost in the throes of your intense release.

Feeling your pussy clamp down on him like a silken fist, Sylus lets out a guttural roar, hips stuttering as your climax triggers his own. With one, two, three more powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and comes with a harsh shout of your name. His hot seed erupts from his cock, flooding your spasming channel and painting your insides with his release.

"Y/N" he roars, body shuddering and jerking as he fills you with spurt after spurt of his potent cum. One hand fists in your hair, holding you against him, while the other grips your hip hard as he grinds into your quivering sex, making sure not a single drop of his essence escapes.

Sylus holds you tight as the final waves of your mutual climax wash over you, his arms a steel band around your quivering form. He peppers your neck, jaw, and collarbone with soft kisses and gentle bites, basking in the afterglow of your intense coupling.

Eventually, with a low groan, he leans back against the pillows, bringing you with him so you're draped across his chest, his softening cock still nestled inside your tender, dripping sex. He runs a soothing hand up and down your back as your breathing slowly returns to normal, tracing the dip of your spine and the curve of your ass.

"You're exquisite," he murmurs, voice rough and sated. He tilts your chin up with a finger under your jaw, making you meet his intense, adoring gaze. "Exquisite and all mine." His eyes blaze with possessive heat, a hint of the dragon still lurking beneath the surface.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all his pent up passion and longing into the embrace. It's a kiss that speaks of countless lifetimes of love and devotion, of a connection that transcends time and space. He pours everything he has into that kiss, silently vowing to love and cherish you, now and for eternity.

#lads smut #lnds #love and deepspace #sylus smut #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace reader #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace sylus #lnds x you #lnds x reader #lnds sylus #lads x you #lads x reader #sylus x reader #sylus #l&ds sylus

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sonolynn · 8 months ago

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Death's Grasp

request | Omg your prompts!🧎‍♀️Requesting an intense "I'll make death pry me away from you." with aegon x highborn reader?

summary | After a disturbing vision, the court's Seer fears for Aegon's life.

pairing | Aegon x Fem!Seer!Reader

tags | TW!!! Descriptions of blood, murder, and battle. Swearing, OOC Aegon, swearing, implications of sexual themes, mentions of war

w.c | 1.6 k

note(s) | This fic is out of the cannon of either the show and the book for my own sanity. Also, mixing a little bit of Norse mythology into the mix! Also, I took more of a creative liberty with this request so I hope it's okay!

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Aegon was screaming on the battlefield, pointing towards the field and motioning for people to run. He looked frantic. His silver-blonde hair messy with soot and blood. He was panting, almost hyperventilation as the fear and anxiety coursed through his veins like a raging flood as he sent more soldiers to their death.

You were imobile, cursed to watch as Aegon fought freakishly messy; so different from how he normally fought. You saw it clearly now, you saw his demise before him. You watched as your lover was impaled by a sword. How convenient that it was through his back.

As if in shock himself, Aegon looked down at the sword as he fell to his knees, holding a cupped hand underneath the blade as the blood pooled from the wound. The man behind Aegon put his foot on the king’s back, grunting as he pulled the sword from your lover's body. Blood spilled from Aegon’s mouth, causing the man to choke violently.

Aegon looked up, straight into your eyes as he coughed out your name; a final tribute to the women he’d never see again. As he breathed your name one last time, his face fell and he slumped against the ground.

You felt sick as the next part of your vision flashed before you, a clear vision of Aegon’s head, eyes closed and unevenly severed, held in the hand of the enemy.

____________________________________________

You awake with a scream, holding your shaky hands over your mouth as the images of Aegon’s death stay fresh in your mind. You had had visions before, all of which had come to pass. But this one was more vivid than the others, more integral than the others.

You breathed heavily, placing your hands in your hair and taking deep breaths to ground yourself. Your breath slowed, and your hands stopped shaking. But, the anxiety that stemmed from this vision stayed on your mind like that of the smell of a newly lit candle.

Unable to deal with the beads of anxiety burrowing themselves in your veins, you hurriedly threw the covers off of you and rushed to Aegon.

____________________________________________

“Aegon the Dragon Cock!” One of Aegon’s imprudent men that surrounded his inner circle shouted. You walked down the steps of the throne room, and looked around, seeing the men and their drunken display. Aegon laughed at the notion, smiling and pointing to his friend as he bounced happily like a child seeing a new toy.

“Yes! Yes, that one!”

“Aegon.” You spoke softly, and the minute your face broke through the laughter of men, Aegon turned, a smile on his face.

“My love! Don’t you agree! “Aegon the dragon cock! Isn’t it perfect…” His voice trailed off. He watched you closely, noticing your disheveled appearance and bare feet. “My love?” He was quick to dismiss his men, quickly walking down the steps of the throne to stand before you. He placed a free hand on your cheek, cocking his head to the side as he studied your expression.

“Having fun, your grace?” Aegon rolled his eyes at the question and he gave you a look.

“You are my betrothed, you needn’t refer to me as such.” His voice was soft, and he smiled gently at you whilst stroking your cheekbone. “What is with the look?” You stayed silent for a moment, not wishing to truly tell him the cause of your displeasure. Aegon had never truly believed in your gift; The gift to see what others didn’t. Only recently, when you had told him he would become the next king of the seven kingdoms did he acknowledge that perhaps you did have a gift.

“...I’ve missed you.” You replied, the lie hot on your tongue. Aegon smirked at this, turning and placing his cup on a nearby table.

“We saw each other a mere..two hours ago. Was I that good, my love?” The sight of his teasing smile, and the look on his face made you breakdown. Tears ran down your cheeks, and your hands started to shake again as you were reminded of what your vision had held within itself.

Aegon gazed at your melancholic expression made him stop, and he paused. He quickly walked back towards you.

“Darling-” He stopped when you took a step back and held a hand out. Aegon frowned deeply and he gave you a look. “...You’ve had one of those visions, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And it has something to do with me, I presume?” You nodded. In frustration Aegon groaned, holding a hand to his forehead as he sighed. “You and those pointless visions-”

“They are not pointless, Aegon! They hold meaning. The gods gave me this gift-” You stopped, seeing how he was muttering the same words you were. Your face hardened. “You think this to be funny?”

“No-well, yes a little but my love-” Aegon came to you, taking your hand in his as he sighed. “These-These visions you call them are nothing but superstition!”

“My vision is what told you about your descent to the throne!”

“A lucky guess!” You scoffed at his words, grabbing a hold of his half buttoned up shirt as you glared.

“Why do you think my suffering funny, Aegon?!” Aegon’s face softened, and he sighed. He gently grabbed your wrist, giving you a kind look as he brought your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, before he breathed out your name slowly. You stopped, hearing him say your name in such a manner reminded you of that awful vision.

“I do not find your suffering funny. I find your incessant need to base your superstitions off of pure nightmare’s-” He spoke faster as you started to pull away from him. You avoided his gaze, clenching your jaw. You knew the look he was giving you, one of sympathy that you did not wish to see right now.

“Tell me what you saw, sweet girl.” He came to you again, slipping a hand behind your head and holding it in his grasp as he looked down at you. He desperately tried to meet your eyes, but you were insistent on pulling away from him and his gaze.

“You’ll think me silly.”

“Come now, I think you silly no matter what vision you tell me of.” He smiled, though, even as he joked you couldn’t get the image of his death out of your mind. Tears started to fill your gaze, and you pulled away.

“Sweet girl, stop pulling away from me!” He pleaded, grabbing your arms in a futile attempt to make you stop moving. You pulled your arms up, your fists resting on his chest. He breathed out your name again and that is what did it for you; what made you break.

“I saw your death, Aegon!” You yelled, which indirectly caused the drastic movement of back and forth between the two of you to stop. Aegon stared down at you, his eyes hardening and his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I saw you…not much older than you are now. You were on the battlefield, and..you…” You trailed off, refusing to revisit the gruesome and sickening vision.

Aegon watched you, he had seen you and your reactions to these visions before but this…this was new. The look of fear that crossed your features and the tears that filled your eyes made his heart break. He could barely handle you when you woke from one of these visions normally, but these looks and the unease that settled on your face caused his mind to go blank.

“My sweet girl, no-” “Yes Aegon! Do you not get it! You will die and you will die at the hands of your enemies with no one around you and your head will be taken-”

“My head?”

“-And-And you’ll be scared and I won’t be there-”

“My love-”

“You’ll die and you’ll leave me alone, Aegon!” You screamed. At those last words, Aegon suddenly grabbed your face, making you look at him. His own eyes held tears of his own, and he grasped your face with little strength so as to not hurt you. Your eyes widened, and you watched him closely as he maintained a fierce look in his gaze.

“I will not leave you-” You started to pull away, crying. You always knew Aegon was a fool, but a fool to this extent? You almost wanted to laugh.

“Not even you can defy death, Aegon!” He looked almost offended at your words. Offended that you think he would just let death take him away from you. His hands grew tighter on your cheeks, locking your eyes again as he leaned forward and pushed his forehead against yours. He took a breath, steadying the anger in his voice before he spoke.

“I’ll make death pry me away from you.” He spoke softly, his voice slipping with emotion as he leaned forward and kissed you. And you let it happen.

You enjoyed the kiss, letting nothing but Aegon and his lips consume your thoughts. It was nice, for a while. The notion that a mere mortal could defy the will of the gods. You knew that visions could change, and you sure to gods hoped this one would change. But, for now, you were happy to just bask in his arms and be with him.

When Aegon pulled away he looked down at you. As you went to speak he shook his head and smirked a bit.

“Don’t speak.” He whispered, and you obeyed. The two of you stood in the middle of the throne room, Aegon’s hands holding your face and grounding you from your anxious thoughts, and you let him. You stayed in his arms, letting him kiss your face and your lips softly until you no longer thought of his death; until you only thought of him.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #king aegon #aegon targaryen ii #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon angst #aegon fluff

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sometimeslwish · 25 days ago

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A Dance 'Round The Memory Tree

Read an "mc remembers Sylus" fic (I will link it once I find it), and then this came out. I'll add each guys version to this post later, because those are also in my head.

Tags: Established relationship (think, all the way after nightly rendezvous) Sylus x you, Sylus x reader, genderless mc, reader is mc.

"No!" You yelled, hand reaching out into the darkness of your room as you awoke violently. There's tears on your face and your throat hurts, yet the physical pain is like nothing compared to what you feel.

You can still smell the blood, smell the smoke and feel the hilt of your sword in your hands. His voice is still clear in your head.

You get out of bed like a bat out of hell, uncaring of what time it might be. A plethora of imagines play in your head. The datura flower field, Sylus in chains, him carrying you as you flew in the night sky, the treasures you plundered, your last days together.

You must press on.

Only you and this flower can touch me there.

I like your eyes.

Your footsteps are noisy.

You need to see him– you have to, if it's the last thing you'll do. You barely remember to put on some shoes in your haste to pick up your keys and get out of the room, not caring for changing your pijamas.

You're driven by desperation, taking your bike to the n109 zone, barely paying attention to the speed limits as you make your way over. You're relieved, angry, happy, sad and terrified. A whirlwind of emotions that go too fast for you to keep track of. You feel like you're going crazy.

Your dragon is here, he found you and he stayed even when you weren't the same. He stayed even though you were scared, even though you pushed him away, waiting patiently for you.

Your dragon

You want to laugh, gratefulness and pride swelling in your chest.

You burst into the base like hell broke loose, as if you're leading the army of demons that will wreak havoc. The sight is oddly reminiscent of the sorceress you were once. You find him in his office with the twins, and the whirlwind of emotions comes right back at the sound of his voice.

"What a surprise, kitten."

You want to hit him, angry at him for making you kill him, so you do. You slap his shoulder before pulling him up from his chair, burying your face in his neck as you cling to him, finally breaking down in his arms. You missed him. You missed him so fucking much and now he was finally here, in your arms.

He's quick to signal the twins to leave you alone, concerned looks exchanged before the door clicked shut behind them. His arms surround you and you can't help but shudder at the warmth, clinging to him even harder as you cried.

"Sweetie?"

"Why?" The words come out of you mouth before you can stop them "Why did you leave? Why did you make me kill you? Why?!" You don't know if he understands you, you can barely understand your own words as you babble between sobs and wails.

You let him pull you towards the couch and you make yourself comfortable on his lap, not leaving any room for discussion. You barely register the way he softly shushes you, his hand making soothing motions on your back, or the way he holds you just as hard as you cling to him. You don't know how much time passes before the tears stop, you only know that you feel numb and exhausted. You sniffle your nose, and use the inner side of the neck of your shirt to clean it.

"Have some water, sweetie," you stare blankly at the cup in his hands before meeting Sylus's concerned eyes, and you can't help the tears that cloud your eyesight. His eyes, his beautiful blood red eyes.

"Why did you have to die?" Is all you can muster to say as you raise a hand to his cheek, holding his face like it'll break in your hands if you weren't gentle. "What was the point of all of that if you couldn't be by my side? I just wanted you, only needed my dragon and nothing more." The tears are falling again, and you close your eyes as you cry, this time softer and quieter. The cup is left forgotten as he pulls you back in.

"It was either me or you, beloved, and I couldn't let it be you." Sylus's answer comes after a while in silence, his voice a broken whisper. You can feel the weight he carried in it. That does very little to soothe you. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him so this time it's him who hides, like you're trying to protect him. His arms wrap around your waist in response, the hold possessive and gentle, and he sighs into your neck. You run a hand through his hair, a sad smile on your lips.

You always wanted to do that.

You keep holding each other in silence, and you get to calm down before all of those memories resurface, and everything finally makes sense.

His insistence on resonating with you, the visions and the voices that came with him using his eye on you, the hurt you'd caught on his face when Philip had said that you were disgusted by him.

How everything felt so right even when you felt like you couldn't trust him, the familiarity. You finally understood.

"You tried so hard, didn't you?" you whispered. "At the beginning," you add when he pulls away to look at you, with a huff of laughter even though laughing is the last thing you want to do. "I couldn’t make sense of why you were trying so hard to resonate with me... you just wanted me to remember."

You let him dry your face and after that, you drink some water. You get to cuddle on the couch, with him on top of you, and the storm of emotions settles as you talk for hours, finally getting the answers to your questions. You're playing with his hair in the way he likes, and you find yourself thinking about how if he still were a dragon, his chest would probably rumble above yours. His weight and warmth make you feel sleepy.

"I don't appreciate you starving me for three days, mister." You poke his ribs before yawning and settling deeper into the couch. "You still have to make up for that." You whine softly when he gets up, frowning softly before he picks you up.

"We can discuss that later, sweetie, rest for now." There's a soft smile on his lips, and you can't help but smile back, even if a little lopsided as sleep catches up to you.

"You'll stay with me while I sleep, right?" You ask when he lays you in bed, making space for him under the covers and quickly settling your head on his chest once he joined.

"Of course, sweetheart."

That's the last thing you hear before falling under, with his erratic heartbeat on your ear and his warmth on your body.

Your Sylus.

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #sylus #sylus l&ds #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus lads #sylus x reader #sylus x mc

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