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librababe99 · 2 months ago

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In the Shadows of Gotham

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, Bruce Wayne x Girlfriend!Reader, fingering, p in v, oral (f! receiving), overstimulation, body worship word count: 3.1K Summary: Bruce Wayne, the man who lives in the shadows of Gotham, the protector and savior of the city, has only one true weakness—you. After a long night of crime-fighting, Bruce returns home to indulge in your presence.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bruce and I've had a few ideas swirling around for some time...I was ready to get something out! Happy reading <3

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The weight of Gotham’s night clung to the man you loved. Shadows danced through the large windows of Wayne Manor, wrapping their cold tendrils around the walls of the lavish bedroom where you lay waiting. The clock on the bedside table ticked past 3 AM, a constant reminder that Bruce was still out there, somewhere in the darkness, risking his life for the city that never slept.

You had grown used to the late nights, the endless hours of waiting, but tonight felt different. There was a heaviness in the air, thick with anticipation. You had caught glimpses of it over the last few days—how the tension seemed to coil around Bruce’s muscles like a bowstring, how his eyes darkened with an unspoken need whenever they settled on you. You could feel it building, the way you felt the storm brewing over Gotham before it broke the sky open.

The low, familiar sound of the Batmobile’s engine pulling into the hidden cave beneath the manor jolted you out of your thoughts. Bruce was home.

The idea made your heart race with a blend of excitement and nervousness. He had been so distant lately, his focus entirely on Gotham’s latest wave of crime. But tonight, as you lay in bed, waiting for him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

The door creaked open, and there he was, standing tall in the shadows of the room. Bruce Wayne. The man, the myth, the enigma wrapped in darkness. He shed the Bat like an old skin, letting it fall away as he stepped toward you. His broad shoulders were still encased in the black of his suit, but his cowl was off, revealing the intense blue of his eyes that locked onto you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice low and rough from the night's exertions.

"I couldn't sleep." Your voice was soft, inviting.

Bruce stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you. His gaze roamed over your form, lingering on the way your body was partially hidden beneath the sheets, but exposed enough to draw his attention. You felt the burn of his eyes on you like a physical touch, and heat bloomed in your core.

"You should rest," he murmured, though his voice was threaded with something darker, something deeper.

"I was waiting for you," you replied, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping further down your chest, revealing the curve of your breasts.

His eyes darkened further, and a low growl of approval rumbled in his chest. "You shouldn't have to wait."

"But I want to," you whispered, your voice a breathy invitation. "I always wait for you, Bruce."

His control snapped like a taut wire. In a heartbeat, he was crawling onto the bed, moving with a predator's grace. He loomed over you, one hand coming up to cradle your face with surprising gentleness, while the other slid beneath the sheets, brushing over the softness of your skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he rasped, his lips inches from yours. "How hard it is to come back here night after night and not just...devour you."

"Then don't hold back," you breathed, leaning into his touch. "I want you, Bruce. All of you."

His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. It was desperate, needy, filled with all the pent-up emotion he'd kept locked away behind the mask he wore for Gotham. His tongue slid against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair.

The hand that had been caressing your face moved down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and it sent a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

But Bruce didn’t move to undress you right away. Instead, he pulled back, staring down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I need to touch you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All of you. I need to remind myself that you're here. That you're real."

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he slowly peeled the sheet away from your body, exposing your naked form to his hungry gaze. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, as if he was memorizing the way you looked, committing it to memory in case he never got another chance.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You flushed under his praise, your body trembling with anticipation as he lowered himself down beside you. His large hands, rough from years of fighting, slid over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He started at your collarbone, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your neck before dipping lower to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped, arching into his touch.

He took his time, worshipping every inch of you with his hands, his mouth following the path his fingers had blazed. He kissed the hollow of your throat, the curve of your breast, the soft swell of your stomach. Each touch, each kiss, was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of you, the feel of your skin beneath his lips.

You were lost in the sensation, your body humming with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your hands fisting in the sheets as his mouth trailed lower, kissing along the inside of your thighs. “Please...”

He groaned against your skin, his breath hot as he kissed his way closer to where you needed him most. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take my time with you.”

You whimpered again, your body aching with need, but you knew better than to rush him. Bruce was a man who controlled every aspect of his life with iron discipline, and that control extended to the bedroom. He liked to draw things out, to savor the slow build of pleasure until you were trembling on the edge of release.

And that’s exactly what he did.

His mouth finally found your core, and you cried out as he dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, teasing you with featherlight touches. He hummed against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body as he tasted you. His tongue circled your clit, drawing tight, controlled patterns that had you gasping for air.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands tightly as he continued to torment you with his mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. You could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your belly.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face. “I’m so close...please...”

He groaned again, his grip on your thighs tightening as he increased the pressure of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

And then he stopped.

You cried out in frustration as he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Bruce, please...I need...”

“I know what you need,” he growled, crawling back up your body. His eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide as he hovered over you. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was kissing you again, his mouth hot and insistent against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, the salty sweetness of your arousal mixed with the raw, masculine flavor of him. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your slick entrance and slipping inside you. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching off the bed as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back. “Please...I need...”

“You’ll get what you need,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “But first, I want to feel you come around my fingers. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around his fingers as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened once more. He added a third finger, stretching you in a way that was just on the edge of too much, but it felt so good that you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

His thumb brushed over your clit, and that was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge. Your body seized, and you cried out as the orgasm crashed through you, your walls clenching around his fingers in waves of pleasure.

Bruce groaned, watching you with a look of pure, unadulterated lust as you fell apart beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “That’s my girl.”

You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers out of you, his lips crashing against yours once more. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the tang of your release mixing with the roughness of his kiss.

Bruce pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes darker than the Gotham night. His hands were still on your trembling thighs, holding you open for him, and the way he gazed at you was as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. There was something primal in his expression, a need so deep it made your pulse race all over again.

"You're stunning when you come," he said in a low, gravelly voice, the sound vibrating deep in your chest. His fingers trailed up your thigh, teasingly grazing your oversensitive folds, and you whimpered at the sensation. You were still throbbing from your first orgasm, and even the slightest touch made you shiver with both pleasure and overstimulation.

But Bruce had other plans for you tonight. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart.”

A thrill shot through you at his words. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent, but instead of giving in to his own need, Bruce seemed intent on worshiping you, on drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. You had seen him like this before—focused, deliberate, a man on a mission. Only now, his mission was you.

You bit your lip as he kissed down your neck again, his lips and tongue tracing the path of your earlier shudders. He was slow, methodical, savoring the way your body responded to him. Your skin was hypersensitive after your release, and every kiss, every brush of his rough hands, sent sparks of sensation through you.

“Bruce…,” you breathed, unsure whether you were begging for more or asking for mercy.

His lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “Too much?” he asked softly, though there was a teasing note in his voice. His hand slid back between your legs, his fingers lightly tracing your swollen, soaked folds. "Or maybe... not enough?"

The ache between your thighs reignited at his touch, and you moaned softly, your body arching toward him. You were caught between the lingering sensitivity of your first climax and the overwhelming desire for more. The pleasure had barely faded, and already, you felt it building again. Bruce's fingers dipped inside you once more, stroking you with a maddening slowness that made you squirm beneath him.

"I want to feel you come again," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to see how many times I can make you fall apart for me tonight."

His words, dark and delicious, sent a new wave of heat pooling in your belly. You could feel the tension returning, the slow, insistent pulse of pleasure building as Bruce continued to work his fingers inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit in rhythmic circles. You clenched around him, your body already betraying you, already chasing the high of release again.

He was relentless, patient, his fingers curling against that sweet spot deep inside you, his thumb rubbing circles around your oversensitive clit. You could barely think, barely breathe as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to overwhelm you. You had never been so close to overstimulation before, and it was both too much and not enough all at once.

“Bruce—please, I—I can’t…” You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“You can,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You will.”

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster inside you, and the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened so quickly you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat. You were trembling, shaking with the intensity of it, your entire body on the verge of shattering under his touch.

Then, without warning, the orgasm hit you again, harder than before. Your vision blurred, your entire body arching off the bed as the pleasure exploded through you, wave after wave crashing over you. You cried out his name, your voice hoarse with the force of your release, and Bruce groaned in response, watching you fall apart beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Let go, sweetheart.”

Your body trembled with the aftershocks, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Bruce’s fingers slipped out of you, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, at the loss of his touch. But he wasn’t finished.

He kissed you again, his lips soft but insistent, and you melted into him, still shaking from the force of your second orgasm. His body pressed against yours, his hardness unmistakable as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck. “But I need more. I need to be inside you.”

You moaned softly, your body still thrumming with overstimulation, but the thought of him filling you, of him finally giving in to his own desire, made the ache between your thighs flare with renewed intensity.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Bruce. I need you."

He groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he reached down to line himself up with your entrance. He was thick, hard, and the moment the tip of him pressed against your slick heat, you gasped, your body arching toward him in anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly, Bruce pushed inside you, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling in pleasure. You moaned softly, your hands gripping his biceps as he filled you completely, inch by inch. It was almost too much after everything he had already put you through, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

“God, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck as he finally bottomed out inside you. “So fucking tight. So perfect.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles trembled with restraint. He was holding himself back for you, trying not to overwhelm you too soon, but you didn’t want restraint anymore.

"Bruce," you whimpered, rolling your hips against him, urging him to move. "Please…"

That single word broke him.

With a deep, primal groan, Bruce began to thrust into you, slow at first but with a growing intensity that had you gasping for air. Every stroke sent a shock of pleasure through you, your oversensitive body responding to him in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Each time he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside you, and the pleasure radiated outward, overwhelming you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your back arching off the bed as you moaned his name over and over again. He was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force, each thrust driving you higher and higher toward that precipice you had already tumbled over twice tonight.

"Look at me," Bruce growled, his hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, filled with heat and adoration, and the sight of him above you, so consumed by his need for you, made your heart race. "I want to see you come for me again."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The tight coil of pleasure in your belly unraveled, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering as your release triggered his own. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself inside you, his body trembling as he spilled into you. His thrusts slowed, becoming more erratic as he rode out his orgasm, until finally, he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, slick with sweat and sated.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breaths mingling together. Bruce’s weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as your mind slowly returned to your body. He didn’t pull out right away, staying inside you, still hard enough to keep you full as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with something softer, something tender.

You smiled up at him, your hand sliding up to cup his face. "So are you."

Bruce let out a soft chuckle, his lips brushing against yours in a lazy, languid kiss. “I think I might’ve broken you,” he teased, his thumb tracing the curve of your swollen lips.

“You did,” you admitted with a breathless laugh. “In the best possible way.”

He rolled over onto his back, taking you with him so that you were lying on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you let out a contented sigh as you snuggled into the warmth of his body.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

Bruce smiled softly, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “So could I.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. There was no crime, no shadows. There was only the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, basking in the warmth of your love.

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claymoresword · 5 months ago

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The Queen And Her Knight | Chp: 7

Alicent Hightower x Knight Fem!Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower against her better judgement, falls in love with her sworn protector. Can she bear to fight her feelings or will she finally just give in?

Wordcount: 4.2k

Pairing: Alicent x Reader

Warnings: power imbalance, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, g!p reader, dialogue heavy, mentions of alcoholism

Note: you asked and after a year i finally delivered! this one definitely moves the plot forward but i also managed to get carried away with the smut somehow lol. if you wish to skip it just keep a lookout for the asterisks

enjoy!

Taglist: @blackbirdv98 @flaiire1805 @alicentfangirl @memarrymilf @thegayassbit-ch @vantestark @hauntedfictionland @livinginafantasysposts @baddie-on-a-mission-xx @evolutionsglory @darthtargnister @dxrewclf @rozmrazaradelfinow @wlwfanfictionss @karsonromanoff

You hold up the crown for all to see. The aged relic is a circlet of valyrian steel, set with blood-red rubies. Although only few remained, the squared cut gemstones were still a captivating sight to regard nonetheless.

The crown was once worn by Aegon The Conqueror – it seems fitting that it now be passed down to his namesake.

The dragon pit is engulfed in trepidation enough to stifle, as you gently place the crown upon Aegon's head.

It fits like a glove. A reassuring and altogether unsettling prospect.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen, is the true heir to the Iron Throne.” A declaration that rattles the silence. Your voice travels far, it ricochets off the towering walls and high ceilings.

You watched as the High Septon assisted the King back onto his feet before bowing at him in respect.

Your hand firmly resting on the hilt of your sword as you incline your head the same way when Aegon glances at you.

As he shifts his stare toward his mother, Alicent performs a curtsey. Followed by the same from Helaena.

Aemond holds his older brother's gaze for a moment before inclining his head in respect as well.

“All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second Of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” The High Septon announces as Aegon turns to face the mass of people watching the ceremony.

“Aegon the king!” You call out, and soon the crowd erupts, loud bursts of shouts and claps, all celebrating their new king.

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While you stood in the dowager queen's bedchambers, your expression twists incredulously as Alicent endlessly fusses at your breastplate. Soon, moving behind you to fasten your white cloak.

“Your Grace, I can manage this on my own, truly.” You insist once more, feeling rather queer. A queen should not be tending to you, in fact it ought to be the opposite.

Alicent remains determined, and stubborn.

“Hush.” She scolds, and you say nothing else.

“There we are.” She says, smoothing out your green tunic. After accepting the post as Lord Commander, you have since abandoned your own house colors.

Even the breastplate you have chosen for today was a foreign one, no longer the golden kraken, now intricately carved with the sigil of House Hightower instead.

Uncanny as it may be, you could not deny that it was beautifully made, and generally easier on the eyes compared to your old armor, it also fits far more comfortably.

You catch Alicent's eyes upon you, now suddenly feeling exposed, by the way she was observing your frame.

Shameless and brazen; you can't help the way it stirs something within you.

“Alicent.” You snatch her attention abruptly, forcing back your amusement.

“Hm?” The dowager queen replies, lost for a moment. It seems she only realizes she has been caught when your eyes meet. A visible blush rapidly creeps up to her face in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“You seem to be eyeing me like a meal to devour.” You point out, causing Alicent to avert her gaze entirely from embarrassment.

Gods, how desperately you wish to kiss her right now.

“You look exceptional in green,” The queen utters, her hand slips up your forearm.

In truth, her admittance doesn't surprise you.

Fascinating how she can be transparent one moment and entirely unreadable the next.

This notion alone draws you in beyond reason. With Alicent, you are always acting on pure desire and instinct.

She has completely enchanted you.

“Is that right?” You ask regardless, moving closer.

Alicent nods, her bottom lip set in between her teeth. The sight of her like this always drove you mad with the urge to ravage her here and now.

The older woman instinctively slips her arms around your neck. It takes all of your control to only place a hand on the small of her back and nowhere else, trailing tender kisses along her jaw.

“Do you enjoy seeing me in armor, Your Grace?” You whisper.

As you part her hair away from her neck, you allow your lips to meet the shell of her ear. Relishing in the way Alicent trembles at your touch.

“I do, very much.” She answers, and as you pull away, Alicent does quite the opposite, leaning in to capture your lips with her own.

Open-mouthed and eager, she kisses you with enough fervor and passion to leave you aching for more.

You can hardly help the way your hand slips lower to squeeze her rear, pulling her flush against your groin.

Alicent gasps into your mouth at the sensation, now feeling the bulge in your breeches.

She kisses you once more before pulling away, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck to hide her flushed expression.

“Lord Commander.. you are being terribly indecent.” The queen's tone betrays a playfulness, one that exhilarates you.

“I cannot help it, my queen. You drive me half-mad with want.” You remark, as your hand slides up her back in a languid manner.

Alicent exhales against your neck. She pulls you in even closer, welcoming your touch.

“Be safe today.. return to me in one piece.” The other woman utters, you meet her brown eyes, warm and enticing.

“If the Gods will it, I shall.” Your response is likely less than reassuring, but the dowager queen does not say anything to confront this.

Alicent merely occupies herself by tracing along your features delicately with her thumb. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, unable to hide the smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, basking in the attention she is giving you.

“Kiss me again.” You ask, and the queen moves to do exactly that, but a knock on the door causes Alicent to abruptly pull away, resuming a proximity.

The suddenness of her action nearly knocks the wind out of you and your smile quickly dissipates.

It aches, in truth, having to sneak around like this. You mislike feeling like a dirty secret– the queen's mistress.

Or perhaps her whore.

“Come.” Alicent calls, she composes herself as she straightens out her gown. A heartbeat before her father enters.

Alicent's demeanor shifts in a way you have been privy to in the past. It appears effortless the way her expression sets impassively, her hands clasped firmly over her stomach.

Now she is queen Alicent, again. No longer the woman you had been kissing just moments prior.

Otto has his jaw tightened in a similar fashion, studying you in a way that forces you to shift uncomfortably, despite yourself. “Lord Commander, it is time for us to depart.” He finally utters.

You nod, reaching for your sword belt. “Very good, m’lord.”

As you fastened the belt upon yourself, you observed as Alicent retrieved what appears to be a piece of parchment from her bedside table. The dowager hands it over to her father, whispering something to him that is intelligible to your ears.

Even as you move slightly closer under the guise of arming your steel, you are still unable to make out the sudden, and evidently secretive conversation being had between them.

You vow to sate your curiousity and confront Alicent about this later; after you have successfully delivered terms to princess Rhaenyra.

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Your arrival at Dragonstone was expectedly greeted with nothing but asperity– the threat of blood shed felt imminent as you stood on the bridge.

Your army, alongside Otto's, staring down the few men who remain loyal to the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra Targaryen has evidently fashioned these men to act as her newly appointed Queensguard.

The notion of an agonizing death looms over all of you as her large dragon remained perched a few feet away.

Syrax is silent– as if she possessed the capacity to understand the situation at hand.

You could sense the ground beneath you rumble every time the dragon took a breath, sending a never ending chill down your spine.

“You all are traitors to the realm.” Queen Rhaenyra declares, her late father's golden crown perched upon her head.

“King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Confess Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne.” Otto pauses, and Rhaenyra only acknowledges the statement with a scowl, before a hardened expression takes over her features once more.

You observed as Daemon scoffed. His grip on his steel continued to advise you to keep a firm hold on your own sword.

“In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son Jacaerys upon your death.” The Hand offers, generous in any other circumstance– if it was not Rhaenyra's birthright that has been stolen from her.

“Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holding of house Velaryon.”

“Your sons by prince Daemon, will also be given places of high honor at court. Aegon the younger as the king's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the king in his good grace will pardon any knight or Lord who conspired against his ascent.” Otto finishes, and the rogue prince is quick to retaliate.

“I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a king.” Daemon sneers, yet you notice Otto's resolve, he remains unfazed, confident.

One you utterly lacked, in truth. You kept an eye on a second dragon, red and much larger than Syrax, orbiting the sky.

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword, has the conqueror's name. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every single symbol of legitimacy belongs to him.” Otto claims, unwavering.

This works to agitate Rhaenyra enough, her Lord husband appears more than prepared to behead any one of you currently standing before him.

“Then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Houses who have also received and are at present, considering generous terms from their king.” The Hand adds salt to an already gaping wound.

“Stark, Tully and Baratheon have all sworn allegiance to me. As have your House, y/n.” Rhaenyra states, addressing you directly, taking you by surprise for a moment before you found the sense to meet her hard stare.

As you remain silent, Rhaenyra continues.

“I understand if you don't recall, you were still suckling at your mother's teats when your father bent the knee.” The Targaryen remarks, whether intended as a jab to your pride, it matters not, as you refuse to feel it.

“But he swore his allegiance to me, nonetheless.”

You shift your weight from one foot to another, hand resting on the pommel of your sword. “I am not here on my father's behalf.” You respond curtly.

“Then who are you here for?” Daemon inquires, he quickly continues before you can conjure a reply.

“Are you so cunt-stricken by that whore you call your queen that you are willing to abandon a sworn oath? Where is your honor?” He taunts, and this time you do feel it, like a lance to the gut.

You open your mouth to respond, but Otto quickly interjects before things get the chance to escalate further.

“Grand Maester.” He calls, extending his arm. Maester Orwyle then passes him a piece of parchment, the same one that you had witnessed Alicent give to her father in her bedchambers.

Your confusion sets in once more as Otto bravely advances forward, passing the same parchment to Rhaenyra.

The queen, in her fury, snatches it from Otto, unfolding it to discover its contents.

It was only then you noticed that it was not a letter– rather, an illustration. A page torn from a book.

“What the fuck is this?” Daemon curses, ironically sharing your sentiment.

Rhaenyra remained silent as she stared at the page in her hands, her expression still unreadable.

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. She eagerly awaits your answer.” Otto utters, and your face falls once you recognize the tears that escaped Rhaenyra's eyes.

A sinking feeling that you've been trying to set aside all day, re-emerges, inexplicably, you reach for your sword.

“She can have her answer now stuffed in her father's mouth, along with his withered cock. Let's end this mummer's farce.” The rogue prince hisses, as he unsheathes his steel, you immediately do the same.

In the next few moments the noise of metal scraping against scabbard charges the air as the rest of your soldiers along with Daemon's draw their weapons.

“Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure of killing him myself.” The prince consort's command is broken by the sound of Syrax shrieking, flailing her body violently.

You flinch, but do your best to ignore the incessant pounding in your chest as you gripped your sword tighter.

Then, by a miracle, Rhaenyra subdues her uncle with a single word. “No.” She declares, Daemon is forced to set down his sword. He does it begrudgingly, and you slowly do the same.

“King's Landing will have my answer on the morrow.” The queen utters sharply before turning away, disappearing through her guards.

You stand frozen in place.

Somehow, no blood was spilled today. The simple prospect of Alicent's care for Rhaenyra seemed enough for the Targaryen to forsake her own claim to the throne.

It appears you shall return to Alicent safely, as she asked. You should be relieved, and yet you feel nothing of the sort.

The thought of the dowager queen welcoming you home, with a warm embrace, doesn't fill you with a sense of joy like it usually would.

It only makes you ill.

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Since returning to the Red Keep you had chosen to keep away, sequestered in your quarters. Only your thoughts and a flagon of strongwine to keep you company.

You realize that you ought to visit Alicent, assure her of your safety, but still, you couldn't bear it, not today.

Endlessly replaying the moment in your head, Otto's words pollute your thoughts.

Alicent has not forgotten the love she once held for Rhaenyra, that much is evident.

So where does that leave you?

You are no longer certain you even possess a space in Alicent's life, let alone in her heart.

She loves Rhaenyra, and you are only a mistress.

You wipe away your tears, it is no use crying, you are simply mourning a fantasy. Queen Alicent is beyond your reach, she always has been.

As you continued to lose the battle to your anxieties, you fail to hear the main door of your bedchambers creaking as it gets pushed open.

Alicent catches you throwing your head back as you emptied the contents of your goblet. Her expression displaying palpable concern as she approaches you.

“Why are you drinking?” She inquires, and you scramble to your feet, perplexed in the way she somehow managed to enter your chambers without you realizing it.

“Your Grace.” You address her, inclining your head as you propped your hand against the back of the chair.

Alicent appears taken aback by your formality, nonetheless she moves to touch your cheek, but halts immediately when she notices the way you recoiled.

“What is the matter?” The older woman asks carefully, studying you with such concern that it weakens your very being.

How could she possibly place you above Rhaenyra Targaryen?

“I was convinced that I was going to die at Dragonstone.” Your voice breaks.

“But you did not, thank the Gods.” Alicent utters in relief, she grabs your arm, still unaware of your true grievance.

“The only reason my men and I were spared was because Rhaenyra commanded it as such.” You state, pausing for a moment to steady your breathing.

“and, she only did so because of you.” You accuse, and Alicent straightens her back, retracting her hand once more.

You mourn her touch, but force yourself to look into her eyes as you await a response.

When nothing comes, you decide to speak again.

“Do you love her?” You ask boldly, prepared for any response, but the one Alicent gives you is barely anything at all.

“I–” She stutters after a prolonged silence, and you scoff, moving past her to sit on the edge of your bed.

Alicent takes large strides after you, eager to explain herself.

“Rhaenyra and I, we were children together, we did everything together. She was my closest friend.” The dowager queen starts as she moves to stand directly in front of you.

“Perhaps I was in love, at one point. But that was an entirely different lifetime, y/n. A life I do not even recognize.” She admits, and you finally look up at her.

Alicent tentatively wipes away the tear that managed to escape your eye.

Despite yourself, your lips meet the palm of her hand as you hold it close to your face.

The dowager queen smiles.

“I am in love with you. Only you.” Alicent reassures, and your heart soars. Whether it is a lie to spare your feelings or a vulnerable truth, you are still thankful she cares enough to utter the words.

For now, that is enough.

“I love you too, so much.” You respond, still gazing up at her.

Alicent's auburn locks fell loosely down her shoulders like liquid fire. Her white nightdress, although modestly crafted, still managed to highlight every delicate curve and dip of her body.

She looks utterly breathtaking.

The queen snaps you out of your trance when she leans down to meet your lips with her own. A searing kiss that immediately leaves you breathless.

Alicent whimpers softly as your tongue enters her mouth, overcome with an urge to feel her, you place a firm hand on her waist, guiding her to straddle your lap.

The dowager does so with no protest, her knees quickly settling in between your hips on the bed.

Her core snug against your clothed groin, she feels so warm, so intoxicating.

Alicent grinds against your lap instinctively, causing you groan into the kiss. The queen seemingly overtaken with desires of her own, pulls away to begin trailing open mouthed kisses from the shell of your ear, down to your neck.

Your breathing quickens.

“Fuck– I cannot believe how perfect you are.” You say, and Alicent leans back to look at you. She does so comfortably with your firm hand supporting her.

“I am far from it,” She argues, and you are quick to shake your head in disagreement, guiding her close once more by the nape of her neck.

“You have no idea how ready I am to commit treason just to prove you wrong, my queen.” You remark, and the sound of Alicent's giggle fills you with hope for the first time in days, before she connects your lips once more.

As the kiss deepens your hand wanders the dowager's frame, almost like second nature, you slip it underneath her nightgown, feeling goosebumps form on her thighs from your touch.

You squeezed her rear, indecently causing Alicent to grind on your lap once more. Swallowing her gasp of pleasure as she does so.

“Y/n..” She utters against your lips, urging you on.

Soon you glide your hand towards her inner thigh, inching even closer to her core. “Can I?” Your ask is met with an eager nod. Alicent kisses you again, harsh and wanting.

“Touch me.” She says, and you do just that, finding your way to her sex. You begin to add pressure with your palm, causing Alicent's hips to buck against your touch.

She is dripping for you already– meeting your touch desperately. As you continue to move your hand against her sex, Alicent's gasps and mewls grow louder, she results in burying her face into the crook of your neck.

“Gods–” You marvel, kissing her shoulder before prodding a finger at her entrance.

The queen grips your shoulder tighter, nodding profusely as words continue to fail her.

You take it as permission to enter her. Doing so with two fingers, your breath hitches at the feeling of her walls contracting deliciously against your digits.

You would kill to feel her do the same around your cock.

“Yes, oh, Gods–” Alicent pants as you continue to pump in and out of her. Less than a minute has passed and it seems she is on the verge of release already, muttering incoherently against your ear.

She squeezes your fingers once more, pulling an involuntary groan from you, she is so wet you can feel her dripping down your hand, causing you to nearly soil your breeches.

“Come, come for me, beautiful..” You coax curving your fingers inside of Alicent, and that is all it took for her to fall apart completely.

She climaxes around your fingers with a cry, the sight of her writhing on top of you was truly the most captivating thing you have ever witnessed. You cock pulses with need, straining painfully against the fabric of your breeches.

Alicent's chest is heaving violently as she meets your gaze once more, her eyes dark amidst her pleasure.

“Thank you, for that.” She mutters before kissing you deeply, and you can't help but chuckle.

“No, my love, I should be thanking you.” You insist, and Alicent cares not to argue at this moment. Her lips meet the base of your jaw, a confidence overcomes her when she touches your breasts before moving her hand further south, squeezing your cock.

She gapes at the sensation, with a look of palpable arousal that again, nearly causes you to finish right then and there.

“You are so hard..” Alicent remarks in awe, squeezing you harder, earning a guttural noise from yourself.

“Yes, all because of you.” You confer, and the dowager bites her lip to mask her delight.

The sight drove you mad, as it always does. Quickly grabbing hold of her nightdress, Alicent allows you to lift it over her head.

You toss the garment carelessly across the room. Alicent moans anew as your mouth makes contact with her bare and sensitive breasts. You begin licking and sucking as though your life depended on it.

Another shudder of pleasure nearly immobilizes the Alicent before she grips a fistful of your locks, harshly pulling your head back.

She ground her hips again, her weeping sex pressing down on your hard cock.

“Please, I want to feel it inside me. I want to feel all of you.” Alicent pleads, and the prospect alone makes you lightheaded.

You don't plan to deny either of you the pleasure any longer.

Alicent lets out a yelp in surprise as you flip your positions, placing her flat on her back as you quickly remove your tunic, finally fumbling with the laces of your breeches before removing them as well.

The queen's stare falls onto the large shaft in between your legs, she reaches out to touch your cock, but you quickly grab ahold of her hand, pinning it against the bed as you settle on top of her.

Alicent whines in protest, arching her back helplessly, causing your breasts to press up against her own.

“Please,” The dowager queen begs once more, and you smirk with a sense of triumph, in this moment, you truly believe that Alicent is yours to worship and love entirely.

“So impatient.” You tease, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

If Alicent aimed to respond, she was not given the opportunity to, as you thrust your hips forward, skillfully sheathing yourself inside of her.

Alicent releases a strangled moan at the sensation, whimpering like a maiden as she grows accustomed to your size. Her nails dig into your back, she lifts her leg to wrap around your waist, inevitably pulling you even deeper inside of her as you begin to move your hips once more.

“Fuck– oh my Gods..” Alicent curses, motivating you to move harder against her, with every stroke, her cunt welcomes your cock eagerly. Squeezing your girth in a way you've never experienced before.

Alicent eagerly intertwines your hands, the intimate noises of your coupling filling the room.

You groan with every thrust, feeling dangerously close to your release, you kiss her once before speaking.

“Alicent, I– I won't last much longer.” You admit, and Alicent moans at your words, anxious to witness your release.

“Don't hold back, darling.” She coaxes, letting her leg fall away from your waist, you pump inside of her again and then once more before pulling out.

Alicent continues to hold your hand as your entire body tenses, she watches your strained expression as you reach your peak.

She gasps as your seed spills onto her belly.

Your breathing grows erratic as you ride out the shockwaves from your release.

The feeling of Alicent's soothing hand caressing your forearm manages to coax you back to reality.

Alicent chuckles lightly as you collapse next to her, attempting to gain your bearings.

The queen turns to face you, placing a lingering kiss on your stomach, before doing the same on your chest.

You smile weakly, threading your fingers through her auburn locks, still feeling as though you are in a dream.

One you never wish to wake from.

“I love you..” You declare, just above a whisper.

Alicent beams, her thumb tracing across your bottom lip. “I love you too, y/n.”

#alicent x reader #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower smut #rhaenyra x reader #g!p reader #g!p #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen

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mmogurl · 22 days ago

Text

Last to Fall Chapter 1 - My Demons

18+ | 10k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Maid / Dragonseed Reader | miserable, alcoholic, often dissociative, needs comfort Aegon | virgin reader, maiden, emotional abuse, first time sex, P in V, smut, wholesome, fluff, this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

This fic is heavily inspired by the infamous 'Nothing' scene with Aegon and Alicent. Her cold words and the way she lashes out really bothered me and I felt a strong need to stand up for him, protect, and console him. So that's really what this whole fic is about. Enjoy! Also went with a lot of musical vibing for this story. I started off listening to Collective Soul's Heavy, because I imagine it as Aegon's state of mind in the opening scene towards everyone and everything happening. And by the end we transition into Starset's Last to Fall - and the title of the fic. I know, I'm a sappy mf.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

Retroactive update 10/29/24: I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall) which was originally going to be a oneshot and got extended. I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - My Demons adding onto the two songs I already referenced here - but this one just felt so perfect!

Complicate this world you wrapped for me I'm acquainted with your suffering

All your weight it falls on me It brings me down All your weight it falls on me It falls on me

~Collective Soul - Heavy

—You

You have worked in the castle for as long as you can remember, always hearing the whisperings of the chamberlain, the laundress, and any other keep staff prone to gossip, that you were the late king’s bastard. There were always underhanded comments of jealousy uttered in your direction, like ‘It must be nice to have a king’s blood runnin’ through yer veins... To have yer needs met for life.’ In truth, you were worried that the Queen Dowager might see fit to dispose of you now that her husband had passed.

So far, it seems your fair looks, expertise, and agreeable demeanor has secured your position, at least for the time being, but you are not so naive as to think that will last forever.

You tended to King Viserys for six summers, and with his death you’ve been reassigned to serve the new Protector of the Realm, Aegon II Targaryen. You are mildly concerned about this development considering the rumors you’ve heard about the young prince over the years. Drinking and philandering to excess, he was rumored to be a true hedonist, only taking satisfaction when drowning himself in pleasure. It is for this very reason, that you’re surprised by your observations of your new lord within the first weeks of your employ as his chambermaid and general attendant.

You find he spends a lot of time sitting in near darkness with barely a couple candles lit in his room at night, kept company only by a carafe of wine and wearing a disassociated look on his face that could be taken for misery if it didn’t appear so apathetic in nature. It was as though he were actively trying to force himself into a mold that he would never fit into. This became even more apparent as you witnessed more of his interactions with his family, especially his mother and grand-sire. It seemed they were constantly trying to orchestrate the ruling of the Seven Kingdoms, nitpicking at every little decision Aegon made, pulling his strings just like a puppet.

You had listened from the sidelines of the Great Hall as the Hand second-guessed the king’s rulings. Even when the Aegon tried to embrace his seat upon the Iron Throne, he was made impotent by those not fit to govern. You could do nothing but stand by helplessly in saddened silence when he suffered the loss of his eldest son to assassins, while Otto Hightower forced him to parade young Jaehaerys’ corpse to the public along with his grief-stricken sister-wife, Helaena.

Day by day, your heart was beginning to ache for the emptiness you saw growing behind his amethyst eyes. And yet still he tried on most days to put a positive foot forward, even if by nightfall he usually turned back to engulfing his sorrows in drink. You couldn’t even blame him really given the complete lack of moral and emotional support the king had to endure.

This feeling of compassion built within you, until one day it peaked to a head as you made your way to Aegon’s chambers with fresh linens in hand, ready to fulfill your afternoon chores. You passed several Kingsguard as you made your way down the hall and paused outside the king’s rooms as you heard voices coming from within. The two white cloaks standing watch at the open threshold glanced at you in warning, so you simply waited with folded bedsheets in hand for the opportunity to complete your duties.

You knew you should not listen, but it was hard to ignore the distressed voice of the king from within, met by the indifferent attitude of the Queen Dowager. Oh no, you think to yourself sympathetically, she is at it again. It really did seem that tearing Aegon down piece by piece was not only a habit for his mother, but something she relished in.

“Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom,” Alicent’s voice echoed out against the vaulted ceiling of the room, her voice patronizing and condescending. “Those men at your council table earned their seats. It was my hope that once enthroned you would honor the burden of your new duties, be silent, and strive to learn from the more studied minds around you. In the hope that you might be half the king your father was…”

You tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat at hearing such baleful words. The king was not responding, and you could just imagine the pained look of agony that Aegon was sure to be wearing under the constant criticisms he faced as of late.

“Tread carefully,” you heard him say, barely carrying enough volume to hear from where you stood. You found yourself holding back a smile at that, happy that he was standing up to her for once. But, that only incensed the Queen Dowager more, her thirst to harm not yet quenched.

“Or what?” she says with venom coating her tongue. “You’ll hang me, as you did your rat catchers? Or have me banished as you did your Hand? I ruled in your father’s absence throughout his long illness, and Otto Hightower was as cunning a statesman as ever lived. You should humbly be seeking our opinions and counsel. You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.”

You shook your head, unsure how any mother could ever speak to her child in such a manner, let alone to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it bothered you so because you had never known the tenderness of a mother’s love, but had spent many a daydream imagining what it might be like. With your idealistic and sometimes naive mind, you wanted to think that there was more love out there in the world than this, especially within the royal family. You wanted better for the young king you had grown to feel so protective of in such a short amount of time.

Aegon’s next words break your train of thought, “Wha-“ he started with an exasperated tone, “What would you have me do, Mother?”

“Do simply what is needed of you,” she replied and the frosty chill of her cold voice was evident even from the corridor. “Nothing.”

You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes and try your best to ignore them. It was important as part of the castle staff to never appear to be listening, to always remain professional, but it wasn’t always possible when one was witness to such cruelty.

Quickly, you wipe the errant tears away as the Queen Dowager exits her son’s apartment, walking swiftly with a scowl on her face. With the king now alone in his chambers, you nod to the guards and head inside, pausing to close the doors behind you lest Aegon had wont of some privacy.

As you turned to face the room, the king sat off to the side of his table, leaning against the back of a chair, his head resting upon his hands in defeat. He did not stir as you entered and so you cleared your throat to let yourself be known. Aegon still made no move and so this time you spoke up.

“Your Grace, might I change the linens? Or should I come back later?” you ask, your voice hesitant, but filled with understanding.

He finally lifts his head, glancing at you for a moment before returning his attention to the nearly empty decanter of wine on the table.

“Fetch me some more wine instead,” he demands sullenly, and to this you nod and hurry off to fulfill his request. After what you’d heard him endure, you’d do just about anything to cheer him up now.

With a speed you did not think yourself capable, you retrieved, not just one, but two pitchers of strongwine for the king and prepared a small platter of snacks for him as well, consisting of cheese, crackers, figs, and grapes. You hoped he’d be pleased with your thoughtfulness, and sure enough, he did perk up a little at the sight of the tray you presented on the table before him.

Aegon got to his feet, walking around the chair he’d been leaning against and sitting in it instead. You filled his chalice and placed it before him, wearing an exaggerated smile upon your face, anything to lighten the onerous mood. The king surprises you when he actually notices, his composure faltering as he looks upon your benevolent countenance.

“Did you hear all of that then?” he asks, his jaw clenching slightly as he peers down at the crimson fluid within the cup before him.

“It is not my business, Your Grace,” you answer softly, not wanting to sound cold, but knowing it is not your place to comment on such things. “But, if I can do anything, or get anything more for you. Please just ask.”

“I never wanted to be be king, you know,” Aegon says abruptly, picking up the chalice and swirling the wine around inside it. “They hunted me down, forced me to be crowned… And yet, Mother tells me I do not deserve it, even though she has placed me upon the throne herself.”

You flounder with your words, uncertain of how to reply. Should you even say anything at all? Perhaps he just wants someone to listen who won’t respond with a scathing rebuke.

“She spoke of the rat catchers, bringing up the death of my eldest son as though it were nothing to me,” he continues without your input, staring into the contents of his chalice as though it might hold some insight. “She treats me as though I am nothing.”

He finally takes a long swig of the cup, emptying most of it in one gulp. Aegon sets it down on the table with a clatter of metal and wood, an almost despondent look on his face as he adds, “Perhaps I am nothing.”

“Your Grace, no! That is not true!” the words slip out, unable to hold back your feelings at his self-denigration. You immediately cover your mouth with startled surprise, knowing that you’ve overstepped.

Aegon halts, his shoulders tensing as his eyes drift up to you and his brow furls downwards in confusion. He regards you in earnest for what feels like the first time ever, his discerning gaze sweeping from your face, down to your skirts and back up again, sizing you up. “What would you know of it?”

You bite your lip anxiously, unsure of how to proceed, even though it seems by now that you’ve already gone past the point of returning to obscurity. Ultimately, you decide that if you’re going to lose your position within the Red Keep, that you’d prefer to let the king know how you feel first.

“I have seen how determined you are,” you say quietly, a lack of confidence in your voice as you address the king. “Even though it is obvious how much hardship you must abide.”

“I am the king. I do not abide anything,” he replies gruffly, but there’s no tooth in the words.

“Of course, Your Grace,” you reply as you cast your eyes downward, your posture stiffening as you stand more upright, waiting for the hammer of discipline to fall.

There is a pervasive silence that hangs heavy in the expansive chamber as you wait for the king to cast his verdict. Does he intend to overlook your impertinence or will he punish you severely?

You hear the trickle of liquid pouring and then the glass carafe clattering against the wood of the table. The sound of swallowing is audible, followed by Aegon’s lips smacking softly as he puts the chalice back down.

“Come here, girl,” he says suddenly in a low monotone.

You look up once more, hesitating; your eyes questioning as you try to understand his intentions, his expression inscrutable.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” he reiterates, his tone a little more firm, yet without the sound of malicious intent. “Come here.”

You gulp and step gingerly towards Aegon, standing before him as he sits in the high-back chair. “Yes, Your Grace?” you ask with an uncertain look on your face.

The king startles you when he turns his chair to face you, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you towards him in one fluid motion. Before you even realize what is happening, Aegon has his face buried against your stomach while his fingers dig into the fabric of your dress at the small of your back.

For a moment you stand there frozen in shock, your arms out as if in surrender, unsure of how to respond or interpret this intimate gesture. But then, you feel his shoulders shake quietly, and it's that movement that clues you in to the nature of the king's actions. He is crying, albeit in his own restrained way.

Slowly, you lower your hands down, one resting on his back as the other smooths his white locks back against his scalp. You can feel him melt into your affectionate touch, his entire body slumping forward even as he continues to whimper quietly into your apron.

“Shh,” you say softly, trying to comfort him in a way that feels somehow natural to you despite the gap in caste. “It will be alright.” You are not fully convinced that it will be, but the young king needs some reassurance and you know you are the only one likely to give it to him.

You have secretly longed for a moment such as this to occur for awhile now, wishing you had the opportunity to provide the king with some semblance of reprieve. When you served Viserys, he never seemed very troubled, and was almost willfully ignorant to the problems that plagued his family. Aegon on the other hand, was tormented not only by his mother, but by the pressure he put on himself to please everyone, which was an impossible feat.

To soothe Aegon now and hold him in your arms, felt like putting one of the many wrongs he’d endured right, even if it was only a small fraction of what the man was owed.

Your fingers rake through his wavy tresses and you feel a surge of raw emotion as you tend to the king’s needs in a way you never imagined you would. Soon, his shaky breaths and silent tears begin to cease, replaced by sniffles as you continue to soothe him in the way his mother should have been for all of these years. You can sense his reluctance to leave your embrace, but there’s also a shame weighing heavy in the air for confiding such weakness in a simple chambermaid.

He nuzzles his eyes against the fabric of your dress, wiping his tears on the brown cloth before he abruptly pulls away and clears his throat. Aegon avoids looking directly at you, embarrassment evident in his now red and puffy eyes. He lets out a heavy sigh and you’re left feeling quite dumbfounded as he turns back to his wine.

For a long moment there is a tense and overwhelming silence, the only sounds present in the room are the soft pouring of wine into Aegon’s chalice and the glass clinking as he sets the carafe down.

You stare at the side of his face, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the growing distance. It’s as if he’s punishing you for witnessing his vulnerability, desperate to maintain the barrier between king and servant. Despite his aversion, you can’t help but feel the significance of what you shared, the way he pulled you in and how good it felt to hold him close.

The quiet stretches on, Aegon now occupied with emptying his cup as if trying to fill the void with drink. He speaks up once more, his tone now devoid of any traces of the exposed emotion you just viewed.

"That will be all," his words are devoid of any warmth or familiarity. "I don't need anything more from you tonight." Aegon’s fingers tremble subtly as he brings his glass to his lips, betraying his cold facade.

“Your Grace,” you say in acceptance of his decision, bowing your head to show deference. You turn and glance at the linens still stacked on top of the king’s bed and fret for a moment that you will get in trouble for not fulfilling your duties and changing the sheets. “Should I change the bedsheets before I leave?”

Aegon doesn’t even turn to face you, his eyes fixed on his chalice. His expression is closed off, distant, as he responds with a simple grunt of confirmation.

“Yes, yes. Do whatever it is you usually do,” he mutters dismissively, his voice lacking any real feeling. He lifts his cup to his mouth once more, drowning himself in the bitter taste of the wine.

You nod with the typical words of respectful assent and begin making the bed as you always do, except this time it feels different. Today you flew so very close to the sun and felt your skin bask in its heat. The absence of that warmth now leaves you feeling chilly, an overwhelming nothing replacing the typical humdrum of your chores. You can feel his presence in the room like a beacon calling you to shore, but you dare not approach him again.

When you finish your task, you leave the king’s chambers without saying a word, closing the door behind you as silently as you can.

For the next few days, the typical royal indifference that Aegon shows you is substituted for complete and utter disregard. He at least showed you a degree of quiet appreciation before, but now it seems he’s going out of his way to make it known that you do not exist to him. Aegon always keeps his eyes turned from you and makes no acknowledgment of your proximity, giving the impression that you are little more than a ghost.

Gone is the care-free spirit that the king usually possesses, always trying to pretend that he is happier than he actually is, at least when you are around him. It seems that Aegon erects a wall of guarded apathy the moment he becomes aware of you, sometimes so severe that you can actually see him transition into a frown at your approach.

You find yourself slinking around quietly whenever you must occupy his room at the same time that he is present. The mornings are especially tense, when you must bring breakfast and fresh wash water for his basin. Sometimes, you feel his eyes on you when you’re preoccupied with adding wood to and stoking the fire, but you try your best to ignore it since you can’t make heads or tails of his behavior.

For the most part, you attempt to finish the majority of your duties once the king has left for the day and not before that point. You hope that in time, the king will forget about what transpired between the two of you, and that everything will revert back to how it was.

—Aegon

Aegon has made a concerted effort to maintain his frosty disposition towards you. It’s a constant battle between his heart, which secretly admires and yearns for you, and his head, which refuses to acknowledge the vulnerability he allowed you to witness. Even still, he can’t help but feel a slight pang of sadness whenever you try to slip in and out of his chambers undetected, nor can he control the surge of resentment when he feels that he might need you in any way.

The king simply doesn’t know what to make of the tangle of emotions that twist inside of him whenever he sees your face. It’s as if the memory of his shortcomings and your comforting embrace is a fresh wound that refuses to heal. He wants to shove you from his mind, but your image is permanently branded on the backs of his eyelids.

Even his nights have become restless, with no amount of drink or pleasure helping to ease his troubled heart. In fact, he’d already tried visiting one of his favorite brothels, dragging along his drunken friends for the chance to brag at how loud he could make the women scream. He was so distracted by thoughts of you that he couldn’t even stay hard and had to call it a night without release, defeated even by the the carefree abandon of a whore’s cunt.

The only thing that helps him drift off to sleep lately is recalling the moment he shared with you, and imagining how it might have gone differently if he had not pulled away from you. His hand enveloping his rigid cock, stroking it eagerly as he envisions what it would be like to reach under your skirts and feel the heat at the apex of your thighs. The resulting climax is strong, but it always leaves him feeling ashamed and guilty afterwards, as though he’s given into an urge worse than the crudest of debaucheries.

It’s becoming more and more obvious, that no matter how much he denies himself, he wants you in an unbearable way. He wants to reach out to you, wants to apologize and thank you for your soothing care. He wants those arms wrapped around him once again, that gentle hand running through his hair. He wants to confess all of his troubles to you. How he is tired of being treated like a child, of being scolded and slapped around by his mother, and never being taken seriously by his own small council. Aegon wants to hear the solutions you might propose to his growing list of problems, instead of relying on the wine that he drinks to excess more often as the days pass, an answer that he knows is mere avoidance.

And so, the king finds himself at a crossroad, facing a decision that can’t simply remain unsettled. He can either choose to embrace his feelings for you and allow himself the chance of experiencing the compassion he so badly craves, or he can continue to repress those feelings and bury them under the weight of his own self loathing and fear.

At the end of another long and monotonous day, he finds himself sitting at the end of his table in the very same chair where he had shared a moment of weakness with you. He sighs as he pours himself another cup of wine, the burgundy liquid not doing much to take the edge off tonight.

He shivers slightly as gooseflesh erupts over his pale skin. Glancing out the window, he can see that the skies are grayer than usual and that autumn is settling in over King’s Landing. Aegon begins to worry as he considers the already dwindling food supply and the civil war that is ravaging what little they have left. His grand-sire and mother both seem to be ignoring the constant plight of the commonfolk, but he’s spent enough time amongst them to know that revolt might loom on the horizon.

The large wooden doors to his chamber suddenly open and his attention is drawn from the window, snapped to the form now entering the room. It is you, his chambermaid, carrying a bundle of blankets. You stop dead in your tracks as you notice him sitting in the dwindling light of the gloaming hour.

“Sorry to disturb, Your Grace,” you offer sheepishly. “I didn’t know you had already retired for the day.”

Aegon turns his chair outwards, sitting sideways as he leans an elbow against the table and lifts his cup to his lips, taking a sip of his favorite sweet Arbor red. He doesn’t acknowledge your apology, and instead regards you with a steadfast gaze as he tries to hide his conflicting feelings.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone tinged with disinterest.

“It’s supposed to be chilly tonight,” you answer with a soft voice. “I wanted to bring you some extra blankets and build the fire up so that you are comfortable.”

“Hm,” he grunts, taking another swig of his wine. He doesn’t respond more than that and simply watches as you begin to lay two massive quilts upon his bed, then approach the fireplace to add more wood and stoke the flames. Even now you were doing your best to take good care of him, doting on him as though he were your very own husband.

He can’t help but discreetly study the shape of your body as you kneel before the mantle, appreciating the way the firelight projects shadows over your kneeling figure. The flickering orange light bounces off your face and he can’t help but notice the softness of your features, the curve of your cheek and lips. As you rise back to your feet and turn to face him, he’s finally made his decision.

Perhaps it is time to lay these fears to rest.

He sighs softly, his shoulders slumping somewhat with the release of breath, as he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Sit,” his word is quiet, almost a whisper.

You look at him perplexed as though you did not hear him properly, an apprehension soon settling in as you hesitate to respond.

There is an air of determination in his eyes as he nods once more, encouraging you to sit. His voice now holds a trace of insistence as he shifts in his seat, sitting upright as he repeats himself. “I said sit.” Aegon points at the empty chair once more, his gesture sharper this time.

You oblige him swiftly at that, taking a seat in the ornately carved high-back chair, your legs are pressed together and your hands fidget awkwardly on your lap. Aegon reaches forward and grabs an empty chalice from the silver tray before him, pouring you a glass of wine.

“Here,” he says, his voice strangely calm in your presence now that he has finally given in to his wishes. He hands you the cup across the table, his fingers brushing against yours for just the briefest of moments. He relishes in the heat of your touch, no matter how fleeting, and offers a clumsy smile. “Have a drink with me.”

You take the chalice reluctantly, the anxiety of such taboo evident in your expression. Aegon knew it was unheard of for the staff to share a drink with members of the royal family, but it was also not typical for the king to be denied anything he desired either.

“T-thank you, Your Grace,” you offer appreciatively.

Aegon settles back into his chair, his posture becoming more relaxed as he spreads his legs. He takes comfort in the fact that no matter how much he has tried to avoid you, that you still humbly show him gratitude. That small act of polite civility has him convinced that what he is attempting will not end in rejection.

He raises his cup and toasts to you, a courtesy which seems so simple and yet holds so much significance when coming from a king. “To your service.” His eyes gleam in the fading light of day, bright with unspoken promise.

“I don’t even know what to say, Your Grace,” you squeak out in embarrassment, your face impossibly red as you direct your gaze away from him.

He can feel his confidence returning as he sees the flush of color bloom on your cheeks. It’s a sign that his attention is not entirely unwelcome, and that thought alone is enough to make his heart beat steadily in his chest.

Aegon leans forward, trying to capture your attention once more, his eyes pleading for you to look at him again. After so much time evading this very situation, he now feels hungry for it.

“You don’t have to say anything at all,” he reassures you, his tone softened but with a hint of authority as he motions for you to drink your wine.

Without wavering, you grasp the heavy brass chalice in your hands and with courage etched in your features, take a long draught of the Arbor red.

As you drink, Aegon raises an eyebrow in mild surprse, watching as you take a rather ambitious swig of strongwine. He finds he’s actually impressed with your ability, and his expression soon transforms into a smirk of amusement.

He takes a sip from his own chalice before setting it back down on the table. “You drink deeper than many of my knights, I can tell you that,” he jests with a good-humored ease, testing the boundaries of this fledgling dynamic.

Your cheeks blush once more although this time it is likely due to the wine as well as your timidity. “This is much better than the swill the staff typically has access to,” you offer almost apologetically, as though it were not proper for you to imbibe in your spare time.

The admission has the corners of his mouth curling into a grin once more, and a breathy laugh escapes his lips. It’s clear now that the two of you are finally making progress, the barrier of propriety quickly falling away as it typically did with drink.

“So you mean to say you enjoy good wine, yes?” he teases lightly, tapping his fingertips against the edge of his cup, his gaze focused on you, eager to see your reaction.

“I am enjoying it, yes,” you say with bright eyes, your guilt beginning to fade away with each sip of sweet wine you take.

Aegon can sense the increased ease in your demeanor, and is delighted by the sight of it. He knows that the alcohol has broken through the tension that’s been building between the two of you for days now and he plans to take full advantage of it, feeling even bolder in his pursuit of you.

“Good,” he replies gladly, feeling content with the newfound freedom he’s allowed himself. “Then have some more,” Aegon adds, his tone light and playful as he pushes the decanter of wine closer to you, encouraging you to fill your own cup. He can feel a pleasant buzzing in his head from the strongwine, and can tell that you aren’t far behind him.

“Is Your Grace trying to get me drunk?” you ask, a surprising riposte that he didn’t expect from you.

The question has Aegon laughing aloud, the sound hearty and full of mirth. He leans closer, sliding his elbow further along the table as he offers you a grin. That little spark of humor you show only heightens his own sense of urgency to be in your arms once more.

The king rests his chin on his fist, and raises a brow at you with a mischievous grin. “And what if I was?” he replies playfully.

“Then I’d have to ask to what aim?” you say holding onto your cup, your finger tracing the circular rim of it.

Aegon’s gaze is drawn to your fingers, following the movement as his pulse quickens. He can hear your question, but it fails to register fully as he’s momentarily lost in a daydream of those same fingers running across his skin. His mouth goes dry and his skin feels hot. He finds he must take another large draught of wine to calm the sudden surge of longing that courses through him.

“Well,” he says, his tone feigning seriousness. “Perhaps I intend to get you drunk so I might take advantage of you.”

Aegon is surprised when you chuckle in response to his daring assertion, having expected more of a demure reaction instead. “You would not have to ply me with wine for that,” you admit, lowering your head slightly as though realizing how direct your words had been a little too late.

His eyes go temporarily wide as he registers your brazen honesty, wondering if he’d even heard you correctly. “Do you jest with your king, girl?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” she offers adamantly, with all the defiance of a loyal hound. “I’m afraid I’d be quite willing.”

“Is that so?” Aegon says more for his own confirmation than to communicate it, his eyebrow raising with dubious intent.

His stiffening cock was becoming uncomfortable in his taut breeches and he couldn’t help but consider the irony that such an innocent encounter had taken on an incredibly sexual nature. The comfort you had offered him becoming like an intoxicating fuel to his loins, making you far more attractive than any other woman could ever possibly be in his eyes.

“And what would you be willing to do in order to satisfy your king?” he prods further, feeling confident that he has the upper hand now. His desire to claim everything you have to offer now undeniable.

“I-I,” you begin to stutter nervously, clearly not expecting such a blunt response from him. “What is it you wish of me?”

Aegon let’s out a sharp huff of delight at the question you pose. To his great joy it seems you truly don’t realize the effect you have over him right now. He stands from his chair, sending it backwards with the backs of his thighs. His legs then carry him around the corner of the table until he’s towering above you, looking down upon your trembling form with a burning hunger.

“The real question is.. What don’t I desire of you?” he poses the question with a lurid tone as he thumbs the neckline of your bodice. “I believe you’ll find me quite insatiable in my needs.”

You’re frozen in his sights, appraising him with frightened doe-eyes, but there is no mistaking the undercurrent of lust also hidden right below the surface. Likely, the only true trepidation you have is the thought of performing such acts out of wedlock, but it seems obvious to Aegon at least, that you should have no concerns when offering your virtue up to a king. And given the poorly state of mind he’s been in as of late and desperate weakness he has for you, it’s possible you might even be assisting in the betterment of the realms.

“You’re speechless,” he hums softly, running the back of his knuckles over your bare collarbone. “Don’t worry, I will do the talking,” he says with a smirk, delighted to hear that he sounds every bit the authoritative ruler he should. “Take my hands,” he commands softly, reaching down as he grasps you and encourages you to rise from your chair.

When you obligingly follow his orders and rise before him, Aegon then guides you, leading you towards the bed. He stops once the backs of your knees hit the wooden frame, which is now padded by many layers of newly laid quilts, and turns you away from him. His hands carefully unfasten your apron, tossing it over the footboard before he starts to work at untying the laces of your dress. He loosens them swiftly until your bodice hangs slack.

He’s very well practiced in the art of removing a woman’s clothing, whether they be a whore, a noblewoman, or even a servant as is your case. Still, he holds a certain fondness for you, a consideration that he does not offer readily to most of his conquests. You have given him something so valuable, a treasure that no other has even thought to bestow upon him, and he means to reward you well for it.

Aegon finally removes your dress, pulling it over your head and placing it on top of the apron. All that remains now is a long sleeved undershirt, a slightly more drab version of the sort all women wore under their dresses. He’d like to rip it from your body, but you’ve stirred up such tenderness within his empty heart that he is loathe to treat you in such a way.

Instead, he turns you to face him once more and takes a step back to regard you. “You truly are beautiful,” he states with a sort of quiet awe. He had never really noticed you before and he most definitely should have. What with your cornsilk blond hair and bright blue eyes. Was he really so oblivious to the people and the world around him that he couldn’t even notice such a stunning, caring maiden working directly under his nose? Had he always been avoiding any state of mental clarity and missed so much in the process of hiding from himself?

You look at him nervously, your body antsy as you shift uneasily, precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.

“Sit,” he tells you in a hushed tone, not quite wanting to sound as bossy as he does, but trying to relieve you of your discomfort. He takes another step back once you have complied, his gaze now roaming your body, taking in the sight of you, or at least what he can see in that loose potato sack of a frock you’re wearing. Aegon can definitely make out some of your feminine curves though, the slope of your shoulder incredibly pleasing as is the way your breasts protrude noticeably through the fabric, and so too do your wide hips.

He smiles warmly at you, his eyes taking their time to appreciate the woman before him. He can’t help but ponder in this moment, how he’s never felt this way before, a lust that isn’t just physical in nature, but somehow more genuine. Aegon is no stranger to carnal pleasures and strongly desires to claim you in every way possible. But there is something more present in his heart as well, the wish to hold you close and protect you from the entire world, and to in turn be sheltered by you from the chaos of the Iron Throne.

Aegon decides then that he wants your first time together to be gentle, just as it was when you first came together. He closes the distance between the two of you and reaches out with both hands, grabbing softly on either side of your shoulders. Your soft, supple flesh gives pleasingly beneath his fingers as he guides you to lay down on top of the blankets. As you scoot backwards across the width of the bed, he can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction that you were finally in his bed and no longer a fantasy inside his mind.

Once you’ve nestled into the plushness beneath you, he steps back again, his fingers making quick work of removing his woolen doublet. A flush of excitement blooms across his alabaster skin as he makes a show of the action, enjoying the way you watch him with such focused anticipation. He casts the garment to the floor, now removing his boots as swiftly as he can.

With his breeches already half undone and his chest exposed beneath a simple linen shirt, he is gifted with the sight of you lying in his bed in wait. The image is far more pleasant, far more intimate, than any other woman he has ever taken to bed. Your warmth radiates outward like a blazing fire and by now he is desperate to feel your heat directly. He practically rips his undershirt off, flinging it sideways across the covers.

Aegon makes his way back to you, lifting one knee up onto the mattress and crawling over the entire length of your body until he is face to face with you. His hand cradles your jaw tenderly, caressing up and down until his fingers slip up into your long, flowing tresses.

His intense, violet eyes fix upon yours, looking for any hesitation, but he sees none. It was as though you had been given to him as a gift from the gods, you who always gave and never took from him. There is a vulnerability in his expression that is rarely visible, replacing his usual display of smugness.

He maneuvers his breeches down without much effort, kicking them off once they’re low enough. Now fully settled into the valley of your spread legs, Aegon then grips the hem of your shift, lifting it up your thighs until he feels your body tense. He glances up at you and sees a pang of worry present that is perfectly normal, especially for a maiden.

The king asks the question he’s sure he already knows the answer to. “Have you done this before?”

You shake your head no as a blush of pink covers your cheeks and you bite your lip with pent up longing. Even with your inexperience and worry, he can tell how eager you are regardless. Much like he had been warring with his own thoughts about pursuing more with his chambermaid, you seem torn between your fears and your desires as well.

Aegon smiles sincerely, brushing his thumb gently along your lower lip, before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss. It was a bit of a selfish wish of his that you were untainted by any other man, and a part of him was happy to hear that you were indeed a virgin. It made him revel in delight; knowing you were his alone, that he’d be your first and your last if he had any say in it.

“Relax,” he whispered parting from your lips. “I’ll go slowly.” Aegon gazes at you again, wondering if this is perhaps too much for you, too soon. “That is if you still wish to.”

A look of panic crosses your face, as though you’re worried he might stop. “N-No! I still want to!” you affirm urgently. Your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer to you, seemingly unwilling to let him go.

The king can barely contain his elation as he presses his forehead to yours, chuckling slightly at your eagerness. His hand slips beneath your undershirt and he slowly strokes the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers grazing over the warm plains of your flesh. Aegon’s breath hitches as he travels higher up your abdomen, finding the pliant curve of your breast.

You moan softly beneath his greedy touch, your body writhing with fervor, and your hips rising impatiently to meet him. Any question he had that you might not be fully keen about this joining was now all but diffused by your enthusiasm.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he teases playfully, feeling a sense of satisfaction at how responsive you are to his touch. He gives your breast a firm squeeze, then teases over the sensitive areola before cupping the whole mound again. His cock throbs painfully against the mattress, still bound by his smallclothes and yearning to sink into your heat.

His pulse pounds with expectation, finally feeling a sense of relief from the pent up desire he’s held for you all of this time. Aegon removes his hand from under your shift, propping himself up on the bed as he reaches down to unlace his braie. His hand brushes against your core in the process and he shivers at the feel of how wet you already are for him.

With his stiff length finally freed, he ventures a finger along your folds, growling at the silky slickness of your center. “Gods,” he utters with a groan. His cock twitches with need as he tests the tightness of your cunny, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he imagines thrusting into you with his thick member instead of his digit.

“Are you ready for me, girl?” he asks eagerly, the question a soft inquiry as well as a warning of the impending pain his intrusion is likely to cause. At this point, he feels more like a lovesick boy than the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, his suspense heavy as he drapes your leg around his his hip, opening you more to him. He positions his head at your entrance and presses himself closer to you.

You nod, never taking your eyes off of him as you wrap your hands around his back. Aegon rests his weight on his elbows, covering you completely as he kisses you with tenderness. He tries to express everything he feels for you with actions instead of words, his lips hungrily devouring yours with passion. Without breaking the kiss, he begins to ease into you slowly, immediately feeling the resistance of your still in tact virtue.

His arms slide down, gripping your hips on each side tightly as his chest presses into yours. You let out a whimper into his mouth as he breaches your depths, your thighs clenching against his body at the sharp pain of his invasion. It doesn’t take long for you to relax again, your walls suddenly more welcoming as the sting subsides.

Aegon parts from your lips, pulling back slightly so he can look down at you. A smirk forms on his face as he sees your lurid expression and he begins to move, his hips rolling against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. His hands slide down to your thighs, spreading them further apart as he thrusts himself deeper inside you. He groans with overwhelming pleasure at the feel of you, his head falling forward as he picks up the pace.

He kisses you again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as he continues to move inside of you. His tongue dances with yours as he begins to lose control, his hips snapping against you with intensity. Aegon can feel his release approaching quickly, unable to hold back for much longer, he tries to hasten you along to satisfaction. His hand slides up your shift once more, squeezing your breast and tweaking your delicate nipple until it pebbles between his fingers.

You squirm under him, incapable of holding still as he drives into you with increased enthusiasm. The king grinds his hips into you relentlessly, grimacing at the way your walls tighten around his cock like a vice. Aegon’s grip on your tit becomes harder, flipping between gripping and tweaking your sensitive nipple. His lips withdraw abruptly, his mouth searching out your other breast and nipping it through your undershirt.

He grins against the cloth as you cry out loudly, your body rigid as your climax rolls over you and soon he can feel it wash over his length as well. But, he can’t take it anymore, not how tight you are or how creamy your release feels on his tender cockhead. It’s all too much and within a moment he is gripping hard to your flesh and burying himself deep within you, his spend erupting in spurts from his pulsing member.

“Fuuuccck,” he growls out, his hands finding their way beneath your back and pulling you towards him securely, trying to get even closer if that was at all possible.

You pant below him, trying to catch your breath as little spasms continue to twitch throughout your back and your thighs tremble against his hips. A warm, blissful calm settles over him as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply of your scent. He feels pleasantly dizzy, his heartbeat finally slowing as the haze of lust subsides.

Aegon sighs into your ear, the tone content and relaxed. “That was incredible,” he murmured softly, his voice low as he gently runs his hand along the side of your cheek.

“It was,” is all you can manage to say, your breath still a bit ragged as you try to come down from the high.

Your hand finds its way into his white hair again, brushing up against the nape of his neck and causing him to shiver. He’s once again reminded of the shared encounter that started all of this and he’s overcome with a fondness that makes his chest ache.

Aegon feels closer to you in every possible way now and isn’t keen on the idea of parting from you, but he can feel his cock softening and the mess beginning to pool on the sheets. So he slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto the bed at your side. He grabs one of his stray garments without looking, probably his smallclothes or maybe his shirt, and cleans up his seed from you first and then himself.

He adjusts towards the head of the bed, resting on his side against the pillows and reaching out for you to join him as he scuttles under the covers. “Come here,” he says softly, pained by the loss of her warmth.

As you get up and crawl towards him, he scoops you up into his arms. Aegon holds you close, his chin resting against the top of your head as he wraps the quilts around your form and presses himself tighter against your back. The king can no longer deny the depth and the power of his feelings for you as you cuddle in his arms. There’s a sense of deep security and comfort welling up within him, but any words seem inadequate in this moment.

Aegon kisses your temple, the doting gesture unlike anything he’s bestowed upon a lover before. “I think I’m going to sleep quite well tonight,” he muses into your hair, still cradling you in his arms.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to stay with you? In your chambers?” you ask quietly with seemingly no clue how ridiculous he thinks you sound for asking such a thing.

His mouth twitches into a small smile and he lifts his chin to press another kiss into your hair.

“Of course. I’m the king. I can do whatever I want,” he quips playfully, his voice sounding drowsy and relaxed as he settles into the plushness of the bed. “Now, come. Get your rest. You’re going to need it.” There is a gentle warning present in his tone that you do not seem to catch, that he intends to have more of you in the morning.

You nod, twisting your back towards the mattress until you’re facing him. The expression you give him is enough to make his heart melt, those big, blue eyes like deep pools filled with bottomless love and devotion. You wrap your hand behind his neck and pull him close for a kiss, a request he’s more than happy to oblige.

Your mouth is sweet and hot against his and he can’t help but to lick the line of your lower lip before parting from you. Aegon settles you back into place, his chest enveloping your smaller frame as he holds you possessively. He feels such solace in the close proximity of your body, his limbs toasty warm as he falls into a deep state of relaxation. He’s not even aware of when the moment he falls asleep, it happens so quickly.

—Aegon

When the first light of day streams through the window, Aegon finds his eyes drifting open and then closing again, not sure of what time it is, but too comfortable to want to move. His back feels incredibly warm with the slight dampness of sweat and he opens his lids once more to see your arm wrapped over his chest. He can feel your hot breath at his neck now that he’s paying attention fully and your leg slotted between his.

Aegon’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, basking in the near domestic feel of waking up like this with someone he actually cares for. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours as he rests his own arm on top of yours.

He tries to settle into his pillow once more, nuzzling his backside into you further and bending his knees more deeply. The peace is short lived though as the doors to his chamber fling open and he hears the startled gasp of a woman. It couldn’t be just any woman, like perhaps another maid come to clean his room in place of the one that never showed up for work. No, it had to be his mother, of all the people he did not wish to see this morning.

The king whips his head over his shoulder and squints in the direction of the door. His mother stands there with a hand over her mouth, frozen in horrified disbelief as though she’d just seen a ghost. Aegon grits his teeth, sitting up with a jolt, forced to realize just how compromising this situation must look with the way he was tangled in bed naked with you.

“No, no, no, no, no, Aegon!!” she practically screams at him and the sound jars you from your slumber. He wishes you could have stayed asleep, to have escaped the madness of his family for just a little longer.

Alicent picks up her skirts so she can walk swiftly around the bed and to his side, standing there with a judgmental sneer. “This is just like Diana, isn’t it!?” she cries hysterically. “Isn’t it!?” his mother prods him further.

Aegon looks back, catching your shifting uneasiness from his peripheral vision, then turns to his mother again, suddenly feeling very protective of you. You are innocent in all of this and should be afforded the ability to wake up from your first time making love in some semblance of calm, not to one of his mother’s outbursts. And of course the first thought she would have of him was that he had raped yet another servant girl. His mother was blissfully ignorant of everything he had done as a young man, except for the acts she felt the need to berate him for, even though she had never been around to offer any kind of proper guidance.

He lets out a groan of exasperation, running his fingers through his mussed hair and tries to think of an answer that might satisfy his fuming mother, but he knows this is a lost cause.

“No,” he denies, shaking his head as he avoids eye contact with her. There is no conviction in his tone, but it’s not like she would ever believe a thing he said on the matter.

“So it was consensual then?” the Dowager Queen asks glaring past Aegon and looking straight at you.

He glances to his side and sees you nod, but interrupts before you can say anything more. “You do not have to explain yourself to her,” he says in a much softer voice, trying to shield you from his mother.

“So, she’s just another one of your tramps then!” Alicent hisses with disgust. “Is it so hard for you to keep your hands off the staff? Can’t be bothered to go into the city anymore, you need to make sure you find your pleasure within the walls of the Red Keep?” Her words are vitriolic and hateful without any attempt to understand the situation.

“I should have gotten rid of your father’s little bastard when I had the chance. I should have known better that she would be too pretty for you to resist, but I was assured that the girl’s skills were tantamount to any risk,” she continued on her tirade, barking out every spiteful dagger she could think of.

“What of your wife!? How can you carry on like this!? Oblivious to the people you hurt!?” the Queen Dowager prattled on, not waiting for an answer, but seemingly wanting to preach her conclusions endlessly.

“You know Helaena’s fallen deep into sadness ever since Jaehaerys died. Ever since you forced her to endure that disgusting funeral procession through the streets of the city.. And it’s not like we ever had a deep connection even before that, Mother.” Aegon’s voice was bitter, resentful. He was sick and tired of this farce of familial love when she barely ever showed him any hint of it.

He’s incredibly shocked when he hears you speak up, your voice quiet, but accusing, even defensive, “You’re one to talk, Queen Dowager. You hurt Aegon more than any other.”

“How dare you! You insolent wretch!” his mother didn’t hesitate to bite back, her acrimony potent in the air. “You can consider your employ here ended. Gather your belongings and leave!” she looked at you impatiently, as though expecting you to stand immediately and go. “Now!” she snarled, her nose crinkled with anger.

“No,” the king interceded on your behalf, stilling you with his hand on your hip. “You will not go anywhere.”

“She absolutely will go! This is not acceptable behavior for any chambermaid in the employ of the royal family!” Alicent was insistent, with no sign of backing down, but Aegon had enough of this contest of wills.

“Mother!” he bellowed at her furiously, finally snapping back at her with conviction. “I am the king and you will obey me!”

That finally got her attention, for the first time in his entire life he saw a flash of fear in his mother’s eyes and it only emboldened him to continue.

“You will not do a thing to this girl. She is under my protection,” he added, his ruling absolute. “And if I find that you have touched her, hurt her in any way, then I will have you hung. Just like the rat catchers.”

Aegon’s lips curl upwards in smug satisfaction, finally realizing a fraction of the true power he held as sovereign of the realms. His mother did not respond, regarding him with silent malice, her glare ever testing the limits to see if he truly meant it. When she saw that he did, his mother backed down, her shoulder slumping slightly as she relented, but not before getting one last dig in.

“Very well, My King,” she mocked with false sincerity, giving him a sarcastic curtsy. “I will leave you to your dalliances. I should know better than to interrupt a man having his fun.” She left in a flurry of resentment, slamming the door behind her with a loud thud.

No matter how furious he was with his mother, she still remained his parent, the woman who gave him life, whom he loved and had once revered above all else. Even this victory he had over her felt hollow, and he realized that even when he won, he still lost in one way or another.

He turned to you, his expression a mix of concern and tenderness. Aegon stroked gently at the side of your cheek, wanting to make you feel safe again after you’d been forced to tolerate the full brunt of his mother’s wrath. He found you to be more resilient than he’d ever expected, already sitting up and staring at him with a knowing look upon your face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say softly and almost instantly he feels something within his chest fracture.

It might have been the facade he always wore cracking, how he always projected an image of indifferent merriment so none would know how truly miserable he was. It might even have been the very fact that you had suffered insults by associating with him and yet you were still concerned about his well being.

Aegon can feel tears welling in his eyes and when you spread your arms out towards him, he doesn’t hesitate to crash into you. He buries his face in your comforting bosom and finally allows himself to fall apart in your embrace without shame. It’s probably the safest and most accepted he’s ever felt in his entire life and he knows now that he won’t ever be able to exist without you.

As you rake your fingers through his silvery locks, his tears dwindle until he is left relaxed, sated by your validation that his life is not as easy as everyone might think it is. He listens to your heartbeat as his fingers dig firmly into your back, making sure you can never leave his side. It’s a mercy, that you don’t seem to mind how clingy and needy he is. If anything, you seem born to mend his wounds, a soothing balm to his troubled soul.

You lean back against the pillows and soon Aegon finds himself drifting asleep against you. As his aching eyes begin to close, he can’t help but hope that he never disappoints you. He’s so convinced that he is a failure from the constant disparagements he’s endured throughout his life, that he can’t even fully enjoy you without worrying that he isn’t worthy of you - that you might leave him.

As if reading his mind, your hand massages gently along his scalp, cradling his head closer to your breast. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Aegon didn’t know how you could possibly promise him such a thing, but somehow hearing you say it aloud makes him actually want to believe it.

Read Chapter 2

And will you be bold Will you lose control? I could never desert you I could never let go If you fall in line And the zenith calls I'm standing waiting The last to fall

~Starset - Last to Fall

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eraenaa · 10 months ago

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My Knight in Darkened Armor (Royalty AU)

Knight Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Ser Aemond Targaryen has been tasked to be the sworn protector of a princess who is overly curious about life beyond the castle walls and has bribed him to escort her to the city in exchange for anything he desires. She just did not know that what he desired was her.

Word Count: 4,373

Warnings: Mature, 18+, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, jealousy, possessive

Carnival—your favorite time of the year. The only chance for you to leave the cushioned walls of the keep that your father was intent on keeping you in. Sheltered and stored— protected and preserved. You now marvel at the scene outside. Merriment in every corner, cheers and hollers everywhere your carriage passed. “Stay close to your knight… danger lurks even in the happiest of days,” your father warned. You mindlessly nod as you smile at the outside world that you were rarely given a taste of.

As you stepped out of the wheelhouse, your knight in his ever-dark armor waited for you. His hand led out to escort you toward a tent in the middle of the town square. The performers were ready to entertain you and your King father, as well as the others who merrily celebrated the day. “Enough scowling; it is the most joyous of days,” You said to your knight. Ever since he was assigned to you, he had been overly serious— overly protective. Entirely strict and hard to be rid of, never leaving you out of his sight, not even for a moment. His eye always trailed and followed your every move in case the danger you doubted would occur finally happened. “It is as well the most dangerous of days there is, princess.” He answered stoically. Eye passing through the crowd, searching for any threats.

“You often speak of danger, but there is clearly none. Try to enjoy yourself… you are still a man who feels under all that armor, yes?” You asked, your gaze flying upwards to the knight who stood by your right. You gazed up at him, searching for his eye through visor. When you locked upon his unique lilac eye, you dare say you saw a hint of mirth in them.

When the performances began, you lost yourself in the scenes before you. Actors that were so greatly gifted in their talents, for they have managed to sway your mind and made you believe that all the stories they told were true. However, at times, you would hear Aemond scoff his disagreement at a scene. You were glad of his annoyance and disagreement because it meant that he as well, did watch the performance.

When it was time for your father to name the victorious performers who had the most believable presentation, the king stood, and Aemond, along with another knight, stood behind him in protection—leaving you to be faced with their backs, finally unattended. As all citizens had their gazes planted on their king, you, for the first time in your life, did something you were not supposed to do. You indulged yourself and escaped their almost suffocating hold disguised as protection and safety. You have lived in your kingdom for seven and ten years, but the extent of your knowledge of it was the mere castle walls— you intend to change that matter, and you intend to see the kingdom you were to inherit when the time comes.

Aemond moved his head behind to look upon you once more, but he felt his stomach pit as the seat meant for you was now empty. The cloak you wore as you exited the wheelhouse was gone as well. Aemond turned to the king who now realized you were now gone. “Find her quickly.” The king gritted, hoping none notice your escape, fearing that his sheltered child would be made a prey by the small folk. “Now!” The king roared, and Aemond quickly ran to his steed and searched for you, the princess.

You walked the streets of your kingdom, your hood covering you from exposure. Everything was almost so unfamiliar to you, but you find your blood spiking in thrill for all the experiences you were yet to discover. You watched as a group gathered, and your curiosity led you to them. You felt your lips twitch as men used pots and mere objects to produce music. Your gaze went towards the young man in the middle, singing a different and new tune that had captured all’s attention and ears, even yours. His hazel eyes scanned the crowds that swayed upon his song. His hand moved to comb his brown locks, and he winked at a group of girls around your age, making them squeal and blush. You watched as others moved and gave them coins, appreciation for the music they performed.

When their song ended, the group that surrounded them dissolved little by little, and that was when you decided to offer your appreciation as well. Bending down to offer two silver coins, hoping it would serve as motivation for them to continue to perform such a great song. You kept your head low and did not engage with anyone, but still, you were noticed. “Hello,” the young man with a melodious voice greeted. Your eyes moved to look upon him, who gazed at you, trying to make out what you covered under your hood. “Hello,” You said as well, un certain on what to do. “I… I hoped you liked our performance; if you did, we have another one tomorrow night,” he said, still trying to see your face clearly. “I did… it was quite good,” you answered and tried to back away, but a stray dog that passed behind you made you trip and start to lose balance.

Luckily, the young man before you was quick to take hold of your arm and pull you steady. But in exchange for your balance was your cover, your hood falling back and revealing your face. You feel your cheeks heat as realization comes to the hazel orbs of the young man before you. “Your hi—“ You quickly shook your head and shushed him, “Please, don’t,” You said and raised your hood once more, warily looking around to see if anyone else saw you. “What are you doing here? Your hig—“ The young man whose hold still has not left yours tried to call you upon your title once more, but you gave him a pointed look that made his words die on his tongue, a look of sheepishness coming to his face.

“What is your name?” You asked, “Jacaerys,” He answered. You smiled and gave a nod, “I wanted to see the city. They rarely let me outside castle walls,” You explained to the stranger; it was not smart of you, but there was something about him. Something warm and a sense of trustworthiness that made you tell him the truth. Jacaerys raised his brow, “You escaped your guards?” He asked, and you slowly nodded. Before either of you could speak again, you heard the furious gallops of a horse. And almost instantly, your body knew who was to approach. You and Jacaerys turned to see your sworn shield cutting through the crowds in search of you. You thought about running, still wanting to see more, but it was too late as you felt the familiar gaze of his lone eye upon you.

“Remove your hold on the princess, Jacaerys,” You hear him call menacingly. You furrow your brow as to why he already knew the young man’s name. “Un—“ Aemond raised his hand and silenced the boy. Using his other hand to pull you to him. You had no room to argue or plea as you felt Ser Aemond’s hard and rough hold upon your waist, lifting you to mount his steed. You watched as your knight moved closer to Jacaerys, bending down to whisper something in his ear. You watched as the boy’s face grew pale, but you could not voice out your concern or ask if he was well because Aemond moved to mount his horse, sitting behind you and swiftly galloping away. You sat in silence and almost fear as Aemond had his arms around your waist, the two of you riding towards the castle where your father waited with a sermon.

“Is he angry?” You ask your knight as you neared the castle gates. Hoping he would slow his steed down so you would not be delivered to your punishment so soon. Aemond smirked at your question, taking a deep breath and savoring the smell of you. He let his horse gallop slower, wanting to prolong the time he had you in his arms for a while more. “You escaped during the most crowded day of the year— where all people from the entire kingdom… thieves, murderers, and criminals could go about in plain sight. What do you think, princess?” He asked and kept his smirk as he heard you puff and lean your back to his chest. “You’ll be fine; we both know your father is very lenient when it comes to you,” Aemond tried to console you as he saw the adorable pout on your pink lips. His mind filled with a thought he should never entertain.

You stood before your father in his study. Head hung low in shame. He had not said a word yet, simply stewing in his anger, but you already feel tears welling in your eyes. You hear the creek of his chair as he stands, and that is when the first pearl tear escapes your eyes and lands on the floor. You hear your father sigh, “I have yet to say anything why then do you already cry?” He asked and made you lift your gaze. “I’m sorry!” You quickly said. You could not bear it when he was cross with you; just the slight tone of disappointment in his voice and the look in his eyes was enough for you to cry for forgiveness. “I just wanted to learn more about our kingdom— I wanted to see how our people live and what they do.” You reasoned. That was your main goal when you slipped away. You were only distracted by the song Jacaerys and his group performed.

You looked upon your father, teary-eyed, watching him sigh and shake his head. “You will do no such thing again, do you understand?” He asked sternly, and you quickly nodded your head and left his study when he dismissed you. Outside in the hall, your knight waited for you, ready with a handkerchief to wipe away your tears. “Thank you,” You said quietly, and Aemond gave a nod. His helmet was finally removed, and you could see his straight silver hair gleaming in the evening light. You’ve always been jealous of his hair; you’ve always wanted to run your hands through it, but it was deemed inappropriate, so you never could.

When he accompanied you to your chambers, you had a question in mind. “How do you know Jacaerys?” You asked and paused in your tracks, looking before the knight who had a forever serious look on his face. He stayed silent for a moment, but you kept your expecting gaze upon him. “He is a very distant relative,” He finally answered, and you gave a nod. “Why did you not say you are acquainted with a performer— a good one at that? I have been looking for entertainment. Perhaps Father could invite him and his group to sing a song of two here,” You mused and watched a scowl start to spread on his face. “It is best not to, princess.” Ser Aemond answered. You frowned at the animosity in his voice. “Why not?” You asked. Aemond clenched his jaw at your questions and intrigue upon his nephew. “Good night princess,” Aemond said as you were now before your chamber door. You frowned as he avoided your question but ultimately sighed and entered your room, knowing he would not answer it.

The following day, as you broke your fast, you found yourself humming the tune you heard the day before. Your mind reminding you of the invitation said that Jacaerys and his group were to perform once more that night. You chewed on your lip as there was a part of you that wanted to watch and escape again. You stared at your knight, who stood still at his post, wondering how to escape him.

Aemond gulped and urged himself not to waver as he felt your steady gaze upon him. He felt his knees grow weak with each passing moment you kept your brilliant eyes on his frame; he felt himself grow warm by the look of concentration on your pretty face. “Is there something you need, princess?” He finally asked. He watched you blink, plush lips parting before him, indecent thoughts plaguing his mind. “I…” You began. Watching as your sworn shield walked closer to you, his imposing demeanor enveloping you. You quite liked that about him— how petrifying he looked and acted, but with the year he was assigned to you, you saw through the cracks of his cold and hard armor, and it revealed softness and warmth. “Can you come with me to the city t—“ You could not even finish to word out your request as he was quick to shake his head. “No.” He said decisively. Aemond bit his tongue as a dejected look came to your eyes, and your lips formed the unconscious pout you always had when things did not go your way. “Please— I swear I’ll behave. I w—“ Aemond sighed and shook his head once more. “No. If your father ever heard about me sneaking you out of the castle— he will have my head.” He said, but you only disagreed. “He won’t! I swear of it!” You said, but your knight only scoffed and rolled his lone eye in disbelief.

“Please! I’ll give you whatever you desire if you take me to the city tonight,” You tried to bribe him. Aemond clenched his jaw as your eyes widened, begging him to agree. His mind, as well, did not miss the bribe you clearly uttered without shame. But he was more shameless, for he agreed. He felt his heart stutter as you beamed at him, bouncing in your seat in joy; his eye caught as your ample chest heaved when you did the action. His mind running with thoughts, his body turning alight. Aemond cleared his throat and returned to his post and willed himself to be rid of such disgraceful thoughts.

Aemond swallowed hard as he had his hand clasped around yours. Him guiding you through the crowded streets of your kingdom. “Your hood,” Aemond warned, pulling you closer to him. He reluctantly brought you back to the street, where you watched his nephew perform. He felt enraged over the fact that the only reason you wanted to leave the castle walls and rebelled against your father’s wishes was to see his bastard nephew perform. He placed you and himself behind the crowd. You urged him to go closer, but you were refused. “I have told you we will not engage with anyone.” He sternly warned.

You did not miss the animosity in his voice once again and how his scowl was deeper. The performance was starting, a folk song made by their group, but your attention was on the knight whose hold now traveled to your waist and held you close and tight to him. “Why are you angry?” You asked. His eye scanned around to see if there was danger. “I am not,” He answered. “You are,” you insisted. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he saw his nephew you spot you two, moving towards the princess in his grasp. You let out a sound surprise as your knight started to drag you through the streets once more, ignoring your call as he made furious steps that you could not quite match.

“Aemond!” You called, and he finally halted, pulling you towards a dark and narrow alley. “Why did you want to watch him? Why did you want to see Jacaerys again?” He asked furiously. You stared wide eyed as you had never seen such fury in his eye. “I…I,” you stuttered in slight fear. “You were willing to endanger yourself— willing to let your father grow angry with you once more, all for him? All for Jacaerys?” He seethed, and you started to see a familiar yet foreign emotion in him. “Are you jealous?” You dare ask. His face was so close to you that your breathing started to mix, and you could see clearly the scar that ran down the left side of his face. “No,” He said unconvincingly after a moment. You raised your brow, “You were fine escorting me out of the castle walls earlier… but once you learned that I wanted to watch their performance, you grew irritable… are you jealous, Ser Aemond?” You asked even though you knew the answer.

Aemond narrowed his eye at the speck of amusement in your orbs. His face threaded closer, and only now did he grow aware of how flushed your bodies were against each other. He felt his eye flash dangerously as he caught you licking your lips as you gazed at him with your innocent eyes. Your plush pink lips parted again, and the thoughts he tried hard to suppress and ignore were now the only thing on his mind. “You owe me something, princess,” He instead said, pushing his body closer to your frame that was backed up on the alley wall. “I have taken you to the city… now you must give me something that I desire.” You swallowed at the deep tone of his voice, at the dark look in his eye, and how he trapped you to your place with arms. “And… and what is that do you desire? Coin? Something valuable and pretty like jewels, perhaps?” You asked. You watched him smirk and lightly shake his head. “Oh… it is very valuable— overly pretty as well, but no, not jewels, princess.” He whispered. You feel your heart stutter, your breathing caught in your throat as his face inched closer. “Then… then what is that you want?” You asked. You watch him smirk, his hold on your waist growing tighter. “You.” You whimper as his lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, punishing, and soft.

Aemond wanted to scream at himself— hinder himself, and declare himself mad for doing such actions. To kiss the princess that he had sworn an oath to protect. But as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening your kiss, he could not be bothered by his sensibilities. He could not be bothered by propriety as your lips danced against each other. Clinging and never wanting to part. “Oh, Aemond,” You called as you parted for air, but the knight would only let you take one breath before intertwining your lips again— to be lost in pleasure again. “Tell me you want me too,” Aemond almost begged as he parted your lips again. You gazed up at him, lilac eye hopeful and wanting. “I want you, A—“ You could not finish your sentence as he took hold of your hand again and started to pull you out of the alley.

Your mind was dazed as you followed him, as you let him take you wherever it was. It took you longer to realize that you were inside castle walls once more, nearing your bed chambers. He turned to you; his wanting eye filled with lust slowly started to be filled with uncertainty, but you shook your head. He had managed to stir something within you, a burn, a coil inside that made you grow crazed.

You pulled him to your chambers, “I did promise you that I’ll give you what you desired,” You whispered and stood to the tip of your toes to kiss his lips. Your hand searched for his and guided them to undo the laces of your gown. He called upon your name, uncertain as he reluctantly parted your lips, but you shook your head. “I want you.” You said. It was the truth; ever since he was made to be your sworn protector, you could not help but be attracted to him. Him and his handsome scowling face. Him and his cold and rough but gentle touch. Him and his unique platinum hair and alluring lilac eye.

You heard him groan, and you feared he would leave, but you smirked as he placed his lips against yours once more and started to undo the laces of your dress. “On the bed, now.” He ordered, and you obeyed quickly. You were now only dressed in your shift— sheer and light. You were positive he could see every single trace of your being.

You sat by the edge of the bed, anticipating what he was to do next. You blushed as he started to remove his clothing. “Have I ever told you how pretty you look when you blush?” He asked, and that only deepened the color in your cheeks, eliciting a chuckle from him. You feel your heartbeat spike as he walks closer to you, your knight now only dressed in his trousers—a prominent bulge in the middle called for your attention. You sighed as he kissed your lips again, his hand coming to take hold of yours, doing the same as you did, guiding your hand to rest upon the dent in his pants. “Do you feel what you do to me, princess?” He asked, his lips moving to kiss your neck, his hand guiding you to stroke his length. You could only let out a small moan in response.

You took in a harsh breath as Aemond moved you to lie down, anticipation coursing through your veins. “Are you certain?” He asked as his lips hung above yours; you nodded and met his thin lips to be lost in his sweet kisses. You whimper as his hand moves to cup your tit, giving it a firm squeeze, the bud growing taut upon his touch. His other hand stopped guiding yours as it moved to your thigh, him caressing the limb and teasing you with every boring touch.

“A—Aemond,” You called; you wanted more. He hummed and gazed upon your eyes. His right hand is palming your tit, and his left hand caressing your thigh. “Please,” was all you could say, but it was enough as you watched him sink to his knees. Hands are moving to part your legs, bringing more wetness to your cunt with every action he took. “Oh gods,” Aemond breathed as he was met with your cunt— needy and calling for his touch. He shoved away his hesitancy and fears and did what he knew he should have done long before— claim every single part of you. Ruin you for any man, prince, or king to come.

You cried out his name as his lips met with your cunt. Licking, sucking, and nibbling the sensitive skin. Bringing pleasure in all he did. “More,” You called, your hands losing themselves in his hair, finally gliding your fingers upon the silky strands. “Aemond, please— I need more,” You pleaded and whined as he ignored your call, simply continuing his torment on your needing bud and his teasing fingers upon your entrance. “Beg harder, princess.” He hummed, smirking at your cunt as you shamelessly did what he said.

“Please Aemond… I want you— I need you to-to fuck me. Claim my maidenhead; I’m all yours.” Aemond turned rigged upon your words— searing pleasure enveloped him upon your words. He had never heard you so foul, so lewd— so desperate. And it was all for him. You feel your heartbeat stop as he finally moves atop you. You gasped as he ripped away your shift, leaving you bare and perfectly positioned for him to take you. You feel your eyes water as his length, thick and long, starts to break its way through. Aemond closed his eyes tightly at how you felt. You were so tight and warm; the pleasure you provided was almost painful— completely overwhelming him. “Just a little more… you’ll be a good princess and take all of me, yes?” He murmured against your neck, feeling as the tears glide down your eyes. You could only nod and hope the pain would be quick to turn into pleasure.

“So fucking tight—so pure… all for me to ruin,” He growled as his length was finally fully sheathed inside you, finally feeling every single inch of your body. Your breathing turned labor as he thrust slowly, the pain finally turning to the blinding pleasure you sought. Aemond let out an amused breath as he watched you roll your eyes back in complete pleasure; your bite on your lips was so harsh that Aemond feared you would draw blood. “Does my princess like that, hm? Do you like being fucked like a common whore?” He gritted through his own pleasures. Your moans were answer enough. “Louder— let the entire kingdom hear how your knight pleasures you,” Aemond smirked as you still did what he said; neither cared about being found. In reality, he would prefer it, for it will bind him to you.

“Aemond— oh gods, I…I,” you could not find your words as you felt your insides painfully coil, wanting something you were not quite certain of. Aemond hummed and moved his thumb to draw circles upon your nubbin, letting the coil grow tighter. You writing against him, desperate for something you have no words for. “Are you to come, my princess? Are you to come by the pleasure of my hands and cock?” Aemond asked and smirked as you lost yourself, as you could only comprehend his pleasurable actions. He let out a groan as you clenched around him, painfully and pleasurably so. Your knight is on the verge of release as well. His rhythmic and savoring trusts turned sloppy and desperate. “Come and scream my name, princess.” He ordered with one long final thrust of his cock and flick of his thumb. You coming undone by his touch. His groans mixed with yours, neither of you weary as his seed filled your cunt.

He collapsed atop you as both of you came down from the highs of your release. Five words leaving his lips, an oath that he will keep for the rest of his life. “You’re all mine now, princess.”

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blingblong55 · 1 year ago

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Little red riding hood- König NSFW

Based on a request:

Can I ask for a werewolf König with red riding hood reader and maybe age gap if you’re comfortable with it? And knotting and breeding kink if that’s also allowed Red is a witch in this if that’s okay since it’s October ☺️.Red is in her 20’s while I think König if I’m reading it right, he’s like late 30’s? I could be wrong.Red follows the tale of the story, but what if in this one, Red and König knew each other? Like he was her guardian angel for her growing up, and they were like friends of being outcasts; König being the Big Bad Wolf and Red for her red hood and for being a witch, all because she lives out more in nature then in a village but is their only known healer so they tolerate her. They always say that wherever Red went, the Wolf followed as to make sure Red was never harmed, lurking in the woods. But then, a mysterious woodsman/huntsman appears in town; and he helps around. Goes into the woods to chop trees and hunt; but it is secretly König posing as a man as to avoid suspicion but to also get close to Red 👀 _____ F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, monster au, werewolf!könig, age gap, witch au, witch!reader, unprotected!sex, friends to lovers, P-in-V, breeding _____

A/N: It won't be as extensive as I wanted but I hope you enjoy and im sorry for posting this a day late

A small home in the woods, where a young witch lived, and a neighbour far away that became her friend. You and he became friends when he first introduced himself. Ever since, he has become your protector, friend and guidance. But with time, that sense of protecting you just because you were his friend changed. Infatuation for some. Love, respect and honesty for him. He wasn't normal, that was known and you weren't very much liked, that is a fact. But why don't you get the townspeople to pester you? You heal, and anyone in town sick comes to your small home for healing. No pharmacy in town, just the same old hospital and you. Yes it's true, while no one likes you, they respect you and your abilities to heal others.

It has taken time to get used to this newfound fame, but with König around to help and protect, life is great. And now as you made your way to the dark forest for another special herb for a healing session in the morning, you pulled the hood of your cloak on your head. The red material disguises you in the woods. This is perfect for the man who follows you like a shadow, a new stalker you swore was out to harm you. The dark magic protects you from it when it knows you don't know it. As it doesn't protect you from this mysterious creature, you begin to fasten your pace. König not with you this time scares you. "For the souls, help me," you whisper as you begin to sprint. A tree that you recognise in sight. "König," you remember and turn a sharp right, running towards the only haven besides your home.

Your wicker basket in hand, the plants and book moving with this quickened pace. You knock on his door, it takes time but when he opens it, he is in his human form. "König, there…there was a man- or thing…and-" you try to explain. His large form moves you inside, he smiles, knowing he has his precious thing with him now. "You're safe now, liebe," he whispers as he holds you in his arms. Your basket is now on the ground of his cabin, the cosy walls surrounding you both from the cold breeze and fog of the autumn season. The moon was almost full as it was the 30th of October, almost his time of turning. He pulls away and cups your face in his large hands, he chuckles to himself at this beautiful view. "Now, why don't you and I sit down and talk, ja?" And as time passes, he walks you home. Hallow Eve in the coming minutes, you with a journey to your grandma. He kisses your forehead and disappears in the night.

By morning, as you take your baked goods to the one lady who kept you sane, you see a lumberman, axe in hand as he walks through the woods. You stop in your tracks, as far as you are concerned, no one in town took trees down from your property. König at his home as you stared at his man. Figure more rougher than any man you've seen. Hallows hour is approaching soon, and your grandmother needs your protection at that time. You continued walking and then the man turned to you, scarecrow mask on, you know this wasn't normal. Everyone in town knew not to mess with you, for the man with the howls was behind when his precious girl came to town. With a hand on the dagger the old witch crafted, you never give this mysterious man your back as you walk past and before you make it to the sacred gardens, he chases you with the power most men can't possess.

König, you think of. He was not near, nowhere as near as this man posing as a noble lumberman. You can't drop the basket in fear that your potions and book will be stolen and used against yourself and the greater good of others. Three claw marks in a tree of where König left his mark. A haven, his home much closer as possible. The early morning fog made the ground nearly visible. "König!" you scream in hopes of having his ability to hear it all and listen to you. You run and run, the red cloak dancing with the wind like a willow tree.

Once you make it to him, you knock and knock, calling for him in desperation. It was the oldest trick in the book for dark, smart and in need-of-love wolves. To court and how to make it fast. "For heavens my Liebling, what's the matter?" he asks with a soft tone, breathing trying to slow down. "It happened again, but this…this time the man chased me with-…i..an axe and- well." He shakes his head, inside spirit smiling like the devil. "I'm here to protect you, my liebe," he kisses your forehead and acts as if he is determined to kill the man. The hoax is well done as he has you vulnerable and scared, all for him to use against you and kiss you and make you his finally. Your arms holding him close, he chuckles knowing that the woman he loves finds comfort in him. He kisses your forehead over and over, and guides you to his bedroom to, 'let you rest' but it's all part of his plan to make you, his.

They say to claim, is to leave a mark, and König intended to do just that. His scent on your red cloak, your dress and the basket you carried with care. His gaze softens, but his touch is rough as he lays you in bed. "Now, why don't I show you how good I can take care of you?" One nod from him and another from you has him removing the unnecessary clothes. There was something different in the atmosphere, he felt it and you know you can feel it too. "König, I-" you say but his finger flies to your lips. "Let me show you I care," his voice was still so soft but as time kept getting closer, that soft voice would turn to howls and hoarse words. He kisses you, you kiss him back, which he smiles to as he knows you feel the same way…finally. No longer does he have to lure you into his home, he can have you come here, willingly. The lumberman character is lost in the woods as he gets lost in you.

His hands are on your waist as with his thumb he lifts your dress, and you squirm. "It's okay, I won't hurt you, I want to please you," he tells you. You know it's not an empty word he ushers but honesty. Your body soon to be his, your love and devotion, written in time as his. His bulge, with a wet shadow as his pre-cum leaks from just this contact. You un-do his trousers, he looks down and then at you, "You want it that bad, don't you?" A devil smirk on him again. "I need it," you tell him. He pushes you deeper in the bed as his kisses become rough, trailing to your jaw and neck, he growls and time ticks. It's a countdown. Poets and other simple writers, all authoring about a woman in a red cloak, afraid of the big bad wolf, to have it debunked by you and him. Covered in lust and deep in love. His cock is ready to pump you full of his seed. He needs to breed your pretty pussy that drips the taste of heaven. Your hands fly to his back, he lets out a groan.

"That's it, baby, mark me," his hands fly to your cunt, fingers it and licks his fingers after. "Just like I predicted, heaven from you," he kisses you once more, this time so you can taste glory. His cock, in a desperate need to fuck itself into you, slowly lets his tip in. You moan, he was big, thick and already so red and swollen for you. Seconds pass and now, as his werewolf self comes to play with his prey, his heavy cock spreads you open. You whimper and cry. "That's right darling, keep making those pretty noises for me," he kisses you, and you moan into it. His large hands on you, claiming every last bit of you as his. His thrusts are like this form of himself, animalistic and wild. Your body and his, in unity, as he claims that cunt of yours. Your clit, rubbed by his large hands, your eyes rolling back. Thrusts so good it turns you into a blabbering mess. His dark laugh melts you, he loves this view of you.

Your orgasm building up, your pussy wrapping around him like a perfect glove. He groans and grunts. It was art for what sex can be. To have your cunt, spread and filled with his fat cock, it was art. Your hands, marking his back, he lets out a growl, his beast cannines on view. "Don't. Fucking. Stop." He adores how he claims you and you do him. His hands fly to your neck as he chokes you and as his moans and grunts fill the gap between you and him. And just as you were already riding your high, you feel him, his cock grow within you, creating a nest inside of you. The art of sex and knotting your mate, a plan he knew all too well. Your eyes leak with tears, tears he helped create as he proves to you, that love is not emotional at times but physical. His cum, leaking from your cunt that was already filled to the brim. "You like it when I breed you like that?" This is a not-so-innocent question that will be asked throughout this relationship. "You like it, I know my little whore does," eh kisses you, and thrusts slowly as he plans on keeping his cock in you for some more time.

A/N: I apologise if this wasn't good or how it was requested...sorry

Tags:

@bigtimesalt8196 @alxexhearts @kit-kats06 @greatstormcat @crimson404deer @liyanahelena @sleepydang @arithestrawberry @l0calfatherfiiigure @sigrid666 @killshotcodxxx @potatoknight @scarletevening @elowynnlane @brazen-haze @rinsworld @briefartnaturewolf @rnangoes @ess-perspective-blog @jihyowl

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girlwiththoughts13 · 3 months ago

Text

Where there's a Will

Daemon Targaryen x F!reader

Warnings: Incest/ P in V /infidelity/ Age-gap

Word count: 1k

~~~~~

The Iron Throne. It was coveted by all, from the lowliest knights to the highest born lords. Who sat down on the chair of swords was more than ruler. They were a protector, and to protect you must be strong. The late King Viserys was not strong in any sense of the word. He allowed leeches to squeeze through the cracks in his home and feed off of his blood and weakening reign. Allowed them to rip the Targaryen heritage and culture to install the gods of common men; symbols and emblems that would shame Aegon the Conquerer.

Though for all his treasonous faults there was a level of respect that had to be given to Otto Hightower for seizing every opportunity to propel his house forward. Whoring out his only daughter to the aged King in the interest of ruling behind a figurehead child of his own blood.

It was the perfect scheme, until Viserys named his daughter Rhaenrya as rightful heir of the 7 Kingdoms, a claim he steadfastly upheld even after the birth of male heirs.

How marvelous you'd believed it would be. Rhaenrya would have struck down structures that were In place to clip women's wings. Would have shown mercy when deserved and serve justice when necessary. The small folk would rejoice at her Queenship. She would intimidate the highlords of Westeros and rebellion would not be a known word. In your mind this was the Queen your lovely mother would be.

The Greens usurpation of the throne crumbled that dream. The hope of the great leader extinguished before your eyes. You watched for days as your mother reverted into someone you did not know. Frail and scared. It stirred something within you, that had not been there before. Took root deep within and fed off of your darkest desires. One that gave the promise of eternal glory.

The loss of a child could not be easy for certain. You yourself had not felt the grief you should have. No stirring of sadness or longing in your gut for your little brother. Not like Jace. It scared you as well as excited you. There was no weakness to be found and the prospect of an indestructible mind and heart was eagerly accepted by you. Aemond Targaryen's crime should have been answered swiftly and without mercy, alas all your mother could do was cry, losing herself to anguish. Get up! You wished to say, Focus!

Now was the time to strike show the false King and his court what true dragons were made of, fire and blood.

Control on your own treacherous thoughts were slipping, and left only the question, Could I be Queen of the 7 Kingdoms?

You would be one day anyway, as the firstborn, as the true born daughter of Laenor. What's the difference between then and now?

Your mother would have to die however, and you couldn't do that.

At least not alone.

Daemon was easy to convince, soul and heart already corrupt. You came to him like a dream unruly sliver hair and donned in a sheer iridescent nightgown. Whispers of greatness flowed from your pouty lips right into his ear. Face full of innocence and intention anything but.

You continued to spew your sweet poison as you rode him on the seat by the fire, the flames heating your already blazing skin.

He reached his peak with the thought of him as King with you by his side swollen with his babe. A conquerer in his own right.

Like your grandsire, you enjoyed sculpting the key parts of the realm, the only thing you shared with the frail man. Your most recent replica being the throne room. It's here in the safety of your chambers Daemon finds you fiddling with the chair you shall take soon.

He comes to stand behind you, his hands smoothing up the expanse of your arms pulling your back flush to his chest. Seasoned warrior that he is, his body is hard and unmoving compared to your soft pliant one, a perfect foot solider he will be.

Daemon nuzzles his head into your neck inhaling deeply "I have missed you". His time at Harrenhal left him craving your most willingly body. You're aware he views this situation much differently. Possibly believes that he has manipulated you, lead you down a dark path. A pure swan tainted so irreversibly. Not at all the still waiting dragon that you are. Ready to sink your teeth into his skin and drain him for all he's worth. You know he loves you or as close to love as he can feel. Do you return that sentiment is another issue because, of course not, he's your mother's husband, your step-father and uncle. You're strategic not vindictive.

Only your mother felt the need to be above Daemon and try her hand at triumph without him. He was a fool with a sword but that sword in his particular hand could bring down mountains. You needed him, for now. With your gentle guiding you had him believe your wants and ideas were his own.

You turn your head to meet his eyes. "No more than me" you sigh and lift your chin to claim his lips with your own. His hands tighten around you, trailing all around your body stopping here and there to grope you. Giving a pinch to your breast, a clutch around your neck. He pulls way to place his hand at the middle of your back giving a shove forward, you go easily. He flattens you over the table. He brings his hand from your back down to where the hem of your nightgown ends meets your exposed thigh. he bunches the material to your hips. Letting out a shudder at your lack of clothing underneath.

You hear from behind you the unlacing of his trousers, you keep your eyes trained on the figures ahead. The column, the banners, the throne. So small they could fit in the palm of your hand, but the longer you stare willing it to come to fruition the more the scene is happening before you. Your being enthroned and the highlords and ladies kneel before you, the small folk shout your name from outside the castle walls, you hardly feel the push in of Daemons cock in your own walls. You hear him grunt and groan behind you, rutting inside you wildly like a brute or the animal he is. He doesn't notice your lack of sounds to lost in his own pleasure, Daemons view of your backside hides your lack of lustful expression replaced with one of resolution one of assurance.

Your body is jostled up and down, Daemon's hand finds its way into your hair before trailing down to the back of your neck keeping you there while your eyes never falter from your soon to be rightful place.

The Iron Throne.

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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projectionistwrites · 2 years ago

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FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 3

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Jake Lockley x afab!psychologist!reader (13.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, doggystyle, spanking, mean!Jake, degradation, dacryphilia, daddy/papi kink, cum eating, creampie, soft sex, needy/touch-starved!Jake, praise kink, dirty talk), lots of spanish NOTES: jake lockley deserves so much love. this was hard to write, i had so much i wanted to put into this chapter and i hope it all came through okay. also, i am not a native spanish speaker, but i worked really hard to make sure all of my conjugations/phrases were correct, but still, feel free to correct me! this is the final case study installment of this series, there will be one final concluding chapter (+ potentially a bonus part bc i’m feeling generous) DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: JAKE LOCKLEY

ROLE IN COGNITIVE SYSTEM: Protector

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Dismissive

CHARACTERISTICS: volatile, tenacious, arrogant, cunning, reticent; a true adrenaline junkie (engages in risky behavior in an attempt to fill his emotional deficit with a brief but intense adrenaline rush); extremely autonomous.

SPLIT FROM HOST: ??? currently unknown/unconfirmed (predicted to have emerged as a result of some feeling of physical inadequacy or repeated threats to safety; may potentially trace back to host's service in the military).

TRAUMA RESPONSE: thinks every hill is one to die on; unwilling to compromise or make sacrifices in fear of revealing vulnerability; maintains face no matter the consequence.

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: demanding, excitable, impetuous, unapologetic, aggressive; unafraid to take what he wants, but uncomfortable with affection.

Your heart was picking up speed as you knocked loudly against the door for the fifth time.

Surely he was inside. Where the hell else would he be? You’d texted with him just hours before—well, technically not Jake, since he refused to use a phone, but Marc—confirming that you were still good for your previously scheduled arrangement. Had he changed his mind? Did something happen?

Your anxiety got the better of you as you fished around in your jacket pocket to pull out your keyring. Steven had given you a copy of the key to their flat in case you ever needed it, or if you wanted to come over before he got home from work. You had yet to actually use it, but you figured this constituted as enough of an emergency to warrant your uninvited entrance.

You clumsily slipped the brass into the keyhole and jiggled it, twisting it until you heard the click of the lock. You silently prayed that Jake—or whoever was fronting—hadn’t engaged any of the other locks on the door that could only be unhinged from the inside. Fortunately for you, the knob twisted and the door swung open with ease, revealing the familiarity of the flat within.

It was... quiet. Not eerily so, but enough to make you proceed with caution. Everything appeared to be in order, undisturbed and in its place, but still, you felt a sense of uneasiness crawl up your spine.

You weren’t a stranger to the feeling, though. You often felt this way when you were in the company of Jake. You enjoyed his presence, and wanted to get to know him better, but still, he was unpredictable and volatile—you never knew what to expect when he was fronting. You couldn’t read him as well as the other two alters, and as someone who had an affinity for picking up on unspoken emotional cues, you weren't particularly fond of the element of surprise.

You heard a low buzz from somewhere off to your right, and as the door clicked shut behind you, you wandered towards the source of the noise on the other side of the apartment. As you grew closer, you recognized the previously indiscernible sound—humming.

“...Jake?”

You called out softly, and just as rounded the edge of the bookshelf that separated the living space from the bedroom, the door to the bathroom flew open.

The man in question strolled through the doorway, steam billowing behind him, whistling to himself, but he froze when he saw you standing before him. He quickly recovered from his initial shock, however.

“Bebita. Looks like you need to work on your patience.”

He teased, and you felt your mouth run dry as you took in his appearance. He’d clearly just finished up in the shower—there were still droplets of water rolling down his shoulders and the toned skin of his chest and abdomen, trailing southbound where a white towel hung lowly on his hips. You could see the dark hair of his happy trail against his navel, the towel very loosely covering his modesty. His hair was wet and tussled, curls falling across his forehead, and you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t one of the most attractive sights you’d ever seen in your life.

Much to your chagrin, he seemed to pick up on the effect that his appearance had on you. You watched as his lips curled into a devilish grin, staring at you with a depraved look in his deep brown eyes that only Jake was capable of.

“Why—Why didn’t you answer the door?”

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying you in your attempt to appear collected. His head tilted slightly in question.

“Because...I was in the shower.”

Oh. Right.

You swallowed, lips downturned into a small frown, suddenly feeling sheepish at your previous concern for his safety. However, your focus returned to Jake as he slinked forward, taking a few slow, deliberate steps in your direction.

“You’re blushing, mi vida. Am I making you nervous?”

You unconsciously shook your head at his question, although you could feel your heart racing in your chest as he drew closer to you.

“No? Hm, that’s a shame. I could’ve sworn I saw you staring at my cock.”

He paused when only a foot and a half remained between you, and you felt your face grow even redder at his statement. As much as you tried to resist, as much as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, your gaze involuntarily flickered down to glance at his crotch—you could see the outline of his hardening member through the soft material of the towel, more prominent than it had been even a few seconds prior.

A dark chuckle escaped him, and you forced your gaze back onto his face. He was grinning wickedly, gazing at you with a carnal gleam in his eye.

“Está bien, bebita. I know how much you like it. That’s why you rushed in here, isn’t it? Didn’t want to wait for papi’s cock any longer?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your jaw fell slack at the nickname he assigned to himself—you felt your knees grow weak. Just as you’d said—unpredictable. You certainly hadn’t expected that.

But fuck, you really liked it.

His smirk turned into a toothy grin as he observed your reaction to his taunt. One more step towards you and you were only a short distance apart. You could see moisture congregating in the divot of his collarbone, and you desperately wanted to lick at the pooled water.

“Are you going to be good for me, bebita?”

You nodded dumbly at him, any cohesive thought escaping from your brain as all you could perceive was Jake, Jake, Jake. He parroted your senseless nodding, mocking you condescendingly. Without another word, he dropped the towel from his waist and it pooled around his ankles, exposing his fully-erect member to your sight, and you swooned.

His tongue traced over his lower lip sensually, looking at you through hooded eyes. A shadow crossed his face as his mouth contorted into a sneer.

“Get on your knees.”

You obeyed before you even consciously processed the command, collapsing onto your knees before him, your abrupt fall cushioned by his discarded towel. Your mouth watered as you became eye-level with the hardness of his cock, the vein beneath the underside of his shaft just begging for your attention. You resisted, instead opting to stare up at Jake’s face expectantly, awaiting further instruction. It was clear to you that he liked to be in control.

He smirked at your complacency, his hand reaching up to lazily stroke his cock a few times, watching the way your eyes followed the movement of his hands with laser focus, your lips slightly parted in anticipation. He tilted his hips forward and slapped your cheeks with the ruddy head of his cock a few times, and you whimpered at the action, eyes squeezed shut tightly with restraint.

“Stick out your tongue for me, bebita.”

You obliged, opening your mouth wide and letting your tongue loll out past your lips. He tapped his length against the slick muscle, and you savored the familiar tang of his precum on your tastebuds as he pulled back to fist at his cock again. You whined as he withdrew from you, but he just tutted at you condescendingly, slapping your cheek once more with his member.

“Oh, pobrecita. You want papi to let you play with his cock?”

You nodded feverishly, staring up at him through your lashes, doe-eyed. He pouted his lip out in a look of mock pity before removing his hand from his length.

“Go on, then, bebita.”

You lurched forward, your tongue flexing to lick a long stripe on the underside of his cock, tracing the jagged vein that had enticed you earlier. He hummed at the action, watching as you eagerly lifted your hands to begin slowly pumping the velvety skin of his shaft, your lips suctioning around the flushed tip and tongue dipping into the slit. A low groan rumbled deep within his chest as you bobbed your head, eyes never leaving his face as you studied each reaction he had to your movements.

“There you go, mi vida. So good for papi.”

You moaned around his cock at the repeated use of the title, and he chuckled at your obvious approval, one hand finally reaching up to card through your hair as you continued to work more of his length into your mouth.

“You gonna let papi fuck your pretty little mouth, hm?”

He pulled his hips back, removing his member from your touch and you gasped in a breath. You nodded in response to his question, opening your mouth expectantly, and he all but laughed at your eagerness.

“You want it bad, huh, bebita? You gonna ask nicely?”

“Please, papi.”

The word sounded foreign on your tongue, but your discomfort melted away when you saw Jake’s cock jump at the sound of your desperate pleading and he threw his head back in satisfaction.

“Please, fuck my face. Want to feel you in my throat. Please.”

He seemed satisfied with your begging as he wrapped both of his hands in your hair, tilting your head upward and guiding your towards his awaiting length. When your hands reached up to rest on his thighs, he pulled back, hissing at you.

“No, mi vida. Hands behind your back. Don’t make me tell you again.”

You clasped your hands behind yourself obediently, opening your mouth again, and you finally felt the fat tip of his cock rest against your tongue.

You practically choked when he harshly thrusted into your mouth, sinking nearly his entire length into your throat without warning. Before you could even recover, he was pulling back and repeating the motion, not giving you any time to adjust to the intrusion or ease you into a rhythm. You gagged unceremoniously as he fucked your face with reckless abandon, so you tried to slacken your jaw and just take it.

“Look at you, mi llorica. So beautiful when you cry for me, with my cock in your mouth.”

You could barely see him through the blur of tears as they rolled down your cheeks, mixing with the saliva that was foaming around your lips and dribbling down your chin. He picked up his pace, grunting with each motion, the head of his cock bruising the back of your throat with every forward thrust. He was guiding your head forward and backward in time with his movements, successfully burying himself into your face.

“You want me to cum down your throat, bebita? Going to take everything papi gives you?”

You garbled around his length as his balls slapped against your chin, and you felt his cock throb on your tongue as he sheathed himself completely inside of you, growling out your name as he shot his load as deep into your throat as he could. Still, he challenged you more, forcing himself further and further down your throat with each spurt of cum that he released, your nose smushed against his pubic bone as you swallowed around him, trying with all of your might to prevent yourself from gagging and ruining his orgasm.

With a satisfied groan, he slowly pulled his spent member from your mouth, and you gasped harshly, sucking in a deep breath of air and finally allowing the muscles of your neck to relax. There was a soreness lingering in the back of your throat, but you relished in the feeling as you wiped the mix of spit and tears from your face with the back of your hand, staring up at the fucked-out expression that Jake offered you.

“Did so well for me, bebita. What do you say to papi?”

There was an edge to his tone, his domineering persona not faltering for even a second as your scratchy voice responded accordingly.

“Thank you, papi.”

He nodded at you approvingly, watching as you blinked up at him expectantly. He was pleasantly surprised at just how quickly you’d fallen into submission—he thought he might have to coax you into cooperating with him, but it was clear to him that you were eager to please, your eyes glistening with residual tears from one of the best goddamned blowjobs he’d ever had in his life.

He leaned down and clasped his hands on your shoulders, yanking you to your feet without a word. You saw his eyes flicker down to your swollen, spit-soaked lips, but his gaze was hard as he took a step away from you, as if to resist the temptation to kiss you.

“Strip. Hands and knees, on the bed for me. Now, bebita.”

You didn’t protest as you hastily heeded his words, shedding your layers of clothing and tossing them to the floor before you scampered back towards the bed, crawling to your hands and knees in the center, head facing towards the pillows. You could hear Jake creeping up behind you, but you resisted the urge to turn your head and follow his movements, opting instead to squeeze your eyes shut and wait.

You weren’t afraid of Jake. Of course you weren’t. You knew he’d never hurt you—not unless you wanted him to. Nonetheless, you knew what he was capable of—actually, that was the thing. You didn’t know what he was capable of, but still, you could see the thinly-veiled chaos that swirled behind his coffee-colored irises, could sense the firm restraint he forced upon himself when he was around you, holding some unnamed beast at bay on your behalf. It scared you, but also sparked something inside of you—a primitive, savage excitement as he stalked you like his prey. Was it wrong if you secretly hoped he’d unleash the mayhem that resided within him, let himself go? God only knows the man deserved an outlet in which to channel his frustrations.

You felt the mattress dip down behind you, Jake kneeling on the bed behind your bowed position—your nerves spiked at the vulnerability you displayed, exposed as you practically felt his eyes tear through your body with crazed, wanton desire.

You were surprised to feel a soft caress on your hips, his rough fingers delicately ghosting over the supple skin on your waist. It was comforting, soothing, and surprising—a needed reassurance under his scrutinizing gaze. You felt his lips brush softly against the tender flesh of your left buttock, and you relaxed slightly, letting yourself sink down to your forearms but keeping your ass raised with the arching of your back.

“Are you ready, mi vida?”

He asked quietly, and you managed to squeak out a small ‘yes’ before sinking further into the bed and shifting your hips backs toward him in anticipation. He chuckled at your obvious eagerness, greedy for his touch, and you startled when his tender hold on your hips tightened into a bruising grip, the soft press of his lip to your left asscheek morphing until he was sinking his teeth into the flesh with a playful nip.

You yelped at the abrupt shift in demeanor, the sound earning you a sharp smack to your other cheek, his palm quickly rubbing the afflicted area to soothe the lingering sting of his spanking. You pressed your forehead into the sheet beneath you, your legs beginning to quiver with desperation.

“You’re going to stay like this, and take what I give you. Don’t move. ¿Vale, bebita?”

You nodded, but were met with another harsh swat on your backside at your lack of a verbal confirmation.

“Yes! Okay, papi, okay. Just—please.”

You were practically dripping onto the mattress beneath you, your arousal slickening your needy cunt as you desperately sought out any stimulation.

The pads of his fingers experimentally swiped through your folds without warning, and you jolted, involuntarily pushing your hips back to follow the withdrawal of his touch. Another firm slap against your opposite asscheek, a whimper escaping your lips as he scolded you.

“Stay still, bebita. Stop squirming.”

His order briefly brought you back to your first time with Marc, who had requested the same thing, but the words felt heavier when they were uttered by Jake—you knew he wouldn’t hesitate to find a way to make you comply.

When his fingers made contact with your core again, you clenched your muscles, forcing yourself to remain completely motionless, and you were rewarded with the tip of his digit just barely skimming over your clit. You whined at the sensation, but held your position.

Jake was pleased with your cooperation, but you couldn’t help but quake when you felt his tongue sweep through your folds to taste you. The spank he offered was softer, taking pity on you as he leaned forward and fully sank his mouth into your awaiting cunt. You mewled, fingers twisting into the fabric of the sheets beneath you and fisting at them tightly in an effort to keep still.

He was moaning shamelessly into your sex, his method tactless, sloppy and rushed. His movements weren’t practiced and deliberate like Marc’s, nor careful and precise like Steven’s—no, Jake was eating you out like a man starved, greedily mouthing at every part of you and reveling in the sounds that escaped your lips.

His hand lifted and he sank two fingers into your entrance, curling them forward frantically as his mouth latched onto your clit. He was working you to your orgasm quickly, hurriedly, desperate to feel you clamp down around him and cry out his name.

Your thighs were beginning to tremble. He must’ve sensed you were close, because he doubled his efforts, the vibrations from his growling buzzing through your flesh and pushing you over the precipice. On its own accord, your body lurched back towards him, your cunt grinding back against his face as your eyes rolled, your walls contracting around his digits and your juices leaking onto his awaiting tongue.

You felt dizzy, faint, your efforts to hold yourself upright through your climax exhausted you, and when you came down from your intense high, you felt Jake draw himself away from you, slow and intimidating. You felt your pulse spike as you awaited whatever came next. His large hand caressed your ass, gently smoothing over your soft flesh in back-and-forth motions.

“Sabe a miel, bebita. Such a pretty little pussy.”

His touch on your skin halted, and you felt his body lean over your back, his lips coming to brush against the nape of your neck.

“But you didn’t follow my instructions, pobrecita. You need to learn how to listen.”

You cried out when his hand swatted at your abused clit, your body jumping at the painful sensation in an attempt to escape his cruel attack. You felt one arm snake beneath your stomach to hold you upright, his forearm pressing your hips back towards him and keeping you there.

“I let you cum, even after you moved when I told you not to. Do you like being a brat, hm?”

You shook your head—another smack to your cunt, and you whimpered.

“No! No, m’sorry, papi, I—”

“Don’t you think I’ve been generous? Spoiling you? And still, you’re ungrateful, bebita.”

Your body flinched in preparation for the next blow, but instead, you felt his lips tenderly brush a kiss to the flesh of your ass.

“Compórtate. I think I need to teach you how to mind your manners.”

He slapped your ass again, harder than before, and you could feel the lingering sting forming a welt across your skin. He hummed.

“What do you say to papi, hm? For being so good to you?”

“Thank you, papi.”

You whimpered, tears starting to dampen the sheets beneath your face. Your appreciation earned you a soothing hand across the flesh he'd just struck.

“That’s right. Five more times, bebita.”

You sobbed in protest, body trying to pull away from him, but his arm wrapped around your torso forced you into place. He cooed at you.

“It’s okay, pobrecita. You’re going to say thank you after every single one, and then papi will fuck you. ¿Sí?”

He didn’t wait for your response. He smacked your clit, the sting burning its way through your lower belly. You choked back another sob.

“Th—thank you, papi.”

You stuttered, voice barely audible from where your cheek was smushed into the bedding, but Jake took pity on you. Two, three, four more times—the final blow landed sharply against your cunt, and you whimpered out your gratitude, eyes squeezed shut tight and your lip starting to freckle with blood from where you’d held it between your teeth.

He placed gentle kisses on your lower back, your ass, as far as he could reach, his arm still supporting your weight while the other came to softly smooth over your hip. Your mind was cloudy, your body completely surrendering to Jake’s will as you descended into subspace, clinging to his approval.

“You want my cock, mi vida?”

He asked gruffly, and you could feel his hardened length prod against your behind as he leaned further over you to press more kisses on your shoulders. You whined.

“Yes, papi, please, want you inside me, please—”

He shushed you calmly, sitting back to kneel behind you. He lifted your hips higher in the air with his arm, and you felt the flushed head of his cock brush across your soaked folds once, then twice. You mewled.

Without warning, Jake sank into you, bottoming out with one harsh stroke as his balls pressed against your puffy clit. You cried out, legs turning to jelly and giving out from beneath you, but he held you upright, keeping you stable in his arms.

“Mierda. Your little cunt is swallowing me, bebita.”

He withdrew slowly, and you could feel each ridge of his length as he pulled out until just the tip remained. Even though you braced yourself, you couldn’t prepare for the way he slammed back into you, his pelvis flush against your tailbone as you cried, pleasure sparking at the bottom of your spine in spite of the pain.

Jake’s pace was relentless, unforgiving, hips snapping forward over and over, the sound of skin slapping skin drowned out by your pathetic sobbing as your walls throbbed around his member. His teeth were bared as he railed into you, intently watching the place his cock was splitting you open.

“Carajo, you’re squeezing me so tight—going to cum for you, bebita.”

He practically growled as he speared you, and another orgasm was ripped from you with a particularly harsh thrust of his hips. Your cunt clamped down around him as he let out a long, low whine, hips stuttering at the sensation.

He let you collapse into the bed as he began frantically jerking his cock, pulling out of you just in time to shoot his load all across the reddening flesh of your ass. He let out a series of grunts, coupled with Spanglish expletives as he thrusted into his fist, his head thrown back in bliss. You felt globs of his hot spend settle onto your skin, streaking your backside with his seed as he panted above you, falling back onto his heels as he drank in the aftermath of his intense orgasm that was now painting your skin.

The moments that followed blurred together as you drifted aimlessly in the wakes of your pleasure, eyes fluttering in their attempt to keep you awake. Jake left you for several minutes, the absence of his body heat making goosebumps erupt across your skin, but you were too exhausted to move.

When he finally returned, you felt him softly dab the remnants of his ejaculate from your back before he gently shifted you onto your back, tucking an arm beneath your knees and the other around your shoulders as he hoisted you into the air. You whimpered slightly at the soreness in your muscles, your head falling limp against his bare shoulder as he carried you off. You weren’t consciously aware of your surroundings, but the sensation of warm water surrounding you helped ease the ache in your bones and clear the haze that had overtaken your mind. Jake gently lowered you into the bathtub, carefully tilting your head back to rest against the ceramic edge as you let out a relieved sigh, sinking into the welcoming heat of the water.

You felt as if you’d only blinked when you awoke, the water around you now lukewarm and the candle that had been burning beside you melted to the wick. You shifted yourself upward, hissing slightly at the soreness in your thighs, but you forced yourself to stand and exit the tub.

Silence surrounded you as you leaned to pull the plug from the drain before you noticed the plush white towel that had been folded neatly and left on the lid of the toilet for you. You gratefully reached it and wrapped it around your body, noticing the pruning of your fingertips.

How long had you been asleep?

You tentatively creaked open the bathroom door and peered outside into the apartment. It was dark, and empty, for all you could see, and you took a few cautious steps out into the room.

“Jake?”

You said softly, your soft call sounding much too loud in the quiet of the space. You proceeded forward towards the bed, shrouded only in light from the single lamp that was lit from across the way. Your clothes had been folded neatly and left in a pile at the foot of the bed, and you saw a small piece of paper settled on top. A note.

You picked it up and scanned it over once, then twice. You could tell this was Jake’s handwriting—it was a messy scrawl with an evident slant, the letters each written harshly with sharp lines. It was different from Steven’s languid scribbling, his words swirling together with smooth, clean strokes, and also from Marc’s, whose blocky penmanship was unmistakable. You couldn’t marvel at the fact that all three alters had markedly distinct handwriting, though, too focused on the content of the message to give it a second thought.

Went out for a drive Text when you get home See you tomorrow.

JAKE

You frowned slightly, heart feeling heavy in your chest as you forced yourself into your clothes. You checked the time—11:28. You’d conked out for nearly two hours, and you wondered how long ago Jake had stepped out. Was he waiting for your text in order to come back home? Waiting for you to leave so he didn’t have to see you?

You had absolutely no right to be upset, you knew. You should be grateful that he was sticking to his ordinary routine after your sexual encounter in honor of your experiment, but still, a pang of hurt bloomed in your chest. You briefly returned to the bathroom to blow out the flickering lavender candle before heading out the door, your legs wobbly as you trekked the two blocks back to your own apartment.

It was nearly midnight when you finally got home. You reached for your phone and shot the boys a brief message.

made it back safely x

A response came in barely thirty seconds later.

I'm so sorry Y/N He shouldn't have done this to you M

You fell into your bed immediately, eyes skimming Marc’s words, your lips pursing slightly. You let out a long sigh before typing your reply.

it's ok marc, i promise he didn’t do anything wrong i had a nice bath! :) tell jake i said goodnight xx

You connected your phone to the charger before setting it on the nightstand, quickly turning over and sinking into your pillow, trying to ignore the tears that were stinging the back of your eyes.

Your phone buzzed with a final message.

Sleep well baby Hope you give him hell tomorrow M

POINTS OF CONTENTION:

- slowing down

- embracing vulnerability and confiding in others

- accepting intimacy and allowing raw emotion

TREATMENT: - patience, foreplay - allowing himself to feel - aftercare (!)

You were, in fact, not going to give him Hell. Just the opposite, actually.

Jake spent too much of his time letting his demons possess him. Perhaps he needed a little taste of Heaven to show him what he's missing.

“Hi, Jake.”

You greeted shyly when the door swung inward. He leaned against the doorframe slightly, looking at you down the length of his nose. He didn’t say anything—just watched you. Studied you. Observing. After a few brief moments, you cleared your throat.

“Can I—uh, can I come in?”

A beat passed before he finally sidled back into the apartment, opening the door just enough to let you slip inside. Your side brushed against his front when you passed him, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke clung to his white shirt. Oh, Steven would be livid.

You didn’t wait for an invitation before plopping down on one end of the sofa. Jake quirked a brow at your forwardness, and you signaled with the jerk of your head for him to join you on the other end. He offered a slow, dramatic roll of his eyes before seating himself beside you.

“What time did you get home last night?”

You asked quietly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you avoided his gaze. He breathed out a slow breath.

“Not too late. Hardly slept, though—your boyfriend wasn’t very happy with me. Kept me up all night, nagging at me.”

You frowned, finally noticing the deep purplish bags that had settled beneath his eyes. His curls were spilling out from beneath the brim of his flat cap.

“I’m sorry, Jake. Marc isn’t s’posed to be bothering you—it’s your weekend.”

He waved a dismissive hand, turning to settle further into the couch as he stared at some point straight ahead of him.

“No pasa nada. I’m used to it.”

He shifted in his seat slightly, his brows furrowing, and you could tell that he was receiving an earful from Marc.

“I’m—I guess I’m sorry, mi vida, if I upset you.”

You shook your head derisively.

“No, Jake, it’s—you’re fine. That’s what I asked you to do—treat me like any other girl.”

He let out a humorless bark of a laugh, knuckles rubbing over the stubbled skin of his jaw.

“Any other girl wouldn’t have gotten to see my bed, bebita.”

He noticed the perplexed look on your face and offered a sigh.

“It’s not...often, that I sleep with anyone like this. Usually it’s in the back of my cab, or a quick one in a closet—tienes suerte, mi vida. It’s rare they ever see me a second time.”

You felt a deep sadness wash over you at his confession. All Jake knew were rushed, meaningless hookups, no strings attached and no obligations. One and done.

“Is that why you didn’t kiss me, yesterday?”

Jake looked startled by your question, eyes widening marginally as his brows furrowed deeply. His lips set into a straight line, his jaw clenching tightly.

“I did kiss you. A lot.”

He insisted softly. You shook your head.

“No, Jake. A real kiss. You wouldn’t do it. Are—Is that not usually a part of your... you know?”

His knee began anxiously bouncing, his discomfort making itself evident to you.

“No sé. Never really thought about it before.”

You stood from the couch, and his stare followed your movements sharply as you crossed the short distance between you, stepping forward to stand between his spread legs. He looked up at you with dark, brooding eyes, uncertainty churning just beneath the surface. You slowly moved to sit on his lap, your thighs slotting on either side of his hips so you were straddling him. His hands mindlessly settled on your waist, his touch timid and delicate. Your fingers smoothed over his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Can I kiss you, Jake?”

His lips silently parted, a flash of fear briefly flickering over his features as he gazed up at you longingly. His nervousness was palpable, his hesitancy evident through the tension in his shoulders and the crease between his brow. He didn’t offer you a response, so you carefully began leaning your face towards him, tilting your head so your nose brushed against his. You felt his stuttering exhale fan out across your face before you finally let your lips brush over his own.

It was soft, and tentative, as if he was unsure of how to respond or worried he would somehow break you. You pressed your mouth a bit firmer to his, melding against him. You wished, hoped he could feel all your emotions come through the kiss—how much you cared for him, how much you wanted to show him that. Maybe your manifestation worked, because after his few fleeting seconds of unresponsiveness, you felt him sink into the feeling, one arm traveling from your waist up your back to cradle the back of your head in his hand.

He shifted beneath you, trying to pull you closer, as if you weren’t already on top of him. You could feel the stiffness vacate his muscles as the kiss grew feverish, desperate, his lips moving against yours hastily and messily. His free hand began to roam the expanse of your back as he pressed his torso into your own, your nose smushing against his cheek as he gripped you tighter.

He whined when your tongue swiped across the seam of his mouth, his lips immediately parting to allow you access. You dove in to taste him, the stale tobacco and faint mint of his toothpaste overtaking your senses and inebriating you with the distinctive flavor of Jake. His own tongue began to tussle with yours as he mirrored your actions, your teeth clashing messily as he all but tried to swallow you whole.

You pulled back abruptly, gasping in a breath, and his mouth chased yours in a frantic attempt to maintain contact. You felt his hips instinctually rut up against you, his hands still pulling you tightly against his body as he nuzzled into your neck, inhaling the scent of your soft skin.

“Slow down, Jake, take it easy.”

You placed both of your hands on either one of his shoulders and forced him to relax against the couch, his body following your guidance as he sank backwards at your request. His eyes were practically crazed, his lips swollen and ruddy as he looked up at you with a half-lidded gaze, chest heaving with panted breaths.

“Oh, hermosa.”

His muttered, his grip pulling you back to his chest as he surged forward to hungrily meet your lips again, his hands beginning to claw over every inch of your body he could reach, trying to feel all of you. You pushed him away again, more forcefully this time, and he fell backwards with a grunt.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

A flicker of sadness glinted briefly in his dark eyes, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it expression, but you caught it. You offered him a soft, assuring smile, grabbing the hat from his head and tossing it to the side so you could sink your fingers into his hair. He leaned back into your touch as your nails gently scratched at his scalp, a soft, breathless moan breaking from his lips as his eyes fell shut. You leaned forward and pressed a single kiss to the exposed skin of his throat.

“Come on, handsome.”

He was reluctant to loosen his hold on you, but you reached for his hand and clutched his fingers tightly so he could still feel you touching him somewhere. You led him over to the bed, pausing at the foot of it and gesturing with a nod of your head for him to lay down. He quirked a brow at you, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“You going to punish me for being so hard on you yesterday, bebita?”

You weren’t oblivious to the excitement that shone in his eyes—he seemed enticed by the possibility of you torturing him in a similar vein to Marc, and you figured that was some information you could keep in your back pocket for future reference.

Instead, you let out a saccharine giggle—it was sickeningly sweet, cloyingly so, and Jake might’ve gotten a toothache from the sugar if it weren’t for the softness with which you crept over his splayed-out body, sinking your front against his as you pressed a featherlight peck on his lips.

“No, Jake. Nothing like that.”

You let your weight settle onto him, straddling his lap and letting your chest fall flush against his as you kissed him again—he mouthed at you hungrily, trying to force his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance, and you gently pulled away.

“Hey, tough guy. What’s your rush?”

His brows furrowed, gaze flickering from your eyes and down to your dewy lips, his pupils blown wide. You smiled sweetly at him.

“Slow down, okay? There’s no hurry, really. Let me just feel you.”

He blew out a huff of air before your lips were on his again, and he heeded your request, letting you take the lead as your poured all of your passion into the kiss. It was slow, deep, intimate, your fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt and across the hot skin of his torso, pushing the material up as you went. You slowly drew back to discard the article of clothing before immediately latching your mouth to his, slow movements still heavy and dripping with desire. You finally parted his lips with the swipe of your tongue, and you felt his fingers sink into your hair, tilting his head for a better angle with which to lavish you.

You could feel him getting greedier as he pressed his body up into your warmth, hands sliding down the expanse of your back and making a move to rip your shirt from your body. You pulled back suddenly, giving him a warning look.

“Hey. Slow.”

You reminded, and he stuttered out an exhale, his fingers gradually raising your shirt above your head as he tossed it to the side. His eyes ravished your body as his fingers traced along the newly exposed skin of your sides, his touch softly skimming your curves before coming up to cup at your breasts. You smiled sweetly down at him as he pressed a few fervent kisses to your collarbone. His dark eyes found yours, lips parted provocatively as he silently asked for your permission. You nodded gently, and his fingers trembled with restraint as he slowly reached around to unclasp your bra.

It was taking everything within his power not to flip you over and pound into you, but something about the look in your eye—reverent, devoted, loving—he didn’t mind too much.

When your breasts exposed themselves to him, he made a low rumbling noise from the back of his throat, leaning forward to latch onto one of your nipples hastily. You tugged at his hair and he groaned in frustration.

“Jake.”

You warned, and he pressed his face down into your cleavage, his breathing ragged and shallow.

“Mierda, bebita. You like being on top so much, hm? Like being in control of papi?”

You gently pulled at his curls again, forcing his face to lift and look up at you. You regarded him softly, one of your hands coming to delicately trace over his jaw and cheekbone.

“No, honey. None of that, okay?”

His brows furrowed, and you leaned down to press a kiss against the crease between them.

“It’s just you and me. Jake and Y/N.”

He repeated your name back to you in a low murmur, as if saying it for the very first time. Actually, now that you thought about it—maybe it was. Jake had never addressed you by your name before, only used endearments to speak with you.

He seemed puzzled by your suggestion, eyes round and questioning and lost, almost uncomfortable with the proposal of having you call him by his actual name.

“You can be on top if you really want to, Jake.”

You pressed a kiss to his nose, then atop both of his fluttering eyelids, then one in the center of his hairline.

“You just—have to be patient.”

You pressed your forehead against his, letting your eyes drift shut as you took in the soft sound of his breathing, finally settling down and evening out. You felt his head tilt up to meet yours again, and you let him kiss you, his pace steady and deliberate, easing you into a rhythm. His hands slowly crawled up your spine, cradling you close to him as he licked into your mouth, his hips bucking up just slightly when you gently tugged at his lower lip with your teeth. He pulled away, shaking his head at your flirtatious action and giving you a playful glare before mouthing gently at your jawline, down your neck and behind your ear. When you leaned into his touch, he sank his teeth in and suckled a deep red mark into your skin, earning a soft whimper in appreciation. His lips stayed pressed against you as they trailed down the column of your neck, along your collarbone and shoulder, and finally down to the flesh of your breasts.

You breathed out a low moan when he placed wet open-mouthed kisses along the top curves of your chest, slowly teasing lower until his teeth scraped your hardened nipple and his lips puckered around it. His hand came to palm at your other breast, kneading at the doughy flesh as he stared up at you seductively through his lashes.

“Fuck, Jake.”

You whimpered, and the sound of his name rolling so deliciously off of your tongue caused his hips to grind up against you once more. When he was satisfied with the array of red and purple marks he’d imprinted on your skin, he dragged his face back up to your own and pressed his lips to yours once again.

You were impressed with his restraint. You could feel the hardness in his muscles, see the tension in his thick shoulders as he forced himself to take his time instead of jumping your bones from the start. You hummed against his mouth before pulling yourself away and off of his lap, your fingers slowly trailing down the length of his torso before settling on the buckle of his jeans.

His breath stuttered at the action, his abdominal muscles contracting as he awaited your next move. You gently reached down to palm at his bulge through the layers of fabric and he groaned throatily, his eyes fluttering shut at the much needed stimulation. Your fingers deftly worked to unloop his belt before unbuttoning his jeans, and he lifted his hips to assist you in pulling them off of him.

When he was left in just his briefs, you pressed gently against his shoulder to make him lay back down and relax. He sank back into the pillows, propped up so he had a decent view of you between his legs, your fingers teasingly stroking over his length through the thin cotton of his boxers. He hissed.

“Estás una calientapollas. Please, hermosa. Y/N.”

He saw the way your eyes darted to his face at the sound of your name, your lips parting and your fingers ceasing their gentle sweeping motion over his cock. You held his gaze as you slowly reached up towards the waistband of his briefs and coaxed them down his legs, freeing his member that had been straining against the fabric.

After you’d tossed his final undergarment aside, you settled back between Jake's legs, your hands stroking each of his inner thighs softly, watching as he pulled his lip between his teeth. Your left hand slowly, slowly crept upwards until it ghosted over the silky skin of his shaft, his body shuddering in response to your touch. You waited until his eyes were open again, watching you, before leaning forward and letting a pool of your saliva drip from your lips and onto his awaiting cock. He keened at the sight, his hips jerking just slightly as you finally wrapped your hand around the base and began to stroke him at a treacherously slow pace.

“Mierda. Fuck.”

He grunted quietly, trying to keep his hips still as you started to pump him a bit faster, glittering eyes staring up at him reverently. It was dizzying, the way you gazed up at him with such infatuation. It almost made him nauseous.

You slowly leaned down and licked the precum from his leaking slit before letting your lips wrap around the head, swirling your tongue languidly over the tip, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure.

You briefly pulled back to press kisses up along his entire length, coupled with soft caresses of your fingertips. It was clear to you that Jake was beginning to feel frustrated—his hands were buried in his hair, head thrown back against the bed as if attempting to subdue his desires.

You took him back into your mouth, working him slowly over with your tongue and swallowing him down bit by bit, agonizingly slow. You could feel Jake’s thighs tensing around you, his hands flying from his head to fist at the sheets on either side of his body.

When you gagged around his cock, he lost his composure. You made a startled choking sound when you felt his hand against the back of your head, pressing you down onto his length as his hips bucked up to try to sink into your throat. You immediately recoiled, and Jake nearly whined, his eyes desperately pleading with you to grant him some release. You weren’t taking any pleasure in seeing him like this—this wasn’t your end goal.

“You going to edge me like Marc, huh? Want to hear me beg?”

His voice broke off slightly, his frustrations venting through his lips as he almost glared at you. You sat up, moving to straddle his waist once more so you could press your lips to his again.

“No, Jake, I told you, I’m not. I just—Let me take care of you. Wanna show you how much you mean to me, wanna—wanna worship you, wanna make you feel good—”

His brows furrowed as you rambled slightly, your eyes big and round and glassy. He was confused—what exactly was it that you wanted from him?

“Let me fuck you, mi vida—make us both feel good with me inside you, hm?”

“No, Jake, just—hang on, that’s not—”

“Then what? Want to see if I can be as vanilla as your little Steven?”

“I want to make love with you, Jake.”

His breath resembled something of a gasp as his eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline, disappearing beneath his curls while his eyes widened almost comically at your hasty confession. You cringed inwardly at your forwardness, taking in the expression of sheer panic on Jake’s face that had him looking like a deer in headlights. You sighed, leaning forward to press your forehead into his chest in an attempt to hide your face from view.

“Fuck. Sorry. I just—I don’t want you to feel like you have to rush through this. I’m sorry, I just—I want—want you to enjoy it, want you to let yourself feel it, Jake.”

You could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his lack of response smothering you after your fervent explanation. You wanted to disappear, wanted the ground to cave in and swallow you whole—instead, silence consumed you, settling across your back like a weight that you weren’t strong enough to carry.

“That’s...a new one for me.”

His voice was quiet, sheepish, and you could feel the vibrations rumbling in his chest as you lifted your head to look at him.

“I know.”

You acknowledged quietly. He was staring at you. Dark eyes searching within yours, scanning your expression, every detail of your face, as if attempting to see straight through you. Your heart was still pounding, your face rosy with an embarrassed blush—you felt his arms shift, his hand hesitantly lifting, fingers ghosting over the skin right above the waistband of your jeans at your hips, getting about as close as he could to holding you without actually touching you at all.

You’d never seen Jake Lockley at a loss for words before, and you’d certainly never seen him look so unsure. He was always so collected, nonchalant and unfazed, never dropping his guard for more than a second before that smug smirk reappeared on his face. He took things in stride, his confidence stifling as if he was always three steps ahead of the rest of the world, always knowing what came next.

But now there was vulnerability displayed across his slacken face, a certain wariness serrating his words as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, mi vida, but I don’t—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Jake, really, I promise it’s okay.”

You reached up a hand to cradle the side of his face, fingers gliding across the stubble of his jaw as your thumb brushed over his cheek. His head instinctually tilted in the direction of your hold, turning to press a soft kiss to the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry. This—I don’t know what I was thinking. This isn’t fair to ask of you at all, it wasn’t a part of the deal, and—we can stop here. Let’s—just tell me where you wanna go from here and we can do it. Anything.”

You breathed, looking into his eyes, your brows furrowed in remorse as you anxiously awaited his reply. He was still just looking at you, unwavering, his chest heaving slightly with each brash exhale.

You felt his fingers skate up your bare spine and you straightened at his touch, letting him gently pull you towards him until your noses were brushing again. His gaze never left yours as he drank you in, his lips parting so you could feel his warm breath against yours. After a few more grueling beats, your pulse jumping with anticipation, his closed the gap and kissed you with a tenderness you didn’t know he even possessed. He pulled himself into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around you until they enveloped you completely, your bodies melding together as his tongue traced the seam of your mouth, although he didn’t press any further—just feeling you, tasting you, savoring the sweetness that seemed to course through your veins.

You were breathless when he pulled back, although he only recoiled just enough to speak. You could feel the movement of his lips against your face as his dark eyes burned through you.

“Hermosa, I don’t—I’ve never... Nunca he hecho esto antes.”

You knew what he was saying even if you couldn’t actually understand it. Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled softly at him, sliding your palms over his chest before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

“It’s okay, honey. I—we can figure it out together.”

He blinked rapidly at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought there were tears shining across his eyes. But then he was kissing you again, so softly and sincerely that it fucking hurt.

Your body was slotted perfectly against his, flush against the contours of his current position as his hands slid up and down your spine, settling lowly on your back, just above your ass. You could feel his aching arousal pressing into your heat, rubbing against the seam of your jeans as he held you against him. You let his tongue lick inside your mouth greedily before you drew away.

“Can I—Can I keep going?”

You asked softly, grinding your clothed core up against him for emphasis. A breathy whimper fell from his lips as he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before slowly nodding. You slowly crawled down the length of his body, pressing gentle kisses all the way down until you found yourself settled between his legs once again, not wasting any time in wrapping your hand around his cock and giving him a few gentle strokes. He sank into the mattress, throwing his head back into the pillows as his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

“You’re supposed to enjoy this, okay? But remember, this—this isn’t just about making each other cum, it’s—wanna make you feel good. We’ll take it nice and slow. You tell me when you’re ready to—when you wanna move on, and we will, okay?”

He looked down at you, his eyes still full of doubt and hesitance, but beneath the veneer you could see the warmth of trust shining through. He nodded at you reassuringly, and the soft smile he offered was one you’d never seen from him before—so genuine and credulous that it almost resembled Steven.

Without another word, you leaned forward and let the tip of your tongue trace the driblet of precome that had begun to slide down the length of his shaft. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, suckling at the flesh as your hand began to stroke him steadily, wrist twisting just slightly to maximize the stimulation.

Jake let you toy with him for awhile, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of him in tight fists while he endured you doting on his throbbing cock.

When you reached to squeeze for his balls, your head sinking a bit lower onto his length, you felt his fingers wrap in your hair and gently coax you off of him, a low growl rumbling in his chest. You immediately ceased your ministrations, staring up at him attentively as he blinked slowly at you, his lip swollen from where he had been biting it.

“Do you—you want me to stop? Wanna—want me to ride you, or—”

He interrupted you with groan, throwing his head back against the pillows and squeezing his eyes shut. You could feel the muscles of his abdomen rippling.

“No, mi vida, it’s alright, whenever—you can stay down there as long as you like, I just—mierda, your mouth is so good to me, hermosa. Worried I’m gonna cum.”

He confessed, a sort of pained expression on his face. You gave him a pitying look—it wasn’t mocking, not at all, but genuine sympathy. You didn’t want to make him miserable.

“Just a little bit longer, okay, honey? I know it’s hard going so slow, I’m sorry, but—but I promise, when you finally let go, it’ll be worth it, okay?”

He smiled meekly at you, nodding as he removed his hand from your hair and returned it to its position tangled in the sheets at his side. You gave him one last reassuring glance before sinking your mouth back down onto his cock and lavishing him with more attention.

For several more minutes, he let you worship him, his hips jolting and cock twitching, although he was displaying great levels of restraint when it came to letting you dictate the speed and pace of your actions. You suckled one of his balls into your mouth, watching as he squirmed, legs kicking just slightly beside you as he mewled, his face scrunched up in pleasure.

You released him with a popping sound, finally satisfied with how you’d worked him up and extolled his cock. You crawled up his body and he eagerly welcomed your proximity, pulling you to his mouth to plant a hard, desperate kiss to your mouth. You smiled into him, fingers nestled in his curls.

“Thank you, Jake, did so well.”

You whispered, pressing gentle kisses to the expanse of his jaw as his chest heaved beneath you. He hummed to acknowledge your praise, although you could feel the tension in his muscles as he impatiently awaited your signal that you could continue.

When your eyes met his, they blinked at him, docile and alluring, and he took that as his cue to roll you onto your back so he could position himself on top of you. He pressed a few kisses to your mouth, as if he was struggling to pull himself away, before his lips traveled down your neck and collarbone, his hands popping the button on your jeans to finally have you bare beneath him. You didn’t protest when he pulled them down off of you, your panties joining them soon after. He leaned up to kiss you again, his rock-hard length dipping into your sopping folds as his body rocked against yours once, then twice, earning a low whimper from your throat.

“Go ahead, honey, I’m ready for you.”

You whispered, voice sweet, and he groaned lowly. However, he surprised you by pressing a soft peck to your cheek before sinking down the length of your body, his mouth trailing a line down the center of your torso before kissing right atop your pubic bone, brown eyes watching you closely. Your breath stuttered as you wrapped your fingers in his hair unconsciously.

“Jake, you’ve waited long enough, you don’t have to—”

“Wanna do this right, Y/N.”

He whispered, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on your clit, causing you to gasp.

“Make me feel so good, hermosa. Promised going slow is worth it—gonna make it worth it for you, too.”

You couldn’t dwell on the fluttering sensation in your chest when his mouth pressed against you, wet tongue meeting your dripping folds with attentiveness—you released a soft cry as he lapped at your entranced, the tip of his tongue prodding at your clit gently, causing you to squirm.

Jake liked to run his mouth, but now, he was silent. It's not that he didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to spur you on with filthy praise—he simply couldn’t find the words. He was absolutely hypnotized by the sight above him, bewitched by the expression of pure, unadulterated euphoria on your face at each ministration he offered. He’d never been witness to such a beautiful view before—any time he’d gone down on someone, watching their nonverbal responses to his touch simply wasn’t his priority. It had always been rushed, forceful, as he ripped orgasm after orgasm from his partner with greed and insatiability. But now—now it was you. He was in between your legs, pulling angelic sounds from your lips as your thighs quaked around his head. You were glowing, radiant, ethereal as you basked in the pleasure, and Jake finally realized why foreplay was so important—seeing you like this might be even better than the real thing.

He heeded your words. He wasn’t trying to make you cum, wasn’t speeding you towards your climax with rapid swipes of his tongue and fingers. He was savoring you, each brush of his mouth against your core was languid and indulgent. His lips puckered around your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing slow circles around it with his tongue as your fingers fisted tighter into his curls, offering enough of a sting to make him groan around you. His tongue dipped into your entrance, lapping at your dripping arousal, your walls fluttering around his thick muscle as your hips jerked to meet his thrusts, pressing yourself against his face to chase your mounting pleasure.

This was different than the orgasms he’d granted you the day prior—this was a simmering heat, coiling lowly in your stomach, festering and building slowly as he sought out the places that made you squirm. You could feel the intensity spiking, even though his lazy speed remained constant—the way his dark eyes stayed firmly fixated on your face was dragging you closer and closer to the threshold.

“Fuck, Jake, oh God—”

You whined, and his hands slipped beneath your ass, lifting your hips to grant him a better angle at which to devour you. Your thighs were trembling, his tongue beginning to swipe over your clit in rapid side-to-side motions—the change of pace pulled a ragged wail from within you, the muscles of your abdomen squeezing tight. He couldn’t control the shameful rutting of his hips into the mattress beneath him at the sound.

“So close, Jake, yes, fuck—”

You were right on the precipice, stars clouding your vision, but right before you tipped over the edge, you yanked your hips back, lifting Jake's head away from you with your grip on his hair. He jolted, hazy eyes suddenly wide and alert as he sat back, bewildered at your abrupt departure from his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm dissipated, your tense muscles sinking back into the mattress as the coil loosened itself. You breathed out lowly, your lashes fluttering as you opened your arms to pull Jake against you.

“Sorry, honey, I—so good, Jake, fuck, but I—wanna cum on your cock, wanna cum with you.”

A low groan escaped him as he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes blinking closed to stave off the arousal that was singeing his insides.

“You—¿estás lista, mi vida? Are you sure?”

You nodded vigorously, pressing a kiss to his lips, and he let out a slow breath, hands sliding to your sides. Your brows furrowed when he pulled back, gently attempting to roll you onto your stomach. You reached up to grip his shoulders tightly, shaking your head.

“No, no, Jake, I want—wanna see you, wanna be close to you, please.”

There was turmoil churning behind his eyes as he stared down at you, brows furrowed heavily as he fought his internal battle. You realized he’d probably never done it like this before—if the fact that he was afraid to kiss you was any indication, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’d never let himself be caught in such an intimate position.

But then his eyes softened, his hand coming to cradle the side of your face, his thumb pressing up against the swell of your lower lip.

“Okay, hermosa. Por ti hago lo que sea.”

You felt his member slide between your dripping folds, the head of his cock brushing across your clit as he guided it against your center, hearing the way your breath hitched at the feel of him over your bundle of nerves. You felt it notch at your entrance, the tip just barely breaching your folds. Jake cursed lowly under his breath, eyes glued to where his cock was about to sink into you. In spite of your desperation, your hands lifted to rest on either side of his face, forcing his eyes onto you.

“Look at me, honey. Want you to look at me when you split me open.”

“Carajo.”

He muttered, closing his eyes to steel himself before opening them again to stare into yours. You watched his lips part as he pushed into you, unbearably slow, a low moan rumbling through his diaphragm as he sank into you, only stopping when he was fully-seated within your fluttering walls.

The intimacy was stifling him. He felt lightheaded, breathless, his body hovering over yours just barely as he held himself up above you, drinking in your heavenly being—your hair was fanned out on the pillow beneath you, your pink lips slicked with saliva as your gazed up at him with doe-eyes, blinking slowly as your walls clenched around him.

“God, Jake.”

You whispered, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling so he fell against you, chest flush against your own. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, staying still inside of you for a few brief moments in order to just feel the way you surrounded him.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled back his hips, just barely, before pressing back inside of you, your moans echoing in unison as his balls nestled tightly against your ass again. He’d always been so busy chasing his release, relentlessly pounding into you that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate just how perfectly he filled you, just how perfectly your walls clamped around his pulsing length.

“So good, mi vida.”

He groaned against your neck, repeating the motion of his hips at a more steady pace. Each thrust pressed against your cervix, causing you to whimper.

“Fill me up so nice, Jake, fuck, feels so good.”

He felt your walls clamp around him once more, and he pulled his head back slightly, lifting himself up a bit more so he could increase the breadth of his thrusts.

“Me vas a matar.”

He growled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as one hand came to palm at your breast, his eyes glued to the way the other bounced with each push of his hips forward. His eyes drifted back to the fucked-out expression on your face, your lips parted as you stared up at him, and his hips stuttered just slightly.

God, he was close already.

“Fuck, hermosa, me arruinas.”

You could feel him faltering, a bead of sweat dripping from one of his curls and down onto your chest, sliding between your breasts and down to your stomach. He watched it dribble downward, eyes dazed, his abdomen clenching as he attempted to stave off his impending orgasm.

His hand clumsily wedged between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in crude circles, his arm trembling just slightly. Watching him grow desperate above you was enough to spark the beginnings of your climax. You pulled him down for a bruising kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling as you swallowed his incessant groans.

“Wan’ you to cum with me, Jake.”

Your words were drawled, drunk on the way his cock filled you, and you could feel pleasure sparking in the base of your spine. The speed of his fingers on your clit sped up slightly, his hips struggling to maintain their cadence.

“Mierda, hermosa, oh fuck, so tight—can’t, I can’t—”

“Cum inside me, Jake.”

Your words were only a whisper as you skated along the edge of your orgasm, just barely hanging on as you desperately tried to convince Jake to let go. His eyes blew open wide at your words, grunting as his hips continued jacking forward.

“Y/N, shit, don’t—I’ve never—”

“Oh, God, fuck, I’m cumming, Jake, please, please cum with me, fuck—”

He couldn’t have stopped himself even if he tried. The rhythmic pulsing of your walls around his painfully hard cock was harrowing, gripping him so tightly that he couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to.

His balls drew up tight as his climax exploded.

“Oh, me vengo—mierda, fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, shit, shit, shit—”

His eyes rolled back as he nearly collapsed on top of you, his hips pistoning forward again and again as he shot his spend deep into your walls, his cock pulsing. His orgasm seemed to last minutes as his vision blacked out, brain emptying as his awareness only focused on how the pleasure zipped across his skin with each pump of cum that he released and how tightly your walls were squeezing him, milking him for all he was worth. He’d never cum so hard in his life, or so much—his seed was leaking out around his length as his body slowed to a halt, your tired cunt stuffed full of him as his cock spilled one final spurt of warm release, the head of his member settling against your cervix as he stilled, his weight bearing down on you as he went boneless.

Jake was slowly grounded back into reality at the feeling of your fingertips brushing softly across the length of his spine, your other hand buried in his curls from where his face was tucked into your shoulder. He could feel your hot lips pressed against his temple, your breathing steady and even as you regained your bearings. He forced himself to follow your inhalation patterns, attempting to slow the racing of his heart.

As the endorphins flooding his bloodstream began to thin out, his anxieties threatened to consume him once again. He pushed himself up and off of you, groaning at the soreness in his muscles and the exhaustion tingeing the edge of his movements. You could do nothing but watch him as he slowly pulled out of you, and you expected him to leave you as hastily as he had the day before—maybe he would’ve, if not for the way his eyes glued themselves to your exposed center, enthralled by the sight of his cum oozing from your fluttering hole and dripping downwards.

Your hips jumped slightly when you felt his fingers gently sweep over your cunt—his gaze never lifted as he scooped his release from where is was beginning to escape and pushed it back into you, forcing you to keep as much of him inside as you could. His eyes were dark, possessive as he tilted your hips up just slightly in an effort to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

His sudden captivation and obsession with filling you was surprising, a stark contrast from just moments before when he had desperately resisted your pleas to finish inside of you. The ghost of a smile flickered over his lips as he settled you back down, seemingly content with the show. His eyes flickered up to yours, and as soon as your gazes met, you saw the way a shadow crested his features, abruptly throwing up his guard after the unexpected vulnerability he’d just granted you.

Jake walked to the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him with a click. You pulled yourself into a sitting position, sighing as you felt the stickiness between your thighs and settling beneath you. You should clean yourself up, get dressed and head out so that—

The bathroom door swung open again and Jake walked out, a wet washcloth awkwardly held in his left hand. He stood at the end of the bed for a moment, as if unsure of what to do next. His eyes hesitantly found yours.

“Do—I’m—I haven’t done this part before, mi vida.”

He quietly admitted, offering a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. Still, your heart warmed at his efforts.

“Thought—figured I’d try what Marc does, but I don’t—”

“Thank you, Jake, that’s perfect.”

You encouraged softly, and his eyes lit up with your soft praises as he knelt down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to carefully press the cloth to your ruined core. You sucked in a sharp breath, the coldness of the water a foreign sensation in contrast to the heat that was broiling between your legs—Jake recoiled, eyes searching yours widely for direction. You offered him a lopsided grin.

“Sorry, s’just—sensitive.”

You explained, and he nodded, slowly wiping at the arousal that stained your skin. His lips were pursed as he focused on his actions, trying desperately not to hurt you. After awhile, he sighed.

“Would you—do you want Marc? Or Steven?”

Your face fell as he finished cleaning you up, tossing the towel on the floor beside the bed, before facing you, his curls falling across his forehead and into his eyes. You frowned.

“No, Jake—not unless you don’t want to—it’s okay, I can always leave if that’s—”

He let out a humorless, bitter laugh, one hand coming up to stroke at his stubbled jaw as he stared at the ceiling, clearly uncomfortable.

“No sé lo que estoy haciendo.”

You heard him mumble breathlessly, his shoulders sagging with defeat.

“Do you—will you come lay with me, Jake?”

You asked softly, as if you were speaking to a wild animal and were trying desperately not to scare it away. His eyes darted to your face, lips parting to protest, to make up an excuse, but then he shook his head at himself, crawling up towards you and seating himself beside you, his back resting against the headboard. You tentatively leaned into his side, nestling your head against his shoulder. You felt him stiffen beside you slightly, but then his arm moved to wrap around you, pulling you closer against his side.

You felt him release a breath he’d been holding as you lifted a hand to rest on his bare chest, drawing random shapes into the warm skin mindlessly.

“Why did you think I’d want Marc or Steven?”

You asked softly, your eyes watching the movement of your fingers on his chest. His hold on you tightened.

“This—s’not my job. I don’t do things like this.”

You sat upright, turning to face him fully. His eyes were hard as they looked at you.

“What do you mean, not your job?”

His lips pursed.

“You know, hermosa. You’re the doctor, hm? Steven and me, we’re—we both do something for Marc. S’why we’re here. Marc and Steven, they—they get to feel things, know people. I’m—I’m just here to make sure they’re safe, that they don’t get hurt.”

Tears pricked behind your eyes as his words registered in your brain. There was an aching sensation festering in your chest.

“No, Jake, that’s not—that’s not how this works. You’re a person, you have every right to experience things just like they do, you’re—”

“No pasa nada. This is the way things are, hermosa. I know you thought—thought you’d be able to come and figure us out, show us what’s what, but—but I already know who I am, what part I play.”

The dejection in his voice was unmistakable. There was bitterness in his words, resentment. The pain in your chest expanded.

“I protect. That’s what I do. Means I don’t get—I don’t get to have this, mi vida. What happened today—that’t not mine.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, so you turned and sank back into his side, hoping he didn’t catch your display of emotion. In spite of himself, he let you press against him, savoring the feeling of your soft skin against his own.

You were hoping he’d open himself up to you after your intimate tryst, but you obviously misread the situation—his walls had come back up, even stronger and more unwavering than before.

Perhaps he sensed your sadness. You felt him release a long sigh, his muscles going lax as he let his head fall against the headboard.

“Lo siento, hermosa. I—you deserve better than what I can give you.”

Your head turned to gaze up at him, finding his eyes staring straight ahead at a random focal point. You felt your heart crack a bit.

“Stop, Jake, don’t say that. That’s not true, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, mi vida. I appreciate what you tried to do for me today. Significa mucho para mí.”

He swallowed, and when he finally looked down at you, the warmth he’d been unabashedly displaying for you had been replaced by the familiar austere glint that normally resided there.

No. You wouldn’t have it. Not after all of this.

Your hand reached up to cradle his jaw, thumb swiping over the apple of his cheek as you turned his head to face you.

“I know you’ve heard me say it, Jake. To Marc and Steven. This wasn’t—this isn’t just research.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his eyes flickered down to your lips, and you felt the arm that was wrapped around you tighten its grip again.

“I care about you, a lot—”

“You don’t know me.”

His words were brazen, suddenly harsh, insistent against your admission. Your brows furrowed.

“I’m not—I’m not like the others. I’m—I’m no good, hermosa. You care about Steven, and Marc, but I’m not like them. I don’t feel things like them, I can’t—estás mejor sin mí.”

“Then let me know you, Jake. You’re a part of this system, just as much as Marc and Steven, and you deserve to be happy.”

He didn’t answer you—his jaw rippled at the conviction your tone offered, so certain with yourself. You let out a long sigh, reaching to pull at his arm as you shifted. His brows furrowed, but he let you coax him into a lying position, his head against the pillows as you once again nestled into his side, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as you pressed your front against his side, face squished against his shoulder. You placed a soft kiss to the skin there.

“I’m gonna stay with you tonight, okay, Jake?”

You felt his muscles tense in protest, every fiber of his being telling him to make you leave, to get up and go, but the proximity and warmth of your body was intoxicating. After a few beats, he finally offered a slow nod, his limbs relaxing as he sank into the bed. You reached to pull the duvet over you two, clutching onto him tightly, and even if he refused to hold you back, you could feel the way his body went pliant beneath your touch.

He shouldn’t let you so close. He’d managed to keep his distance before—but with the way your breaths slowed into gentle snores, your hair tickling against his bicep, your comforting heat seeping into his bones—he felt his resolve begin to crack beneath the pressure of your insistent affections.

Jake let himself mold against you, his head tilting to rest against the top of yours as he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head—he told himself that it was okay, you were sleeping, no one ever had to know just how much you’d softened him, how deeply you’d sunk your perfectly-manicured nails into his flesh—and no one ever had to know just how much he loved it.

For the first time in what felt like ever, Jake Lockley actually slept.

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kckt88 · 5 months ago

Text

For whom the bell tolls.

Summary:

After the death of her younger brother, Vaelarra plots to sneak into Kings Landing and take the life of the one responsible - her husband Aemond.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Plots/Scheming, Language, Kissing, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Blood, Character Death, Includes Epilogue.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C VAELARRA VELARYON (& JACAERYS VELARYON x VAELARRA VELARYON).

Word Count: 6778

A.N - Alternate version of Where Water Meets The Sea!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond sat alone in his chambers, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows across the room. His fingers digging into the wooden arms of his chair.

The fire’s warmth did little to chase away the coldness that had settled deep within his bones. His thoughts turning to his wife, Vaelarra, and their son, Aenys.

He could still see Vaelarra’s face, twisted in anger and hurt, the day he had her and Aenys locked away in their chambers. He had believed he was doing the right thing, helping to secure the throne for his brother Aegon, instead of the named heir Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he thought of Ser Erryk, the knight who had, freed his wife from her confinement and allowed her and Aenys to escape King’s Landing on the back of her dragon, Cannibal, with the two of them now safely ensconced on Dragonstone.

Much had changed since he had last seen his wife.

The blood of her brother Lucerys now stained his hands, a dark reminder of the confrontation at Storm’s End. He could still hear the scream of terror as Vhagar, had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

He knew Vaelarra would never forgive him for what he had done.

No longer would she gaze upon him with love and call him her gēlenka zaldrīzes. (Silver dragon).

He would never get to enjoy the feeling of her combing and braiding his hair and he certainly wouldn’t get to hear her whisper Issa vēzos se qēlossās as they made love.(My sun and stars)

The bond they had shared, once so strong, was now irrevocably broken. She would hate him, and he could not blame her. He was a kinslayer, a cursed title that would haunt him forever.

The fire crackled, a log collapsing into embers. Aemond’s grip on the chair loosened, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating mantle.

Crowning Aegon had cost a heavy price, and in the solitude of his chambers, he faced the true cost of his actions.

The love of his wife and son, all sacrificed on the altar of his own making. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting a harsh glow on the reality he could no longer escape.

Meanwhile, on Dragonstone, Vaelarra stood around the painted table, her gaze fixed on the intricate carvings that detailed the lands of Westeros.

Beside her stood her father, Daemon, his presence a formidable pillar of strength. Her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, stood nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Her grandmother, Rhaenys, stood silent but strong, her gaze as unyielding as the sea. A small number of lords loyal to her mother were also gathered, their faces etched with worry and resolve.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Vaelarra’s heart ached, her thoughts a tumultuous storm of grief and anger.

“Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-”

The door creaked open, and she gasped as her mother, Rhaenyra, walked into the room. Dishevelled and unkempt, Rhaenyra looked like a shadow of her former self.

She had spent the last ten days searching for the remains of her son Lucerys, her desperation and sorrow evident in every step she took.

In Rhaenyra’s grasp was a piece of Luke’s shredded cloak. The sight of it caused Vaelarra’s breath to hitch, a quiet sob escaping her lips.

The room seemed to close in around her as she stared at the tattered fabric, a physical reminder of her younger brother’s tragic end. Her heart twisted and broke, the pain of loss almost too much to bear.

Her grief slowly began to morph into something darker, something colder. As the reality of Luke’s death settled over her, Vaelarra’s sorrow turned into a burning hatred. Her husband, Aemond, the father of her child, was responsible for this.

The man she had once loved with all her heart had brought this unimaginable pain upon her family. The love she had once felt for him was now tainted, twisted by the betrayal and the blood on his hands.

Her eyes hardened, the tears drying as a steely resolve took hold. She would avenge her brother. The man responsible for Luke’s death would pay dearly for his actions.

Vaelarra clenched her fists, the knuckles turning white.

The image of Aemond, once a source of joy and love, now filled her with a burning desire for vengeance.

Vaelarra swore silently to herself that she would spill the blood of the one responsible, that she would make Aemond pay for the agony he had caused.

“Your council stands at the ready Your Grace” said Daemon placing his hands on the table “I will fly to Harrenhal at your command and set our toe hold in the Riverlands”.

“Your Grace, my lord husbands blockade of the gullet moves into place, all seaborn travel and trade to Kings Landing will soon be cut off” said Rhaenys her voice firm.

“I-I want Aemond Targaryen” exclaimed Rhaenyra, her fists clenched.

As Rhaenyra walked away from the table, her face streaked with tears, Vaelarra looked at her father, their silent glance was worth more than a thousand words.

Later that night Vaelarra sat with her mother, in silence as they awaited the arrival of Jacaerys, the grief over losing Luke etched upon her face, her eyes that had once sparkled were now dull orbs, staring at the wall, the only movement she made was breathing.

The sound of the door opening distracted Vaelarra, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Jace.

Tired, and pale. But he was alive and he was home.

Vaelarra rushed to her brother and held him tight, her face buried in his neck.

“Thank the gods, your safe-” whispered Vaelarra softly as she felt Jace’s arms encircle her waist and hold her tight.

“Sister-“ muttered Jace, his voice small.

Vaelarra placed a kiss upon his brow and released him from her hug, only for Jace to take her hand and refuse to let go.

“Your Grace-Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale” said Jace.

Vaelarra looked at her mother who nodded silently.

“-And Lord Cregan Stark, h-has promised-“ said Jace his voice wobbling as he struggled to contain his grief “-Two thousand men-”

Rhaenyra slowly rose from her seat and made her way towards her children, she paused for a moment before she pulled them both into her embrace.

Jace couldn’t contain his grief a moment longer and he cried, swept up in the in the arms of his mother and sister.

Vaelarra and Daemon stood on one of the balconies of Dragonstone, the salty breeze tugging at their cloaks as they gazed out over the turbulent sea. The sky was painted with hues of deep orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient fortress.

Vaelarra's jaw was set, her eyes burning with determination as she turned to face her father.

"I have a plan-to see an end to this fucking war before it gets worse" she began, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of fierce resolve. "I will sneak into King's Landing and slit Aemond's throat. He deserves to pay for what he's done, for what he's taken from us."

Daemon's invisible brows furrowed, a mixture of concern and scepticism flashing in his eyes. "And what if you fail?" he asked, his tone gruff. "What if you’re caught before you even reach him? You’re talking about sneaking into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold. The risks are too great-we have already lost two children, one of them by the hand of that one eyed cunt, and I will not lose another"

She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "I will not fail. I am not some weakling woman. I am blood of the dragon, and I will see justice served for Lucerys. I know the Red Keep; I know the secret passageways. No one else can get close enough to Aemond."

Daemon sighed, his worry for his daughter evident. "You are my oldest child, Vaelarra. I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. If something were to happen—"

"Nothing will happen," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I am the only one who can do this. Aemond will never suspect me. He won't see me coming."

They stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Finally, Daemon nodded slowly, though his eyes were still filled with reluctance. "If we are to do this," he said quietly, "then we will do it together. I will not let you face this danger alone."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, gratitude mixing with her determination. "Together, then," she agreed.

Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will plan this carefully. Every detail must be perfect. We cannot afford any mistakes and we cannot under any circumstances tell your mother”.

Vaelarra nodded, her resolve unshaken. "I understand"

Under the cover of darkness, a small rowboat glided silently toward the docks of King’s Landing.

Cloaked figures huddled within it; their faces hidden from view. Vaelarra and Daemon, having paid for their clandestine passage, stepped onto the worn wooden planks of the dock. The muffled sounds of the city night surrounded them: distant laughter, the clatter of horse hooves, and the faint murmur of conversations.

Vaelarra pulled her cloak tighter around her, the hood casting deep shadows over her face. Daemon, equally concealed, motioned for her to follow.

Together, they slipped into the labyrinthine streets of King’s Landing, keeping to the narrow, less-travelled alleys. Heads down, they moved swiftly and quietly, their boots barely making a sound against the cobblestones.

The city, even at night, was alive with activity. Beggars huddled in doorways, their eyes tracking the cloaked figures warily. Vaelarra and Daemon pressed on, their hearts pounding with the tension of their mission.

The familiar stench of the city, a mix of refuse and sea air, was almost comforting in its predictability.

They arrived at an unassuming wall, overgrown with ivy and seemingly forgotten. Daemon reached out, fingers brushing against the stone until he found a hidden latch. With a quiet click, a portion of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark passageway leading into the depths of the Red Keep.

Daemon turned to Vaelarra; his expression hidden but his concern evident in his posture. He handed her a finely crafted dagger, its blade gleaming even in the dim light.

“Be careful, Vaelarra,” murmured Daemon, his voice low and urgent. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Vaelarra took the dagger, the weight of it both reassuring and heavy with the responsibility it carried. She met her father’s eyes, the shared determination between them a silent promise. “I will be back,” she whispered, her voice unwavering. She stepped forward, embracing Daemon tightly.

As she pulled away, Vaelarra took a deep breath and disappeared into the darkened passageway. The air inside was cool and musty, the narrow walls pressing in on her as she moved forward. Daemon watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of pride and dread. The shadows swallowed her form, leaving him alone in the silent night.

He closed the hidden door behind her, his thoughts racing as he positioned himself nearby, ready to act if needed. The city’s noises faded into the background as he focused on the task ahead. Vaelarra was strong, capable, and determined. She was blood of the dragon. And though the path she walked was fraught with danger, Daemon knew she would face it head-on, driven by the need for justice and vengeance.

Inside the passageway, Vaelarra moved with purpose, the layout of the Red Keep etched into her memory.

Each step brought her closer to her goal, the dagger a cold reminder of the deadly mission she had undertaken. She was not just a sister seeking vengeance; she was a dragon, and she would see her brother avenged, no matter the cost.

Vaelarra moved silently through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep, her footsteps barely a whisper against the cold stone floor.

The walls, lined with cobwebs and the dust of years, seemed to close in around her as she navigated the narrow, twisting corridors.

Several times, she was forced to stop, pressing herself against the rough stone as maids and guards passed by, their conversations muffled but clear enough to keep her alert. Each time, she remained undiscovered, her breathing steady and controlled.

She made her way toward Aemond's chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

As she approached the secret entrance, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The small door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a few candles casting long shadows across the walls. Scraps of discarded parchment littered the desk and floor, a testament to Aemond's restless thoughts.

Vaelarra picked up one of the pieces, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled words. She saw her name, written and crossed out multiple times.

Aemond must have attempted to write to her, to find the right words to explain his actions. But how does a kinslayer express his remorse?

The sound of movement outside the main door made her freeze. She quickly moved behind a heavy curtain, her breath shallow and silent.

The door swung open, and she listened intently as the unmistakable sound of Aemond's footsteps filled the room. He entered slowly, the familiar rhythm of his gait sending a shiver down her spine.

She heard the soft thud of his leather jerkin being removed, followed by the clinking of his weapons as he set them aside.

From her hiding place, Vaelarra watched silently, her eyes never leaving him. He moved with a weary grace, his back to her as he approached the desk.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of his guilt and actions pressing down on him. He paused, his hand hovering over one of the discarded parchments, before letting out a sigh and turning away.

Vaelarra's grip tightened around the dagger, her mind racing with the memories of what he had done. The image of Lucerys, her younger brother, flashed before her eyes, fuelling the fire of her anger and sorrow. She remained unmoving, a predator observing its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aemond moved toward the bed, oblivious to her presence. Vaelarra's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the resolve that had brought her here. She knew what she had to do. For Lucerys, for her family, and for herself, she would see this through.

Vaelarra hid the dagger beneath her cloak, her fingers gripping its hilt tightly as she stepped out from behind the curtain. The soft rustle of her cloak was enough to alert Aemond to her presence.

He spun around, his eye narrowing as he scanned the room for the intruder. Before Vaelarra could react, he moved with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior, seizing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs, her vision blurring for a moment. Aemond's grip was ironclad, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her in place.

He reached out with his other hand and yanked down the hood of her cloak, his eye widening in shock as he came face to face with Vaelarra.

"Vaelarra?" gasped Aemond, the surprise evident in his voice. For a moment, the fierce determination in her eyes gave him pause.

Aemond's grip loosened slightly, confusion and a flicker of something else—remorse, perhaps—crossing his features. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Vaelarra’s heart raced, the weight of the dagger beneath her cloak a constant reminder of her mission. She stared at him, the man she had once loved, now her enemy. "I'm here for justice, Aemond," she replied, her voice steady despite the pressure on her throat. "For Lucerys."

Aemond's face contorted with pain and regret, but he did not release her. "You don't understand," he began, but Vaelarra cut him off.

"I understand enough," she spat, her eyes burning with a mix of hatred and sorrow. "You killed my brother. You betrayed everything we once had."

Aemond's grip tightened again, his internal struggle clear. "I never wanted this," he said through gritted teeth. "But this war—it has taken everything from us."

"It didn't take Lucerys from us," Vaelarra hissed, her fingers inching closer to the dagger beneath her cloak. "You did that."

Aemond's eye locked onto hers, the room filled with the tension of their shared history and the weight of their choices.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls as they faced each other.

Vaelarra pulled off her cloak with a swift motion, laying it carefully on Aemond's bed while ensuring the dagger remained concealed beneath its folds. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury.

Without warning, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room.

Aemond's head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening from the force of the blow. He turned back to her, a mixture of shock and anger in his eye, but Vaelarra didn't give him a chance to speak.

"You usurped the throne, helped to steal my birthright, and the birthright of our son. Aenys would have been king, but you took that from him. You murdered Lucerys. You killed my brother!" hissed Vaelarra, her voice low and filled with venom.

Aemond's expression twisted with pain and regret, but Vaelarra continued, her words a torrent of anger and betrayal. "You were my husband, the father of my child, and you betrayed us all. You sided with Aegon, you chose power over family, and now, look at the ruin you've brought upon us. You took everything from me, from Aenys, and for what? A throne built on blood and lies?"

"Vaelarra," Aemond began, his voice breaking, but she cut him off, her eyes filled with tears of rage.

"No, you don't get to speak," she snapped. "You don't get to explain or justify your actions. Lucerys is dead because of you. My brother is gone, and the blood is on your hands. How could you? How could you do this to us?"

“Larra-“ muttered Aemond.

"He was an envoy! He was a child-“

Aemond's face twisted with pain and frustration. "-So was I when Luke carved my eye out of my skull!" he shot back, the rawness of his voice revealing the deep scars the event had left on him.

Vaelarra's eyes blazed with a mix of rage and sorrow. "So that's what it was—revenge? What happened on Driftmark was an accident!"

Aemond stepped closer, his expression hardening. "An accident Luke was never held accountable for—he never even apologized," he said, his voice low but intense.

Vaelarra's breath hitched, her anger giving way to a profound grief. "He was a child, Aemond. A scared, impulsive child. And you-you slaughtered him for a mistake made in fear."

Aemond clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I didn't mean to kill him," he admitted, his voice strained. "But the anger, the humiliation I carried all these years-it consumed me. And when I saw him at Storm's End, it all came rushing back."

Vaelarra's shoulders sagged, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. "I loved you, Aemond. I thought-I thought that we could be different. That we could rise above the hatred”.

"I never wanted this," Aemond said, his voice cracking. "But the world we live in, the choices we've made-they've brought us to this point. I am sorry, Vaelarra. Truly, I am."

Vaelarra shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Sorry won't bring Luke back. It won't ease the pain."

Aemond's eye burned with a mixture of anger and anguish as he stepped closer to Vaelarra, his voice rising with the intensity of his emotions. "How do you think I feel, Vaelarra? My eye is gone, my face permanently scarred, and my own father, didn't even bother to defend me. He publicly chose his favourite child, Rhaenyra, over and over again."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, a flicker of empathy breaking through her anger, but Aemond pressed on, his voice trembling with the weight of his pain.

"All through my life, Viserys never bothered with me, Aegon, or Helaena. Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your father would probably have preferred it if you and your siblings had never been born? To feel like an afterthought, a mistake he regretted?"

“-Aemond”

"You had your mother; your brothers, and you’ve had three fathers in your life. You had a family that loved you. But for me, every day was a reminder that I was unwanted, unloved. And then, when Luke took my eye, it was as if the last bit of hope I had for my father's approval was ripped away."

“-And you think that excuses your actions, that it some how absolves you of your sins” snarled Vaelarra.

"Why did you come here, Vaelarra?" asked Aemond, his voice a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Why risk so much to stand before me?"

Vaelarra's gaze was unwavering, her voice steady but laced with raw emotion. "I had to stand in front of you," she said. "I had to look you in the eye and see for myself if the man I loved still existed, or if he had truly become the monster who killed my brother."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, and he took a hesitant step toward her. "And what do you see?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vaelarra's eyes filled with tears, her expression a mixture of heartbreak and resolve. "I see a stranger," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "The man I loved would never have hurt me in such a manner. He promised me, on the day we wed, that things would be different. That we would forge our own path, away from the bitterness and bloodshed of our families. And all you've done is start a war, a war that has torn us apart and taken everything from us."

Aemond’s face crumpled, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Vaelarra, I—" he began, but she shook her head, silencing him.

"No," she said firmly. "You made your choices, Aemond, and now we all have to live with the consequences. Lucerys is dead. Our son’s birthright has been stolen. And you have become a monster."

Aemond's eye glistened with unshed tears as he reached out a hand toward her, but Vaelarra stepped back, her resolve unyielding. "I came here to see if there was any trace of the man I married left within you," she said quietly. "But I see now that he is gone, replaced by someone I can no longer recognize. Someone who values power over family, ambition over love."

Aemond's eye filled with desperation as he stepped forward, taking Vaelarra's face gently in his hands. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he looked into her tear-stained eyes.

"Vaelarra," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you. I have always loved you. Please, don't abandon me. I need you. I am so sorry for all of it."

“Aemond-“

He kissed her tear-streaked cheeks, the salt of her tears mingling with his lips. "Forgive me," he pleaded between kisses. "Please, forgive me ābrazȳrys. I can't bear to lose you” (Wife).

Vaelarra's resolve wavered, her heart torn between the love she still felt for him and the pain of his betrayal.

Aemond pressed his lips to hers, the kiss filled with a desperate need for forgiveness and redemption.

For a moment, she resisted, her body stiff with the weight of her grief and anger. But as his kiss deepened, she felt the familiar pull of their bond, the shared memories of love and passion.

Slowly, her resistance melted away. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding him close.

In that tender embrace, Vaelarra allowed herself to succumb to the bittersweet illusion Aemond's touch offered—the illusion of a fleeting moment frozen in time, where the weight of betrayal and the horrors of war could momentarily be set aside.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the warmth of his embrace, in the familiar scent of his skin that once brought her comfort.

For a brief, fragile moment, she pretended. Pretended there was no war tearing the realm apart, no blood staining his hands. Pretended that Aemond hadn't betrayed her, hadn't shattered the trust that once bound them together.

In that moment, they were simply husband and wife again, sharing a stolen fragment of peace amidst the chaos.

She brushed her lips against his, tasting both sorrow and love in the tender kiss they shared. Their bodies pressed together, seeking solace and familiarity in each other's arms.

For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist—the Red Keep around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond backed Vaelarra towards the bed, their hands pulling at each other’s clothes, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra he shoved her onto the mattress.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelarra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelarra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelarra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelarra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelarra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelarra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelarra; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelarra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelarra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus-” whispered Vaelarra as she writhed against him (Please).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelarra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaelarra can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelarra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

Aemond lifted Vaelarra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelarra.

“That’s it-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Vaelarra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Vaelarra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelarra arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the chambers.

“Fuck. Larra-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelarra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelarra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid on the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Vaelarra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelarra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it Larra, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelarra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond.

Vaelarra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelarra.

“-FUCK” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The chamber was filled with the aftermath of their lovemaking, the air thick with a mix of passion and lingering tension.

Vaelarra sat atop Aemond, his chest rising and falling beneath her, his singular eye closed in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his softened cock still nestled inside her.

She watched as he basked in his pleasure, his cheeks tinged pink. Their recent intimacy had not made her waver in her decision to do what must be done.

Discreetly, Vaelarra reached for the dagger still hidden within her cloak. Her fingers curled around the hilt.

"I hope your seed will take root within me once more," Vaelarra whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the stillness.

Her hand caressed his cheek, fingers tracing the lines of his face and perfectly shaped lips as if trying to etch his face into her memory forever.

Aemond's eye opened, meeting hers with a mix of regret and longing. "I hope so too," he replied, his voice husky with emotion as he placed a hand on her stomach.

"A part of me will always love you, Aemond," Vaelarra confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

She met Aemond's eye one last time, searching for any remnants of the man she had loved, but finding only the shadow of a broken oath and shattered promises.

And then, with a swift and decisive motion, she plunged the dagger downward.

Aemond's eye widened in shock as the dagger was driven deep into his neck.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of agony and farewell, he didn’t move, he didn’t try to push her off, he seemed resigned to his fate as his arms had remained by his side.

Vaelarra then pulled the dagger free, the metallic scent of blood filling the air as it seemingly spilled without an end over them both, the red of Aemond’s blood a stark contrast to the white cotton bed sheets.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Aemond's body went limp beneath her, the weight of his lifeless form a stark reminder of the irreversible choice she had made.

As she stared at Aemond’s lifeless body the tears she had held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers of grief.

Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, each breath a painful reminder of the life she had taken and the love she had lost.

After Vaelarra had composed herself as much as possible, she began to dress and pull on her cloak, her movements slow and deliberate, after she had finished she pulled a sheet over Aemond's lower half, a final gesture to preserve his modesty in death.

As she leaned over him, she ran a trembling finger down his sculpted face, her touch gentle despite the weight of what had happened.

Aemond's singular eye had remained open and unblinking, the sapphire that replaced his missing eye was glinting in the low light of the chamber's fire.

With a steady hand, Vaelarra carefully removed the sapphire from the empty eye socket, her touch lingering for a moment on the cool surface. She placed the gemstone inside the pocket of her cloak, a keepsake of the man who had once been her husband, now forever lost to her.

Before leaving, Vaelarra pressed a kiss to Aemond's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment in a silent farewell. She pulled up her hood, concealing her tear-streaked face, and turned towards the secret entrance that led out of Aemond's chambers.

Just before departing, a resolve settled within her. She picked up Aemond's sword and dagger, feeling their weight in her hands.

With practiced efficiency, she fastened the belt around her waist, securing the weapons close to her body.

As she slipped through the secret passage, leaving behind the lifeless body of Aemond, Vaelarra knew that her actions would reverberate through the realm but whatever happened she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Vaelarra moved swiftly through the labyrinthine passageways of the Red Keep, her heart pounding with a mixture of sorrow and grim determination. Each step echoed in the dimly lit corridors, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her shoulders.

Finally, she emerged into a secluded chamber where Daemon, stood waiting anxiously. His face softened with relief as he caught sight of her, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Vaelarra allowed herself a moment to lean into his embrace, seeking solace in the presence of her father amid the turmoil of her emotions.

"I was worried-" Daemon murmured against her hair; his voice thick with concern. "I feared they had caught you."

Vaelarra pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze with eyes that held a mix of weariness and resolve. "-A son for a son" she replied softly, her voice steady despite the lingering tremor in her hands. "-Aemond is dead."

Daemon's expression shifted, a complex blend of emotions crossing his features. He noticed the blood staining Vaelarra's clothes, evidence of the deed she had carried out. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his pride and sorrow mingling in the depths of his eyes.

"You have done what needed to be done, Vaelarra. You are true blood of the dragon." murmured Daemon, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

Vaelarra felt a swell of conflicting emotions at her father's words—pride, relief, and the weight of the path she had chosen. She nodded solemnly, grateful for his understanding and support.

"You took his weapons," Daemon observed quietly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and understanding.

Vaelarra met his gaze steadily, her own eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I took them for Aenys," she explained, her voice steady despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "One day, when he is old enough, he might want to have them. They belonged to his father."

Daemon nodded slowly, a solemn acknowledgment passing between them. "A fitting keepsake," he murmured, his voice filled with a sense of finality.

Turning his attention away from the grim reminders of the past, Daemon looked around the secret entrance. "Let us leave King's Landing," he said firmly. "Now that Aemond is dead, it won't take them long to discover his body. We must not be here when they do."

Vaelarra nodded in agreement, a sense of urgency settling over her as they made their way swiftly through the darkened streets of King's Landing, their steps hurried yet purposeful.

The weight of their actions hung heavy in the air as they navigated towards the shores where their small rowboat awaited them. They moved with silent determination as the sound of bells ringing echoed throughout the city, signalling the discovery of Aemond's body.

As they reached the dock where their boat and it’s row man waited, moving along with the gentle waves, Daemon's arm instinctively wrapped around Vaelarra's shoulders, drawing her close as they climbed aboard and took a seat.

Neither Daemon nor Vaelarra spoke as they drifted further and further away from King's Landing.

Their silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts, each lost in their own reflections on the events that had transpired.

Daemon's grip on his daughter tightened subtly, a silent reassurance of their bond amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead.

In the years following the events that reshaped the realm, peace gradually settled over Westeros under Queen Rhaenyra's reign.

With Aemond dead and Vhagar no longer a threat, under Daemon's leadership, the Black army swiftly secured King's Landing, paving the way for Rhaenyra to ascend the Iron Throne unopposed.

Aegon conceded the conquerors crown and was granted a pardon, he and Helaena chose to travel across the narrow sea to Essos and found a new home in Pentos where they could live out their days in peace with their three children.

Meanwhile, justice was meted out to those who had conspired against Rhaenyra. Otto Hightower, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong were all found guilty of treason and faced the ultimate consequence.

Alicent Hightower, while pardoned, remained confined within the Red Keep, a reminder of the cost of ambition and betrayal.

Under Rhaenyra's rule, those who had bent the knee to Aegon were given the opportunity to pledge their loyalty to her rightful reign, solidifying her hold over the Seven Kingdoms.

Stability returned to the realm as Rhaenyra worked to heal the wounds left by the war.

Nine moons after Aemond's death, Vaelarra gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Aemma.

Two years later, she married Jacaerys, finding love and companionship once more.

Together, they were blessed with a son named Lucerys and a daughter named Viserra, their family growing amidst the newfound peace.

As years passed, Aenys, now eleven name days old, successfully claimed Vhagar as his own.

The ancient she dragon, once bonded to his father Aemond, readily accepted him as her new rider, forging a new bond that echoed through history.

Aenys spent much of his youth honing his skills in the training yard, his prowess with the sword remarkable.

His long sword that once belonged to his father, with a sapphire now embedded in its hilt, became a symbol of his lineage and inherited talent.

In the wake of war and turmoil, life in Westeros moved forward, shaped by the choices, and sacrifices of those who dared to fight for their beliefs.

Through it all, the legacy of House Targaryen endured, bound by blood, dragons, and the ever-changing tides of history.

A.N - Jace was never betrothed to Baela in this story and please let me know which version you prefer, this or Where Water Meets The Sea.

I like to create different versions of similiar stories that I have written as I like the what if possibilities..

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #aemond x oc #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x original female character #aemond #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond targaryen #hotd smut #hotd

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arcielee · 1 year ago

Text

Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket.

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm.

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords.

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration.

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success.

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe.

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door.

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you.

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper.

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill.

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile.

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?”

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne.

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath.

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again.

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead.

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach.

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both.

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you.

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth.

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it.

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.”

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap.

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh.

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous.

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.”

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction.

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this.

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?”

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips…

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject.

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words.

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.”

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips.

And you dared to kiss him.

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs.

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers.

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said.

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing.

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you.

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.”

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs.

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt.

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another.

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets.

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen.

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling.

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin.

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth.

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled.

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against.

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching.

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath.

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you.

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss.

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response.

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.”

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again.

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #this was also inspired by the tag #aemond aemond aemond #only if for a night #update 9/27

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nrilliree · 7 months ago

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I saw TG's comments about Viserys "deserving the humiliation of dragging himself to the throne" in episode 8 and…

Guys, seriously? Did we see the same episode 8? Was it humiliation? I know some people have the idea that Viserys is the worst evil, who brutally abused, oppressed, terrorized and made poor, innocent Alicent's life a living hell, but trying to turn everything into a "deserved punishment" for him is ridiculous. If Viserys had a scene that showed his true strength, this was it. Watch any reaction to watching this episode, even from a Burlington bar or anyone else, and you'll see that no normal viewer would perceive it as a humiliation for the characters.

It's a minutes-long scene of a sick man walking to his chair, and watching it gives me goosebumps. Because Viserys showed that he still has enough of a dragon in him to literally rise himself from the grave and go defend his decision and his right, his heiress, against the gang of hyenas and vultures that turned out to be part of his family. It amuses me that the TGs see this as a humiliation for Viserys, yet wish Aegon had the exact same scene. Only better, because he is better ;P

King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

(Gif belongs to @anyataylorjoy)

#house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #hotd #pro team black #anti team green stans #viserys targaryen #pro viserys targaryen

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bitterkarella · 9 months ago

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Midnight Pals: Desert Planet

Stephen King: so i'm gonna go over to space coven tonight to tell a story Clive Barker: what, the sci fi nerds? good luck with that King: oh they're not so bad once you get to know them, clive Barker: i do not intend to know nerds

King: look, clive, you know mary goes over to the sci fi campfire sometimes Barker: i do not believe it King: it's true! she invented sci fi, you know Barker: mary shelley? OUR mary shelley? the queen witch? Barker: she invented being a nerd?

Barker: oh steve Barker: you can't expect me to swallow that whopper King: it's true! edgar, tell him Poe: steve's right, clive. she really did Barker: Barker: well now i just don't know what to believe

King: i know those sci fi guys are a little odd but King: if you ever want to read a prose version of a mildly confusing math problem King: i mean bam they're your guys! Barker: Barker: yeah well Barker: have fun with that

King: you know, clive a lot of science fiction actually deals with important issues in today's society? King: they really make you think [at space coven] Robert Heinlein: so once we space-stead Pinochet's Gulch on an asteroid, we'll be free from the tyranny of age of consent laws

[at space coven] King: so in this story they invent a way to travel through space King: but you have to be unconscious for it to work Frank Herbert: i have a better idea for space travel Herbert: what if you had to get really blasted

Herbert: let me explain my vision steve Herbert: In a distant time Herbert: And far away place Herbert: The planet Arrakis floats deep in space Herbert: Sky of three suns Herbert: Land of precious spice Herbert: The melange rush brought great houses at any price

Herbert: Then one day, a Muad'Dib appeared Herbert: With powers of hawk, wolf, puma and bear Herbert: Protector of peace, scion of the Bene Gesserit ladies Herbert: Champion of justice, Marshall Paul Atreides! King: King: hey how many of those mushrooms did you eat

Herbert: so the important thing about Dune, okay Herbert: is there's all this political intrigue Heinlein: and worms? Herbert: yeah yeah there's gonna be worms Herbert: let's talk about these factions though Heinlein: how big are the worms

Herbert: you're gonna love this story Herbert: though its not as great as the melodic beauty & divine truth of the 114 surahs of the Qur'an Heinlein: Herbert: inshallah Heinlein: why do you always have to put so much islam in it Herbert: i just Herbert: i just think its neat

Mary Shelley: [busting into clearing] sup fuckers Shelley: who's ready for their weekly beating? Heinlein: no! no! not mary shelley! Heinlein: have mercy!!! Heinlein: here, take all our lunch money! Heinlein: just don't punish us anymore!

King: mary! Is this what you've been doing when you come to this campfire? Shelley: [wailing on Heinlein] what? oh yeah, p much.

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen king #clive barker #edgar allan poe #mary shelley #frank herbert #robert heinlein

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meowsgirldrawing · 6 months ago

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What is your obey me mc’s relationship with each of the kids if you don’t mind me asking

Of course!

Varya: (Mammon's Kiddo)

MC and Varya are quite close as Varya is their eldest and first half demon/half human child. Similar to Mammon, Varya usually acts aloof to MC's parental affections- acting unaffected by kisses and hugs but deep down she craves to go back to the moments before she had younger siblings come along and take MC's attention away. Now, MC always make sures to have some time saved for the two to bond as parent and their eldest.

Admittadly however, their relationship did get strained for a short time in Varya's life as she felt she was responsible for her younger siblings' actions growing up. It wasn't until she got older did she and MC decide to work soley on that and allow time for Varya to not feel the oldest and instead like her first child again.

Rhomb(Leviathan's guppy)

Rhomb and MC are close themselves as Rhomb was always the kid that stuck near their or Leviathan's leg whenever they met new people. If a situation were to happen that involved threats towards MC's life, Rhomb is usually one of the first kids to be at their side, growling and scaring off any danger posed to his human parent. Besides some of the brothers, Rhomb is very open with MC, always coming to them if he has an issue or thoughts that won't cease on plaguing him.

MC has at moments to remind Rhomb that he doesn't have to be the sole protector of their family, that they and his fathers are always there to protect each other and the other kids when needed. Similar to Leviathan, MC's also had to show Rhomb they will always love him just as much as his siblings. It was mostly when he was young and got jealous of the attention his siblings received but it has sparked at times so MC cuts in times to spend with him even as he breaches past his early 20s. Out of all the kids, Rhomb is the only one to always remember that they have a human parent out of all 8, and proceeds to get swatted at by MC themselves because his momma/parent isn't weak! (Rhomb- Sorry, Mom)

Lilith the 2nd (Lilly) (Lucifer's pride and joy)

While the two love each other very much and have shown each other in each and every way, Lilith is honestly more close to Lucifer than MC in most ways. However, Lilith is no stranger to coming to her mother/parent when worried about anything personal in her life. Her human side allows her to speak her more emotional thoughts and feelings so MC often encourages her to speak on behalf of Diavolo's plan of uniting the 3 Realms together, which she is an active part of already.

MC to Lillith is like the fun parent to Lucifer's strict parent duo. Lucifer encourages her to stay on top of her grades, a good reputation as his daughter and one of the eldest children of the Avatars of Sin, while MC reminds her to cut loose and let herself be 21 every now and then. Has backfired at some turns of Lilith coming home tipsy with Quinn and the twins (Ryder and River) and getting a large lecture from Lucifer while MC shoots thumbs up behind his back. Overall, very sweet and fun relationship!

Quinn (Asmodeus's lovechild)

Quinn loves his parents, like dearly, but he's kind of a loner compared to his siblings. Ironic when being the son of lust who loves being around people just about 24/7, but it's true. Nothing wrong on his parents' part no, he's just made that way. I would say his relationship with both Asmo and MC is just about the same. Asmo is more hyper and outright affectionate while MC is chiller and more down to earth which he matches with in energy more.

Fun fact: When Quinn expressed his want to get a motorcycle, Asmo was the one freaking out, worried about the dangers while MC simply asked if he was gonna watch himself on it. Quinn thought about it and nodded, thus MC shrugged and said, 'Alright, but if I see you doing anything reckless, I don't care if yer 21, I'mma take it away faster than you can say yer name'. All while Asmo stared at his partner in horror. Yeah, MC has a chill and relaxed relationship with Quinn, possibly because he acts the most mature out of all the kids most times. And I mean most times, MC laughs and calls him an idiot when he does stupid shit but makes sure he's alright like their supposed to.

Libbey (Satan's spawn/not spawn)

When Liberty was a kid, she used to have the worst temper tantrums out of all the kids, enough so if took both MC and Satan to calm her down. To Libbey, MC and Satan keep similar attitudes when it came to raising her. Calm and collected, soothing but not afraid to put their foot down with their hellspawn. Thankfully the young 21 year old managed to learn how to keep her temper in check, but grew anxiety during the years.

Again, Satan and MC have just about the same amount of closeness to her so she's not really 'closer' to just one. She goes to Satan if she's wanting to delve into her book reading and studies, but at the same time, goes to MC when she needs an utter break from the chaos her siblings bring. MC's use to the anxiety talk- having multiple husbands and kids with vast variances of anxiety levels, it's easy to tell when the girl needs a zone out break and lets her get covered in motherly/parental love as the girl destresses with cuddles and a movie night. MC's that parent you go to when life gets too rough and helps with distractions galore!

Ryder and River (Belphie's calfs)

For Ryder, he's also more of a loner to anyone but River. Him and MC tease and poke fun at each other all the time, the 19 year old constantly smacking them with his tail and running as his favorite parent runs after him with a 'son of a b****!' That kid that calls his parents the weirdest names and wonders why people look terrified. (I literally call my mom woman as a joke and seriously get concerned when people's response is 'how are you not dead yet?') While he can poke fun at his mom/parent, no one is allowed to beside his siblings. He once jokingly said his mom is so stupid the one time they accidentally pronounced something wrong at a meeting (MC's the human ambassador in my AU) and when a lesser demon laughed and agreed with him, he immediately dragged the fucker out of the room for a 'talk'. No one questioned him besides Lucifer when he got back and all he said was 'taking care of a stain he saw on the rug'.

For River, he's definitely really close to MC. He yells 'MOM!' anytime they get back and hugs them like he hasn't seen them in so long. It's been 5 minutes. Anyhow, he's the kid that when he saw his dads kiss MC, he would go up, hug them and say 'My mom! Get yer own! >:(' Does that the most to Belphie, the least to Beel. He likes Papa Beel. Honestly scared MC the most growing up. They would find him on the ceiling, the stairway railing hanging by his tail, outside the window rim of the 3rd story, even on the top of the fridge just giggling at their screech. But MC loves their weird, demon child, enough so that they aren't surprised anymore to be globbed into a hug the moment they get home from a trip to the human world. But don't worry, he's always gentle :).

(They act the same to Belphie ngl, Ryder outright calls him curse words with a grin while River is most definitely rougher in his affection)

Frankie (Beel's little bee)

Ah, the youngest little hybrid of the group. And MC sometimes treats her as such without even realizing it. She's always excited to see her momma, has the biggest grin the moment she hears their voice. While she adores the one-on-one time she gets with her mom, she tends to feel bad after a while of it and turns to inviting the rest of her sisters to join. Besides, she already goes to the human world enough with her mom, why would she need even more time in Devildom? Since MC's the human ambassador of Diavolo's plans, they tend to go back and forth alot to the human realm and Frankie tends to follow them along. Perhaps it's because of her more human side, but she feels at home there and even better when she and MC can go do more tame activities together that are slightly more dangerous in Devildom, like hiking, arcades, food places, anywhere.

Frankie's probably the kid that sticks with their mother the most of all of MC's kids, mostly because she's 16 and vastly weaker than her siblings, so its not unusual to see the two wondering around together, clasping hands because Frankie demands it.

Funfact: A kid around Frankie's age from the human realm teased her for still wanting to hold her parent's hand while 16, and when MC wasn't looking, Frankie allowed the side her father gave her to show off. MC turned back around a few minutes later to find a smiling Frankie and the heckler gone.

MC overall has a great relationship with all their kids, some a little more distance than others but if they were able to wrangle a group of 7 demon lords to have better communication and whatnot, I'm sure they can deal with anything their kids throw at them. Also, in my AU, MC is the oldest of her siblings herself so she's used to a full and big house already.

Thank you for the question! ^^💕

#mgd response #oc x canon #oc inserts #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me mackenzie #obey me next gen #obey me x reader #obey me x mc

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odigaon · 1 year ago

Text

soft

summary: oc is friends with the girl of his dreams and after his friend tries to make a move, he takes her to his room and shows her what she’s been missing out on

parings: male pov x thicc! virgin! female reader

word count: 4,945

warnings: loss of virginity, creampie, oral (f. receiving)

he couldn’t help the way his eyes always seem to drift to her. the way her soft, pink lips pursed and stretched to form words, smiles, and various other expressions that he always found endearing. even when she was angry, frustrated tears pooling at her waterline and threatening to spill over as her voice grew louder and her words were coming out choppy and stuttered, as if she was trying to get every thought out at once and her poor mouth struggled to keep up. she was even precious then.

everything about her was soft. nothing on her was sharp unless you counted her tongue and the occasional eyeliner wing she would wear. her soft doe eyes becoming sultry and siren like, suggesting that she knew all of your darkest desires and would make all of them come true.

even then softness seemed to be a quality of hers. he wanted to spend the rest of his life caressing the soft curves of her body.

he knew she wasn’t innocent. far from it actually. from the elfish upward turn of her lips, to the small giggles and loud laughs that would wrack her body when someone told a dirty joke was evidence of that. she was untouched though. no one had ever lain their hands on her body to make her feel as good as she could make herself feel; as good as he could make her feel. no one had ever settled their hands across the wide expanse of her hips or gripped the backs of her thighs to push her knees up to her chest while thrusting into her. he could only imagine what soft sounds he could force out of her by taking her like that. or the pretty faces she’d make as he grazed that one spot inside her that made her see stars.

it was hard for him to be around her. every time she leaned forward to say something to someone his eyes would wander towards the soft fullness of her chest. whenever she expressed any full body emotion her breasts would softly move with her. anytime he hugged her it was pure torture. it became a challenge for him to prevent her from feeling how hard he was, especially since his cock was always so firmly pressed against her tummy.

she was so small compared to him. although her body was quite vivacious in some areas, her size was incomparable to his. his broad shoulders and sharply defined planes of his chest and abs were complimented by the taut muscles that lay underneath his skin. he was everything she wasn’t and vice versa.

pressing her body to him made him feel safe for some reason. breathing in her scent made him feel even safer. he felt like a protector. her protector. anything she could ever need or want him to be: he was always there.

he wanted to tell her how he felt, but self-doubt always made him reconsider.

“what if she doesn’t like older guys?” she’s said multiple times that she does.

“what if she doesn’t feel the same?” both of your guys’ friends have been trying to set you two up for months.

it isn’t until he witnesses one of his best friends sidling up to her during one of their movie nights does he finally snap.

the movie nights weren’t uncommon, in fact, they happened every friday night at 8pm sharp and typically lasted until the last person fell asleep. it was almost always him and her who stayed awake the longest. whispering to each other how their weeks had been, what was happening in the movie (neither one of them knew. they had both stopped paying attention two movies ago.), and the funniest jokes or pick up lines they could think of. occasionally they made it a game to see who could stay quiet the longest, slipping an airpod into an ear and frantically dancing around the living room and kitchen in aims to get the other person to laugh and (accidentally) wake up the others.

this night was supposed to be no different. popcorn had been made, the first movie of the night had been queued up for its excited audience, and everyone had found their respective places in the living room and had settled in.

everyone except her.

she had texted early during the day to say she was going to be late for their weekly movie night and was met with the childish teasing and whining from their friends. after apologizing she had promised to bring ice cream to which she was promptly forgiven and told to take all the time she needed.

he knew she’d be frigid after whatever errands she was running. it was the beginning of december and she had a tendency to get cold in the middle of summer so he had prepared the works for her: fluffy socks, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie (one of his. he liked seeing her in them just as much as she loved wearing them.). he had even gotten her a heated blanket as an early christmas present. call him whipped, but he can’t stand seeing his girl cold.

the beeps of the keypad on the door break him from his thoughts. whipping his head to the door as it opens he’s met with possibly the cutest sight he’s ever seen.

she’s cold. even through the thick layers of clothing bundled around her body and the beanie resting atop her head he can see how badly she’s shivering. her head and arms are covered with a light dusting of snow and her nose and cheeks are dusted with a light shade of pink.

“it started snowing!” she says with a smile lighting up her face as she starts to strip off her outer layers.

“oh really? i thought you were smuggling coke and got a little on you.” one of their friends says sarcastically

her demeanor doesn’t change for a second. “aren’t you excited?! it’s so pretty outside! if i wasn’t so cold i’d go make snow angels!”

he grins at that. after years of growing up and becoming an adult, her childlike innocence and fondness for the simple things never goes away.

he pushes himself out of his designated spot on the couch and swiftly walks to her side to help her shed off the rest of her layers.

“but you are cold, pretty. and you’re not going back outside until i’m sure you’re not gonna catch a cold from being out there already.” he says very matter-of-factly.

“okay. but i have one question for you.” she gestures him closer with the frantic flapping of her hand. intrigued at her behavior he leans down and brings his ear closer to her mouth only to be asked in her somewhat sing-songy voice, “do you wanna build a snowman?”

he leans away from her to get a good look at her face and notices that even though her expression is full of wonder and hopefulness, she is being totally serious with her request.

his laugh comes out more like a scoff, but he acquiesces, “of course i’ll build a snowman with you. but first, we’re getting you changed into some warmer clothes.”

“yay! thank you, thank you, thank you bub!” she exclaims as she throws her arms around him and gives him a small kiss on the cheek. as she scurries off to his room to go change he’s left standing there with his heart fluttering in his chest before he snaps himself out of it and goes to make her a cup of hot chocolate.

•••

this was not the sight he wanted to see.

after making her hot chocolate, he walked back to the living room fully expecting their usual seats on the couch to be empty. instead, he wanders in on his best friend with his girl in their seats. he’s way too close for his liking. her legs are slung over his lap and his arm around her lower back nearly make him drop the steaming mugs in his hand. the stupid fucking smile on his friend’s face while he looks at her with stars in his eyes. she doesn’t even realize the way people look at her. the way she brings so much joy and happiness to people. he loves that about her, but it makes him fucking sick when other people look at her the way only he should. and he tells himself he’s not possessive.

he quickly masks his anger and the shaking of his hands and walks over to where they’re sitting.

“here pretty. made something to keep you warm.”

“hot chocolate! bubs you shouldn’t have!”

“don’t worry about it. can’t let my girl be cold can i?”

“thank you bubs.” she says softly. her shy giggles set him at ease and slightly release some of the tension form her shoulders.

his eyes lock with his friend’s and he hopes and prays his silent warning was received: keep your hands to yourself.

•••

fifteen minutes into the movie and he’s ready to launch himself through the air and strangle his friend. not only did he not receive the silent warning, no, no, no, his friend has taken it upon himself to scoot her further onto his lap and into his hold.

he can’t hold any of it against her. she loves skinship and takes any opportunity she can to be as physically close to people as possible.

her enraptured state in the movie makes her oblivious to most of what’s going on around her: including one of his friend’s arms wrapped around her waist while his other hand is gently moving across her arm.

he swears to god that he sees red.

•••

before he knows it the first movie is over and everyone decides it’s time for a bathroom break.

when his friend gently squeezes her sides in a silent plea for her to get up so he can use the restroom, he thanks his lucky stars and practically bolts over to take his seat when he’s out of sight.

“jesus christ okay i wasn’t expecting that.”

“we always sit together on movie nights. it’s our tradition.” he huffs out unconvincingly.

“uh huh. and it had nothing to do with the way your best friend had me sitting on his lap?”

“oh shit”, he thinks “was i really not that subtle?”

“if you wanted to sit together i could’ve sat with you over there!”

his head falls forward into her shoulder as he releases an embarrassed groan.

“i’m sorry if i seemed like an asshole. i just - “

he can’t get himself to say it. even when she’s looking at him with those soft, hopeful of hers, he can barely look her in the eye and tell her how much she means to him.

“do you wanna go up to your room and talk for a bit? i’m kinda movied out.”

he brightens up a little at her suggestion, and instead of giving her a verbal answer, he swiftly stands up, takes her hand in his and walks her to his room.

•••

“…and then my pants got snagged on an uncovered nail and my whole ass was nearly revealed to the world and you’re not paying attention.”

oh my god she just caught me staring at her lips

“what are you talking about? of course i was listening to you!”

“oh you were, were you? do me a favor and give me the short version of the story i just told you.”

“um it was something about your ass right?” he shyly utters

“of course that’s the only thing you remember. c’mon man! you threw a tantrum because of the seating situation and now that we’re alone and can talk all we want you’re not even paying attention to me! is there something on your mind?” she says while lightly grasping his hands.

god if you only knew what things were going through his mind right now. sure he was distracted, but he was definitely paying attention to you.

“bubs?”

“i’m sorry, pretty. i just have a lot weighing on me right now and i guess i just got distracted.”

“no don’t be sorry! i’ve talking about how clumsy i am this whole time and you have more important things going on. tell me what’s wrong.”

he’s sweating. that much he knows. there’s no way you don’t see his panicked expression or the sweat gathering on his brow.

“i don’t wanna bore you with the details, princess.”

wow that was a first. princess? what the hell were you thinking? wait a minute. is she blushing?

“nothing you talk about could ever bore me. unless you just don’t feel comfortable telling me?”

noticing the slight hurt on her face, his mouth decides to disconnect from his brain and he does the one thing he didn’t think he would ever do with her.

he kisses her.

the kiss isn’t passionate. it isn’t one you see in romance movies, ones that lovers will share together in the rain. or one of the top ten kisses of all time. it’s simple. it only lasts about three seconds. three seconds too long and too short for him.

in those three seconds he realizes that he’s in love with her. but in those same three seconds he realizes one other thing: she’s not kissing him back.

he breaks away from her using every ounce of willpower he has in his body. before he knows it he’s apologizing to her repeatedly.

“oh my god i am so so sorry. i don’t know what came over me. are you alright?”

her silence makes his skin crawl. she hasn’t said a word but she’s continuing to stare right at him.

thoughts of their friendship ending pass through his mind and it makes him sick to his stomach.

this whole interaction probably only takes about a minute, he guesses. but to him, it feels like the longest minute of his entire existence.

he’s in the middle of contemplating where the nearest cliff is that he can go chuck himself off of when he realizes a small finger is looped around the necklace he currently has on. looking up from it, he observes how her tongue peeks out to briefly wet her lips and how her gaze wanders from his eyes down towards his lips. after three quick glances between his eyes and lips, she pulls him forward using her leverage on his necklace and crashes her lips into his.

there’s no battle for dominance, just two people frantically trying to make up for lost time.

she pulls away after a few minutes, breathing heavily.

“why the fuck did it take you so long to do that?” she exasperatedly sighs out

he fumbles with his words, “w-what do you mean?”

“c’mon. you’re telling me that you don’t like me?”

the smirk on her lips makes him want to kiss her to get rid of it. is she really teasing him right now?

“i mean i um. like yeah i think that uh.”

why the fuck can he not form a coherent sentence?

“well i mean i guess if you don’t i’ll just go back downstairs and keep watching movies.”

flashes of his friend kissing her the way he just did along with other less family friendly images fly through his mind and it’s these particular thoughts light a fire underneath him.

steeling his nerves, his hands grasp her hips firmly and he drags her up onto his lap. the noise she lets out is cute, but he isn’t preoccupied with that right now. his hand travels up her waist, up her neck and eventually lands on the side of her face.

“do not act like you’d rather be anywhere but right here.”

and with that, he pulls her in again. this time, however, there’s no frantic urgency in his kisses. he’s planing on taking his time with her. and he wants everyone to hear.

the small squeaks and moans she lets out while he has her in his hold are music to his ears and apparently his cock too. he doesn’t think she realizes what her hands and body are currently doing: desperately grasping at his hair like it’s a lifeline and grinding her hips down into his in slow movements.

it all feels like a dream to him, but he knows how real it is. his mind would never be able to conjure up this scenario. he could never imagine how it really felt to have her like this or what she would sound like with him.

lying down on his back and gently turning so he could be on top of her was probably the best idea he could’ve had. pulling away from her allows him to see how hard her chest is heaving. how her eyes have darkened in lust.

“are you okay with this? we don’t have to go any farther if you don’t feel comfortable.” he whispers out

“i’m um. it’s okay. we can keep going going, but uh. i’m a virgin.”

he laughs lightly at that.

“i know that already silly girl. you’ve told me before, remember?”

he didn’t think it was possible but her face gets even redder than it was before.

“oh. right. sorry.”

“don’t be sorry, pretty. just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

she nods her head silently in response, but he needs to hear her.

“words, pretty. i wanna hear you tell me all the things you want me to do to you.”

•••

he begins by giving her soft kisses. starting at her mouth and making his way down her neck; stopping every few seconds to leave purple and pink blossoms across her skin that he knows will look so pretty on her in the morning. he grasps the hem of her (his) hoodie and t-shirt. looking up to her eyes for confirmation, she smiles and whispers out “it’s okay. you can take it off.”

his lips turn upward at that. he loves her being vocal with him. now he wants to hear more.

he lifts the offending material up and away from her body. as soon as the sleeves are free he tosses them somewhere off behind him. looking down at her like this is a sight he hopes he’ll never forget. she’s only wearing a simple sports bra, but with their movements, her breasts have shifted and are halfway out of the top. he tries not to stare, but the smirk on her face tells him that she caught him already.

“you like what you see or something?”

“shut up.”

with that short remark, he leans down and starts peppering kisses down her neck once more. he places a couple of kisses to the top of breasts and then continues down her tummy; all the way to the waistband of her pants. hearing her breathing quickly leads him to look up to her face once more.

“everything alright?”

“fuck. please just get on with it already.”

damn. he’s never heard her talk like that before.

“someone’s impatient.” he chuckles out.

“eager. i wanna feel you.” she says while reaching out for him.

holy hell. where did that come from?

“slow and steady wins the race, baby. i wanna take my time with you. and you are going to lay back and take it all like a good girl. right?”

he swears her eyes roll to the back of her head. he didn’t realize talking like that would provoke such a reaction.

he curls his fingers into her waistband after tapping her on the thigh to signal her to lift her hips.

“is this okay?”

“yes, fuck just please take them off and stop teasing me so much. i can’t take it anymore,” she sobs out.

“teasing? baby i’ve barely begun to tease you.”

he begins pulling down her pants, but makes sure that her underwear stay on. he can’t reveal what he’s worked so hard for, not yet. after he strips her of the sweats, he haphazardly throws the material behind him, already long forgotten.

and there she is in all her half-naked glory. he swears the sight is enough to have him cumming i’m no time. he holds off though. no way is he going to cut this any shorter than it needs to be.

her eyes wander over him, but make sure to follow every calculated movement he makes. the heaving of her chest leads him to look at her breasts again. he trails his fingers up her thigh, hip, side, and land at the band surrounding her torso.

“can i take it off?”

the frantic nodding of her head paired with the quiet “yes” is all the confirmation he needs.

“arms up.”

once more, he gingerly lifts the garment off her and flings it out of sight.

fuck.

what has he gotten himself into?

he will never be the same ever again.

this woman in front of him is like a visage of aphrodite.

her nipples have started to pebble in the slight chill of the air in his room and god do they look like they’d fit perfectly in his mouth.

leaning down, he begins to press kisses to her lips all while letting his hands trail over her breasts. taking them into his hands, he begins by massaging them and gently pinching and pulling at her nipples. letting his lips wander, he laves kisses down the valley of her breasts and expanse of them before lightly leaving kisses on her right nipple before taking it into his mouth. he lets his tongue drag across it before he applies light suction. he lets his eyes close a minute. to revel in the feeling before opening them again to find her staring at him with big doe eyes. he smirks a little at that and takes his time in making her feel good. he pulls away with a light pop before giving the same attention to the other.

he begins to trail his lips downward towards the waistline of her underwear. he lets her watch him pause, hovering over her covered heat before licking a stripe upwards outside her underwear. he hears her let out a quiet moan and knows he must be doing something right. he settles in between her thighs and grips them tightly in his palms. he starts grinding into the bed all while licking at her through her under wear, soaking the material, and nuzzling his nose into her clit. everything gets to be too much for him and before he knows it he’s sitting up and stripping her underwear down her legs. spreading her legs once again he comes face to face with her newly uncovered pussy and groan out loud. he’s been waiting so long for this and has to stop himself from burying his face between her legs before he’s fully taken it in. she’s so pink and wet. it makes his cock twitch in his pants to think he’s about to taste her properly for the first time.

darting his tongue out, he slowly trails upwards from her soaked entrance to her clit and the both of them moan. loudly. his hips grind into the bed at her noises before he starts to practically make out with her pussy. the taste of her makes him groan continuously while he alternates between licking at her entrance and clit to suckling on both as well. he can tell that she’s already getting close after a few minutes of him sucking more harshly on her clit.

“are you gonna cum? cum for me baby. please. wanna feel you cum all over my face.”

she can’t get any words out, but she nods frantically. he smirks against her pussy again begins to suck more vigorously on her clit. her hips start to grind against his face.

“that’s it baby. use me. use my face to get yourself off.”

her hands thread through his hair and she lets out louder moans. he secretly hopes that his friend can hear how good he’s making her feel. her moans increase in volume until she’s nearly screaming and she cums with tremors wracking her body.

“that’s a good girl. feels so good to finally cum, yeah?”

she’s trembling so hard from the after shocks of the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave her that he almost feels bad for pushing his middle finger into her entrance slowly.

“hnng, oh fuck!”

he pushes in a little deeper to let her get used to it before he pushes another one in. after all, he has to stretch her out for his cock.

her walls are fluttering around his fingers like butterfly wings. the tightness of her is enough to make him cum untouched, but he holds out once again. he begins to slowly pump them in and out of her to prep her walls for him. her moaning starts to pick up again before she whispers out a quiet “faster!” and his fingers start to pick up the pace. her hips begin to grind down into his hand as he watches her lustful eyes. he is intoxicated by her. everything little movement. every little sound has him yearning for her. she whines out a quiet “i’m cumming!” before she’s releasing all over his hand. he keeps postponing his finger in and out of her to draw out her orgasm. her whines, like chopped little hiccups, flow out of her like water. she can’t get any words out but he knows she’s on the verge of cumming again with the way her walls contract around his fingers.

“that’s it baby girl. let go. i got you, yeah?” he whispers out.

with a long drawn out whine she orgasms again. he slows down his fingers before gently pulling them out, earning a small wince from her as well as her walls fluttering at the emptiness. as he places his fingers in his mouth to clean them off, her eyes dazedly watch him as she tries to reach out for his other hand. he watches her grab his fingers, lick her lips, then put them to her mouth. he sucks his fingers clean before puling them out of his mouth and pushing his other fingers into hers. she swirls her tongue around his fingers as if they were his cock and he feels himself twitch in his pants. he lets her have her fun for a few minutes before pulling them out and sliding off the bed to rid himself of his pants and boxers.

he uses his fingers that were just in her mouth to pull his cock out and begin pumping it slowly. her eyes are locked on to his cock and hand that that’s jerking himself off. her chest is absolutely heaving with the after effects of her orgasms he so generously gave her.

“you ready baby? you ready for my cock?” he asks her.

“yes please.” she answers quietly, eyes never leaving him.

he clambers back onto the bed before lining up with her entrance.

“are you okay? are you sure you want to do this?”

all she does is smile at him before pulling him into a sweet kiss. that’s all the confirmation he needs. he prepares himself and slides in and god does he think he dies a little inside.

she’s so tight and wet that he has to remind himself that this is her first time and that he can’t be too rough with his girl.

her wince is enough to pull him from his thoughts.

“do you feel alright baby?”

she nods slowly, “just. wow. you’re big.”

his pride inflates a little before he’s asking her if it’s okay for him to move and she once again tells him she’s okay. he pulls out a little and thrusts back into her. he keeps going at a snails pace before her pussy starts quivering around him again and he speeds up a little. her little moans start to bounce off the walls as he gives her the best first time of her life.

“i-i. i think i’m gonna cum again.” she whispers out.

he takes this as a sign to keep doing what he was doing to get her to her peak. with a slight change in angle, he’s got her right where he wants her. he’s grinding right into her g spot and before he knows it she’s actually managing to cum all over him again. her pussy flutters around him and he takes this as his cue to ask her where she wants him to cum.

“anywhere you want.”

he groans out loud before pistoning his hips faster into her. he’s going to cum inside her. he can’t resist her when she’s like this, all spread out in front of him. his hips pound into her harshly before he’s groaning loudly and releasing into her with a chorus of thank you’s. his head drops into the crook of her neck, leaving kisses there while his hips continue to softly thrust in and out of her.

“was that okay, baby?”

all she does is giggle and leaves a little kiss on the side of his face.

“more than okay. it was better than i could’ve asked for.”

“you deserve it more than anything.”

she just laughs again before holding him tightly to her chest.

“thank you. really. for everything.”

he flips them over to where she’s laying on his chest.

“i love you.” he whispers out

“i love you more.” she whispers back

and just like that, they fall asleep in each others arms to the beating of each others hearts.

#xdh smut #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes smut #xdh hard hours #xdh hard thoughts #xdh x reader #reader insert #male pov #skz x reader #skz smut #bts smut #ateez smut #optional bias x reader #optional bias smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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rayassecretlife · 2 years ago

Text

A different type of punishment

Pairing: Dilf!Jake Sully x 23 year old!Fem!Omayikaya!Reader

PART 1

Summary: even after you gave yourself to your fathers best friend, the two of you try to hide your desire for each other. but when Jake catches you in your own act to satisfy yourself, he can’t help but step in and show you his desire for you is just as strong and can’t be tamed.

Not proof read! Definitely has mistakes :/

Warning(s): Mature language, kissing, corruption kink, unprotected p in v, degradation, marking, Fem!receiving & male!receiving, breeding, praise kink, switch!dom!Jake, Slight angst smut… etc

Being the village princess was never something you loved, and it definitely wasn’t something you wanted for your dating life. The village knew you as the most innocent girl there was and you always played the part, smiling in everyone’s face even if you didn’t want to. Your father always forced you to go out with guys he thought were right for you, urging you to mate so you could start your future. You were 23 and in his eyes, no one would ever catch your eye.

But that was far from true.

Jake sully; your father’s right hand man and best friend in the entire clan. He watched you grow since you were 16, and you always knew him as your protector growing up. Back then, you only ever looked at Jake as just that, but ever since you turned 18, it was like your mind changed completely.

A month ago, you got wasted on your birthday and had sex with the man, but ever since then you hadn’t spoken about it. You hated yourself for what you did and so did he, but the both of you couldn’t steer the fact that it felt so right. Your small body in his large arms, the way his name left your mouth so effortlessly while begging, his eyes on your body whenever you walked past—it all felt like you should’ve been living in a different reality.

You’d get these weird butterflies in your stomach whenever he would lay a hand on your skin, or even just speak to you. You’d find yourself getting these random fantasies in your mind about him daily with the memories of his voice in your ear, and you’d often think of him when you were working.

There was something about how muscular his body grew to be, and how much deeper his accent had gotten over the years that made you so feral for him. It felt like he was teasing you with it whenever he entered a room.

After your birthday, You would catch yourself staring at him all the time, especially when you went hunting. The way the muscles in his back moved when he pulled back his bow, and how his strong hands guided you to repeat his own motions, you always fell so flush in his arms.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help letting your mind roam when you touched yourself, thinking of him above you and how he once was the one touching you. He gave off the exact vibe you wanted, like he could completely destroy you with only a simple touch of his finger.

Which he definitely could.

“Oh, Jake…” why couldn’t you stop yourself? Why couldn’t you think of anyone else that was closer to your age and not forbidden to your love? Only if you had been the same age as him… you would’ve got rid of this desire years ago. Your father was out on a scouting trip till the next morning, and as of right now, your once again chasing your high after someone you shouldn’t be, someone who was far too old for you.

It should creep you out, but the age gap between the two of you only made you want him more, knowing how forbidden it was for him to touch you—it just felt so right. Your eyes are fluttered shut as you run your hands all along your body, not holding back the heavy breaths that escape your throat. You imagine every touch against you is his own, and that alone gets you so needy for more.

You allow one of your hands to lower, fingers finding your begging clit almost instantly. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you twist your nipple between your finger, and push against your clit with intent. Your so caught up in yourself, you don’t even notice the sound of your name being called softly as your throwing your head back in bliss.

“Y/N? I brought you food, kid” Jake is walking around your cave with his eyebrows furrowed, noticing you were nowhere to be found. His ears on the other hand, twitched at the seeping sounds coming from your room.

Your father had instructed Jake to look after you while he was gone for the day, which meant bringing you dinner and checking on you hourly, but you had forgotten. Silly you, right? Forgetting the man you wanted so badly, was coming to watch you?

“Jake…” Your body was hot, almost burning with desire as you recite his name over, slipping one of your fingers in your mouth to muffle your moans. You didn’t have time to pray no one would hear—you already knew what was happening to you.

Your heat was here, and it was coming quick.

Jake sets down the food before making his way to the sound slowly, almost unsure of what was happening. It wasn’t until he stopped in front of your doorway when he realized what it was, what that familiar noise was.

“Oh my… fuck” Jake quickly moves over to lean against the wall that separates the two of you, already feeling his cock twitch at your moans. God, how much he missed them. Although, that’s when he came to a terribly dangerous realization.

“Fuck” He curses under his breath, the sweet smell of your pheromones filling his nose. You were definitely entering your heat, your small was far too strong to not be. Even if he could leave before, he definitely couldn’t now. Your smell affected him, and he could already feel his loincloth growing tighter by the second.

“Jake, I’m… m’gonna come…” His ears perk high when he hears his name leave your gentle mouth, and his feet are threatening to carry themselves through your doorway, wanting so badly to make himself known.

Jake sat there for what felt like forever listening to you, praying to Eywa for strength to get him through this. He didn’t want to ambush you, the two of you barely even spoke since your birthday. It was only miscommunication but neither of you knew that. Jake wanted to be there for you, he wanted to help you but he also knew you probably weren’t in the best mindset due to your heat, which made it so hard for him to make a decision.

But dammit, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Your smell… your words—they were too strong.

He slowly pulls back the cloth from your doorway slightly, hesitantly entering to find you still too wrapped up in yourself to even notice he was there. He watches in awe as your hand roams your body, while the other is rubbing fast circles to your clit in an effort to chase your edge.

Jake sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he approaches your bed, bending down so he could watch your every move. Just as your about to release, he grips your wrist, pulling your hand off of your body which all made you gasp and snap your eyes open.

“J-jake!” You stutter nervously, his face is dangerously close to your own, and the flashbacks from your birthday are already starting to seep into your mind. He only chuckles, releasing you from his grasp as he stands straight back up, shaking his head in amusement. “How long… how long have-“

“I heard everything, Peach” Your heart on the ground when he says that, but he looks so confident in himself when it leaves his mouth, like he was proud that you thought of him when you touched yourself. “You forgot I was coming, didn’t you?”

You nod sheepishly, sitting up straight on your bed. “I… I think my heat is here” Your hands cover your body as if he’d never seen it before, his eyes burning holes into your own. He found this funny, didn’t he? You were so embarrassed for so long, but then you remembered how you were that night on your birthday—and how he couldn’t resist you.

Your urges were growing by the second just by his strong scent, and he looked even better then before in this light.

Which is exactly why you removed one of your hands from your body and moved it to the back of his neck, crashing your lips against his in only a second. Jake’s large hand wraps around your neck as soon as your lips touch, and you can’t help but moan against him while letting your free hand roam his strong arms.

It was clear this was long overdue. The two of you had been craving each other since your birthday, and this was only the beginning of the trouble you’d get yourself into.

But Jake was quick to pull away, his hand still strong against your throat. “You think it’s that easy, Peach?” Your looking at him for guidance on what he wanted but he only smirks, leaning down till his lips brush the lobe of your ear. “You’ve been a real brat lately, don’t you think? Teasing me and giving me those dirty looks in public—you really thought I’d let that go?” He chuckles, taking your lobe between his teeth, gently pulling it down before releasing. “I was planning on being nice to you tonight, but seeing as you already got started without me… I think i have to punish you”

“What if i want you to?” Every word that escapes your mouth only makes him chuckle more. Didn’t you know you were playing with fire? Jake was already holding back as it is, trying his hardest not to fuck you senseless right there in that moment. “I’ve been thinking about you all month, touching myself to the thought of you above me again”

Your teasing words make his cock twitch against his loincloth and he grips your chin between his fingers, making you look directly at him with that cocky smile of yours. “Lay back, keep your legs open” his voice is demanding while his breath is hot against you, sending shivers down your spine as you follow his orders. Jake couldn’t take his eyes off your figure, you looked so good like this, like a complete slut.

You prop yourself onto your elbows to watch the man in front of you, taking in his large figure with those pretty doe eyes he loved so much. “Can’t I take that off for you?” You ask through batted lashes and he already knows what your thinking. He shakes his head, sitting on his knees on the ground so his head was level with your body, making more butterflies explode inside your stomach. He was so close, almost apart of you.

He pulls your legs to the edge of the bed, and he’s quick to grab the hand that immediately reached down for his head, raising an eyebrow to you. “You wanna be a good girl, right?” He tsked and you nod desperately, removing your hand back to your side. “Then take your punishment so I can treat you like one” Before you can even reply, his warm mouth is already closed around your bud, and you couldn’t seem to stop the gasp that escaped your lips.

His tongue is hot against your beating clit with his hands harsh against your thighs, keeping you in place as he grows completely lost in your taste. Soft moans leave your mouth while you fight with yourself to keep your hands off him, digging your nails into the loom fabric under you. Those fantasies you were having the past month all flood your head at once, and you couldn’t stop your high from rushing back.

“Jake…!” You were so sensitive from your previous actions that you knew you couldn’t hold it much longer, especially when he slipped two of his large fingers inside you at once. “Ja—fuck! M’gonna come if you don’t-“

“Not until I say so” His words are harsh against your cunt, almost getting angry with how impatient you had been. You cry out a begging please and reach down to grip his thick dreads, clenching around his fingers as they plunge into your dripping wet core. You could hear the sounds it was making as he devoured you, almost as if you were to be his very last meal.

He was way too good at this, there was no way you could hold off. Having already been edged when he interrupted you earlier, he was putting you through much more torture now.

“Please, Jake! Want you inside… wanna come!” Your words are molded together when you throw your head back, practically crying for him to let you release. His fingers kiss your cervix so perfectly you were sure they were made for you—sure he was made for you. Jake wants nothing more then to watch you, but he’s so lost in your body he can’t help but shut his eyes, enjoying the moment you had together that you both knew wouldn’t come around again till after awhile. You could feel a bigger pit in your stomach surface, and you knew that’s exactly what he was looking for the entire time.

“That’s it, Kid. You can come—fuck, scream my name. Tell me how bad you want it” His praising words make you almost immediately let go, allowing your back to arch off the bed and your fingers to grip his hair tighter, pushing his face closer to your core. You scream his name without much effort, and he’s still cleaning you up with his tongue, curling his fingers inside you to help ride out your high.

“Jake—Sir, it’s too much!” That name… you were in for it now. Sir? Now that, was the girl he knew. When he’s satisfied with his job, he stands to his feet and removed his fingers from inside you, both of you watching how your slick coats them effortlessly.

Jake doesn’t waste a second before he has a hold on your throat again, pulling you off the bed so he could push you down to your knees, lifting your chin so he could see your face. “Open that pretty little mouth of yours, peach” Your quick to listen, laying your tongue out on full display for him to push his fingers inside your warm mouth, while his free hand strokes your hair. “Such a dirty girl… I’ve missed you so much”

You hum around his fingers, twirling your tongue around them until you got every bit of your slick off of them. Your hands are working to untie his loincloth as soon as he pulls his digits away from you, and your growing impatient when the knot gets stuck so you can’t untie it.

But finally, you pull it off and his painfully hard cock springs free, earning a small sigh from the man above you. “Been thinking of this cock for so long… I wanted it so bad, Sir” Jake chuckles, placing a hand under your chin while taking his length in his other, teasing it’s tip against your soft tongue.

“My dirty girl, it’s all yours” And it was. Every word he muttered was nothing but the truth and you both knew it. Jake was too old for you, but he didn’t care anymore. He loved you, and he’d admit that over and over if he had to—if it wouldn’t ruin both of your reputations.

Walking around with that sway in your hips and that smirk on your face whenever you walked past him, you drove his absolutely insane. He saw the way other men looked at you, like you were theirs to claim or something. Jake couldn’t stand to watch you flirt or hear other males fantasize about you, he wanted nothing more then to make it known you were his.

And in a perfect world, he would do exactly that.

But the two do you couldn’t afford that, and it was already dangerous enough how the two of you were sneaking around once again.

Your eyes are watering from the impact against your throat, allowing the tip of his length to kiss the back, earning a small gag from your mouth which only got him harder then before. Jake doesn’t hold back when he fucks your face, keeping a tight hold on your soft hair to steady you in place. He was using you, and you loved every second of it.

“God, I can’t win with you, Kid” Just as you feel his cock pulse inside your mouth and taste the small beads of pre that leaked onto your tongue, Jake pulls himself from you, pulling you up to your feet almost instantly.

“Did I do bad, Mr. Sully?” You ask cockily, already knowing the real reason he pulled away. The man pushes you back harshly until your back hits the stone wall of the cave, and you find yourself encased between it and his large body.

“Just stop talking and bend that pretty ass over for me, Yeah?” You giggle and it makes his heart flutter, never tearing his eyes from your body as you turn around, placing your hands on the stone ledge with your ass already pushed against his abdomen. You let out a blissful hum when his hands grab your hips, definitely making a mark of his fingers against your skin.

He moves one of his hands to tangle inside your long hair, pulling it back to force your head toward him. “My sweet little girl, need you to be the loudest you can be. M’gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never be able to look at your bed without thinking of me” His breath is hot against your ear as you moan out a yes, scratching your nails along the stone under them.

“Oh, Jake… You have no idea how badly I’ve craved your dirty words in my ear” And in only a second, he was pushing into you all at once, earning the sharpest gasp from your mouth. “F-fuck!” You could feel his cock stretching you with every small thrust, along with the slight sting of his nails that dragged along your hips.

He captured your neck between his lips, sucking on your sweet skin like he had been savoring it, all while sending you slow and meaningful strokes.

“Just relax for me, I’ll make it feel so good” He whispers against your ear and you could only moan. You knew he would—great mother, he would take all night inside you if you’d let him. You could feel your heat creeping up on you slow, and you couldn’t help the hand that moves between your bodies to find your sensitive bud. You were afraid Jake would yell at you but he did the exact opposite. “This is the only time you should ever touch yourself. Only when I’m buried inside you, Peach”

Jake praises against your neck with a shaky breath, taking in your alluring scent that only made him more possessive over you. That scent, he didn’t want any other male to ever smell you, especially in your heat. Your cunt is warm and inviting around him, welcoming his length with more and more slick covering it, as if inside you was his home.

Which it was.

You rub circles against your clit to near you to your edged release, but you didn’t want it to end. You feared this would be the last time the two of you slept together, but you were sure it wasn’t. Jake couldn’t stay away from you—not now.

“M-mark me again?” You ask sweetly, making Jake curse under his breath. You could already feel his fangs brushing your soft skin, itching to puncture the same mark he made on your birthday. He wanted nothing more than to give you everything you wanted, and he couldn’t deny that he was holding back so harshly. “I’m so tired of sneaking around, Jake. Mark me… please just mark me”

“Your heat is taking over, Sweet thing. So needy now, let me take care of you” He whispers against your neck as he pushed your hair away from the back of it, trailing his tongue along the old mark. At this point, you can feel the small pit in your stomach surface, all at the same time his fangs puncturing your skin once again.

“Ngh! I’m… Jake I’m so close…” You whimper against the stone, rubbing your clit faster to match his sped up strokes. He soon retracts his teeth from your skin once he’s satisfied with his markings, a smirk pulling at his lips as he examines it. You yelp when he pulls you back onto him, and all that could be heard was the sweet sounds of your skin slapping against each others.

“Does my good girl want to come?” You cry out a yes at his obvious question, begging words slipping from your mouth the closer he drew you to your end. Jake chuckles, pressing his body against yours when he snakes his arms around your body, keeping you as close as he could to his own. “Want you to scream my name when you come—Make daddy so fucking proud, Tanhì” You whimper loudly when he begins to snap his hips against yours, hitting the spot you so desperately begged him to over and over again.

“I’m coming, Jake!” You inform in a gasp but he continues, leaving bruising kisses along your body that he couldn’t help but smile at. He was destroying your body and you were letting him. You were letting him use you. “Please—fuck! I can’t-“

“Come on, Baby. You wanna be my good girl, right? Make me happy—come for me!” You’re practically sobbing against the stone when you come undone, screaming his name so loud you were almost positive people heard. Jake is quick to reach between the two of you to rub your clit continuously, loving the sounds of your sweet whimpers under him.

“S’too much! Fuck!” Jake stands back up to watch your slick spray onto him and the floor under you, painting it all with your sweetness and topping it all off with your loving moans. Your wetness covers Jake’s fingers and length when he pulls out of you, watching your tired body slouch against the stone ledge.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, baby” You whimper loudly when he picks you up and places you on the ledge, pulling your bottom to sit just at the end of it so it pressed against his abdomen. “Open” He mumbles, pressing his fingertips against your lips until you obey, sticking your tongue out for him to slip his fingers inside.

You could feel the heat between your legs slowly build up once again, and Jake noticed almost immediately. His free hand is firm against your hips, muffling your moans with his large digits against your tongue. Your body was on fire the minute he slipped himself back into you—almost as if you were whole again.

“That’s it… Taking me so well. You missed daddy as much as I missed you, hm?” Jake reaches down to grab hold of the back of your neck, pulling you to sit up a bit to the point you could watch the way your hips collide. You nod desperately and lay a hand on his chest, nails clawing at his beautiful blue skin until they leave marks. “God, you’re so beautiful—wish I could breed you… I—fuck, Y/N” You watch as Jake lets out many uncontrollable grunts and you knew he was close, especially when he pulled his fingers from your mouth to cup your face.

“Please” Your words come out softly when your eyes lock on his own, lips trembling in a pout as you lay a hand on the side of his neck, moaning at every little stroke he sent you. “I want you—only you” Your words are as true as Eywa, and Jake doesn’t miss the way you look at him with pure love in your eyes—but his mind couldn’t fathom the weight of what you had said, staring at you while his heart raced horribly fast.

“Kid…” He trails, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he lays his forehead against your own, strokes slow and passionate while hitting the very depth inside you. “I… you know we can’t-“

“I love you, Jake” No, you didn’t. You didn’t love him, right? You couldn’t… he couldn’t… Jake tries to collect himself but his end is nearing him hot and fast, completely dismissing the words you just let slip from your mouth. “I want all of it, Jake. I want all of you!” You gasp at the sudden snap of his hips, pressing your hand against sweat-drenched chest.

“Stop sayin’ that, Peach. You know I can’t do that. You’re in heat, I’ll get you pregnant and then-“

“And then we won’t have to hide anymore” before you could say anything else, His lips come crashing against your own, and the simple repeating snap of his hips told you everything you needed to know. He couldn’t possibly do this, could he? He hated himself so much right now—you weren’t crazy or making up feelings, he did love you. He loved you so much but he didn’t want to ruin anything between you and your father.

The war inside Jake’s mind fogged his thoughts and he could only squeeze his eyes shut at this point, feeling his end nearing. Your small hands claw his large chest and arms, moaning against his lips to which allowed him to slip his tongue past yours. Your stomach was rumbling with butterflies and pure lust, drunk off the man above you but also so pleading for him to tell you he loved you too.

“Damn it, Kid. Your unbeatable” His hoarse voice is vibrating against your lips, and you could hear the slight anger in his voice but he made an effort to calm himself—his frustrated state that was slightly threatening to break. You let out multiple cries against him as he snaps his hips, and you soon felt that twisting feeling in the pit of your stomach once again—squeezing him tighter inside you till he could barely move. “Y/N, I can’t—we can’t… shit”

His cock is throbbing against your walls, begging to release inside of you. He couldnt get over how good you felt, how you had just given him consent to breed you. Jake couldn’t hold himself much longer, and now he needed you to come before he could.

“Jake…!” Jake groans with his face twisting in pleasure and a small amount of pain from your nails digging into his skin, his breathing hot and fast as he pulls in and out of your dripping wet center. “I-I’m… Mmph!” You crash your hand against your mouth in attempt to muffle your very loud, ear piercing moans but Jake is quick to remove it, coaching you through your high that was surfacing quickly.

“Loud as you can be, remember? My gorgeous girl… feels so fucking good” He utters against your ear in another guttural groan, gripping your hips tightly when you tried to move away from him. But all Jake could think about was how good you felt, and how badly he wanted to give everything up for you in this moment. “Such a dirty girl but you’re mine, huh? Yeah. Your mine”

But you couldn’t listen anymore, you couldn’t go another second without being against his body, you couldn’t go another second without pressing your lips into his—which is exactly why you kissed him until it felt like you couldn’t breathe, until it felt like he was the only thing in the world, and in that moment he didn’t care anymore.

You push your hands into his hair with every grunt that leaves his mouth, and your eyes are stuck on his hand that releases your hip to grab his queue. He doesn’t waste a second before connecting it with your own, and you both watch as your pupils shoot bigger, and it had officially pushed Jake over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” He whimpers against your neck and grips your skin once again, sending one final snap of his hips into you until he couldn’t bury himself further, spilling his messy seed inside of your perfect cunt. Sweet moans leave your mouth at the hot sensation inside you, and your hands caress the man above you, your heaving chests and heavy breaths filling the entire room with echoes.

You can tell your heat is effecting him when he’s fighting to stay above you, laying his head against your body because he didn’t want to pull out of you just yet. Your hands roam his hair gently, pulling on little strands between your fingers with the softening hum of your voice.

“Jake” You call to him gently, voice filled with lust. That was all he wanted to hear; you saying his voice over and over. He wished for a future where he woke up to you calling his name, or calling him for meals and to feed your future children. He wanted to regret it—believe Eywa he wanted to, but he just couldn’t.

In just a second, he’s laid next to you breathless, and wrapping his arm around your limp body to comfort you. The two of you are drenched in sweat and feelings, almost as if you couldn’t believe what had just happened. You’re quick to swing your leg over his own to lay against his chest, and you hugged him torso like you had been afraid of him leaving again, but you should’ve known that wasn’t possible.

“I don’t care what people think, I want you to be mine all the time. I want the people to know I’m yours, Jake. I want-“ You try to confess but your voice is almost immediately cut off by his lips against your own once again, this time passionate and sweet to cease your rambling. You hum against his lips when he cups your face and pulls away only a small amount from your face, and for a second your scared of what he might say—but he only smiles softly, leaning his forehead against your own.

“I love you too, Peach”

I feel like this was so bad but I’m rusty so…

Taglist: Taglist: @mashiromochi @luvagirlsworld @doggyteam2028 @angelsamor @lu-the-ghost-reader @tejas-kris @jakescumdump @viajaeger @myh3artttt @erenswife5 @rinizitos @luz15sstuff @lalamac125 @countryandsweetbabygirl @queenmizuki @neytirishottie

Since you liked part 1 😏: @goddesslilithmoriarty @bandomonia @marybby @sweetllamaparadise @crazy4books1 @netey6m @bestwlwmonster

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