#no spoilers for season two

[eratosmusings]

Loyalty (II)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: your husband returns to consummate your marriage

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv, arranged marriage, manipulation, abortion allusion (moon tea), lot of religious references

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter / dividers

Daemon takes more than an hour to return. Handmaids came in his absence. They take the pins from your hair, bring fresh water and fragranced soap for a quick wash before leaving you in a single shift made of silk. You pace the stone floor as it grows cold from the dying fire. Why has he not returned?

The fire dims and dims until it is no more than a low red glow in the hearth. The silk is frigid against your skin. It chafes against your breasts in a way that has you squirming. Your husband finally returns. It appears he too has bathed and changed. Gone is his embroidered jacket and red sleeves, replaced with a simple white shirt and a simple robe hanging off his shoulders. His hair is damp and a floral scent wafts from him as he approaches.

“I’d thought you’d be in bed,” he says. 

You attempt a smile, though you fear it appears more as a grimace. Guilt weighs too heavy on the corners of your lips. The wait was intolerable but as is knowing how imminent the act is. Knowing what you must do on the morrow. “Is that where you wish me to be, my prince?”

He frowns. “I had only meant I’d thought you’d be asleep.” His eyes dart over you, only to return to and linger where the peaks of your breasts stab into the shift. "Is that all they gave you to wear, jaesa?" He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You must be freezing.” He pulls the robe from his shoulders and comes to drape it over your own. 

More kindness that you do not deserve. You bow your head. “Thank you, my prince.”

He tisks and turns his attention to the dying fire. “Such formality.” He lowers and begins to arrange new logs over the embers. “We are married now, you must call me something more fitting. Daemon would do well.” He takes a piece of kindling and allows it to catch fire before placing it on top. “Or dear husband, perhaps.” He looks back at you. “Valzȳrys if you’d like to truly capture my heart.”

“Valzȳrys?” It slips out before the rest of his words register as you meet his lilac gaze.

“Wonderful pronunciation,” he murmurs approvingly, standing. “It means husband in Valyrian.” The fire spreads, growing brighter and casting him in its warm glow. It strikes you, rather harshly, that Daemon Targaryen is unparalleled in his beauty. You've always thought him handsome, but in the light of a blaze he is breathtaking.

“I shall try to remember,” you say through the lump in your throat. If you can never allow him children, at least you will give him the allusion of a good, dutiful wife.

His head cocks appraisingly to the side. “Come.” Your feet obey. The warmth of the fire joins the heat beginning to prickle across your skin. His gaze is searching as you come to stand in front of him and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Why wait for me to return?”

Your brows furrow at the question. It’s answer so obvious. “We have yet to consummate our marriage.”

“I did not consummate my last.” His hand comes to toy with the collar of the robe. “I refused the bedding ceremony this evening.” There’s humor in his tone. “Perhaps I did not intend to bed you at all.”

You try to match his easy banter, though there's a tremor in your voice. "Perhaps the sun will rise in the west and set in the east."

He laughs and the sound sends a flutter through your chest. What a beautiful sound. "Do you think I as wanton as a whore?”

"No!" Your hands reach for him, taking hold of his arm. It is solid in your grasp.  "I am sorry, my prince, I did not intend offense."

He laughs again, eyes crinkling. "I merely jest. Your only offense is your continued use of ‘my prince.’”

"Valzȳrys," you offer with relief, letting go of his arm, “I shall do better.”

“My sweet wife,” his other hand comes to hold your face as the first continues to fidget with the robe, “so eager to please.”

Your lips part, but the words die as his fingers follow down the edge of the robe and brush the raised peak of your breast. The sensation, torturous and intoxicating, has you gasping. He takes the distraction as invitation and captures your mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss. Your fingers curl against the cloth of his shirt. Neither to push him away nor pull him closer, but to find a tether in the unfamiliar depths his touch has plunged you into.

He pulls back slowly. Lips plush, pupils blown wide. Hands cupping your breast, thumbs stroking the peaks. Overwhelming, sinful need steals your thoughts. Your eyes squeeze shut. You can't breathe. Your entire focus is on remaining standing. 

"Tell me, jaesa, have you ever touched yourself here before?"

Speech is too difficult. Your head shakes.

"Have you ever dreamt of it?"

Another shake. You had not known it could be used for pleasure. Air greets your lung like a knife when one of his touches disappears.

"How about here?" A hand dips under the hem of your shift, skims along your thighs.

You shake again.

His nose edges along your jaw. "Here? His fingers glide along the apex.

You jolt. No. Never. The words don't make it past your lips. They're trapped somewhere in the shock, the pleasure.

"No?" He speaks for you, his voice low, laced in fond mockery. "What a pure, untouched thing you are, jaesa." His mouth meets yours again. This time his kiss is slower. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, when his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip. His touch continues to move along your most intimate of places. It’s intoxicating.

He draws back, forehead pressing against yours. His breathing is heavy, matching yours. “Now I wish for you to be on the bed.” 

The air feels like ice as he steps away, leaving you bereft of his warmth. You turn, seeking the bed, and stumble forward. Your toe catches on the edge of a table. The pain is sharp and you nearly drop to the floor.

Daemon's arms wrap around you. "Careful."

His touch is maddening. "Yes, valzȳrys."

There's a sound that seems to stick in his throat. Your feet are no longer on the ground. "The bed, jaesa." A surprised giggle leaves as you fall back on the bed. It's plush, more so than your own. And warm. Daemon climbs over you, bracing his weight on his forearms. The firelight casts his features in a soft glow, giving the illusion of gentleness.

He presses his lips against yours, hungry. Your hands cling to his arms. A small moan vibrates from him. There's a firmness pressing into the apex of your thighs. The pressure is nearly as wonderful as his fingers had been. You arch towards him. He presses back.

Then he's gone. Your mouth falls open in protest, a small sound escaping. Daemon sits on the edge of the bed. He’s smug as he tugs off the simple shirt. He stands and drops his trousers, revealing more of his toned physique. Your cheeks burn. His member, juts up proudly. You swallow and avert your gaze. Surely, that cannot fit inside of you.

"Does my cock offend you?"

"No," you say quickly. "It is," your mouth sticks like you'd eaten too much honeyed bread, "large."

He laughs boisterously. "You will find, sweet wife, that it is a gift." He kneels back on the bed, his hands grasping at the hem of your shift. Your eyes snap up. His dance with mischief. "May I remove this?"

Your throat is dry. You nod. The fabric lifts. Your limbs move as they're told. You help him rid you of the silk. The air is cold.

"Beautiful."

Your body trembles under his gaze.

"Lie back."

Your body obeys. His hands slide down your thighs, pushing them apart. Then he is between your legs, kissing his way up your inner thigh. Your mind reels. No one had told you this part. When his mouth finally meets the place his fingers had toyed with earlier, you wonder how anyone could not enjoy this.

A gasp fills the air. Your hands fly to his head, tangling in his hair. Divinity lies between his teeth.

"I have decided," he whispers against your flesh, “that your taste is far better than any berry’s.”

Your hips roll of their own accord. He groans, his grip tightening on your thighs. Then he is back to licking. Your eyes screw shut and your hands grip tighter. There’s a pressure building. The tightness nearly unbearable.

"Valzȳrys," the plea is breathless. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but he must. 

He hums and the vibrations have you bucking. His mouth continues its silent prayers. Your eyes beg to close, but the glow of his lilac gaze refuses such a sin. He watches, equally as enraptured, as he pushes you higher and higher. Ecstasy. You cannot breathe, cannot move. His name, his title, every version of him, is on your tongue, begging. The pressure cracks your walls until they crumble and it is blasphemy that leaves your lips. A moment passes with the wave that follows and then another, your body trembling. The pleasure is slow to subside. His tongue has eased, but continues with languid strokes. Warmth tingles across all of you. His eyes have not given you leave.

Slowly his mouth leaves your sex. A whine leaves you at the loss. "Are you well, sweet wife?" His mouth glistens and the bed shifts as he crawls over you.

"Mhmm," you reply, letting your hands fall from his hair. More than well.

His lips curve, pleased, as they meet yours. They taste nothing near as sweet as a berry. Something presses against you. His member—his cock as he called it. His lips travel down your neck. "Are you ready?"

This is where the pain shall be. Perhaps so terrible it makes all you've done forgettable. There's no other reason you can think of that women would hate it after the pleasure you'd just received. But it is duty. At least, you must keep the appearance of it. You take a deep breath and nod. "Yes, Valzȳrys."

He presses forward and the stretch is uncomfortable. He pushes and a burn begins that makes you squirm. There's a pause."Forgive me," he breathes then his mouth returns to yours. A sharp, awful pain tears through you as his hips slam forward. Your vision blurs with the sting of tears. Your nails dig into his arms.

"The worst is over," he promises

You nod at his falsehood, still unable to see, and attempt to slow your breathing. It is for naught as the pain continues with the movement of his hips. The gods punishment for your sins, even the ones you've yet to truly commit. He whispers something that could be an apology and kisses the tears from your cheeks. You do not say anything. To suffer this for him is your duty.

"Breathe, jaesa. Just breathe."

You force yourself to match his rhythm. Breathing deep, his steady strokes begin to dull the ache. The tenseness in your muscles begin to release. There is some pleasure hidden beneath the discomfort.

"That's it," he encourages, his hand snaking between you.

You cry out as he circles his fingers sending a new wave of ecstasy through you. It spreads like Wildfire. You don't understand. It's supposed to be awful. How can it feel so wonderful?

"I am not a man of patience," he lets his forehead rest against yours, "but these sounds were worth the wait."

"Valzȳrys," your eyes shut and the pleasure builds. It drowns out any lingering discomfort. Only cries of prayers and profanities filling the room as his movements grow more erratic.

His breath stutters. It sounds as if he curses in Valyrian, though you cannot be sure. Then he stops, retreats, and leaves you painfully empty. Something warm and heavy falls across your stomach in thick strings. Your eyes open to his. Breathing ragged. Hair damp with sweat. He presses a kiss against your temple. "I shall bring the basin."

Your brow furrows. "Are we done?" Your body still tingles, tense again. Anticipation rather than pain.

His eyes crinkle but he says nothing, climbing from the bed. Your eyes stay glued to him. It's an enticing view. He returns to the bed with the basin in hand and sits beside where you lay. You know that the seed should sit for a while before it's cleaned away to ensure it takes. That's what the Septa had said. You do not repeat it to Daemon.

The rag is cold and your gasp at the contact leaves your husband issuing a humored apology. He wipes between your legs first, tinging the rag red, before cleaning the seed from your stomach in short, slow swipes. When satisfied, he sets the bowl on the floor and lays beside you. You wonder how you'll be able to sleep when your body still pulses with desire.

"Straddle my face."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Straddle my face," he repeats, "as if you were mounting a horse."

You think you understand the intention, but it seems unnecessarily dangerous. Could he not simply lie between your legs again? "But I will hurt you." Or suffocate him

"You will not."

He helps guide your leg across him, settling your knees on either side of his head. "Lower yourself, do not deny me your taste," he commands. His hands grip your thighs and you obey. He groans. The sound is muffled and then his mouth is back on your sex.

It is different. Not better, not worse, but different. Your body sings and hands fist in his hair. Your husband's tongue is skilled. A blessing instead of the curse you'd been told. For he has you quaking in only a few flicks. Pleasure courses through you like lightning. Yes, his years in pleasure houses were as divinely ordained as your years kneeling in the Sept. Your chest heaves as he coaxes out a final shudder.

When you can breathe again, he grins at you from between your thighs. The image deserves its own depiction in stained glass. "Now, I believe we are done."

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[jedipoodoo]

REQUESTS YOU SAY????

Okay so what about one where Wrecker wakes up from a nightmare and Omega is there to comfort him? Or maybe a female reader? It's up to you. I BOW TO YOUR FABULOUS WRITING SKILLS!

RIP twinky's bloggo, you will be missed. 😭😭😭😭

Notes: Nightmares, brother and sister bonding, order 66 and chips

Little Warrior (Wrecker and Omega)

Wrecker sighed, cracking his back as he stared up at the ceiling. Hunter hated it when he did that, but Hunter was asleep right now so who cared what he thought?

He carefully made his way to the kitchenette. Ninety-Nine always snuck them hot chocolate when they had a bad training day on Kamino, and he could use a pick-me up. Much to his surprise, someone was already there.

"Omega?" He rubbed his eyes as he yawned, convinced that he was still sleeping. Omega was standing on her tiptoes to reach the dial on the stove, stretching around a pot of milk that was already poured.

"Hi Wrecker!" She whispered loudly, grinning nervously at him.

Wrecker finished his yawn, "What're you doing up, ad'ika?" He asked, sleep painting his voice to sound sterner than he meant.

Omega hid her face behind her arm, "I wanted some hot chocolate."

Wrecker was pleasantly surprised that they were both after the same thing. "Is there enough for me?" He asked. Omega grinned up at him.

"There should be!"

Wrecker reached over Omega, turning the heat on low so that the milk wouldn't burn. He took the plastic spoon, stirring slowly to let the milk heat evenly. The chocolate powder was too high for Omega to reach without standing on top of Gonky, so Wrecker got it down for her. As he carefully stirred, Omega poured the powder into the pot, letting it mix smoothly into liquid gold.

"I never understand why Cid doesn't sell hot chocolate at the parlor. It's so much better than all that other stuff."

"Yeah, it is," Wrecker agreed. then he paused.

"How do you know what the drinks at the parlor taste like?" He asked suspiciously. They would've caught her drinking any alcohol, wouldn't they? Hunter would have smelled it, Tech would've noticed her symptoms, and Echo would have been on her like a hawk-bat if Omega so much read the label on the bottle.

Admittedly, Wrecker kicked himself mentally, maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention that she may have snuck something while he wasn't looking.

Omega squinted up at Wrecker, asking him if he were serious.

"All of you complain about how bad her drinks are all the time. Plus, if I can't have any of it, how good can it be?"

Wrecker laughed to cover his sigh of relief. Disaster averted.

Once the milk was hot enough, Wrecker poured the hot chocolate into a couple of tin mugs and turned off the heat.

Omega cupped the mug in her hands and inhaled deeply. They made their way into the cockpit to sit and drink their treat in peace.

Wrecker took a long sip, letting the heat sink into his sore muscles, and leaning back in his chair with a creak.

"Alright, out with it. What're you really doing up, kid?" He asked.

Omega looked down at her hot chocolate as if she were looking for her reflection.

"I heard you having a nightmare." She spoke so quietly, Wrecker's hearing wouldn't have picked it up if he weren't trying to be quiet himself.

"I-I made you some hot chocolate because you always want hot chocolate when you have a nightmare and I wanted you to feel better."

"Oh," He said softly, setting his mug aside, "I'm sorry I woke you up, kid. I'm okay now, aren't I?" He held out his arms, letting Omega see that he was injury-free.

Omega looked up at him, and her bottom lip trembled. She hardly had a chance to put down the mug before she threw herself into Wrecker's arms.

"Oh, hey! What's this?" Wrecker chuckled softly, "Who had the nightmare here, you or me?"

Omega wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. Wrecker could feel the jolt of cold where her button of a nose pressed against the tendons of his neck. Despite his surprise, he held her tightly.

"I-I don't want you to-to have nightmares," Omega said, voice trembling.

"Hey," Wrecker crooned, gently taking her face in his hands. He used his fingers to brush away her tears, "I'm alright, kid, promise. I don't even remember what I dreamed about."

He settled Omega on his knee, grabbing her cup to let her finish off her drink.

The hot chocolate seemed to sooth her trembling shoulders, and Wrecker took a sip of his own drink.

"I'm sorry, ad'ika. I didn't mean to scare ya-"

"You were dreaming about the chips again."

Wrecker felt more than heard the deafening beat of his heart in the painful silence that ensued.

"What...what do you mean again?" He asked.

Omega nodded, her head moving against his chest. Wrecker wondered why she didn't just shove him away or cower in fear. His brief stint under the influence of the inhibitor chip was the worst of his memories, but it was just as traumatizing for Omega as it had been for him.

"You've had it three times, by my count. I don't know if the others know. You'll talk in your sleep, telling yourself to follow orders, and then you'll try and stop yourself, but it doesn't work and...and then you wake up."

So now Wrecker had a name to put to the faceless dread that hung over him every time he woke up in the middle of the night unable to remember what he'd dreamed. What if this became more than a dream? What if he started sleepwalking? Started hurting his brothers, or force forbid, Omega? The chip was out now, Wrecker had complete control over his body, but that didn't mean being stripped of his autonomy wasn't something he feared.

But he knew better than to worry about that happening, particularly while his little sister was trembling in his arms.

"Hey Omega, it's okay. It's just a dream. We're alright now. No chips, no Empire to boss us around."

Omega looked up at Wrecker. Her brown eyes, twin to his one good one, were big and round, looking up at him with all the admiration and trust the galaxy could hold.

"Besides, how could I let a nightmare get the best of me when I've got you around?" He tapped her nose, earning a giggle in respones.

"Me? what do I do?" Omega laughed nervously.

"Well, you protect me from my nightmares, of course! Just look at what you did for me tonight!" Wrecker clinked his cup against Omega's, drinking in toast to her.

Omega shyly hid behind her mug, "I'm glad I could help, Wrecker."

Wrecker kissed the top of her head. Her hot chocolate was almost gone, and her head was getting heavier against his chest.

"Yeah, you were a big help tonight, verd'ika. But you've got to get some sleep too, okay?" He ruffled her hair.

Omega tried and failed to hide a yawn, her arms stretching of their own volition.

"Can I sleep in your bunk tonight? just to make sure you don't have any more nightmares?"

Echo would say no. But Echo wasn't there right now. So Wrecker rinsed out both their mugs and the pot and left them in the sink to clean with breakfast, and carried Omega to his bunk, but not before grabbing Lula from the gunner's nest. He waited until Omega was settled with her back to the wall before climbing in after her, careful not to trap any of her skinny limbs. He pulled up the blanket, making sure Omega got plenty of fabric.

"Thanks for helping me with my dreams, 'Mega," Wrecker said. She was almost asleep, but Omega nodded in her sleep, letting herself curl into Wrecker's arms.

With her help, he didn't have any nightmares for the rest of the night.

[spacecatlivesonthemoon]

[heavnlysaturn]

the arcane fandom can argue about literally anything, but the one thing we all agree on is that ekko, the boy savior, is the most unproblematic character ever, and that we all absolutely love him. while everyone else is caught up in gay tragedy of all kinds, my boy ekko is just over here trying to fix his goddamn tree

[molynomials]

im dissolving in sulfuric acid

[gaypirate420]

Welcome back Jesus of Nazareth.

[wretchedwitchpussy]

[agendercryptidlev]

NOT SEEING ENOUGH PEOPLE TALK ABOUT JINX'S LITTLE FOUND FAMILY AND HOW PERFECT IT IS THEMATICALLY!!!

Specifically what I want to highlight is how Jinx found the two most important parts of herself that she lost in Sevika and Isha.

In Sevika she found a new Vi, a new older sister figure. She cannot fix things with Vi, she understands that, but her relationship with Sevika is something she can fix, and she can mourn Silco with Sevika in a way she and Vi could never mourn Vander together.

In Isha she found Powder, the person she once was who she can't be anymore. In many ways Isha gives Jinx the opportunity to protect and love Powder in the way she always wished others would do for her, quite literally Isha heals Jinx's inner child.

[tiredcupofangry]

Their eyes.... the matching colours...!!!! 😭

[kalicocal]

ONE FUCKING BREAK. CAN THEY NOT GET A GODDAMN SECOND TO FUCKING BREATHE?!?!?!

[ato-dato]

Piss off!!! Thanks!!!!!!!!!! :)))))

[iminmywritersdungeon]

This this this right here is getting to me. Gif is from @terrapia

Yeah you could argue this parallels Silco but it doesn’t really. Silco didn’t want to give up jinx because she’s his daughter. Sevika doesn’t want to give up jinx because she’s a zaunite

And you know who that reminds me of so fucking much?

That’s Vander’s ideology right there. Vander could have done like Grayson suggested, picked any rando off the streets to take the fall for the apartment explosion, but he wouldn’t, because those are his people.

Vander was weak and Vander was a coward but Sevika followed him once, and there was a reason for that

Silco may have been the Eye of zaun, but Vander is its Heart, and that heart is still fucking beating

[moss-balll]

they really brought david tenant’s son in and said hey do you want to play a gay little boy in good omens 2. just a little camp mf. nepotism done right.

[themaidenofwords]

Jon: Wow look at all of these Freaks and Weirdos in these statements. Good thing that I'm unlike them and always logical and intelligent.

Also Jon: Supplemental-- I am in the walls.

[bewarethecircles]

I went through every possible emotion in those last 20 minutes, plus some that I made up on the spot! how are y'all?

[arcanescreencaps]

Arcane Season 2 | Nothing to Lose | Official Clip | Geeked Week | Netflix