#she’s served queen even before she was one

[power-rings]

Light Consorting with Shadows (Collab)

Chapter 10: A New Plan

Collab with @e-vay!

Everything happened so quickly, that Sonic hardly had time to fit into his armor. His ears pricked in alarm when he heard a startling scream outside. With his speed, he was out of the palace. Sonic had expected to see Doom, and perhaps some soldiers that he assigned, but, to his surprise… he saw these blueish gray creatures emerging in what appeared to be thin air. He saw Lancelot already fighting against three of them near the gate. After spin-dashing one of the creatures into the side of the palace, he searched his surroundings, looking for Amy, and their teenage daughter. Hoping perhaps they were inside the palace… Would the palace even be safe anymore? He was attacked by three smaller creatures, before Percival defended the King. Sonic quietly nodded, grateful for her speedy save. One by one, he and Percival kept knocking the intruders down, the pair finally catching a break when reuniting with Lancelot. Under the dark hedgehog’s helmet, their gazes met. Whatever was spoken between them earlier that morning, was put aside. They had more concerning matters at hand. “I think Amy and Rory are still inside the castle. Help them get to the bunkers with the others.” Without another word, his best knight obeyed and in haste made his way to the castle.

The evasion seemed to have come to a stand still, and all of the knights gathered around the King. “Make sure that the bunkers are heavily guarded. Gawain? Check to make sure no one is still in their homes. Percival? I want you to take your spot at the north tower.” Sonic had a feeling that this wasn’t gonna be the last time they’ll see these alien-like beings. His eyes darted in the direction of his family exiting the castle. The royal family made their way out of the gate, and made haste to their safe haven. Sonic stopped at the entrance to their temporary underground home. As Sonic, and the queen spoke quietly, the king kept an eye on Lancelot and Aurora near the entrance of the stone perimeter around them. Amy got his attention, when she squeezed his hand. Worried in her jade eyes, but she trusted her king fully.  Of course, as always, Sonic told her to wait for him. They embraced tightly, as if afraid to let the other one go. 

Aurora lingered with her father…The king reached out his arm to hug his daughter farewell, but the princess remained still with her lips pursed.

“You need to get to safety with your mother.”

“But I can help!” she pleaded, clasping her hands. 

“No,” Sonic stated simply. “War is no place for a princess.”

Tears welled up in the pink hedgehog’s eyes. “Then what is my place? My purpose? Isn’t it to serve the people–the land I love? How can I be expected to watch you and everyone in our kingdom risk your lives while I sit idly by?”

Sonic attempted to look away, an attempt to hide his emotions just as his armor shielded his body, but his daughter reached up and held his face in his hands. She turned him back to look her in the eye.

“I can fight,” she urged. “Lancelot has been training me for this. Please, let me fight with you and the other knights. Let me protect our kingdom. I can do this.”

The king grimaced at the mention of Lancelot’s name on his daughter’s lips, but there was truth to her words. Aurora had been training with the best of his knights, which would make her plenty capable in battle. Still, Sonic wouldn’t allow himself to sacrifice his daughter so easily. He would only allow Aurora to fight if it were the very last resort.

He placed his hands firmly on Aurora’s shoulders. Brows furrowed, he gave her a weak smile. There was a sense of sadness behind his emerald eyes and for a moment she was no longer speaking with ‘a king,’ but with her father. “I know you’re strong enough… And that’s why I need you to go with your mother. Keep her safe. For me?”

It wasn’t what she had asked for, but it was a step in the right direction. Soon enough, she’d be able to prove herself.

“I will,” Aurora nodded weakly. She quickly hugged her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning on her heel and sprinting off to the safe haven.

As he watched Aurora join her mother, and slowly leave his sight. He started to truly realize something. His daughter was no longer his baby girl, anymore. As any parent, it pained him to realize this. However, Sonic couldn’t be more proud of her for standing her ground for their kingdom. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t dwell on his pride for his now young-adult daughter. More creatures were coming from all around them, not hesitating a moment to attack. Flying creatures even hovered above them, occasionally attacking them when one was distracted with their “siblings” that fought on the ground. 

It felt like hundreds of these alien’s kept coming from out of nowhere, while they held a handful from the perimeter surrounding the bunker where the townspeople were huddled together in safety, more and more climbed the stone walls and attacked the archers, and the knights that were ordered to help were on their tail and tossed over like a rag, not standing a chance.

Everything froze. All the creatures suddenly dropped.

Doom had made his arrival. Both Sonic and Lancelot could feel him; and the chaos energy that surged through him. 

“How disappointing, my son.” Doom spat at the ground, and slowly approached the two hedgehogs. His eyes narrowed coldly from the King to Lancelot.  “Together we could have ruled this land, instead, you choose to die to defend his throne?” His crimson eyes darted toward Sonic.

Lancelot scowled, “indeed.” Rage was still fresh towards his estranged father, after the event that took place only days ago. 

Doom scoffed, “so be it. If my army doesn’t destroy you… “ He grabbed Lancelot by the collar, “I will destroy you. After I kill your King.” Before Lancelot could attack him, he was gone. A dark cloud taking his place near his opponents.

Lancelot glanced back at the royal highness, Sonic’s emerald gaze scanned their surroundings. “We need to get those Chaos Emeralds back, Lancelot.” The king never looked at him, staying focused on the view of his palace standing on the hill. Perhaps, Doom would be waiting for them there. Doom’s mission was crystal clear. Now that Doom was out of sight, slowly his army became alive. Perhaps he had paralyzed them like he had done to Sonic, and the others the other day? Before Lancelot could even turn around to withdraw his sword, and decapitate his opponent, Sonic grabbed the Knight by the arm, and was pulled away from the battle. “I have an idea.” 

Five lanky creatures discovered them just a few feet away, Lancelot and Sonic quickly took care of them, soon they all lay lifeless at their feet.

Lancelot took this chance to remove his helmet, and wipe his sweaty brow. “What’s your idea, sire?” Although he trusted Sonic with his life, he was always known for not making plans, or at least taking them seriously. All of a sudden, the king swung a fist. Lancelot was taken off guard, stumbling back. 

It wasn’t rare that the two hedgehogs would spar from time to time, but in the heat of a battle? “C’mon, hit me.” Perhaps, the king was starting to lose his mind. When the knight didn’t hit him, Sonic attacked him again. “You don’t usually hesitate like this, Sir Lancelot.” Sonic laughed, and dodged Lancelot aiming for him. 

“This fight is not with you, my King-”

“... But if we could use our wits to fool him.” Sonic stopped the brawl between them, his hands on the knight’s shoulders. “We can get the Chaos Emeralds back.”

Lancelot blinked at him, “we could win this.” Sonic grinned from ear to ear, and then looked over the knight’s shoulders back at the battle. They both mutually agreed to help the other knights fend off a large number of aliens, before they would carry out their plan.

 Several feet away, it seemed like a larger number were attacking the stone perimeter that protected the sanctuary underground. Sir Percival, Gawain, and several other armored guards were attacking their opponents from all around them, swords piercing the chests of these aliens, or arrows aimed at their heads before they could even climb all the way to the top of the perimeter. Meanwhile, some of these creatures were near the entrance that was quite hidden from the naked eye. Guards that held their place on the top of the tower soon jumped down to block their attempt of a break-in.

When Lancelot, and the King felt like they would never be able to head back to the palace - when a bulky alien creature suddenly started to charge toward them, Lancelot took this chance, and muttered an apology to his king, as he although very hesitant, hitting him below the armor just inches from his groin. Sonic had been hurt several times before in his past life, especially any friendly compact with his faithful knight. He was almost numb to the pain, but had to admit it hurt like hell when Lancelot’s fist made contact. Lancelot whispered something into Sonic’s ear, and he immediately played along and fell to his knees. While Lancelot, lifted a hand toward the Alien. “Halt. Take me to your master. ” To his surprise, the creature actually froze in place. It grunted, and then glared at the “injured” King, before stomping ahead, leading them in the direction of the palace; perhaps they had assumed right that Doom was waiting for them in the throne room. 

What a coward, Lancelot thought. He worried slightly that this plan wouldn’t even work. What was the next step if they had tricked Doom? How would he win the Chaos Emeralds back? He had a feeling that he would have to do the planning from there.

Instead of familiar, and friendly faces at the gate… stood two more aliens that were much taller than the alien that led them in this direction. Much easier to knock out, quite frankly. Lancelot noted. But, he resisted; they didn’t need to draw unnecessary attention.  

Soon, the gates opened, and they stepped inside. More of Doom’s army were scattered here and there, snarling, and some of the smaller creatures even snapped at Sonic’s feet. Which, he just kicked off. From behind, the bulky alien shoved at Sonic, and snarled a warning. 

When they finally reached the stone steps leading into the palace, the king started trying to get out of Lancelot’s grasp. Almost catching the knight off guard. They had to keep the act going. Sonic proceeded to fight against his grasp as they approached the throne room. As expected, Doom was sitting in Sonic’s seat. 

Sonic, remember to burn that chair after we win this. The king noted, disgusted that Doom’s rear-end was in his chair.

One of the alien-soldiers approached Doom, and kneeled. If he spoke to Doom, neither of them heard it, or could understand it. Lancelot proceeded with the plan, and hurled the King towards his estranged father. 

Sonic grunted as if the fall knocked the wind out of him. The alien quickly jerked aside, and allowed Doom to step down towards the King. His brow rising in disbelief. “Finally, did you come to your senses?” Doom leaned down to take off Sonic’s helmet, and tossed it aside. Sonic proceeded to play defeated, and weak.

Lancelot panicked slightly, and stepped forward. “Wait, Father…” The knight almost puked when he even used that word to describe such an evil being. “Mustn’t you end him this quickly?” He trailed off in thought, trying to find the words without giving them away, and costing both of their lives. “Shall we let him suffer by seeing his kingdom fall, before you end his life?” 

Doom hesitated, quite intrigued with his son’s plan. 

“Together. You and I. Like you wanted.” Lancelot could have sworn that Doom’s eyes beamed in excitement. If he could hold such an emotion. 

Doom cackled loudly, his laughter echoing throughout the palace. “Brilliant.” The dark hedgehog turned to one of his soldiers, “take him to the cell.” Doom also advised them to heavily guard the cell Sonic would be in. 

“I’ll take him.” Lancelot offered. He honestly wasn’t sure whether Sonic would actually be killed on the way to the cell. He couldn’t have that. Thankfully, Doom didn’t question his son. The soldiers lingered back, while Lancelot picked Sonic up and “dragged” him towards the prison. It has honestly been awhile since Lancelot actually walked down these stairs, Sonic hardly liked to lock anyone up. Unless, they had been guilty of murder. When they reached an empty, and dusty cell, they both waited to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

Sonic was grinning from ear to ear. “Way to go. Boy, you even had me fooled for a moment there.” 

Lancelot hushed him. “I’m not sure about this, sire. What’s next?”

The king shrugged, “I didn’t think we would get this far, Lancelot.” Sonic lowered his voice, “don’t look at me like that,” Sonic’s voice got high-pitched under Lancelot’s gaze, “… I did bring this.” Hidden in his quills was a familiar Chaos Emerald, although it lacked its appeal like the real one. They could use it to their advantage. Or at least… Sonic could easily escape when he needed to. Perhaps, he could even use this one to find the Chaos Emerald that Doom had taken.

Lancelot shook his head. “Let’s pray to the gods it’ll work. I’ll figure out how to coax the Chaos Emeralds out of his grasp.” Sonic beamed, and gave him a thumbs up. “Now, get in your cell.” The knight encouraged, slightly too amused with the situation than he actually should be. Lancelot watched the King hesitate, but Sonic trusted him. He wouldn’t be here too long. Lancelot was worried though. What if Sonic was caught with the fake Chaos emerald? What if fooling Doom won’t be as easy as they had hoped. They got this far… so, they couldn’t back away now.

The knight felt Doom’s eyes on him, as he returned upstairs. He expected the older hedgehog to speak, but he was silent. “Ahem. What happens now?” Lancelot searched their surroundings. Taking notice of the damage inside the palace. If they win this, they have a lot of work to do. The knight cursed himself for not getting rid of Doom quicker. He also hated that he was away from Aurora, and the rest of the citizens that were safe in their fort. Or, at least for the time being. How long would it take before they break through? Doom’s soldiers were persistent. Too many lives were at risk. Lancelot felt like he shouldn’t linger much longer, but what of Sonic? Their plan? 

--

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Next: Coming Soon

[dirtytransmasc]

if they don't give Helaena one scene that doesn't strip her of her agency or just treat her like fodder, I'm gonna scream. if they don't give Helaena one scene with her dragon, I'm gonna scream. if they don't give Helaena one, better yet, multiple, scenes with Aegon, her brother, her husband, the father of her children, I'm gonna scream.

[c0rpsedemon]

my naming scheme for the resurrectionists causes me undue stress a lot of the time but when it works it Works

[moonlightrafe]

The Albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[bbygirl-aemond]

okay now that i've slept on this episode (and watched the behind the scenes) i want to talk more about this idea of rhaenyra as a cult leader who has completely drunk her own kool-aid. it's an a+ development for her character and i truly hope the writers continue to lean into it further.

hotd has built up this idea of dragons being a conduit for the divine from the very beginning of season one, when viserys and rhaenyra talk about how the targaryen's perceived proximity to the gods comes via their control of dragons. earlier in season two we also heard the smallfolk describe the dragons as invulnerable gods during the parading of meleys's head. this is a deliberate narrative that the targaryens have cultivated (as jace pointed out) to provide themselves with a divine mandate to justify their rule.

this idea of the dragons as a divine mandate is beginning to intersect with the conqueror's dream for rhaenyra in a fascinating way. rhaenyra has always placed more importance on the conqueror's dream than, say, daemon or jace, but this episode goes much further, and is full of rhaenyra talking about being given signs and instructions from the gods. i think addam claiming seasmoke was a transformation for her- she was smiling and had this look of near elation once he claimed her as queen.

i think she genuinely believes that the gods broke the rules of dragon claiming in order to give her a loyal dragon rider right when she needed one. we then see this same elated smile again when she successfully brings vermithor to heel.

each of these little moments is something she takes as confirmation that she's being aided by the gods. this is why she is so convinced that the dragon seeds who claim vermithor and silverwing will be loyal to her- she has convinced herself that all of this is the gods signaling to her and that they will bring her loyal dragon riders the way they brought her addam. the dragon tamers point out what rhaenyra is not willing to acknowledge; these are not true signs from the gods, but things that rhaenyra herself is reading into and arranging for herself. she is seeing what she wants to see. and this will be proven true when hugh and ulf betray rhaenyra, likely due to rhaenyra's own actions in locking the dragonseeds in to die. they were not loyal believers sent from the gods to serve her; they were just men, and she's given them the fantasy equivalent of nuclear missiles.

a large part of this belief in divine validation is definitely due to rhaenyra's own deep seated insecurity due to viserys neglecting her in her childhood and her small council not taking her seriously enough, but i also think this is a coping mechanism on rhaenyra's part. she has no choice but to lean into this war as fully as she can now, to describe herself as helpless in the wake of what the gods have set before her, because she needs her losses to mean something. she needs visenya's death and luke's death to mean something. she needs the loss of her relationship with alicent to mean something.

but in doing this, she is already beginning to push others away from her. she has lost the support of the dragon tamers, and she has also pushed away jace; when he confronted her about a valid concern about how this would make his own ascension even more fraught, she just parroted more of that divine mandate nonsense back to him, which he is clearly not buying. i'll be curious to see how much deeper she falls into this cultish spiral and how much more it costs her.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ Blue or Orange ? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x fem reader

summary : when the shimmer athlete meets the speed athlete

tw : fluff, a little chaos, suggestive

fc: Claire Wolford *she is so pretty-*

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫 AND before anyone jumps on me for using Daniel, it’s just one comment and the meme was started by him !!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by victoriakalena, chandidayle, kelsey_w, landonorris and 87,290 others

ynwolford Thunderstrucked Vegas 💫✨

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user1 the dream life ✊🏻

user2 THUNDER!! TA DA DA THUNDER !!

victorikalena leader ay-aye 🫡

liked by ynwolford

chandidayle serving serious looks ma’am

ynwolford only for you 🫶🏻

user3 drop. the. freaking. skin. and. body. routine !!!

user4 oh to be her 😮‍💨😮‍💨

kelsey_w the look is perfect !!

liked by ynwolford

user5 I AM SEEING HER IN THE VEGAS MATCH

user6 EXCUSE ME !? - can you take me 🥺

user7 bleeding blue and white 💙🤍

user8 why is lando norris in her likes ?

user9 her boyfriend 💔 user10 WHAT-!? user10 POOKIE IS TAKEN 😭🥹 user11 who is he 😤 user12 a driver 👀 user13 * formula one driver

landonorris BEST SISTER EVER ❤️

ynwolford BEST BROTHER EVER ❤️ landonorris bro 😑 ynwolrford yo u started it landonorris you looked pretty babes 🧡❤️💙🤍 ynwolford ☺️

liked by landornorris, mclaren, chandidayle and 137,283 others

ynwolford blue and orange ? 💙🧡 @ mclaren

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mclaren the color combination for the next livery ?

ynwolford cowboy style 🤠🤍💙

landonorris maybe you could cheer for me in those shorts ? 👀

ynwolford stop it you thirsty shorty landornorris you did not - ynwolford my kicks are taller than you landonorris yet still you do the splits for me -

user1 you two, there are kids 😭

user2 where the hell did lando pop out from ?

user3 when did the couple comments become so active 😭

chandidayle Y/N, please behave, there are kids

user4 THANK YOU CHANDI

georgerussell Y/N, could you please get us passes for the match ?

ynwolford dw! Tickets for you, Oscar, Alex, Max and Charles are in my bag ✊🏻

landonorris last time I checked, I was the one who asked you out

ynwolford last time I checked, you always have no pass entry AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND is a DCC 💪🏻 landonorris oh.

user5 I missed the silent relationship comments

user6 they are entertaining tho-

liked by chandidayle, landonorris, kelsey_w and 162,319 others

ynwolford and after 4 years, the Pom-Poms take a rest 🤍💙🤍💙

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user1 WE WILL MISS YOU 😭

user2 genuinely one of the best dcc!!

kelsey_w can’t believe we were together through it all 💙

liked by ynwolford

dcccheerleaders once a DCC, always a DCC 💙🤠🤍

liked by ynwolford

landonorris I am so proud of you love 🫶🏻

ynwolford thank you 😭

user3 for once his comment was normal -

user4 no horny comments today

landonorris but I am sad I won’t see you in those shorts

user5 there we go ✊🏻

user6 the way y/n just ignored -

user7 lando and her are probably doing dirty

user8 STOP TALKING ABOUT THEIR NIGHT LIFE

user9 yes! This is a child account 😙

carlossainz55 A great end to your career 💪🏻

ynwolford unemployed besties 🫶🏻

user10 she did not -

carlossainz55 that hurt 😞

ynwolford reality hurts my dear Carlos landonorris Stop Calling Him “Dear” ynwolford Dear Carlos 🫶🏻 georgerussell hi 👋 ynwolford dear George 🫶🏻 alexalbon hi 👋 ynwolford dear Alex 🫶🏻 landonorris STOP 💔

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 128,271 others

ynwolford and after 2 years, orange is the best 🧡

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landnorris aw 🥺

landonorris cute 😤

landonorris pretty 😮‍💨

landonorris hot 🥵

landonorris mommy 😗

gerogerussell LANDO SHAVED HIS MOUSTACHE!?

ynwolford I asked him too 😌

alexalbon “ THIS MOUSTACHE IS MY BADGE OF HONOUR”

landonorris whatever the queen says 🤷🏻‍♂️

danielriccardio he doesn’t even grow pubes

ynwolford sadly, he does now 😔 landonorris HEY! cmon babe, you know you love it 👀 ynwolford the tree lando, not the jungle 🫷🏻

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[swordgrace]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

༺ aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

synopsis: in aemond targaryen’s eyes, you have far exceeded anything that he could’ve imagined. during a moment of solace, you indulge in the prince’s growing affections.

———————————————————————————

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 7.1K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, biting, scratching, switch!aemond, fingering (f!receiving), groping, lots of kissing, hair pulling, vulnerable aemond, melancholy aftercare, slight power imbalance, possessive aemond, talk of insecurities, begging, etc.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: finally ,,, an aemond fic! I am currently looking for requests for this account, and hopefully this is a good showcase in terms of getting people interested! This was so fun to write and helped me get into the Aemond headspace, I so look forward to sharing more of my work with all of you!

𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 the skies over King’s Landing, bringing with it a sense of wariness and discomfort. Rumors and whispers grew of an approaching war between Rhaenyra Targaryen and King Aegon Targaryen — a war between kin that would surely plunge the realm into a great darkness.

Bloodshed and the mere thought of violence caused you to shiver, goosebumps prickling along the length of your spine. The evening was a touch colder, the air bitter and misty with the first inklings of a nighttime deluge. Raindrops smashed into the courtyard, against the castle walls in a steady sheet.

Sworn to serve Lady Alicent Hightower, the dowager Queen, she had dismissed you quite suddenly, citing that she preferred to be left alone this evening. You found it intriguing that Ser Criston Cole so vigilantly guarded the former Queen’s chambers with wandering eyes, but it was none of your business.

The halls of the Red Keep were warm with the glow of torchlight amongst the illumination of the moon, clouds bringing down rain and the low rumble of thunder. You were prepared to make the venture down to the Servant’s Quarters, until you were stopped by a guard somewhere down the corridor.

“My Lady,” One of the Kingsguard, Ser Cargyll, addressed you nobly, even if you were just a handmaiden. “The Prince Aemond is searching for you. He is requesting your presence.”

Prince Aemond — a name not unfamiliar to you.

You felt the subtle hitch within the depths of your throat at the mention of Aemond Targaryen. The Prince was rather acquainted with you, in ways that many would consider uncouth and sinful, but it was a budding relationship. If anything, you found him to be a being of mystique and repression, in your experience.

Under the guise of mere duty, you nodded, curtsying before Ser Cargyll. “Thank you, Ser. I will make my way to his chambers.” You kept your voice hushed, ensuring an air of respect for those who slumbered within the Keep’s walls.

Carrying bundles of fresh linens within your arms, you made your way to the Prince’s quarters, a path that you were somewhat familiar with. Your encounters with Aemond weren’t often, but whenever they did occur, it filled you with a certain thrill and exhilaration. You never imagined yourself to be desirable, the object of a Prince’s infatuations, yet here you were.

A sharp clap of thunder caused you to gasp, nearly losing your footing as you traversed through the darkened corridors, passing by the occasional fellow servant or patrolling knight. Something about this night felt unusual — as if there was an ominous presence lingering around the corner.

Thunderstorms had a horrible habit of making you incredibly paranoid — tonight was no different, it seemed. With a deliberate pace, you ascended the grand flight of steps toward Aemond’s chambers, noticing the lack of protection outside. The Prince wasn’t fond of being hovered over, a notion that you could understand.

The set of ornate, mahogany doors were equipped with iron knobs fashioned into the heads of dragons — quite fitting, considering his heritage. You knocked thrice, stepping back as you waited for the Prince himself, or his summons.

With bated breath, you wrung your digits into the silk and linens clutched within your arms, awaiting the Prince to allow you inside. The suspense was nearly unbearable — sometimes he called you inside, and other times, he greeted you himself with a sly curl of his mouth and that glittering, violet eye of his.

To your delight, the door creaked open, groaning in protest as Aemond stood within the gap, regal and svelte in his leather tunic and fine regalia. His hand perched along the edge of the door, lips tilting into that familiar countenance of his — cunning yet tinged with faint hints of amusement.

“My Lady,” Aemond’s voice was a lull, like the purr of a great cat as he beckoned you inside. He cared little for prying eyes, allowing you to step into the warmth of his open chambers before he latched the door behind him. “You came rather swiftly.” He stated — a mere observation, but it was most accurate.

“Is this not an urgent matter?” To keep appearances, you sometimes asked redundant questions — but Aemond enjoyed them nonetheless. He let out a brief hum, violet hue raking over you as it had several times before. There was something reverent there, a silent appreciation that happened to scream if someone looked close enough.

With a brief hum of amusement, Aemond ogled you, head canting slightly to one side. Blackfyre sat soundly atop his hip, bound in the finest sheath and belt that hung atop his narrow waist. “I suppose not,” He reached out, gently swiping his fingers across your jaw. “I merely wanted to see you.”

Warmth fluttered within your breast, spreading like ivy across the rest of your body. The bulk of the heat settled within your features as you struggled to maintain your composure. “And I you, my Prince.” It was enough to make Aemond’s stare sparkle. “Any word on what will come of the growing conflict?”

Aemond stepped toward the large table, scattered in maps and scrolls, the largest of it being a cartographic description of Westeros. Coins were scattered atop it, meant to resemble garrisons of their forces. “Not yet.” He replied, circling the table before he looked at you. “It is hard to plan for a war that you’ve no counsel in.”

From what Aemond had told you during previous trysts, he was not on the small council — and his brother, the King, seemed more content on drinking and letting others run his kingdom for him. A piece of Aemond spited Aegon for this, for his lack of propriety and sense of duty.

The Prince’s woes weren’t unfamiliar to you. In fact, he had placed his head within your lap and recounted the multitude of misfortunes that had befallen him on many occasions before he had any desire to touch you. Perhaps it was this gesture that had given your budding relationship such a firm foundation.

War was on the horizon, and Aegon hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do — which left Aemond to stew and plot away, to strategize where there wasn’t any inkling of it. It would always fall upon him, the more responsible sibling.

You trailed after him, curious to see such a large map of the continent. If anything, you were more perplexed by the different kingdoms and sigils on coins than the war. “You mean to strategize without the King?” You inquired, noticing the scoff that emerged from Aemond.

“It is nothing new. I only wish to serve the King and my house.” He replied, expression becoming pensive before he sank down into the cushioned armchair, the one placed before his sea of maps and books. Candles danced atop the table, listless and bright.

Aemond was a learned individual, with a thirst for books and tomes, alongside the blade. You admired his desire for more, his desire for knowledge. There was a stark duality to Aemond that you had caught glimpses of during the course of your endeavors — from sharp and cold, like steel, to a hint of warmth.

The Prince’s chambers were spacious, surrounded by an ocean of quiet, with a high terrace and an open wall. You watched as the rain fell, providing a gentle ambiance to your surroundings. A flash of lightning split the sky, and the thunderous gloom of the night raged on.

With a soft exhale, you approached the terrace, lined in a thick bannister and a row of columns. If you extended your hand out far enough, you could catch the rain, feeling the chill of the droplets glide across your palm. It was soothing, enough to ease the heat that had made permanent residence within your skin.

In silent rapture, Aemond watched you carefully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The glow of moonlight framed your features in silver, accompanied by the twinge of orange — it made you look like a goddess, a beauty incarnate standing before him. His fingers tensed into the arm of his chair, desire beginning to fester inside of him.

Initially, he thought little of you — the lowborn girl that dutifully served his mother, yet the night you’d found him strewn about in his quarters, wounded and wistful, he’d changed his mind. Aemond fell swiftly, and he fell hard — many nights were spent with you in his bed, his head within your lap. It inevitably transformed into desire and the first blossoming of affection.

“Thunderstorms used to terrify me as a child,” You broke the silence, recoiling until your palm was pressed close to your chest. “Now, they seem to make everything ominous, as if there is a lingering dread.” You let out a chuckle, seemingly embarrassed. “It isn’t much different than being afraid.”

Aemond tucked a hand beneath his chin, leaning some of his weight against it as he listened to you. “What do you fear, my Lady?” He questioned, as if attempting to pick you apart, crawl beneath your flesh. You enticed him, evoked a sense of intrigue that he seldom felt in the presence of noble women.

A rather heavy question, but you decided to answer honestly, depositing the stack of linens onto the lounge in front of you. “Being locked away in a cage, perhaps the darkness.” You trailed off. “War.” You grimaced, gaze flickering toward the map on his table yet again.

You always feared war more than anything — it always brought worse things with it. Bloodshed, famine, death, the feeling of no sanctuary or peace.

With a soft huff, Aemond’s violet eye flickered away from you and to his map, surveying his growing plan for any imperfections. He remained quiet for a moment, and decided that he had little desire to talk to you on the topic of war — not when there were plenty of other things he could do.

“War is inevitable, like so many other things in life,” Aemond’s voice carried an indiscernible edge to it. After a brief pause, he continued. “I would keep you safe.” Sometimes, you had difficulty detecting sincerity with the Prince, but you could see it now, even if it was subtle.

If it was meant to be a flattering or sentimental statement, it happened to work, prompting you to dip your head. Sheepishness settled into your features, causing you to tether your hands together. “You honor me, my Prince. I did not know that the life of a handmaiden meant something to you.”

At last, his head angled toward you, lilac hue dancing with light as he leaned back within his chair, the wood groaning in protest. “Come here.” He waved you forward with a flick of his fingers, desiring to feel your warmth, be close to you. Aemond’s lust for you was subtle, but when it sparked to life, it burned like a dragon’s fire.

Your heartbeat fluttered like the wings of a bird, stirring beneath your breast as you obeyed the Prince’s command. Stepping closer, you felt Aemond’s hand trace the swell of your hip, coaxing you into his lap. Without a word, he rested his cheek against your sternum, feeling your fingers rake through his silken tresses.

“Your life is worth a great deal.” Aemond stated, breath fanning out across your collarbone. The Prince savored the sensation of your soft flesh beneath him, heart loud enough to ring within his ears as he pressed close to your chest. Wordlessly, he planted a kiss against the column of your throat.

A shiver rolled down your spine, a sensation that left you aching for more. You never imagined yourself becoming the object of the Prince’s affections, enough for him to state that your life had meaning beyond the station of a servant. “Then it is a mutual feeling.” You uttered, nails lightly scraping against the nape of his neck.

Aemond had often been deprived of affection — even in his dealings with whores, it was originally Aegon’s design, his will enforced. There was no shared connection with a woman seeking coin and a boy, barely thirteen. He preferred you above all else, warm and tender within his grasp, with no desire to use him to further your station.

He used to believe that the only solace he could find was in himself — until he began seeking you out.

What originally began as an arrangement of convenience, purely lust and instinct, had now spiraled into something more. He shared his past with you, treated you to the inner machinations of his splintered family, and in rare instances, became quite vulnerable. Sentiments be damned, Aemond was beginning to feel affectionate towards you.

The growing connection he shared with you, albeit unorthodox and unexpected, outweighed any previous experience he had. You were his — a precious creature that he intended on savoring forever, if he could. Not many would approve of his hunger for a lowborn girl, but Aemond cared little for it.

Above all, known or unknown, he wanted your love.

Aemond’s lilac eye drifted to your visage, drinking you in as he had many times before. The way you cradled his skull within your hand, your other palm planted firmly against his chest — it was intoxicating. He sank closer, finding comfort in your warmth.

He listened to your heart — the way it excitedly galloped for him, pounded within his ear like the deep lull of a drum. The Prince kissed your collarbone, shifting some of your robes away to reveal the soft expanse of your skin. Perhaps, he hadn’t made it known, but you belonged to him — it would stay that way.

A slight chill caused you to press closer, seeking the warmth of the Dragon Prince. Rain continued to pour outside, with thunder rattling the black, cloudy skies, as powerful as a dragon’s cry. Your hand found his shoulder, digits gently massaging into the broad, sinewy muscle of his clothed shoulder.

The sharp ridge of his nose brushed along your neck, lips following suit as he planted several deliberate kisses against your jugular; underneath your jaw. “Cold?” Aemond inquired, able to feel the icy bite of your flesh as it brushed against his. He felt you shudder — but he wondered if that was from something else.

“Slightly, my Prince.” You confessed, though your body’s physical responses were from his lips, in-tandem with the misty chill from the thunderstorm. The flicker of candlelight danced across his features — narrow and defined, beautiful beyond comparison.

“Hm,” Aemond hummed, dragging his lips around the curve of your jawline, pressing another kiss beneath your ear. His scent filled your nose — spiced herbs, smoke and leather, intermingled with that of a dragon. “Shall I remedy this misfortune?” He uttered, his voice crackling with desire.

He nearly smirked at the sound of your breath hitching within your throat — a delicious response to his shameless flirtation. Aemond’s hand crawled along the length of your leg, grabbing at the end of your robes before slipping underneath. His narrow digits danced along your calf, before finding the pliant meat of your thigh.

“Aemond,” You whispered, shifting within his lap as the Prince continued to kiss your neck. The garment you wore was shoddy and somewhat ill-fitting, and you longed to have it removed. You pressed a kiss against his brow, the one that had the beginnings of a scar. “Please.”

The sensation of your lips against his scar nearly drove him into a frenzy — it did the last time you coupled. Aemond let out a brief huff, detaching his mouth from your throat as he hungrily sought your lips. The kiss was overflowing with desire, his hand slithering against your inner thigh.

His slender digits found the apex between your thighs, swiping over the slick heat of your cunt. It was feather-light and tantalizing, meant to make you squirm, a promise of more to come throughout your night together. You whimpered, feeling his thumb ghost around your clit, splitting past your folds.

You reciprocated the kiss with a flurry of passion, tilting your hips forward toward Aemond’s hand. The playful curve of his mouth was tangible as you kissed him again, reaching to cup his face. The pad of your thumb traced along his cheekbone, feeling his teeth graze along your lower lip.

Aemond shivered beneath your palm, finding the sensation of it to be foreign, yet comforting all the same. He hadn’t removed his eyepatch before, during your previous trysts — the thought of you seeing it somewhat unnerved him. It was often used for intimidation, to terrify others into subservience, but it wasn’t like that with you.

As you pulled your head back just slightly, you pressed a tender kiss against Aemond’s jaw, and then against his cheek — another secured itself atop his eyepatch. You felt the Prince’s breath hitch, a subtle noise that left you wanting more.

His hand stilled between your legs, the other holding just underneath your breast. “It would be unwise to remove it.” Aemond uttered, voice as smooth as silk, and just as tantalizing. There was something forlorn about him, as if he were afraid of you glimpsing upon his face.

“I would never insist upon it, Aemond. Just know that I would never pass judgment,” You replied, tucking several strands of pale, silky hair aside. “You are still just as handsome, just as perfect.” Your soft-spoken reassurance made him flustered, yet he was unwilling to reveal that side of himself.

Admittedly, he considered taking it off then, but he decided against it, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Your hand drifted to the front of his tunic, lined in an impressive array of metallic buttons, bearing the Targaryen sigil. Aemond found your sentiments to be sweet — just like the rest of you.

Wordlessly, the one-eyed Prince coaxed you to your feet, bringing you toward the roaring hearth, beside the light of a crackling fire. The ground beneath you was covered in the layered pelts of various game, from stags to the thick hide of a bear, cushioned enough to provide a safe landing for the both of you.

Aemond towered over you, svelte and broad-shouldered, hand coming to cup your chin as he kissed you. It was slow and unusually sweet, but much to your disappointment, it was short-lived. His hands moved to the front of your robes, tugging at the rugged laces to loosen the bodice.

He watched you hawkishly, enraptured as the both of you maneuvered the shoddy fabric aside. You pulled it over your head, tossing the garment somewhere behind you. It landed on the stone floor with an unceremonious thud, leaving you bare before the Prince.

It was an exchange, one that Aemond silently complied with as he peeled aside his own tunic, lips twitching into a smirk as you pushed away the leather and fine linen of his undershirt. He was all sinewy muscle and narrow limbs, with a pale musculature that seemed to glow whenever the light touched it.

The both of you gazed at one another, your breathing significantly more labored than his own. Your excitement was palpable, the anticipation stirring within your stomach as arousal pooled between your legs. Aemond hungrily consumed your mouth in a blistering kiss, hands grabbing at your hips and chest.

You reached for his shoulders, arms tossing themselves around the back of his neck, digits raking through his hair. Aemond’s tongue greedily slipped past your parted lips, allowing you to taste him. A low hum of approval rumbled within his throat as you submitted to him, chest blossoming with warmth.

It was all tongue and teeth and want — a dance that finally gave way to carnal desire and primitive instincts. You felt Aemond’s hand grope at your haunch, feeling your pliant flesh as he nipped at your lower lip. The flame of desire glistened within his lilac hue.

“Lie down,” Aemond uttered, his voice becoming a touch gravelly, saturated with lust. He watched as you obeyed, sinking down onto the furs with a flustered expression. He stood over you, reveling in the sight of your body, kissed by fire, legs pulled up at the knee. “You are perfect.”

Perfect — you shuddered, stomach churning with liquid heat as you propped yourself back upon your elbows, palms idly running across the soft furs. Aemond sank down, pressing a hot, needy kiss to your lips before he knelt between your thighs, mouth hungrily returning to your throat.

“Aemond,” You moaned, the noise soft and simpering as he assaulted your neck in passionate kisses. Teeth and tongue worked together, leaving behind a handful of marks, some glaringly obvious. He continued his descent, kissing your collarbone, and then your breast. “Please keep going.” A breathy whine left you, then.

His lips twitched into a smirk as he planted a series of hot kisses around your breast, the other palm preoccupied with groping and kneading into the soft flesh there. Aemond felt your body arch into him, knees squeezing at his narrow hips.

With a stroke of his tongue, the Prince began to suck at the peak of your breast, nose brushing along your sternum. The heat from the flame crawled across your body, leaving you feverishly hot. Aemond’s actions did little to soothe it, igniting the fire within your belly.

Your hands flew toward his crown of pale tresses, digits digging in toward the nape of his neck. The furs brushed against your back as you reclined, stealing glimpses at Aemond, who methodically and reverently worked his way along your body.

“Ao sytilībagon naejot nyke,” Aemond purred, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh below your breast, as if to ensure his point was made. That singular lilac hue caught your heady gaze, prompting him to continue his descent. He abandoned your breast with a lasting kiss, mouth traveling along your stomach and hips. “Ñuhon.”

Listening to Aemond’s enchanting High Valyrian made you shudder, allowing it to encompass you. His voice was nothing more than a lascivious purr, meant to entice and tempt you — you were beyond elated to oblige. You watched with doe-like eyes as Aemond kissed your waist, and then your thighs.

His incendiary stare never faltered, and as he pushed his shoulders between your legs, he held it throughout. Aemond listened to the delicious hitch within your throat, the way you preemptively curled your nails into his shoulders — it was intoxicating.

In an unexpected maneuver, Aemond gingerly abandoned the fine leather of his eyepatch, revealing the glistening, sapphire eye, marred-over with an age-old scar. You were dazzled, perplexed by his beauty and the vibrant gleam of the jewel that was permanently socketed into his eye.

As a display of reassurance, your fingers crept from his shoulder to his face, gingerly tracing around his countenance, from eyebrow to cheekbone. Aemond’s subtle exhale of delight signaled his approval, and without warning, he raked his tongue across your cunt.

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

Those dextrous, spindly hands of his found the pliant flesh of your thighs, hooking underneath to provide a place of rest for your legs. He squeezed slightly, signaling his presence there as he pressed forward. His mouth greedily lapped at your cunt, gliding from the hood of your clit to your entrance.

“Aemond!” A wanton moan tore past your lips, back beginning to arch into his ministrations. The Prince slowed, sharp nose brushing against your mouth as he dipped forward, tongue briefly pushing inside of you. The subtle sensation made you whine, nails dragging themselves across his shoulder.

You were perfect — flesh velveteen beneath his palms, physique begging for more, your pleasure coming to fruition. You were at his mercy, but fortunately, Aemond was feeling most gracious this evening. The echo of the thunderstorm shook the walls a time or two, but it all became atmospheric, simply background noise.

With one hand fisted within his platinum tresses, the other scratched haplessly at his shoulder, nails leaving behind reddish crescents as he flicked his tongue across your clit. The sensation was fleeting, but he sought to drag it out, lips greedily pursing around the pearl of your cunt.

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

His throat echoed with a low growl, hands grabbing at your thighs. He traced his tongue around your clit, teasing you with feather-light jolts of bliss. You let out a whine, occasionally writhing atop the furs, head lolled back in a display of pure ecstasy.

Aemond’s subtle groan of delight reverberated throughout him whenever you tugged on his tresses, forcing him further into the warm embrace between your thighs. He pressed a string of kisses along your clit, as if he were worshiping you. He enjoyed your greed — if anything, he wanted to indulge you.

The warm lick of the hearth danced across your flesh, seeping into your very bones. Perspiration dotted your brow, jaw tight as Aemond ogled you from between your legs, like a svelte predator, poised for the kill. “You’re perfect, Aemond.” You exhaled, noticing the subtle twinkle in his lilac eye.

That familiar cheshire smirk of his returned; your sweetly-spoken compliments and shower of praise clearly satiated Aemond. He kissed your thigh, breath hot as it fanned across your aching core. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” His voice was cajoling, playful as he nipped at your hip.

You squirmed, becoming desperate for a release, one that your Prince seemed to dangle before your eyes like a carrot on a stick. “Please,” You moaned, digits tightening within his tresses, a subtle signal to continue. “Please, Aemond!” With such an urgent plea from a sweet mouth, Aemond couldn’t resist you.

It seemed that begging would get you places — Aemond thoroughly savored every second of it. Your lust mirrored his own, perhaps subdued, but it was a raging desire nonetheless. He placed another string of kisses against your inner thighs, gazing at you with an incendiary fondness.

Sluggishly, he descended to your cunt once more, dragging the flat of his tongue along your slit in one broad stroke. With a shiver, your hips rolled forward, eased into submission by Aemond’s hands, which happened to lock you into place as he swarmed forward.

He drank you in, tongue greedily flicking between your weeping core and clit, until he began to apply that same pressure as before. His thin lips pursed around the pearl of your cunt, suckling on the clutch of sensitive nerves until it drove you mad, back arching from the furs.

By the Seven, the things Aemond did to you.

There was a fervor in his ministrations, a ravenous hunger that threatened to tear you asunder. His tongue lapped at your core, interchanging with those brief moments of his lips latched around your clit. You whimpered, thighs pressing on either side of his head.

“Aemond,” You sighed with passion, fisting his silky tresses until you tugged him closer, burying his face within the warmth of your cunt. Aemond didn’t seem to mind, treating you with another barrage of suckling and kisses until you were spent. “Fuck.”

Your unholy mouth made Aemond shudder, groping at your thighs as he brought you to climax. Your release was bittersweet upon his tongue, the most sinful taste imaginable — yet he never claimed to be a pious man. He worked tirelessly to clean you up, cock aching within the confines of his leather trousers.

As you rode the pleasurable high of your release, your body unfurled, the tension within your stomach coming to a halt. A molten bliss wept between your legs, soothed by the cool lick of Aemond’s tongue. Your tryst was far from finished — you had more left to give.

In a coiled, poised fashion, Aemond moved from between your legs, prepared to untie the strings of his trousers and sink himself into you, but you stopped him, placing your palms against the plane of his chest. His musculature was lean and narrow, almost spider-like.

Aemond did not make a sound, watching as you rocked up onto your knees, thighs quivering as you eased him down onto his back — the same position you had been trapped in moments prior. He was enraptured, lilac eye glued to you as if you were heaven sent, a goddess coming to claim him for yourself.

You tossed one leg over him, thighs straddling those spindly hips of his, palms dragging across his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen — wherever you could reach. Aemond shivered beneath the intensity of your embrace, lips quirked into the ghost of a smirk, a look of perplexity to mask his desire to submit to you.

“Tell me you want this,” You whispered, nails lightly raking themselves toward his breeches, not daring to go any further until Aemond offered you his consent on the matter. He was often on top of you, domineering and incredibly energetic, but this was different — for him, and for you. “Say the word and you can have me elsewhere.”

The subtle bob of his throat wasn’t easy to spot, masked by shadow, one half of his countenance basked in the glow of the firelight. His sparkling sapphire gazed at you for an eternity, the other drifting across your supple physique, seated atop him as if you’d mounted a stallion.

His hands came to rest atop your thighs, splayed out, possessively groping your pliant flesh. “I want you,” Aemond uttered, his voice a delicious purr, an octave full of an unrestrained lust. “In whatever way that is.” He quite enjoyed this position — he liked seeing you in all of your beauty, bared before him.

With a gentle smile, your digits began to unravel the ties of his trousers, gracing across his hip bones. It was enough to make him shudder, even if the action was barely noticeable. Together, you and Aemond removed the rest of his clothing — and there he was.

He was a beautiful creature, all lanky musculature and pale flesh, stringy and angular. Everything about him was sharp, like the edge of a blade. Aemond was charming, enchanting to you whether he realized it or not. It was enough to prompt you to lean forward, pressing a string of kisses along his collarbone.

“My Prince,” You murmured into his skin, your nose nuzzling underneath the sharp slope of his jaw. You kissed him there, listening to the hitch in his throat. Aemond hummed, lips curling into something of a perplexed line as his hands wandered about your frame, ensuring to touch and caress every curve, every part of you. “My Prince.”

Aemond turned his head, the movement precise and not at all coincidental. His lips captured yours in a feverish kiss, his cock eagerly pressing against your slick cunt. You gasped, feeling the length of it tempt you as he had several times before, but this time, he grabbed your chin, ogling you with his lilac hue.

He wanted to watch your face as you sank yourself onto him, briefly grabbing his cock in order to guide it to your aching slit. The pleasure that blossomed across your countenance was a sight to behold, and you were met with the familiar tilt of his mouth, a fire smoldering within his gaze as he bucked upwards.

His cock speared you with a suddenness, causing you to moan as you adjusted yourself, rocking up onto your knees. Aemond’s palms held your thighs, and he was more than willing to do some of the work, unwilling to let you tire yourself.

It was mesmerizing to see you on top of him like this, breasts full and lovely, softly jostling with each movement. Your flesh was velveteen, pure perfection cast in the sienna glow of the hearth. The fire was dying, but the lust between you and Aemond was far from extinguished.

Your palms fell flat atop his abdomen, finding your purchase there as you began to ride him. It was sluggish and erratic, at first — you let out a soft moan whenever Aemond moved too, using his strength to meet you halfway. His hips lurched forward, cock thrusting into your cunt several times over.

A string of wanton whines and moans escaped you in droves, feeling his grasp on your thighs tighten. He was quite enamored with you, especially like this — there was no sweeter feeling. He continued to buck up into you whenever he could, sheathing himself inside of you, possessing you from below.

Aemond’s visage contorted into one of shared satisfaction, shifting from indiscernible to pleasurable. He sat up just enough to be within reach of you, hips pushing up to meet the downward fall of your body, his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Aemond,” You exhaled, tossing your arms around his shoulders, feeling one of his hands wander from your thigh to your waist, colliding into you with a passionate fervor. The pace you set was sporadic and needy, wanton with desire as you rode him, your movements attempting to temper themselves. “Kiss me.”

That breathy plea of yours was enough to make Aemond submit, lips claiming yours again in an achingly slow, heated kiss. The feeling of your tight cunt around him, slick and warm, made him groan. He was desperate to keep a rhythmic pace, if that were even possible.

Flesh collided against flesh, and you felt Aemond’s mouth pry itself away from yours, creeping toward the column of your throat. He kissed your jugular, face buried within the hollow between your neck and shoulder. You continued your conquest, rocking up and down along his length, nails digging into his shoulder.

Aemond coaxed you backward, wanting you on your back for the final moments of your coupling. You were swift, slumped back down within the furs as the Prince seized your haunch, spreading your legs by bullying himself between them as he had before.

His thrusts became a touch rougher, chasing after a release as he began to rut into you, cock reaching the threshold as he filled your cunt. Strands of pale hair fell around his face, brow glistening with a thin layer of perspiration.

You gasped, back arching as you hitched one leg around his hips, grabbing at his biceps. Aemond’s pace intensified, turning into something carnal and primal, need outweighing sensibility. Lewd noises filled his chamber — the clash of flesh, the sound of your entangled panting and groans of ecstasy.

Wordlessly, he sought your mouth, kissing you with a blistering force that made your head spin with delirium. You reciprocated with passion, feeling his tongue split past your lips, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. Your teeth snagged across his lower lip, enough to make Aemond’s throat echo with a faint growl.

Between the tangle of teeth and tongue, bodies becoming one, you rolled your hips in-tandem with Aemond’s sharp, brutal thrusts. “Don’t stop.” You whispered, wanting him to chase after his release, feeling the pleasurable pulsations between your thighs.

Aemond let out a soft grunt, cock burying itself within you over and over again, precum slathering your insides. The sensation of your cunt around him was perfection — he wanted more of you, all of you. You felt his hand snake around your throat, cupping beneath your jaw as he squeezed just enough to make you whine.

He was relentless, pounding into you with an obvious desperation that only furthered your desire for him. You gripped his shoulders, bringing yourself as close as you could, any sliver of distance beginning to dissipate, eclipsed by conjoined bodies and shared bliss.

At last, his countenance contorted into one of complete and utter pleasure, pale brows furrowed in concentration, violet-colored eye closing for just a moment. His cock throbbed inside of you, brazenly spilling himself wherever he saw fit. He pulled out halfway through, painting your thighs in a sticky sheen of glistening seed.

With a huff of finality, Aemond kissed your jaw, removing himself from you long enough to retrieve one of the many blankets draped across the foot of his bed. You watched him in rapturous silence, the way his physique moved, sinewy muscle highlighted by the flicker of a fading fire.

You cleaned yourself up, feeling Aemond return as he draped the blanket within your lap. As the hearth began to die, the chill of his chambers became evident, thunder rattling overhead, accompanied by the onslaught of a cold deluge. He rekindled the flame, wordlessly slinking down to curl next to you.

Strewn beside the fire, Aemond’s head came to rest atop your sternum, arm draped across your midsection. You held him, kept him close — it provided a sense of vulnerability that made you truly believe that he was yours. You stroked his hair, surprised that he hadn’t asked for you to leave.

“Whenever you wish for me to depart, say the word, my Prince.” You uttered, feeling him tighten his hold upon you. Aemond gazed listlessly into the flames, lilac hue half-lidded as you continued to caress the crown of his head. He didn’t want to go anywhere.

“No,” Aemond’s command was sharp and punctuated, despite the softness of his tone, something that demanded you yield to him. “I want you here.” He uttered, shivering when your other hand traced along what expanse of his spine you could reach.

Prepared to make your vigil beside Aemond, you settled, leaning into him just as he careened into you. The silence was eerily comforting, lulled by the atmospheric backdrop of the thunderstorm. You always enjoyed the aftermath — you enjoyed holding Aemond, most of all. It made you feel cherished in a different way, one that others might not have understood.

You shifted forward, burying your lips atop the pale crown of Aemond’s skull, letting it linger beyond the boundaries of chastity. He exhaled, body fully curled against yours, half of him reclining against you, the other half left to soak in the crackling warmth of the fire.

As your digits tenderly traced the muscle of his forearm, Aemond finally broke the silence once more, happy to let you stroke his hair. “I have always been different, teased and ridiculed,” He lamented, a twinge of melancholy within his voice. “Underestimated, most of all.”

It was a rare glimpse into the window of Aemond’s being — the man that craved love and affection, longed to be thought of as important. After Storm’s End, his mother had cast her frustrations and scorn down upon him, condescending and detached.

A gentle exhale escaped him as you stroked along the angular slope of his jaw, turning his head away from the fire and toward you. You looked down upon him, this man capable of ruthlessness and cunning, and saw the threads of a shattered youth — of someone who longed to feel a tender touch.

“Those who’ve attempted to slight me have always fallen so short of the mark,” Aemond uttered, a vague reference to the Velaryon boy that he had wrongfully slaughtered. He had some regrets about that one, but he hoped that it would cement his strength — he was the rider of Vhagar, and even then, it never felt like enough. “Hm.”

He seemed incredibly comfortable like this, pressed into your warmth, his cheek nestling against your collarbone. You continued to trace along the smooth plane of his musculature, allowing your digits to finally brush underneath his scarred, sapphire eye.

“You feel cold,” You hummed, noticing the way in which he absentmindedly leaned into your palm, allowing you to fully cup his face. “You are strong, Aemond — resilient and cunning. It is not my place to speak of your family, but I’ve come to know you, and I know that you are stronger than all of them.”

Bristling underneath the sweetly-spoken purr of your praises, Aemond kept his arm draped around you, the other coming to rest underneath your breast. The pad of his thumb graced your silky flesh, and he wanted to stay like this forever, if he could.

Aemond regarded you with a forlorn intensity, one that still danced with a subtle frustration, intermingled with his growing sense of possessiveness towards you. He kissed your palm, and then placed a kiss against your chest, ear pressed to the beating swell of your heart.

“I do not feel different with you,” Aemond uttered, able to listen to the little flutter within your chest, the steady gallop of your heart. “I do not want that to change.” His tone became solemn, and you simply coaxed him closer, allowing him to use the crook of your elbow as a place to rest, fingers raking through his hair.

“It won’t change, my Prince.” Your reassurance was gentle, as saccharine as the finest honey. Aemond’s hum was one of contentment as he crawled forward, head resting against your shoulder instead, allowing him to better hold onto you just as you held him.

Silence passed between you, accompanied by the brief crackle of dried tinder atop the logs, the light of burning embers dancing before you both. He kissed your jaw again, the slope of his nose brushing around your neck as he peered towards the flames.

Again, you felt your breath hitch when Aemond held tightly to you, lifting his head just enough to gaze down upon you. Your countenance was captivating — beautiful beyond compare, awestruck of his appearance. His lilac hue flickered across your face, drinking in the doe-like look you had before he hummed.

The ghost of an indiscernible expression fluttered across his features — incredibly subtle, yet present nonetheless. “I certainly hope not.” He murmured, lips molding themselves to yours, and then to the corner of your mouth before he resumed his former position.

You kissed the top of his head once more, cradling him as you would something fragile. You knew that Aemond’s insecurities resurfaced often, but now, they seemed far more prevalent. Regardless, your affection for him wouldn’t waver — you worried that he wouldn’t feel the same for you, however.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond already possessed you, body and soul — and that was more dangerous than any blade or any dragon.

copyright @ swordgrace / please do not post or translate my works onto other platforms.

[cuppajj]

Some characters as they appear within Beast Ancients AU (Info below)

Strawberry Crepe Cookie witnessed the rise of the Beast of Penance, and saw something so horrible that they could do nothing but run for their life. In the chaos, they left something very important to them behind; but the Saint is a kind one. He will return what was lost, and deliver his witness to the peace that was torn from them so long ago.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie sits chained underneath the Hollyberry Palace, studied day in and day out by the royal scientists on the Beast of Pride’s orders. They are hardly in cookie form anymore, only able to shapeshift if the monarch allows. Sometimes they feel like freedom is obtainable, but they often learn it’s only because Dragonberry likes to play games.

Princess Cookie can’t sit idly by as her kingdom falls into darkness. Her grandmother has put her entire family in her pocket, keeping them under strict control, but the princess hates control! She can't believe how complacent everyone is! Against all odds, on one fateful night, she donned an unrecognizable disguise and disappeared in search of help. She knows she's leaving everything and everyone behind, but she'll do anything to get her kingdom back. It's hers as much as it is her family's!

Silverbell Cookie has faithfully served his queen even before she rose to the throne, and watched as she strengthened their kingdom into a formidable force in Beast-Yeast. But he can't help but wonder why she seems so distant and unlike herself... in fact, something about the kingdom he swore to protect feels different. They swear to protect the tree, but now they eye the lands around them, swear to destroy an evil enchantress who prevents their queen from regaining her full self... as Silverbell Cookie continues to dutifully stand at her side, he asks himself, what has the Beast of Sovereignty done to his kingdom?

Caramel Arrow Cookie and Crunchy Chip Cookie swore an oath to stand by their king's side to the bitter end. They fought with him as he protected his kingdom from internal collapse. They watched with elation as he brought the Licorice Sea to kneel before them and never threaten the kingdom again. However, when the Beast of Solitude replaced their steadfast leader, their vows were put to the test as the kingdom was soon claimed by permafrost. While Crunchy Chip cookie had seen the writing on the wall, Caramel Arrow Cookie remained steadfast even as everyone froze around her. In her desperation to get through to the king, Caramel Arrow Cookie made the mistake of stepping out of line, her arm consumed by ice the moment she reached out to him. Crunchy Chip Cookie was quick to pull her away before she could be frozen entirely, and the two fled into the mountains. Crunchy Chip Cookie is looking for someone to help bring his confidant back to good health before the frost completely engulfs her.

[faebled-stories]

Rumor Has it

Kinkvember Day 12: Size Queen

ITZY Lee Chaeryeong x Male reader

7k words

“I can’t believe I’m with ITZY’s Chaeryeong,” the man murmured, voice heavy with disbelief as his eyes roamed her flushed face. “You’re just so hot,” he added, the words tumbling out in a way that was meant to be flattering but only served to deepen the emptiness settling in her chest. His awe should have kindled something—pride, excitement, even a fleeting sense of satisfaction—but it barely registered.

Chaeryeong lay on the unfamiliar bed, her body half-sunken into the cushions as he moved rhythmically, each thrust marked by an urgency that lacked any real warmth. His hands skimmed over her skin with a mechanical precision, more rote than passionate, as if he were caught up in the idea of her rather than the moment they shared. His breath came in shallow, heated bursts against her collarbone, but rather than igniting any spark within her, it only deepened the creeping impatience that gnawed at her.

Detachment wrapped around her like a cold wave, numbing her senses until it felt as though she were watching herself from above, disconnected and distant. The cracked, faded ceiling above was far more familiar, more interesting than the man whose movements quickened, already nearing the climax of their encounter.

The scene was painfully predictable, an act she could have performed in her sleep. The pattern was always the same: meet a guy, revel in the spark of attraction, then watch that spark die the moment intimacy began. It wasn’t their lack of effort; many were charming, practiced, saying and doing all the right things. But beneath the flattery, the skilled movements, and the whispered praises, there was only the same worn-out script she had seen unfold too many times to count.

He caught her gaze, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. “I knew you’d be this wild,” he said, tracing a line down her side as if her silence was proof of his prowess. Chaeryeong’s lips curved into a slight, practiced smile—just enough to maintain the illusion. She knew what he was looking for: affirmation, a performance. It was easier to provide it than let him glimpse the blankness she felt inside.

“Tell me how good this feels," he whispered, voice thick with self-assured pride as he pushed forward. The words fell over her, hollow and ineffective, their intended power dissolving before it could ignite even a flicker of genuine response. She knew men like him all too well—the ones who craved validation, whose confidence was built on a steady diet of praise. They lived for these moments, hungry for reassurances that fed their ego as much as any touch or fleeting glance.

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, carefully calibrating her voice to mimic desire. Inside, the chasm of disinterest yawned wider, swallowing any pretense of excitement. His movements grew more erratic and rushed, signaling the approach of the end. Each gasp, each strained promise of how he would make her feel, only deepened her impatience. Her eyes wandered to the wall, where the paint peeled in thin, curling strips.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he gasped, voice ragged as he tensed, releasing with a final, shuddering exhalation. The warmth splattered across her stomach, sudden and uncomfortable against her skin. He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, eyes closed with a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. The silence that followed pressed down on her, suffocating and familiar.

Chaeryeong stared at the ceiling, her expression unchanged, irritation simmering beneath her blank exterior. The mess was just another inconvenience, another reminder of how detached she felt from the entire experience. She sat up, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table, each swipe across her skin sharp with annoyance. The sticky remnants clung stubbornly, and she fought the urge to let out a sigh as she wiped it clean.

“That was amazing, you loved it, didn’t you?” he said, the lazy grin on his face matched only by the certainty in his voice. He looked up at her, eyes glinting with a kind of self-congratulation that made her jaw tighten.

“Yeah,” she said absently, the word slipping out devoid of meaning. She crumpled the tissue and tossed it into the trash with more force than necessary, already turning her attention to putting her clothes back on. The quicker she dressed, the sooner she could escape the weight of his gaze and the aftermath of a night that felt like just another checkbox ticked.

“You’re leaving?” His tone shifted, a hint of surprise breaking through his post-coital haze.

“Yeah, something came up,” she said, already buttoning her jeans and reaching for her jacket. She didn’t spare him a glance, the cool air from the hallway whispering in as she opened the door.

“Oh, well… okay. I guess I’ll see you around?” The words trailed after her, carrying the echo of confusion and a touch of disappointment.

“Maybe,” she muttered, stepping into the hallway. The door closed behind her, muffling his presence, and she let out a silent breath. The street outside stretched dark and quiet, the distant hum of traffic soothing in its consistency. With each step away, the encounter faded into the background, another scene in a cycle she was desperate to break.

-----

The next day, Chaeryeong walked into the studio, the weight of last night’s disconnection lingering around her like an unwelcome shadow. The steady thump of music in the background was a familiar comfort, its rhythmic beat grounding her as she stepped into the safe haven of dance practice. Here, she could shed the emptiness, rediscovering herself in the movements and the sweat.

As she moved down the hallway, she nearly bumped into you—a newer dancer known for your laid-back, shy demeanor that had a certain charm. The unexpected encounter made her pause, and she blinked up at you, adjusting the strap of her bag with an almost self-conscious touch.

“Oh, hey,” you said, eyes widening with surprise before a soft, genuine smile spread across your face. Your voice carried a hint of nervousness, but it was endearing, a reflection of your gentle nature.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone casual but warm. Chaeryeong had seen you before, exchanged a few words here and there, but your interactions were always routine—comfortable, familiar, but devoid of any real thrill or spark. Still, there was something grounding about your presence, an easy reliability in an industry full of fleeting faces and shallow exchanges.

“How’s it going?” you asked, shifting the strap of your own bag and glancing at her with a mix of shyness and openness.

“Good,” Chaeryeong answered with a brief look toward her makeup room. “Just getting ready for practice.”

“Same here,” you said with a small, awkward chuckle, nodding toward the practice room behind you. “Well, I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, see you,” she echoed, stepping past you as the moment seamlessly blended into the rest of her day.

Settling into her makeup chair, Chaeryeong projected an air of calm as the room buzzed around her with practiced chaos. Stylists moved efficiently, tugging at her hair and trimming stray ends while she scrolled through her phone, barely registering the cascade of notifications on the screen. Despite the morning’s encounter, her mind drifted back to the comforting rhythm of dance, where she could momentarily leave everything else behind.

A sudden murmur of gossip cut through the ambient chatter, the tone sharp enough to catch her attention.

“Did you hear about the new dancer?” one stylist whispered, drawing out her words as if relishing their weight.

Chaeryeong’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral, eyes glued to her phone as though she hadn’t heard.

“Oh yeah,” another stylist chimed in, her red lipstick as bold as the knowing smile she wore. “They say he’s... well, really well-endowed.” She stretched out the last words, savoring the ripple of reactions they prompted and darting her eyes around for signs of who was listening.

Heat crept up Chaeryeong’s neck, her cheeks warming despite her best attempt at indifference. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the stylists exchanging conspiratorial looks, their excitement palpable. She focused back on her phone, but the whispered words replayed in her mind, stubbornly refusing to fade.

“Where did you hear that?” a third stylist asked, her eyes wide as if this were the juiciest piece of news in weeks.

“Someone in the wardrobe department,” the second stylist replied, leaning in conspiratorially. “They saw him changing during a show. It was... unmistakable.”

Unmistakable. The word lodged itself in Chaeryeong’s mind. She scolded herself for the flicker of interest that sparked within her. It’s just gossip, she reminded herself. But the allure of whispered secrets had a way of sticking, no matter how much she tried to brush them off.

Chaeryeong attempted to shake off the chatter, but it clung to her thoughts, feeding her curiosity. She opened a recent group photo on her phone from a past shoot, eyes scanning your face, searching for... what, exactly? She didn’t know. The absurdity of it made her bite back a sigh.

She locked her screen and set her phone down, chastising herself. This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to push the rumor out of her mind. But it lingered at the edges, a persistent tickle she couldn’t quite dismiss.

A few days later, Chaeryeong found herself tucked into a quiet corner of a café, a rare escape from the whirlwind of studio life. The hum of coffee machines and the clinking of cups provided a soothing backdrop, calming her frayed nerves. She took a slow sip of her latte, savoring the warmth that radiated through her.

Her peace was short-lived. From a nearby table, lively voices cut through the mellow atmosphere. Natty and Julie, two bright junior members of Kiss of Life, were leaning into each other, their laughter infectiously carefree. Their energy filled the small café, vibrant and uncontainable.

Chaeryeong wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but their excitement was impossible to ignore.

“So... have you heard about the hot topic recently?” Natty’s eyes were wide, her voice tinged with thrill.

Julie’s grin widened as she lowered her voice. “Oh my God, yes! Everyone’s talking about it. You mean... the rumor?”

Chaeryeong’s fingers drummed lightly against her mug. She’d heard variations of this story a hundred times before—momentary bursts of intrigue that swirled through the industry, more smoke than fire. Yet, there was something magnetic about the way these whispers spread. No matter how hard she tried to tune out, the animated tones and shared glances drew her in.

“Yeah, you know... the rumor,” Natty said, barely suppressing her giggles.

Julie leaned back, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “Honestly, I kind of want to see if it’s true.”

Natty’s eyes widened, shock mixed with amusement. “Wait, what? You’re actually thinking of... finding out?”

A daring glint crossed Julie’s face. “Why not? Everyone’s acting like he’s some kind of god. He’s always so nice and friendly. It wouldn’t be that hard to get close.”

Natty shook her head, half-amused, half-incredulous. “You’re wild! What if it’s not true? Or worse, what if it is?”

Julie’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s what makes it fun! I’m not just going to ask him, obviously. But if the opportunity comes up... why not?”

Chaeryeong took another sip of her coffee, pretending to focus on the view outside. The boldness of youth was something she recognized from her own early days. They were fearless, driven by curiosity and the thrill of what-ifs. But she knew better now. Rumors had a way of spiraling, turning curiosity into consequences.

Yet, their conversation lingered in her thoughts, winding its way into the quiet spaces of her mind. Could there be any truth to it? It was absurd, but the question gnawed at her. She tried to brush it off as idle curiosity, but the story held on like a stubborn melody.

With a sigh, Chaeryeong set down her mug and stood, casting a glance back at Natty and Julie. They were still deep in conversation, laughter bubbling over as they reveled in their world of daring and speculation. Their faces were bright, full of life untouched by the cynicism that came with years in the industry.

As Chaeryeong stepped into the crisp autumn air, a bemused smile tugged at her lips. Maybe, in their own ways, everyone was searching for a little excitement, a hint of truth buried in the glitz and chaos. In the unpredictable realm of K-pop, who wouldn’t want to peek behind the curtain to find out what was real?

-----

On a quiet afternoon, Chaeryeong sprawled across the cool floor of the practice room, her body still humming from hours of intense rehearsal. The mingling scents of sweat and faint traces of perfume filled the air, and the ache in her muscles was a satisfying reminder of her hard work. For a brief moment, silence settled over the room, seeping into her exhaustion and offering a rare sense of peace.

The stillness was broken by the soft, deliberate clicks of Ryujin’s phone. Every few moments, Ryujin’s lips would curl into a smirk, her eyes flickering with amusement as she scrolled through whatever had caught her attention. Chaeryeong, trying to focus on stretching out her legs, found herself drawn to the subtle shifts in Ryujin’s expression.

“What’s got you giggling?” Chaeryeong asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. She lifted an arm over her head, feeling the pull in her shoulder, though the stretch couldn’t quite outmatch the intrigue sparked by Ryujin’s grin.

“Oh, just some juicy gossip,” Ryujin replied, snapping her phone shut and looking up with a mischievous glint. “You’ve heard the latest about him, haven’t you?”

Chaeryeong raised an eyebrow, her heart giving a small, involuntary skip. “I’ve heard bits and pieces. What’s new?”

Ryujin leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, rumor has it things have taken an… interesting turn.”

Chaeryeong found herself inching closer, her interest piqued. “Interesting how?”

“Remember that new staff member from production? Long hair, brunette, always with the clipboard?” Ryujin’s voice dropped even further as Chaeryeong nodded, recalling the confident, polished woman who’d been around the studio lately. “Apparently, she tried to hook up with him, but it didn’t go as planned.”

Chaeryeong’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Ryujin savored the suspense, a smile playing on her lips. “She called it off halfway through. Said it was ‘too much’ for her.”

Chaeryeong’s mouth fell open in disbelief, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. “You’re serious?”

Ryujin’s nod was triumphant. “Completely. She’s been avoiding him ever since.” The way Ryujin spoke made it clear she found the entire thing endlessly entertaining. “Can you imagine? She didn’t even finish!”

Chaeryeong leaned back, trying to process the bizarre twist. Until now, the rumors had been little more than idle chatter, a way to pass the time between rehearsals. But this? This felt different—specific, almost too wild to be entirely made up.

“That’s beyond crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “So she really just… walked away?”

Ryujin’s smile widened. “Too intense for her, apparently. Makes the rumor even juicier, right?”

Chaeryeong chuckled, fingers brushing her forehead as if to clear the strangeness from her thoughts. She’d always seen you as quiet and reserved, an enigma wrapped in an unassuming presence. You’d danced beside her, shared jokes and casual conversations, but now it felt like a veil of mystery had fallen over you, changing how she saw you.

Ryujin noticed the flicker of interest in Chaeryeong’s eyes and pounced on it. “Not curious at all?”

Chaeryeong scoffed, though a faint warmth crept up her neck. “It’s just gossip. Things like this always get exaggerated.”

Ryujin laughed knowingly. “Maybe. But admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know. And who’s to say there isn’t some truth hidden in there?”

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes, trying to brush off Ryujin’s teasing, but a reluctant smile played on her lips. “Okay, maybe I’m a little curious,” she conceded.

“Exactly,” Ryujin said, leaning back with a victorious nod. “And who knows? You’ve worked with him more than anyone. If anyone can figure out what’s real, it’s you.”

Chaeryeong’s expression turned wary. “Are you suggesting I go looking for answers?”

“Not exactly,” Ryujin replied with a wink. “But it wouldn’t hurt to keep your eyes open. You never know what you might find.”

As Chaeryeong stood up, stretching her arms high above her head, the tension in her muscles eased, but a new kind of tension lingered in her mind. “I’m not getting caught up in this,” she said, trying to sound resolute.

Ryujin’s smirk deepened. “Sure. Just don’t blame me when you can’t stop wondering.”

Chaeryeong’s gaze drifted across the empty room. Though she said nothing, her thoughts inevitably circled back to you—the unexpected center of a rumor that refused to fade. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to you than she had realized.

-----

In the days that followed, her resolve to ignore the gossip unraveled bit by bit. Every break in rehearsal, she’d catch snippets of whispered conversations, soft voices punctuated by the thrill of the latest gossip. The room seemed charged, the air thick with secrets woven together in webs of speculation, and the more she tried to tune it out, the more the curiosity gnawed at her.

It was a curious thing, the way her perception of you began to shift. In her mind, the once-awkward grin and boyish shyness you’d worn so easily took on a new, shadowed dimension. She’d always seen you as the soft-spoken one, the one who was quietly supportive, almost unassuming. But now, even a passing glance was tinged with the echo of those whispered stories, and each encounter left her feeling as if she’d glimpsed only a fraction of who you really were.

The questions pulsed in her thoughts, gaining a stubborn grip, no matter how often she told herself it was only idle gossip. What if the quiet you she’d known was only part of the story? What if there was a depth, a mystery lurking beneath the surface, a piece of you yet to be uncovered?

With every passing day, her curiosity transformed from a soft, passing thought into an itch that lingered, whispering at the back of her mind. And though she told herself to brush it aside, Chaeryeong couldn’t help but wonder. In a world built on appearances and carefully constructed images, maybe there was something real beneath all the stories. And maybe—just maybe—she’d find herself wanting to know who you truly were.

Then, one afternoon, it seemed as though fortune had finally aligned in her favor. Practice had stretched longer than usual, the group winding down and slowly dispersing in pairs or small clusters, chatter buzzing through the air. Chaeryeong, catching her breath near the edge of the practice room, happened to look up just as you turned the corner into the hallway, your figure briefly silhouetted against the light streaming in from the corridor.

Your gaze found hers, and in that brief, quiet exchange, you offered a shy, slightly lopsided smile—a familiar look that made her pulse skip, the awkward charm in it disarming and strangely magnetic. In that moment, something sparked in Chaeryeong’s chest, a flicker of boldness mixed with curiosity. Today, she insisted, I’ll find out more.

Whether it was the way you moved, calm and at ease despite the group’s lively presence, or the weight of the unanswered questions lingering in her mind, she couldn’t ignore the pull anymore. The hallway felt smaller, the walls pressing closer as she crossed the distance between you, her footsteps light but deliberate.

“Hey!” she called out, her tone casual but carrying a note of unmistakable purpose. You paused, a slight furrow of confusion forming on your brow as you turned. “Can you help me with something?” she asked, her smile warm but with a hint of mischief that made your eyes narrow in curiosity.

“Oh, uh… sure. What do you need?” you replied, polite and almost cautious, your tone laced with that familiar modesty she had come to expect from you.

“There’s something broken in my dressing room,” she replied, her tone smooth and casual as she gestured down the hallway. Ignoring the flicker of uncertainty that crossed your face, she took a step forward, inviting you to follow her. You hesitated, but soon enough, you fell into step beside her, the two of you making your way through the quiet corridor toward her dressing room.

Her heart pounded as you neared the door, the quiet intensity of her decision hitting her as she led you inside, closing the door behind. For a moment, you looked around, a faint confusion in your expression as you glanced around the small space.

“So… what exactly is broken?” you asked, your brow lifting as you scanned the room, clearly searching for any sign of damage.

A smile crept onto her face, playful and assured. “There’s nothing broken,” she said softly, watching as the realization dawned in your expression. “I just wanted to get you alone.”

Your eyes widened, surprise and hesitation crossing your face as you struggled to find a response. “Alone? I… I don’t really…”

She reached out, placing a hand on your arm in a gentle but firm gesture, her gaze steady. “You’ve probably heard the rumors about you,” she said, her voice quiet, laced with both curiosity and determination.

Your face flushed, a deep crimson that betrayed your nervousness, and you quickly averted your gaze. “I-I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” you stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, I do,” she replied, her voice lowering to a near-whisper, her breath warm and close. “And I’m curious.”

You blinked, taken aback, struggling to process her words. “Curious? About… about what?” Your voice was barely a murmur, your gaze flicking nervously between her face and the door.

“About whether the rumors are true,” she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made the air between you both feel electric. She could feel your hesitation, but she wasn’t about to back down—not now.

Your breath hitched, and you took a small step back, the uncertainty clear in your expression. “I… I don’t think this is a good idea, Chaeryeong.”

But she only smiled, undeterred by the protest, taking the soft reluctance as a sign that she was closer to the truth than she’d expected. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said softly, her gaze steady as she leaned in, her hand tracing a slow line down your arm.

Before you could voice another word of protest, she closed the space between you, capturing your lips with her own in a kiss that was unhurried but unmistakably confident. You froze, the surprise evident as her warmth pressed against you, but after a moment, your hands found her waist, responding with an uncertainty that melted into something softer, bolder.

When she pulled back, your breath was shallow, confusion and conflict swirling in your gaze as you looked at her, trying to find the words. “Chaeryeong, I… I don’t want you to think—”

She lifted a finger to your lips, silencing you with a soft shush. “You don’t have to explain anything. I want this.”

Your expression betrayed your uncertainty, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else—a tension, an attraction you seemed to be struggling to contain. “But… what if this isn’t—”

“Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her voice soft as her hand found yours, guiding it gently. Her fingers brushed against your skin, warm and light, and you felt the world around you blur, the small room shrinking to just the two of you. “Just show me.”

“Show you?” you repeated, the words barely escaping your lips as you tried to steady yourself, her gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity that felt almost like a challenge.

Her smirk widened, her hand trailing downward, brushing against you with a deliberate slowness that sent a surge of heat through the quiet room. “Show me what I’ve been hearing about.”

A heavy silence fell between you, your gaze flicking toward the door, conflicted but drawn in by the certainty in her eyes. Something shifted in you then—whether it was the thrill of the moment, the pull of her confidence, or the simple desire to finally let go of your restraint, you couldn’t tell. You nodded slowly, your hands moving to the buttons of your shirt, your breath shallow as her eyes followed every motion.

As the last button fell open, Chaeryeong’s gaze grew intense, her breath catching as she took you in. For a moment, the noise and tension of the studio outside felt like a distant memory, her curiosity and excitement heightening with each second. It’s real, she thought, the truth of all the whispers and gossip settling into place, striking her with a thrill she hadn’t fully expected.

"Wow the rumors are true," she whispered, stepping closer. Her hands gently guided you to sit on the plush couch. "I've been looking for someone to be able to fulfill my needs and you are formidable" she admitted, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper.

Sitting down, your heart pounded as Chaeryeong knelt before you. There was a moment of stillness, her eyes locked with yours, before she leaned in. Her breath was warm against your member as she began, her touch sending waves of electricity through your body.

She started slowly, her lips parting to take you in, her movements deliberate and gentle. You could feel her tongue, soft and exploratory, circling the tip before she took more of you into her mouth. The warmth, the wetness, it was overwhelming.

As Chaeryeong continued, she seemed to grow more empowered with each inch she took. Her eyes, when they met yours, were filled with a proud determination. She was proving something to herself as much as she was pleasuring you.

The air was thick with anticipation and the subtle scent of her exertion. She was focused, each movement more deliberate and bold than the last. Her determination was palpable, and you could see it in the way she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated.

Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, using your body for support as she pushed herself to take more of you. With each movement, she adjusted her technique, learning as she went, adapting to the situation with a skill that only came from experience and a deep understanding of her craft.

You could feel the tension building in the room as she took more of you, sinking deeper with each thrust. Her breathing became heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of her exertion, mingling with the sound of her lips against your skin. Her hair brushed against your thighs as she moved, a soft and sensual contrast to the firmness of her grip.

Finally, she reached the base, her lips pressed against you as she took all of you in. It was a moment of pure intimacy and connection, a testament to her skill and dedication. And as she held you there, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and respect for the woman before you.

The feeling of your entire body being enveloped by warmth and tightness was overwhelming. You could feel the muscles of their throat contracting and relaxing around you, creating an indescribable level of pleasure that left you trembling. The sensation of being so completely encased was both thrilling and intimidating, and you couldn't help but let out a gasp of disbelief.

"No one has ever taken me so well before," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion and desire. Your words were muffled, but still understandable, as you were still buried deep within them. You could hear the surprise and satisfaction in your own voice, and it only served to heighten your arousal.

The experience was so intense and all-consuming that you found it hard to think or speak clearly. You were lost in a sea of pleasure, your mind and body fully focused on the sensations coursing through you. You couldn't believe the level of arousal from being completely inside Chaeryeong's throat. 

She paused for a brief moment, pulling back slowly with a satisfied, almost victorious smile gracing her lips. Her eyes slightly teary but gleamed with a sense of pride and accomplishment, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. In a way, she had discovered exactly how to please you in a manner that was unique to her.

She plunged back down, enveloping your shaft once again with her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue danced and swirled around your member, exploring every inch with a curiosity that was both exhilarating and arousing. The rhythm she employed was methodical and precise, building up a steady momentum that left you breathless and wanting more.

Chaeryeong's technique was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. She moved with a confidence and fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she had been practicing this art for centuries. Every movement was deliberate and calculated, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your body.

As she continued to work her magic, you could feel the tension building way too quick, like a coiled spring ready to burst. your muscles tensed and released, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to maintain control. But it was no use she had you under her spell, and there was nothing you could do but surrender to the inevitable.

Without warning, the peak arrived embarrassingly quickly, your body tensed up as you surrendered to the intense climax. A wave of pleasure washed over you from head to toe. Crying out her name, your fingers tangled in her hair, pushing her deeper as you rode out the high. Chaeryeong, who was completely dedicated to the moment, took you in as deeply as she could, her jaw stretched wide open to its maximum capacity. However, even with her best efforts, some of your release managed to escape past her lips, leaving a glistening trail that made its way down her chin. The sight of it was incredibly arousing, and it was clear that Chaeryeong had given her all to the moment, creating an unforgettable experience that would be etched in your memory for a long time.

She sat back on her heels, a look of satisfaction and slight surprise on her face as swallowed as much of your release as possible, savoring the taste as she wiped the corner of her mouth. Her chest heaved, not just from the physical exertion, but from the thrill of her achievement.

"Fuck, I cant wait to have you in my guts," she said, her voice a mix of pride and a playful challenge.

You could only nod, still reeling from the intensity, your mind buzzing with the intimacy of the moment.

As she straddled you with a grace that belied her iron will, the air around you thickened with anticipation. "I told you, I'm not like the others," she murmured, her voice a sultry blend of promise and challenge that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the room. "I'm going to take it all, every inch of you."

Chaeryeong reached down and positioned you member along her toned tummy. the outline of your shaft reaching past her belly button and the sight only seemed to heighten her arousal. She lifted herself up and placed your tip right at her entrance. As the first surge of her entry made contact, a sharp and searing connection coursed through both of you, a potent mixture of challenge and exhilaration. Ugh, finally the words echoed in her mind, a silent testament to the culmination of her relentless pursuit.

Her body's response to your formidable presence was visceral, yielding and stretching in a way that was almost overwhelming. It was a threshold moment, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into a singular, exquisite sensation. The initial sting of the stretch was rapidly eclipsed by a rush of empowerment, a triumphant defiance that scoffed at any hint of intimidation.

As each second ticked by, she experienced a growing sense of command and authority over the situation. She welcomed the intensity, the complexity, and the overwhelming power of the experience, using it to bolster her confidence and firm her resolve.

The moment was profound for both of you, a shared experience of vulnerability and intimacy that neither had encountered before. As you moved together in a rhythm as old as time, there was a sense of exploration, a journey into the uncharted territories of each other's bodies and souls.

For you, the sensation was overwhelmingly new. The initial penetration was a revelation, the heat of her inner walls enveloped you, the tightness and the pulsating warmth bonded you to her in a way words could scarcely capture. Every inch was cradled by her as you became one. It was as if the very essence of your being was being drawn out, channeled through the physical connection that tethered you to her.

While for Chaeryeong, the experience was equally transformative. She felt a stretching, a yielding of her deepest self to accommodate your presence. The depths of her womb were stirred as if from a long slumber. It was as though ancient, primal instincts were roused, acknowledging the potential of creation that lay within the act.

Her body responded with a knowing of its own, a subtle undulation that seemed to draw you in further, inviting you to explore the innermost sanctum of her being. With each movement, she felt more alive, more in tune with the ebbs and flows of her own desire, mirroring the dance of life itself.

Her breaths grew deeper, her grasp tightened, and her spirit soared. She reveled in the realization that she was not merely a passive participant in this dance of passion—she was the masterful conductor, leading them both in this symphony of sensation and connection.

With every sinuous sway of her hips, Chaeryeong's dominance unfurled like a nocturnal bloom, each movement a testament to her unyielding control. She danced a dance of power that commanded the space around her, her body moving with a precision and intent that was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice, rich and velvety, wove a sultry symphony that resonated with the raw essence of confidence and command, her words hanging in the air like a seductive incantation.

"Ugh, fuck you're huge," she murmured, her breaths short and quick from the exertion of her rhythmic movements. "You'll never feel this good with anyone else." Her words, laced with a potent blend of pleasure and cunning seduction, curled into the air like tendrils of smoke, captivating the senses and ensnaring the mind. In that moment, Chaeryeong was the embodiment of dominance, her presence an indomitable force that rewrote the rules of engagement, leaving an indelible mark on the soul.

Your gaze was locked onto the vision before you—Chaeryeong's face, a canvas of pure pleasure, her body undulating with a rhythm that resonated deep within your being. A moan escaped your lips, a testament to the desire that was building like a crescendo within you.

She sensed your struggle, the battle to maintain control as you teetered on the brink of something monumental. "Look at you," she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress your soul. Her fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, a touch that was both tender and tantalizing. "I'm making you feel so good, aren't I?"

Her words were a silken web, ensnaring you in a trap of yearning from which there was no escape. "You're going to lose yourself in me, aren't you?" she continued, a hint of satisfaction threading through her tone. "After this, you won't want anyone else. You’ll be mine."

Your grip tightened around her waist, a futile attempt to anchor yourself amidst the tumultuous sea of sensations. "I... I can't hold back much longer, Chaeryeong," you confessed, the urgency in your voice betraying your helplessness.

Her smirk was a promise of the inevitable, her movements an expertly choreographed invitation to let go. "Oh, why would you hold back? I want to feel every last bit of you inside me," she teased, her own excitement evident in the catch of her breath.

The air between you crackled with electricity, each touch, each movement fueling the fire that raged within. The rhythm of your union grew ever more insistent, a siren's call to the depths of abandon. "I won’t be able to stop," you managed to utter, a final warning as your eyes locked with hers, the last vestiges of your resolve dissolving under the weight of your need for her.

Chaeryeong's response was a whisper that scorched your ear and sent a fresh cascade of desire down your spine. "That’s exactly what I want. Show me how much you need me," she commanded, her voice a low thrum that resonated with the primal beat of your hearts.

With a renewed fervor, she moved against you, her hips a maelstrom of motion that drove you both inexorably toward the precipice. The world outside this room ceased to exist; only the two of you remained, entwined and moving as one. The couch beneath you protested faintly, its legs scraping against the floor—a mere whisper compared to the symphony of your mingled breaths and the roar of passion that enveloped you.

"Cum for me," she urged, her voice a blend of triumph and anticipation. "Show me you’re mine."

With a final, surrendering thrust, you reached the zenith of pleasure, your voice breaking in a raw, primal cry as ecstasy consumed you. "I'm cumming," you declared, your body a conduit for the overwhelming surge of release that coursed through every nerve.

The room was thick with the scent of passion, a musky perfume that clung to the air and enveloped the two entwined figures. Chaeryeong's breaths came in short, sharp gasps. Her body, slick with the exertion of their shared dance, moved with an urgency that matched the pounding of her heart, a drumbeat that seemed to echo the rhythm of their lovemaking.

As she surrendered to the waves of her climax, she found herself immersed in an ocean of bliss, her body quivering beneath the relentless surge of rapture. "Yes! I'm cumming! Fill me up" she screamed, her cries a declaration of victory.

Each pump of your seed overflowing within her propelled her to new heights, a sensation that had once been merely a fantastical dream, now vividly experienced. Her body convulsed and succumbed to the intensity, her cries intermingling with the potent atmosphere of the room, culminating in an intoxicating sensory symphony. At long last, she had discovered the pinnacle of her sexual quest, the ultimate fulfillment that had eluded her until this moment of unbridled surrender.

Her fingers, like talons, clawed at your chest, not out of aggression but from a primal need to mark you as hers. She sought to erase the boundaries between you, to blur the lines until there was no her, no you, but a singular entity caught in the throes of passion. It was as if she believed that with enough force, enough desire, she could fuse your very essences together, creating a bond that transcended the physical realm.

As the warmth of the moment settled around you both, Chaeryeong’s fingers moved with slow, intentional strokes along your collarbone, lingering as if marking her place. She traced small circles over your skin, her touch both gentle and claiming, a wordless reminder that she held a special kind of control here. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering and filled with a spark of something deeper, a hint of possessive pride in the effect she had on you.

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice low and deliberate. “You know,” she murmured, each word sinking in with quiet intensity, “no one else could ever take you like I do.” Her fingers drifted to your jawline, holding you there as she spoke, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you in a way that felt intimate, almost territorial. “You’re mine now,” she added softly, her voice laced with a blend of warmth and certainty, as if she had no doubt of the truth in her words.

There was a satisfaction in her expression, a quiet, possessive pride that seemed to fill the space between you. Her hand found yours, and her grip tightened, an unspoken promise in the way her fingers intertwined with yours. “When you want this again”—she gave your hand a gentle squeeze—“you’ll know exactly where to find me.”

Her eyes never left yours, her gaze intense and steady as if binding you to her in an unbreakable vow. She leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was slow and lingering, a deliberate, possessive mark she left there like a signature, something to remember her by.

When she finally pulled away, the warmth of her core around your shaft vanished, replaced by the cold, empty air that only made you crave her all the more. As she rose, a trace of your seed slipped down from her glistening folds. The sight stirred something primal within you—a longing that went beyond desire, a need to be inside her again, to feel that consuming warmth at all times.

Her hand lingered on your chest as she looked down at you, her gaze satisfied yet somehow gentle, as if savoring the effect she’d left on you. Her fingers traced along your jaw, her touch warm and lingering, as if marking you with the memory of her presence.

With an effortless grace, she rose to her feet and cast one last, lingering look back at you. Her gaze held a quiet dominance, an unspoken assurance that the spark between you was entirely hers to command. She dressed herself swiftly, leaving the lingering trace of your essence inside her, a mark of the connection you’d just shared. And as she slipped away, her touch, her warmth, and the faint, visceral reminder of your bond wrapped around you like an invisible tether—one you knew you’d carry long after she was gone.

[oizysian]

03 // Being forced to kneel // Little Wolf

Summary: Lady Maximoff deals with an intruder.

Pairing: Vampire!Scarlet Witch x Werewolf!Y/N

Warnings: submission, slight bondage

Word count: 800

Kinktober masterlist

“Mistress, we found this beast outside on the castle grounds.”

In chains was a werewolf, snapping and snarling at the guards that had captured it. They had chains around its neck, arms, and even its legs. How it managed to walk was beyond the Queen. She watched as they dragged it over to her, watching as it struggled every step of the way. She tilted her head, smiling as it flung one of her guards into a wall and two others had to jump in to subdue it.

“Kneel before your Queen.”

It snarled at her in response. Her dark eyes narrowed at it, her perfectly manicured nails clicked on the armrest of her throne impatiently, her silver rings gleaming.

“I said ‘kneel!’” She snapped and the guard on her left kicked the wolf in the back of the leg, causing it to lose its balance and fall down on one knee.

“That’s how I like my prisoners.” She smiled widely and gestured to the guard holding the chain around the creature's neck to pull.

It let out a growl, falling down on both knees and attempted to free itself from its bindings.

She raised her hand once more and the guard let up on the pressure, and it began to calm down.

“I don’t want to look at this … beast anymore. Change. I want to see who was brave enough to trespass on my grounds.”

The beast panted heavily, staring her down, before bowing its head and letting out a loud sigh. Before her eyes, the giant wolf turned into a normal sized woman, who was shaking with emotion.

“What a surprise. I expected it to be another man coming to kill me. Or force me full of his seed.”

At her words, the woman looked up, disgusted at the thought. No, she hadn’t been here to harm the Queen. On the contrary, she wanted to serve her. But these fool guards had captured her and ruined everything.

“What do you want?” She finally asked, looking into the tortured eyes of the wolf-woman.

“To serve.” Her voice was hoarse with misuse.

The Queen looked down at her prisoner, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“And what makes you think you can serve me?”

“I’m strong,” she huffed. “And I’m loyal.”

“Bring her here.” The guards dragged the naked woman to the throne, handing the Queen the chains that were wrapped around the prisoners neck. “Remove those chains.”

They followed orders, freeing her arms and legs, leaving only the chain around her neck in place.

“Leave us.” She directed towards the guards and they all hesitated a moment before backing up and leaving the throne room.

She pulled on the chain and the woman fell to her knees at her feet, head bowed.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” The wolf replied.

“A beautiful name.” She hummed.

“Lady Maximoff, please let me serve you. I’ll do anything -”

“Anything?” She questioned and the other woman nodded curtly. “Come here.” She beckoned and the wolf obeyed, crawling up to the foot of her throne, head still bowed. “Lift my skirts.”

She raised her head, eyes wide with confusion, but obeyed nevertheless, lifting up the Queens skirts and holding them up, waiting for her next command.

“Lick my pussy. Make a meal out of it.”

The wolf was unsure of the Queen’s intentions, so she stayed still at her feet, still holding up her skirts.

“I know you’re not dumb.” She said, tugging on the chain. “Go on.”

She hesitated, licking her lips before crawling up the throne and settling between the Queen's legs, letting the skirts fall down behind her. Eager to please, she kissed her inner thighs, licking and nipping at her before pressing opened mouthed kisses along her slit. She could hear the Queen moaning as her tongue explored her cunt, dipping inside her and swirling around her throbbing clit.

She could feel the Queen’s hand pushing her head down through her skirts, urging her on.

“Oh, yes,” the Queen whispered, her hips rocking up to meet the girl’s tongue. “You’ll do.”

Y/N hummed against her, lapping at her wetness greedily, happy to be pleasing her. She gripped at her thighs, holding her still as she began to tremble underneath her hands.

“Fuck yes, little wolf, I’m gonna cum.”

Her words fueled her inner fire, her own slick coating her inner thighs as she brought the Queen to release. The Queen pulled up her skirts, releasing the wolf and letting her crawl out from underneath them.

“I think I’ll be keeping you.” The Queen breathed, smiling to herself, tugging the chain around her neck so she got closer to her.

Y/N climbed up onto her lap and Lady Maximoff kissed her, tasting herself on her lips.

“Oh, yes, I’ll be keeping you.”

[myladysapphire]

Red

you are a priestess of R'hollor, sent to dragonstone to assure the bloodline of the prince who was promised. And though you are welcomed by the queen, prince Jacaerys only looks at you with trempidation, seeing your place at his mothers side to be some ploy. But luckily for you there is always a way for the red priesstes to sawy others to their cause.

based of this request

word count: 1,476

CW: MDI 18+,smut, p in v, oral (m reciving), not proofread!

Jacaerys Veleryon x red priestess!reader

Masterlist

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: defintly canon divergant, and does not follow the plot of hotd or got.

You had been sent to Dragonstone before the dance of dragons to treat with Rhaenyra. Sent on a mission by the cult of R’hllor to ensure the bloodline of the prince who was promised survived.

And though you had quickly won over Rhaenyra, winning a seat on her council, you had yet to win over her son and heir.

With years of wisdom, and a skilled seer, she saw you as a key advisor and so your advice was greatly valued by her.

But the prince Jacearys was weary of your presence. Not taking kindly to just how quickly you had found yourself on the council, or to how close you and his mother had grown.

But what he was most weary about was just how enthralled by you he was.

The second he had seen you he was enchanted, his eyes always roaming over to yours. At dinners he always found himself seated beside you, his yes drawn to your low-cut red dress.

You were always in red. Your gowns a deep blood red, matching the blood ruby of the necklace always clasped around your neck.

The gem seemed to glow, as if enchanted, and all Jace could ever imagine was taking it off and replacing it with his hand as he filled you with his cock.

Perhaps it was the teasing smile you would give him whenever you spoke, or how you seemed to always match his heated glare with your own.

But nevertheless, his thoughts were filled with lust and desire, all for you.

“My prince” you greeted, as he walked into his rooms to find you seated on his desk.

“Did the guards let you in?” he asked, moving towards you. He seemed unsure of your presence, still unsure of what to make of you, of your place by his mother’s side.

“no” you said, smirking.

“Then how- “

“It matters not, my prince” you said as he came to stand before you. “Do you hate me so much that you cannot even stand my presence?” you teased.

“I do not hate you” he denied.

“Then what is it, hmm? Is it that you are jealous?” you said, moving your face closer to his.

“Jealous of what?” he said, not unkindly.

“I do not know my prince, perhaps it is that your mother chooses my council over your own…” you trailed of noticing his angered face. You smiled slightly. “Do not worry, sweet prince, you have no need to be jealous.” You hand moved to his chest.

“And why is that” he mused, swallowing slightly as you started to caress his chest.

“I only act in your interest” you said, motioning him to sit, on the chair in front of you.

“My interest”

“Yes...you are the future king, are you not?”

He nodded, slowing as you began to open your legs.

“I only wish to protect the realm, and as king is that not your duty?” you asked, your legs open fully know, your bare cunt on display.

“It is...yes” you dropped your hand from his chest, moving it to play with skirt of your dress.

You smiled, “did you know that as a babe I was gifted to the temple of R’hollor, bound to serve the lord of light before I could even talk…and then my skills as a seer were discovered.” You said as moved your hands to your shoulders, teasing Jace as you toyed with the sleeves of your dress, pulling them down ever so slightly.  “And as a seer I see many things, do you know what one of those things was?”

He shook his head, his eyes drawn to your cleavage.

You smiled, teasingly, “you on the iron throne, your curls” you moved to touch his curls, threading them through your fingers, as you pulled his face closer to yours “your brown eyes, and the conquers crown before your brow, the very image of a king” your mouths were so close, so close that you were sharing each other’s breaths.

“And as a king, you can have whatever your heart desires…any wife…any lover” you whispered, and as the word lover left your mouth, his lips descended on yours.

It was a heated kiss, fuelled by the envy he had felt for you, the desire he had felt, and the pure lust he had dreamt of.

You moaned into his mouth, a pure unfiltered moan, which caused Jace to act.

He stood from his chair, pushing you back on the desk. He pulled up of what little of your dress remained on you.

His body covered yours and he continued to kiss you, his hands flying to your side as he pulled you towards him. His tongue teasing your lips before plunging into your mouth.

His hips ground against yours, his clothes cock rubbing against your bare cunt, as you laid on the table, his tongue dominating your mouth.

He pulled back Sharpley, settling back his in seat, taking in your naked from.

As you sat up, he drew you towards him, his eyes firm.

“Anything I desire?” he questioned.

You nodded,

Breath heavy.

He laughed slightly, “and if I wanted you off my mother s council? If I only wanted, you by my side and not hers?”

“Then I would do as my king bids” you said, moving of the table, to settle between his knees.

Your hands toyed with the laces of his breeches.

He smirked, “good.” He titled his head, “then your king bids you to suck his cock” he said, as your hands tore into his breeches, his cock springing free.

Taking him into your mouth, he let out a low moan.

His hands coming to grasp your head as he began to thrust his hips into your mouth, fucking your face, as you sucked on his cock.

His hips moved fast, and before you knew it the sour taste of cum filled your mouth.

Swallowing, you looked him in the yes, moving to sit in his lap. But Jace acted faster, turning you around and bending you over the table.

He was completely naked now also.

You could feel his chiselled chest against you back as he entered you.

Bounding hard and fast, as you desperately gripped to the table.

His cock filled you in the most pleasurable of ways, hitting that one sweet spot again and again.

Moans spilled out of your mouth as you peak hit you. It was quick and sudden, but it seemed so was Jace’s, as you soon felt his seed spilling it you.

he leant his head against your back as you both caught your breath.

Taking in the moment, as his seed spilled out of you and hit the floor.

You turned around to face him, taking in his dishevelled naked form.

“My prince- “you started, breath heavy.

“Was your vison true?” he questioned, interrupting you.

“As true as I can believe, my prince”.

“Jace, please, call me Jace”.

“Jace” you smiled, “I was sent here for a purpose, I am on your mother’s council for a purpose, and that is to ensure her bloodline, to ensure you sit on that iron throne after her”.

“Why? You came is so abruptly, and before I knew it my mother favoured your advice over my own- “

“Because I knew of the prophecy”.

“The prophecy?” he asked confused.

“The prince who was promised?” you asked, unsure of how he did not know, “the prince that was promised was prophesied five thousand years ago, it was said that he shall be Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star." You said, thinking his mother surely must have told him, “It is believed he shall be Azor Azhai, the lord of light reborn. Your ancestor Aegon the conquered dream to of him, it is believed he shall come from your bloodline.”

“This is why my mother trusts you? Because of a prophecy” he said, not believing you. “I had thought you a witch, enchanting us all”.

You laughed, “not quite my prince, though the lord of light blesses some with magic, he only blessed me with sight and this gem” you said, grasping the gem between your fingers.

“I’ve always wondered about that gem, what does it do?” he asked, reaching for it. You gently slapped his fingers out of the way.

“Only time shall tell you that”.

He smirked, “so you are a witch?” he laughed.

“No…” you trailed of your hand still gripping his.

“I must tell my mother!” he said dramatically, “first a priestess of R’hollor and now a witch! Whatever shall she think?” he said, teasingly.

And you shut him up with a kiss, your hand reaching down to his cock once more.

And soon his cock was filling you over and over again, all through the night.

Talks of prophecy and thrones long forgotten.

taglist

@apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @RAYNETARGARYEN2 @cloboboo @now-i-have-a-new-obsession @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @aegonswife @beebeechaos @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark

to be added to taglist

[flowerandblood]

White Marriage (2)

[ Kingdom of Heaven • King Baldwin x female ]

[ warnings: fingering, virginity loss, sex content, poetic smut, angst, a detailed description of the deadly disease and the unpleasant symptoms associated with it ]

[ description: After their nuptials, the court becomes even more divided. The King, however, wishes to spend the last years of his life experiencing the joys he finds in the closeness of his wife. His bride was never to lose her maidenhood, however, is what the King has proclaimed to his subjects what he really craves? ]

Author’s Note: After the warm reception of the first part, which I didn't expect at all, here is the second part of their story! I have to admit that I had a great time writing it and I love them. I tried to leave some realism and not forget about his illness and the fact that it is contagious.

Part Two of Paradise Fruit. Can be read as a standalone story.

Word count: 4.600

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Their nuptials were humble – apart from the Archbishop, who gave them his blessing, uniting them for eternity, they were accompanied only by Sibylla and her husband, enraged, thinking that the King was just fulfilling his sneaky plan.

He truly believed that he would have exposed her to such danger, condemning her to the cruel disease that tormented his members to try to beget an heir.

She was grateful to her Princess for lending her one of her beautiful, gold-embellished robes that day – Sibylla knew what purpose this marriage was intended to serve and that it would not change the order of succession.

She was to be his comfort, a moment of relief and solace, nothing more.

Nevertheless, she smiled, feeling happiness filling her heart, her king's gaze tender and full of affection, from which she felt warmth in her chest.

She thought that she had fallen in love with him.

Their marriage was announced to all and sundry, and she became a king's wife, but not a queen.

She was not bothered by this.

She was assigned a chamber right next to his – she could now visit him whenever she wished and did not have to worry about the King's honour.

As she walked into his quarters, clad only in a thin night robe, a smile of happiness adorned her face. Baldwin, though tired, also seemed pleased and rose at the sight of her.

"Wife." He said, entwining his hands behind his back.

His figure was all clad in white as usual, though the material of his wardrobe seemed thicker to her, a silver mask on his face.

To her surprise she noticed that his gloves were black, apparently made of leather.

She bowed to him, recognising that she was not intending to think about it now.

"My King. My husband. You are the man of your word." She whispered warmly, looking up at him from above her long lashes, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen meeting his gaze, hot and dark.

"I am." He replied. "I couldn't deny myself this pleasure. It was an act of my selfishness, not my greatness."

She blinked, cocking her head, feeling for some reason amused by his words.

"Does it matter now?" She asked lightly – something flashed across his gaze, she thought he smiled.

"No. Not in the slightest."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his orders – he had announced that because of his disease he would not take her maidenhood and their marriage would be white, however, after what had gone on between them earlier, she did not think her husband would want to remain an ascetic in every aspect.

"Let me see you." He said finally, his voice like a sigh.

She knew what he meant, she knew what he wanted – she could see it in his gaze. Her hands rose to the small knot above her breasts, untying it, slipping the thin material of her nightgown off her shoulders in a light, gentle motion, remaining bare before him.

She shuddered, feeling the chill of the chamber surround her body despite the flames burning in the fireplace beside her, her lips parted as she noticed her king's gaze shift, misty and filled with a familiar, hot desire.

For a moment he looked at her with his head tilted, as if he was simply admiring her, nothing more.

"My physicians have said that the leather material, as opposed to linen, will ensure that you are protected from the touch of my bare skin and what it may cause." He said, tentatively extending his hand to her, and she felt her heart thump harder in her chest with joy.

She could touch him.

They both drew in a loud breath as she placed her fingers on his palm, letting him pull her a little closer, the spot between her thighs all swollen with desire, slowly growing moist with her wetness.

Her lips parted with her gasp of surprise as his other hand touched her cheek – she snuggled her face into it, placing affectionate kisses of her lips on it.

"I would give all the treasures of this chamber, my possessions and my gold coins to feel the taste of your lips on mine." He gasped, looking at her as if she were a precious jewel, a spring water that quenches thirst, an olive tree that feeds whole nations.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the sizzling fire and their hitched breaths as his thumb ran over her full, lower lip. She parted it before him and let him slide it deeper, between her teeth. Her lips clamped slowly around his finger, looking up at him with desire as she began to suck.

A low groan escaped his throat at the sight, clearly imagining that he was forcing something completely different down her throat.

He placed his other hand on her back, at the same time pulling her closer and holding her at arm's length, apparently afraid that even his breath was dangerous to her, possibly dooming her to his fate.

She moaned when he gave in, when his mask pressed against her forehead, his eyelids all red around his bright pupils.

"– forgive me –"

She didn't know why his words, filled with so much sadness and desire, made her throw her hands on his shoulders, her lips clinging greedily to the unpleasantly cold, silver structure of his mask.

She closed her eyes, hearing his gasp of surprise, placing lingering, hot kisses full of her saliva and tongue on the surface of it, imagining he was able to feel it, his hands sinking into her hair.

"– touch me, husband – I crave you –" She mewled helplessly, running her hands over the material beneath which was his head, his hair, his jaw and neck.

She squealed when he lifted her suddenly by her buttocks, the quiet hiss that escaped his lips made her understand that this sudden movement must have caused him pain.

She stroked the back of his head as he moved towards his bed with his face nestled between her breasts, not wanting to show him any sympathy now that he wanted to be a strong man in her eyes.

He let out a breath as he laid her down on the soft sheets, his gaze full of tenderness as he looked at her face.

"– lie on your stomach and spread your thighs –" He said calmly and gently, however, something in his words and their undertone made her feel a heat in her lower abdomen and a wonderful tickling sensation.

She obeyed his command immediately, feeling her legs become stiff as he caught her around the waist and lifted her hips, forcing her to buck her buttocks in front of him in a shameless manner.

She heard his heavy breath as he positioned himself behind her on his knees, running his leather-gloved hands over the soft skin of her buttocks, herself panting hard, knowing where he was looking now.

"– the reason why Paris abducted Helen of Troy – the cause of the downfall and delight of all mankind locked deep between my wife's thighs –" He whispered in such a sensual way that she moaned pathetically, clenching her eyelids as his thumb ran over her leaking, throbbing womanhood.

Apparently he liked the sound she made, because one of his hands slid into her hair, holding her in place, reassuring him that she wouldn't take advantage of his weakness and try to expose him in an act of pleasure, endangering him and herself.

"– lie still – shhhh, my love –" He whispered, hearing her innocent cry of desperation as his fingers began to trail around her oversensitive, swollen bud, waves of tingling and tickling sensations spreading through her body dulling her mind, causing her to emit uncontrollable sounds.

She could hear him panting as she watched what he was doing to her, his fingers digging into her delicate folds with a loud click of her wetness, barely teasing her – her hips began to roll back and forth, responding to his treatments, trying to find a better source of rubbing.

"– have mercy on me –" She mumbled with difficulty, her lips parted wide in a girlish moan when, at her request, the tip of his middle finger burst into her fleshy, hot interior.

The experience was at once full of discomfort and delight – at first the material of his glove was cold, but in time her body temperature enveloped him with its heat.

"– God – so warm –" He whispered in a voice trembling with emotion, in some involuntary, primitive reflex forcing her to take his finger deeper inside her, meeting resistance.

"– yes or no –" He breathed out, making her gasp.

Yes or no.

She froze, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, knowing that he had lied: he had only declared their marriage as white so that after his death his sister's husband would not attempt to kill her out of fear that she might be carrying his heir.

The future King.

"– yes –"

Her fingers clenched on the fabric of the sheet beneath her as he pierced something inside her in one aggressive motion, along with her squeal taking her maidenhood.

She began to wriggle under him with sweet whimpers of delight as his first finger was joined by a second, opening her wide for him only to fuck her before his eyes.

Tears of pleasure and shock ran down her cheeks as she moaned like a mere whore, spreading her thighs wider, his fingers thicker and longer than hers, stretching her so wonderfully.

"– please –" She whimpered, responding with her hips to each thrust of his hand, the tips of his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside her with startling precision again and again, while his thumb teased her little pearl between her folds with reluctance.

She bucked up more, panting loudly along with him, feeling the drops of her own wetness begin to run down her thighs one by one, soaking his hand, the fingers of his free palm clenched in her hair.

"– go on – please your King –" He commanded in a low voice from which her weeping cunt clenched around his fingers in convulsions of ecstasy, the sweet, stupefying pleasure making her cry out loudly, her legs bent at the knees quivering all over from the exertion.

"– a-ah –" She mumbled out, her face red with emotion as her body shook with a fulfilment so strong that her leaking, hot walls began to simply suck him inside. He felt it and moaned in a boyish manner, stopping moving, keeping his two fingers slipped deep into her body, just wanting to feel how it pulsed around them.

"– yes – just like that – easy now – easy –" He praised her, slowly sliding them out of her, and she swallowed hard, letting her body fall back onto the bed, panting loudly.

She sighed as he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs, looking at her with eyes black with desire, his hand slipped under the material of his robe.

Only then did she notice that his garment had a slit in the area underneath where his manhood was.

Although he had not allowed her to look at it then, now that he had grasped it in his hand and directed it at her throbbing womanhood, she saw the fat, pink head of it, dripping with his desire.

His hand clamped down on her soft breast, careful, however, not to cause her pain as he began to squeeze his swollen erection in his palm, with sharp, aggressive strokes from the very base to the tip chasing his fulfilment.

She moaned innocently, surprised, tilting her head back as his thumb ran over her hard, sensitive nipple, playing with it, something like satisfaction flashed through his gaze when he saw that this kind of touch was giving her pleasure.

"– my wife is so eager – so devoted to her poor husband – hm? –" He gasped, his breathing heavy as he accelerated, already squeezing only the base of his manhood, rocking his hips back and forth, struggling to restrain himself from opening her up, from sinking into her, from feeling her.

She rolled her hips forward encouragingly, rubbing her moist cunt against the thick head of his erection, drawing a low, almost animalistic groan from his throat, his silhouette moving slightly away.

"– no –" He growled with pain and anger, involuntarily returning again and again to her warmth, letting the tip of it push against her swollen, thirsty slit.

"– please, my King – put inside me –" She begged, but he shook his head and simply came with a loud moan of pleasure, his pearly, sticky spend spewing onto her womanhood.

He stared at this shameless sight, his head bowed low, his breath heavy as if he had just accomplished some heroic feat.

"– you need to bathe in hot water – immediately – dress yourself, I'll call the servants –" He exclaimed, rising abruptly from the bed, covering his manhood back with his robe, wiping his hand sticky with her wetness into its material.

She stood up quickly, horrified that he was surely angry with her for not listening to him, hastily dressing her nightgown over her shoulders, bursting into sobs.

"– forgive me, my King – forgive me, do not send me away –" She begged, but he did not listen to her, ordering his servant to immediately bring the tub into his chamber and fill it with hot water.

Although it slightly burned her skin when she stepped inside, her husband-king explained that the heat killed whatever was spreading his disease, and the oils and herbs that were thrown in were to prevent any other infections.

She looked at him with big eyes as he sat beside her, dipping his leather-gloved hand into the water along with a piece of cloth, sinking it then between her thighs, making sure not a single drop of his seed remained on it.

"– will you forgive me, my beloved? –" She muttered pleadingly, watching his face. He looked at her with a chastising look and sighed heavily.

"– it is I who should beg your forgiveness – I have allowed myself to be carried away by my desires, which have suppressed my reason – do not fear, it will not happen again – after your bath you will return to your chamber and will no longer visit me in the evenings –" He said calmly, looking away.

Her heart stopped in her throat, her brow arching in pain and disbelief at his words.

"Are you sending me away?" She muttered with difficulty. He looked at her, surprised apparently by her question and reaction, his hand froze in mid-motion.

"You can't sleep here because I am here. My breath, my proximity are deadly. I am exposing you even now. Before sleep, my physicians pull off most of the fabric that covers my body. I will never let you see this." He said and swallowed hard, seeing as tears one by one began to run down her cheeks.

"You break my heart. At least let my bed be placed next to yours. Drape it with curtains so that I may not see you or your body at night, but that I may at least hear your voice, hear your presence in the same chamber." She said pleadingly, touching his beautiful silver mask with her hand, his gaze tired and sad, filled with pain.

He hesitated.

"The chamber is not locked. Place my bed by the windows, by the fresh air. Do not condemn me to solitude, show me mercy, my King." She whispered, once again placing a kiss on his mask, on his cold, silver lips, his sigh testifying that he pressed his lips on the other side, reciprocating her caress.

"You are my doom."

At his command, her bed was moved to his chamber, raising voices full of resentment from some of the monks and priests, commenting on the fact that her maidenhood might be called into question.

"White marriage, to my knowledge, does not mean that husband and wife live separately. On the contrary, we should indulge in prayers together and be each other's comfort by day and night."

Honour Knights and Lords were concerned about what kind of comfort his little wife was to him.

Each day, the physicians sent by King Saladin checked the condition of her body and whether there were any signs of infection – her husband watched it from the sidelines in horror, relief in his gaze each time he heard from their lips that his wife was in good health.

However, taking advantage of the fact that the King had left the chamber after her examination, returning to his duties, one of his medics approached her, pale.

"My Lady. Spending so much time in the King's company, you will certainly contract his disease. Often its first symptoms do not appear until years after infection. It is possible that it is already too late." He muttered, bowing before her.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him calmly, feeling discomfort in her stomach.

"Would my husband live to see the time when the first symptoms could be apparent? If it turned out I was infected." She mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No, my Lady."

She smiled at his words and nodded.

"Thank you. Assure my King that I am well and can abide with him as before."

The man looked at her, in his eyes disbelief but at the same time a kind of admiration, compassion and warmth from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"My Lady."

The days in Jerusalem were often sunny and hot, and as her husband rejoiced at the sight of her bare body, she walked around his chambers naked, feeling like a Greek goddess, Aphrodite or Artemis.

She would read old volumes, play the lute or embroider while spreading out comfortably on large cushions so that he could see her, and he would admire her from afar like a nymph.

"– my wife is like a fruit of paradise – like a goddess born of the sea foam –" He murmured, looking at her contentedly, bent over the dozens of parchments spread out on his table.

The servants knew that they could not enter his quarters without permission, for although he was gentle and affectionate in his manner, he did not wish to share this shameless sight with anyone.

However, what most of their days consisted of were conversations.

Her husband was a great speaker – they were discussing the Bible, faith, philosophy, poetry, art, war and history for long hours.

At nights, when he couldn't sleep from his pain, hearing his sighs and quiet moans that he tried to suppress for her sake, she would ask him questions.

She couldn't touch his hands or embrace him – his body needed rest, to breathe to keep from rotting and for at least a few hours a day it was supposed to be uncovered.

"Christ says to the adulteress: go and sin no more. However, he knows, as God incarnate, that this is not his command, but a recommendation. Sin is the fatal disease of every human being and we all sin in thought, in speech, in deed, in neglect. This is no reason to be sad. Christ is merely saying: live in such a way as not to cause yourself or others suffering, try to live with dignity, in harmony with yourself and your Father in Heaven."

"Is it known what happened to her afterwards?" She asked quietly, looking at his silhouette, seeing only its outline on the other side of his bed.

"Some identify her with Mary Magdalene or Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. But it could also have been a person not mentioned by name in the Gospel. She certainly followed Christ and became one of his disciples." He said, his voice clearer without his mask, calm and soft.

"Do you think God considers me an adulteress?" She asked in a trembling voice and heard him shift restlessly in his bed.

"Why should such an unjust and harsh judgment fall on my wife? Because she is devoted to me with her soul, heart and body? Haven't you done everything I asked of you and even more? You are as pure as the sheet I lie on, as the delicate fabrics I wear on my skin. Your beauty makes me even more aware of my ugliness." He whispered with pain that made her swallow hard, shocked by his words.

"To me, you are the most beautiful of men. Before I met you, I swore to God that I would never marry, that I would not share Sibylla's fate. He showed me mercy, filling my heart with a burning feeling for you, my beloved."

He was silent, but she heard him exhale loudly, his trembling sigh full of suffering.

He cried.

"If only you could look at my face, see what a disgusting caricature of a human I am, you would understand what a great mistake you made." He howled, choking on his own tears, clearly letting out what had been weighing on his heart for weeks.

The fear that if she accidentally saw his face, she would scream in terror and run away.

"Is your faith in me so weak? I hoped you think of me with respect." She mumbled, heartbroken, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She heard him swallow hard at her words, clearly terrified that he had offended her.

"I do, my love. Forgive me."

"I fell in love with a human, not an earthly shell." She said, but he didn't answer her.

She watched the silhouette of her husband and his physicians each evening through the curtains, seeing them only as through a fog in the candlelight, their shadows dancing around her.

She could hear his hisses and cries of pain as they treated his wounds, see the outline of his head, always with his back turned to her.

When they were finally left alone and he lay down on his bed, she heard his sigh of relief, his face, though she couldn't see it, turned towards her.

"My sweetest?" He whispered, and she smiled warmly, feeling a wonderful delight in her heart every time he called her that.

"I'm here, my love." She murmured, twisting comfortably in her bed.

"I desire you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her warm womanhood throb around nothing.

"I desire you too, my beloved."

They were both silent for a long moment, the tension around them palpable in the air.

"– one of my physicians –" He began in a trembling voice. "– at my request, he created something that I can – put on my length so as not to touch you directly – from what I understand, he made it from the intestine of some animal and disinfected it – he assured me that it would be safe for both of us, but –"

"– yes –" She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like crazy at the thought that he wanted to do this to her.

"– you know it's a risk –" He said, his voice quivering with longing, the shadow of his silhouette turned towards her.

"– I knew it from the very beginning – I don't care what happens to my body – I just want to feel my beloved husband inside me –" She whispered with embarrassment and that seemed to be enough for him.

She heard him stand up, quickly putting the cloth and mask over his head as he appeared on the other side, beside her bed, looking as he usually did – the same black leather gloves on his hands, his fingers clenched on a small wooden box.

"– undress –" He commanded, and she did so, literally ripping off herself her nightgown, laying down on her stomach.

His silhouette was instantly next her, kneeling behind her buttocks, his breath hitched and quickened when she heard the rustling of something and another strange, sticky sound.

After a moment, his fingers tentatively and gently ran over her swollen, pink folds, collecting her wetness, which had already managed to trickle down her thigh.

"– no other treatments are needed – my sweet wife is leaking like a forest stream –" He hummed with delight and admiration, she felt her cheeks blush with embarrassment.

They both sighed as she felt something thick and hard begin to push against her puffy slit, opening her wide – despite her lack of preparation her cunt pulsed in delight, moist with desire.

The feeling of him deep inside her, so intense and definitive, of how hard his long, thick erection stretched her fleshy walls was shockingly pleasurable and terrifying at the same time, as if her body no longer belonged to her.

"– yes, yes, yes –" She mewled as she felt his hands clamp down on her buttocks, spreading them apart as if he were tearing a piece of fruit, another determined thrust of his hips sinking him completely into her hot core with their moans of pleasure.

"– fuck –"

She wasn't sure if he had ever cursed before, but then, as his hips immediately began to pound into her with loud slaps, nothing more than their panting, grunts and words insulting to God left his mouth.

"– we'll do it frequently – so that you can remember this feeling well – your husband deep inside your warmth –" He exhaled in a way from which her little cunt began to squeeze him greedily, sucking his erection inside, her lips parted wide in a loud, helpless whines of pleasure so strong that she had to close her eyes, her hands clenched on the bedding.

His gloved fingers dug into the delicate structure of her hips, imposing a more aggressive pace on her, his fat manhood bursting deep between her fleshy walls without slipping out of her, hitting again and again her sweet little spot.

"– yes – yes, I love you, I love you, I love you, please –" She cried out, feeling the tension in her silky womanhood reach its zenith, the pleasant tingling in her belly testifying to the fact that she was about to reach her peak with him and dreamed of nothing else.

He moaned low, slamming into her like mad, feeling her weeping core clench around his twitching length more and more, his manhood hard as a rock with desire.

"– G-God – oh, fuck, yes, yes, my sweetest, let me, ah –" He gasped in delight, coming deep inside her, filling the thin material overlying his manhood with his release.

Her eyes closed and her mouth parted wide as her peak came down on her like a thunderbolt, shaking her body with convulsions of delicious delight.

They both moaned and panted, rocking their hips for a moment more with the loud click of her slick cunt, his hands soothingly kneading the skin of her buttocks.

"– I will order more of this to be prepared – so that I can fulfil my marital duty every night –" He sighed with satisfaction.

She involuntarily smiled under her breath, looking up at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining outside the window reflected in his mask.

"– what kind of white marriage is this? –" She asked teasingly, rolling her hips, feeling his half-soft manhood pulsate inside her again.

"– our kind – do not fret – I will explain it to God once I am before him – I will tell him that I loved my wife too much –"

_____

Author's note: Between their wedding day and this next act, weeks actually pass during which he doesn't touch her (she mentions the days spent in his company and how she is examined every day, how he watches her naked, but apart from that nothing happens between them). He is afraid that if he tries to touch her again, he won't hold back (he had already had difficulty not taking her on their wedding night), so he tried to think of something so as not to touch her directly with his manhood. Their intimacy is an act of their desperation, the pain of knowing that their marriage will last a year or two at most. The desire to touch her and feel her is as strong in him as the desire to protect her and push her away. Their love is tragic and complete to me, and she knows what she is risking (she knew from the very beginning).

[scarlethexelove]

All Hail The Queens

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕!𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒ℕ𝕒𝕥 𝕩 ℍ𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟞𝟞𝟞

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕!𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒ℕ𝕒𝕥 (𝕐𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘), 𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 (ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨), 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥, 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕖, 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕚, 𝕊𝕦𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟, ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕜 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝔸 𝕓𝕚𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕖𝕩𝕙𝕚𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 (ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕜 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘), 𝔼𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡, ℂ𝕦𝕞 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕡, 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕪!𝕎𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒, 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪!ℕ𝕒𝕥, ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕖 (𝕀 𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕤), 𝔸 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕞, 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖.

𝔸/ℕ: ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕. 𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕕𝕞𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕒𝕡 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕔 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪. 𝕀'𝕞 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The only sound that can be heard is your bare feet padding down the hall. The floor is unusually warm but that should be what you would expect while being in the underworld. You wander down the halls looking from room to room to find your Queens. 

You had made a deal with the Queens Wanda and Natasha. If you were unable to fulfill your end of the contract you would be brought down to the underworld. Obviously you did fail at holding up your end. You thought it would be easy but what you didn’t know was that the Queens had other plans. They made it impossible for you to come out successful on the other side. When they saw you they just knew they had to have you in any way possible. Normally fair Queens bent their own rules in order to keep you but you didn’t need to know that part. 

It was difficult at first to accept the women and your new life. But as time passed you began to crave any affection from the women. They would always be glad to give you anything that you wanted, well except for letting you go. The contract you signed bound you to them for eternity, you couldn’t leave even if you wanted to. You tried at first. But now your life seems amazing. You got everything. You have a life that you could never even dream of. 

You finally spot someone in the halls. A lower level demon that serves Wanda and Natasha. “Hi um have you seen Wanda and Natasha?” You ask the girl.. woman. You aren’t quite sure what she is. She looks down, not daring to make eye contact with you. “The Queens are in the meeting room.” She mumbles before rushing away from you. No demon dares to call them anything other than the Queens. It is found to be the utmost disrespect. But now that you know where they are you make haste.

A large black door with intricate carving stands before you. The door is slightly cracked and you can hear the voices of Wanda and Natasha talking in there. Something about an important meeting with higher level demons. You're slightly leaning against the door but you accidentally put too much of your weight on it, which has it swinging open and you falling flat on your face. You let out a groan hearing as two sets of heels click towards you. The heels come into your view and you look up at the women who are now staring down at you. Natasha gives you a pointed look while Wanda’s is a bit more soft. 

Nat crouches down in front of you. “What do you think you’re doing little one?” Her tone is questioning but not too harsh. “I um, I was looking for you both. M’sorry for intruding.” They both share a glance as Wanda crouches down and reaches both of her hands out for you to take. You do so and she helps you stand up. “What would you like sweet girl? We have a very busy meeting starting soon.” You look down out of embarrassment. “Mmm wanted you.” You mumble. Wanda hooks her finger under your chin and makes you look up at her. “What do you want from us?” You let out a whine. “None of that.” Nat tells you sternly. 

“Sweet girl, tell me what you want.” You let out a sigh at Wanda’s words. “I wanted attention.” You mumble. “What was that?” Nat questions you. You know she heard you but she is always going to make you speak up. “I wanted attention and to spend time with you both.” Nat smirks at your words. “Now was that so hard.” You let a grumble of yes, but the women let it slide.

“You can sit in on our meeting under one condition.” Wanda tells you. “Yes, yes, yes I’ll do anything.” Wanda’s lips curl into a smirk. “You’re going to strap warm me sweet girl.” You swallow hard. “I-In front of ev-everyone?” You stutter. “Yes everyone. You want our attention, you have it.” You nod in understanding. Natasha holds out her hand towards you. “Take off your shorts and panties.” You shudder but do as you’re told. Slipping both of them down your legs, wetness already pulling at your core. You place your panties in Nat’s hand knowing exactly what she wanted. Your shorts are discarded somewhere within the room. 

When you turn around Wanda is sitting comfortably in her large chair. Her dress pants already slid down far enough to reveal the scarlet strap attached to her hips. You clench around nothing as you stare at the thich strap. “If you don't want your cute little butt seen by everyone you’re going to want to sit down detka.” Nat pushes you towards Wanda making you stumble slightly but you catch yourself. When you’re close enough Wanda grabs your hips and turns you to face the table. You don’t have time to react as Wanda pulls you down onto her strap. Your walls stretch to accommodate her size. A whimper leaving your lips when you’re fully sheathed onto her cock. “You’re going to watch what Mommy and Daddy do.” Wanda whispers in your ear. You nod not really hearing her as your mind is only on the thought of how full you feel. 

It doesn’t take long before the room starts to fill up. You feel every movement of Wanda’s hips as she shifts in her seat. You bit your lip desperate to keep your noises at bay. You're thankful that they can’t see you from the waist down. You squirm in her lap the longer you sit, Wanda’s nails dig into your hips. “Keep still, little one.” She whispers in your ear again. You let out a whimper but do your best to stop. 

You can’t focus on the meeting as it progresses, your mind turning into a foggy haze. You want more comfort and to hide away from the eyes that keep looking towards you. Or are they looking at Wanda you really don’t know. You lean back a bit and with the shift it has a small moan slipping out. None of the demons dare to stop because they know what the Queens would do to them if they did. 

“Mo-Mommy?” You whimper softly. “Yes sweet girl?” Wanda questions. “Wanna turn around.” Wanda smirks. “Go ahead and do it sweetheart. Mommy isn’t going to stop you.” You let out a soft whine. “But Mommy they will see.” Wanda kisses the side of your head. Your fuzzy mind relishing in the affection. “If you want it you have to do it yourself, Mommy isn’t going to stop her meeting just to tell everyone to look away.” You let out a sigh.

It takes you a few minutes before you get the courage to finally stand up. You notice a prominent wet spot of your juices covering Wanda’s lap. She doesn’t seem to mind as she opens her arms for you. You can feel their eyes burning into your back as you shift to sit back down on her lap, this time facing her. You so easily slide back down onto her strap and bury your head in her neck. Her arms wrap around you as you feel the rumbling of her chest as she begins to speak. 

You nearly fall asleep as the time passes, you don’t even know that everyone is left until you feel Wanda nudging you. “Time to get up sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy have some more work to do.” You let out a whine and hold onto her tighter. “Y/n I said you need to get up.” You shake your head before mumbling out a no. Nat gives Wanda a pointed look. “You wanted our attention that badly? Fine. You can Have it.”

Before you even have time to react before your body is tied up and suspended above the large meeting table, all your clothes are gone. Your legs are bound to your hands that are now stretched behind your back. Soft ropes caress your body, wrapping you up tightly. The ropes that cover your chest, squeeze your breast just right accentuating them more. Nat’s eyes hyper focused on how beautiful you look tied up and hanging. You’re at the mercy of both women. 

“Natty do you think our dumb little baby deserves to cum or do you think we should edge her?” Wanda asks. You feel a finger gliding across the soft skin of your thighs, running up to your ass before Wanda slaps her hand down causing you to cry out. You don’t even know when she made her way onto the table but you don’t dare to question it. She smoothes her hand over your now burning ass. “Hmm.” Nat hums contemplating what you actually deserve. “Though defiant, I want to see her cum until she’s a brainless whore.” Nat smiles as you shudder. 

Wanda leans down and whispers in your ear. “Did you hear that dumb baby? Mommy and Daddy are going to make you cum so much that you won’t even be able to think.” You let out a whimper. Though you wanted attention this wasn’t exactly what you were thinking, but you aren’t mad about it either. 

Nat gracefully steps up on the table and stands in front of you. Her fingers squeeze your chin making you look up at her; your neck in an uncomfortable position. “Such a pretty little slut for us.” You whine as her piercing green eyes stare down at you. She caresses your cheek and you nuzzle her hand. She smiles at you. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” The thought sends a wave of arousal through you. 

Without a warning Wanda has thrust the whole length of her strap back inside your waiting hole. You moan loudly at the feeling of being full again. Wanda wastes no time as she pulls back plunging her strap back into your soaked hole. “Mm fuck!” She moans. “I forgot how good it feels to have your pussy wrapped around my cock.” The joys of being the Queens of the underworld with immense power. Wanda and Natasha know how to enchant their straps to feel everything like it was a piece of their own body. 

Your moans grow louder as Wanda mercilessly pounds into you. Your mouth is hanging open. Natasha is still staring down at you. She smirks with an idea. Your pretty mouth is hanging wide open for her. You watch her as she slowly lets spit drip down from her lips as it falls into your awaiting tongue. “Swallow.” She commands and you do so. “Good girl.” She finally lets go of face and circles around to watch as Wanda fucks you. 

Wanda grips onto the rope pulling you back onto her strap. Your body is being used to get her off. Her grunts and moans fill your ears. Your walls clenching around her the closer you grow to your orgasm and Wanda knows it. “Aww does my dumb little baby want to cum.” You moan and nod your head. “Say it. Tell Mommy how much a whore you are and how you want to cum all over her cock.” Nat’s voice cuts through. It takes you time as Wanda’s relentless thrust continues to fill you. Her hips stutter as she gets close to the edge. “Mmm.. Mmm pl-please Mommy wanna cum. Wan-Want Mommy to fill me. I-I’m Mo-Mommy’s dumb whore. Please! Please! Please!” It takes everything in you to get these words out. They spew out of you as you're so desperate, you don’t know how much longer you can hold it.

“Fuck good girl. Cum all over my cock and Mommy’s going to fill you up.” Wanda grunts. She stills releasing her load into you, painting your walls white with her cum. The feeling sends you over the edge. Your walls clamp down on her length as you cum hard. Your whole body trembles from the force of your orgasm. Wanda rolls her hips into yours prolonging both of your orgasms. When she finally pulls out you can feel as the mix of your cums trickle out of your abused hole. Wanda and Nat admire it, Wanda reaches out using her finger to push it all back in. You squirm in your restraints. Both women breathe out a fuck as they watch. 

You feel a finger tracing your open thighs as Nat moves between your legs. “It’s daddy’s turn now.” She thrust forward and starts a brutal pace. “Ahhh f-fuck!” You moan out. Her grip on your hips is rough as her fingers dig into the flesh sure to leave some marks behind. Nat’s grunts mix with your moans. Your already sensitive and full cunt makes it easy for her to slide in and out. “Fuck you feel so good around Daddy.” You whine as you nod.

Nat continues her fast and rough pace. Tears roll down your cheek at the overwhelming pleasure. Through blurred vision you see Wanda come into view. She cups your cheek in her hand. “Such a good girl for us.” You nuzzle her hand. You can see how her strap glistens with your juices. You wonder why she might still have it on, but that thought is interrupted when Nat gives a particularly hard thrust right into that sweet spot deep inside of you. Your eyes roll back into your head as your body shakes. You’re not able to hold back when Nat hits that spot again. “Daddy!” You cry out as you cum hard on her cock. 

“Fucking whore cumming all over Daddy’s cock. I’ve barely even fucked you yet.” Nat grunts as her pace doesn’t stop. She is getting close you can tell. You whine as you become sensitive from your last orgasm. “Da-Daddy.” You whine but she doesn’t stop. “Daddy’s going to use you detka, let me fill you up just like Mommy did.” You whimper but nod. The pleasure now laced with pain. 

It doesn’t take much longer just a few more thrust for Nat to follow and fill your already leaking cunt with her cum. Your walls are sucking her in for more despite the pain. She presses her finger against your clit which sends you over the edge again. “A-Ahh!” You cry out. Wanda wipes the tears that cascade down your cheeks as a powerful orgasm shoots through you. Your cum spraying out of you covering Nat in your juices. Wanda’s hand on your face and her sweet whispers help ground you as your mind feels like it’s floating. “Shhh Mommy’s got you sweet girl.” 

When Nat finally stops your body goes limp. She pulls out slowly trying not to hurt you but you hiss in pain. “Shh detka you did so good for Mommy and Daddy.” In a flash you’re in Nat’s arms and she is kissing your head. She carries you down the hall into the bedroom you share with them. You're nuzzled into her chest as you feel exhausted. You don’t miss how Wanda stops a servant and tells them they need to clean the meeting room table which has you blushing in embarrassment. Which only causes Nat to chuckle at your cuteness. 

The women get you all cleaned up in a bath that they join you with. Once they are done they help you get dressed and into bed. Nearly the whole time Nat is carrying you around due to your super shaky legs. The important things they needed to get done long forgotten about as they crawl into bed on either side of you. They are the Queens after all and can cancel whatever they please. So they take the rest of the day taking care of you. 

This is the best life you could have ever hoped for. One that will last an eternity with two very beautiful women bound until the end of time.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Iron Throne

Summary: Y/N is afraid that the Iron Throne will spurn her due to her parentage, Aegon disagrees. Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, Smut, Oral (F receiveing)

Y/N and Aegon speak freely when they are alone, about the weight of her duties and what he, as her husband, might do to help shoulder them. Lately the topic has been a simpler one, Y/N’s fear of the Iron Throne and how she dreads the day she must eventually sit it.

“What of it frightens you, sweet girl?” Aegon wonders, watching her pace at the foot of their bed.

“That it will spurn me, because I am unworthy.” Y/N admits.

Aegon hums. “You are worthy. Come, I will show you.”

“Now?” Y/N chokes out.

“Yes, my love there is no one there.” Not in the middle of the night.

She hesitates, wringing her hands. “You know what I am.”

“My wife,” Aegon reminds her, “my future Queen.”

Y/N sighs, holding out a hand. Allowing him to lead her down to the empty throne room, demanding the guards provide no one entrance until they are finished.

The throne looms, like a dark omen over the room. Though Aegon does not seem to notice, walking his wife towards it and turning her to face him.

“Gods, you are beautiful.” He remarks, brushing dark hair over her shoulders. “Made to be worshipped, made to be Queen.”

Y/N smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips, “you’re one to talk.”

Aegon rests a hand against the tiny swell of the abdomen. “That’s how we got here a fifth time, hmmm?”

“It’ll be an even six, no doubt.”

“Or seven,” Aegon’s eyes come alight with mischief. “Then of course, it’d have to be eight.”

“Why stop at eight when we could have ten?”

“You’re stalling,” Aegon wags a finger at her. “Sit down for me, nice and slow.”

Y/N stops breathing all together as she takes her place on the throne.

“Good girl,” he coos.

Y/N inhales, sharply.

“Just as I said, nothing has happened.”

“I want to get off now.”

“Not until you’re comfortable.”

“Please, Aegon.” She whines.

“I will never let anything or anyone hurt you,” Aegon leans forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’m going to help you get over your fear of this silly chair.”

“How?” Y/N wonders.

“By feasting on your pretty cunt as you sit upon it, and each time you take to this throne, you will think of my mouth.”

She catches his face in her hands, “you cannot.”

“I must, my dearest love.” Aegon hushes her, “what kind of husband would I be if I allow you to walk around with such fear?”

Y/N swallows.

“Be good.” He affords her a reassuring smile before kneeling at her feet. Pressing a sweet kiss to the swell of her belly, the child has finally made their presence known. “Lift your hips for me.”

Y/N obeys, allowing him to slide her small clothes down to her ankles.

Her nightgown remains perfectly placed, with Aegon sliding up beneath her skirts. Applying gentle pressure to her knees until they part.

He groans, inhaling the familiar scent of her. “You are heavenly.” His tongue flicks over her cunt in practiced strokes.

His hair is hidden beneath her dress, nothing for her to cling to and the distance between them becomes too much to bear.

“I want your hand,” she chokes out.

“Yes, my Queen.” Aegon purrs, slightly muffled beneath the fabric. He slides one hand away from her trembling thigh to find hers, lacing their fingers together. “I live only to serve you.”

Her free hand curls around the arm rest, of its own volition. Her skin pristine and unscathed by the metal.

By then she’s relaxed enough that Aegon eases her legs farther apart, bending them up and over the arms of the chair. Slipping two fingers into her slick cunt.

“Aegon.”

He hums, in acknowledgement. Sometimes his sweet girl wishes to say his name just because she loves him. Because he’s pleasing her so well.

Lost in her passion, she scarcely notices the way her body is draped over the throne of swords with abandon. She is safe and loved…all she’s ever hoped to be.

Aegon redoubles his efforts, bringing her to peak. Covering his tongue and fingers with her slick, meeting her pearl with little kitten licks, until she squirms. Pushing against his head in protest, with one final kiss to her pulsing cunt, he pulls his mouth away. Curling his fingers against the spongy part of her inner walls as he stands, looming over her.

Her perfect lips agape, dark brows pulled together. “Fuck.”

“If you could see yourself now, my dearest love.” Aegon groans, “the smallfolk would line up at the foot of this throne, by the thousands for a chance to please you.”

“I only want you.”

Aegon’s eyes soften. He’s allowed one man to fuck her, so could hold her face in his hands and watch her features contort without distraction.

She took his cock well, for which Aegon praised her, though she could not find release until Aegon’s own fingers brushed her pearl. The same way he can cum for his ladies, but never as long or hard as he does for her.

Fucking is nice, something to do whilst he’s bored and craving excitement. Love making is more than that, something he only ever had the desire to do with her.

“How do you want me?”

“Inside me,” Y/N pants.

Aegon chuckles, “I meant to ask if you are comfortable? Or shall I bend you over the throne?”

“Over the throne,” she nods. “Or you could sit and I could ride your cock.”

Aegon mulls it over, “as much as I’d love you to sink down on me, I have no fear of this chair. You do, so up you go, turn around for me.” He withdraws his fingers, sucking them clean.

To his surprise she kneels, resting her cheek against the seat of the throne, with her arms folded over her head.

“I thought we might stand, my darling.”

“I cannot stand.” She whimpers, “I need your cock.”

“Needy thing.” Aegon kneels behind her, lifting her skirts once more and freeing himself from his sleep clothes. He slides into her with ease, he was made to be there. Leaning forward to place his arms beneath her, allowing her sweet face to rest against his skin rather than the cool metal swords. “I love you endlessly.”

She nods, “I love you.”

“You are worthy of this throne, you are worthy of the crown, and to rule.” Aegon feels her cunt flutter with the beginnings of her peak. “Y/N Targaryen, first of her name. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm.”

[lady-ashfade]

hello!

For the bakery event, please, I’d like to Vanilla + Rolls with Rhaenyra Targaryen :)

Her Protector

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Rhaenyra Targaryen x Warrior!Targ!Gn!Reader

Bakery Event is closed.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Strawberry Rolls: Fluff Headcanons

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: targ!cest, her and daemon aren’t married because reader snuck into her heart, the night aemond losses a eye, even if the reader is a woman- they still have kids together because I say so, I had no clue want to do so I ran with a idea.

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🥞 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

So imagine being close with the family and the only distant blood who still has features and hair of a true targaryen.

And not only did you look like a targaryen, you are the only far blooded person who seemed to hatch a egg when it was gifted. And, possess sword skills unlike most.

The moment Rheanyra feel for you was the day of Laena’s funeral and Aemond had lost a eye.

You never picked sides but you always stood closer to rhaenrya and her children, and Viserys.

The moment she entered the room and saw her sons bloodied, but not alone but being comforted and protected by you, she was filled with a bit of warmth. The boys cling to your side, as you stood tall with your armor still on and a sword at your hip with stayed eyes on Alicent.

Once she was in sight her sons ran to her, you let them but kept close to her- When you both shared a look she was smitten at how you looked loyal and ready to defend her and her family.

“The greens have gained vhagar,” you stood beside her while watching the green dragon fly over, and the ships of the family sailing away, “Alicent won’t forgive the loss of her sons eye, I fear your throne might be in more threat then ever.”

You began the conversation at hand, and you always knew Alicent was coming for her. She knew it to. Daemon had told her of a plan, she had also talked it through with her husband..

“Be by my side, I need you more then ever. Forgive me for us never being close, but I have come to see there is no one willing to be by my side more then you.”

“If you’ll have me, Your Grace.”

The plan of faking Laenors death was successful, and you two wed the night of in traditional Targaryen way.

Years spent by her side, sending letters and visiting houses all around the realm to sweeten them up if a war breaks out.

And in those years, you and Rhaenyra had three children of your own. Two little boys, and a daughter. She was also glad that her three sons before were treated as your own, and never picking favorites.

Jaces was taught by you in every way, how to charm your way into things, how to handle himself in battle. (And serve face)

Luke took after his mother and was trained to be the next lord of the tides, but you taught him the blade as well. And how to pull amazing pranks- and he has your humor at times.

Joffrey loves you and wishes to be exactly like you one day. He follows your around and copy’s your movements and wishes to have a dragon like yours one day.

When Alicent tries to take the throne you already had spies and a plan ready, and houses that already favored you. So the war never truly began.

Rhaenyra was made to be queen, and you as her Royal Consort.

[novaursa]

Valyrian Bride (Continuation)

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- Summary: When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon. 

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: Final Chapter

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

Cregan Stark walked with the dragon princess by his side, feeling the eyes of his men and household upon them. There was a sense of pride that welled up inside him as they entered Winterfell’s stone halls. Not pride in himself, but in the fact that this fierce, regal woman—this vision of Old Valyria—was now his betrothed. It was no small thing to command the presence of such a creature, both her and the dragon she rode. The weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders, but rather than burden him, it gave him a sense of purpose.

As they crossed the threshold into the Great Hall, the murmurs of those gathered inside came to a halt. Servants, bannermen, and even the most hardened of his household retainers stared openly. They weren’t accustomed to such grandeur, and even in a land where strength was admired, there was something otherworldly about the princess. Her silver-gold hair, the grace of her movements, and the quiet power that seemed to radiate from her drew their eyes like moths to flame.

The warmth of the hearthfire flickered against the cold stone walls, but in the presence of the dragon princess, it felt as though the heat came from her. She walked beside Cregan with an ease that belied her strength, her violet eyes scanning the hall as if she were already its lady, its queen.

Cregan couldn’t help but glance at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she moved like liquid fire, confident and unyielding. He could see the tension in the shoulders of his bannermen, the uncertainty in the eyes of the women who served the household. They were all taken aback, and Cregan couldn’t blame them. He had lived his whole life without seeing anyone like her, and he knew, without doubt, that no one here had ever stood before the true blood of Old Valyria until now.

She was a flame in the middle of a winter storm, a vivid contrast to the world of stone and snow that surrounded her.

“I trust the halls of Winterfell meet your expectations, my lady?” Cregan asked, his voice low but carrying in the stillness of the hall. He wanted to draw her into conversation, not only to ease his own nerves but to learn more of this woman who would soon be his wife.

She turned her gaze to him, a small smile curling on her lips, though it was hard to read the full depth of her thoughts. “It is as grand as the tales say, Lord Stark. A stronghold of honor and tradition.”

Her voice was steady, yet it held an edge to it, as if there was always something more behind her words. It was as though she was measuring everything, assessing him, the people around her, and the place she would soon call home.

“I trust it will serve as more than just a stronghold for you, my lady,” Cregan replied, his eyes meeting hers directly, a subtle challenge of his own. “Winterfell is now your home, and you are its future lady.”

The princess didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, Winterfell will be my home, but I have a home in the sky as well. I belong to both land and air, Lord Stark. Do not forget that.” There was a softness to her words, but it was clear. She may belong to the North by marriage, but her heart would always be tied to the skies, to her dragon.

Cregan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I doubt anyone will forget, least of all after the sight of Vaetrix in our skies," he said, and then added, more softly, "She is a magnificent creature."

The princess's expression shifted slightly, pride mingled with affection as she spoke of her dragon. “Vaetrix is the daughter of Meleys, the Red Queen herself. Her lineage is one of fire and might. She carries the blood of dragons who have seen empires rise and fall, just as I do.”

Cregan’s brows raised slightly at the mention of Meleys. He had heard of the Red Queen, the swift and powerful dragon that had once belonged to Princess Rhaenys. Her reputation was legendary. To think that Vaetrix was her offspring made the connection between the princess and her dragon even more profound. "The Red Queen," Cregan murmured, nodding thoughtfully. "Your bond with her must be strong, then. I imagine not just any rider could command such a lineage."

Her eyes gleamed in response, as if the conversation about Vaetrix sparked something deeper within her. "A dragon and their rider are bound by more than blood, Lord Stark. We share a soul, a heart. Vaetrix and I have flown together since I was a girl. She is my closest companion, my fiercest ally."

There was a tenderness in her tone now, something almost protective. It made Cregan understand, even more clearly, the depth of the bond between her and the dragon. In a way, it reminded him of the wolves of his house—loyal, fierce, and bound by an unspoken connection. But this bond was greater, stronger, and far more dangerous. He respected it, even admired it.

“Then she will be an ally to the North as well,” Cregan said, his voice filled with conviction. "As you will be."

The princess turned her eyes back to him, her gaze sharp and knowing. "The North has been promised my fire, my lord. And I keep my promises."

Her words were more than just a vow—they were a reminder of the power she wielded, the power she had been born with. Cregan nodded in response, feeling a strange comfort in that certainty. He knew, without question, that she was someone who would fight with all her strength, for her family, her dragon, and soon, for the North.

They continued walking, Cregan leading her deeper into Winterfell’s great halls, where more of his household waited in silent anticipation. Every eye was upon them as they passed, but the princess seemed unbothered by the attention, as if she had long since grown used to the weight of expectation. Cregan noticed the way people parted in her presence, not out of fear, but out of reverence. She was the embodiment of fire, and all knew they were in the presence of something greater than themselves.

As they reached the heart of Winterfell, Cregan paused, turning to face her fully. “There will be a feast tonight in your honor. A celebration of our alliance.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “It will be modest compared to what you may be accustomed to, but we take pride in what the North can offer.”

The princess’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of warmth in her eyes. “The North has already offered me more than I expected. I look forward to seeing its hospitality, Lord Stark.”

There was no mockery in her voice, no hint of the condescension he might have expected from someone raised in the splendor of court life. Instead, there was a genuine respect, a willingness to embrace the new life she was entering. Cregan nodded, feeling that strange mix of pride and anticipation once more.

As the evening drew near, Cregan knew the feast would be only the beginning. He had secured an alliance, but in the dragon princess, he had gained something far more—a partner of equal strength, whose fire would one day burn alongside his own.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with the low hum of voices as the feast unfolded, the hearths were burning high to accommodate a dragon princess in it. Platters of roasted meats and winter greens filled the long tables, while horns of ale and wine passed freely from hand to hand. The air was thick with the scent of food and the crackle of the great fires, but despite the bustle of the hall, all eyes kept drifting toward the high table, where Lord Cregan Stark and his betrothed sat in full view of his bannermen, retainers, and household.

Cregan himself sat straighter than usual, though his posture seemed almost relaxed, as if he were entirely at ease in this moment. His eyes often flicked to the princess seated beside him, watching her as she navigated the curious gazes of the Northmen with the same grace she had displayed all day. There was something undeniably striking about her here, amidst the rustic grandeur of Winterfell’s Great Hall—her silver-gold hair gleaming in the firelight, her violet eyes calm yet ever watchful.

When the time came for toasts, the hall fell into a deep silence as Cregan stood, his horn of ale in hand. The attention of every man, woman, and servant shifted to him, their lord. His voice, strong and sure, carried through the hall.

“Tonight,” he began, “we honor more than just a union between two houses. We honor the blood of dragons and the fire that has joined with the winter.” He paused, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on the princess beside him. “The daughter of Princess Rhaenyra, the only daughter of House Targaryen, has come to the North. She is now our guest, and soon, she will be my wife.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, but it was tempered by the awe that still hung in the air. Many had never seen a woman like her, let alone one of royal Valyrian descent. To them, she was more legend than flesh and blood.

Cregan raised his horn higher, his eyes never leaving hers. “To the Lady of Fire,” he said, his voice full of pride. “To the daughter of Rhaenyra!”

The hall erupted in cheers, the echo of voices bouncing off the ancient stone walls. Horns were raised, clashing together in raucous celebration as the Northmen embraced their lord’s words. And yet, even amidst the noise, Cregan saw the way his men stole glances at the princess, admiration clear in their eyes.

The princess raised her own horn in response, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she inclined her head toward Cregan. "To the North," she said, her voice soft but carrying through the hall with a clarity that commanded attention. "And to the strength of its people."

The words were simple, but they carried weight. The hall seemed to settle after that, the conversations resuming with renewed vigor as the feast carried on. Yet Cregan’s focus remained fixed on her.

As the noise of the hall filled the space around them, Cregan leaned slightly toward her, his voice low so that their conversation would remain private. “You’ve impressed them already,” he remarked, his eyes glinting with a rare hint of amusement. “It takes much to win the respect of Northmen, but I see it in their eyes.”

The princess turned to him, her violet gaze meeting his with a certain calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too. “I hadn’t expected to win their respect so soon,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “But I do not think it is me they respect so much as the idea of the alliance—of what we represent.”

Cregan considered her words, his brow furrowing slightly as he mulled them over. “Perhaps,” he allowed, “but it’s more than just an alliance. They see you, a dragon’s daughter, and they understand the power that you carry. You’re no simple marriage prize.”

Her lips curved upward, just a fraction. “Is that how you see me, Cregan Stark? A symbol of power?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low in his throat. “I see you as many things, princess. Power is just one of them.”

Her smile grew more visible now, and there was something lighter in her expression, as if she were pleased by his words, even if she did not show it openly. “And what else do you see, my lord?”

Cregan leaned in just a fraction more, his voice dropping. “I see a woman with a mind as sharp as the blade she wears. I see a rider whose bond with her dragon makes her stronger than any queen. And,” his eyes softened, the faintest glimmer of admiration in them, “I see someone who will stand beside me, not behind me.”

She studied him for a moment, as if weighing the truth of his words, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” she said, her tone firm but carrying an edge of warmth. “Because I have no intention of standing behind anyone.”

Cregan allowed himself a smile then, something rare and unguarded. It felt easy, natural in her presence, something he hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t just a symbol of fire and dragons—she was alive, filled with strength and grace in equal measure, and with each passing moment, Cregan found himself looking forward to what the future might bring with her at his side.

For the rest of the evening, Cregan’s mood remained light, his smiles more frequent than anyone could remember seeing before. The hall, filled with food, laughter, and music, felt brighter somehow, as if the fire she had brought with her from the skies had seeped into Winterfell itself. There was a warmth there that was new, a change carried on dragon’s wings.

Years later, when scholars and storytellers recalled that night, they would write about how Lord Cregan Stark, known for his stoic nature, had smiled more during that feast than any had seen before, save for two other occasions—on his wedding day, and when the first child of the Dragon Princess was born in the cold halls of Winterfell. But for now, the legend was only beginning.

As the feast wore on, Cregan turned to her again, unable to resist asking, “Do you think Vaetrix feels at ease here in the cold North? It’s far from the warmth of Dragonstone.”

She tilted her head, her silver-gold hair catching the firelight once more. “Vaetrix is not concerned with warmth or cold,” she replied. “She is her mother’s daughter, bred for strength and flight, and the North’s cold will not trouble her. Besides,” her smile grew, more playful this time, “she knows I will not be far from her.”

Cregan nodded. “She is a creature of legend, like her rider,” he said softly.

The princess turned her eyes to him, the faintest flush of warmth in her cheeks. For a moment, the fire of her Valyrian blood met the unyielding strength of the North in Cregan’s gaze, and in that shared moment, both knew their bond would be one of legend.

The fire had come to Winterfell, and it would burn for generations to come.