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venmondiese · 2 months

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THE WARM OF BOTH BODIES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

✧Rating: +18 mdni explicit

✧word count: 3.1k

✧gif credit: aegon ✧ aemond

-ˋˏsummary: Dragons are greedy, and both of your brothers have perverted desires that you take no issue on entertaining. ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, mummy kink, lactation kink, breastfeeding, threesome (f/m/m), aegond, targcest, polyamory, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (f and m receiving), aegon is the most submissive to exist, switch!aemond. ✧ this is a part from @targaryen-dynasty 's 3k celebration ! check all the other works too, and as always a pleasure to participate with my silly things and congrats to her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ✧ note: i added my own spice. it didn't say anything about aegond but i am... weak... #i tried

By no means had you known what being alone was like.

After Aemond, you were the fifth child of king Viserys to survive childhood. Daeron was your youngest by two years, and like your sister, you were dotted and cared for by your mother and father… unlike your brothers.

Your mother had a weird way to demonstrate affection to them, you always thought. With Aegon was non-existent, and Aemond had this burden to be the reliable sibling amongst them all.

When Aegon had to marry Helaena; you married Aemond. It was how the tradition dictates, and it was under your father’s wish, much to your mother’s dislike.

And just like Helaena, you recently had a daughter with Aemond, Rhaelle, who was the apple of his father’s eye. Yet, the only difference between your duty and Helaena’s is that she wasn’t the one who had to take care of Aegon. Instead, you took care of Aegon’s whims, alongside your husband’s.

Aegon was greedy, whiny and clingy. He searched you whenever he wanted, following you around like a puppy for your attention. Whereas Aemond was quiet, reserved and embarrassed, but not less greedy. He often wanted comfort, praise for his action and the reassurance that he was doing no wrong in his desires.

Both of them accepted the other, in a quiet agreement. You were a petulant person, and if you wanted, they knew this, all of it, would be over. So they shut up their differences for the sake of it.

Aegon was curled by your right side, lying on the bed of your chambers. Post coital bliss at its finest, as he was slightly sleepy, and even a bit grumpy when bothered. It had been some cold days, but the fire made it more bearable, and it gave some sense of cosiness to both. He was just resting, a bit sleepy, his head on your stomach as you read some silly book about Valyrian fashion, as his legs were pressed against your shoulder, as you slowly caressed his leg, soothing him like that.

You hear his soft yawn, as the laziness of the evening consumes you both as you are cuddled against the other for the warm. As Aegon draws slowly patterns upon the lower part of your chest, you feel the door of the chambers opening knowing it was your husband

You lower your book, caressing Aegon’s heel and calf, as you look at Aemond, walking closer to the bed as he makes a slight face at seeing Aegon here, as if he wanted you all for himself. He takes his boots quickly, moving to take off his leather jerkin.

“Hi” You say, softly, and he hums. You can see it in the slight frown on his face.

Aegon stirs a hit, not greeting Aemond as he sits on the bed, closer to you. Like a lazy cat, he yawns, and you feel his muscles stretching a bit.

“Did you tuck Rhaelle?” Aemond asks, his shoulders tensed up as he takes off his eye patch and loses up his hair. He was tired, you could see.

“Yes, she is sleeping in the nursery…” You say softly, looking at him. “What is it?” You ask, seeing how Aemond wants something, yet he doesn’t know how to say it, looking at you a bit unsure.

“Mummy” He whines softly, frowning as his tone was a bit sheepishly, sitting closer to you, by your left side.

You press your lips together, looking at him as he seems so vulnerable, and tired, for whatever reason he probably will tell you later. Aegon nuzzles your stomach, his interest piqued on Aemond’s word, because if it involves Aemond, it will involve him as well.

The unspoken words between you and Aemond are no obstacle to knowing what he wants. You know your brothers, surely, but Aemond was different. Aemond was your husband, and you knew him like the palm of your hand.

Aemond nods shyly, as if agreeing with the thought on your mind, and he scoots closer once you sit better on the bed, leaning back properly on the pillows. Your nightgown is easy to untie at the front, more so when you are lactating and need an easy way to open the dress. Rhaelle would fuss and wail her little lungs out, so your clothes were always easy to undo.

Now, if Rhaelle’s father and uncle enjoy the same, is another thing.

You undo the laces in the front of your dress, and you know how Aegon reincorporates to sit, suddenly all woken up and interested in this. The dress is pure cotton, and it is comfortable to wear. You pull the fabric out of the way, and with their gazes following your each movement, you know it is a matter of time for them to hungrily latch onto you.

Aegon curls up to your right side, whereas Aemond does the same on your left. He always preferred your left, since the blind spot faces Aegon, so he doesn’t have to bear seeing him too. Aegon is much more shameless, clinging to you and moving his hips softly against your right side.

You feel both men getting closer, and their breaths hit your nipples as they nuzzle your blossom, in hopes of sucking hungrily.

“Aegon…” you say softly as he was growing impatient, moving a bit as he pressed his face closer to your breast, restless and eager.

Aemond is never restless; he stayed still as he loved, caring. He always pressed faint kisses, around your tits, before suckling calmly. His left arm always found its way to wrap your waist, keeping you close to him as he delighted himself with soothing milk.

Instead, Aegon immediately latched onto your breast, suckling and trying to get all the milk he could, eagerly as he always seemed relentless, always craving more and more. He’d watch you with bright, purple eyes as he craved for your attention.

You comb their hair with your fingers, kiss the top of their heads and rub their back. They were your older brothers, but behaved like hungry little kittens that needed their milk.

Always was a bit strange, as they weren’t always amicable. It took a long time, for Aemond, at least, to join in. It was mainly due to the fact that Aegon rarely left you alone, even if you were Aemond’s wife. Little by little, they learned how to warm up to each other, and sometimes to your request, they’ll kiss.

The suckling sounds are loud, almost obscene, as you feel both swallow each drop from your leaking milk. Aemond had probably been tasting it since the end of your pregnancy, yet it didn’t tire him at all. And Aegon? He was always hungry, and he suckled and his tongue lapped your breast, milking more and more.

You can feel how they swallow the milk, both eager. Aemond has a hand around your waist, as Aegon has his hand around your breast and squeezes it slightly as if to have more.

“Mummy” Aegon murmurs, pulling back as he looks at you, and he has wide purple eyes “are we being good?”

The reassurance is a must, you realise with time. “Yes, baby. You both are my good boys” you murmur, caressing the top of their head “Both of you, my best boys…”

They delight themselves in the praise; you hear Aemond’s faint moans, as you feel his body at ease. You caress the back of his head, feeling the loose hairs on your fingers.

It always made you feel the arousal settle in the lower part of your belly, and feeling so turned on you had to press your thighs together a bit. Aemond loved when your breast grew larger, and full of milk. Aegon was not behind that feeling, as he was the one to propose the idea to ‘help you with the heaviness of them’.

Aegon gulps on the milk like a glutton, and his eyes are closed in the delight of nursing. You feel his cock hardening little by little by your side. Aemond instead, looks at you. His eye is deep and intense, watching your face as his mouth is still working on your nipple, his tongue pressing against the nub getting more milk. His hand on your waist loosens up slightly, slowly moving down all the way to your stomach, and little by little, makes its way to your centre.

Aegon is oblivious to that, as he suckles and slurps loudly, with not a care for the world, nipping and licking all of the sweet milk that your breast can produce. He whines a bit, scooping closer and closer as he tries to get more and more.

“Doing such a good job for mummy, darlings…” You say to both, as you feel Aemond’s hand almost innocently brushing against your womanhood. “So good…” You murmur dreamily, sighing as Aegon nuzzles his face closer to your right breast, his nose brushing the skin as his mouth slightly presses a bit harder, eager for more.

They could feel you moving under their touch, almost possessive as they fed from you, keeping you right there at their mercy. The sound of your praise stirred something in both of them, yearning more of your affections, more of mummy’s affections.

Aemond is the first one to pull away from your breast, beginning to shift as his body moves higher, his mouth kissing all the way up to kiss you in the lips. You hum, feeling the taste of your own milk on his lips.

“Mummy” Aegon protests, not wanting to be left out as always, as he pulls away from your breast, an obscene sound from it as he moves his head to nuzzle your cheek, kissing lazily to keep on worshipping your body.

Aware of how his hand was still between your legs, Aemond pressed it harder against your core, rubbing more firmly. As if wanting to draw more sounds from you, Aegon moves his hand to grope softly, carefully your breast, not wanting to leave a part from you unattended.

“You are such good boys for me, always wanting to please me, hm?” You say, panting a bit from how good your husband's hands on your pussy feels.

“Yes mummy” Aemond murmurs, and Aegon nods in agreement.

It’s as if Aemond knows your thoughts, because he turns to watch Aegon, moving slightly his other hand to place it on the back of his neck, pulling Aegon closer to share a slow, yet passionate kiss between both of them.

They could feel the milky taste in the other’s mouth, and you could see how their tongues crashed against each other, making it as sloppy as possible as they made out for quite some time, as Aemond’s fingers tried to pry into your clit and pussy.

You know that at the beginning it was more to put on a show for you, for your delight that they agreed to do as well. If they enjoyed it, you could never know. But now it’s different, watching how they hungrily seek each other’s mouth, and if one tries to pull away, the other is quick to lean, following their mouth to keep on kissing.

It’s hot, to say the least, and it makes wonders for your arousal to see both of them kiss like this. You think, for a moment, if you could maybe propose the idea for them to follow this lust for each other further. Maybe for another occasion.

As Aemond’s lips move to kiss Aegon’s neck, you see how your baby seems so aroused, you could always see it clearly with Aegon, how his cheeks turned pinker and he had that blissful expression. You feel Aemond’s hand moving away from your core, and before you could ask anything, they both pulled away from each other.

Aemond probably murmured something in Aegon's ear, because they shared a look before the eldest slowly turned to you.

“Mummy, can we please you…? We wanna taste your pussy… please…” he asked, and you see how Aemond looks at you, awaiting your answer, as his hand caresses your thigh softly.

You caress Aegon’s thigh softly, as they both almost look at you with puppy eyes.

“Yes, my darlings. Please mummy with your mouths”

It does not take them long to accommodate between your legs, Aemond presses one hand to your left leg, keeping it still. Aegon does not bother to do the same for your left thigh, as he has other priorities.

You feel Aegon’s mouth first, his tongue tracing along her slit. Aemond moves his hand to the back of Aegon’s head, pushing his mouth further into your cunt, as the eldest savours your wetness. And at the sound of your moans, he doubles his efforts.

Then it’s Aegon who pulls your husband’s face down to join his mouth, both of them licking and sucking your wet cunt. You can see both of them, their cheeks pressed together as they pleasure you with their mouths at the same time, licking and slurping in unison.

“Fuck, f-fuck, gods…” you moan, your hips moving closer, grinding against his tongues, grabbing Aegon’s hair, short and easy to grab (unlike Aemond’s)

Aegon seems delighted at that, and you feel his tongue darting out to suck your clit eagerly, and you feel your jaw moving at the motion, and he whimpers with need. Aemond is, as always, focused as he slurps and sucks on her entrance, obscene sounds fill the room as his expert mouth works on you.

They both clearly relish both the taste and the privilege of having their faces buried between your thighs, moving to please you, and their tongues crashing together as they do so.

“Mummy, you taste so good” you don’t even recognise the sound, the sound muffled by the little space between his mouth and your folds.

“Fuck, so good…” the other agrees, and your legs tremble, as your hips try to get more and more of their wicked tongues.

Aegon is the one whining, you know that. As you pull his hair, you see his needy eyes looking at you. You press your heel on his back, as if pushing him closer to your cunt. He moans, closing his eyes as he goes back to feasting on your pussy.

Aemond moved to your clit now, and you can see how the sapphire glints on the dim lights. You imagine that both of their cocks are rock hard, throbbing impatiently.

Maybe it’s Aegon or Aemond (maybe both) the one who drools, while the muffled moans still come and go. You, on your side, are a mess, as you try to keep both of them close to you, feeling Aemond’s hand caressing your breast. Your pussy can’t take longer, and your hips grind against both of their faces, as you roll your eyes back and lean your head back in the pillows, as you feel your orgasm so close.

“Fuck, babies, so good for mummy, fuck…” you mean it, moaning loudly as you feel them whimper.

“Wanna make you cum so hard, mummy…” Aegon’s raspy voice is a bit clearer, as you clench on his hair.

“Hmmmm” Aemond hums, not separating one bit from your cunt.

As you start cumming, both of them press their mouth against your pussy, wanting to taste your cum as they try to be the one to get more. You are cumming hard, and their greedy tongues only fuel your orgasm even more.

Feeling your pussy quivering and pulsing around their tongues it's probably one of their favourite things, along with the rest of you. The feeling of your creamy juices made them greedy, and they share it all

Their faces are shiny with your arousal, and even when you retreat, they lick their lips as if wanting more. You can’t exactly see in the faces of your brother’s what they are thinking, but you feel tired to think about anything but the great orgasm you just had.

You are not exactly sure who started the kiss, but it's messy and sloppy, as you see their tongues sharing the last tastes of your cum, as their hands clenched to the other to keep him close, and keep on the passionate kiss.

It’s Aemond who groans, Aegon pressing his body to his, almost humping his cock to any part of your husband’s skin, who holds him close, one hand on his jaw and the other moving down to the eldest hips.

You move a bit, sitting better on the bed, yet your back still leans on the pillows, body relaxed as you accommodate to watch them devour each other as one does sit to watch men fighting in a tourney. But both of them were involved in different practices, which was a show for you to see and most importantly- enjoy.

You can see their tongues pressing together, their heads moving to not break the sloppy kiss, messy and passionate. They surely are doing this out of passion and lust, rather than rational thought, but you are not complaining.

Aegon’s hand comes to caress the firm abdomen of Aemond, like you enjoy doing. Your husband is a creature of many sides, and he can be as submissive as he can be dominant. He moves the hand on Aegon’s hip to grip his short hair, and keeps him in place to keep on kissing him.

“Aem… mummy” Aegon’s little whines come in a low tone, and a bit slurred, as Aemond does not give his mouth a break.

It takes you a while to notice that Aegon is using his hand to stroke Aemond’s cock, using the side of his thigh to hump and grind his own cock. He was needy, but he was too much of a needy baby to fight for dominance. Aegon relished on being submissive, either with you, or Aemond.

Aemond breaks their kiss, his head falling back to pant, groaning slightly as Aegon uses his hand on his cock. You know Aegon is the most lustful creature since he discovered pleasure, and he was always good with his hands.

“Mummy…” Aegon whines, wanting you to help him with his cock, and you move on your knees closer to where they were having this exchange of pleasure, because both of them wanted to cum very badly.

Your hands on Aegon’s cock make him go weak, whimpering as he leans closer to Aemond, moving his lips down on his body, his abdomen and the tip of his cock.

“Good boys, hm? You both are such good boys for mummy, pleasuring yourselves…” You say, that sweet tone of yours makes Aemond’s arousal explode.

“Fuck-” Aemond mutters, groaning and whimpering as he cums one of his hands moving to grip your shoulder, and as your hands stroke the eldest’s cock, your hand over stimulating movements on his cockhead, as if trying to replicate his tongue movements on Aemond’s tip.

Aegon is greedy, and he whimpers, still pleasuring Aemond, his hips bucking on your hand, as his own orgasm hits hard. Aemond is the one holding him, as your baby’s orgasm hits him hard, trying not to fall on the bed, panting loudly and whimpering.

He makes a little sound when you kiss him, wanting to taste Aemond’s cum on his tongue. It was delightful, and you feel his body melting on your touch. You feel how your other brother moves to caress the back of your head, nuzzling your shoulder and kissing it tenderly.

You could get used to this new dynamic, surely.

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mistercrowbar · 1 year

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Seriously who put the little guy with a tacky jerkin and a flute in charge?

This was something I encountered in Early Access so I don’t know if it’s the same in release, but I accidentally had Lae’zel as the active character when freeing Shadowheart aboard the nautiloid and Shart just abruptly refused to join because Lae’zel wasn’t the leader, then ran away and couldn’t be recruited. It’s a good thing she ran because honestly I think a blow to Lae’zel’s ego like that could only be repaid with death lmao

Tried to see how quickly I could add some simple tones for this one, not sure if I’ll keep it up but it was worth it for Lae’zel in the first panel. Gotta love a terrifying woman covered in other creatures’ blood.

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #lae’zel #laezel #shadowheart #tav #crowbart #doodle comic #sketch #c:aldiirn

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peachessndreamss · 24 days

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Wolfswood

Summery : Cregan receives an injury while out hunting, his wife cares for him

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Cannon typical injury and first aid/wound care, cannon typical hunting

Word count : 4k

A/N : Cregan Stark I love yooou. Also, apologies in advance if this is the most boring thing you've ever read.

Winter had arrived with devastating speed and brutality in the North. The first heavy snowfall had destroyed the last remaining crops left out in the fields and the woodpiles stacked as high as two men and just as wide had looked like enough to see them through two winters but soon began to deplete at an alarming rate.

And when a great boar had been sighted at the edge of the Wolfswood, Lord Cregan Stark quickly called the men of his house to a hunt, knowing it was better to find the creature now and make use of it rather than let it be starved by the winter.

They had set out in the pre-dawn, 10 men of House Stark, wrapped in layers of leather, wool and fur, mounted on the most surefooted horses the Winterfell stables had to offer. Lord Stark rode at the front of the group, his steward and close friend Martyn Snow riding beside him, the two of them talking as they disappeared from sight.

Once in the Wolfswood Lord Stark had led the hunt, first on horseback as they tracked the creature deeper into the cover of the dense wood and then on foot, when the terrain had become too dangerous for the horses and the boar needed to be harried out of its hiding place.

Cregan had been moving slowly north, stepping over tangles of brambles and avoiding tree roots thicker than his thighs, the men of the group formed a large crescent shape as they moved slowly, hopefully driving the animal toward a clearing. One of the men at the end of the line gave a sharp whistle to indicate the group should stop, instinctively his head moved toward the sound and in that split second of distraction Cregan missed the rustling of dead leaves and the heavy breathing of an animal charging.

The great tusk of the boar gored his left thigh. Cutting deeply through the skin to the muscle beneath, bright red blood immediately falling to the leaves at his feet. The power of the blow from the animal knocked him off his feet and sent him slamming into the cold ground, the back of his head knocking hard against a tree root. The metallic stink of blood filled his nose as shouts went up from the men of the household, they abandoned the hunt and gathered around their injured lord.

“Get the beast,” was all he managed to say before the wintery sunlight faded from his view and he wasn't aware of pain or cold anymore.

Lady Stark watched the hunting party return from the covered walkway between the Great Keep and the Armory. She expected to see Cregan leading the party, a triumphant smile on his cold reddened face with the great beast slung over the back of his stallion.

Instead it was Cregan's steward, Martyn, who galloped in at the front of the procession, his horse wet with sweat, its nostrils flaring as it snorted. The animals rider didn’t look much better, the steward’s face was fearful and the same colour as the bark of the weirwood tree, his pale brown leather jerkin was darkened with blood.

“My lady,” he called when he saw her watching, “Lord Stark’s been hur’, cut by the boar. Please send for the maester,”

His words caused a lump of ice to form in her stomach, chilling her from her heart outward. There was always a risk when the men went hunting, and more often than not her husband returned home with some small injury or another but this had to have been serious. As she dashed into the Great Keep she caught sight of a wagon being drawn by two great horses, on the bed of the wagon a tangle of fur and blood, she fought a wave of nausea at the sight and ducked inside the keep.

Her feet were light and silent as she reached the maester’s chambers, not bothering to knock on the old man’s door she threw it open with a crash.

The maester was startled by her sudden interruption, jumping up from his stool at the desk with surprising speed and agility for a man who was nearing 70. He opened his mouth, ready to scold whoever had so rudely burst into his rooms, but his words died on his lips.

“Lord Stark’s been injured in the hunt,” she said, praying her voice didn't waver and give away the fear that was gripping her throat like a claw.

“Injured how?” The maester replied, moving toward the large wooden sideboard that dominated the room. On the shelves were jars, bottles and boxes containing every substance needed by a maester, and probably a few they didn’t need as well.

“Gored, I don't know where, they've just arrived back, please come now,” she said firmly, not willing to keep Cregan waiting.

The maester nodded and gathered his heavy leather case from the side, the bag was filled with sharp tools and simple herbs and mixtures for most every day healing. He followed behind Lady Stark as she led them to the undercroft of the Great Keep, where there was a great deal of noise and disruption.

The undercroft was a dark, cool, enclosed space usually used for storage, most days it would only see one or two visitors but now it was alive as men lit torches around the walls while others heaved Cregan’s limp form onto the huge oak table that sat in the centre of the space. They stripped him out of his blood soaked outer clothes and left him lying in his linen shirt and woollen trousers.

The left leg of his trousers was ripped open at the mid thigh, revealing a 5 inch gash, skin and muscle had been torn apart and glistened dark red. A tourniquet above the wound had stopped most of the bleeding but his face was ghostly pale and his lips an unhealthy shade of blue.

Lady Stark moved slowly toward the head of the table where Cregan’s closed eyes made him look almost peaceful, the maester went straight to the wound and began cutting away at his trousers.

“Has he been talking?” he asked as he began to inspect the wound more closely.

“A little, but he was unconscious for a minute or so after it happened,” the steward replied, standing by Cregran’s right hip, wringing his hands together.

“Hello my love,” Lady Stark said softly, brushing her hand over his forehead, willing herself not to fall to her knees and weep when she felt how cold his skin was.

His grey eyes fluttered open and blinked slowly, trying to bring his wife’s face into focus, the world around him seemed to shift violently, left and right, up and down but her warm hand on top of his head held him steady.

“Now, what have you been up to?” she asked softly, as if addressing one of their children.

Cregan’s whole left leg throbbed painfully and his stomach roiled with nausea, he swallowed once, finding his mouth and throat dry.

“It's barely a scratch,” he croaked. Lady Stark gave a small huff that might have been out of amusement and stroked her fingers over the crown of his head.

“‘Tis a dreadful looking scratch,” she replied, “still, the maester’s here now,”.

Cregan hissed with the pain as the maester applied a green tinged ointment to the wound. Sweat broke out all over his body and he felt his hands start to tremble.

“Did they get the beast?” Cregan asked, once the initial wave of pain had passed and faded back into a constant throb.

Lady Stark glanced at Martyn who gave a small nod of his head.

“Of course, and you shall have the beast's head for your chambers if you want”.

He gave what appeared to be a weak nod before closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. Cregan had known pain before but dislocated shoulders, broken bones and the sharp bite of Valyrian steel were nothing compared to this.

At his thigh the maester had soaked a small piece of linen in a clear, strong smelling substance that he placed over the wound before tightly wrapping a clean bandage before removing the tourniquet tied high up his thigh. As the blood was allowed to flow back into the lower leg the colour returned to the skin but there were no signs of excessive bleeding at the wound. The maeester turned his attention to Lady Stark.

“It’s as clean a cut as we can expect from a tusk, most importantly there’s no sign of dirt within, I have great faith that it will heal well,” the maester explained, wiping his hands on a clean piece of linen that was tucked into the belt at his waist.

“I'll go to my rooms now and make a poultice to fight infection and in the meantime he can be moved to his rooms to ensure he's comfortable,” he added.

With a small nod from Lady Stark the men still standing around the room went into action, they brought a stretcher and carefully moved Cregan from the table to the stretcher. He was then carried slowly through the Keep and up to his rooms. The masters chambers were the largest but the least used within the Great Keep, Cregan and his wife favoured the smaller but warmer Lady’s chambers, especially as they were the closest rooms to the children’s rooms.

Once he was settled on the bed she sent for two bowls of water and a cloth before stripping him of the last remaining pieces of clothing. Unable to lift him from the bed to get his shirt over his head she cut the fabric straight up the middle with a small knife, pushing the two halves over his chest and cutting the sleeves apart to expose his arms. She also had to cut away what was left of his trousers, finding some of the material stuck to his skin with blood.

Once he was as bare as the day he’d been born she soaked the cloth in warm water and set about washing him. Somehow the blood had managed to get up to his neck and down to the bottom of his left foot. She started at his neck, watching as droplets of reddened water ran down onto his chest and collected in the dark mess of curls that started at his collar bone, completely covered his chest and then funnelled into a thick strip that ran all the way down his stomach to the apex of his thighs.

“I swear you're more beast than man sometimes,” she said softly as she dabbed at his chest, lifting the blood from his skin and hair.

“It's the wolf in me,” he replied softly.

Her head snapped towards his face, she’d had no idea he was awake and seeing his soft gaze on her face brought a wave of emotion flooding through her body. The usual surge of love she felt whenever she looked at him, intense relief at seeing his cheeks a healthy flushed colour after how deathly pale he’d looked before and bubbling anger brought on by the extreme fear that still sat in her stomach like a block of ice.

“The wolf couldn't smell the boar sneaking up on you?” She asked as she felt tears burn her eyes. Cregan offered her a small, reassuring smile.

“The wolf is more,” he paused a second while he thought, “passive...”.

Unable to resist him, Lady Stark felt herself smiling and the two of them shared a laugh before she continued to wash him, revealing the pale skin under the dark curls and dried blood.

“You're lucky it wasn’t more serious,” she said softly as she wrung the red water out of the cloth into a mostly empty bowl before dipping the cloth back into clean water, “if it’d caught on the inside of your leg you'd have been dead before they got you home,” she added, an icy edge to her voice as the fear that had gripped her throat now throbbed behind her eyes.

“But I wasn't,” he placated gently, reaching out and taking hold of her wrist as she dabbed at his stomach.

“I'm fine,” he added when he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes and the angry wobble of her bottom lip.

She snatched the hand from his, throwing the cloth into the bowl of clean water at her feet. The water splashed up, catching the skirt of her dress.

“And what if you weren't? What if you weren’t fine? Your son is barely 9 months old Cregan, do you expect me to hold the entire North until he comes of age? Fighting off every grasping lord from The Wall to Dorne trying to get to him and steal his birthright?” An angry tear tracked down her cheek.

“I cannot be regent, Cregan, I cannot be here without you,”.

He reached out again and took hold of her balled first at the wrist, bringing her hand towards his face, pressing a soft kiss to her curled fingers.

“And nor will you be,” he said softly, his lips still touching her fingers, “you and I are going to grow very old together, so old they write songs about us when we're all but turned to dust,”.

She gave a small, watery laugh through her tears and pulled her hand out of his again.

“Now you're just placating me,” she said, reaching into the bowl for the cloth and ringing it out.

“Of course I am,” he replied with a smile, stretching his right arm up and settling it behind his head, the bend in his arm causing his muscle to flex and bulge under his skin. Were it not for the bandage around his leg he would have looked as if he was just relaxing for the evening.

“I understand well that my most important duty is keeping you happy,”.

Lady Stark scoffed at him and returned to the gentle washing of his stomach. A small smile tugging up the corners of his lips as he watched her tending to him so carefully. He'd been in a fair few scrapes before this one and was always happy to be tended to by his wife, the mixture of her gentle hand and sharp words always made him feel better.

“Am I permitted to say how I'm enjoying your undivided attention?” He asked.

“You may not say it” she replied, flicking her eyes to his face and catching him grinning at her.

“I shall just think it then,”.

They both fell into a tense silence as her cloth inched closer to the bandaged wound. The maester had said he would come by later that day to stitch the wound closed once it had time to dry and he could be certain there was no rot. Sweat broke out across his body as her gentle touch began to feel like needles piercing his skin, he kept his jaw firmly shut, unwilling to let a single sound of pain pass his lips.

“Would you take something for the pain?” She asked, not needing to hear him cry out to know he was in great discomfort, she wrang the cloth out again wetted it with clean water again.

“I would rather keep my wits,” he replied, his voice strained.

“Then perhaps a little when we’re finished and you can rest?” She pressed. She knew he disliked the effects of milk of the poppy but seeing him in such pain made her heart ache.

“Perhaps,” he nodded before pressing his lips tightly closed, redoubling his efforts to stay silent.

She finished his bed bath at his left foot, cleaning the dried blood from the bottom of his toes and the ball of his foot. And all the pain that had passed before paled in comparison to the agony he felt as her hands gently tended the most ticklish part of his body. He fought with every ounce of willpower to stay still and not curl his toes and kick his foot out of her hands.

Once finished she rung the cloth out one final time before standing and carrying the two bowls of water across the room and setting them aside to be cleared away later.

“Will you sleep for a while? She asked him, moving back toward him and running her hand over his forehead before drawing a soft woollen blanket over his nakedness.

Cregan nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep until the dawn of the summer.

“Alright, will you take a little milk of the poppy?” she asked.

He nodded again, opening one of his eyes to peek at her face.

“And a kiss to sweeten it?” He asked, letting the corners of his lips quirk up just a touch.

She laughed softly, taking the small bottle of white milky liquid from the table beside their bed. She unstopped it and helped him lift his head off the pillow, she held the bottle to his lips while he took a small swallow before dropping his head back onto the pillow with his eyes closed.

“And to make it sweet,” she said, bending and pressing her lips to his.

As she stood he opened his eyes again although she could already see he was fighting the effects of the milk of the poppy.

“Kiss the babies for me as well?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, stroking his forehead again and watching his eyes close as he finally gave in and allowed himself to be dragged into a dreamless sleep.

She watched him for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the steady ride and fall of his broad chest. In sleep he always appeared to be younger, his features softened as sleep took away the worries and the duties he carried on his shoulders every day.

Once she was happy he would sleep for a while and there was nothing else she could do for him, Lady Stark went in search of Martyn the steward, she knew he would be worried and was waiting for news of his lord and friend.

She found him outside the stables, running a brush over Cregan’s stallion.

“Is he alright?” Martyn asked as she approached him. There was a panicked edge to his voice and his face betrayed his worries.

“He'll be fine,” she soothed with a nod, “he's made of strong stuff,” she added as she placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“I'm sorry he was hurt, my lady,” he said, already looking lighter knowing Cregan was alright.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, he's a man grown and it's his own fault if he doesn't hear a boar sneaking up on him,” she said, making her voice playful and teasing.

“I'll pray for him,” the steward said, returning to brushing the huge grey horse that stood patiently in front of him.

“Thank you, I know he'll appreciate that,”.

She stayed talking to the steward a little longer, the two of them discussing how to make the best of the creature that’d been killed that morning. The sky was quickly darkening and the air turning colder by the minute, although no new snow had fallen that day there was a crisp smell of it on the air and dark, heavy clouds covered the sky, threatening a heavy snowfall that night.

She left Martyn to his final tasks for the day and returned to The Great Keep, she went first to the nursery to look in on their children. The eldest, Aly, was playing on the floor with her nurse, the two of them racing carved wooden animals across the floor. She paid no attention to her mother when she entered the room, too caught up in her game, while their son slept in his cradle.

She lifted the boy from his crib and carried him to a chair beside the fire where she sat, focusing on nothing other than the small sound of his breathing and the tiny movements as his chest expanded and contracted with every breath.

After a few minutes Aly got up from her spot on the carpet, her wooden horse still clutched tightly in her small hand as she walked toward her mother.

“Where's papa?” She asked, coming to stand beside the chair, reaching out her own empty hand to take her mothers.

“Resting, the men went hunting this morning, do you remember?”.

“Will he put me to bed?” Aly asked, letting the toy horse drop from her hand with a small thud.

“Not tonight, I can do it tonight,” Lady Stark replied.

The girl sighed heavily, like she'd received some truly dreadful news, her small shoulders slumping.

“But Papa tells the best bedtime stories,”.

“I know he does, and I’m sure he’ll have a very special one for you tomorrow night,”.

After another heavy sigh Aly climbed up into the chair with her mother and younger brother, curling into Lady Starks chest and closing her eyes. The girl found a loose thread on the bodice of her mothers dress and begin to twist it around her finger, in a few minutes she too has slipped off to sleep.

The warm weight of her children soothed the Lady’s fractured nerves, this wasn't the first time her husband had returned home injured, his body was a tapestry of scars, each one she'd lovingly touched and kissed in turn, learning his scars as closely as a traveller learns a map.

When she heard the first spatterings of wet snow from the nursery window Lady Stark decided it was time for her to look in on her patient. Calling the nurse over and letting the young woman take the sleeping girl from her lap.

“Let her sleep a few more minutes, then wake her or she’ll never sleep tonight,” Lady Stark instructed as she stood and carried her small son back to his crib.

“And I'll be back to feed this one once I've looked in on Lord Stark,” she added, lowering him into the cradle and watching as he settled.

The nurse nodded and smiled softly as she lowered Aly onto her day bed, covering the girl with a soft embroidered blanket.

Cregan didn’t stir when the heavy oak doors of his chambers were opened and his lady wife stepped inside, she paused, watching him for a few moments to see that his condition was unchanged, the only difference was that he’d thrown the blanket off his body and was now lying naked, his whole body exposed to the cool air. Moving toward him she noticed his breathing was still easy and his cheeks were a healthy colour. She touched the back of her hand to his cheek and then his forehead.

At her touch his eyes flicked open and he blinked slowly as the world around him came into focus. He made a small sound of approval that rumbled up deep from his chest as his eyes focused on his wife.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly.

“Better for seeing you,” he replied, his voice gravelly.

“You're a dreadful flirt Cregen,” she replied with a smile, knowing his ability to flirt was a far better indication he was on the mend than anything else would be.

“Come lie with me,” he said, choosing to ignore his wife's chastisement.

“Only for a few minutes,” she replied, moving to the other side of the bed and climbing on it, settling herself beside him and placing her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and encouraged her to roll onto her side, tightening her body to his in a familiar and comfortable way and she sighed contentedly. Her hand rested on his chest, her fingers pushing and playing with the dark curls of hair. Cregan turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, feeling the warmth of her body sink into his own flesh and bones.

“I should ban you from future hunts,” she said, her voice muffled by having her face squashed on his shoulder, “make you take an oath never to put yourself in such danger again,”

“Even for you, I could not swear such an oath,” he replied, kissing her forehead again and keeping his lips pressed to her skin, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent from her hair.

The two lay in silence for several minutes, Lady Stark listening to the steady and deep drum beat of his heart, the thumping sound reminding her that he was still alive, injured but alive and home with her and in their private moment it was easy for her to believe that was the only thing that mattered in all the known world.

“But I can swear, it will only be death that keeps me from you,”.

#cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x female reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfiction #tom taylor #fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #house stark #cregan #cregan fanfic #cregan x oc #cregan x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark headcanons

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wtfsteveharrington · 6 months

Text

after midnight | carmen berzatto x reader

summary: chicago is expensive, okay? so you pick up a job outside of the restaurant which just so happens to involve your camera. everything's fine until richie stumbles upon the website and shares it with camry.

contents: perv!carmy, male & female masturbation, sex toys, dirty talk, cam sex, slight dub-con kinda if you look for it. carmy’s honestly a wreck. mentions of unprotected sex, choking, oral sex, overstimulation. please note!! no formal intercourse takes place yet but it's cuming coming but ya girl wants a slow burn

reader description: she/her pronouns, there is semi a hair scene but i use no real descriptors so still vague!

word count: basically 3.9k

author notes: first fic in a year baby and boy did i lose the plot!! filth!! also i sure love saying fuck in this so enjoy that

part two

★–————————–

Richie’s voice is annoying. It echos, ricochets off the walls, and can’t be contained by even the highest quality of sound proofing. Which is why, at 8 in the morning, Carmen’s already considering having to take Excedrin as Richie bursts through the doors.

“Carmy, Cousin, you’re never gonna fuckin’ believe what I found last night.” He’s out of breath after running in, fumbling around with his phone in a rush to pull something up. He’d spent all night contemplating if he texted Carmen or waited to show him in person. Ultimately the urge to see his reaction won but that didn’t stop Richie from waking up before his alarm out of excitement. “Listen, we’re both grown ass men so I’m gonna say it -“ he’s glancing around to make sure they’re alone, “- So I’m laying there and jerkin’ my shit, right?”

Carmen’s wincing, pinching the bridge of his nose and contemplating every decision that brought him back to Chicago.

“Dude, fuck off. I don’t wanna hear -“ Richie tsks, cutting him off.

“Nah, shut the fuck up because you wanna hear this. In fact, you’re gonna wanna fall to your knees and kiss my shoes and praise my ass as a thank you for finding this.”

He’s holding up his phone, an iPhone 8 he refuses to upgrade, and illuminated on the screen is a video of you. You, on your knees, in lingerie. You, with your fingers dragging down your chest, across the lace that covers your breasts. Your head falls back as you run your thumbs across your nipples. A sound so angelic coming from your lips that Carmen starts to understand why people spend so much time at Church. He’s convinced you’re hand carved by God, or Buddha, or whatever might be up there.

Carmy’s instantly feeling a rush of heat across his chest and his cheeks as he takes the sight of you in. It feels wrong but at the same time the coiling in his stomach feels so good he can’t look away quite yet. “Why the…” He’s cut off by a whine coming from Richie’s speaker as you keep teasing yourself. His brain is frying for a second as he tries to focus on finishing his sentence. “How the hell did you find this?”

“Listen, sometimes I get bored on the same ole sites, okay? Clicked an ad to see who was live and ended up here. Now I stopped watching, obviously, out of respect but this? I’ve known you long enough to know when you gotta thing for someone and you’re not gonna act on it. Also, I caught you staring at her ass as she filled the deep freeze the other night. Kinda gave it away. So this is the way you can still get some pussy while being a fuckin’ pussy.” Richie’s punching the air, clearly proud of himself.

Carmy’s smacking him upside the head, his body now torn between lust and annoyance. “Watch your mouth, alright? That is so fucked, Richie. Put that shit anyway and I better not see you tell a single other person this exists.”

And yeah, he took note of your screen name before he walked away. Don’t judge him.

———★–————————–

Look - There have been a lot of times in his life where Carmen hasn’t been proud of himself. But settling back into bed, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down to rest under his balls? Yeah, he’s not proud to say the least. After seeing even just the glimpse of you this morning though it’s been all he could think about. The. Whole. Fucking. Day. He watched out of the corner of his eye while you bent over the line to scrub down the wall behind your station tonight. Burning to memory the way your ass just slightly jiggled from the aggressive motion of wiping down the surface. A soft grunt coming from you as you reach for something just a little too high. He finally snapped out of it when the smell of the chemicals he sprayed down on his own surface got a little too strong and refocused.

He wasn’t proud when he ran to the restroom and contemplated just jacking off over the toilet to get some relief. You were clouding his brain, only the rush of the evening giving him some small relief.

You seemed vocal in the small clip he saw. He’s wondering if you would have asked him to cum for you. Would you think it’s a waste that he’s cumming down the drain instead of covering your ass with it? Filling your mouth and making you swallow every drop around him? Or, Jesus Christ, would you wrap your legs around his waist and beg him not to pull out?

So yeah. Carmy’s had quite the fucking day to say the least.

He’s finally home and running straight to bed. His stuff dropped in a heap by the front door and was easily forgotten. Throwing himself back onto the mattress after ripping off his shirt and his pants. Left just groaning into the empty room, his cock twitching at the thought of you. Your page has been sitting on an Incognito tab all day and it’s finally, finally being loaded up. This feels like an invasion of privacy in a way but Carmen can’t quite think logically with how heavy his balls feel and how painfully hard he is. There’s not much time to spare so he clicks the first video you’ve uploaded that he can.

And there you are.

Sitting in the middle of a big bed and rubbing your hands along your thighs, smiling at the camera. His heart is twitching, cock is twitching, everything is fucking twitching. And you’re just sitting there, licking your lips and sliding your hands under the thin material of some weird lace one piece he wants to rip off.

“Hi there, Pretty Boy.” Your voice is music to his ears and Carmy can’t take it any longer. His fist is wrapping around his cock, a broken moan filling the room as he finally gets some relief. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day.”

Sue him, but he’s skipping ahead a little. There’s not much time until he cums and he needs to see you. All of you. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, bringing the other that’s around his cock up to his mouth to spit in. His thumb is haphazardly trying to keep the phone balanced while scrubbing through the video until he thinks he’s at a good spot. You’re laid back now, thighs spread for the camera and pussy on display. Carmen’s muttering to himself about how gorgeous you are, longing to tell you in person. You’re holding this royal blue dildo in your hands that’s suddenly his biggest enemy. He deserves to be there, not this stupid, useless chuck of silicone. There’s a whimper from the speaker as you take the toy and slide it along yourself, tapping it twice against your clit. “Fuck, I need you.”

Fuckin’ hell does he needs you too.

His fist is clamped around his dick once again, fucking his hips up into the the slick, tight grip. You’re still teasing yourself by sticking just the head of the dildo in before gasping and pulling it back out. “Please, Baby. I need you so bad, need to come for you.” His brain is breaking. An animalistic urge taking over to fuck you until you can’t move, can’t think, just a blubbering mess begging him for more. Without warning you push the dildo all the way in, throwing your head back with a pleasured scream.

Carmy gasps, hips sputtering and losing their rhythm as he watches you fuck yourself. He’s stroking himself at the same pace you’re moving the dildo, imaging it’s you he’s fucking into. Picturing you laid under him, your breasts covered in hickies because he hates the idea of these… Perverts watching you get off. He wants to mark you, claim you as his. His balls are tightening and he can’t think of the last time he came this quick. It’s almost embarrassing - What are you doing to him?

Your free hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth, lewdly sucking them for the camera. The sucking noise now accompanying the wet, addictive sounds of your pussy being fucked. Carmen whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, and twists his wrist over his cock to get a little more friction. Your voice hits him once again as you slide your wet fingers out of your mouth and down your throat. “Oh fuck I’m so close. So, so close. Are you close, Baby? Want you to come with me.” You’re lightly choking yourself, a whining mess.

Carmy’s aware he’s talking to an empty room but he can’t stop himself. “Fuck, oh fuck. Gonna come for you.” And his stomach coils, hips sputter, the phone falling to the bed as he has to let go of it as his orgasm washes over him. He’s slack jaw, warm cum landing on his chest and the sounds of you finishing at the same time ringing out from his phone.

Oh he’s so fucked.

————–——★–————

Carmy slept well for once in his life. His orgasm lulling his body to sleep, dreams filled of you. How beautiful you look sucking his cock. The way you must sound while he eats you out. And he takes his time in his dream. Tongue dragging between your folds as his rough hands hold your hips in place. You’re powerless, made to lay back and let him eat you out for his own pleasure. Tongue circling around your clit but he waits until you’re close to tears to stop teasing. He’d praise you. “Look how fucking wet you are, Princess. You’re already getting the bed wet, aren’t you? Gonna have to lick you for hours to get you all cleaned up. Can you say please, huh? Ask me to suck on your clit, Baby. You know you need it.”

He woke up hard and overstimulated, rolling over onto his stomach and pathetically dragging his hips against the warm bed to get some much needed friction along his cock. Carmy’s telling himself how pathetic this is and forcing himself to push off the bed and get into the shower before he’s late.

Yes, he jacked off in the shower before work.

He had to.

Carmy can’t decide if it’s heaven or hell when he walks in to see you standing in the kitchen.

You’re on your tiptoes, balancing haphazardly as you’re reaching up to change the light. There’s a wobbly step stool under you. Everyone keeps saying it needs to be replaced but it continues to live on. Your face is scrunching up in concentration. Carmy’s chuckling at the sight and ignoring the way he feels his balls tug at the sight of you. “What’re you doing there, Chef?”

You huff in annoyance, finally untwisting the light cover from the ceiling. “Damn light went out right as I started veggie prep. Hate to be a bother but will you come spot me while I’m up on this thing? I’ve seen Fak bust his ass one too many times to trust it.”

Carmy can’t verbally respond at first, instead stalking over to stand next to you. His hand comes up to cup the back of your knee and he’s lying to himself saying it’s for your own safety. To keep you balanced. “Yea well something tells me you’re less clumsy than Fak. I’ve seen that guy fall over while just standing still.”

And you laugh.

You laugh. At him. At his joke. He, Carmen Berzatto, made you laugh. The sound filling his ears and now his damn heart and balls are both reacting to you and what the hell is he supposed to do with all these emotions.

“Don’t distract me up here, Chef.” He doesn’t mind taking commands from you. Silently reaching up to hold the light fixture you’re passing him as you change gears to switch out the lightbulbs now.

And maybe his eyes are wandering around the kitchen to see who else might catch a glimpse of you two together. Everyone who’s in so far is honed in on their prep task and Carmy thanks God that Richie hasn’t shown up yet today.

He’s become quite faithful since he started falling for you it seems.

It happens, by chance, that you feel a little unsteady and Carmen tightens his grip on the back of your leg. Fingers digging into your soft skin. He’s looking down at the stool to make sure it’s level before looking up to take in the sight that is his hand around your leg.

And he stops looking there.

Okay fine that’s a fucking lie - he’s looking up. Eyes trailing up your thighs, following along the curve of your ass. When you have to lean forward just slightly to twist in the light cover he’s convinced he can see the outline of your pussy through the thin material of your leggings. He’s contemplating his options - If he could, would he lean in and lick over the outline? His warm mouth teasing you through your leggings. Through your underwear. Are you wearing underwear? He’s torn between picturing you with or without them.

Or would he slide his hand up your leg, palming your thigh as he goes. Cupping over you and dragging his middle finger across the shape of you. Memorizing the feeling. Would you whine? Grind down against his hand? He doesn’t think you’d shoo his touch away.

God he just knows you’re a needy little thing.

He wonders what it would feel like for you to lick your own wetness from his jaw after he’s decided he’s done savoring you. To taste you on your own tongue when he kissed you after. You’d look so pretty with his cum dripping down your lips too. All fucked out and exhausted and full of bliss.

“Okay, I think I got it fixed, Carmy.” God, he’s so fucked for thinking of you like this as you’re innocently changing the light. Just trying to improve the kitchen and he’s thinking about ruining you. He was so caught up in daydreaming that he didn’t even feel you take the light cover back out of his hand and screw it into place again.

You’re beaming down at him, using his shoulders as arm rests as you bounce down from the stepping stool. His hand grazes your ass - A total accident. He swears it. You reach behind him to sit the screwdriver down, your chest firmly against his. Nothing thinking anything of the personal space violation as you’re used to it from so many slammed nights in the kitchen.

“Thank you for helping me. Sorry it was basically just five minutes of my ass in your face.” Carmy chokes.

His cheeks are hot.

Fuck is he blushing?

He’s sputtering out of his words. “It uh, it wasn’t in my face. Not that I looked, y’know. Just uh… Just - just trying to say that I’m happy to help.” He sounds like an idiot

You’re cocking an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Holy shit, Carmy.” You pat your hands against his chest, not knowing your touch was like fire on his skin. He grabs the screwdriver and makes a beeline to the office to put it away for you.

Sure he grabbed a rag on the way. No it’s not for him to jack off into while he thinks of you.

Okay fine, it is.

“Fuck me.” The only thing Carmy can risk trying to say as the door shuts heavy behind him and his pants hit the ground.

———————–★–———

Carmen doesn’t avoid you now but he certainly makes it hard to get close to you. He’s too distracted when you’re around. Maybe there’s a bit of guilt mixed in too at his new night routine. Leave the restaurant, load your page, and wait to see what happens. New videos? New pictures? You were wormed into the back of his brain and it had to stop.

So your station got moved further down rotation. You’re at the end of the line on the left, he’s at the start on the right. It helps clear his mind, lets him hone in on perfecting what goes to the floor.

He’s able to move quickly, shifts blowing by as the restaurant’s rush takes all his attention. The clock clicks down two minutes till close, everyone working in silence to get the place flipped and go home. He’s wrapping up with Syd, helping her make a few adjustments to expo before grabbing a dead plate off of the end of the line and heading to the office with his food and a cup of water in hand. He needs a mental minute, a bite of food, and to let his thoughts all catch up.

The door’s already cracked and he’s halfway through the entry way when he registers you. Sitting there. At his desk. Your legs are crossed, a cool damp towel resting over your eyes. He wants to turn on his heel and retreat but decides that he can’t treat you any differently just because he’s developed some silly little crush. Running away would be treating you different.

“You good, Chef?”

To which you groan. Different from the ones he’s used to - This one is guttural, pained. You press your hands flat against the rag and will the cool temperature to help the pressure in your head. “Killer migraine, that’s all. Shit was moving so fast tonight and I wacked the back of my head on something in the walk in. Sorry for being in here, Carm. Just uh, needed a second.” You should push up out of the chair, show your respect. But right now you’re half convinced that standing up would be detrimental so for now you’re cemented to the seat.

“Heard.” Carmen nods to himself, sitting down the plate before opening up the desk drawer as quietly as possible. Your knee is pressing into the side of his thigh, grounding and warm. He fishes out a bottle of medicine, shaking out two pills. “Hold out your hand.”

You take a second to brace yourself for movement, sitting up and moving the towel off your eyes. Letting it pile up into a clump on the desk besides you. There’s no way around it - You look pitiful. Pouting up at Carmen as he hands over two pills and his cup out water. You take the pills diligently, taking a few gulps and letting your eyes fall back closed as you will them to kick in instantly. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Anything, Chef.”

Slowly, so not to shake yourself up, you turn the chair until your back is to Carmen. “Will you see if I gotta bump back there? Kinda terrified I gave myself a concussion but I don’t wanna believe it was that hard.”

He snickering, a grin pulling up the corners of his mouth as he steps closer. “Well you’d absolutely fuck me if you needed to file workmen’s comp so I’m gonna need you to be fine, ‘kay? Way too much fuckin’ paperwork to do on a Friday night.” You start to laugh but it’s quickly cut off into a small groan of appreciation as you feel warm, rough hands clasp either side of your shoulders.

Carmen works his way up your neck and catches himself holding his breath as his fingers brush along your scalp. He’s taking his time, savoring the moment, all under the pretense of taking care of his employee. That’s all. “Think we’re both in the clear. You feeling alright besides the headache? Need me to hold up some fingers for ya to guess? Haven’t managed to cut any off so we’ve got all ten to work with.” He’s got you laughing again while rough fingers work their way back down to your neck. The feeling of the vibration of your laughter against his hands sending chills down his back.

Wordlessly Carmen gets to work rubbing your shoulders. Tender, deep. Years of practice rolling out dough and desserts and tenderizing meat coming into play as he continues to knead away at your tense body. You let out an appreciative moan and Carmen has to start thinking of something to keep his inevitable hard on from being obvious.

When his hands come up closer to your neck once again he’s hit with flashbacks of the first video he watched. You choking yourself — Is that something you truly liked? If his hand came around to cup your throat, palm resting on one side with his fingertips firmly against the other, and lightly squeezed would you moan? Rub your thighs together in search of some hint of relief?

“Are you always this good with your hands, Chef? Hmm? Can’t imagine you giving Marcus this treatment.” You’re laughing and can practically hear the smirk in Carmen’s voice as he responds. “Yeah - You uh, didn’t know that? I just love you know, rubbing shoulders. It’s my thing. Kick your ass all night and then rub the stress out.”

He’s blanching a little at his reply. Kinda obvious but okay then, Carmen. You reach up, putting your hands atop his with a little smile. “Well thank you for… Rubbing my stress out, Chef.”

Carmen’s red. Head to toe just bright red. “Of course, Chef. Anytime.” He’s entertaining to say the least as you pat his hands before spinning around in his chair. You snag another drink of water, throwing him a wink before moving to exit the office. Your hand runs along his chest, an appreciative gesture, as you head back to the floor.

——————————★–

Late Saturday night Carmen’s so exhausted that he barely has the energy to take his work clothes off. Falling haphazardly onto his old couch, kicking his work boots off one at a time. His eyes are heavy, body aching, and he almost falls asleep before he gets to see you.

But he’s fishing his phone from his pocket, refreshing the all too familiar landing page to see you’re actively live. How you have the energy is beyond him.

You’re standing there trying on clothes that someone must send in and Carmy feels a pang of jealousy. He’s watching through half hooded eyes as you slip in a pair of shorts, turning your behind towards the camera and pulling them up just slightly to put more of your ass on display. You’re chatting away about the material while slowly pulling them down to reveal just this frilly little pair of panties that was sent in as well.

He’s propping the phone up on the armrest of the couch, laying on his side while he watches you chat away. It’s soothing. Almost like an ASMR video.

Carmen’s not sure when he fell asleep - Somewhere in-between you trying on a third outfit and attempting to clean up your bed from all the packaging. He finds you soothing, comforting. He makes a mental note to hunt out some sort of wish list you must have for these items before passing out and, once again, dreaming of you.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #so many versions of his name #🤍: the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #♡: carmen berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear smut #the bear #carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy smut #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you

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stabbythespaceroomba · 2 months

Text

Okay here we go again! If tumblr deletes this I’m gonna scream

Aeron - easy to see what he’s wearing, underclothing can be speculated

Aeron’s layers include breeches, tunic you can barely see under gambeson, gambeson (over something with long sleeves), tabard, gauntlets, gloves and belts, then then cloak

I’d argue you might have another underlayer of an undershirt, but that might just be the tunic you can see. We have nothing canonical for that, but it would make sense!! we can’t see if he’s wearing a quilted gorge or how his gambeson connects around his neck, meaning we can’t see if it’s tied or pulled over his head.

You can see a bit of a dip in the collar though so I would Heavily argue that it is tied down the front

Davos is now easy to know! Kieran Burton fed us GOOD today! Living for the fact that it’s Not a woollen tunic!

People into Davos-sexy times will be glad to know that the breeches are not just suspended but laced up (@benjicotblckwood thinking abt you lmaooo)(possible on both sides at the front, from the amount of string but I cannot see due to the shadow) . As is his under shirt, it laces at his neck

The next layer peeks out slightly!

It’s quilted and grey and I’d suggest it’s probably a quilted gorge maybe like

Or something more like that ^

Then comes the gambeson

Quilted and tied at the front, she looks lighter and is shorter than Aeron’s. The leather detailing would give extra protection and could easily be swapped with metal.

On top is his beautiful leather braided jerkin, woven leather gauntlets and cloak!

Everything seems to be tied together and nothing looks too heavy. This is a guy who prioritises moving fast

Layer check - breeches and undershirt, mystery quilted layer, gambeson, jerkin, cloak. 5 layers!!

So much work and thought have been put into these two, rather throw away outfits! They’re beautiful! I love how it shows Aeron in quite traditional knights wear. Aeron looks very proper for his station and yet is still underprepared! He doesn’t even have any mail on, bless him.

Davos on the other hand, his clothes are more of a wildcard and yet he’s clearly coming from money, he’s well protected himself and you can see that he’s well suited to fight with his knife. His clothing looks lighter but is no less unprotective (for border guarding, not necessarily a battle field 😬)

If anyone has any other idea or thinks I’ve named anything wrongly pls let me know! I’m a HEMA enthusiast and an medieval/early modern church historian not an armour expert!

#it was pure coincidence that I deep dived into their clothing for writing fic today when KieranBurton fed us Sooo well #aeron bracken #brackwood #davron #davos blackwood #hotd #house of the dragon #Kieran Burton #davos blackwood x aeron bracken #brackenwood #hotd season 2

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swanscript · 1 month

Text

in which you're aegon's legally-wedded and never-bedded wife - who cares so little for him that even he's noticed.

It is the hour of the bat, deep into the velvety night, and you'd had it all planned out. Your sheets are fresh. You've bathed in lavender scented water, and spent half the day drying your hair carefully by the fireside so it won't become ruffled. You've just slipped on a rose-coloured robe of the finest Dornish silk, and wriggled delightedly into bed when it happens.

The door to your bedchambers explodes open, and Aegon staggers in, roaring a drunken sea shanty.

Oh, how you hate men.

"So hey, the bonny sailors go

To Sothoryos with a rising 'ho'!"

"Aegon," you start, pushing yourself up on your pillows with the air of someone explaining something to a very stupid child. "It's late. I'm tired."

Aegon stops dead when he sees you, sitting prettily in his bed with your arms folded in bemusement. You don't think he expected to see you here. You often sleep in a different room, and when sharing his bedchambers you make it a point to keep him firmly on the other side of the mattress.

Aegon and you both know the castle staff whispers rumours of your strange and sex-less relationship. You don't care.

Aegon might, but you've decided not to care about him either. He's aware of your cold indifference - which is why he's so surprised to see you here.

"....well," he says, swaying where he stands. "If it isn't...my frigid lady-wife. Here to ice me out again?"

You don't rise to the bait. "I'm here to sleep. You're welcome to do the same."

"Oh, I'm welcome, am I? Welcome in my own bed?" Aegon hiccoughs, slowly undoing the clasps on his velvet jerkin. He lets it thud to the floor (you can bet a hundred gold dragons he'll trip over it first thing tomorrow) and begins to traipse your way. "Am I permitted to finally lay a finger on my lawful wife, or will she only let me hold her hand for appearance's sake at banquets?"

Hackles rising, you bite back at once. "Am I permitted to have a husband who doesn't fuck a different whore every night? Who doesn't reek of of alcohol? Am I permitted to not be abandoned each day for taverns and brothels? Am I permitted to sleep or must I take your leave for that too, lord-husband?"

If Aegon were sober, he might have a scalding remark in response. But the ale has filled his mind with mush, and all he can do is scowl and sulk. It doesn't please you to see him so miserable. Your heart isn't in the fight either.

Your husband thuds onto the bed with a heavy sigh, narrowly missing squashing you.

"...help me with the clasp then, if nothing else," he mutters, pointing at his bejeweled belt buckle.

Sighing, you concede, reaching forward and undoing the cool metal. It clicks apart under your deft hand, and you steal a glance up at your supposed husband.

Months of marriage, and the times when you've ever really looked at him are few and far in between. After a disasterous bedding ceremony and so many days of neglect, the two of you have learnt to not acknowledge each other's presence. As a result, Aegon's face never fails to stand out as unique to you.

Soft cloud of wispy silver hair. Eyes of pale amethyst. The classic Targaryen look - striking colour palette, ghostly shades of old Valayria. The hint of feminine features from his mother softens him. He looks lost now, his pouty mouth softly sagging with defeat. A little verbal joust with you has leeched all the revelry out of him. Right, now, soundly beaten as he is, Aegon is difficult to despise.

You tug the belt out of its loops and he mutters his slurred gratitudes.

"Can you do the rest on your own?"

He grunts in affirmative. You retreat back to your side. Both of you feel the invisible wall being drawn up between once more.

You know, when you really think about it, you suppose Aegon is a handsome man. When he's not drunk. Or bothering you just before you sleep with sappy, obnoxious questions.

"Do you love me?"

You stop in the middle of adjusting your coverlet. "What?"

Aegon is looking at you with not a hint of a joke in his eyes. He repeats the impossible possibility. "Do you love me?"

In daylight, you would have sneered at his question and swept off in a swirl of silk skirts to resume your royal day. Now, with moonshine softening the need for sharp exteriors, you decide to humour his question. No one is around to use your words against you, at least. You feel your guard lift an inch.

"Love you?" you ponder, leaning back against your richly embroidered pillows. "...I think I would be...distressed, if you died. But love you- I don't even like you." You glance his way, contemplating. "Yet."

Aegon looks at you with doubtful lilac eyes. "So there's hope?"

"Don't be too optimistic."

His face, already miserable with the weight of alcohol and fractured familial relationships, turns slightly more sour. You're not foolish. Aegon's agonies don't have much to do with you. His mother, hell-bent on making him king, and his brother, hell-bent on undermining and embarrassing him at every opportunity are his chief worries. You've never seeked to hurt him politically. But you've always remained distant, watching him carefully like a narrow-eyed cat and hissing if he gets too close. There's only so much your pride can allow after being man-handled into a strategic marriage so roughly.

But right now, weak and addled as he is, you can afford some kindness.

"Don't look so down, Aegon," you say softly. "Perhaps I'm Dorne. Eternally un-won by Targaryens."

The gentleness works - Aegon unticks like a clam and lets words come pouring out.

"I keep thinking... really feeling as though you would prefer my brother Aemond over me. Or that he would like you, at the very least. And that grasping bastard, Jacaerys." A flash of anger splits Aegon's face. "I see how he moons over you across the dinner table. Like he'd like you lay you out on his dinner plate and take bites out your skin. Take what's mine. My wife, by law if not by her own will. Mine. My skin. My soft, soft skin. I should kill him. Cunt."

Weak, you think, watching his messy torrent of emotions. Your father would have flayed you living for such risky honesty in a world so tightly controlled by reputation. Always say less than necessary. Never trust anyone, ever.

As it is, you carefully file this new information away in your head. Aemond desiring you in a marriage seems in line with his ambitious nature - your family's legendary wealth would serve him well. You doubt he cares for you as a person.

And Jacaerys.... you've seen him ogling at you a couple of times when you're really dressed to the nines, but you doubt it's anything worth thinking about. Men have always watched you in that hungry way. You have genetics to thank for that, nothing more. It doesn't aid you, ultimately.

Aegon is still muttering away darkly. "I should kill him. Cut off his riding chains so he goes screaming into the sea the next time he mounts his dragon. I think that'll fix him-"

"Don't think," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You're not particularly excellent at it, from what I've heard. I heard you thought Sir Arryk was a particularly buxom woman from behind."

Aegon sniffs. "An engraved band in his hair. What was he prettying up for, the flagstones in the corridors? I don't fancy a preening peacock guarding me."

"See, Aegon, you're lying again. And it's unneeded and strange. You were only drunk and made a wine-swayed misjudgement," you say wearily. "And you don't think he's a peacock. You think you're a peacock. You've been matching your socks with your shoes since the day I knew you."

Aegon laughs, soft and bitter.

"If you know me so well, why do you pretend your dislike is only from distance? ...you hate me because you know me. You've always...always hated me."

In sulking speech, Aegon has slowly tipped in your direction, his head inches from yours. He's too drunk and too non-commital to rearrange himself. You allow his hair to touch your silk sleeve. Pink fabric, his ash white hair fanning across it.

Then, without even really thinking or caring, you sigh and pull him onto your chest to hold him there like a babe.

"I've already said, I don't hate you."

Aegon is too drunk to jab or pull back. He lays there. You run fingers through his hair, smoothening the scattered strands into place, sorting his thoughts into neat furrows. Sleepy tears spread a wet spot onto your robe. You allow it, even through fuzzled bafflement at such weakness. What does he want, to suck on your teat? He's older than you, yet you're centuries harder. Aegon - too soft a boy for his over-reaching mother - falls asleep in barely sated turmoil, on your chest like a barely grown child.

You allow it.

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd season 2 #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #tom glynn carney #hotd one shot #aegon targaryen x reader

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

Text

Dream of Me

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (House of the Dragon) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.2k

Summary: Upon learning of Helaena's lady in waiting's dream of him, Aemond is plagued by his own.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day two of the Smuffmas prompts - "dreams and dirty talk". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Just so you know, if I were going to pleasure you with my mouth, I would do it before I stuck my cock in your cunt, not after.”

The words Aemond had spoken to her play on a loop in his mind as he readies himself for bed, a smug smirk of satisfaction playing delicately upon his lips.

Her shocked expression is one he wants to keep in his mind’s eye as he pleasures himself, but is frustrated to find that his overindulgence of wine at that evening’s supper renders him unable to rouse his cock to attention, it lays flaccid and useless in his palm, causing him to tuck it away with a frustrated sigh.

As he lays tangled in the soft cotton of the bedsheets, his final thought as sleep tugs him towards hazy unconsciousness is that he hopes she will dream of him again.

She has her back turned to him, fingers tracing carefully over the spines of the books on the shelf she faces in the library. He strides purposefully towards her, the dulcet tone of her gasp shooting straight to his stones, making them ache, as he wraps a deft hand around her throat.

He can feel the heat of her body through his jerkin as he pulls her back against his chest, the skin of her jaw soft as peach flesh as he trails his mouth against it. She shivers against him, not fighting his advances, simply allowing him to do with her as he pleases.

The lacings that fasten the back of her gown tear effortlessly in his grasp as his free hand rips at them, the garment falling from her body, leaving her completely bare to him.

Her hands reach up the shelves, gripping for purchase, whether it is to keep herself steady, or an attempt to get away from him, Aemond is unsure, but desire boils too hotly in his blood for him to care.

He is swift to untie his breeches, grabbing her hips and sinking himself into her tight, wet heat. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does when it topples from her lips in the throes of ecstasy, coupled with the sticky sounds that accompany every push into her. She is so warm, so warm, so very warm…

There is warmth against his flesh when Aemond opens his eye, the bright sunlight that bleeds through the crack in the curtains making him grimace as he scrubs a hand across his face.

He has been dreaming, and yet it had felt so real. He swears he can feel her arousal, the heat of her, and then he sees the sticky translucence that coats his lower abdomen.

Just a dream.

The shame of which he will wash away in his morning bath.

He feels restless throughout the day, nothing satisfies the pulsating ache of want that simmers hotly in his lower abdomen.

The burning in his shoulder from wielding his sword, bringing it down upon Ser Criston’s upturned shield, and watching the wood splinter into fragments across the gravel of the training yard does nothing to quell the storm that rages inside him.

Perhaps it is not physical stimulation that he needs he reasons, nowhere has offered him solace quite like the quiet solitude that can be found between the yellowing pages of a historical tome.

The library is silent as he enters it, the thud of his boots against the flagstone floor echoing off of the vaulted ceiling as he makes his way slowly between the towering shelves. The supple leather that binds the covers of his favourite philosophy and history books feels rough against his fingertips. Nothing could compare with the velvety softness of how her flesh had dimpled beneath the press of his fingertips, but that was all in his imagination. How could a simple dream have rendered him so listless?

He swallows, screwing his eye shut, attempting to ignore the throbbing between his legs.

Just a dream. No reality would ever yield such pleasure. The depravity he had dared to peruse since learning of her dream of him would never be as pleasurable as he had built it up in his mind to be.

He exhales a shaky breath, attempting to calm himself, and when he opens his eye she is there, much more real than anything he could imagine. Yet the sight of her, back turned to him as her eyes wander the shelves feels so familiar. He is frozen in place, until she feels his attention on her and turns slightly, offering the softest of smiles.

He clears his throat, stepping towards her, his voice low.

“I trust you slept well, my lady?”

“Mmm, yes, my Prince, very well indeed,” she responds politely, turning to face him.

His eye roves across her, taking in her delicate features, the gentle slope of her neck, the swell of her breasts in her bodice, the subtle curve of her hips beneath her skirts, before lifting once more to her face.

“Were your dreams pleasant?” He asks with a smirk.

“You mean did I dream of you?” She replies cheeikly.

Little temptress.

“I dreamed of you,” he whispers, stepping towards her, backing her against the shelves. There is no fear reflected back at him in her eyes, as she stares up at him, only glittering excitement. It takes all of his restraint not to grab her by the waist and pull her to him.

“Pleasant, I hope?” Her chest rises and falls in a sudden state of breathlessness.

“You drive me to distraction,” he utters. “Tell me, how easily would your dress tear from your body if I were to tug hard enough?”

Her eyes go wide as her breath hitches, but still she does not look away. “I–I do not know,” is all she is able to offer.

“I ripped it from you in my dreams,” he whispers, ducking his head low to whisper against the shell of her air, delighting in the way her skin erupts into gooseflesh at the feel of his breath. “I sank inside of you, and you screamed my name in ecstasy.”

“Aemond…” she gasps helplessly, hands clutching at the black material of his jerkin.

“It sounds so sweet from your mouth. Does it leave your lips so freely when you pleasure yourself?”

Finally she averts her gaze, her voice small and embarrassed sounding when she answers. “...yes.”

His nose trails a path from her ear, down her neck, stopping when he reaches her clavicle. She smells sweet, like rosewater, her flesh as delicate as the petals from which it derives its scent, exactly as he had dreamed it would.

“Please…” she whines, her fists coiling tighter in the leather that covers his chest.

“Please what?” He asks coyly, lifting his gaze, his face mere inches away from hers.

“Touch me.”

“You would like that, would you not? For me to soak my cock with your maidenhead, leave your betrothed dissatisfied with what he finds on your wedding night?”

“But I want you,” she pleads quietly.

“And I you, my lady,” he grips her jaw tightly in his hand, running his thumb over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “But for now, sweet dreams of each other will have to do. I hope to visit you in yours again soon.”

With that, Aemond abruptly steps away from her, leaving the library in desperate need to relieve the way he strains against the confines of his trousers. He hopes he dreams of her again tonight, and every night after that.

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ollypopwrites · 6 months

Text

Dinner and Diatribes;

Gale x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [note: references to the fact Tav is Curvy but there’s no descriptors on her appearance besides what she’s wearing]

Summary: Gale gets his perfect night in Waterdeep.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

CW: smut (oral sex, PiV sex, fingering, slight overstim, references to Dom!Gale but he doesn’t actually make an appearance this time), insecurity, General Mystra Warning, L-bombs

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: this was originally written with my SorcBard Tav in mind. They end up together post-game and Tav and Gale have not been with each other physically as of yet.

Read on Ao3

Tav appraised her appearance one last time, nerves bubbling up in her when she knew there ought not to be any. She was having dinner with Gale, not a stranger.

Yet, she tugged at the lacy sleeves of her tunic, the cream colored fabric dangling off her shoulders and belling at the sleeves. Her breasts were up and out, figure tucked and smoothed by the sturdy corset she wore. The wrap skirt, slit at the leg with stockings underneath, was periwinkle, hugged her hips and showed some skin. She had wanted to veer away from the normally shapeless practicality of the protective gear she wore throughout their journey.

And she found the delicate pale blue embroidery against the white fabric of the garment to be quite pretty, the silk bows that served as sleeves made her think of romantic ballads. She felt delight at wearing something pretty without thinking of practicality for the first time since being taken by the nautiloid. There was a novelty to sitting down to take time to get ready for something fun rather than something that could potentially end with blood and death.

Her eyes drifted over to the corner of the room that until recently had housed a small altar to the Mother of Magic.

In its place was a vase of flowers, Tav’s favorite colors and blooms, which had appeared that morning. The altar itself had mysteriously disappeared the day after they first arrived in Waterdeep. Neither of them had said anything about it, but she knew he had seen her staring at the dusty offerings and long burnt incense laid at the feet of an idol of his former lover.

With one last look in the mirror she bolstered herself. She was no goddess but she had defeated a Vampire Lord, undead generals, a 200 year curse, hordes of goblins and a Netherbrain. That had to count for something.

Taking a deep breath she left through the bedroom door, and was met by Gale.

Well, Gale’s double. A projection, as he was often fond of using.

“Greetings! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!”

“Oh, are you?” She asked sarcastically.

“I am indeed!”

Sarcasm was not translated into the projection it seemed.

“If you are ready for the evening to begin, please say so, if not, I shall await your confirmation.”

Tav smiled a little, “I’m ready.”

“Please follow me.”

She followed him down to the same level as the study, and she found herself confused. They were meant to be having dinner. The whole package, she had recalled, he wanted to wine and dine her. She expected to be escorted to the dining room, not the study.

The door was closed, and the projection gave a polite bow to signal its leave. Should she knock? Uncertain, she gripped the door handle and opened the door.

Immediately she was confronted with a wave of unfamiliar smells. Normally the study smelt like the fireplace, leather of bound books, ink and slight sea air from the terrace. Instead this smelled of savory food, crisp night air, and heavy sea spray. The entry was draped by lavish silk curtains hiding any view of the room, tassels and embroidered prints creating lovely textures.

Gale stood waiting for her arrival.

His hair was pulled back and pinned neatly in his new fashion of a small bun at the back of his head. He wore a white tunic, billowed sleeves and a jerkin of sapphire blue, embroidered intricately with bronze filigree. Dark blue breeches, and what looked to be blue shoes which matched his vest.

It also looked as if he had trimmed his beard, the lines smooth and incredibly sleek. Tav had certainly noticed how handsome he was during their travels, and even then he was always somewhat genteel despite the rugged conditions.

This was different. He seemed more in his element like this, maybe not quite so formally dressed, but she could imagine this was the Gale Dekarios which caught the eye of a Goddess. Confident, gentlemanly and remarkably good looking.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said, aware how nervous and jittery her voice was despite her smile.

“Hello,” Gale grinned. “You look… exquisite.”

She blushed. “And you look very good in blue.”

Gale kissed her cheek, and she gripped his face to make sure he kissed her properly. “I’ve prepared everything,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“For you? Always.”

Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm and she accepted. They walked through the fabric barrier and Tav audibly gasped at the transformation. The study was changed, made to look like an enchanting garden. Lit up by candelabras, framed by arches made of vines and flowers of every color imaginable, it was beautiful.

The view from the terrace had been expanded, so that from every angle a clear view of the glittering lights of Waterdeep glinted. The entire mirage was topped with a star filled sky and the moon hanging at the horizon of the water. She could feel a breeze, not too cold but carrying the scent of the ocean.

A table sat at the center, intimate, and music was playing from some unseen source. Most likely the enchanted piano. Where she knew the terrace was, his couch still stood, overlooking the view. The sounds coming through beyond the music were real, she could tell. It was simultaneously an illusion and blissfully real.

He led her to the table, pulled out her chair for her and then sat across from her. The smile on her face was starting to hurt her cheeks, only emphasized by another Gale projection bringing them wine. They toasted each other and she looked out on the view of the city.

“Do you like it?” He sounded uncertain.

Her hand came out to grab his across the table. “It’s hard to describe, but like isn’t a strong enough word.” She glanced over to the projection of Gale waiting to be summoned for any need they may have, “although I think the waiter fancies me.”

“I applaud his taste.”

It was very clear how meticulously planned the night had been. From the food to the wine, Gale had an exuberant explanation for his choices. For a moment Tav wondered why she would be nervous at all; they had shared every meal together for months. But, Tav knew that this was the courtship he had wanted to offer her, this was the night he wished he could have given her when he thought it was his last back on the road to Moonrise.

Gale, if he was nervous, did not show it. Instead his eyes glinted with excitement, eagerness, and delight. His gaze was so intense on her, she felt like either the wine or something else was making her brain fuzzy.

After dinner they danced, slow uncomplicated movements to the music from the piano for a while, and then settled onto the settee looking out at the water. The night sky was clear, the breeze from the bay adding a bit of chill that balanced out the warmth she felt from the wine. It was a beautiful tapestry of midnight blue and silver of the moon and stars.

She leaned against him half draped over his lap as her legs stretched out, fingers dancing over his palm which lay in her lap. His other hand gently danced over her arm and down her side. She thought she may melt at the warmth of his lips pressed against her bare shoulder, beard softly scratching as he lingered there.

“You ought to be careful, Gale.”

“Oh? What dangers lurk that I am unaware of?”

“The danger of spoiling me rotten,” she chuckled.

“I’m not averse to such a risk,” he nuzzled behind her ear, “quite the opposite, really. You deserve it, and more.”

Her mind rolled over that, heart full at his earnestness as usual. Even if she didn’t believe it, he certainly did.

“Thank you,” she said thoughtfully after a moment. “This night has been so wonderful.”

“It’s not over yet,” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine. No words finding their way to her lips.

“If I may be so bold,” he went on, “I’d like to partake in dessert somewhere more private.”

“Tell me, Chef Dekarios, what is on the dessert menu tonight?”

“You,” he said, a grin evident in his voice. “I’d have laid you across the dinner table if I hadn’t promised us both a bed first and foremost. You truly are a temptress,” his hand broke from her loving grasp to run along the curve of her neck, and shoulder, fingers trailing over the tops of her breasts before cupping her chin, “you incite such an insatiable hunger, even when you are doing nothing more than sitting there across from me. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to finally have a taste.”

Tav’s head tipped back, eyes closed as her skin began to flush and her heart began to thud in her chest. “I’ll allow anything you want,” she breathed. “Name it, it’s yours.”

“Tav,” he murmured.

“Yours.” She repeated.

A tug in her stomach and the strange shift of moving through the weave happened so suddenly, she opened her eyes, confused by her new surroundings. She was on her feet, Gale behind her still, but in the bedroom, no longer shrouded by lovely blue night sky but the warmth of a candle lit room and the familiar walls.

Gale murmured something, and then spun her around to kiss her. Needy, fervent meetings of lips, and tongues. Her fists curled into the fabric of his sleeves, and his settled on either side of her face. She felt a tugging at her back, then the cool brush of an unseen hand. He had conjured a mage hand to untie her corset, the fingers pulling at the strings to loosen them.

Before it managed to get them all the way undone, she was fumbling with buttons on his vest. She shrugged the heavy corset off, the thud of it falling to the ground ignored as she pushed his own garment off his shoulders. Before he could distract her with his hands again, she untucked his shirt and pulled the fabric over his head.

Her fingers danced over his warm skin, feeling hair and scars and firm muscle beneath flesh. Gale groaned, bending to grip her by the generous flesh of her thighs to pull her up in his arms, for the quick journey to the bed where he set her down. Her tunic was tugged off, thrown aside and he grunted in displeasure at the thin cloth bandeau that still covered her breasts.

Tav chuckled, grabbing the scrap of fabric and pulling it overhead. Gale’s eyebrows hiked up at the sight of her tits out, heavy and round with already pebbled nipples, and under the scrutiny she felt doubt creep in.

“Not what you were hoping for?” It was half a joke, a deflection for the blush she knew was on her face, something to do besides wrap her arms around herself.

“Are you completely mad?” He finally met her eyes, looking offended. “May I?”

She nodded, only to be firmly guided onto her back as Gale put one knee between her thighs on the bed and leaned forward.

His hands grabbed, not fully able to grasp, even with hands larger than her own. “Soft,” he thought out loud to himself. “How are you so soft?”

“I-I don't know,” she hitched a breathy tone. “Ah, gentle please,” she gasped when he began pinching and rolling the peaks between his fingers, calloused fingers from years of spell work and a combined over-excited pinch both thrilling and overstimulating, “they’re very sensitive.”

“Very important information,” he murmured, running a thumb over one in a soothing motion that still made her gasp out loud. “I wonder…”

The thought trailed off as his mouth clasped around one nipple and Tav gave an undignified squeal as her hips rolled. Too many layers between her skirt and underclothes to provide her the relief she wanted, even with his knee between her thighs. Each brush of his finger over one, followed by a firm squeeze, made her twitch and the laving of his tongue had her letting out soft little moans.

Finally he pulled away, watching as his hands continued where he left off. One hand danced over her soft stomach, and slipped down towards the waistband of her skirt, tickling the skin there until she gasped a laugh. He pushed down her stockings, tugged her skirt off and looked one last time for approval before he slipped her under things down her legs.

For a moment, his eyes darted over her body. Despite the thrill of being at the center of such avid admiration, she felt the need to do something in the face of it. A conflicting moment of uncertainty, the apprehension of him seeing any flaw in her moving her to try distract him. Her fingers came up to grab, but he gently redirected her wrist to his lips.

“You are perfect beyond imagining,” he said.

“You’re a flatterer,” she breathed, her eyes avoiding his, as they trailed over his torso and to the bulge in his breeches.

“I reject that accusation,” he said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the floor before he got to his knees upon it. “I’m an admirer of art.”

Tav rolled her eyes with a half laugh as she allowed her legs to be spread, heels set on the edge of the bed. He kissed each one as he set them where he wanted, beard scratching and tongue peaking out to taste.

She was a little in awe of him like this. His eyes dark, a slight smirk painted onto his face, softened only when he met her eyes and smiled at her. With his broad shoulders forcing her legs wider as he moved further between them, and his hair coming out of his once immaculate bun, she felt her throat run dry and a heat rush through her body as she admired him.

He stopped suddenly, and she met his look of intentional seriousness. “If you need me to stop,” he said, “say the word and we will.”

She nodded her head.

He kissed the inside of her thigh again, before his eyes slid down his hands massaging around her outer lips. She was wet, it had smeared her thighs, that she already knew. A gentle gasp pulled from her lungs as he took his time, rubbing and spreading her, the same look of deep focus on his face as when he was taken with an interesting tome.

Gale rubbed along the seam of her, before spreading her open and gently rubbing her clit. A choked sound emitted from her after he commented, “you’re soaked, my love.”

“All your doing, beloved,” she replied.

“I do love hearing that,” he grinned. “You’ll have to tell me what else I do to you.”

Any response died away when he licked a long stripe along her. The slightest groan came from him, and he began to work. It was agonizing heaven, the filthy sounds as he sucked and licked at her cunt and the way he gripped her thighs only enhancing the actual sensation of his mouth on her.

Half-formed thoughts kept slipping out of her mouth until only single words and whines were all she could muster. Her hands slid over his, and he laced them together, his efforts doubling after the gesture of affection. Her excitement was running so high, anticipation adding to arousal, that she knew she would not last long.

“Gale,” she breathed, “feels so good — so close —“

He never pulled away, just found what was making her legs writhe over his shoulders the most, what made her hips search for friction, and her breath spike. Her hands gripped his so both of them had a firm grip of her thighs, as she suddenly teetered over the edge, heavy waves of pleasure singing in her veins as he licked her through it.

Except once it passed, he did not pull away. It felt good, so she was not going to push him off, but she was sensitive. Each touch of his tongue on her clit felt like a shock through her whole being making her legs clamp around him. He let go of her hands and pushed her thighs apart again, she thought that alone had her ready to fall apart once more.

Relentless and yet somehow still controlled, he was singularly intent on making her come again. The sensation almost scared her as she greedily chanted for more, more, more in her head and maybe aloud, she couldn’t be sure. Gale was groaning into her, the firmness of his grip surprising her still. She wanted him inside of her.

“Please“ she started to beg, “fuck me.”

He gave a moan, the only time she felt him falter. “One more, my love,” he replied. A demand or a promise, maybe both. “Give me one more.”

He let his fingers work over her this time, still between her legs, watching each movement she made. For her credit, she kept her hips and legs from knocking him away, the rest of her body making up for it. Her back arched, she writhed and gripped the bedding beneath her like it was going to anchor her.

When Gale slipped a finger inside of her, easy enough that he tried a second, she went stiff. “Good?”

She nodded her head.

“Words, please, Tav,” he said gently. It occurred to her he may be asking after her wellbeing rather than to tease.

Either way, she loved the feeling in her brain at the idea of it being a demand. Of him tormenting her in the most beautiful way.

“Good!” She blurted out. “So fucking good.”

His mouth had expertly pulled her apart, but she was finding his fingers to be just as talented. She clamped down around the digits pushing in her as she felt herself falling to pieces.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Good, Tav…” when she opened her eyes, she was met with him staring at hers. As if he could read her mind, he went on talking, “come undone for me.”

Her whole being responded to the request, as if he had the ability to command her body with just a word. She writhed and rolled her hips as she came, a truly unrestrained string of cries that she knew were a bit too loud. Gale’s hand cupped her cunt, and she could feel the pulse of it against his hand — his face giving way to pure want as he moaned.

“Alright?” He asked after a moment.

“Would be better if I had you inside of me,”she teased, giddily.

“Minx,” he grumbled, coming to stand.

“Tease,”she shot back sitting up.

When she kissed him he tasted distinctly of her arousal, and somehow it made her heart skip a beat. Her tongue danced over his, hand trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, untying as she went. Her hands slipped inside, grasping through his underclothes at the length of his cock, hard and tenting the fabric.

Gale gave a sinful groan, eyes shut tight and when she started to stroke his jaw went slack.

Tav chuckled, “feel good, my darling?”

“Too good,” he grunted, hand gripping her wrist tight. “It’s been… far too long since I’ve — erm, partaken in pleasure on this plane, so to speak.”

Tav frowned, contemplating that, her eyes drifting to the space where Mystra’s altar had once been then back to him. “That’s okay,” she said immediately. “I don’t care.”

“You might,” he replied, wry smile masking what she knew to be embarrassment creeping up on him, “when the night ends rather, prematurely.”

Tav shrugged. “Then we drink some wine and wait until you’re up to more,” she said casually tugging off the rest of his clothes. “I didn’t wait all this time to have you just once tonight anyway.”

Gale licked his lips, eyebrows twitching up in interest.

She tugged at his wrist, “lay back,” she guided him onto the bed, pushing him to sit with his back against the headboard. “We can go slow.”

Gale got comfortable, hands grabbing at her hips when she settled in his lap. Her fingers danced over the orbs mark, raised like a scar but looking almost inked in like a tattoo. The fervor had stalled just slightly, his cock still hard between them but no longer pulsing as it had in her hand.

“What would our friends say if they knew what you were hiding under those robes,” she mused, arms curling over his broad shoulders.

“I rather think I held my own on our intrepid journeys,” he said, sounding more like himself. “Aside from the creaky knees.”

“That you did,” she agreed. “I would have been lost without you.”

She kissed him, slowly and affectionately, as she lifted herself a bit. Her fingers danced down his body again, taking their time to admire the sturdiness he hid under his wizard robes day to day.

Finger nails scratched through the hair that trailed down his torso, and into the thicker patch between his legs. She gripped him again, and he moaned into her mouth, the kiss matching his needy grasp on the flesh of her hips.

Unable to help herself from teasing, she dragged the head of him through her folds, letting him feel how wet she was for him. His brow furrowed harshly.

As she lined him up and slowly sank down, she was torn between watching every minuscule change in his expression and closing her eyes to relish the perfect fit. He stopped kissing her, the shuddering breath he drew and the way his eyes started to roll back giving her that much more satisfaction.

Her own gasp filled the soundless space between them, walls fluttering at the intrusion. “Gods, you feel so good,” she whined.

Gale was speechless. Voice stolen by deep concentration, and then his eyes opened. For a singular moment Tav felt as if she was the only other person in the world, the pure look of awe and combined sharp focus of his attention made her feel ten feet tall.

How could anyone, goddess or not, take his sincere devotion for granted?

“Do you want me to move?”

“Not yet,” he whispered desperately. “Just — please, let me —“

He pulled her to him, bodies pressing at almost every point. His arms were a tight wrap around her, his cheek pressed against her forehead as she gave him gentle kisses along his neck. It felt not dissonant to their time in the astral, joined in every way, but this felt somehow more intimate. To hold him within her, and still have him hold her safely in his arms — a perfect balance she could hardly fathom.

“Kiss me,” Gale breathed. “Please.”

Tav did as asked, fingers tangled in his hair and very gently rocked her hips. He groaned, grip becoming bruising, pausing the kiss and then coming back to it again. Slowly she started to rock, then raise her hips and roll them forward until she was slowly bouncing, the slap of her skin meeting his filling the room.

Gale broke from the kiss, hands moving to the sides of her face. That same look, as if he had seen something beyond his wildest imaginings; focused, stunned and reverent. She never felt so loved in her life, she was certain.

As if she could will the same feeling into him, she pressed their foreheads together. She moaned, as he hit just right within her. Sensitive, eager and greedy she chased the sensation.

“I love you,” she gasped.

His expression crumpled, and he groaned grabbing her around the waist so she had to stop. She could feel his cock throbbing inside of her. “You are… you — I love you —“ he grunted. “Please, let me — feel you.”

She slowed her movements to a subtle rock, which rubbed against something in her that made her entire body seize up in intense sensation. He murmured affirmations to her, face buried in her hair, his hand grabbing at her ass to pull her back and forth.

“I have to feel it,” he said, need dripping from his tone, “buried in you, I must —“

Her mouth left sloppy kisses wherever she could leave them as she rutted against him. As another sweet peak approached she leaned back, bouncing just slightly to get what she needed. Gale’s eyes flicked down to her chest, to where they were joined, and back to her face. Her body started to pulse, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

It felt so good. The drag of him against her walls, the blunt intrusion as she rolled her hips. Whines fell from her lips, she closed her eyes to focus in on the sensation, head thrown back in ecstasy.

As she peaked her legs shook on either side of him, hips moving out of pure instinct for more as she felt herself tighten around him. Uncontrollable pulses, grabbing and sucking him as far as she could talk him and a gush of wetness that added deliciously lewd sounds.

Gale seemed to stop breathing for a moment, before something in him snapped. He grabbed her hips, and with bent knees and feet planted on the soft sheets began fucking up into her.

More ruthless than she had expected, desperate and selfish and needy. It was nearly enough to get her to the edge again. Grunts from somewhere in the back of his throat joined her shocked cries telling him ‘yes’ over and over again.

He watched as he disappeared inside of her, mouth open as he panted, and then finally he broke.

With a swiftness she didn’t expect he pulled out of her, but his arms came around in a caging embrace so he still rubbed against her wet folds. He whined, as his hips jerked without any sort of pattern, punctuated by the hot splashes of him coming. Sticky, wet and warm.

His body shuddered as it passed, but he did not let go of her as he caught his breath. When she lifted her head to look at him, his head was tilted back and eyes closed as he recovered. She kissed his cheek, and he opened one eye to look at her, a smile blooming on his lips.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered.

“And you enjoyed every moment.”

“‘Enjoyed.’” He repeated. “Very light way to put it.”

“Then how would you describe it?”

“Hm,” he breathed. “Having trouble thinking currently. I will get back to you.”

“Now that’s a real accomplishment,” Tav laughed. “I’ve rendered Gale of Waterdeep utterly speechless.”

He laughed, one eye peeking open again before he playfully kissed her on the cheek. As she nestled back into his arms, she knew they would have to break away soon to clean up the mess they had made. But for just a moment she cherished the sound of his heartbeat, calming down and steadying with his breath.

“The first of a thousand nights.” He murmured.

“Hopefully more.”

“I’ll have the rest of your nights, if you’ll allow it.”

“They’re yours.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

#bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of Waterdeep x Tav #bg3 gale fic #gale smut #gale fanfic

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gnomishcunning · 6 months

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Hi! Speaking of requests - can I ask for your hcs on Rolan and physical touch? I feel like he's touch-starved but of course would hide it and deny it. Could be sfw or nsfw, however you prefer!

i completely agree that rolan's touch-starved, so this series of headcanons started from that and kinda bloomed into it's whole own thing. i hope you enjoy!

in general-

when you're fighting for your life in hell and then desperately trying to survive the long road from elturel to baldur's gate, some little things fall to the wayside. like processing your emotions, or safe and healthy self-reflection. subsequently, rolan doesn't realize he's touch-starved until he arrives in baldur's gate.

the first inkling he gets is when his apprenticeship to Lorroakan starts. it's the time he's spent away from Cal and Lia in a long while. while at first he enjoys the novelty of privacy and his own room, he's used to laying sandwiched between the two through the night, while Cal snores and Lia tosses and turns.

he sleeps like shit, those first few nights in the tower. the only thing that eventually gets him to sleep is when he starts collapsing into his bed from exhaustion, between working the front counter at Sorcerous Sundries and dealing with Lorroakan's... everything.

it starts to dawn on him with time, the absolute lack of friendly touch in his life. there's no cackling Lia leaning on his shoulder and tugging at his robes, straightening the silver of his apprentice's mantle. there's no fretting Cal, pressing food into his hands or gently nudging his side when he starts getting snippy.

in turn, there's nobody for him to fret over. he can't grab the back of Lia's robes before she charges into danger or trips over her own feet, he can't help Cal with his hair in the morning or ruffle his little brother's hair.

he should be reveling in the freedom, but it's just.

lonely.

he hates the fact he's lonely, he hates the fact he misses a time in his life that was so difficult for him and his family

i can totally see it being a bit of a wake-up call for him, when he realized he'd rather risk his life on the road with his siblings, rather than serve as Lorroakan's apprentice.

the issue doesn't get resolved until Lorroakan's dead, and his sibling move into the tower. thankfully, Rolan isn't put into a position where he needs to verbalize his loneliness. he and his siblings end up kind of clinging to each other - sleeping in the same room, fussing over each other more than necessary - until the netherbrain's defeat, when there isn't an immediate threat to their lives looming on the horizon

casually-

Rolan can be surprisingly touchy. it's an act that's constrained to the ones he loves and very close friends (primarily Cal and Lia, but Tav slips in there too), and he usually disguises it as fussing or his big-brother instincts.

with Lia, he's surprisingly playful. poking, prodding, the occasional horn-grab when she's being particularly annoying. those two can argue like no tomorrow, but it's almost always followed up by a friendly punch to the shoulder.

he's a little gentler with Cal, which stems from the fact both he and Lia view him as the little brother. ruffling his hair, straightening his leather jerkin. very rarely, when he accomplishes a difficult spell, or Cal accomplishes something cool - they'll shamelessly exchange high-fives. Lia almost always calls em both dorks.

with Tav? Tav's a fringe case. they're the only person outside his siblings he can call his friend, which is terribly embarrassing for an Archmage. So Rolan basically vacillates between hot and cold.

he won't go out of his way to find reasons to touch them, he's careful to maintain his and Tav's personal space. they had a tadpole in their head, he doesn't want to accidentally cross any lines about newly-held bodily autonomy. but if the excuse arises from circumstance? well. he'd be remiss to not to comfort his friend.

he fusses, like with Lia and Cal. it's probably a good thing, since Tav has a tendency to throw themselves headfirst into all sorts of danger, and that probably doesn't change post-netherbrain.

he'll clap a hand on their shoulder when they come by Sorcerous Sundries, guide them to sit down and take some time in his office to chat and catch up. gods know when the last time they slowed down - it's his way of insuring they stay out of danger, for at the last half hour they can sit still.

he'll inquire about their business, happily make them a cup of tea, sit down nearby on a sofa or chair. not enough to edge into their personal space, but within easy reaching distance. their cup is never empty, and his fingers will brush theirs when he moves to refill their tea.

if Tav's upset for whatever reason, he won't hesitate to offer a shoulder to cry on, or even a hug. Tav saved his life multiple times over, he'll offer whatever little comforts he can - while silently swearing to hex whoever made them cry. his quiet grumbles make Tav laugh, and he counts that as a win.

if rolan has romantic feelings for tav-

Hahahahaha ohno.

he was hot and cold beforehand? now he's just hot. like, constantly blushing, genuinely delighted to see Tav and seemingly incapable of being chill about it. he's needy, and in terrible denial about it.

his fussiness gets turned up to a 10, and through the right lens, it's almost protective. the friendly hand on Tav's shoulder turns into 'whenever they're in his immediate vicinity'. friendly pats, guiding hands on their back or elbow if they're maneuvering through a crowd

A lot of things are offered under the guise of being a gentleman. if they're somewhere in public with notable people, he'll offer his arm to 'escort' them. he's the Archmage of Ramazith's Tower accompanying the Hero of Baldur's Gate, it's the least he can do!

i like to imagine Rolan thinks he has perfect control over his tail, when in reality, it's the exact opposite. he subconciously emotes all the goddamn time.

this a big problem, when he's interacting with Tav, because they're (a) his friend, and (b) his crush. it tends to curl in the space between them when Tav stands nearby, and if they're sitting down it'll loop around their ankle without him noticing. the spade typically won't stay still, and it's usually Tav's giggling as it flicks over their skin that clues him in to his faux-pas.

he ends up spending a lot of time lying about tiefling body language if Tav's not one.

if they are? Well. He practically invents a new shade of red with how deep he blushes

it really isn't hard to tell rolan has feelings for you, because he's kinda. all over you, seeking physical touch in a way that supersedes what he's expressing with his words. just don't tell him, bc he'll probably spontaneously combust and then never leave the tower, ever again

when the confession finally comes? he's stuttering and red-faced, but he manages the words, and when Tav wraps their arms around his neck, he just. kinda collapses, wrapping his arms around their waist, burying his face in their hair, purring up a storm. he's spent too long dreaming about the way they would feel against him to maintain any pretenses of being above it all.

in a relationship-

finally finally finally, Rolan can be needy without excuse or embarrassment.

learning Tav returned his feelings was genuinely a relief, because he wasn't sure how long he could maintain the facade. like he wasn't already blatantly transparent in the first place buddy

if they're in his vicinity, He's Touching Them

holding their hand, wrapping his tail around their ankle, gently embracing them from behind while they're making dinner. If you sit in separate chairs, he's scooting closer so he can nudge your knee with his own under the table, or caress their thigh.

Tav's not even safe when sleeping. Rolan will migrate across the bed through the night to find them. please be prepared to wake up in a tangle of limbs, with tails and horns in uncomfortable places.

Given how big Rolan is with physical affection, it's no surprise it's one of his biggest love languages as well, in terms of receiving. please, give him affection.

this man melts for the little things. like when Tav strokes his hand with their thumb when holding hands, or carding their fingers through his hair, or scratching at the base of his horns

it's embarrassingly easy to get him to start purring

the thing that gets him to blurt out 'i love you' for the first time, probably no more than a month into the relationship, was when Tav came up behind him and started working his shoulders after a long day hunched over his desk

#rolan #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #bg3

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