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tteokdoroki · 15 days ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent.

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself.

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was.

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too.

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne.

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you.

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon.

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned.

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be.

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you — you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom.

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair.

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free.

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care.

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met.

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily.

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him.

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base.

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds.

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form.

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat.

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you.

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness.

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there.

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls.

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss.

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard. “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him.

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features.

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake?

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display.

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for?

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince.

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.”

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give.

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.”

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling.

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour.

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back.

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit.

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact.

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through.

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other.

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon. “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.”

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit.

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.”

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt.

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!” strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too.

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi smut #bllk thirst #tteokdoroki #blue lock thirst #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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1800-fight-me · 3 months ago

Text

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex! This is literally pure smut.

Word count: About 3.3k

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Author’s note: We were robbed! I can't believe they never showed us Aemond sitting on the Iron Throne or wearing a crown! So anyway I tried to fix it with this fic- please accept my humble offering.

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

It was long after the moon rose and the knocking on your chamber door was loud and insistent. It made you nervous, and as you opened the door your confusion only grew.

A kingsguard stood in your doorway.

“My lady, the Prince Regent requests your presence in the throne room.” He said sternly, making it clear it was more of a demand than a request.

Prince Regent?

Trepidation filled you, but you only nodded demurely and followed his lead.

You flinched as thunder cracked loud enough to hurt your ears. Flashes of lightning lit your way through the halls of the Red Keep as rain poured.

The kingsguard opened the door to the throne room and gestured for you to enter. He did not follow you, only closed the door behind you, sealing you in.

Lightning flashed again and you saw the Prince Regent where he lounged on the iron throne. His long silver hair practically shimmered in the low light, his legs were spread, and his gaze was heart stoppingly intimidating.

Your heart skipped a beat, but for a completely different reason.

“Aemond,” you breathed out, walking forward again so eagerly you nearly tripped over your own feet.

You heard that he and Vhagar had returned to King’s Landing after the battle, but hadn't seen him yet. He looked good, completely himself, not a scratch on him and not a hair out of place. You were so relieved.

He murmured your name too, strong unidentified

emotion behind the syllables.

As you beheld your childhood best friend, he looked the same, but something about him was completely changed. Perhaps it had something to do with the conqueror’s crown that rested upon his brow.

You stopped walking as you reached the bottom of the stairs of the throne.

“What-“

”Aegon was grievously harmed in the battle, I have been named Prince Regent while he heals,” he explained.

You nodded, you had heard the King was hurt.

“And you, are you alright?”

He smiled crookedly and nodded.

You stared up at him, for the first time in your life uncertain about what to say to your childhood companion. The circumstances of this conversation were far different than any other time you spoke to him.

He beckoned you forward, and feeling jittery you

tentatively made your way up the steps of the iron throne.

As you reached him, relief overcame you and you laid your hand on his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’ve returned unharmed. I was so worried for you. I don’t know what I would do if-“

He shushed you gently as he placed a large hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leading you to stand between his spread legs.

You knew that none of this was proper.

“I am here,” he murmured and nuzzled his face into your hand.

Your heart thumped harder as you tried to pull your hand away, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and prevented you, instead running his nose gently across your skin, invoking goosebumps.

He took a deep breath as his nose reached your wrist and let out a soft groan.

Your knees threatened to buckle.

You should pull away. Walk away. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. You were betrothed to another man. He was betrothed to a woman who was not you.

“I thought of nothing but your scent throughout the battle, of returning home to you and smelling you once more,” he said, his voice low and deep, before he pressed his lips to your wrist.

“Aemond,” you protested weakly.

“Claiming you as mine,” he continued, trailing his lips further up your arm, pushing away the fabric in search of your skin.

“It is a sin,” you protested.

About a year ago Queen Alicent caught you and Aemond in a passionate kiss, it was not the first kiss between the two of you, and reprimanded you both sharply. Reminded you both that your maidenhood must remain intact and that developing feelings for one another was folly as it was highly likely you would both be betrothed to others.

Her words were sharp and you took them to heart. You did your best to squash your feelings for Aemond and treat him only as a friend.

But feelings that strong don’t merely disappear… and it seemed Aemond’s desire for you remained as fiery as ever.

“Nothing between you and I could ever be a sin. We were made for each other,” he said urgently, his lips now reaching the skin revealed by your collar as he pulled you even closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“We are betrothed to marry others,” you said even as you whined at the feel of his lips against your throat.

“Fuck that,” he said as he bit down on the most sensitive part of your neck.

Your grip on his shoulder tightened even as you plunged your other hand in his hair at the back of his head and held him closer, tighter, never wanting to be apart from him again.

He chuckled darkly and licked up your throat to your jaw.

“Aemond,” you panted and he pulled back enough to look you in the eye, one hand slipping to caress the side of your face.

“You are mine,” he growled.

You whimpered.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out.

You stared into his violet gaze, overwhelmed by the emotion you beheld.

“And I am yours,” he said.

“And you are mine,” you repeated.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but his lips crashed into yours, and it was like coming up for air. You couldn’t breathe without him, hadn’t been able to breathe properly in a year, and now in his arms with his lips covering yours, your breaths came properly.

He pulled back all too soon, and said, “We will say our vows again on the morrow in the sept. I am Prince Regent now, I sit upon the Iron Throne, no one can deny us. You will be mine for the rest of our lives.”

The crack in your heart that has festered over the last year healed over instantly and you scrambled upon his lap as you kissed him once more.

As your tongue tangled with his and you both gripped one another tighter, as he held you closer than you’d ever been held.

‘Finally, finally, finally’ your heart and soul sang. He let out a cocky chuckle and you realized you’d said the words out loud.

He pulled your legs apart, spreading them as you settled more comfortably on his lap, your dress no longer a barrier between the two of you as his tongue flicked against yours.

Heat ran up your spine as the taste of him filled your mouth, as your blood pounded through your veins, as he somehow managed to pull you even closer- practically crushing you against him.

His hand ran up from your waist, his palm enveloping and gently squeezing your breast, and an erotic moan escaped from your lips, spilling into his mouth.

He pulled your mouth closer, tangling his tongue with yours as he moaned back. His fingers began to tug at the laces of your bodice, and you pulled back with a small gasp.

“Aemond,” you whispered in concern, looking back to make sure you were well and truly alone.

“I ordered them to leave us be and guard the doors. No one will interrupt us,” he reassured as he tugged again at the tie covering your heaving bosom.

Your breasts spilled from your dress as you stared into his eye. You reached around his head and unbuckled the eyepatch, letting it fall to the side, rendering him bare too as the sapphire eye glittered- a reflection of the flashing lightning.

His gaze dropped to your chest, and with hands on your waist he led you to move your hips, grinding down on his hardened length.

Your whimper turned into a gasp as his lips left hot opened mouthed kisses that trailed from the hollow of your throat to your breasts.

As his mouth enveloped your nipple, his tongue swirled on the sensitive bud and you let out a breathy, “Oh!”. You continued to grind down on him, your breaths quickening as heat filled your core.

His thumb flicked your other nipple as he suckled and moaned. The crown on his head slid down on his forehead for the third time, getting in his way and irritating him. He yanked it off his brow and placed it on your head before returning his attention to your breasts.

Your head fell back and you moaned wantonly at the eroticism of the action. His hands yanked at your skirts, rucking them up enough that his long warm fingers met the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.

You shivered at his touch even as a bead of sweat dripped down your spine in the cold throne room.

Never, you’d never been touched in such a way, never been worshiped in such a way, never had the love of your life fully expressed his devotion to you. And when his fingers slipped into your slick and lust swollen cunt, you knew you’d be his until the day you died.

Those fingers teased and rubbed, finding their way to the pinpoint of your pleasure and you gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room.

He hummed in approval, his lips quirking into a smirk as he looked up at you and you yanked on his hair pulling him into another heated kiss.

His finger, that damned finger, swirled around your clit and you bit his lip.

He hissed your name and sunk a finger inside your desperate cunt. This, this was heaven. Fuck the gods and religion, you were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

He slipped another finger inside you, pumping them in and out gently and you moaned as you clenched around those perfect fingers.

“You’re perfect like this,” he groaned and you whined once more at the praise and with the flick of his thumb against your clit you gasped his name.

His breaths came heavier as he watched you near your peak, the pupil in his eye lust blown, and the type of adoration in his gaze you’d always yearned for from him.

Heat coiled in your core, your heartbeat pounded throughout your whole body, and with a moan of his name you came harder than your own fingers had ever brought you.

His lips were on yours, consuming and devouring you hungrily, swallowing the sounds of pleasure from your lips that only he could elicit.

Your desire for him did not diminish, no you needed him somehow even more now. You wiggled your hand between the two of you and ran your hand across his hardened cock.

He moaned into your mouth, and feeling emboldened, you began to attempt to free it from his tight pants. He chuckled, placed a kiss on your jaw and took mercy on you, and assisted you.

You wrapped your hand around his hardened length, trepidation filling you at the size of him, and you looked back up at his face with a shaky breath, suddenly feeling bashful at your lack of experience.

Doubt flickered in your mind, what if you couldn’t please him? What if-

His lips were on yours once again, he kissed you with a steadfastness that reminded you that this was in no way meaningless, this was Aemond - your best friend- expressing his love for you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear as he trailed his lips across your throat. His large hand wrapped around your much smaller one and guided you to wrap your hand around his cock.

You whimpered in desire as he continued to guide you to stroke his throbbing length. He led you to twist your wrist, showed you where to grip tighter, guided you to pump his cock up and down until he was groaning.

He let go of your hand, and you continued to pleasure him, feeling more powerful than ever before as you held the cock of the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, as he again dipped his head and encapsulated your nipple in his warm wet mouth.

You both whimpered in pleasure, and as you ran your other hand through his silver tresses, pulling his head closer into your chest, you felt that there was nothing better in this life than this.

Until he lifted his head once more, his eye wide and filled with love, and you crushed your lips into his.

His hand met yours once more, brushing yours away, and he guided his cock to the entrance of your sopping cunt as you settled your hips over his once more.

Your breaths came heavier as he said, “You are mine.”

“I’m yours,” you responded, nodding and following his guidance as you began to sink your hips down on his throbbing cock.

You winced slightly at the stretch, but he ran a hand up and down your back, pulled you closer to him- your chest crushing against his, and dripped honeyed reassurances in your ear.

”You can fit me, my love. You were made for me,” he said.

Your heart burned for him, and with his grip on your hip you managed to take him completely inside your soaked cunt.

The frantic feeling in both of you eased as you sat on his lap, stuffed full of him, and felt complete in a way you never had before.

Your hands ran across his chest, up his shoulders and down to his biceps, gripping the corded muscle you found everywhere. In tandem, he ran his hands up and down your curves, gripping the flesh he found, until his hands enveloped your ass.

He gripped your ass and led you to shift your hips, grinding down on him in a circular motion. You let out a breathy, “oh!” The feel of him inside of you as you shifted, moving in an erotic way you’d never moved before, threatened to overcome you.

“You are perfect,” he reassured and you clenched down on him, causing you both to moan.

When you were ready, he then guided you to lift your hips up until his cock was almost completely out of your cunt, then you sunk back all the way down, sucking him inside your desperate hole, becoming his in a way that was irreversible.

“Aemond,” you gasped as you repeated the action, continuing to let him guide you. You finally learned how good it felt to be full, to be so full of him you realized how empty and aching for him you’d felt for years.

His grip tight on you, stuffed full of his cock, as his teeth bit down on your neck, you’d never felt so alive- so free.

And so you found a rhythm, bounding up and down on his cock, bringing you both pleasure unlike any other.

With his hands on your hips, your pace quickened, and one of your hands slipped from his shoulder, looking for more leverage and you cut yourself on a blade of the throne.

You yanked your hand back with a gasp, ceasing your motions atop him, and he looked at you wide eyed.

“What is it?” He asked and you placed your hand in his. He surveyed the small cut on your finger, you both realized it was small, barely more than a papercut really, you were lucky, and then he brought your hand to his lips.

You blinked in surprise as he enveloped your finger in his mouth, lips parting and tongue licking the blood off it.

You stared at him in shock for one moment, two, then three…. long enough that his expression became bashful, before you crushed your lips into his, pillaging his mouth with your tongue, desperate to taste yourself inside his mouth.

He moaned as his hand on the back of your neck pulled you closer, and then you were both moving again.

You felt blissful, stretched out in such a wonderful way, and desperate for anything he threw at you.

“Made for me,” he breathed out once again against your lips.

“You’re mine,” you replied as you ground down on him.

He huffed out something between a chuckle and a moan, and with a tight grip of your hips, he said, “I am yours until the day I die.”

He punctuated every word with a sharp thrust inside you, and with that he took control from you. You gave it to him gladly, and held onto his shoulders, tangled your fingers in his hair as he thrust up inside you at a pace that kept you from breathing properly.

There was a spot inside you, that you’d explored before with your fingers, but never once had you felt like this as his cock hit that spot repeatedly. Your toes curled and you whined his name in a high pitched voice you didn’t even recognize as your own.

“For so long I dreamed of what noises I could pull from your lips. Mmmm… the real thing is so much better than anything I could have imagined,” he purred in your ear.

Your only possible response was a gasp and clenching on his thick length as your mind had separated from your body, there was only him and the pleasure his body provided yours.

His muttered words in high valyrian, sweet promises of devotion as he continued to fill you. He filled your body, your heart, your soul, and the only expression of devotion you could return was to come on his cock.

With a moan and a squelch you gushed around him and he gasped, holding you tighter, somehow increasing his pace- the intensity of his thrusts as he followed you over the edge.

With one final push inside your cunt, he climaxed inside you, filling you with his come, and it was all you could do to kiss him, sloppily and desperate, as he marked you as his.

You rested your head in his shoulder, breathing him in as you both came down and attempted to slow your heart rates.

He tattooed his name against your being as he pressed his lips to any bare skin he could reach.

“I love you,” you whispered, completely baring yourself to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever before, despite your state of undress, despite the fact that he was still inside you.

“I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is, and I will continue to do so until I am ashes in the wind,” he swore, pulling back to meet your gaze.

You could only wrap your arms tighter around him and hold him.

Eventually, he disentangled the two of you, but swatted your hands away as you attempted to retie your bodice.

“I never said I was done with you,” he growled.

A shiver ran down your sweat slicked spine.

You merely let him lead you to stand, watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, then he led you to sit on the iron throne.

“Aemond,” you protested, but he merely shook his head at you, took a step back, and stared at you.

There was desire, possessiveness, and feral satisfaction in his eye as he looked you up and down in your disheveled state that he caused.

You could only imagine how you looked, sprawled on a throne you had no right to sit on, your breasts spilling from your dress, your hair disheveled, and a Targaryen crown crooked utop your head.

But the Prince Regent only kneeled before you.

Any doubts of his allegiance, any doubts in him flew away like feathers in the wind as Aemond Targaryen knelt before you, bowed his silver head, then lifted your skirts and spread your legs.

His groan was drowned out by your loud gasp as he began to feast on you.

Aemond ruined you and made you anew in the throne room that night, and at dawn the next morning he brought you to the sept and made good on his promise to marry you.

Damn the consequences and opinions of others, before all the gods Aemond Targaryen declared his devotion to you above all.��

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader

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inknopewetrust · 4 months ago

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝.

Summary: After days of uncertainty, you catch Aemond in the throne room and envision the future of what power can hold. [Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader] [WC: 2.8k]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), public sex, exhibitionism, overstimulation, enemies to lovers dynamic.

Quick Links: Masterlist | gif by @vizual-demon

“Knee deep in the [throne room] and you’re eating me out… is it casual now?”

“Do you always look so smug after killing your own blood?”

In your shadows, Aemond Targaryen stared at the Iron Throne in the storm.

Thunder eclipsed the skies over the castle. In the late evening, you could feel the shocks of lightning beneath your fingertips as they grazed the columns of marble that flanked the room. Each scream of anger echoed through the stones, you could hear it so clearly.

You could see him in the shadows of the throne.

Aemond Targaryen had returned from battle two days ago.

In those two days, the world had changed drastically compared to the one that it was before. A King incapacitated, a legend buried in the rubble of a fallen house, and two sides burning as bright as the cascading terror above.

The tide was shifting and the power in the halls was striking.

Aemond’s arms hung limp at his sides. For someone so thirsty for the power the room held, his apathetic nature would bury him. He could see the darkness of the swords; twisting and bleeding each person dry for their aspirations.

He wanted to be someone who was remembered.

Aemond Targaryen did not want to be immortalized in history as a weak member of the greatest family to ever exist in this world. In his dreams he saw a man of profound strength and terror—someone who reigned a fearsome government with unyielding standards.

In his cruelty, he wanted people to see a person who would not sacrifice his name for peace.

So yes, he was a bit smug at Rhaenys’ demise and ultimately Aegon’s injury. He would not be in this position now had he not done what was asked of him.

But he didn’t answer you—Aemond did not feel the need to acknowledge it because he knew you understood. Even if you were to be cutting and cynical, Aemond knew you rationalized his beliefs in a similar fashion.

And that enticed him.

You had always enticed him. So simple yet cunning, an outsider amongst the other ladies in your class. You were not a whore, you were not a mother, and yet he wanted to know what it felt like to be a feign of your touch.

How would your hands feel on his body? Your delicate fingers wrapped around him?

“Ah,” you ticked at him, pushing off the stone pillar and moving in his direction. “You see, My Prince, when you allow a dragon’s head to be paraded for the city to see, people are going to notice.”

“Power is power. We needn’t parade it unless it was necessary to remind them who they should bend the knee to.”

“At the ill will of a sacred creature?”

Meleys was once a beautiful dragon. It was such a shame that the second time you were able to witness her beauty it was in the butchered attempt of showing off. The grandstanding sickened the soil.

“It does not take a Targaryen to understand that.”

“What would you know of Targaryen customs?” He spoke back. His voice was thin and dry. “You will never know.”

“I apologize… for my lowly status is not on par with such a great house. I am sure my Lord Father would appreciate the sentiment.”

You have a coy, playful smile that he could feel in his bones. The kind that would chide him, never take him too seriously, and one that rarely doubted him.

It was an uneasy feeling. One he would never quite get used to.

“His ambitions are not unknown. How people without power seek it.”

“Is that not why there are whispers of what you have done?” You questioned and his hands turned to fists quickly. “Small folk talk, Aemond. Power is power but when you misuse it, the omen may come true.”

The omen hovered like the storm above. The God’s were battling in the realm in the sky; giants of proportions unfathomable in their richness of blood. They scorched and rattled in the sky as cracks of thunder rumbled throughout the Keep.

“Yet I speak nothing of it,” he eyed you solemnly. “You talk of rumors and fallacies as if they hold truth. Perhaps it is I who should ask where your loyalties preside? Does war scare you?”

Aemond approached you with long strides. His hands lingered at his sides but never held onto his hilt, threatening you with violence or harm for your disagreements.

He could see you did not fear war. Your father would have called on your return if the prospect of war scared a house with the name of your own. A prominent family in the Vale—to the Greens you were a key.

And he could play you a fiddle if you let him.

“No,” you replied, keeping your head tall. “I live in a gilded tower.”

“That has been infiltrated before. It has seen death before.”

“They do not seek me,” your eyes ran along his face as the sky illuminated his sharp features. “But you know that.”

Aemond hummed and in a moment of faulted want, his right hand reached to brush your own. The electricity of shock pulsing through your veins as though it was as important as blood itself.

You swallowed the nervousness that built in your throat at his actions. He was so sure of himself, so different from the man you had known before.

He took his sins and bathed in them. Aemond let the water dry in confidence of himself as Prince Regent. If he was going to rule in his brother’s stead, he needed the reverie of power to seep inside of him.

“Men will seek anything if they are given the chance.”

You traced the direction of his eyes to your hand, how he ghostly itched to touch you again.

“And what is it that you seek?” You questioned quietly. “Is being a ruler not enough?”

In the lull, your ears filled themselves with the sound of your heartbeat. Pumping and beating to the thrills of anticipation you sought in the sordid walls of an ugly Keep. To please a King, well… It was a dangerous thing.

Aemond’s hand touched yours loosely again. His fingers gently grazed yours with a profound intent that was something he sought.

“No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

His hand bypassed yours and rested lowly on your hip. The touch stilled you. In the darkness of the hall, the world stopped moving and your vision tunneled. His hand moved higher to rest upon the crux of your hip and stomach, thumb caressing the fabric of your dress. He stepped closer.

Without thinking, you took a step back out of the chills that erupted on your skin, not out of want. He took the space you created and closed it again but followed you as you moved backwards and backwards until your back hit one of the marble columns you had hid behind not twenty minutes earlier.

One of your hands caught yourself on the column and the other wove itself around a post. The wings of the throne room were elevated for spectators that were nonexistent now.

Aemond’s other hand mirrored the other and he held you there.

“If someone came looking for you,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side which allowed his eye to narrow. “What would you let them do to you?”

You furrowed your brows yet the feel of his hands burning through your dress allowed your mouth to run dry.

Nothing. You would let them do nothing to you. You would fight to the death to defend yourself but if it were Aemond, you would let him devour you.

“What about me, hm?” There was a faint smile on his lips. “What would you let me, your Prince Regent, do to you while the Gods watched over us?”

His hands slithered up your torso, drawing a staggered breath from you as he cupped your breasts over your dress and groped hard to feel the flesh. Aemond saw your chest stutter under his touch.

“Tell me,” he whispered, pulling his head in close to yours. His lips became a mere centimeter from yours; breath lingering in the space between you heavy and taught.

“I-I-I,” your nerves got the better of you. Stumbling over your words like a dolt, his hands moved back down and began to gather your dress in his hands.

“Poised to stick pins where the plans now lie but a stuttering fool now.”

“I am not a fool,” you huffed as the cool night air began to make itself known against your ankles, then your shins. “I know what I want.”

Aemond leaned in, knocking his nose gently with yours.

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“I want you to touch me,” you instructed him. “I want to feel the mouth of a King on my lips and under the Gods I do sin, but I wish to feel his lips elsewhere.”

“Oh?” Aemond hummed as his hands continued their path. “I may not hold the title of King-”

“You are a King, Aemond,” you said assertively and his hands stopped.

“You rule in the place of Aegon’s incapacity and by all law and rules, you are the one to carry the heavy sword. You speak the actions and see them true.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed at the reality.

Aemond’s power lingered. It lingered in this great hall but it was a shell. The Aemond he felt in his bones was still as scared as the one who killed Lucerys.

“I wish to feel your lips elsewhere,” you whispered, breath fanning his face. He tilted his head upwards and for a split second, his lips touched yours.

Intoxicating; you would have fallen to your knees had you not already wished to see him on his.

“I want to see a King on his knees.”

Aemond could only smirk. He planted a quick, brief kiss on your lips before bunching up the skirt of your dress as he knelt down to the floor. A beckoning, ethereal call from above led him to his knees to worship. With his hands collecting the material of your dress, Aemond’s hands met yours and opened them the best he could for you to grab onto it. He used the leverage of your assistance to bring down your stockings, clear the way of his alter as the thunder roared from above.

You let your head fall back against the pillar as his hands roamed your thighs, inching higher and higher but still skimming past the now unguarded temple.

You could not help but look at the exits in view as though someone would walk through them at this hour.

This late hour when all of the good, pious Lord and Ladies, Prince and Princesses, laid in their beds asleep—sans the King he would never fault himself for burning.

“Aemond,” you spoke with a voice that shook. “What if someone were to see us?”

He stopped his hands, gazing up at you from the ground on which he knelt.

“Let them see then,” he kissed the front of your thighs. “If they see, then I will marry you.”

Fuck. It made your heart leap in your chest. A frog in your throat, the honesty in his eye was enough for your anxieties to settle but your excitement to grow.

He would marry you. What a world you wished you lived in.

If all were true, it would have happened the first time he touched you.

“Drop your dress,” he ordered.

Without hesitation, you dropped the skirt of your dress and he vanished before your eyes.

But you could feel him.

You could feel the breath of his body releasing itself just beyond where you ached for him the most. His grip on your thighs was bruising. Aemond used his position to prop one of your legs on his shoulder, sending you off balance and into the bannister behind you.

But then his hot breath met where you wanted him and the feeling melted you from the inside. Aemond peppered kisses on your mound, waiting until the perfect moment to lick a stripe through your folds and with it, you folded yourself.

Daydreams of his hands on yours was not enough. The feel of your hand in the solitude of night where the sins of pleasure were trapped behind heavy doors could not compare. Aemond attached himself to your flesh and sucked, hard, before lapping again in a more gentle fashion. He repeated it again and again until the wetness began to gather more audibly.

There was no stopping the breathless pants escaping your lips.

You gripped hard on the marbled post. If you were the strongest woman in the Seven Kingdoms, you could have crushed it beneath your fingertips. Aemond’s tongue laded the wetness and gathered it in a lewd slurping noise to your clit only to run his tongue over it in brisk movements.

“Aemond-” you swallowed your moan. Knees threatening to buckle, you wanted to grip onto him. Your hands sought his shoulders, his head or hair, and a soft bed.

The Iron Throne was taunting you in the background. Power so divine, so close yet a million miles away.

Aemond wouldn’t marry you, but in the moment, you would live sinfully until the Gods caught you in truth.

He let out a low hum that made your senses tingle. He too was enjoying the pleasure he could bring, growing his own in his trousers that begged for its own mercy. Aemond could feel you palm at his head from the fabric that fell over his head—a delicacy; the rapture of someone he could love one day if he let himself.

Your helpless want forced you to roll your hips against his face as though his tongue was not enough. Aemond gripped your hips tightly to guide you against his mouth.

“Shit.” The words fell from your lips freely.

“Aemond, I don’t think I will fare much longer,” you admitted to him and felt yourself burn from the inside. His accommodations to your wants, the fluidity of his tongue against you in need was sending you barreling toward the edge.

Your mewls became whines that rivaled the thunder.

In an instant, he removed his mouth from yours and appeared from under your skirts. Your clit throbbed as the blood began to rush downwards and a sickening wetness that was not your finish began to trickle down your leg.

“Wha-”

You could not speak before his lips met yours aggressively. You could taste yourself on his lips and for a second, you wanted to recoil at the thought but his hands cupped the back of your head softly and everything melted into you.

You wished he would marry you.

“I am not done,” he broke the kiss and admitted. “But I could not hold that in any longer.”

His sentiment took you aback. Your eyes searched for a lie; begging for a fallacy to come true and reveal itself in the ugly colors of night but there was nothing. There was nothing but truth and in it, it broke your heart in the slightest.

Aemond wanted to kiss you. He wanted to please you, pleasure you, hold you tightly as a husband would do but he wouldn’t marry you.

He couldn’t marry you.

But he would love you in the depths of darkness as his power soared for a brief moment in time and the hands of a fair lady, opposed by his mother, warmed his bed in the evening. May the throne be his witness, Aemond Targaryen was a sinner.

He kissed you again before falling to his knees once more.

As promised, he worked in quick licks to ignite the spark. It lit up the room brighter than the sky as the Gods boomed in discontent but they worked to drown out the sounds of your elation the closer you became. Aemond let you gather the dress back in your hands so you could see him as his tongue circled your clit and he pierced your cunt with two fingers sliding in the wetness easily. Your legs trembled. His other hand ran soft strokes along the muscle to sooth you but it was fruitless.

His fingers curved inside of you, massaging your walls as they clenched around him and swore to the heavens for a release.

“Fuck, Aemond.”

He enjoyed hearing the words no Queen would dare mutter. It dared him to move faster, to move more heavy against your walls, against your lips as he continued to lap the juices that made the ghosts in the halls look away in a blush.

It was building to a precipice inside of you. As though a volcano was erupting, you let out sounds he had never heard. You were not trying to be quiet. You were letting the castle hear your pleasure that would send you to a horrible fate.

And you begged him to bring you to the end. His name lost its true meaning as it became lost in the night, falling from your lips breathlessly and your eyes shut tightly as the chills in your spin sent you spiraling.

He was no God, but Aemond Targaryen gave what he had as a God should.

“Darling,” he murmured from below. “Let them all see what a King can do.”

And you did.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and thanks for letting me write this little self indulgent fic.

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monstacheol · 24 days ago

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𝔄 𝔊𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞 𝔊𝔬𝔡

ϟ 𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: God! Choi Seungcheol x Mortal afab! Reader

ϟ 𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Your marriage wasn't the one to be envied. Marry to one of the ruthless kings due to an arrangement from your father. Being nothing more than a pawn. And you despise it all.

On the night of drinking and celebrating, you decided to turn in for the night. As you walk into your shared bedroom, you are greeted by a God, but not just any other God. The God of Sky and Thunder. King of Gods himself. Who came with a gift.

ϟ 𝖂𝕮: 8.9K

ϟ 𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: Dom Zeus! Seungcheol, Sub Lady! Mortal Reader, dirty talking, breeding kink, oral (f. & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms and multiple positions, small amount or maybe more manhandling, a bit of praise kink or more, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), crying from pleasure, size kink, choking, your "husband" talking badly about the gods, Pet name: (y/n): darling. (I feel like I miss something but if I am. Let me know)

ϟ 𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙:: @gyuguys @ateez-atiny380 @cumiily @unlikelysublimekryptonite @okiedokrie-main @kyeomiis @black-swan-blog27 @acolytees @parkweylyn @odevote118 @cherricherryy @hamji-hae @missychief1404

ϟ 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: This was kinda of inspired by a post I made and I thought about it and went "Yeah. Let's go for it." I did say that if my last work was good I would write the next prompt. And we're almost or at 800 notes on the last one, so here we are.

As I was writing this, I was a little nervous and kept telling myself that this isn't good and...Maybe it's not but as always, I want to improve myself. So I hope this is good as I tried my best. Not only that, I start school this month so I wanted to leave something before I take a small hiatus. I know, crazy. I literally just started but I need to focus so please enjoy this work I leave to you. Thank you for giving love to the teaser.

Please like, comment, and reblog for support and improvement, and as always. Let's go.

The room was filled with music, cheers, laughter from soldiers and giggles from women, and the smell of hearty food. It was another night in the throne room, where soldiers get drunk off their asses and celebrate while you sit back and watch them. It was disgusting to look at. Seeing how they drink without care. How they act like fools. Stuffing their faces like animals. Their boisterous behavior. It was revolting. The stench of alcohol and sweat filled the air, leaving you feeling sick to your stomach. You did not understand why men behaved this way; it was repulsive.

You heard the sound of "Ahhh" from behind you.

You turn to see the man who was your husband drinking his drink down his throat in one gulp. As he finishes, he raises his cup, shouting a loud cry that makes the soldiers cheer and raise their cups in response.

'Men.'

You shake your head in belief. "Another. Bring out more wine. Tonight, we celebrate our victory!" he declares, his voice booming with excitement. The soldiers erupt in cheers and laughter, the sound echoing through the evening as you roll your eyes at the soldiers' vibrancy. Your husband notices your exasperated expression and he smiles knowingly at you.

"Now, my wife," your husband says, pulling you close to his lap. His hand grips your chiffon dress. Your face twists with disgust as he attempts to kiss you. The taste of alcohol is heavy on his breath. You push him away gently, avoiding his advances. "Don't be so uptight, my love," he slurred, his words vaguely slurred. He grabs the bottle and pours more wine into the cup. "Drink up and join the revelry," your husband said, handing you a cup of wine.

You gently push the drink away and shake your head, declining his offer. "I'd rather not," you respond, annoyed and disappointed by his persistence. "Come now," your husband said before consuming the alcohol in his cup. "Loosen up a bit; enjoy the party," he urged, his voice growing firm. But you stand your ground, refusing to give in to his pressure and maintaining your boundaries.

"No thanks. I refuse to join in such revelry," you declare, firmly holding onto your decision. He sighs in frustration, clearly frustrated with your refusal.

Your "husband" wasn't the ideal man you pictured spending eternity with. The man you loved was kind. A man who said he would do anything for you. A man who said he would move the mountains from Olympus for you if he could.

He was the one man you ever cared for, but fate snatched him away from you as he died in battle, leaving you heartbroken and alone. You prayed for the gods to bring him back, saying you would do anything. But they didn't hear your prayers in the end. For weeks, you felt devastated and hopeless, grieving the death of your true love. A few days later, you were married to another man by arrangement. By a man who was ruthless, greedy, and only saw you as some pretty little trophy to show off to his peers. And that man happened to be your now husband. He appears one day in your land and promises your father victory in the war if he takes you as his wife. Your father approved no less, and my land was victorious, and now you are trapped here.

You did not care for him, your husband. You despised him with every fiber of your being. But you had no choice but to obey and fulfill your duties as his wife despite your husband 's constant disloyalty when he's away for war. You had to learn to accept your current reality and move on. You still thank the gods for giving you strength and tenacity despite having to put up with a man like him and his behavior. As you were lost in your thoughts, you were interrupted by the cheers and conversation of the troops.

"Did you see how we conquered our enemy?"

"They didn't know what hit them."

"Especially how our king slain their leader in a single combat?

"This victory belongs to the gods."

As you listened to the soldiers celebrate, you heard a sudden "HA" from your husband. The soldier stopped conversing as you turned to see your husband set his cup down.

"You thank the pitiful gods. And why should we thank them for our victory? No. Our victory belongs to us. Not those fickle gods who only watch from above. Our strength and determination enabled us to fight and conquer. Our bravery and perseverance ultimately led us to glory on the battlefield. The gods may have observed, but our actions secured victory," your husband said confidently.

You look at him in disbelief. How can he say that? How can he talk so boldly about them like that? You felt discomfort at his blasphemous words.

"You should not say that about the gods."

Your husband glanced at you at your words. "Oh, really," your husband spoke.

Gulping down his wine before continuing, "Share your thoughts, dear. Why should we thank those pathetic gods?" he asked, his tone challenging.

"They have given us everything to help us, and we must express gratitude for their blessings. If it weren't for them, you would not have won. We must honor them and acknowledge them. We should not anger them with our arrogance," you replied firmly.

Your husband's eyes narrowed. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. "We continue to show our gratitude and respect for the gods, for they have guided us through many challenges and obstacles."

Your husband scoffed at your response, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation. "Gratitude. Respect. Those are just words. Tell me, wife: Did Ares lead us to battle? No. Did Athena bless us with wisdom and strategy? No. Did the mighty Zeus himself strike down our enemies? No," he said, gulping down another cup of wine.

"It was I who led us to the battle. It was I who strategized and inspired my troops. It was us who struck down our enemies and emerged victorious." Your husband growled as his men cheered, agreeing unanimously with him.

"You see, our success is the result of our diligent work and perseverance, not some divine intervention," he declared proudly. "We are the masters of our own destiny, not at the mercy of the whims of the gods," he continued, instilling confidence in his men with his powerful words.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your husband talks down to the gods. You were raised to respect and honor the gods. To thank them for everything they did. For the food they provided, for the safe travel home, for wisdom, for health. Everything. Now here he is, talking down to them. And you knew nothing would materialize if you spoke down to them. You felt disappointed at his lack of reverence for the divine forces that also played a part in their triumph. You couldn't understand how he could be so disrespectful to them, and you weren't going to stay there any longer and watch them celebrate.

You stood up from your husband's lap, and your husband looked at you in confusion. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to bed."

Your husband looked puzzled and grabbed your wrist, holding you in place as you tried to pull away. "What? Just because I insulted the gods, you're really going to leave. Don't you think that's too much, dear?" he replied with a hint of frustration.

"No, my husband."

You snatched your wrist away from his grip. "What's too much is that you think I can stay with someone who insulted the gods after they granted us such favors and blessings? I cannot condone such disrespect, even from you." You turned and walked away, leaving your husband to ponder his actions.

You exit the throne room, strolling down the hall to your bedroom, feeling anger and disappointment. How can he not understand? How can a man be so selfish and ignorant? You shake your head in disbelief. As you strolled along, you saw your maid, Sumni, carrying merely a food tray. She looks up to see you and gasps slightly.

"My lady Y/N," your maid Sumni notices you.

Sumni was one of the people you genuinely enjoyed in this kingdom. She was a great listener, very attentive, and very kind. "Is everything okay?" she asks, concern evident in her voice. You pause, debating whether to confront her about your husband's behavior. But you nod your head and reply, "Yes, Sumni. I am fine. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Sumni nodded understandingly. "Would you like me to accompany you to bed?" she asked kindly. You shook your head and declined her offer, thanking her for her concern. Sumni smiled warmly at you before dismissing herself, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You continue your journey to the bedroom. As soon as you arrive at your bedroom door, you push the door open, step inside, and slightly close it. You sigh as your head presses against the frame, exhausted from the day's events.

"Long night!"

You heard a voice behind you. You turned around to see a mysterious man lying on his side across from your bed, a mischievous grin on his face. You felt a jolt of surprise at the man's unexpected presence in your bedroom. "Who are you?" you asked cautiously, your heart racing uncertainly. The man chuckled softly and replied, "I'm just someone who couldn't resist meeting you."

You glanced at the man's appearance. He had a white toga draped over his shoulder and a gold cuff wrapped around one of his biceps, which was exposed. His pec was exposed, while the other was concealed under the toga. His toga was short so that you could see his muscular legs. His eyes were pierced brown, and his smile was charming. His hair was black and wet, and he was breath-taking. The more you look at him, the more you find yourself drawn to his mysterious aura. You were so lost in thought that you heard him laugh.

"What's the matter, darling? Lost in thought?" he asks with a playful smirk.

You shook your head, cleared all your thoughts, and got to the question.

"W-What are you doing here? You are trespassing, and I would appreciate it if you left immediately," you stammer, feeling a mix of fear and fascination at the mysterious stranger in your room. The man chuckles, his grin widening as he replies.

"Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the celebration of your king's victory. As if your husband needed it," the man said.

A small scoff escaped his lips. "That your husband of yours," he continued.

"That man thinks we are not the reason behind his success. He's so power-hungry and incompliant that he can't even get on his knees and thank us after what we've done to make him victorious. I must say I don't think they'll be so happy to hear about that. It's a shame. Really. How ungrateful people can be," the man said with a hint of disappointment.

You listen as this man talks badly about your husband like he knows him. Before you could speak, he continued.

"But you, Lady Y/N."

You froze as the mysterious man said your name.

"You're such a loyal worshipper. You thank the gods for every endeavor and never falter in your devotion. A woman like you should be rewarded," the man expressed.

The way the man in front of you looks at you. It was like he was undressing you with his eyes. His gaze was intense and unwavering. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you tried to maintain your composure.

"W-Who are you?" you said, asking again.

The man smirked at my question.

"I am known by many names. Zojz. Tinia. Jupiter. Zeus. But," the man said as he slowly rose from your bed, full of confidence, "you can call me Seungcheol."

Your eyes widen in shock as you realize the man's true identity. "M-My... God," you stammer, feeling two emotions at once: fear and awe wash over you. You instantly fall to the floor, bowing. "Please forgive me for any disrespect I may have shown," you say, bowing your head in reverence.

Seungcheol chuckled softly, his grin widening at your reaction. A loyal follower, he thought to himself. He slowly approached you as you kowtowed before him, his presence towering over you. "Rise," he commanded gently, offering a hand to help you stand. As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but feel an admiration and reverence for the god standing before you.

"There will be no formalities," he said. As you take his hand and stand up, Seungcheol's eyes twinkle with amusement. He was taller than you expected, and his presence exuded a sense of power and authority that made you feel equally intimidated and intrigued.

"My god."

You were speechless. You didn't know what to say, and the words hadn't even begun to form. Seungcheol noticed your awe and chuckled softly.

"You seem lost in words right now, darling," Seungcheol said. His deep voice resonated through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was as if he could read your thoughts and emotions with just a glance.

"I- It's just that I didn't expect such a sudden visit," you stammered, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Would you like me to leave?" he asked. You shake your head quickly. "N-No. Please stay. I didn't mean—"

"Don't worry, darling," Seungcheol interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Just teasing you a bit."

His smile was gentle and warm, putting you at ease. He then stepped away from you and trailed around the room. Taking in everything about his surroundings, even looking at the unfinished tapestry mounted on the wall. With a persistent and powerful head, he strolled around.

"Besides, I didn't want to leave without giving you a gift," Seungcheol stated.

A gift... for you...

"W-What kind of gift?" is all you can manage to stammer out of. "A special one," he answered.

"How special is the gift?" you asked, curious. Seungcheol finally stopped walking and turned back to you with a mysterious glint in his eyes, making your heart race with anticipation.

"What if I told you that your gift, your special little gift, was something that I wanted to show you? To thank you for showing such admiration for me." Seungcheol responded with a mischievous smile. Your mind raced with possibilities as you waited for him to reveal the surprise he had in store for you.

"What if I said your gift was me? Would you believe me?" Seungcheol's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he waited for your response.

"Y-you, my god," you stammered out, feeling a rush of emotions at his unexpected revelation. Seungcheol nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You have been such a loyal follower. Why not reward you for your dedication? Besides, I think you deserve it," he declared as his eyes never left yours.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Him. Your god. Offering himself. To you. As a gift. It left you speechless and overwhelmed with emotions. You couldn't. You didn't know what to say. Minutes ago, you were in the throne room with your husband and his soldiers, and now you're here with Seungcheol, your god, offering himself to you as a reward for your loyalty. The weight of his offer combined with the intensity of his gaze left you breathless and unsure of how to respond.

"My god."

"Seungcheol," he interrupted, his smile widening.

"Seungcheol. I-I couldn't conceivably accept such an offer," you stammered, turning around.

This was so much to process right now. You. You simply couldn't accept it, even though it was tempting. Even if you were completely captivated by him. You couldn't accept it. You just couldn't. The internal struggles were overwhelming as you were torn between your desire and your duty. The conflict within you was palpable, but you knew you had to answer.

You were so lost in your thoughts. You didn't even hear him coming behind you as you turned around and found him standing right before you. Frightened, you took a step back, and your back hit the wall behind you as he trapped you with his arms on either side of your head as he towered over you. Your breath quickened as you met his intense gaze.

"Why not?" Seungcheol softly asked.

His hand moved down to cup your cheek; his touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don't you want it? I mean, you've been such a good girl. Don't you want to be rewarded? For being such," Seungcheol said as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Loyal."

Another is placed on the bridge of the nose.

"Good."

Then your cheek. Then he trails down your neck, and your breath is caught in your throat as he pauses right there, teasing you with his lips hovering just above your collarbone.

"Girl."

It's then that he presses his lips against your collarbone, sending a wave of desire through your body. Suddenly, he trailed kisses up your neck, each setting off a fire within you. The sensation of his lips on your skin was electrifying, and every kiss he placed made your body ache, leaving a trail of heat in its wake and your pussy clenching around nothing. As he made his way up, he pulled away slightly, his lips ghosting over your ear, and whispered, "So... will you accept this gift of mine? This gift from a god?" His voice was low and seductive.

Both of you stared at each other. His gaze was intense, making your heart race. It was then that you stopped fighting. You stopped fighting the pull of attraction between you two and gave in to the overwhelming desire as you nodded slowly. "Ah. Ah. I need words, darling," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

Your breath comes short as you gather the courage to respond. "Yes," you utter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol's smile widens, revealing a hint of satisfaction before his eyes glance down at your lips. Your heart pounded as he leaned in close. Is this happening right now? Is this really happening? You close your eyes anticipating a kiss, but he stops just inches from your lips. And he made a small 'hmm' sound. A slight flutter of your eyes opens your eyes to see that mischievous smile playing on his lips. Pulling away, he walked away as you stood there watching him as your heart raced. He walked toward the bed as he sat down, his legs spread. He slowly reached his hand out. "Come here," he commanded.

There is a slight gulp in your throat. Nervous. You slowly walked toward him. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest with every step you took. As soon as you reached him, you nervously touched his outstretched palm. He smiled softly before tugging you onto his lap, inducing a gasp from you softly. His grip was tight and possessive. Your heart pounded faster than it had before, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pulled you closer. The tension in the room was palpable. Anticipation hangs heavy in the air. "Now," he suddenly spoke.

Seungcheol's eyes bore into yours, innocent as ever. "Give your god a kiss," he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

You hesitated for a moment. You bite your lips as you look at his plump lips, nervous. Your palms were even sweating. Slowly you lean in to give him what he wants, but then he softly leans back, avoiding you. You tried again, and he avoided you again, backing away. Every time you tried to approach him, Seungcheol avoided you repeatedly, just to purposely tease you.

You pull back, whining and pouting at his playful taunts, and he chuckles at your reaction as he enjoys the power he has over you. Suddenly Seungcheol's hand flew to the back of your neck, pulling in and smashing his lips against yours. Leaving you clinging to his shoulder, bracing yourself. The kiss was demanding and intense, making your head spin with desire. As if he were trying to consume you whole.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, bracing yourself for the overwhelming sensation of his kiss, releasing a soft moan of pleasure. Your heart raced as you surrendered to his dominance. His tongue expertly explored your mouth, creating an electric spark within you.

He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath. You could still feel the lingering heat of his touch on your lips and the surge of heat between your legs, which left you yearning for more. Seungcheol looks at you with dark eyes as a smirk plays on his lips. He saw your expression. That expression that is full of bliss and desire. Seeing you like this in this moment makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs huskily.

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands wandering over your body with possessive intent. Your breath hitched as you eagerly responded to his touch, completely under his spell. Then he flipped position as he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he deepened the kiss. You melted into his embrace. With each kiss and each caress, you descended deeper into the abyss of desire he had engendered. He pulls away slightly to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. His lips leave a trail of fire in their wake. You let out a soft moan, craving more of his touch. His teeth graze lightly on your skin as he leans in and bites down on your neck as your back arches in pleasure, pulling him in closer.

His lips turned into a slight smirk on your neck as he knew he had got you where he wanted you. Now Seungcheol has been watching you. Hearing you. He hears many prayers now and then coming from the temple, but yours. Your prayer was the one he anticipated the most. Oh, how you praise them. How you thank the gods. How you take what they give and never waste a single blessing, especially when his name falls on your lips. The way it falls off your tongue sounds like sweet music to his ears. He cannot deny that your devotion intrigues him. You intrigue him.

So he had to meet you. He had to see the person behind the prayers and accolades, but he had to be patient; his patience could only wear so thin as he continued to watch you from the sky above. But now that he has got you like this, under his spell. Grasping, panting, and moaning in pleasure underneath him like this. Seungcheol was completely ecstatic right now.

He licks over the bite mark he places on your neck, savoring the taste of your flesh before moving back to your lips to capture your lips in another kiss. Hands roam over your chiffon dress, feeling every curve and dip in your body beneath the fabric. He pulled away slightly, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Let's take this off."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Seungcheol slowly pulls the hems of your dress upward, exposing more and more of your skin as he goes as he looks with hungry eyes. As the dress finally slipped over your head, his gaze darkened with desire as he saw you lying there before him. My, did you look breathtaking? From your tousled hair to your gorgeous face to how your skin glowed in the dim light to your gorgeous curves. It was like the goddess, Aphrodite herself, had craved you into existence just for him. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

"S-Seungcheol," you stammered, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks as his intense gaze lingered on you. The growl that he held back when you spoke his name.

You couldn't help but feel nervous about how intensely he was staring at you. You tried to cover yourself, but his hand shot out to stop you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Why are you covering yourself?" he asked softly.

"I-I."

"Why are you covering such a beautiful sight like this?" he whispered, his voice filled with admiration. Seungcheol pinned your hands above your head as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't you dare hide from me," he warned, his eyes dark with desire.

You softly gasp at his words at his command. His eyes look at you up and down. "Or," he started.

"Or," you repeat in a shaky voice.

"Or... are you just shy, Y/N?" he taunted.

You didn't say anything, but your red cheeks said it all. A chuckle escaped his lips. "My, what a shy darling I appear to have tonight," he murmured, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "But don't worry, I'll make sure you're not shy for long."

His free hand trailed to your breast and caressed it gently. Your skin felt so soft under his touch, and you couldn't help but exhale. He smirked at your sudden reaction. Then his hand trailed down to your underwear, feeling the wet patch forming there.

"You're so wet. Did all of that kissing get you excited?" he teased.

You struggled to answer as he rubbed his thumb over the damp fabric, causing you to whine and leak out more slick. You squirm under his touch. "Answer me, darling. Tell me, did it?" Your mouth opens, letting out a breathless "yes" before he leans in and presses his lips against yours, deepening the kiss, swallowing your moan as his fingers continue to tease you. Without breaking the kiss, he slowly slides your underwear off, exposing your most intimate parts.

Seungcheol moves off your body to kneel at the foot of the bed. Seungcheol grabs your legs, pulling you over the edge of the bed, causing you to yelp. He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet core, his gaze smoldering with hunger. He spread your folds with his fingers, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. The way your arousal glistened in the dim light made his desire grow even more intense. You look down at him, your chest rising and descending in anticipation. "Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the heated moment.

Oh, the way you plead for him. The way you beg him to devour you. So he did. Without hesitation, he dove in, devouring you with passion. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut as your hand tugs at his hair. The tug caused him to groan into your cunt, adding vibration. The way your arousal tasted on his tongue. It was intoxicating. It was so good. It was so delicious. It was so... addictive. With a delighted sneer on his lips, he withdrew for a while before whispering, "Fuuck. You taste divine," and then he dove back in.

The sensation of his tongue and lips on your sensitive areas sends shivers down your spine, making you arch your back in pleasure. The way he ate you out. It was different. It was something you had never experienced before. He ate you like a man who had been deprived of a feast for far too long, savoring every moment of it. And he didn't want to stop until you were completely spent and trembling beneath him.

"I just can't get enough of you. You taste so good. So sweet," he murmurs before diving back in as he continues to lap and slurp at your dripping wet core, determined to make you lose control completely. You arch your back in pleasure and moan his name, feeling the intensity build with each flick of his tongue.

His tongue moved to your entrance and inserted his tongue inside as his nose nuzzled against your clit. "Seungcheol," you moan breathlessly, feeling the pleasure intensify with each movement of his skilled tongue.

"Feel good?" Seungcheol whispers huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "Yes. So good," you whisper back, completely lost in the sensations he's giving you. Your answer pleased him. His tongue expertly flicked and probed, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned in pleasure.

He went back to your sensitive nub and sucked on it gently, making you gasp and squirm with pleasure. His tongue expertly flicked and probed, sending shivers down your spine as you moaned in pleasure. You begin to feel a wave of pleasure building up deep within you, ready to crash over you. "Seungcheol. Please. "No," you begged as you shut your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Look at me. Look at me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. You locked eyes with him, feeling the intensity of his gaze as he continued to titillate you with his mouth.

"Look at me as you cum all over my face," he growled, the sound sending a jolt of desire through you.

With his eyes never leaving yours, he increases the pressure and speed of his movements, bringing you closer and closer to the brink until eventually, you explode in a mind-blowing orgasm that leaves you breathless and completely satisfied. You lay there panting, out of breath. He gave one final lick, letting a whine out of you before pulling away, a satisfied grin on his lips. He wipes the last of your essence with his thumb before licking it off, enjoying the taste of your release, watching you rest in the afterglow of your orgasm.

It took you some time to gather yourself as you lay on the bed, deeply absorbed in thought. You feel trails of kisses coursing up your body, causing shivers to run down your spine as you bask in your post-orgasmic bliss. Seungcheol pulls away from your body to undress himself. Finally removing the toga from his body, revealing his naked form.

"Shouldn't I get a reward as well?" Seungcheol grinned.

You sat up slowly as you looked at his naked form. His body was a work of art, every muscle defined and his skin glowing in the soft light of the room. Your eyes travel down to see his cock standing at attention. His cock was long and thick. The tip was red and glistening with pre-cum, a clear indication of his arousal. It made your mouth water. You could already feel yourself getting wet just looking at it.

"What's the matter, darling? Never seen a cock like mine before?" He teased, his voice husky with desire.

"It's so big. I don't think it will fit," you whispered.

"Don't worry," Seungcheol said before reaching his hand out and stroking your cheek. "It'll fit," he assured. With that, he kisses your cheek before pulling you up to stand. He sits down on the bed, his legs spread. Cock, hard and ready. "On your knees," he commanded, his tone firm yet gentle. You complied and got down on your knees. You can hear him mutter 'Good girl' under his breath.

The moment you were right there between his legs, you were a vision. His hand lightly cups your chin and tilts your head up towards him, gently stroking your cheek.

"Open," he commends. You obey and open your mouth as he inserts two fingers inside your mouth, stroking the pink muscle with meticulous care, causing you to moan softly.

He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, watching your reaction closely. He could hear you gag slightly as he pushed further, testing your limits. Your eyes watered slightly, but you maintained eye contact with him, eager to please. With a smirk, he removed his fingers, giving you time to catch your breath. Seungcheol leaned back on the bed as you collected your breath, holding himself up by his muscular arms as his gaze never left yours. "Now please your god," he commanded.

You nod your head in recognition. With nervous hands, you grab his cock as you look up at him, a mixture of elation and nerves. You close your eyes and place his cock on your tongue, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum.

"That's it. Good girl," he whispered, his words low and encouraging.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him bite his lips in pleasure. The moment your mouth wraps around the tip, Seungcheol groans and rolls his eyes back, tilting his head back in pleasure as he lets out a deep, guttural moan. The sensation of your warm mouth enveloping him sends waves of ecstasy through his body, making him tremble with desire.

"Fuck, darling. Your mouth feels wonderful." He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your hair, guiding you as you slowly bob your head.

He lets out a low growl of pleasure as you please him. His half-lidded eyes gaze at you with a mixture of desire and adoration, his breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. God, did you look pretty with your mouth around his cock? He couldn't take his eyes away. You look so perfect. The feeling of your tongue swirling around him. The warmth of your mouth accompanied by the wetness of your lips. The feeling of your soft moan around him and the sight of your wide innocent eyes staring up at him only intensified his arousal. He couldn't resist the urge to thrust his hips, wanting to feel more of you while constantly praising you. "You're so fucking good at this," he groaned.

"Look at you. Being such a good girl, treating your god with such reverence. You like pleasing your god?" Seungcheol asked with a smirk, his voice filled with satisfaction. You nodded eagerly, your eyes filled with desire and devotion as you served him with your mouth. "Such a good girl. Such pretty lips wrapped around me," he murmured as he guided your movements. You moan in response as he increases the pace, his words fueling your arousal even more.

His hand took you deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. He uttered a low growl of pleasure. "That's it; take it all. You were made to worship me," he whispered, his hips thrusting with increased urgency and need as he reveled in your worship. Your hand lands on his thighs as you dig your nails into his skin. Drool coming from the corners of your mouth, and tears stream down your cheeks as you try to keep up with his fast pace.

His abdomen tightened as he was getting close. Real close. "Fuck. I'm going to cum so hard in that pretty little mouth of yours," Seungcheol moans, his hips thrust forward as he nears his climax. As you wait for him to release, you can feel his body tighten, his breath catch, and his cock twitch inside your mouth. It doesn't take long before he's spilling himself down your throat, his moans and groans filling the room.

The taste of his cum lingers on your tongue as you swallow. Some spill out of your mouth and drip down your chin. You pull away with a 'pop.' "Fuck," he curses under his breath, his hand running through his damp hair as he tries to catch his breath. "Did I satisfy you, my god?" you inquired. A small chuckle escapes his lips. Oh, how you enticed him. He leans down, grabs your face, and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You melted into the embrace as the kiss became more intense and passionate, losing yourself in the moment. He could taste the lingering taste of his essence on your lips.

Seungcheol pulls away slightly, his lips hovering over yours, and answers your question. "Oh, more than you ever known, darling," he said. His lips returned to yours; the kiss was so passionate and electric. He gently stood you up, beckoning you to straddle his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you deepen the kiss.

He rose, his hands firmly gripping your waist, and kneeled to lay you down gently, never releasing the kiss in the middle of the bed. Your bodies are pressed together in a passionate embrace. He pulls away to lay open-mouth kisses on your neck, leaving marks all over as his hand gently caresses your breast. You never had someone that drove you crazy with a desire like this. His touch was electrifying; it sent a shiver down your spine and left you wanting more. Every touch, every kiss, and every caress made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before. And you wanted more. Your hips buckle against his touch, grinding against his body in a silent plea for more, yet he stops your hips from grinding, keeping you still.

"Seungcheol. Please."

"Patient darling," Seungcheol uttered into your neck. His voice was deep and soothing. His hand traveled to land on your wet core, and his finger began to rub tiny circle on your clit causing you to gasp.

"I need to prep you. We don't want it to hurt, do we?" He continued, his touch gentle yet firm. His hand spreads your folds apart to expose your entrance. His fingers slowly enter you, stretching you in a way that makes you moan with pleasure. "Just relax," he whispered before kissing your cheek. His slow and deliberate movements ensured you were ready for what was to come.

Then he added a second finger, increasing both pressure and intensity. The sensation of being filled and stretched by him made you arch your back in pleasure.

"That's it. That's my good girl. You're so warm," he whispers.

His mouth soon wrapped around your nipple as he scissors you open. You couldn't stop the moan from escaping. "You're doing so well," he whispers, his voice filled with admiration and desire. The mix of his sucking and biting on your breast to his finger massaging your walls made you feel close to the edge of losing control. His touch drove you insane. And when he curled his finger, touching that spongy spot, you couldn't help but moan loudly in pleasure. "There. Right there."

Letting your breast go with a pop, he murmurs, "Hm. There." His movements intensify as he focuses on that sensitive area. You nod your head, encouraging him to keep going. He smiles and increases the pressure before attacking the other breast with the same frequency. Your body arches towards him, unable to contain the emotions coursing through you.

"Look how well you take my fingers inside that tight little pussy of yours. You're doing good for me," he growls, his voice low and husky. Your moans increased as his fingers moved so rapidly that you could barely keep up with the overwhelming pleasure. Your mind had gone blank. You didn't hear anything but the sound of your own ragged gasps, the pounding of your heart in your ears, and the squelching sound of your wetness as he continued to please you.

It was so intense that you felt your whole body tremble. Every never-ending was on fire as he plowed into and out of your cunt. As he continued, you could feel the tension building up inside you, ready to explode at any moment. Your breathing quicken. Your heart raced as you were on the edge. On the edge of pure pleasure

"S- Cheol. Close," you gasp out, feeling the heat pooling in your core. His movements become more urgent, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Oh. You gonna cum again. Go ahead, darling. Cum. Cum on my fingers," he encouraged. Your breath was ragged, and your moan was loud as you finally reached your peak, intense pleasure washing over you in waves. Seungcheol's fingers continued their relentless pace, prolonging your climax until you were left trembling and spent. His movement slows down as he watches you come down from your high.

"Good girl," he praises you with a smirk as his fingers slowly withdraw from your sensitive core. You whimper as Seungcheol lightly taps your oversensitive clit a few times before slipping his wet fingers into his mouth and tasting the remnants of your desire. He moans at the delicious flavor.

"I can't get enough of you," he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire as he leans in to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips only heightens your arousal, and you eagerly respond to his hungry kisses. He shifts himself between your legs, grinding into you as his cock presses against your slick fold.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and slowly stroked it before placing it on your entrance, collecting all of your wetness as he teased you with the tip. "Ready," he whispers huskily. You nod your head.

"Please," you beg, arching your hips towards him, desperate for him to fill you. He obliges, slowly entering you with a groan of pleasure, causing you to gasp at the feeling of fullness. And god, was he big? He was practically splitting you open with every push he made. You never knew you could be this full. Just as you took him all the way in, you felt like absolute heaven.

"Damn, darling. You feel so incredible," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

You cling to him, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He look at you, asking for permission to move and you granted it. He began to move in a slow and deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could not help moaning in ecstasy, totally absorbed in the sensation of being conquered by him. It was a feeling that you had never experienced before. It was intoxicating and overwhelming in all the right ways. Seungcheol grated at your facial expression. You look beautiful, he thought inwardly. The way your face twisted in pleasure. The way your body moves with every thrust. The way you look underneath right now. It only fuels his desire to give you more.

So his hands grabbed your hips and plunged deeper, setting a fast pace that had you gasping for breath. The intensity of his movements matched the passion in his gaze, making you feel desired and cherished in a way that left you craving more.

"Such a good girl. Taking me in so deep," he praises, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he sets a rhythm that has you seeing stars. Your body responds eagerly to his every movement, increasing the intensity with each thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming, making you lose yourself in the moment. He lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder, opening you up even further and allowing him to penetrate even deeper. The sensation of him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you sends waves of ecstasy through your body, making you arch your back and moan uncontrollably.

"Feel good, darling," he said, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes. So good."

He smirked at your response, knowing he was driving you wild with pleasure. "Really?"

He asks teasingly, his eyes dark with lust as he proceeds to move with deliberate precision.

"I-Is-."

You started.

"Is. What is it? Come on, tell me, darling," he urged, his fingers gripping your hips firmly as he quickened his pace. The moment's intensity was overwhelming, making it difficult for you to form coherent words as you surrendered to the pleasure coursing through your body.

"I-Is. Is it good for you, my god?" You finally stammered out, your voice barely audible over your ragged breaths. He released a low, guttural groan before murmuring, "It's more than good, darling."

His movement slows down as he leans over to you, his lips hover over yours, his forehead pressing against each other, and his eyes gaze into yours as he slowly grinds into you.

"You feel so amazing around me," he whispers before his lips press against yours in a passionate kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your entire being.

Pulling away from the kiss, he took hold of your waist and plunged into you with the same rhythm but more rough and strenuous, leaving you gasping for air. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear; you can practically feel tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. But you welcomed it with open arms, craving the raw connection and overwhelming pleasure he brought to you.

Your body moves in complete harmony as his thrusts intensify. You were lost in the bliss of the moment. And just when your stomach began to tighten, just when you felt yourself being tipped over the edge again, he pulled out, leaving you empty. You whimpered in protest, but he flipped you over onto your stomach. Putting you on your hands and knees. His hand grips your hip tightly and enters you from behind, his movements rough and primal. You couldn't help but scream as you pressed your face against the sheets. Your back perfectly arched. The change in position only heightened the intensity of the moment, leaving you breathless, and his movements became even more intense and passionate.

"Oh god," you gasp, gripping the sheet underneath you, feeling every inch of him inside you. The sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room, your moans blending with his growls as he thrusts harder and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so perfect. Sucking me in like this," he grunts, his voice husky with desire, his eyes rolling back in his head as he loses himself in the pleasure of the moment.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming more intense and desperate. The tears that you held back, you finally let flow down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat that coated your skin. You can't deny it. You were in bliss. Completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure. And every time he pulled out, you pulled him back in, craving more of his touch. You were addicted to him, and he was addicted to you.

Seungcheol hovers over you as his chest presses against your back. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, tightening his grip as he pounded into you with relentless force. You moaned, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. You could feel his breath on your skin as he spoke in your ear.

"Tell me, my dear. Who is making you feel this good?" Seungcheol whispers, his voice deep and commanding. You can't help but moan softly in response, feeling completely consumed by him in that moment.

"Y-you are," your stammering manages to enunciate.

"Louder," he demanded.

His hand squeezed your throat, and you gasped.

"Who is pleasing you like this?" he asks, his grip tightening slightly. Your body shivers in response to his commanding tone, feeling a rush of excitement as you surrender completely to him. "You are," you finally gasp out, your voice filled with desire and need.

"More. Who is making you scream like this? Come on. Tell me. Who?" he growls, his eyes dark with desire. His grip on your throat tightens even more, sending a jolt of pleasure. You feel a surge of arousal at his dominance, unable to resist his commanding presence. "You are. You are," you chant in a breathless whisper, your body trembling with anticipation. "Only you."

"That's right. Me. All me. Not that pathetic excuse of a man you call your husband. Me. It is I who is pleasing you. It is I who is making you feel utter bliss. It is I who is making you scream for all of Olympus to hear. And it is I who's going to fill your cunt with so much of my seed that you'll be swollen with my child," Seungcheol finished, his voice dark and possessive.

Your heart races as his words send chills down your spine. The intensity of his desire overwhelms you. You can't help but surrender to the power he holds over you. His dominant presence left you breathless, and his words ignited a fire within you that you couldn't resist.

"C-Cheol," you moan, your voice barely audible.

"That's right. Say my name. Scream it if you have to. Let the whole kingdom hear. You are mine," he growls, his grip on your neck loosening as your body drops on the bed. Pulling away, his hands grip your hips as he plunges into you with primal intensity.

Your moan turned into screams of pleasure as you felt the tension rising within you once again. You knew you couldn't hold back for much longer.

"I c-ca.. so close," you whisper, feeling the heat building in your core as Cheol's movements become more urgent and desperate. Your body trembles with anticipation, on the brink of ecstasy, as you give in to the overwhelming pleasure he's providing.

"Huh. You're close. Go ahead. I can feel you squeezing around my cock. Go on. Cum on this cock. Cream all over me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. You feel yourself shatter under his touch, the world fading away as you reach your peak, crying out his name in a final release of pleasure.

You were pulsating with a mixture of pleasure and relief, your body still trembling as you came down from the intense high he had brought you to. But, oh, he was far from done with you yet. Seungcheol flipped you over on your back. Cock still lodge into you. He grabs your legs and pins them close to your chest as he bends forward and puts you in a mating press, thrusting deep and hard. And you scream in pleasure as your arm wraps around his neck, listening to the squelching wet noise coming from your abused hole. Your body quivers at the force of his movements. This position has Seungcheol in deeper than before.

"S-Seungcheol. So deep. Oh so good," you gasp out between moans, feeling every inch of him inside you. Your hands clutch his back, your nails digging into his skin as he plunges into you with increasing intensity.

"You like how I please you? You like how I reward you? Hmm. Fuck, this pussy is so good.Make me want to bring you back with me. Is that what you want? To take you to Olympus. Have you warm my bed and be treated like a queen and be bred by me again and again?" Seungcheol whispers in your ear as he continues to plunge into you relentlessly.

"Yes," you screamed. "Yes, I love it. I love it so much. I want it. I want it so badly. You fuck me so good, Seungcheol," you moan.

So does he. He wants it so… bad. The thought of you on Olympus with him in his arms, being treated like royalty, and experiencing pleasure beyond imagination drives him wild. He can't resist the temptation to have you by his side. To take you away from this kingdom. To make you his own forever.

"Please. Please make me yours. Fill me with your seed. Fill me up, my God," you beg, your voice resounding with desperation and desire.

Your words fuel his desire as he pulls away, spreading your legs apart to take hold of your waist. He slightly raises your body and picks up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper into you. You felt a wave of pleasure overtake you as he ravaged you. Soon that tension started to build up again. You call out his name, begging for release. He groans in response, feeling on edge himself.

"Fuck. I'm close. Are you ready? Ready for your gift? Make sure you don't waste a single drop. Cum. Cum with me," he growls, his voice low and husky with lust. You nod eagerly. Your hand grips the sheets tightly, and your body perfectly sync with his, meeting each thrust with equal enthusiasm.

And with a final thrust, you both came together as he released his hot seed inside you, filling you up with a sense of completion and satisfaction. Your bodies trembled with the aftermath of your shared climax, leaving you both breathless and spent in each other's arms. You couldn't hear anything but the sound of your own heart pounding. Suddenly, Seungcheol pulled out, making you whimper slowly. He noticed that his cum was slowly leaking out of your hole, so he scooped up the remaining and pushed it back inside you with his fingers, causing you to gasp. His fingers massage your sensitive walls before he pulls them out gently as he goes to your stomach, caressing it softly and looking at it fondly.

"There, darling. Your gift. And soon this gift will blossom into something truly miraculous. So they can be loved, nurtured, and cherished. You will give them your love and support, and I will guide them to be the best. You will take care of my gift, won't you?" Seungcheol said as he looked up at you, still stroking your stomach.

"Yes, I will," you replied.

"Good, and if anyone harms them," he said with a dangerous glint, "I will make sure they regret it."

You nod your head at his words. "Good girl," he commented.

His hand caressed your cheek tenderly. "I cannot wait to see our gift grow," he said, his voice filled with antiradiation.

"May our child have my eyes and your looks," you said. Seungcheol heard your response and chuckled casually.

"Yes," he said, reaching out to push back the locks. He leans in and presses his forehead against yours and whispers,

"May our child have your wisdom and my strength."

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kittenscookie · 17 days ago

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Currently thinking of omegaverse epic Au where Omega Odysseus is constantly fighting off his alpha suitors. My thought process is Penelope's a beta and it's common for omega kings to take a second spouse that can...well you get the picture. Anyway one day he's just trying to enjoy himself at the beach (skinny dipping in the tides) when a few of the suitors pull up like "Heeeeeeey~". So Odysseus finally snaps and says something along the lines of "The only alpha who could be worthy of an omega such as myself would be Poseidon!"

"Oh really~?"

Thunder rumbles above them, they all look up, and there sits Zeus on his throne of women shaped clouds (did I watch Neil Illustrators God Games animatic earlier, maybe). Looking smug and putting on his best bedroom eyes,

"What about Zeus, king of the gods~?"

Odysseus considers it for like 0.5 seconds, before swallowing nervously and essentially saying "I said what I said". Zeus is completely taken aback, absolutely dumbstruck as Poseidon finally busts from the sea, grabs Odysseus by the hips and basically goes "HA! Now fuck off jackass he's mine!"

#Apollo freezes while watering a patch of hyacinth #Hyacinthus: “What's wrong babe?”#Apollo: “I don't know...Cold dread just washed over me along with a really fucked up sense of deja vu”#Apollo: “Like something awful that I've experienced is about to happen to someone else...”#epic the musical #odysseus #epic #epic poseidon #odysseus epic #epicthemusical #zeus epic #epic zeus #poseidon epic the musical #epic odysseus #I don't think this counts as manwhore au right?#ah fuck it just to be sure #manwhore au #Odysseus x Poseidon

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trulyumai · 5 months ago

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Blinded by the Flame

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Death.

Synopsis: Left bloodied and blinded, Messmer searched. Not for revenge, but for his wife.

A/N: So, this fucking sunflower boss is kicking my ass. Im cooked.

Enjoy the story!

“Ah! Mother, please!” In the middle of the room, sat the legend of the flames.

He balled up in agony, his fingers covered his face— his eyes entirely.

Blood seeped between the crevices of his digits, his eyes burned with an itch, a feeling he wanted to tear out.

“For how could I— your spawn, be subjected to such a monstrosity of an ending?” The man cried out, his deep wails echoed throughout the chambers around his being.

Messmer mumbled incessantly, begging and twitching as his vision blackened.

He had to gain control— before the chaotic numb feeling goes too far, before his mind slips away completely.

Think of the throne

Think of the order

Think of…

“Wife,”

He called out, saliva dripped down in a reddened pace between his lips.

Messmer reached out to nothing, to the blackness that surrounded him.

“Wife!” He wailed

“Don’t— don’t leave me alone!”

The lanky man keeled over, his hands beat against the wooden floor with fury.

“A-Answer me! Your husband— your Lord demands it!”

With a slurred speech, he crawled, began to move toward where he thought the door might be.

His hand met with a stone wall, it stood firm against his blood covered palms.

He couldn’t think- couldn’t remember the size of the room, the chamber at all for that matter.

The pain was piercing his mind, it left fire in its wake.

“Augh—“

The knight continued his mission, persisted onto finding the exit, the way to his home- his love.

Knees now scratched and molded over with scabs, he stopped his movement, as something cold came into contact with his dirtied palm.

Shakily a pale arm reached down once more and with his posture bent, he leered over the object.

It was fleshy, wet with a warming substance and–

“No,”

Firm hands acted, looked for proof that could refuse the perverse thoughts invading his mind.

“No, no, no!”

Shaky fingers guided their way to a hand, it was soft, so small that he could cover it whole with his own.

He came into contact with a cold metal, a band that had been wrapped around the person's finger.

His darling wife’s finger.

“—Ah! No, this— this is a warning- a vision, it's a farce!”

Not bothering to stop the blood from pouring down his chin, it fell atop of the bloodied woman.

Her eyes remained closed, the middle of her person laid into a deep maroon color.

As best as the weakened knight could, the woman was pulled towards him. She rested upon his lap like a deity.

Her head was angled towards him, it sagged into the man’s chest instantly.

He smelled the apples— the Elder flowers that clung onto her stilled skin.

There was no denying, it was his love that lay crumpled in his arms like a wilted lily.

Only his cries were heard through the chamber, bouncing off the walls with ease as his wails got louder and louder.

The cries were wet, uneven hiccups accompanied the tears.

As if nature mourned her loss; thunder boomed, rain seeped down to drench the land and the wind howled beneath the winking stars.

The man’s shoulders shook, he howled— it was too much, too far beneath the golden rays he was promised.

Burying his head into her neck the man refused to move.

His kin could walk through the gates now— with a cure for his blindness yet he would say put.

For his protective reign is over.

Now that his purpose lay still and quiet.

His grip tightened, wide knuckles turned white with pressure.

“Thy will bury it all in flame,”

His voice but a whisper among the pelting rain.

“I will offer it all; and join thee with the heads of the filthy accusers, who dare put thy to rest.”

Biting down on his cheeks, more crimson seeped down with unwanted reign.

“Rest, my wife,” his forehead met with hers, the surface sticky and wet.

“My love will hold me here—“

“—nnnghh,”

Thin red brows raised, with his mouth agape he let out a noise like no other.

“Darling, love, please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but it came out in unseen repetition

Her mind was foggy, vision even more so as her arm raised above her being.

It felt as if daggers pierced through her chest, and needles laid about her arms like unseen birthmarks.

“–mer, Messm—“

“I’m here! Gods, I’m— lovely, hear thy cries, please!”

The voice sounded like it was under rubble, or even perhaps miles of sand and dirt.

She felt the light touches, how they guided their way on her cheeks, her jaw.

It was a loving, soft touch made by roughened hands.

Familiar hands.

Tears struck her bloodied cheeks, a sloppy smile graced her expression.

He hadn’t left her afterall— after the fall, the oncoming of soldiers, he was here, by her side.

Grunting out a low groan, words fled her cut lips in a rush.

The woman’s words slurred together, and the man tried to make sense of them.

“Slow down, my wife, slow—“

“Es, mess, yo— your eyes!”

On queue, the blackened holes throbbed. Dark pits of ash wobbled down the crevices and met the material of his armor.

“Shhh, Darling, it will be alright, it will be alright.”

Her lips shook with a new level of fear, of total shock.

“I will take care of it— mother will help. I— it will be alright.”

“She is the cause of such damnation, how will she help?” Taking her hand in his larger one, Messmer placed kisses upon each finger.

The woman gaped up at him.

“Why are you so calm, aren’t you angry— hurt?”

“I… was,” He replied. Still distracted by the kisses he laid upon her skin.

“But thy are here to calm such a flame, hm?”

The red knight pushed his woman closer, till the cheek of her face mushed against his dirtied armor.

“Let us get fixed, then such a discussion can be demanded.”

Ignoring the woman's constant worried touches, a smile adorned his face.

He wasn't alone, his wife lay huddled between his arms. The unspoken horror lay hushed beneath his heel, stomped and winded.

Although he was blinded, left to die on his own, he could continue his push to the capital.

For the prophecy has already been foretold.

The kingdom will be left in ash; with only his wife and him to huddle in the flames of ambition.

#messmer x reader #messmer the impaler #messmer elden ring #elden ring x you #elden ring x reader #elden ring dlc #Messmer the impaler x reader #video game x reader #Spotify

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benjinotes · 5 months ago

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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - prologue

next.

( benjicot blackwood x daella velaryon )

don’t translate.

Rain pattered against the window of the young princess' chambers, its steady rhythm echoing Daella's growing unease. Seated by the fireplace, the warmth of the flames should have comforted her, yet her mind remained unsettled, thoughts swirling like the storm outside.

The book on her lap had been forgotten for quite some time; the only indication of its existence was her index finger absentmindedly massaging its leather spine.

The crackle of burning logs mingled with the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain outside, creating a slightly foreboding symphony. Daella's gaze shifted from the flames to the window, where raindrops raced across the pane. The Dragonstone Castle, usually bustling with life, now rested eerily quiet under the veil of night.

Suddenly, a strange noise caught her attention. Observing from afar, she saw a crow perched in the window, its black feathers glistening in the occasional flash of lightning. The bird watched her with intelligent, penetrating eyes, as if carrying an unknown omen.

However, what caught her attention the most was the red beak that the bird had, which seemed to stand out against its black features and, for some reason, brought her comfort.

Deep down, she knew that this was the maximum comfort she could get at that moment and for the next few days, since her mother's throne had just been usurped and her brothers had gone in search of allies to fight in a war that was to come.

Remembering that Jacaerys and Lucerys were alone out there in search of allies made Daella's heart come to her throat and made her feel a little guilty for not having followed them in search of more support for reclaiming the throne. Yet she couldn't go, not when her combat skills were almost nonexistent and not when Rhaenyra was mourning Visenya, who had died during birth.

To say Daella was her mother's shadow was an understatement. The princess was like her mother's shadow from the day she was born, following in her footsteps in almost every aspect of life. The connection between them was so deep that Daella seemed to reflect her mother's essence and values in almost everything she did.

She would do anything for her mother, and that's why she decided to stay to help her, because in addition to loving her unconditionally, she knew her; she knew that Rhaenyra was suffering, and she knew that sometimes she was too proud to admit it. That was one of the things they had in common.

"Princess Daella?!" A man's deep voice woke her from her thoughts, and she jumped a little, startled by the sudden noise that came from behind the oak door. "Princess, are you there?" The man asked again, and she recognized it as Sir Duman's voice, one of her mother's most faithful guards.

Regained her composure, Daella took a deep breath, and hurried to the door of her chambers, both worried and curious about the late-night interruption.

The first thing she saw when she opened the letter was Sir Duman's worried face. The flickering torchlight in the hallway cast shadows across his features, highlighting the urgency in his eyes.

Lifting her chin and stretching her back, Daella couldn't help but feel worry wash over her, but still, her voice didn't waver as she began to speak. "Yes, Sir Duman, I'm here. What happened?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

The old man's expression returned to normal, and the girl couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed his expression soften.

That meant he didn't bring bad news, right?

"Queen Rhaenyra is waiting for you in the great hall, my princess; she wishes to speak with you." Sir. Duman began, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the castle. "A raven has arrived with news." At those words, the Velaryom girl furrowed her eyebrows in question, curiosity falling over her once again.

"Oh." Daella said, and she bit her tongue when she realized her short and stupid answer. "Then let's go; we can't keep our grace waiting." At Daella's words, the man nodded and waited for the princess to lead the way, giving a small bow when she passed in front of him.

Even as she tried to maintain a confident posture while making her way towards the great hall, the Velaryon girl couldn't help but let some of her other concerns creep back into her mind, and the speculations of what could have happened seized her brain in such a ravenous way that she felt like she might vomit at any moment.

The queen had never summoned her at such a late hour, so the matter must be urgent.

Upon arriving at the great hall, Daella carefully opened the door, finding her mother and stepfather, Deamon, standing in front of the stone table. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice her presence there.

"Your grace." The princess spoke in a loud voice, hearing the wooden door behind her slam as she spoke. "Did you request my presence?" The girl said that, although it came out more as a questioning tone, she couldn't help but smile when she noticed her mother's violet eyes looking at her with so much love.

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra approached her daughter, a smile on her face but a tired look that made Daella's heart sink. Losing Viserys had been difficult for her mother, but losing Visenya had caused her mother heartbreak that she had never felt before.

She knew she probably couldn't endure a loss like that as well as her mother did, which only deepened her admiration for her.

"My sweet girl." The queen greeted her sweetly, and Daella couldn't help but let her smile widen when she realized that she wanted to have a conversation as a mother and not as a queen.

"Yes, māzma?" Daella questioned with curiosity shining in her eyes and got a little closer to her mother, managing to get a clearer view of her stepfather, who was currently reading a letter with an annoyed expression. The coat of arms of House Blackwood was visible on the envelope he had in his another hand. (mom)

Rhaenyra sighed softly, and when the princess saw her exchanging meaningful glances with Daemon, their eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You know we sent letters to some noble houses seeking support for the war, right?" The queen asked rhetorically and gave another sigh when she saw her daughter nodding her head hesitantly.

Daemon got a little closer to them.

For some reason, Daella's heart began to beat heavily, and she couldn't help but bite her lip, anxious for the next words the white-haired woman was going to say to her.

"The good news is that most houses have decided to join us." Daemon spoke up for the first time, sensing his wife's hesitation in bringing up the subject. He just wanted to finish this conversation.

"But?" Daella asked when she noticed the hesitation and the hesitant exchange of glances. Her head was racing. They should be happy to have such strong allies, but yet they seemed worried, and the fact that none of them told her what was happening was starting to make her upset.

"The Blackwoods have agreed to support our cause." This time, Rhaenyra spoke and placed a hand on her belly. "But they have one condition." The woman's words faded off, and Daella turned to her stepfather for an explanation.

Daemon moved a little closer and looked at his wife for permission before speaking. "They want a marriage alliance between you and Benjicot Blackwood." He explained carefully, and the princess looked at the two in shock.

The revelation hit Daella like a wave, causing her to step back in shock. She had always known a political marriage was inevitable, but now that the reality had dawned on her, she felt dazed and even a bit unwell.

"What? Why?" She asked, distressed, her heart pounding and her hands sweating as she walked backward down the hall. Rhaenyra glanced at her worried daughter before turning back to her husband and giving him a nod.

Daemon massaged his forehead, starting to get irritated. "House Bracken and House Blackwood have always been at odds." The man began to explain and once again looked at his wife for permission to continue. "Upon discovering that the Branckens were our allies, Lord Blackwood made the marriage request in exchange for his troops and services." He finished, and the princess couldn't help but give a disbelieving nasal laugh, her hand out of a simple rivalry. It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

Noticing Daella's expression, Rhaenyra approached her daughter again, this time more carefully. "I know it's a lot to process. But it's your decision; if you don't want to get married, Daemon and I will refuse the proposal." She said, while putting her hand on Daella's face, who bit her lower lip.

She harbored an intense desire to express her refusal, to vocalize her frustration, but remained unable to do so, aware of the imminent threat of war, the critical need for allies, and her support for her mother and brothers during the approaching storm.

"The House Blackwood is important?" Daella asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, and the two adults in the room exchanged a solemn nod. Too much important.

"It's better to have them on our side than on the opposite side." Her stepfather reacted with an impatient gaze, and she couldn't help but sighed.

"I understand, I will do it." Daella said quietly, her voice steady as she accepted the reality before her, and with a deep breath, she straightened her posture.

There was no turning back now.

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged glances, a mixture of pride and concern evident in their eyes, knowing the weight of the sacrifice that the only daughter of the heir to the Iron Throne was making at this moment.

"I'm immensely proud of you, thank you." The queen whispered, planting a tender kiss on her daughter's cheek. The princess visibly softened, reassured by her mother's affectionate gesture amidst the swirling emotions.

"I will promptly dispatch a raven to Lord Blackwood." Damon interrupted , his tone brooking no delay, and Rhaenyra shot him a stern look at his brusqueness, while Daella sighed anxiously in silent agreement beside them.

She was doing this for her mother.

— i don't know how to feel about this, but i hope you like it. <3 normally my chapters tend to be bigger, but as this is just the prologue i decided to make it smaller, and this is my first hotd storie so i'm kinda scared.

— benji soon, promise. 😔

ALSO: please make me requests for: reader x character.

wattpad.

tag: @marytvirgin

#lua 🏹💭#benjicot blackwood x oc #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #benji blackwood #bloody ben #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon

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lalunanymph · 2 months ago

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MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, allergic reactions, mentions of giving birth, mentions of injuries, mentions of assault, sick!reader, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 4: THE THRONE ROOM

Satoru’s fingers were icy cold, burning into your skin.

He didn't utter a single word when you jerked your head back, the furious glint in your eye looking so pathetic that he almost dared to pity you.

You hang your head forward, crying softly, unaware of anything but the rushing scenery that fades from foliage to stone walls. Once inside the castle’s fortress, Satoru cuts through your bindings, dismounting from his horse and extending a hand to give you assistance.

But, stubborn as you are, you slip off the horse and land on your shaky feet, ignoring his outstretched hand and walk ahead, your head held high and glare unyielding.

Satoru catches up to you easily, and you can hear the frustration in his voice when he utters, “We need to see my Father.”

You falter.

Of course. After the stunt you pulled, it was only natural that the King himself wanted some answers.

Nodding, you clasped your wasp-bitten hands together, trying to smooth your skirt which bore tatters from your tumble with Satoru on the snowy ground, and the hellish chase you endured through the prickly forest foliage.

He led you towards the throne room, pushing open the heavy duty double doors for you.

Immediately, the courtroom fell into a hush; nobles who were conversing amongst themselves stopped to appraise you with horrified looks. The guards gaped at your state of being, and even the court jester ceased his juggling antics, the plastic balls in midair plummeting to the floor with dull thuds.

The second he clasped his gaze onto you, King Satoshi stood up, a look of horror inscribed upon his features as he took in your wounded hands, the tears on your dresses and across your face.

“Cerena.”

Satoru moved to stand in front of you, bowing deeply to his father. “Princess Cerena has been rescued and retrieved. She was found in the middle of the Northern Forest, Your Majesty.”

Perturbed by this discovery, Satoshi moves from the dais, approaching you with caution. You dropped your gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

“What happened to her?” He demanded, as if dealing with an errant child. He turned to Satoru who shot him a grimace. “I thought I told you not to hurt her? Why does she look bedraggled… like she was hunted down?”

Striking up his loathsome glare, Satoru slid his frigid blue gaze to you and spoke the truth.

“Princess Cerena assaulted me, Father. She climbed up a tree and hacked through a wasp nest to drop it at my feet where I was stung. Then, she tried to run away and cause a scene. I had to do what needed to be done.”

Satoshi’s brows shot up into his white hair, his horrified expression clamoring for your attention in your periphery.

“Gods above, Cerena—you tried to assault the Prince?”

The nobles around you gasped, their hands fluttering to their gaping mouths; hiding their shocked expressions behind colorful fan plumes.

He turned back to you, anger thundering in his teal eyes.

“Child, what do you have to say for yourself? You have caused a grievous error to my son and you need to be punished duly. It is high treason for anyone to lay a hand on the Prince of Northern Haleway.”

The injustice and horror of it all coalesced inside of you, and you felt faint from the numerous eyes around. Their accusations grated your ears, sounding like demonic whispers which made you faint with alarm, the corners of the room growing fuzzier as your knees were close to buckling.

“I only ran away because Satoru was conspiring with his lover to end my life!”

Whatever the court thought you would say, it was never this.

Frenzied murmurs run amuck in the courtroom, like fire catching on dry leaves, crackling around you like a roof about to topple down. King Satoshi’s face paled, and beside you, standing stiff as a rock, your fiancé gritted his teeth.

“That is absurd,” Gojo rushed to defend himself, sparing you a pertinent glare. “I do not have a lover and I have never conspired with said woman to bring any harm to the Princess’ life. Her accusations are those of a mad woman, Father.”

You flinched and slapped a hand to your mouth, the shakes in your body growing harder to ignore.

“Liar! You conspired to end my life! Why do you think I would run if not for such a treasonous act?”

Peeling your lachrymose eyes to the King, you hiccuped, “Please, Your Majesty. Speak to the maid named Miri and she will validate what I have to say.”

It was a slim prayer, that of a desperate woman, but you had to try. You had to shine reason into the King’s eyes that his heir was a cruel, calculating and cold man who unfairly wanted to end your life.

Satoshi pursed his lips, looking between his son and his fiancée who can barely stand without her knees shaking.

In the passing tenseness where no words were spoken, the lightheadedness suddenly stole your breath away and your legs buckled. You would have collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Satoru’s quick reflexes in catching you, holding you upright as he shot you a seething glare.

“For goodness sake, woman. Stand up straight. You are embarrassing yourself.”

But, you cannot hear his condescension or his warning. Your heart was palpitating rapidly, almost like it wanted to claw out of your chest. The room started to spin, and you realized in a frenzy that you couldn’t breathe properly without feeling like your throat was closing in.

Desperation washed over you and you tried to speak, to tell them something was gravely wrong.

A flicker of concern flitted across Satoru’s expression and he tried to hold you upright, but your body would not cooperate.

Losing all bearings and control of your composure, you crumpled right in his arms, as high-pitched screams echoing in the courtroom.

“... guards!”

“... infirmary… hurry!”

Satoru lifted you up into his arms, the sheen of his pure white hair shining under the fleeting lights of the passing sconces. Weakly, you tried to call out his name, but he shushed you, his voice dipping in and out of your consciousness.

“... save your strength… determine what's the issue…”

A hard bed met your back and hands were all over you, expertly probing, pressing and checking your vital signs.

The physician, an elderly man with wiry salt and pepper curls, pursed his lips, shifting his gaze to the King and the prince waiting anxiously by the sidelines for your diagnosis.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness. It appears the princess is suffering from an allergy attack. I have the right combination of herbs to aid her, though she might need to be sedated for the time being.”

Satoru bristled at the physician's words.

“Sedated? Why? She was merely stung…”

He trailed off, the unease in his tone catching the older man's attention.

“Stung, you say, Your Highness? What was she stung by?” As he spoke, he gestured to his assistants to prepare the herbal remedy, applying warm compresses onto the sore portions of your swollen hands.

Satoru felt his father's eyes boring into the side of his head and replied uneasily:

“She was stung by wasps.”

The physician scrutinized him, noticing the same reddened lesions all over his face and neck which were identical to the ones on your hands.

Satoru glanced at your unconscious form, guilt glimmering in his cerulean eyes when he took in your ashy pallor and your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“She got attacked while trying to escape from me.”

The physician’s expression turned grave, though he does not openly rebuke the young prince. Rather, he turned his full attention to the afflicted princess and made it his mission for tonight to cleanse her body free of the wasps’ poison.

“My men will be working tirelessly to resuscitate the Princess’ health, Your Majesty, Your Highness. We shall provide you with a report once it is done.”

There was nothing Satoru could do but let himself be led out of the infirmary, the curtains drawn around your feverish and malaised figure to keep your body away from prying eyes.

However, the idea of a whole group of men taking their turns to rub down your body with salve and paste made his stomach churned, and he quickly snapped his fingers to catch a young maid’s attention.

She straightened, rushing forward and bowing immediately.

“Stay with the Princess until the cleansing process is over and report to me instantly once it is done, do you understand?”

Bowing again, the brunette scurried towards the drawn curtains and parted it, letting herself into the circle to keep watch over the unconscious Princess.

A large palm squeezed his shoulder and Satoru turned to find his father’s solemn reflection echoed upon his countenance.

“Whatever happens to Cerena tonight, we must prepare for the worse, son.”

Satoshi moved them out of earshot, leaning forward to depart his grave strategy.

“If she should pass on, we would need to secure your engagement with another princess.” Satoru did not expect his father to bring up such an outrageous suggestion at such a delicate time. The abhorrence deepened the lines of shock on his handsome face and he took a step back.

“No—”

Frustrated by his son’s refusal, Satoshi growled. “Satoru, this is what is best for Northern Haleway—”

“Father. With all due respect, you severely underestimate Cerena’s will to live,” Satoru darted his gaze to the cordoned area of the infirmary, failing to hide the shake in his clenched fists. “She will live and she will make it out alive. I swear upon my own words, I will look after her and nurse her back to health. You do not need to make such a rash decision so soon.”

Struck mute by his son’s passionate insistence, Satoshi pursed his lips.

Eventually, after a few moments of staring down his only heir, the King relented, exhaling an exhausted sigh.

“Alright. I shall put aside the immediate plan for now,” he added gruffly, “Let us hope she makes a speedy recovery.”

Satoru nodded silently and left his father’s side, moving to lean against the threshold of the infirmary. With his strong arms folded across his chest, his gaze remained fixed on the drawn curtains that concealed his betrothed from the world.

The distinguished figure of his son, accentuated by the dark embroidered jacket and matching riding pants that highlighted the stark contrast of his pure white hair, stirred a bittersweet longing in Satoshi. It brought back memories of his own burdensome youth—the long nights spent in that very position, waiting for his Queen to deliver him an heir.

With a quiet sigh, he turned away from the infirmary, pausing to give his son one last, curious glance.

This is strange, indeed. I thought Satoru despised Princess Cerena…?

MTT fun fact: swan hunting is a popular sport in Northern Haleway

dawn says: king dadjo is sus,,,,,,

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year ago

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tryst, too tempest

Icarus fell for loving the Sun.

You will, for loving your lover.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.

Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—

"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"

Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."

Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.

It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–

"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."

The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.

Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.

One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.

Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–

"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.

You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.

"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."

"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.

He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.

Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.

"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"

Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.

Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.

Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.

Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.

Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"

The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.

Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.

or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3

▸ masterlist

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thenameswinterfics · 1 month ago

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SCIAMACHY

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader Settings: Season 2 and post season 2 Summary: As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged. Word Count: 4,4 K Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" (if you're only following the show please do not read this fic). A/N: I'm back! (sadly for you) This is my very first fic I've written for the HOTD fandom and the very first fic of Cregan. I'm nervous, maybe even more than when I posted my first Sihtric fic, probably because the fandom is vast. It came out different of what I've planned in my head and I lowkey hate the last part, but I hope you still could enjoy it! A special thanks to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with clearing my outline and for the title, and for her and @legitalicat for the quick beta reading.

Dedicated to my beautiful Cregan wife @sylasthegrim

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sciamachy: (n), a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadows.

An unfamiliar chill ran down your spine as you walked through the dark corridors of the Red Keep, the place you were born but never called home. The soft crunching of the snow under your boots was the only sound you could hear as you juggled in the darkness, the faintest light in the form of rays filtering through the cracks in the walls and allowing you to see a little.

The sight was vivid, far too vivid, and all you could do was rub your eyes vigorously, hoping that when your vision cleared you would find yourself surrounded by the crackling fire and warmth of your room in Winterfell, the place you were sent against your will but would be forced to call home once you became its new lady.

But no matter how hard you tried to clear your vision: you would still recognise the long, oppressive corridors you had walked as a child, emptied of the countless soldiers of the Kingsguard that guarded it. Each step became an echo of the memories you thought you had buried with time, but which rose to the surface like a breath of fire from the dragon's jaws.

You could still hear the voice of King Viserys, the father who despised you from the moment you took your first breath, guilty of stealing your twin brother's life and living in his name. A father that neglected you for not being born as a man.

You could still hear the voice of your sister Rhaenyra, sweet as honey and warm as a mother's embrace you had never known. You were the little sister she always wanted, the glimpse of freedom amidst her duties to the Crown and the relief from the pain of losing a childhood friend. And it mattered not that you were the quietest of her family, avoiding banquets and receptions in the throne room and sneaking out whenever you could, collecting the brightest bugs and muttering meaningless words, flinching when someone touched your hand: you were still her perfect little sister in her eyes.

And her love was all you wanted right now.

Your bittersweet thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar from outside, the sound so loud it made your head spin and your stomach churn. You quickened your pace, hoping to find a larger crack in the wall to see what was happening outside. And there you found a vision that made you freeze.

You saw two dragons, an older one and a younger one, chasing each other across a stormy sky, their dragon scales glowing under the lightning and thunder as their bodies pursued each other in a majestic yet macabre dance. It seemed an innocent game between them, but the claws and talons of the older dragon prevailed over the younger, and you watched helplessly as he fell to the ground like a comet from the sky, swallowed by the sea.

You walked on, your eyes never leaving the scene outside, wanting to help the little dragon disappear into the water. But the more you crossed the corridor, the heavier the air you breathed became, and roars of pain, of burning lands and clashing swords filled your ears like a cursed chant.

You covered your ears and closed your eyes, stopping your journey towards the throne room. When you opened your eyes again, you saw a room far different from the one you were accustomed to: the vibrant and noisy ambience turned into a ghostly one, the faint rays of moonlight illuminating the Iron Throne. A bloody crown, Jaehaerys' crown, lay abandoned on the throne, rivulets of blood running down to your feet, two dragons lying restlessly behind it. Two children stood before it, their backs to each other, holding each other's hands; you could feel their tortured gaze as they watched the bloody chair, and your heart broke at the sight.

As you approached, trying to touch the crown, soft footsteps made you turn and you heard a wolf howling in the distance.

And then you woke up.

Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honour must pay its price.

These were the words that came out from Cregan Stark's mouth as he escorted Jacaerys to the Wall. They were a testament to how the men of the North were bound by his rigid code of values and honour, and how none of them had ever forgotten or wavered from an oath.

And when the Stark were called upon to renew their allegiance to House Targaryen, nothing would make them waver.

His father Rickon had already done so when he was summoned to King's Landing and bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and a few years later it was Cregan's turn to renew the oath by accepting King Viserys' offer of marriage to the new lord of Winterfell. The young wolf had recently been freed from the regency of his zealous uncle Bennard, and an arranged marriage to a Targaryen princess would strengthen the bond between the two houses since the times of Aegon the Conqueror and Tohrren Stark.

But when he saw the melancholy in your lilac eyes, Cregan realised that politics was nothing more than a sweet lie masking a more sinister purpose: you were no longer welcome at the court of King Viserys, no matter how much your sister begged to keep you under her protection, or how much Alicent Hightower dared to show a glimmer of mercy. You would have been a young dragon raised by a pack of wolves, and as his future wife it would have been his responsibility to look after you.

And now he was called to be sworn to House Targaryen again, on the brink of a civil war that could involve the North in Southern affairs.

“The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir,” Jacaerys announced solemnly, walking through the narrow corridors of the Walls, Cregan at his side. The Lord of Winterfell was holding Ice over one shoulder, the sword as heavy as the title inherited from his father.

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” Cregan retorted, occasionally bowing his head to some members of the Night’s Watch, “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South,” he added, a hint of heavy responsibility in his voice. The threats in winter were much greater than in summer, with the Night's Watch and the men of Winterfell stepping up their activities on the Wall, ready to turn back any outside threats. Furthermore, it was rare to see the intervention of the North in matters concerning the South, but Cregan could not ignore that oaths were broken. And traitors had to pay for it.

“War is coming to the whole realm, my lord,” it was the Prince of Dragonstone’s turn to retort back, “Whilst your men plan to raise guards against wildlings, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. My mother’s claim has been compromised, and little I believe your lady wife could turn her gaze away,”

The words that escaped Jace's mouth left Cregan in a state of astonishment, his brows furrowing and hardening his already stern face. He had never expected the prince to use his wife so cleverly, even though she was a trusted member of his house whom he had sadly never met in peaceful circumstances.

“The Queen has not forgotten the love she has for her sister, and King’s Landing will welcome her again once my mother succeeds in keeping the realm united,”

“My lady wife has her sister's fate very much at heart,” Cregan continued, his gaze softening a bit at the thought of you, “and you arrival put her in a state of worry, my prince,”

The two young men then stood on the Wall, looking out over the untamed land, now covered in white snow. A biting wind whipped around them as Cregan explained how such powerful creatures as the dragons refused to cross the spaces beyond the Wall, highlighting the dangers of the unknown that folded these lands, while he and Jacaerys negotiated the number of men willing to aid Queen Rhaenyra's cause. Cregan himself knew the importance of keeping an oath to a man's moral integrity, and while his duties were tied to the Wall and the threat of the wildlings, he could not ignore the dispute over the king's word.

“My lord,” one of Cregan’s men arrived, forcing the two young men to interrupt their conversation, “Urgent news from Dragonstone,”

The Wolf of Winterfell took the parchment in his hands, and from the brief glance he shared with one of his men, he knew the contents were far from frivolous. He let the paper slip from his hands to read the message, and a sense of astonishment struck him like the chill of the North: his lips curled into a grimace, his eyebrows furled slightly as his grey eyes scanned the words printed on the paper. He could have thought it was an unfortunate joke, but the seal of House Targaryen only confirmed what he had read:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Cregan lifted his gaze to rest on Jacaerys' brown eyes and watched as the young prince's face contorted in confusion, then grief as he glanced at the parchment in Cregan's hands, and hot tears watered his eyes, streaming down his sharp face until two small rivers crossed their path on his chin. The young lord watched helplessly as the Prince of Dragonstone staggered backwards, clutching his chest in a tight fist as if trying to hold it together; it was a sight familiar to Cregan, for he had also lost his younger brother and remembered the same sense of helplessness creeping through his veins.

But as Jacaerys collapsed in grief, a new weight hit Cregan's chest, a sense of dread blossoming in the centre of his stomach as he steeled himself for what was to come.

He would have to inform you and to bring the news of Lucery’s death. And it wouldn’t be easy.

The bright orange sun hid behind the imposing mountains of the North, its last rays illuminating the tops of the peaks and tinting the snow a soft pink. As the light faded, a few amber rays filtered through the windows of your chambers, illuminating them with a soft glow - the gentle warmth of the sun blending with the heat of the great fire in the centre of the room, accompanied by the soft crackle of the wood.

You sat quietly at the foot of your bed, embroidery hoop in hand, watching your son Rickon play with his wooden toys beside you. A few handmaids moved about your chambers, preparing the large table for the dinner you and Cregan would share that evening. Your lilac eyes rested on the small figure of your son, who returned them with a broad smile. But as you raised a hand and gently rubbed his swollen cheeks, you were seized by a sense of unease.

It had been a long time since you and Cregan had been married, and from the first night you spent in Winterfell your mind had been haunted by dark omens hovering over your family name. Glimpses of what had happened in the past and what would happen in the future passed before your eyes like dancing shadows, sometimes appearing even when you were fully awake. You could still hear cries for help filling your ears, dragons fighting in the sky with claws and breath of fire, and sinister whispers plotting an overthrow of power, the image of your father's bloody crown on the throne still vivid in your mind.

The people of Winterfell had always regarded you with suspicion, for you were far from the Targaryen princess they had always imagined. But Cregan had never dared to question your tastes, however strange they might sound, and whenever the duties of lordship allowed him a moment's respite, he would gladly accompany you to the far reaches of the North and catch whatever bugs you wanted. In winter, when the temperatures were too harsh and the bugs were nowhere to be found, he would wrap his great arms around your form and listen to your strange rhymes as he gazed into the fire.

Your prophetic dreams ceased after you gave birth to Rickon, but they returned when a raven came from Dragonstone with grim news: the death of your father the King, the usurpation of your sister's claim by the Hightowers, and the loss of Rhaenyra's only daughter. Fear settled in your heart as you remembered the figure of the young dragon swallowed by the waves of the ocean, and you wondered if even innocent children would fall victim to this dangerous game of power.

The doors of your chambers swung open and Cregan appeared. The handmaids greeted him with a nod of respect, and you gave him a small smile as you watched Rickon rise and reach his father, who scooped him up with his free hand and kissed his little forehead.

But it was when he looked at you that you realised something was wrong. His eyes, softened by the sight of you, held a pain that seemed to be fighting him. It was as if he were carrying a burden too heavy for him to bear, heavier even than his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and the sight surprised you: you had never seen Cregan so troubled by anything.

"Leave us alone," your husband's voice echoed in the room, once again wearing his mask of severity, "I need to have a few words with my wife in private,”

The handmaids bowed their heads and quickly left the room, one of them holding Rickon in her arms. There was an unspoken tension in the air as Cregan cautiously approached you and sat in front of you. He had always been an attentive and protective husband, showing a side that differed from the stern image he gave his men.

“You seem quite troubled, husband,” you spoke softly, your voice faltering slightly. Cregan replied with a heavy sigh, covering your hands with his larger ones and rubbing them with his calloused thumbs.

“Dreadful news came from Dragonstone, my love,” Cregan said in a hoarse voice, choosing his words carefully, as if talking to a wounded puppy, “Your sister, the Queen, lost a child again,”

You felt the ground beneath your feet, surroundings had become as muffled as your husband's voice as he recited the contents of the parchment:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Feeling like you were about to pass out, you rolled over onto your side and gripped the wooden footboard in a tight vice. You immediately covered your mouth and looked down at your feet as your mind slowly processed the news, but the shock was so strong that no tears came. Your mind raced back to the dream you'd had weeks before Jacaerys' arrival, seeing pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite understand until now: Lucerys was the dragon that fell from the sky, and Aemond was the other one who sank his jaws into his flesh.

You felt Cregan's worried gaze on you as one of his hands moved to your arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing way. “It pains me to see you so devastated, my sweet wife,” he spoke quietly, breaking the wall of silence between you, “but you must know that House Stark will stand against-“

“I need a moment, please,” your trembling voice interrupted him as you found the strength to stand at your feet, your thick robes swooning with every step you took in the room. You paced back and forth, one hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while the other supported your lower back, grief and confusion mixing in your head as you felt like you were about to succumb to madness: for a moment you wondered if Rickon would fall victim to the Dance as well, but no bad omen was attached to him and that brought you a moment of peace.

Your restless walk ended as you approached the large window of your chambers and saw Vermax flying restlessly outside. It pained you to see such a magnificent creature as a dragon so distraught over the loss of his kin, and it pained you even more when a flash of his fate crossed your eyes as you saw the dragon dancing among hundreds of arrows.

“It is said that dragons can feel their masters’ emotions,” a rough voice came from behind, and you saw Cregan looking outside like you, “They feel their pain, their turmoil, and they share the same grief.”

“He is preparing for his last flight,” you murmured quietly, turning your head slightly and locking your lilac gaze into his grey one. You felt Cregan’s hand resting on your waist, allowing him to pull you closer and join your foreheads together.

"Winter is coming, my love, and I need my men here to defend the Wall," he spoke softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warmth of your skin against his, "but House Stark will pledge its support to Queen Rhaenyra by sending her thousands of Greybeards to fight in her name. Your sister's claim will be upheld and your nephew will succeed her,"

"Jacaerys will never be King of the Seven Kingdoms," you confessed defeatedly, looking down at your feet, "the only kingdom he will see is of sea and salt. He will never see his mother sitting on the Iron Throne. I have seen it,"

Your words brought a heavy silence to the room and you both withdrew into your thoughts. You saw how quickly Cregan and Jacaerys had bonded, how they spent their days hunting and drinking together while they negotiated the terms of war. Luke's death would not be an accident, and you hoped your words would reach your husband, that he would understand the destructive force dragons could be once they went into battle.

Instead, Cregan's only words were his arms wrapped around you, sealing your body in a protective embrace. He whispered words of comfort, kissed your temple and promised victory over the usurpers.

But deep in his heart, he knew it would not be easy.

Grief and anger were the emotions Cregan felt as he rolled the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting over the words written in pitch-black ink. He cursed himself for not believing the signs of your dreams, for thinking that fear had created them for you. But even this time you were right.

The Battle of the Gullet had been costly for the Blacks, and the death of Jacaerys Velaryon was a low blow the queen would not forgive her usurpers. It was Cregan again who had the task of bringing you the unfortunate news, and his eyes would forever be haunted by the sight of your grief: he saw you holding Rickon as the news of blood and cheese reached Winterfell's ears, and those same dull eyes came back to you as you leaned against the wall at your nephew's death.

Not even the news that King's Landing had fallen into the hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon could ease the paranoia you lived with, but it only served to fuel your dark prophecies. Few letters were exchanged between Cregan and Rhaenyra, with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms constantly asking for her beloved sister and inviting her to return to court and serve if she wished. But Cregan always refused her invitation.

For the truth was that you were safe in the great lands of the North, surrounded by nothing but the love of Cregan and Rickon, far from that viper's nest that was the Red Keep. It took time for you to adjust to the harsh cold of Winterfell and the coldness of its people, but your calm and gentle nature opened a breach in the heart of his hardened lord, and with it, the people began to love you.

The night was cold, and the heat of the fire was not enough to protect them from the blizzard raging outside. Cregan could not sleep, tossing and turning, hoping that the Old Gods would grant him some much needed rest. It was only after tossing and turning on his side for the umpteenth time that he saw you awake too, your platinum curls falling gently to your shoulders and your lilac eyes gazing absently at the small bed where Rickon rested.

The young wolf wrapped his naked arms around your waist and pulled you close, his chest pressed against your back, the layer of your nightgown the only thing separating your bodies. "Sleep seems to have left you too," he said in a harsh voice, his lips brushing against your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

"I have no reason to be asleep, dear husband," you replied absently, the softness of your voice melting his heart. Cregan knew that your mind was far from him, and he feared that your prophetic dreams had imprisoned it again. He let out a long sigh before speaking again.

"A raven came from King's Landing in the morrow," he spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Rickon, "your sister will be pleased to welcome you to the capital and give you all the honours of a Targaryen princess,”

He felt a small chuckle escape your mouth and lowered his head, resting his newly bearded chin on your collarbone, "If it is your wish to reach her, I will order some of my men to arrange a safe journey south for you." Cregan went on, his voice faltering at the thought of leaving you alone while Rhaenyra dealt with her opponents. But you were his wife and the light of his eyes, and if you wished to regain your lost time with your sister, he would accept it without objection.

But the slight shake of your head surprised him, "It wouldn't change anything. Rhaenyra would be dead the moment I reached King's Landing, and the gods know what horrors await there.”

Cregan's brow furrowed, and for the first time he seriously considered the words of your prophetic dreams: if the Dragon Queen was indeed about to die, what would happen if he left his wife alone in the grasp of the Greens? A shiver ran down his spine, anger boiling in his chest at the thought of you being taken prisoner by Aegon the Usurper.

"That will probably not happen," the Lord of Winterfell scoffed, tightening his grip as if he secretly feared you would disappear in his arms, "You have nothing to fear, my dear woman. Your sister is Queen now. Once the usurpers and the breakers of the oath have paid for what they have done, there will be a reign of peace and prosperity.

"It will not be her," you murmured, rolling to the other side to face Cregan. You leaned your hand against his cheek as you looked at him with your melancholy eyes, "Rhaenyra is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a crown of ashes will adorn her head and a cloak of fire will wrap her body.”

Cregan leaned into your touch, but he could not quite relax at the grim revelation you gave him: he wanted to find comfort in your presence, but your words were as hard as boulders, carrying a heavy weight he wanted to lift from your shoulders.

"I can hardly see it," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt, "Rhaenyra is a strong woman, gathering as many noble men as she can for her cause. The kingdom will be stable under her leadership."

You shook your head slowly again, your eyes filled with sorrow, "But the Dragonfire is stronger than she is, and what she has built will crumble with her," you paused for a moment before continuing, "A throne of iron swords will give way to a wooden one, and only when the cripple breathes his last will a child step in, wearing Rhaenyra's crown like a burden.”

Cregan closed his eyes and tightened his grip, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face as he slowly digested what you had told him. He had learned over time that your dreams were not mere hallucinations of a daydreaming mind, but a prophecy destined to come true, no matter how hard you tried to alter the course of events. The deaths of Jacaerys and Lucerys were living proof.

“I swear on my honour that I will keep raising my banners for the rightful queen, no matter how gruesome our fates will be,” Cregan retorted, lowering his head more until your foreheads met again, “What will be of us?”

"You are bound by your honour and will fight for Rhaenyra until your last breath, my love," you murmured, absently tracing circles on his cheek with your thumbs, "The wolf will cry in the dragon's nest, and his wolf will be heard in the darkest hour. And only when order is restored will the wolf return to his pack."

Cregan stood in silence, his chest rising slowly as he held his breath, the realisation dawned on him: the intense activity on the Wall and the organisation of the harvest had always prevented him and his men from making a proper march on King's Landing, hoping that the Greybeards he had sent would be enough to fight for Rhaenyra's cause. But your words have confirmed that his men will march on King's Landing, and he hopes to find a less devastated city than the one his wife has described.

“Cregan,” your gentle call awakened him from his thoughts, his head resting on your hands, “promise me you will come back to me and Rickon. Swear it,”

The young wolf stood silent for a moment, his eyes drinking in your beauty: it would be painful to leave you behind, but if your prophecy came true, he would be forced to honour his oath and fight for his queen. And so he took your head in his hands, closing the distance and sealing the promise with a long, bittersweet kiss, tasting of farewell but full of hope.

“I swear it.”

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