#just like she had when he killed his father/brother

[beaniebaneenie]

What breaks my heart about this gif is Loki's hands. They're trembling. Only the slightest amount... but they're trembling all the same. And his breath catches in his chest.

Because this was something he never ever expected, nor especially sought out.

He's also no doubt remembering that just a few days earlier, he (correctly) accused Odin of keeping him locked up as a potentially dangerous relic, because he "couldn't have a Frost Giant sitting in the throne of Ásgarð". And knows that Frigga has just handed him the government, but it's still entirely possible that Odin might wake and smite him for daring to weild Gungnir like he had any right to.

I think this is when he starts thinking about how to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his species has no hold over him, that he isn't a monster and no Asgardian needs to fear him- see, he's so loyal that he killed Laufey, for the Allfather!

That when his parentage becomes commonly known, it won't matter, because he will already have proven himself by finishing the task Thor started, the same thing Odin and Bór did in their time.

Frigga had one chance to try and pull Loki back from the brink. And instead of providing comfort and safety and admitting they fucked up as parents, she places even more weight on Loki's shoulders. She defends Odin's actions, refuses to acknowledge Loki's pain, and tells him that she needs him to perform some more, rather than acknowledging the very real pain and hurt and fear her son has, and is begging for help with.

Yes, the Kingdom does need a leader, but this always read to me as Frigga trying to placate Loki by letting him sit in Dad's chair- when they both know it would only be temporary. Either Odin would awake or Thor would come home and Loki would have to step down or risk a coup.

She is offering leadership, but she's not offering real power. And she's also once again asking Loki to clean up a mess that his brother (and father) made. And they also both know that she's asking him to step aside and renounce the throne as soon as one of the Real Rulers comes back.

Frigga is focused on keeping everyone looking good, on the family looking good and looking strong instead of actually being strong. And so she misses what Loki needs from her (and misses it again in TDW). He needed a hug, and someone to hold him and tell him that he had been treated shamefully, that despite their attempts to shield him, it hadn't worked at all, and that he never needed to do anything to earn their love. He needed someone to let him cry and rage and sob and break, and be there to put him back together without judgment.

That look on his face oh my gosh

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.07

The more you got to know the people who saved you, the more you understood why they saved you. Abraham explained that he and Rosita are on a mission to get their companion doctor Eugene Porter to Washington, DC, safely because Eugene knew how to stop the virus and Abraham wanted you to join them. What they were doing was courageous, but you needed to find your family.

You look over at Glenn who was carrying Jace and nod appreciatively. You, him, and Tara were taking turns holding him to try and keep the strain off your shoulder.

The atmosphere is awkward as you walk in almost complete silence. Abraham and Glenn got into a physical fight because Abraham made a comment saying Maggie was most likely already dead, and the noise from the fight attracted a horde of walkers. While five of you fought, the walkers off Eugene tried to help, but the accident ended up shooting the army rank several times, causing it to stop working, which meant the only option now was to travel by foot.

Abraham slows his pace to walk beside you; he nods his head in the direction of Glenn. “He’s a persistent son of a bitch, I get while you’re following him.”

“I’m not following him just to help find Maggie. Our people were more than just someone to survive with; we are a family. My brother, nephew, and Daryl are still out there, along with the rest of our friends. Me and Glenn can’t stop looking for them.”

“Do you really think you’ll find them?”

You don’t answer his question. The last few days have been hectic, and you couldn’t allow yourself to think that you won’t ever find them.

Abraham changes the subject. “I didn’t have you down as a hunter, but damn those squirrels you caught last night went down a treat. Your father taught you to hunt?”

A small smile pulls on your lips. You found hunting extremely difficult morally, but when Daryl had his arms wrapped around you to show you what to do... It was the safest you’ve felt in a king town. “No, Daryl taught me to hunt skin and gut animals, so you can thank him when we find him. I used to be vegan before the world went to shit.”

He laughs, “Well, those days are long now.”

Abraham was right; you ate whatever was possible now.

You make polite small talk and learn more about the mission until Tara starts laughing. “I can’t believe I still have this,” she pulls a wallet out of her jacket pocket. She chuckles to herself while opening it up, “Three dollars and an expired voucher for grocery shopping.”

“Never know, it could go up on a museum wall one day.”

Her smile fades when she pulls a Polaroid photo out of one of the slips. Tara goes to say something, but her breathing becomes shaky. “I never saw her after... I kept thinking she might have ended up like my sister, or she’s alone and hurt, or…”

Glenn gives her a sympathetic look. “Who is she?”

“My girlfriend Alisha... I think I saw her body at the prison, but the more I think about it, the more I’m unsure if it was her.”

You understood how awful not knowing where everyone was felt. With the attention of somehow trying to comfort her, you walk closer but come to an abrupt halt when you see the picture she’s holding. You feel warm, a painful knot forming in your stomach. Tara’s girlfriend was the woman who put Hershel on his knees; she was the woman you shot and killed at the prison.

—

When night falls, you take turns keeping watch, and right now it was currently your turn. Abraham picked a spot that was surrounded by thick trees and bushes, keeping you out of view of anyone who may walk by the train tracks. You had bundled Jace up in a T-shirt and your jacket to keep him warm. Your back was pressed against a tree so you could securely place him between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh. Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham had all fallen asleep while Tara and Glenn spoke quietly. Finding the picture earlier had really upset the brunette, and you felt so guilty that she was continuing to torture herself by imagining all the different things that could have happened to Alisha. If it was someone you cared about, you’d want to know the truth.

“Tara, I need to tell you something. I... I, Alisha, she's gone. She’s dead.”

The look in her eyes, she knew. She knew it was you before you'd even told her. “How would you know that?”

“I killed her.”

Tara blinks away her tears, then shoots you a death glare. “You killed my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know who she was, not until I saw the photo earlier.”

“So you just killed someone and didn’t think about them again?” Tara scoffs; she shakes her head and looks away from you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hershel was a good man. He was a stranger who saved my nephew's life. He let us into his home. Your girlfriend dragged Hershel, an old man with one fucking leg, from the back of a car and forced him to kneel on the ground to be slaughtered by that sociopath in front of his own daughters!” Your vision becomes blurry with tears. “When I came face to face with her, I didn’t think twice about killing her, and no, I didn’t think about her again, not until I knew who she was. I’ve only told you so that you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to her.”

She takes a moment to process everything you’ve just said. “If you could, would you have done things differently?”

“I found my baby alive next to the body of a boy who had been shot in the chest. Some asshole who attacked us in our own home put a goddamn bullet in a child and then continued to attack my people.” Using the sleeve of your jacket, you wipe at your eyes and nose. “I don’t know who killed him, but I don’t regret doing everything I could to stop my son from being one of those kids.”

Silence falls over the camp; nobody dares say anything. Tara walks off, and Glenn follows her. Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to see Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene staring at you.

—

The next morning, everyone remains quiet as a mouse as you continue to follow the trail tracks. The only real noise was Jace babbling while you tried to get him to say mom or mommy. You decided it was best if you hanged back from the others, just close enough that you wouldn’t fall behind.

Glenn looks and observes you for a moment before slowing his pace to match yours. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jace.”

“Sure.”

“Did Hershel ever check his ears out?”

“He did," you didn’t like thinking about it. “Hershel thought Jace’s eardrums got damaged from being exposed to so many gunshots and explosions when he was first born, but it’s hard to know for sure. He thinks his right side is more damaged than the left.”

Glenn’s brows pull together with confusion. “How’s that possible?”

“Maybe a gun went off on his right side... I should have done more to��“

“Don’t,” Glenn cuts you off. “Everything you do is for him.”

—

You can’t help but smile proudly at Jace; hearing him say mom filled your heart with so much warmth. You kiss his cheeks multiple times and say, “I’m so proud of you, little man.”

Daryl and Rick would be so proud.

You look from Jace to see what was in front of you, and you gasp in surprise. There was a wooden post with a map pinned to it, leading the way to a location called Terminus.

“Holy shit,” the map had a message written on mud left on it. “Glenn, Glenn. It’s a message from Maggie. Her, Bob and Sasha are alive.”

“Oh my god!” He comes up to look for himself and notices you are crying; he kisses you on the cheek. “If they are alive, then so will the rest of our people.”

Tears of happiness brim in your eyes; all you needed to do now was make it to Terminus.

[thewondrousdreamer]

Im properly gonna get hate for this but I need to get this out there. As a Gojo lover and self-shipper I’d like to take a minute to explain how Satoru is so mischaracterized by his fan girls and how you SatoSugu shippers and the jjk fandom as a whole really get on my nerves. Disclaimer even tho im not a SatoSugu shipper I’m not hating on the ship just the fandom. And I don’t want to hear “she only hates SatoSugu bc she ships herself with Gojo. 😡” When in reality I hate all jjk ships bc wtf is Gojo X Megumi & Gojo X Itadori??? First off Gojo RAISED Megumi and his sister like a FATHER. He was their GUARDIAN since they were little kids. Secondly they’re minors Megumi and Itadori are literally 15 and some of y’all are shipping them with a 29 year old man??? That’s crazy and disgusting. Some of y’all are even shipping him with Sukuna the person who killed him and had y’all crying. I don’t even know how that ship makes sense tbh. Satoru is a tragically written character. He was a person with good morals, dreams and ambitions. Ever since he popped out of the womb he was forced to be the strongest bc of his gifts. He didn’t even get to have a childhood bc of that burden. Satoru has witnessed lots of deaths and has more blood on his hands then necessary AND he lost his best friend the person who really understood him the most. Satoru felt alone bc no one tried to get to know him as a person and not just as the strongest. No one even had the Human decency to even once ask him was he okay or even how his day was going. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t do what Geto did and turn villainous bc no one saw him as a person, not his colleagues/peers AND DEFINITELY not his fangirls. He died for sticking to his beliefs and morals. He died trying to protect people and properly felt weak bc not only was he forgotten by his students but his sacrifice wasn’t even acknowledged. He didn’t even really get a burial. But when season 2 came out some y’all really made Satoru’s entire personality about Suguru, His BEST FRIEND. Like I get it, Satoru and Suguru had great chemistry and went well together. They were fire & ice, yin & yang but I honestly don’t see them as nothing more than brothers not to mention the ship is not only overhyped but also over sexualized and it’s fandom is toxic. Like some of you guys are literally on twitter arguing and sending death threats to people who simply don’t like the ship. And are telling other Gojo lovers to off themselves bc they ship him with themselves or their OC’s and it’s not even that deep fr. And don’t even get me started on what some of y’all are doing to the Gojo figurines…. Absolutely disgusting💀. Then you guys literally read the manga and watch the anime not for the plot but just to prove to everyone that Satoru is gay and that it should be canon or just bc Satoru is pretty and y’all see him as ‘daddy 🤢.’ Satoru is also over sexualized for no reason everywhere I go there’s fan art of him sucking off or being balls deep in Suguru or someone either (A. Doing some twisted period blood ritual to his figurine or (B. Someone on tumblr is posting on the ENTIRE INTERNET how badly they want Satoru down their throat with his nut sack against their chin. some of y’all need to touch grass fr bc honestly wtf. It’s the same thing with SatoSugu it’s so sexualized for no reason. If it’s not freaky fanart of them it’s again, more tumblr post of the freaky positions Suguru would have Satoru in bc Satoru is a bottom apparently. I’m not hating on bl or gay ships but like why are they so sexualized? Especially by straight people, straight women to be exact. And not every thing needs to have ships or be gay. Satoru is so stripped out of his character not only bc he’s pretty but bc y’all took his bond with Suguru and made it in to something else entirely. Like why can’t two women or two men be best friends without getting shipped together? This happens in real life friendships too. Not only does this ruin the friendship but it takes away from the characters personality. Being in this fandom is tiring and just not fun.

[red-garden]

When will we, as a society, understand that Jin Guangyao’s story is about survival and the things he had to do to make it, rather than one super evil guy just trying to be awful and kill people? We can look past Wei Wuxian torturing and killing nameless Wen soldiers because we’re not attached to them and they’re Wens. That gets to be justified because it’s the bloody revenge of the protagonist on henchman #362. We can look past his desecration of the dead, his raising of fallen soldiers to tear apart their brothers in arms, because they’re the baddies. We look past him deserting Jiang Cheng after his return because he had people to protect and Jiang Cheng is an asshole (affectionate). Don’t misconstrue me- I love Wei Wuxian, and I think that he is a basically good person that was pushed past his breaking point and did some truly awful things as a result. He’s not a bad person. But he’s not better than Meng Yao.

Walk with me, Jin Guangyao antis. Let’s recount every bad thing Jin Guangyao has ever done in chronological order.

1) killed Nie Mingjue’s general

2) got Su She to cast the 100 holes curse on Jin Zixun (possibly to frame Wei Wuxian)

3) advocated for and later worked with Xue Yang

4) killed Nie Mingjue

5) banged his sister before he knew they were siblings, later married her after knowing

6) everything about Jin Guangshan’s death

7) allegedly killed his own son

8) chopping nie Mingjue up into little pieces and keeping his head in a cupboard

9) putting all the juniors in The Zombie Cave to get everyone on Wei Wuxian’s ass and kill a lot of people

10) almost killing Jin Ling

Numero uno first ever Bad Meng Yao Deed was killing Nie Mingjue’s general. You know, the general that constantly belittled him and repeatedly insulted his mom. Not only is this one totally understandable, it was also filial.

Next the 100 holes curse. There’s not solid proof that he wanted to frame WWX for this, it’s more likely this was just a better hidden filial killing in the name of his mother’s honor that ended up negatively impacting WWX.

Xue Yang is a little freak, but he’s a powerful, smart little freak. He was to protect Xue Yang in the interest of his father, although he does keep working with him after JGS’s death. This one was a power grab, trying to have extra pieces on the board to ensure his position among the Jin.

Nie Mingjue was another filial killing. If there’s one thing Meng Yao is gonna do is always be filial to his mom. Additionally, Nie Mingjue was not a perfect innocent angel either, he supported killing the Wen remnants. This wasn’t Meng Yao killing the last unicorn y’all. AND AND ALSO ALSO Jin Guangshan ordered this!!!!!!!!!! He was obeying his father to maintain his social position!!!!!!! What’s not clicking?

I get really mad over the Qin Su stuff, because marrying her after she was already pregnant was the kindest thing he could do for her. Should he have told her they were siblings and let her make her own choice? Absolutely. But he was trying protect her, and I can’t fault him for that. (Call back the nonconsensual golden core transfer)

The only thing I won’t defend is how he killed JGS. JGS was world’s worst guy, but no one deserves to be raped under any conditions. The sex workers he hired didn’t deserve to die, they didn’t deserve any of that. One thing I will say is that he didn’t plan for Sisi to be there. She had been transferred, he didn’t expect her, and after the fact he fed and clothed and kept her comfortable for the rest of her life. Keeping her under house arrest was how he protected his social position. Psychologically speaking I understand why he killed JGS like this however. While jiggy loved his mom, it’s clear he didn’t love sex workers more broadly, and saw his mom as an exception among them. He didn’t see the sex workers he killed as people, only saving Sisi because she was another supposed exception. For JGS, this was a taste of his own medicine type beat. JGS is a rapist, who raped Qin Su’s mom and jiggy’s mom when she was 15. I completely understand why he chose to kill JGS this way, but that doesn’t make it okay.

Jin Rusong’s death is completely alleged. While it ended up being politically advantageous to jiggy to squash the smaller sects that plotted against him, we have no idea if he killed his son. While he does say he does, he also says he killed Qin Su, who killed herself. While he may feel responsible for both their deaths, that doesn’t mean he killed them. I should point out the one claiming he killed his son was Sect Leader Yao, you know, the mob mentality character.

Chopping Nie Mingjue up is just common sense. Harder for a fierce corpse to kill you if it’s just a head. Harder to identify a body if it’s just a leg. “This is desecrating the dead” AND WHAT WAS WEI WUXIAN DOING, RIDDLE ME THAT BATMAN

For the juniors, this one was just poorly thought out tbh. He needed the Jianghu to get WWX’s ass because he was going to uproot him from his comfortable life. So he harmlessly leaves all the kids in a cave, gets everyone out there, gets their energy sealed, and lets people point fingers at WWX when the zombies start coming. He knows this likely would result in the deaths of many cultivators- many cultivators who need I remind you, make up the bourgeois, talk nasty about his mom, and who supported killing the Wen Remnants. This was like the ocean gate of wuxia, but y’all aren’t ready for that. He was protecting the life he worked so hard for, plain and simple 

Okay there are two things I won’t defend. While I don’t think he would’ve taking JL’s life, I can’t imagine how traumatic that was for Jin Ling. BUT AGAIN, I understand why he did it. He was grasping at straws, clinging to anything he thought might keep him alive, and he did a desperate, shitty thing. If you want to believe he never loved Jin Ling because of this moment, be my guest, but if there’s one thing jiggy can do is love.

All in all, he did a lot of desperate, shitty things to claw his way to a better life, and a lot of desperate shitty things to keep it. If you think he shouldn’t have cared so much about being part of the Jianghu, CONGRATULATIONS, YOU MISSED THE POINT !!🎉🎊 Poverty is violence, and he grew up in it. It was his mother’s wish, what she broke herself doing, to give him a better life. He was a good son, not going to squander what his mother gave him, trying to protect his very precarious position in a society that hated him for the fact of being born wrong. He’s not a moral paragon, but no one in mdzs is. They’re all people that react in deeply human ways to deeply unfair situations. They lash out, commit violence, do things they regret. Jiggy did a lot of terrible things, but the point is that he shouldn’t have had to.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Loyalties

Fate starts here

There was a sense of unreality as she watched in morbid fascination as her family compound went up in flames. Her mother had foresaw this fuckery happening and warned her father that his shadowy backdoor dealings would throw their pack into the fray. Really, everyone should have been so fucking for real about her father's enemies selling him out and putting their pack at risk. But in the end it didn't matter because her mother was dead, killed in the raid and chalked up as some poor omega caught in the crossfire. If only the authorities knew that Carrie Williams was really Carrie Castello and she was indeed the dominant omega in Antony Castello's pack. The woman behind the man who was wanted for several cruelties and backdoor illegal trade deals. Sure Antony was the public face of the Castello empire, but Carrie kept shit in motion. She dutifully watched the cash flow, kept an eye on how funds were laundered, kept his other more public facing omegas and beta partners in line. Carrie was a beast, and truth be told, when her alpha went into hiding a week before, she set things into motion for all four of the heirs to escape and be legally untouchable. Carrie was the glue that held the Castello pack together.

Well, Carrie was now dead and the only daughter she had was quietly watching international news talk about how this pack, her family, was involved in an international conspiracy and crimes, but was very selective on what that meant.

Bambi, the young woman, was now the only person who could keep the pack going behind the scenes. Antony, her sweet and darling father, was in hiding, effectively leaving his three sons in charge of things, which meant that she was in charge of everything her mother did. Everything including relocating the main pack (which was small really because even though she knew there were other children they were half bastards, her mother was too nice really), pack finances, pack politics, making sure that two out of three brothers keep a polite public image. She would have to figure out how to spin that she and her pack had nothing to do with the Castello crimes and were unaware of the shady underbelly of their father's and his associates' doings should it ever come up. In truth, she was going to have to be the brains going forward or at least until her father could turn up safely. Assuming that he would ever turn up again, this raid had been worse, and some fancy task force was brought in to catch him.

“Aunt Bambi?” Her name was softly spoken by her niece, Sophia. The little girl was a mix between her brother (though she wasn't sure which one as all three shared two omegas) and her best friend. Hazel eyes stared up at her and the little girl crawled into her lap. “Are my daddies gonna meet us in England for vacation?”

Bambi nodded her head and turned off the news coverage, switching the tv to Bluey. “It's not really going on vacation, we as a pack decided to move to England for a while.”

“Is Daddy Xavier gonna meet us there?” She asked, the girl was really close to him and everyone suspected she belonged to him biologically.

“Yeah, he just has to finish up some things for work and he and your momma will be with all of us in England before you know it.” She kissed the little girl on the forehead. “You need to get some more sleep Sophia, we have a long day traveling tomorrow and it's not just me and you this time running off to spend money.”

Sophia giggled and settled into Bambi's warm hold. They all had another long day ahead of themselves, from escaping their compound in South America to getting to the states quietly and then getting everything set up for the last leg of the trip; Bambi was exhausted. She was traveling with children, two six year olds and two four year olds with no help. She planned it that way, logistics demanded that Malik go ahead of them all to get the house ready. He also had to make it seem like he was moving his pack across seas for business reasons. So the European Branch of Temple Ballistics and Weaponry had to be made to look like it was failing and needed the CEO to come and set things right. Aaron would be stuck in America for an extra day, doing damage control before he could slip away, and lastly Xavier would need to smuggle himself into England. The dummy had gotten put on a no fly list, and he needed to find a private jet that could be paid off to keep him off the passenger manifest. Gloria and Symphony, both close friends of hers and omegas, wouldn't be with them until a few days later.

All in all, it really was just Bambi and the kids for the next few days. But their escape from South America, away from the chaos that was the illegal trades, away from the fuckery that was their life, was being executed perfectly.

141

“Well that could have gone better.” Kate was standing at the front of the room at one of the many black sites in South America. Behind her were images of the people who had escaped or were killed. “Antony Castello managed to escape, our intel was out of date but we managed to uncover millions of pounds worth of illegal arms, scientific research, and freed plenty of enslaved people.” She clicked through the slide show that documented the mess that was created. It was like a mini war, the people they went against actually had military grade weapons, they had genuine training and above all the ones they caught were extremely loyal to Antony Castello.

“Christ, ‘onster had a long list of sins didn’ he?” Johnny had leaned back in his chair.

Kate gave him a look and nodded her head, “yes but this debrief is about what the next steps are. The Americans we have been working with on this op have informed our higher ups that they suspect that there was either an informant in the midst who is working closely to this case or they paid for information.”

Price raised an eyebrow and huffed. “Is that why our main target was gone?”

“Possibly.” Kate sighed, “either way, I want to thank 141 for helping to lead this op. You four are going to go on leave-”

Simon grunted his displeasure at that one while Johnny cheered.

“The leave is for a month, I need you guys well rested before I start sending you out again. As for this particular case, the Americans are heading up another investigation into it and we have some people on team to assist. This could very well be a multiple country conspiracy.”

Kyle let out a low whistle, “How could one man even control all of that?”

Kate smirked, “you four are alphas, so of course I'm sure you can understand that an alpha’s drive for dominance can come into play. Then again, we suspect he has others keeping things moving along. Legally, he doesn't have a pack, but the reality is he probably does, but they are well hidden.”

“So the plan is to find his pack and use them to lure him out? That's a bit harsh.” Johnny knitted his brows together. His first thought was the innocent omegas and pups caught in all this. After all, no sane omega, beta, or anyone would really ally themselves willingly with this mess.

“Well Soap, it's a good thing that those ethics are not left up to you.” John said, “We'll be ready Kate should you need us for this particular operation.” John could see how he would be concerned about the poor innocents trapped with these people, but this was a dangerous man on the run.

Kate shut off the projector, and the lights dimmed back on. “You four get out of here and have a good break.”

[dirtytransmasc]

hey there, cool blog <3 I love reading your takes on things

so I wanted to ask your take on larycent and what you think we’ll see in season 2

(wrote this whole thing out and then my computer died before I could post it. my first attempt at this was much better. this is cruel and unusual punishment, this whole thing is now infused with anger. not towards you, just in general.)

I should first start off by saying, thank you, I'm so happy you like reading my stuff, second off, I'll say I may be one of the worst people to ask, cause Larys is one of those characters I hate so much, plot be damned, he could choke on one of his stupid flowers within the first 5 minutes of season 2 and I couldn't give less of a shit. I'm not typically like that with characters, I tend to try and give a character enough grace to care about their place in plot, but Larys just makes me that angry. despite this, I will try to be appropriately opinionated and give you a proper answer lol.

from a story point of view their dynamic is fascinating. here's this guy with such little standing (compared to her as queen) who wields so much power against her. it starts out when she is young and alone, he spots this weakness and befriends her, giving her information, gives her company she so longs for, slowly spinning this web around her. then as she gets older, he becomes a sort of confidant, biding his time, until he finds the right moment to strike. he bends her words, given in great trust and secrecy, most likely not the first dangerous secret they've shared, and uses it to 'justify' (he didn't need her command to do it, he just waited to do it in a way that he could hold her accountable for it) killing his father and brother. this gives him power, he can use this against her, to keep her close. he's piled up blackmail at this point, he's got her bound in his web of secrets, she can't leave.

she knows he's dangerous now, she has to keep him close, or he could hurt her, her kids, her image, the people around her.

the other thing is, he gets off on it all. he gets off on bringing her to his level, by stripping her of her agency as queen so that way they are equals.

then by some means, he gets her to give herself up in a sexual manner. he had already been doing this, in a way; I vaguely remember some sort of statement or interview from Matthew Needham about how Larys gets off on bringing her down, on filling her with shame and guilt, on making her feel dirty. so getting her to truthfully give herself up to him for whether it be to keep him satisfied (I'll come back to this point in a second) or for information, gives him the ultimate gratification.

he was like a parasite, taking and taking and taking from her until he was satisfied. she couldn't get rid of him, as he posed a threat to her and others, she couldn't ignore him because then he would act out and be a threat. he had to be kept satisfied. she had to give him a purpose, a use, an outlet to feel like he had power. like a dog, if he was left to himself, he would grow bored and unruly, she had to offer herself to keep him entertained.

both Olivia and Matthew played this dynamic out so well. Matthew played Larys so slimey and gross and just irksome, I was uncomfortable whenever he was on screen. Olivia played Alicent's discomfort and forced compliance so well, I just felt insanely bad the whole time.

it really built Larys up as this thinly veiled evil, he could be... well behaved and friendly, he could be useful, he could be an ally of sorts, all for a price, and if that price went unpaid or he felt undervalued, he could quickly become something so downright awful. he could be something downright evil if he wanted to really, that he was willing to bend words and step on toes (ironically) to get what he wanted and show off his power.

it also built up Alicent, adding onto her list of horrors in life, and putting her in this power limbo. she was queen, yet she was felled by this nobleman, brought down to his level if not lower. while some (*ahem* team black stans *cough cough*) saught to demonize her for her suffering, it really led me to sympathize with her more than before. she had suffered this mans sick and twisted game since she was a child, and he shows no signs of stopping. she's always stepping around fear, knowing the monster she let into her chambers, unable to get him out.

so, outside of the fact that I hate to see my girl suffering so horrible, I can't say I love their dynamic, but I don't hate it... its like, so horrible but so interesting, and I hate it not because it's poorly done or unnecessary, it just makes me feel gross and horrible. 10/10 characterization, 10/10 portrayal, 10/10 plot building -100/10 making me feel nice lmao.

onto predictions: I think she's going to attempt to stand up to him and fail. at the end of season 1 we see her lose Viserys (abuser number 1) and stand up to Otto (abuser number 2) finally putting him in his place after years of biting her tongue to him, acting against him (ordering Aegon be brought to her, that the crowning of aegon/treatment of Rhaenyra be under her command, etc,). I think she'll attempt to continue this pattern and stand up to Larys, who has been nothing but an aching wound in her side.

its only then that he will truly show how evil he can be. he will show his anger, his wrath, the power he holds over her head. he has years of blackmail against her, he will make this evident. it wouldn't surprise me if we get a scene paralleling Daemon and Rhaenyra and the choking scene, if even if only slightly. he will do something to make her keep him at her side. I think he will be the first to bring true horror to our girl. we have seen fear, strife, anxiety, worry, and disbelief, but we have not seen horror. truthfully, I think he's the only one I believe capable of doing that to her.

he is happy to remain sat loyally at her feet (again, the irony) so long as she respects him and lets him use her to get off when he pleases, so after his little show of power, when he instills fear into her once more, he will lie back down like a good little parasitic inside man, while she waits in fear, forever caught in his web. it brings this new air of sick and twisted to it all; his true self has been revealed, he can no longer be looked at with any level of incapacity or harmlessness (not that he really could before, but I don't really know how to describe what I'm thinking of in any other way), yet he reverts back to his normal self. he may be more assertive of his power over her, his word may have a sharper edge to them, but he will still play his role as her obedient servant, while she suffers the stresses of it all.

its this forced 'trust' Alicent is forced to reenter that will keep him at her side up until the end of it (I believe they separate when he is to smuggle Maelor out of the city, but I'm not sure if/when Maelor will be brought into the city, so we'll see how that goes) and I think that dynamic will be equally awful as it is interesting to watch play out.

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[hauntingblue]

ENIES LOBBY TIME!!!

Sanji's face here.... he Knows he is going to fuck him up

THAT IS SANJI??? 😨

Holding them in my hands again....

Sanji struck a nerve there akdjaoajkq

Increible trio btw.... look at the evidence

............ me next please 🙏🏻

That is love right there I can see it

What if we all killed ourselves (except usopp is telling her the opposite ajahkdhsakjd)

I need sanji to go insane like this more often.... after the timeskip it doesn't happen as much and I love to see him suffering

This is so funny.... there is no denying to her face card

"It's not like she actually wants to die" well yes she does, but no because you know she doesn't really. It is in a quantum state right now

Luffy is such a menace akdhaksjkaak

TELL EM!!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!

Look at franky worrying about robin.... do not fret luffy is coming and he will NOT lose!!!!!

This is zoro remarking how usopps fear of being left behind makes no sense.... this is so good.....

This is so endearing but it also breaks my heart....

Who is that sultry binch... (I don't recall this attack AT ALL and i'm sure we never see it again)

They botched his bbl.... 😔😔😔

Luffy's face here... he was convinced she wanted to go with them but was compelled to do otherwise but no.... he thought wrong and he can't fight to her.... I've just been staring at this page for minutes like damn.

Nevermind.... this is something your mother would say "you want to die??? Just wash the dishes and you can do whatever you want later"

"If you wanna die, or whatever...." this is so good like he knows what he is doing.... he Knows.... look at her face. After knowing how luffy and ace were as kids this just makes more sense (oda didn't think about this i'm sure but damn does it fit) also the slight manipulation.... look at all of us we're already here and look how we all miss you already... you know that post about luffy being selfish but his selfishness is jusg kindness to others... yesh

Thinking about robin's cinderella lifestyle.... why did her mother leave her with that aunt and why didn't some archeologist take her in?? Because she doesn't complain about anything just like she doesn't respond when that mother accused her of hitting her child without reason... that's so fucked

Alright this is funny (and also true)... I'm sorry fellow women....

*Justin Bieber voice* I like your laugh... dereishi shishishi

SHE'S GONNA ASK HER MOM TO TAKE HER TO THE SEA WITH HER??? LIKE SHE DOES AFTER WITH LUFFY??? MY GOD!!! I just bursted into tears like I got punched in the nose I can't keep going ajdhakajk

I lied i can keep going... but head in my hands over this....

Find out how my emotional stability survives this arc in ennies lobby part 2. coming soon

[tarnishedxknight]

It felt so good to hold Leah again, to have her near. It did wonders to calm him down, even as the Mist was running rampant through his body. It broke his heart, the way Leah begged the princess not to hurt him. As frightened as he may have been of Ashelia's potential desire for revenge at that point, Noah was taken down a peg or two to realize that his expression of his own fear may have in turn upset Leah as well.

Ashelia shook her head. "I'll not cause him any harm. That is not how healing spells work. I am not certain how it will feel to him, but others have described it as a slight burning sensation. Nothing excruciatingly painful, and it will not cause actual harm." Seeing how nervous Leah was, Ashe put her hand on her shoulder. "I will not lie to you and say that I would not wish for justice for my father, but I am also not willing to have that justice at the expense of those I care about. Basch loves his brother, and I-"

"Oh, what nonsense is this?" Noah said with irritation.

"Choose to disbelieve it, I care not... but it is true. He does love you. And I would never want to hurt him by causing harm to you." Ashe looked back at Leah. "I also would not take a father away from his child. Doing so would make me no better than he was when he took mine from me," she said, nodding in Noah's direction. Having said her piece, Ashelia began to cure Noah.

Drawing out the Mist from Noah was easier said than done, even for an experienced magic user like Ashelia. There was... a great deal of it present. So much so that Ashe honestly wondered how it had not killed him sooner. She wondered, though, if perhaps her healing of Basch years ago had somehow also affected Noah too. Twins sometimes had such bonds as strong as that. It would explain a lot, she thought.

Noah hated having to let Ashelia touch him, but he focused instead on Leah's close presence and the feel of her hand in his. With his gaze following what Ashe was doing, Noah noticed the glowing tracks of Mist flowing just under the surface of his skin in his arms and chest begin to move towards her hands. It was as if he was watching something sentient be attracted to a food source or called by some other authority. Like glowing worms, the tracks moved to her hands and the light from their accumulation was one with which he was all too familiar.

But as Ashelia accumulated the Mist, she also dissipated it, the glowing orange particles like embers from a fire dancing out into the air and disappearing.

Noah had never seen anything like that before, and he temporarily forgot his fear as he watched it happen.

When it was over, Ashe felt a bit tired, but she smiled and nodded to Leah, glad at least that she was able to do something good for her and her baby, even if she did not care for Noah. Excusing herself and eager to visit Basch to help ground herself, Ashelia now hoped that Noah would do something good with the second chance he'd been given. On her way out, she mentioned to the staff that Noah ought to be completely and permanently cured now, and thus was likely safe to release.

"I feel lighter, both in body and spirit," Noah admitted once Ashelia was gone. His mind was clearer and he didn't feel that rage he seemed to always carry around with him. "Calmer," he added. He lifted his hands and arms, seeing that all the glowing tracks of Mist were gone. Even his breathing felt easier.

When Leah commented on his eyes, he realized that removing the Mist must have returned them to their natural state. He nodded, though he wasn't all that happy about looking more like Basch than ever now. "We were both born with blue eyes, yes. Blue like the sea, our grandfather used to say, but our mother thought they more resembled the sky." He thought for a moment, realizing that he didn't just feel healthier, he was healthier. "My amber eyes, that glow you are used to... that was always the nethicite, the Mist from it, not me."

Slowly, he leaned to touch his forehead to Leah's. "Thank you... for pushing me to do this..." he whispered. A moment later he was pulling back, though, as the same two staff members from before tentatively entered to assess Noah's mental state. Finding him much changed and considerably calmer, they did some minor tests, listening to his heart and lungs and doing a few quick cognitive exercises with him, and then discharged him. He was free to go.

Breakdown reply @tarnishedxknight

The call had made all the colour drain from Leah's face. Hearing that the man she loved was in trouble, that his condition was deteriorating frightened her beyond anything else. She had told her managers once she was off the phone that she had a family emergency and left, not sticking around to answer any questions. She didn't know how much time she had after all, and so she wasn't about to waste it not being by his side.

She had been met by one of the medical team when she arrived, briefing her on what had happened and an update of what his condition was now. They had told her that he was still showing signs of aggression and that she should be careful, though she didn't listen. Noah was her partner, he had always been calm with her and so, she wasn't scared of him.

"Noah.."

Walking into the room, she had to take a moment to catch her breath when she saw him. He was still him, though the glowing orange tracks on his skin worried her. Still, she wasn't scared. "Noah it's me... it's alright."

[shutupdia]

Talked to my sister on the phone for three hours straight and it was probably the most personal we got with each other. Talking about the shit our parents put us through and how they never stopped the cycle of abuse. I was surprised because I told her i was glad our mom was gone and she wasn't mad at me over it which i expected. I also started crying during that conversation lol and we changed topics since i couldn't handle it. But like yeah. I also told her i was gonna try seeing my favorite aunt while in the hospital but i might leave before im able to see her because the only time she can see me is during spring break and i wanted to see her at least once. She was worried about me too. My dad didn't want me to tell anyone i was hospitalized because he doesn't trust anyone. I trust HER though. I love her a lot ever since I was little and looked up to her ever since I was little since I used to hang around her a lot when my great grandma was still alive.

Regardless, i told my sister about her seeing me and even if i can't see her here my sister said whenever shes free she can plan us three to do something together even if my sister doesn't like my favorite aunt. Since my dad only trusts my sister to go out alone.

I never got along with my sister a lot but i think all we needed like was a private conversation without our father knowing because i never get privacy and hes like really suffocating. He got mad and petty because i talked to my sister on the phone for so long and didn't call him for a while so that says enough 😔

[thebleedingeffect]

.

[sammydem0n64]

The whole plot of Crumbled! (at least the main plot since several characters aren’t. Involved in that. Funny side plots and characters baby!) is how organized crime affects people, inside of it and out. It’s how members of the mob don’t have anything else they can do in life aside from the life of crime, it’s how the general public are harmed by organized crime even if they aren’t being targeted personally, it’s how being a member of this lifestyle can destroy or build your relationships, it’s how no one is pure evil or pure good, it’s the complexity of people while also being about The Horrors.

No one here faces “traditional consequences” to their actions, aside from a few. Hershey doesn’t go to jail, Donna doesn’t die, etc etc. This is a story that doesn’t need those consequences. From day 1 you know these characters are doing horrible things, and at the same time these characters learn and fully comprehend they’re doing bad things. The most they get as “traditional retribution” is how some of their personal relationships are affected. Aside from that, these fuckers dont NEED what the masses would deem a traditional consequence because the entire fucking plot is them going through the horrors because of their actions! Being in the mafia and seeing and doing horrible things while having to just live with it is a pretty damn good “consequence” to me! Melphis doesn’t need to go to jail because “he needs to suffer the consequences of his actions” when every single damn day he suffers‼️

Even if Cheon’s family isn’t destroyed, even if the Oreona family doesn’t ostracize it’s members that are criminals, even if the extremes aren’t reached in these “consequences” there’s still a damn effect!!! But at the end of the day like I said these guys suffer the consequences of their actions constantly so they don’t need jail time or death or anything like that oh my god. And if you think that’s wrong and makes me romanticize, endorse or fucking glorify the mafia because Melphis doesn’t get locked up and only two members of the Oreo Gang die in the end then OHHHHHH GROW UP‼️ GROW UP‼️‼️

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 7)

Peter wasn't exactly sure what sequence of events had led him here. Here being the Chasity's kitchen, where Karen Chasity had served then milk and cookies. He vaguely remembered them discussing telling Grace's parents about her situation, especially since Grace had gone nearly catatonic following their encounter with the Lords in Black. Even now she was hunched in her seat, twitching at any sudden sound or movement.

Grace had killed someone. That thought was hard to deal with. Yes, she'd been involved with Max's death but that had been an accident. And yes, her eagerness and knowledge when disposing of the body was unsettling but this was something else. Peter wondered how many of his classmates had died because of her. Was it just Jason? She hadn't mentioned anyone else... but then again she hadn't really been talking much.

"It is so nice to meet some of Grace's school friends. She's told us so much about you, Stephanie," Karen said with a bright smile. It faltered a little when she looked at Peter, he wasn't sure if that was because Grace hadn't said anything about him, had said something bad or just because she didn't like the idea of her daughter having a male friend.

Stephanie gave her an uncertain smile, obviously wondering exactly what had been said, but was spared from replying by the sound of the front door.

"I'm home!"

"We're in the kitchen Mark! We have guests!"

Mark Chasity entered, greeting his wife with a kiss on the cheek before pausing to look over the teens at his table.

"And who might you be?"

"This is Stephanie and Peter. They're some of Grace's friends."

"Stephanie Lauter?"

"That's me."

"It is so wonderful to finally meet our little Grace's best friend"

"Umm..."

"And... Peter? Is that right?"

"Yes sir. Peter Spankoffski"

Mark's eyes widened slightly.

"You're Theodore's little brother?"

"You know Ted?" Oh dear. That could be very bad.

"We went to camp together when we were younger. I must say, I hope you're less of a deviant than he is."

"I... erm, I try to be? I'm more focused on my studies than anything... deviant-ish." Mark made a thoughtful noise and Peter gave Steph a 'help me' look across the table. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. If the Lords in Black wanted her to be their prophet and use her experience watching her father play politics, she might as well start now.

"We actually wanted to talk to you both about something rather important. Isn't that right Grace?"

Grace's head jerked up from where she'd been in deep contemplation of a cookie she was steadily reducing to crumbs between her fingers.

"Yes... Momma, Daddy, can you sit down for a minute?"

The Chasitys took a seat, Karen's expression concerned while Mark's was more closed off.

Under the table Stephanie reached over and took Grace's hand, squeezing it gently.

"A few months ago, when all the murders were happening... umm... things got really strange and scary for me. And I found myself being tested... there were forces that used that fear to test my faith... and I... I failed."

"What happened sweetheart?" Karen asked.

"I sinned. I gave into my unclean thoughts. I let myself be defiled."

"Grace, please tell me you didn't..."

"I had sex. With a man. And... I'm pregnant..."

Karen let out a wail and clapped a hand to her mouth, tears shining in her eyes. Mark got to his feet and rounded on Peter.

"Did you do this?! I should have known, your family are all alike! Filthy deviants! Corrupting the innocent with your lustful ways!"

"I'm not the father!" Peter squeaked out. "No matter what you think of Ted, believe me I know what he's like and I'm sure it's justified, I am not like him. I'm Grace's friend. Only her friend! And I'm a virgin!"

"Then who is it? Do you know? Or have you sunk so low into sin there are multiple options?" He demanded of Grace, who had wrapped her arms around herself and was visibly fighting tears.

"No daddy. There was just one. Just one time. It was Max Jaegerman. I'm sorry, I know it was wrong!"

"I knew book carrying would lead to nothing good..." Karen said softly. "I should have spoken up... I'm a terrible mother..."

"Mom, no..." Grace reached over to touch her mom's arm but Karen pulled away.

"What do we do Mark?"

"Don't worry Mother, I can handle this. Grace will go to stay with her aunt and uncle, where she can repent for her sins."

"Mark, isn't there any other way?" Both Karen and Grace were crying now. Stephanie was gnawing at her bottom lip anxiously, while Peter's hands were balled into fists beneath the table. He felt a strange unfamiliar fury surging through him.

"We can't let people know about this, imagine what our church circle would say. It's what's best, Mother."

"Best for who?" Peter snapped, unable to keep quiet any longer. Mark blinked, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Best for who, Mr Chasity? Cause it certainly doesn't seem like you're thinking about what's best for Grace"

"I beg your pardon! You have no right to speak to me that way! This is a private family matter, I would like you to leave!"

Peter got to his feet. He suddenly seemed taller than usual and Stephanie could have sworn there was a faint green sheen to his eyes.

"Grace asked us to come because she was scared. She hates herself for what happened because you've made her believe that any kind of mistake makes her worthless. She reached out to you because you are her parents and you're supposed to love and support her, no matter what! Instead you berate her and all you can think about is how it reflects on you. I may not be part of your church but I was raised Christian and I know that God is supposed to be about love and forgiveness. Honestly, I think he would be ashamed of you right now Mr Chasity." Mark spluttered in rage, his face turning an unpleasant shade of puce. "But it doesn't matter what you think. If you won't support her, we will."

"I am her father!"

"And she's eighteen and a legal adult. You have no authority to send her anywhere," Steph cut in, moving to stand beside Peter so the two of them were bracketing Grace. "Maybe you should try asking her what she wants to do. What she needs."

"I don't want to leave..." Grace said quietly. "I'm happy in Hatchetfield."

"You live under my roof-" Mark began but was cut off by Steph.

"She can stay with me. Come on Grace, lets go get your things."

Wiping her eyes, Grace got to her feet and followed Stephanie upstairs. Peter moved to stand at the foot of the stairs, wary that Mark might try something. Neither of the parents followed, but he could hear Karen Chasity sobbing in the kitchen.

It only took a few minutes for the two girls to return with a gym bag stuffed with clothes. Peter guided them towards the front door. As he opened it, Mark and Karen emerged from the kitchen.

"Grace stop this foolishness right now!" Mark demanded. Steph wrapped her arm around Grace's shoulder more firmly.

"Grace, please..." Karen begged softly. Grace paused, meeting her mother's eye.

"I'm sorry Momma."

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

---------------------------------

She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

[jin0]

Of Love, Lust and Wasted Time - Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Pairing : Prince!Nicholas Alexander Chavez X Princess!Reader

Summary : It had been a month since your wedding to Prince Nicholas. He hadn’t performed his marital duties yet. Was there a problem ? Yes. Would you communicate ? No. Would you sneak into his chambers at night in your sleeping gown ? Yes.

Warning : 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, fingering, lots of making out, titty sucking, clit sucking, pussydrunk nicholas, virgin reader, experienced nicholas, arranged marriage, cussing, slight pussy eating, slight size kink (I review the story and funnily enough, their was nothing slight about that one), slight cervix abuse, marking, talk of bedding ceremony, talk of traditional medieval marriage I guess, meant to be vanilla, don’t know if I got there.

A/N : that man’s a slut, love that. also, I promise she’s not a pick me, just really sheltered.

_______________________________________________

The customs would have it that on the very night of a maiden’s wedding she would perform the act of consummation first in front of the highest members of the court to prove her purity and then proceed with the act for her lord husband’s eyes only.

But this wasn’t a fucking barn, and people would learn to do things with manners.

Or at least, that had been the way Prince Nicholas had put it when the councilmen had insisted upon it during the wedding preparation. Their insistence upon watching the soon to be queen being defiled could’ve been equated to regular old traditions and care for traditions. The princess herself believed it to be what it was, old men hungry to devour with their eyes and feast on the most embarrassing moment of her life.

She would curse her mother and maids for the rest of her life for not having taught her the basics on what was expected of a wife or what would go into these “nightly performance” she would have to endure. Part of her knew better though, not only because her mother would pull her by the ears until they pealed off and not only because it was unbecoming of a young girl to complain but also because she had done everything in order to not follow the regular education that highborn ladies had to follow.

Because the princess had chosen to be none other than a prince.

As overly simplified as it was, it was the clearest way to express the life she lived or life as she lived it. Less than a choice, it was simply what made sense. From the moment she could stand on her two feet she was made to run after her brothers rather than walk slowly and with poise like a lady would. She was meant to chase and scream and throw herself at the nearest danger because what was danger for the crown but the daily life of any of the people they ruled over ?

While she learned to wield the sword, mount the horse and shoot arrows, she also learned what it would entail to be a princess, one day to be married. And seeing some of the men offering themselves to become her husband, she did regularly wish a battle would kill her first. A battle, or the trouble her mouth would get her into. Of course, she had learned and knew all there was to know. All except that. Sex.

With a father like hers, with a mother like hers, she was almost certain she would never marry so why waste her time learning about sex, right ? Luckily appearing like a good omen, Nicholas did not simply see himself as worthy. The initial discussion had not even concerned a marriage proposal.

When he had arrived in the neighboring kingdom, his proposal concerned trades and the opening of a route through his seas in exchange for three troupes of their best soldiers to be sent into his realm and help the thieving crisis raging through his lands. It was true that the knights of your home were known to be the greatest there ever was, loyal and strong, one of them could equate to a fleet of ten. Of course anyone would want them.

And he had wanted her too. As soon as she had walked in, dragging his lord commander by the cloak for blocking the way to the council room.

She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, she just wanted to make sure her father was fine and so were her brothers. The man at the door was unfamiliar and truth be told, rather rude. It was a misunderstanding and her response was unwarranted. She had apologized, the prince had laughed. Surprising response.

For the rest of the meeting, she had been allowed to stay and she would’ve focused on the information being shared and the heated debate between both councils had she not been busy staring at the man she knew to be staring holes into her. His heated gaze felt like the sun shining directly unto her, melting away her mind and the mere thought of reason. She felt herself crumbling in on herself the longer she sat there to be undressed in public.

He hadn’t intended to stare with such insistence. He had even tried to look away, attempting to return to the discussion. He had. Had it ever been so difficult to look away from a woman ? Never, not when thousands of them had vied for his attention since he had come of age. Yet here he was, victim to his passions, digging into her flesh with his eyes, trying to move on from the gust of wind which had blew his way when she had walked into the room, carrying the sweet scent of honey. He had wanted nothing more but to leap to her feet and run his nose along her soft neck to engorge himself in her sweetness.

She hadn’t known whether to curse her father or thank him for offering them to stay longer than intended, stay until they reached an agreement on the details of their agreement. He had spent the night and from afar she was almost certain she could feel the heat of his body next to hers, warmth radiating through the dinner they had shared and through the halls of the castle, from his chambers to hers.

He hadn’t spent a better night, sitting in his bed, kept awake by the thought of the divine princess sleeping only meters away, peaceful yet clawing at his mind as if a parasitic fungus taking power over his body. She awoke every molecule forming his being, all aware of one another, uncomfortably held together by nothing but a thread of desire and melting resolve. Poor prince who wished to be back home in that moment, in the privacy of his quarters, far from prying eyes and then need to keep up appearances. Poor Nicholas who wished he could stroke his hardened cock all night, relieved of the ache burning in his loins, and ruining him from the inside.

With very little sleep in his system and his mind and body banding together against his better judgement, he had not moved from the position he had been occupying for hours now, but his head had snapped towards the door when he had heard the noise outside his door, footsteps as light and almost inaudible, had he not been wired towards her from the moment he had seen her. He knew it was her, and the sound of clinking metal and rushing maids confirmed his suspicion.

That morning, he had listened as she was being prepared to go on a morning ride. Interesting she was, the girl of his dreams. She kept quiet while her maid tried to dissuade her from going, she would need to be there to greet the guests. She assured she would be there to break fast with them. He would admit it, he had rushed to his balcony to watch her leave.

It was still dark, but he knew she had seen him, and he had seen her, both locking eyes for a moment before she had left. She had promised to be at breakfast, he wanted her for breakfast, but he would content himself with what she had offered. In the meantime, he had slept lulled to sleep by her eyes staring at up at him. It was enough, all he needed.

She had needed to clear her head, but her head hadn’t been any clearer when she had returned as soon as the first rays started shining. She knew she had gone mad when while hurrying to meet with the rest of her family, she suddenly found herself very conscious of her body, her mind and her appearance, so conscious she thought they would all leap out of her body to be stared at by anyone looking in her discussion. The meal was difficult, but madness was kept at bay, hidden from the public. The prince invited her to join the council that would follow, her presence being of great importance to him.

Again, the councils were boring, and this one was not moving anywhere. While the proposal was good, requesting for such a number of men in exchange for a route into a neighboring sea could’ve been good but it simply was not enough, not to the lords of the councils and slowly, not the King. Madness, she had equated her strange behavior to earlier. And as a great scientist, she had confirmed it when in a burst of genius, she had made a proposal.

She remembered how her mother would speak of her father coming to offer himself as a marriage prospect. The princess had been young but the look in the queen’s eyes, she recognized it as the same she had that morning, the look they had shared together before she rode off into the night. As her mother would often say, she had seen that man and had to have him.

“Why not offer a union instead. Your kingdom united to ours in exchange for all the men you desire for as long as you desire.” Had she said, like a princess who had seen the man she had to have.

Less than an offer, it sounded like a statement, one he had accepted before it was even uttered, a statement he would obey like a soldier would obey their ruler. All noise quieted, the Lords, princes of the realm and the King stunned into silence by her words. It had been the first time she had even looked at him purposefully, looked at him like he was already dancing in her palm, a puppet to her every whim.

Before being a good king, he was a good father and as he liked to say, anything she would dream of, he would provide. She had looked at him, his little girl and he could see her assurance, almost like an impenetrable wall. He had watched in silence as Prince Nicholas smiled, accepting the proposal while dreaming of a life of love which had never interested him.

This had been the most ridiculous decision she had made but it had been made, a glorious proposal in the minds of all the councilmen, all rejoicing at the thought of killing two birds with one stone, one of these birds being her and the other being the bird of decency she was meant to keep on her shoulder.

That girl was insane, but she was getting married.

For the next months, she walked almost aimlessly, only ever coming alive when he was in her orbit. She had tried to reassure her mother the day of her departure by claiming that she would learn to love her future husband. How was she made to tell her loving mother that she had fallen as soon as she had seen the man and that this whole marriage was nothing, but a tantrum hidden under negotiations ? As awkward as she was, poor girl left her home, three of her brothers with her off course to assist her and all her maids following. The prince was strange, he had agreed to everything she had requested before leaving, even accepting to take her horse on the journey to her new home. Everything about this had been strange, all of it but she was not one to go back on her words, not when this opened such a great opportunity for both kingdoms.

She swallowed her confusion and walked in the shoes of the princess she would need to be, a role which was less arduous to play when her soon-to-be husband seemed to agree to anything and everything she could want, everything except being around her.

For the seven months which had preceded their wedding, she had grown to crave his company and attention, flowers of love blooming brightly in her chest and crying out to him, crying out for his eyes on her, like he had done that morning. She wanted him in more ways than the ones she kept to herself, and he seemed more interested in everything there could ever be. She had hoped that on the night of the wedding, they would cross the bridge together and finally, she could learn about him from his mouth and not from those of the people of the castle and the court.

Nothing had changed and here she was, the moon high in the sky, her feet cold and bare as she fidgeted with the fabric of her nightgown. The cold air was nothing compared to the warmth radiating out of her skin and seeping through the thin cloth covering her nakedness.

“What are you doing here ?”

She jumped in terror, so busy rationalizing and overthinking that she hadn’t heard the door opening or closing. Turning to face him, she wished she could die instantly, wished to be swallowed by the floor below.

There he was, just out of a bath which had taken more time than necessary but still needed to clear his head. He enjoyed to privacy of his chambers, a robe covering his manhood from her gaze. His eyes were fixated on her as soon as he had walked in, dark and tempted, he remained at a safe distance, observing as she tried to speak, gathering her thoughts and looking away before speaking.

“My apologies, husband… I… I wanted to see you…” Seen she had. “It was… It was urgent.”

“Are you okay ?” If worry spread through his mind, he made sure to hide it. He watched her nod before letting out a discreet sigh of relief and taking a seat on the chair that faced his bed, next to the chimney. “What could be so urgent that you would need to come see me so late and in such clothes ?”

She remained quiet and so did he, barely focused on his own state but entirely aware of how little she was dressed and how much he could see. Adjusting himself in the seat, he swallowed a groan, one meant to calm his nerves and snapping him out of whatever he was doing.

“I… We… We have been married for a month now, my prince.” Her voice was low and soft like the summer breeze and burning away at his decorum. He stared at her as she straightened her back and raised her head, reverting to the girl she’d been when he first met her. “We’ve been married for a month, and you have not touched me still… I do not want you to think that it is something I think of often as it would be a stain on my character that I could not withstand but… Have I done something to displease you ? Perhaps if you tell me I could fix whatever it is, and we could move on as newlyweds.”

He heard the way her breathing picked up, almost able to see her heart beating out of her chest as she spoke, trying to explain herself while he stared in silence, pathetic victim to his weakened spirit and the images it spread through his mind while she spoke.

Of course he wanted to touch her, ravish her, devour her whole. There was nothing more on his mind, no other thought consummated Prince Nicholas’ mind like the thought of her crumbling in his sheets did. He could almost feel it in her scent wherever she went, the sweet taste of her nectar on his tongue. If he allowed himself to dream more, he could feel her tightness around his length, holding him nicely while she squirmed under his body. He wanted nothing more than to have her whenever he saw her, her stature in front of his, so breakable and frail. The thought of his arms enveloping around her and engulfing her whole, like a wave.

How delicate and marvelous she was, his darling wife. How could he even think of touching her when he knew what he would do to her was beyond salacious ? How could he do that to her and ever go back to being cordial with her after ? He knew that she was poison to his mind and to his tongue, one single bite and he would never ever be able to go without. How was he meant to live a life when he dreamed of living in her skin, grinding himself down into fine powder to be breathed into her lungs. How could that ever happen ?

He had almost sworn himself to a life of sleepless nights, attempting to quench his thirst for her in the dead of the night with his hand on his cock, before she had walked into his room covered by almost nothing, asking why he had not bedded her yet.

Nicholas stood quietly, walking up to her with a dark expression on his features. He was so handsome, the most beautiful man she had ever seen, his hair still wet and his body glistening in the night.

“Are you asking me to bed you, dear wife ? Is that what you want ?”

He stood millimeters away from her, her air wrapping around his body and seeping into him. That damned scent, honey so thick and sweet he prayed to drown in it. She looked up at him, frozen by his tone and proximity. She could feel the warmth of him in her and wanted more, but a highborn lady could not want such things. Could they ?

She looked down, her eyes twinkling with disappointment and shame. This had all been wrong, a mess she had made and would have to deal with.

“I… I apologize, your grace… I did not mean to offend… I will go… Please, forget this ever happened.”

She held her hands tightly together to ground herself, taking long strides towards the door to prevent her tears from humiliating her further. She had barely reached the door that a large hand blocked the way by slamming the door shut. She jumped, surprised that all her years of training were not enough to help her notice whenever he moved around her.

She suddenly felt so small in front of him, her husband towering over her, large hands boxing her in his space. She could hear him breath softly, almost out of breath and sounding strained.

“Where do you intend to go exactly ?” His voice was deep as he spoke, shaking from the vibration it sent through her. “What… What do you think you are doing exactly ?”

He sounded pained by the very words, but she kept still, too scared to see where this would go if she turned.

“I wanted to return to my chambers, your grace…” In this whole conversation, this had been the clearest she’d been. All to say she was leaving, how annoying.

He chuckled and she was almost offended, because what exactly was so funny in this discussion ?

“You intend to return to your chambers… dressed like that ?”

Now she was offended. Was this truly what worried him ? One month married and he hadn’t touched her, but he worried about how she was dressed ? Of course, she knew why he worried, but she would still be angry at him for it, because why not ?

“The answer I gave earlier remains unchanged, your grace. Or would you prefer if I stripped completely ? Maybe then you would move out of my way then ?” There she was, the princess he had met that day, unbent by his titles. He could’ve almost laughed had the image she had planted in his mind, of her roaming bare in the halls, not angered him enough to go deaf.

He kept quiet and she almost thought he had died behind her before hearing the sound of fabric moving. Looking down at her feet, she saw the rope holding the robe closed on the floor and before she could process what was going on, she felt him move behind her pushing her into the door, his bare front against her, cock pressing into her backside as deep as she could feel it.

“You think… You think I would let anyone see you ? You think anyone ever deserved to see you ? Huh, dear wife ? Do you think anyone could ever dream of seeing you ?”

She couldn’t speak but he could hear her reaction in her breathing as it picked up, more erratic and less rhythmic. Her who had managed to remain somewhat composed until now was suddenly as quiet as a mouse, squeaking below him while he pressed himself into her.

If she asked, he would admit the jealousy and possessiveness he’d been feeling for her. Everyone could see it, but she remained clueless, too busy hiding from him. The bedding ceremony had been his last straw. Prince Nicholas was never known for losing his temper, so imagine the surprise of the lords of the court when he had raised his voice at them and his own father for attempting to keep the tradition of the bedding ceremony ? He had refused it, categorically, the idea of hungry old decrepit men staring at his darling in a moment that was form them only. Never. He would kill all of them for even thinking of it.

“I burn at the mere thought of you, your scent being the only thing I need to lose every bit of education I have ever received and… You think I would ever let you out of this room ?” His left arm wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her still. He tried not to lose it, feeling her push into him, her soft hands still holding onto her gown. He raised his other hand to move her hair out of the way before bending down to leave open mouth kisses on her neck. Deliberate and controlled, he wanted to go as slow as he could, savoring the moment. His tongue grazed her veins eagerly wherever his lips would go while he tried to keep his hips still, failing miserably and rutting into her. He could already see how nice and warm she would be around him, his sweet wife. His tongue on her skin wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger for her. “You want me to bed you, sweetness ? Fine. »

Every word he has uttered up until now had ignited something within her which a proper lady could never dream of letting out in their lives, but her instinct called for change in that very moment, the kind that was meant to undo all she had built herself to be in front of him. Because as condescending and arrogant as he might’ve sounded, she indeed, wanted nothing more than to be fucked. Partly for the sole purpose of experiencing the act as a woman, but also because the feelings she had started to feel for the man she had slightly tricked into a union were growing out of her control and called for some form of relief. Presently, the most adequate for would be the pleasure of the flesh, which she craved to indulge in.

« Tell me no, my dear… » He pleaded in a soothing voice she had only heard on their wedding night. « Deny me the pleasure of you and I will escort you to your chambers myself. »

She had expected more roughness from him, somehow. Almost ready to be unceremoniously dragged to the bed and stripped bare, she found herself melting more from the softness of his touch on her neck. His nose ran along her veins while his hips rutted slowly into the crevice of her backside. The wetness pooling between her legs dripped like poison, influencing the madness in her. As she took hold of the hand on her shoulder, she moved it to lay flat on her lower stomach. His fingers dug into her flesh, almost to pull her closer than she already was and yet, in truth, to scare her, maybe, into refusing him like he hoped.

The complexity of his mind in the moment made him almost just as deezy as she made him. He could almost feel delirium clawing at him, new senses appearing in him. Yes, he could feel her. The tightness of her pussy and the taste of her juices. He could all feel it. The prince was indifferent to the possibility that this was all in his head. The things which had been brewing in that same head for weeks now made it all the more necessary for him to listen for once. If he denied himself the pleasure of his wife, he would go mad. For weeks now, the prince had tried to act as friendly and neutral to her, even indifferent in the days when the pull towards her was too much to handle. He had tried as hard as any man could to deny himself pleasure both out of loyalty to her but also because no other woman could ever compare to her in his mind. Not when his nights were spent relieving a hard day’s work of ignoring and avoiding his wife. But in truth, how could he ever face such a beautiful being and taint her with the gunk flowing through him ? He couldn’t control the lewd images of her in his mind and until now, he’d almost managed to keep himself in check. Until she appeared in his bedchamber, demanding he touch her like she deserved and like he dreamt.

That did not change the fact that the woman he had tried to ignore for so long had grown a place for herself in his heart, a place that made it impossible to not give her the possibility to refuse what would ensue.

« Tell me no, my love… » He muttered, lips glued to her shoulder, as one last attempt to keep things how they were, to do things the right way, someday, maybe, when he wouldn’t be as weak to his passions as now.

And as she turned to look into his eyes, Prince Nicholas knew. In that moment, he knew he was destined for a life of allegiance to his wife and her every whim. With these beautiful eyes of hers, his princess had reiterated her earlier statement. Her answer, silent but acted remained unchanged.

« I don’t want to say no… » She whispered to him, their lips ghosting over the others.

No human word could ever fully grasp whatever followed next. Her whole body was suddenly caught by a force never seen before and spun around, her husband almost overjoyed but too taken by her lips to express it with full focus. She’s never tasted anything as sweet as his lips and he could say the same. The warmth of one another’s tongue, dancing in the others mouth, hoping, Prato to burn the other’s taste into their psyche, this was what this battle for control could be described as. Beyond control, they sought to catch up on lost time and feverishly discover as much as they could about the other.

Their lips encased perfectly into the others, Nicholas’ of course more taken and familiar with the act. He had tried to show decency and control, but the feel of her hot lips on his, shyly moaning into his had uprooted all forms of control.

His hands roamed, seeking for something to hold onto, anything to either ground him or feed his hunger for her. He found her wrists, her smaller hands back to holding onto the fabric of her nightgown. In that moment, he almost felt jealous of her and the opportunity she had to live in her own skin. He who could only dream of momentarily touching her could never be satisfied with the short amount of time he would get to spend with her. Years by her side would never be enough, not when he dreamt of their skins being merged together.

While his lips busied themselves on hers with fervor, his hands explored, touching, gripping, moulding and burning the feel of her in his mind. From her soft cheeks in his palm to the burn of her breasts on his bare chest, the prince did not know where to focus. His hand seemed to struggle leaving her cheek, keeping himself as chaste as the moment allowed to reassure her before moving to her neck. His fingers grazed the soft of her throat and she remained still, a willing victim to his increased thirsts.

When the princess moaned for the ninth time in his mouth, her lips parted and swollen, he pulled away from her to admire the mess below him.

« I haven’t even begun to explore you, my dear that you’re already so weak to me. » He chuckled, kissing the top of her nose and her forehead. Oh how fun this would be for the evil him looming on his shoulder.

He pulled away, allowing air and rationality to settle between them and for a second they remained still and quiet, drinking in the sight of one another. His exposed body had to be the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, a Greek statue in the flesh and dancing in the crevice of her palm. She stared at him like never before, a whole new sight granted to her and exposing him in his truth to her, the prettiest man she’d ever seen. So handsome and so willing to bend to her every desire.

Her eyes roamed around like the painting of a landscape meant solely for her sight. She reached his hips and bit her lips, her imagination running away from her control and painting the picture of his cock entering her repeatedly. She’s heard from her brothers about the steps of the act, and while the fear of confusion had been palpable initially, it had been a complete other feeling spreading through her at the moment. The princess was hornier than ever and the her insistent eyes on her husband’s hardened cock prodding out of the robe he wore did not make it any less evident.

A grin spread across the princes’ lips, just as into being watched by her as he was to admire in return. Him who had tried to not let his eyes wander could see freely now, the way her gown barely hid her peaking nipples or the way she’d kept her thighs tightly glued together as soon as he had stepped back.

The princess he had sworn fidelity and loyalty to now stood in front of him, sleeping gown falling off her shoulder and exposing more than just her cleavage.

When she reached towards him, her hand commending him to move and do what duty demanded, he wanted to laugh. There she was, his spoiled girl, leading him astray.

« The ache between my legs, husband… You are the source of it. I believe it to be your duty to soothe it. » A newfound confidence had crept its way in her veins and it intrigued him even more. To see her finally come out of her shell and demand of him, the prince, her lord husband. Nicholas took careful steps towards her before kneeling. His left hand found her right and took hold of her, their fingers intertwining tenderly.

With his free hand, he lifted the hem of her gown to expose her legs, rushing the fabric in his fist as he kept going higher, until reaching her hip. With some of the fabric still held up by his thumb, the rest of his hand slid along her flesh, and a sigh of relief escaped him. Deep and desperate, his head dropped as he pulled her closer. He let his forehead rest on her belly, nuzzling against her and kissing wherever he could reach.

His right hand which had still been holding the fabric of her gown slid under her thigh to part her legs. The prince let go of her hand and the fabric before laying a tender kiss over her bellybutton. He pulled back and signaled for her to open her mouth before gathering the gown and placing it between her lips and telling her to bite down. Like a good wife, she went along with his commands, holding onto his shoulders when he guided her palms towards them.

One of his hands came up to her backside, grabbing a handful while his right hand slid in between her legs to reach her mound. When his fingers plunged inside her, she almost felt her legs give out under her. Never had she felt such a sensation. His two fingers seemed to stretch her apart, too much already yet enough for her to quickly want more of whatever it was they provided.

« Shh, breathe. » He muttered, his hand unmoving.

She looked down to meet his eyes, her own glistening with tears from a foreign presence inside her. She blinked back tears while nodding softly and attempting to take a breath. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, her breaths ragged and trembling in concert with her trembling body. He nails were digging in his skin, crescent shaped marks littering his shoulders but his gaze never wavered, always on her. When she was certain that the pain had passed, she nodded slowly, gaining a smile from the man.

His fingers started going in and out of her while his lips kept kissing over her stomach. He could not take his eyes away from her, not at a moment like this when she was slowly starting to feel the pleasure of his touch. He could’ve, evidently, began with an other way of easing her into the act and the look of pain on her face truly made him want to peal his skin off. Now, as things would have it, she needed to be prepared before taking anything else and from the tightness of her pussy around his fingers, he would enjoy spreading her out to take him.

The more he thrust his digits in, the more she failed to stand on her two feet. Slowly, her body seemed to fold over his, melting down and loosing strength in her limbs the more space he took in her. When he inserted a third finger, the moans of pleasure she had tried to keep in grew louder. Her lips could no longer hold the gown in, to busy pushing out sounds each more obscene than the last. Her knees slowly gave out, her legs spreading wider and her juices dripping out more and more with each thrust. And when she was certain to have finally gotten used to whatever he was doing, he started spreading his fingers in rhythm with her moans.

« Oh, Lord, please… Please, oh, oh God… » She moaned, slowly loosing control over her actions.

Nicholas never looked away, too enticed by the sight of her. The more she folded on top of him, the tighter his grip on her became and soon, his moans met hers. Loud breathing muffled only by skin, she could only fall a little more while he kissed her side. His three fingers were drenched and the prince would be lying if he said that he wasn’t jealous of them in that moment. To get bathed in her nectar would be a paradise for him.

Her arms slowly wrapped around his shoulders, using his back as support while her legs shook from his treatment of her. She had completely disregarded her gown which covered her intimacy. It was an interesting position to be in, covered yet bare for his eyes to see and hands to hold.

And while he busied his fingers with her cunt, his tongue focused on roaming her sides from under the gown which now covered his head. His kissed, licked and hit into her ribs, leaving open mouthy kissed and marks of his teeth behind him. It still wasn’t enough, not until Nicholas found her nipples, ready for him to do whatever he pleased. When his tongue grazed over the soft bud of flesh, a yelp left her mouth, and when he started sucking on it, her voice grew louder.

Everything he did, he marked it down in his head, memorizing everything she liked and disliked in the moment. Her pleasure was his only goal at the moment and in life.

Her grip changed and soon her nails were digging into the skin of his back, her walls tightening around him and her sounds louder and louder. His fingers continued at the same speed while his teeth and tongue battled each other for a taste of her tits in his mouth. One was graced with his teeth, bite marks around the areola while the other enjoy his tongue and lips sucking little marks all over. Either way, they both were getting pleasure out of it. Even he, couldn’t deny that his end would come rather quick. As soon as she would cum, he would probably follow, beyond satisfied by the sound of her alone. But the prince did not want to let his cum of hers go to waste, already daydreaming of watching it drip out of her.

No, this would all be for her, his cock and his cum would all be for her.

« Hum, my sweet girl… You demanded I take care of the ache between your legs, did you not, princess ? » He expected an answer, enjoying the torment he was causing her. « I’m speaking to you, pretty girl. »

« P-Please… » She pleased instead of speaking up, too aware of how impossible it was for her to repeat such a thing without feeling shame.

Slipping his head out from under her gown, his eyes found hers again, piercing and dark with lust, he was unrelenting with her pussy as much as with his demand.

It was only after he had slowed down, silently threatening to stop if he did not get an answer.

« No, no, no ! Please husband, p-please ! » She cried out, parting her legs and reaching her hand down to push him back in. Despite his grin, she knew he would not let it go and folded. « Yes… Yes, I asked you to make me feel good… »

His face remained neutral until a smile spread again, this time with his teeth, on his face. Without a word, he dove back in, face under her gown. She squirmed in his grip, feeling her end near as it had been described by her maids and feeling the warmth of his breath over her cunt. He kept her stable and stunned before diving in to get a taste and suck in her clit like he had done her tits earlier.

This time with more fervor, his tongue danced over the bud of flesh as she wailed louder and louder from pleasure. He pulled her impossibly close, his forehead buried into her belly while his lips kissed all over her pussy. He kissed it like he kissed her, with desire unrivaled by even the loneliest of beasts. Nicholas showed her clit just as much love as he has shown her when he kissed her. He kept fucking into her with his fingers, more and more enthusiast as her fingers moved from his back to his hair, running through his blondish locks and pulling at the root. She moved in synch with him, bouncing on his fingers like a woman starved of her release until she came loud and hard all over his fingers.

« Yes, yes, yes ! Oh, God, more, please more ! » She screamed as she crumbled over him.

He kept pushing into her, deeper and deeper while she tried to process her first orgasm. Her hips kept moving up and down, following his rhythm and slowing down slowly. She was left panting and sweating, her cum dripping along his forearm. Never had she felt like this before, all thoughts and words escaping her but his name remaining. And she looked so magnificent above him, he could’ve died a happy man in that moment. If he wasn’t a selfish one before anything he would’ve been content with this, but Nicholas was selfish and he needed to feel her cunt squeeze around him like it had squeezed his fingers.

Hiking her leg up and draping it over his shoulder, he pulled his digits out before diving in mouth first to suck in her swollen folds and droplets of cum. More than being selfish, he was also greedy and that greed burnt the delicious taste of her in his mind. Never had he been so desperate for a woman. He wanted her spread in his sheets for life, taking over his space like she did his heart.

He kept devouring her pussy while she trembled, too sensitive to handle more of his treatment of her. The prince looked up with desire, admiring the state he had left her in. He needed to see more.

Detaching his lips from her with great dissatisfaction, he rose to his full height, taking her with him and lifting her up before taking a could of steps and dropping her onto the bed. Not even a second had gone before he kneeled onto the bed and grabbed her gown by the top before ripping it apart.

« Nicholas ! » she screamed. It amused him and he apologized with a kiss to her forehead.

« I’ll have a hundred more made of the finest silks for you. Not that you will need them much in the future. »

He pulled whatever was left of the gown and his own robe, tossing them out into a corner of the room. His eyes scanned her body from top to bottom, painting down the picture of her in that state. Oh how he wished to have his mouth back on her cunt at the moment, drinking in her taste and enjoying the sounds of pleasure she produced. Instead, he satisfied himself with his fingers, sucking on all three as he took his cock in hand and stroke along the shaft. His balls were tight and full, he could feel them ready to burst from the sight of her alone. Even now, drops of cum leaked out of his slit to coat the veins running all along his member. His movements were slow and sensual, his tongue lapping up all over his fingers before licking down his arm to swallow all that had poured on him. How good did she taste, his princess, his wife. So sweet and sensitive, he couldn’t keep fucking into his hand when knew that the only thing that could provide him with the pleasure he needed at the moment was her.

She’d been watching this whole time, panting and aching even more for his cock to push inside her and make her his in the eyes of traditions. She could see it glistening with pleasure, pulsating and she wanted nothing more than to taste it the way he had tasted her. Everything about his anatomy was so new and yet, she wanted to dive in and discover him intimately. She would demand they stay in that very room and be allowed to discover his wants soon enough, but for now, the night called for more classical things. The pleasure of the flesh and hunger for one another demanded they follow customs.

Nicholas pulled out his fingers from his mouth, coated in his saliva and slipped them into her mouth while his other arm wrapped around her waist to pull her up and have her sit on the sheets. Bare in between the red and golden fabrics, she looked ready to be devoured and just like she would demand, he would get to that later. For now, he pulled her to his chest and grinned wider when she kissed his stomach, pulling out the fingers she’d been sucking to mirror his earlier actions.

For a moment, a veil of tenderness enveloped them both, softness settling between the married couple to awake a need to hold and kiss the other. Her arms wrapped around his torso and her face nuzzled into his chest, kissing whatever she could reach. A small laugh was his response, as well as soft caressed on her shoulders and cheek.

« You’ll get all the time you want to kiss me, my love. Let me do what I need to do, hum ? » He kissed her forehead after she had nodded, again more than satisfied by her obedience. Thought he enjoyed it, he would not lie, following her around and obeying to her every command was more what he liked.

Laying her down flat on the bed, his hands parted her legs to give him more space to move. From that position, he kissed her collarbones while guiding his tip in the direction of her entrance.

« I promise to go as slow and gentle as you want me. Just tap my shoulder if it gets too much, okay ? Speak for me. »

« Okay, the shoulders. Understood. » She repeated, nodding animatedly.

Her eagerness was palpable and truth be told, the apprehension of him nestled within her did made her fidget a little. But the hunger for him to stretch her out to his girth was even more taking. It but at her core and made the earlier ache return with more bite than before.

« Hum… Your grace ? » At the sound of her voice, the prince immediately stopped, looking up at her. « I… I’ve never done anything of this sort before…”

Something in the way she had spoken breathed joy within him. Not only because he was the one she had chosen to be her first but also because she had felt comfortable enough to tell him. The wall they had built around one another had been crashing down in a pile of cement leaving them exposed to the other. And through that both seemed to breath for the first time around the other, finally able to express the truth of their desire.

The lips etched onto her collarbones moved to kiss up her neck before reaching her cheeks and lips again. As soon as his lips met hers, she eagerly reciprocated the act, following after him in search for the taste of his tongue on hers. The tip of his cock had been rubbing along her slit and clit and she couldn’t help but want to see what would follow. Always the dutiful husband, Nicholas was, of course, a greedy man first. His left hand came up to her face to hold her neck tightly and her jaw in place. He pinched at the bone and forced her small mouth open with a smile before sliding his tongue in in concert with his cock sliding into her.

« Oh, God ! » She cried out, suddenly aware of how much bigger he was while inside than in front of her.

Her legs shook slightly, struggling to keep still while her insides were torn apart once again. Despite him stretching her earlier, this would’ve never been enough to prepare her for the girth and length of his cock digging into her canal and stretching her to his side. Tears welled up in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled in pain, it was all too much, too new. She couldn’t breath and should’ve been scared, yet the soft caress of his fingers on her throat grounded her just right.

« Just like earlier, sweetness. Breathe slowly. » He commanded and despite struggling to do so on her own he obeyed.

Slowly, her ragged breaths were replaced by even more ragged breathing but this time out of pleasure and eagerness. The space he took inside her demanded to be expanded and she needed to have a taste of the darkness dancing in his eyes. His eyes, hadn’t moved away from her at any point. Focused on her eyes while he kissed away her thoughts, his tongue and hers danced together, teeth clattering occasionally while drool dropped out of the corner of her mouth.

Neither of them would get over kissing the other anytime soon and it was for the best.

The prince wasn’t sure how long he’d been still within her tight walls, kissing her but he knew that the tight hold she had on him would soon drive him insane. With each hiccup her walls squeezed around him tightly. With each breath, she had him throbbing harder inside her and through all he managed to stay still. Not for much longer though, not when she wrapped her legs tightly against his waist and her arms around his shoulders before pushing her face into his.

« Move, please, Nicholas… » She muttered against his lips and like a soldier ready to attack, his hips started moving. Slowly his pace shifted to go faster and deeper, his cock fucking into her cunt with more and more grit.

Soon the room echoed of the sounds of pleasure she created as well as his grunts of pleasure. Now on her ribcage, his hand rose to her breast to squeeze one in his palm while his other hand laid flat on her back. It slowly lowered to soon reach her ass that he squeezed too, using it as support to keep her close while he bottomed out inside of her.

The princess’ senses were like heightened by pleasure, her ears picking up on the sounds of the bed creaking and banging on the wall harder with each thrust. She could also hear the sounds of his groans and moans, all different and each more obscene. Of course she could hear the way his cock fucked into her warm cunt, his heavy sack slapping against her with more strength.

She could barely form a coherent thought to explain the way she felt and the sensations running around her body. All she knew was that she wanted more and so did he. He couldn’t begin to tell how good it felt to finally be inside her and feel that sweet tightness he had daydreamed for weeks before tonight. She held onto him tighter with each thrust and he knew she felt good, so good even that she pulled at his hair again, this time screaming her pleasure from up close into his willing ear. Like a symphony of pleasure and lust, the prince had never heard any sound as beautiful as her voice crying out to him in pleasure while he dug his cock into her guts.

He was quick to find the spot that would have her falling apart, a bundle of nerves which had her begging for his cock deeper and harder than before. And Prince Nicholas was a good and obedient man, whatever his wife wanted she’d get.

Leaving her lips, his mouth moved with his face to suck on her breast again, licking her nipple before his arms moved to cross behind her. Both his hands took handfuls of her ass before lifting her up and down on his cock. The prince started moving her body in tandem with his thrusts. He couldn’t hold himself together for long, he knew it as soon as he saw her in his room tonight, and his voice was the first tell. Growing louder and louder, the prince lost himself inside his princess.

« F-Fuck… My love… Oh, yes… F-Yes, yes, take it, sweetness… Take me good, my love…Yes ! »

This time it was his turn to leave crescent shaped marks on her flesh, his nails digging into the thick of her ass. She couldn’t compare to anything she’d even seen before but the prince fucked like a man possessed, his pants of pleasure louder than the next each one after the other. Moans and cries could be heard all though the room and even beyond, both knew it.

« M-My… Oh, oh, oh, hum ! » She had tried to speak but his pace accelerated again, his cock going deeper and slamming into a wall of flesh as well as the spot he had reached earlier. “Fuck ! Ah, ah, ah, m-my… My love… S-s-slow down ! »

Her voice trembled of pleasure, the kind that neared on insanity. Now, both her hands were in his hair, finding something to ground herself on amongst the thick curls on his head. Feeling the tip of his cock get even deeper, she looked down to see it through her stomach, a bulge forming on her lower belly. Repeatedly, the large mushroom tip of his dick pushed into her cervix, showing itself to the lovers.

Nicholas’ forehead rested against hers, following her gaze while he bit hi slips to contain himself but failed. There he was, all the way inside her smaller body. He was suddenly way more aware of how small she was in comparison to him, his cock wide enough to make such a visible image inside her. She watched his furrow his eyebrows, almost looking and sounding in pain. He couldn’t handle the events. From the taunting him in her little question to calling him her love. This would kill him. But he would die a happy man.

« Oh… Oh sweet… I-You kill me, sweet love… » He could only say while trying not to look down again. He buried his face in between her breasts to hide from the obscene vision. He would come quickly and so would she, he knew it.

Her breasts bouncing against his skin was pure agony, just like it was our agony to feel her squeeze him as tightly as she was. To reciprocate the « suffering » his hand came down to push her stomach at the place he had been pushing into. She bit her lip to keep in another cry of pleasure that would quickly be replaced by more incoherent screaming while his thumb came down to rub on her clit.

He needed her to cum around him and quickly or he’d go insane. He toyed with her bud of flesh while looking at the way his cock went in and out of her, stretching her out to fit him while he fucked her within an inch of her life. A ring of cum had formed around him, white and thick. That vision alone fed into his need to cum. He needed to see more of this.

« Come for me, sweetness… » He groaned with as much control as he could muster. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while his own crossed, his mouth falling open to let out a string of animalistic grunts and moans. Both synchronized for a moment, her meeting his thrust with her own eager movements while he pushed into her harder and harder until both came in a string of cusses.

She almost felt like she had gone blind for a moment, white light clouding her vision as well as the groundbreaking sensation of her second orgasm raging through her. And if she thought this was it, she was quickly thrown back into that coital state by his cum spurting out of his cock into her warm cunt. The princess felt her husband spread through her and fill up every crevice of her pussy. Warm and thick, she felt his cum dance inside her for the next minutes as they both came down from their end, sweaty and panting.

Both were still moaning, the prince too out of his mind to keep himself from thrusting inside her some more. He didn’t want to pull out, not when she felt so good.

Instead, he chose to rut inside her tight pussy while kissing her jaw and throat. Her own hand caressed the back of his neck while she blinked away the sleep. His kisses were so soft and tender, she couldn’t help but to reciprocate, kissing his ear and into his hair.

« Have I satisfied you, my love ? » He muttered, falling on her. His body was covering the whole of hers as she laughed.

« More than that, my prince… » Her voice was small in that moment, just as sweet as her and filled with unspoken warmth.

He was still panting on top of her, holding her close and basking in the scent of her body enveloping him as she bathed him in tenderness. Both fell asleep slowly, his lips whispering sweet nothings into her ear and kissing her into a well deserved sleep. Through the night they remained connected, holding onto the other and keeping his cum and hers deep inside her.

The next morning, when the maids came up to the Prince’s chamber to notify him of the princess’s disappearance, they were quickly thrown out, all squealing in shame from witnessing her on top of him, bouncing and taking her early pleasure from him without a care in the world. Luckily she hadn’t seen them or even heard, too busy treating herself to a morning ride, but he had and he would not have anyone disturb his wife while she enjoyed herself on him.

As mentioned earlier, she would have him disregard his duties for the day so that she could have a taste of his cock herself and he would gladly oblige in exchange of a taste of her sweet cunt on his tongue.

It became tradition to find her in his chambers or the other way around. She enjoyed being chased by him at the hours of the night in her gown to be carried back to her rightful place in his bedsheets. The knights and the maids knew better than to look. The princess on the prince’s shoulder was for his eyes only. And when both found themselves in her chambers it was due to his need to smell her on him at every turn. More than once he’d sneak in her bath with her and before he could even speak, the maids would scurry out of the room.

When both became king and queen, nothing much changed except now, no room was left untouched, the throne room first to be christened.

Their future would be constructed on foundations of love and intimacy to catch up on the lost time at the beginning of their marriage and that same marriage would be one their descendants would remember as the best to ever be. All it would take was a princess who demanded and a prince who obeyed.

[bluerosefox]

Assassin Heir? Crime Fighting Furry? NOPE NO THANK YOU!

"Danyal, its time to end this game and return with me."

Danny should had known Clockwork had something in mind when he sent him on this mission. He knew he should had been suspicious of the time keeper when he noticed the little 'this is going to be fun' smile on his face when he sent Danny off into the portal.

"Get back here you demon spawn 2.0!"

But how was he supposed to know that he'd wake up in this world version of himself in a pit full of corrupted (AND NASTY) ectoplasim at the tender age of five or that when he swam up to the surface he'd be meeting face to face with what was apparently a cult.

"-O just spotted him a block away! I'll try to cut itty bitty bridie off!"

An Assassins Cult his, new to him, loving yet a little insane mother was in charge of (though during the few months he stayed in the compound he heard rumors and gossip from maids and others alike that if his grandfather returned from the dead he'll take over once again, no doubt punish Talia for creating another heir after the failure of the last one, most likely was going to kill Danny and that... that was can of worms Danny didn't wanna deal with yet)

"Ten bucks says they try to stab RR when we get the feral thing home"

"...Losers bet...."

Danny had lived with his mother for a while after being brought back from the 'dead' for apparently the first time, it turned out training a five year old with an actual sword and a dumbass hidden revenge seeking teacher was a terrible idea.

"I swear if this one tries to murder me like the others I'm asking Zatanna if there is a curse on me."

He dealt with her high demands of perfection, the endless training, and the constant comparisons to his apparent older brother Damain... Who didn't know Danny, or rather Danyal existed.

Nor did his father (when Danny, using his powers he's kept hidden since 'waking' up in this Realm, he sneaked his way around the base and discovered how he came into the world. And tbh he couldn't blame his mom how she made him, she was an assassin first and foremost, being naturally pregnant would had painted a target on her for to long... but he also felt it was unfair and an asshole move on his unsuspecting father as well)

"As your elder brother I demand you to stop running!"

Now don't get him wrong, he did like his new mother (total badass assassin lady and all that) and he knew she loved him in her own... deadly way. But yeah, she really shouldn't be taking care of kids. He could tell she struggled with wanting to be a normal mother but her first instinct after so many years was to be an assassin first.

Something she was trying to engrave into Danny with as well.

"Ah, hello Beloved. I see you've learned of our Danyal."

"Talia. Back away from him and leave Gotham now."

"I can not do that. The League needs an heir and since Damian refuses to return... I have decided to create a new one and I shall not be leaving until he returns with me."

"Talia."

Hence why when Danny, or rather Danyal al Ghul had gotten decent control over his powers he decided to leave the League. Again nothing wrong with the life his mom leads, to each their own, but he... really, really didnt want to be an assassin. Or an assassin heir.

So here he was, after almost a year on the run, using his powers and training to out smart and out maneuver his mother and her many band of Assassins, in Gotham. One of the last places he ever wanted to run to cause he knew his father and brother lived here.

It was just his luck that his mother had managed to intercept his train ride that passed into Gotham for a few hours and forced him to run into the city...

Add her assassins into the mix and running into Robin, who heard from Oracle his mother had been spotted chasing a young boy across the city, that same night.

After that it became a full on "catch me if you can" chase for not only his mother but for the batclan as well.

And after two whole days of chase, it seemed like the final showdown was about to begin because everyone was on top of this rooftop, his mother and her assassins on one side, his father and the batclan on the other and Danny well... he was right in the middle of all of it.

He just had to hope no one would notice him once the fighting started...