#so they just keep doing damp courses

[deeisace]

Pretending the rush of the road outside is that of the sea instead

[misserabella]

c*m hub

ellie williams x fem! reader

💋making cash and making love!

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, dom! ellie, sub! reader, use of sex platform, strap on sex (r! receiving), hair pulling, choking, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, begging, praising, teasing, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, pussy slaps, messy sex, oral sex (r! receiving), mouth fucking w fingers (r! receiving), degradation…

old collab w/ @abbyscherry that got taken down. thanks again for this amazing work love!!❤️

KEEP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! BOYCOTT THOSE WHO LET THIS GENOCIDE HAPPEN!

how you can help

“yeah just like that baby, oh fuck. bounce on my cock.” your moans were filling your room, one of ellie’s hands on your ass, guiding you up and down on her strap, fucking you so deep you could feel it on your cervix. “so fucking good for me. taking my cock so good…”

you slammed your hips harder down against her own, making her groan as the back of the strap rubbed against her clit.

“that’s it. ride my dick. atta fucking girl…” you whimpered. the image was so dirty, ellie pointing at your pussy swallowing her strap hole with her phone, your white cream dripping down the length of her cock onto the base on a white ring. ellie could almost taste it on her tongue. taste you. maybe if you were a good girl for her she could clean you all up later. “she’s greedy huh? greediest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever seen” you moaned, fucking yourself harder onto her, your thighs burning. you couldn’t stop. it felt so good…

“els” you whimpered softly, your weak arms wrapped around her neck, your nimble fingers sliding through her damp hair, tugging just enough to tear a grunt from her lips.

“come on baby speak up, what do you want? you want me to fuck you open for all of them to see?” her deep voice muttered against the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise that you’d proudly wear for everyone to see. her eyes latched onto your beautiful breasts, bouncing with every little jump you took on her cock.

“daddy—”

ellie couldn’t help but smirk, her auburn eyebrows curving.

“daddy, huh?” she chuckled, seeing your cheeks turn red. “that’s right baby, i’m your fucking daddy.” her hips thrusted upwards, making you let out the most wonderful moan she has ever heard as the tip of her cock reached your most sensitive spots. “what do y’all think? should daddy give it to her?” she asked to those who were watching her stream, smirking at the donations and money coming through saying that yes, she should totally fuck your brains out.

wordlessly, you’re nodding your head against hers, not even looking at the donations that endlessly flow, and your lips are pressing random kisses to her neck. The sounds of your small ‘yes yes yes’ chants echoing in her ears.

ellie chuckled. “y’all are too good to her. does she deserve it though? do you deserve it babygirl?” she asked, low, sultry. you could cum just by the sound of her voice.

“please daddy, i’ll be good. i’ll be a good girl.” you begged.

“course you will baby, look at you. fucked out and dumb on my cock already”

“want it. want all of it.” your pleading puppy eyes stared into her greenish ones, grinding yourself down with her cock deep inside of you, making your mind and vision dizzy. it felt so good. to feel her like this.

“yeah? you want it?” you nodded, your back arching as one of her hands came up to your chest to cup your right tit, thumb and index pinching your nipple. “then lay on your back for me, baby.” she slightly pushed you until you were falling on your back, whimpering when you felt her cock slide out of your aching and soaked pussy. you needed her back in. needed her deep. as deep as she could reach.

your eyes were wide but hooded, your body shivered as her fingers trailed down your stomach, across your hip bones and between your legs, where she aimed the phone closer, giving them a good view of your pussy. those hazel green eyes focused on the screen, mouth watering at the sight of her fingers so effortlessly peeling apart your folds, groaning out a soft “fuck” as she watches your hole clench around nothing, your slick dripping. “look at her, i told ya, so fuckin’ needy for more” she rasps out.

a scream rips your throat at the slap she gives to your cunt, making your back arch.

“she really needs it, huh?” next thing you felt? her cock gliding through your folds, teasing you, bumping against your clit. it was so fucking big and thick it always hurt to take it, but it hurt so good… you wanted her to break you over and over again after the first time she filled you up with it, begging her to go harder, to use you. and she had. so good.

you cried out. “that’s it baby. let them hear you.”

“please daddy, please…”

she clicked her tongue. “nuh-uh baby. don’t beg me. beg them.” she smirked, pointing the camera at your face. the chat went crazy at your fucked out expression and teary eyes.

you gulped, staring right into the camera. “please. fuck me please.” you whined, moaning when ellie’s hips thrusted against your cunt, the tip of her cock rubbing against your puffy throbbing clit.

“so fucking needy” she grits out, one hand gripping your hip, and the other still holding the phone somewhat still. “i might as well give it to her, don’t y’all think?” she smirked at the positive comments. and you let out a gasp when she slid in in a quick and harsh thrust, all the way to the base.

“fuck!” you screamed. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out as she started to slowly fuck you on her cock, her hips moving so swiftly.

“thaaats it. taking it so good. nice and deep baby.” you were a moaning mess. you were so full.

“ ‘s too big! too big!” you whimpered, feeling your walls squeezing the silicone. ellie groaned. she believed she could feel you, sucking her right in.

“too big baby? is my cock too big for your little pussy?” she inquired. “look at you, whining about it yet you’re milking me dry. fuck” the back of the strap was rubbing against her clit. “look so good taking it, honey. such a good girl for daddy.” you moaned. one of her hands took a grip of your leg, pushing it against your chest, her cock now reaching deeper, kissing your cervix. your eyes rolled back. she was in so deep.

“fuck me, daddy. harder.” you begged, and she groaned.

“fucking slut. can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” a harsh thrust had you screaming. “you want it baby? want me to break this pretty little pussy open on my dick?” you nodded. “words.” she spat, and your lips parted.

“yes! yes please, daddy.”

scoffing under her breath, she mutters out something along the lines of ‘just a dirty girl’ or ‘too dumb to think’ you weren’t exactly sure anymore, not with how good her cock felt— how good she felt. “look at you, fuckin’ taking my cock so well, shit” She chokes out, the hand she has on your leg, gripping harder. “made to take my fuckin’ cock”

“can’t! els s’too much, please” you wail, fingernails bluntly digging into her arm, leaving crescent moons in your wake.

“stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” she grunted, pistoning inside you. the chat was going crazy at the sight of your pussy sucking in her cock, the silicone drenched in your juices. you were screaming at this point. “so fucking loud.” she groaned, stuffing two of her fingers down your throat. “there. you just needed something to keep that pretty little mouth of yours busy with, hm? come on darling, open up.” you followed, open up further for her and relaxing your throat, gagging when she pushed them even deeper. “thaats it. gag on my fingers, doll.” there was spit dribbling down your chin as she abused your mouth and cunt. you felt so full. your eyes welled up with tears, they flickered between her hazel green ones and the camera that was capturing the lewd image of your cunt swallowing her whole. “fuck. wanna fuck a baby into you, doll. wanna fill you up. wanna leave you dripping for a week with my cum.”

your cunt clenched around her cock, humming in agreement around her fingers at her obscene words. ellie simply chuckles at the way you continue to gag on her fingers, unable to say anything other than making gargled sounds of agreement. “course you’d want that, to be round with my kids, huh? feel my cum filling your pussy, hm?”

the thought of it alone had you whimpering around her fingers, tears rolled uncontrollably down your already tear stained cheeks as you nodded your head as quick as lightening. “yeah, i’ll make you a mama— fuck. you’ll make the prettiest mama, all swollen with my kids. maybe i’ll fuck two into you, hm? would you like that baby? give me twins? make me a daddy?”

all you could really do was nod pathetically. “answer me.” she grunted, pulling her fingers out of your mouth, making you whimper. you missed them.

“yes, yes, please yes…”

“such a dirty little slut” you whined, your hips pushing against the harsh thrust that she gave you, seeking more.

“give it to me daddy. please give me your cum.” ellie moaned, fucking you harder. needier.

the wet squelches of your pussy taking her cock were filling the room along with your choked out moans. knowing that thousands of people were actually watching you right now as ellie fucked the conscience out of you had your cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson.

you could feel that well-known devastating warmth spreading on your stomach, feeling pressure on your spine. you started bucking your hips against hers, seeking for her to reach deeper. you looked desperate. like an animal in heat. maybe you were. so desperate to cum you were trembling. shaking under her hold. the pings of donations were deafening. “you hear that baby? hear how much they want you? but you’re mine, aren’t you? fucking mine.” you nodded. “say it.”

“i’m yours. yours daddy, yours.” you slurred, feeling cock drunk. so close to cumming. your cunt was pulsing. she could almost feel it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna milk my cock, hm?” you moaned. “yeah that’s right. tight fucking pussy. my pussy. my fucking pussy.”

“wanna make you a daddy” you hiccup. “i’ll make you a daddy” that only makes her fuck you faster, harder, cutting off your moans with every thrust. “ellie, gonna… gonna cum!” you somehow managed to babble in between sobs and whimpers.

“yeah, fucking right.” she moaned, feeling her own high approaching by the way the back of the strap rubbed her swollen and throbbing clit. quickly removing her hand and grip on your leg, she places the same hand lightly around your throat, enjoying the way your eyes widen. “gonna give it to daddy, baby?” she chuckled, fingers twitching against your neck.

you nodded, using your own hand to put more pressure on hers. “more…”

the noise she made was somewhere between a breathless chuckle or grunt, you weren’t really sure but she inhaled sharply through her nose. “you really are fuckin’ dirty aren’t you?” she growled, fingers tightening around your neck just enough to have your lips parting and back arching. the lack of air in your lungs only turned you on even more. “c’mon pretty, give it to daddy like the good girl you are” she didn’t have to ask twice. before you know it moans were spilling from your lips as your walls choked her cock, pulsing and creaming all over the silicone as she fucked you through it, camera focused on the way your cum dribbled out of your hole. “good girl. good fucking girl.” she grunted, feeling her high approaching by just the sight alone. “fuck. gonna cum baby. gonna cum inside this tight little pussy. gonna fuck a baby into you. fuck, fuck, fuck!” she moaned. you begged for it. tears swelling in your eyes.

“inside daddy please, cum inside!” you whimpered, feeling her thrust one, two, three more sloppy times before she was grunting and cumming all over her strap.

“fuuuuuuck.” she groaned, fucking herself through it, using you like a little fuck toy. you moaned when she finally stilled, breathing ragged and hazel eyes glasses over in lust.

the pings of donations wouldn’t stop coming. fuck. she was gonna spoil the shit out of you after this.

and maybe she could start now.

“take the phone.” she ordered, handing you the it. your shaky hands took it, your vision turning white for a moment as she pulled out of you. you whimpered. feeling empty. you hoped she would fuck you again. even stay inside and let you cockwarm her.

you watched through the screen, the camera was focused on her exposed chest, perky little breasts making your mouth water. you wanted to suck on them. then, she slowly got onto her stomach and in between your legs, hazel eyes staring up at you and into the camera. you bit down onto your lip, spreading your legs wider for her, to what she hummed. she looked at your pussy. at your swollen and glistening pussy, and groaned. “so fucking wet…” you moaned when the feeling of warm spit pooled in between your folds. she was slowly dribbling onto your cunt. her hand found your pussy to spread the wetness around and expose your twitching hole just to spit on it. you whined, your hips bucking against her face, what made her chuckle. “eager, aren’t we?” and then her tongue was on you, and you were moaning, the phone tilting upwards as your grip staggered. she sucked on your clit and let go with a pop, her free hand coming up to straighten the camera for you. “keep it still or i’ll stop.” she threatened, and your eyes rolled back. there it was. that sultry voice of her that made you drip.

the hand that wasn’t holding onto the phone threads through her auburn hair, tugging just enough that she hums into your pussy, willingly letting you push her head closer. your breath shaky as you continue to watch her eagerly slurp and suck at your folds through the little cracked screen. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted”

you were looking at the chat, reading the messages that the people posted as ellie slowly yet hungrily ate you out. you were biting on your lip, rocking your hips against her face, making her grunt. she looked at the camera, licking you up from hole to clit, sucking on it and making you moan. you knew she was doing it for you, to rile you up.

“fuck, ellie.” you sighed as she suckled on your clit, slurping up your slick and kissing your folds. “your fingers. your fingers please.” you pleaded. and she moaned, one of her fingers quickly finding your entrance and prodding against it, teasing you. “daddy, please.. i’ve been so good”

“you guys think she has? think she’s been good enough for daddy?” the comments filled the screen, the donations ringing. ellie grinned against your folds. she knew what that meant. “well then…” and suddenly she was pushing her middle finger in, making you gasp.

“fuck!” you cried out, your hips bucking against her face to push her deeper. she continued lapping at your pussy, looking at your expressions. she loved to se you fall apart under her tongue.

“yeah?” she inquired. she knew she was good. “that good, huh?” she teased, curling her finger against your g spot.

your fingers tangled tighter in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp. “so good daddy, always” you knew this only riled her up more, made her needier for you. she was thrusting against the sheets, rutting her puffy clit and soaked pussy against the back of her strap for some friction as she pushed in a second finger. you sighed. “yes, fuck. yes just like that.” she hummed as you cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night approaching at great speed. “gonna cum again, oh fuck, gonna cum again!” you whimpered, and she went faster, sucked harder on your clit.

“i know, can feel it. pussy’s squeezing around my fingers, fuck” she groans hoarsely. “let daddy have it yeah? c’mon, please” she’s begging. groaning when your legs tighten around her head, keeping her caged in.

it’s happening before you can even ask her to cum, like you normally would. your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that she’s hissing, the movements of her tongue and fingers still fucking into you at a hard pace.

she devours you. eats you up. slurps on your cum and satiates herself. you always taste like fucking heaven.

both your worlds disconnect for a moment. you forget about the stream, and almost about breathing as you ride out your orgasm, thighs shaking at the sides of ellie’s face. and when you both come to your senses, you’re spent. and now thousands of dollars richer.

and maybe and just maybe, once the stream is over, you two fuck for hours on end. this time for yourselves, until you’re both passing out on each other’s arms and with cum in between your thighs.

“love you, els”

“i love you, baby”

-

a/n; hi babies, i’ve missed you so much! have a couple of works on drafts for you so you’ll be hearing from me soon :))

also ty so so so so much for the 9k followers i’m so happy i don’t deserve y’all😭❤️

[6gumi]

oh my! what a naughty bunny!

synopsis﹒honkai star rail men n’ their bunny girlfriend !

pairings﹒boothill 、sunday 、dr ratio 、aventurine 、gallagher x bunny fem!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. unedited. mild dacryphilia ( dr ratio 、sunday ) 、mating press ( gallgaher . . . becuz he’s big ) 、spanking ( dr ratio ) 、fingering ( aventurine ) 、cunilingus ( aventurine ) 、blowie ( sunday ) 、dirty talk ( boothill ) 、 some of them tug on ur ears :> 、petnames ( bunny 、sugar 、etc ! )

note﹒i am slowly catchin’ up in honkai star rail so i decided tew write these ! ! :33 been thinkin’ hard about dis anyways so . . it doesn’t hurt to write a lil sumn ! mistakes might be found . . | reblogs are highly appreciated. feel free to send me an ask if you would like to talk t’me or send a thirst/rq ! — millie ♡

୨୧ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

boothill couldn't help but chuckle at your pathetic attempts to resist him, you were the one who wanted him first and begging for him to fuck you . . . why are you changing your mind now? your struggles were utterly adorable and only further fueled his desire. “oh sugar," he muttered gently, reaching out to cup your chin. his eyes softened as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. the cowboy knew your body was aching for release, the desperation and excitement coursing through your veins. "i can’t understand ya, baby," he whispered, leaning in close to your ear. "do you want me or nah? ‘cause i’ll walk ‘outta this room if you keep whinin’ and grindin’ against me like this, be vocal. tell me what ‘cha need.”

“n—no! don’t wanna!”

“don’t wanna what, bunny? use ya words.”

“i . . don’t want you to walk out . .”

“good girl. see, wasn’t s’ hard to use your words, yeah?” boothill chuckled, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he met your gaze. His eyes darkened with desire, but there was still a playful twinkle within. “such a slutty bunny,” the cowboy gave you a wicked grin, his hand trailing down your exposed stomach, stopping just above your panties. the fabric was damp from your arousal, and he couldn't help but smirk. “listen baby, ima reward you if you're a good girl . . a real pleasure show for a real naughty bunny like you."

your ears twitched at his words, squealing when he pulled you even closer. “am not a naughty bunny . . .” “yeah? ya sure?” his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "we’ll see about that. we’ll see how long you’ll last with my cock inside this pussy. trust me, sugar . . . you'll enjoy it more than you ever thought possible. just like the slutty and naughty bunny you are.”

୨୧ 𝐒𝐔����𝐃𝐀𝐘

“now now, don’t cry," sunday soothed, his voice low and sultry. “we’ve got a lot of time tonight, sweetheart. maybe i’ll teach you a few lessons on how to suck on my cock properly . . you’re quite sloppy, my beloved.” sunday echoed, his monotone voice full of amusement as he leaned down, capturing your tearful gaze with his own. he gently lifted your chin, his thumb wiping away a stray crystal tear. his dick twitched in your throat when he kept his gaze on your teary eyed face . . fuck. he wanted to see more of that. “beloved . . .” he cooed, feeling the rush of pleasure course through his body as he thrust into your warm, wet throat . . his hand slowly wrapping itself around both your cute little rabbit ears, tugging you forward. he could feel you struggle, the way you gagged and choked on his length, it sent a thrill of excitement through him. your boyfriend gripped your ears tighter, guiding the movement as his thrusts grew eager.

“that’s it, angel, take it. take all of it.” sunday murmured, his voice hoarse with lust. at this point, he could feel his release building up, the tension coiling in his gut. “swallow it, choke on it, make it yours." the halovian male slammed into your poor little throat, knowing he owes you warm tea and breakfast the next morning! your moans were heavily muffled by his thick cock filling your throat. the mere sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by sunday’s grunts and your whines, increasing the tears that spilled from your pretty eyes. the wave of ecstasy crashing over your boyfriend and you knew it. his orgasm hit him like a foreign train, flooding your throat with his essence . . . holding you in place by your bunny ears.

“mmh . . . that was good, my little angel." his hand traced over your cheek, “but we might have to work on your gag reflex.”

୨୧ 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

SMACK! a loud sound reverberated around the room . . your fluffy white tail twitched in veritas’ hold. with a force of movement, he pulled you up . . . using your tail as a leverage as he chuckled, smacking your ass again . . . you could almost feel it warming up. “naughty bunny you are. you thought it was a good idea to send me erotic pictures?” veritas’ fingers worked on your skirt, pulling it up and off. he discarded it on the floor of your shared room, leaving you in your underwear. dr ratio couldn’t help but bite his lip at the sight of your tears streaming down your face, murmuring pleas for him to pound you. aeons . . . you were such a naughty bunny. the naughtiest bunny he’d ever come across. " . . . foolish girl. your desires have consequences," he growled, “you’re a naughty slut. it’s like you’re begging me to pound you when you cry like that . . .” he adjusted himself, positioning himself at your entrance.

he raised a brow, admiring your precious submission he yearned for. the sight of you pleading for more, bunny ears twitching, breasts bouncing invitingly, your sparkly-like eyes that produced tears, sent shivers down his spine. he leaned up, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. his tongue delved deep, tasting his bunny’s need and desire. dr ratio wanted to push you further, testing how far he could take you before breaking point. pulling away, his large hands found themselves on your ass again, running his hands along your flesh . . , raising it for another smack. “you’re insatiable, aren't you? let me remind you again, girl, bad bunnies get punished for being naughty. or have you forgotten that?”

୨୧ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

your boyfriend’s eyes lit up at the sight of your pussy, glistening with desire. he loved every part of you, basking in the warmth of your body as he chuckled . . . reaching up to caress your little ears that he wouldn’t trade for anything else. “damn, you're soaked," he murmured, licking his lips. "i can't wait to taste you.” aventurine moved closer between your legs, pushing your thighs apart further with a smirk, flicking your bud with his thumb. “spread them wider for me, bunny." aventurine’s eyes widened as he saw how wet you were. he had to fight the urge to dive headfirst into your pussy. he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "you’re so ready for me, aren't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. with an eager nod, he slowly slipped his two fingers inside, filling you up pure lustrous intent. “m—more ‘turine . . .” a soft chuckle emitted from your boyfriend as he lowered his head, licking your inner thighs. "i know bunny, i know what i’m doing.” but yet, he wanted to hear you beg for it, to know that you desired him as much as he did you.

“c’mon baby . . . say this for me.” his tongue flicked against your outer lips, tasting your sweet nectar. "say . . “please, aven” . . .” he begged himself. "eat me out." his eyes fluttered open, narrowing dangerously . . . he couldn’t help but devour you with his gaze. “ . . please aven . . ‘w—want you to eat me out.” “that’s my good bunny.” aventurine’s tongue darted painfully slowly in and out of your pussy, teasing your walls. as he licked and sucked your clit, his fingers explored the depths inside your pussy, the gambler wanted to touch every inch of you, to know your body better than his own. he was determined to make you cum hard, just like he knew you'd make him. although in the back of his mind, he knew he had to fill out the paperwork that’s been due for days! but right now, all he cared about was making his cute bunny scream his name. he wanted to make you forget about everything else in the world in that dumb little head of yours except for him.

୨୧ 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑

you were so small against him. not only was he obsessed with your cute lil’ rabbit features, he was also obsessed with how cute and adorable you were against him, legs he had to restrain with his own hands due to you moving around too much . . . your cries echoed in the room, punctuating your passionate lovemaking. each groan fueled his dominance, reinforcing his love for you. gallagher gently placed his hand over the bulge on your belly, biting his lip at the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of your belly, grunting when he caught sight of your ears twitching. shit, you were adorable. “fuck, you’re fuckin’ tiny, baby, i could break you whenever i please if i wanted to.” his cock reached the deepest parts of your pussy in this position, knowing he wouldn’t last long with your legs pinned up against the mattress.

with a tug of your ears, gallagher savored the sound of your cries, your body folding under his weight . . your pussy taking his big dick so well heightened his arousal, driving him further into depravity. his thrusts grew more fervent, each one a declaration of love. “. . ‘m foldin’ you left and right, baby. see how good your pussy sucks it in?” with a growl, his hand gripped your ears lightly . . . sparking something primal within him. gallagher kissed you roughly like a starved man, bruising lips colliding fiercely with yours as his tongue invaded your mouth. the harsh mating press position made it harder for you to move around, trying to keep up with his harsh movements and thrusts at the same time! heavy breathing filled the room, punctuated by occasional cries of lust and pleasure. gallagher was taking what he wanted, his lil’ bunny girlfriend.

© 6GUMI. please do not modify 、translate 、share my works on other platforms 、or consider them as yours.

[monstersholygrail]

I am such a nuzzler (I’m severely touched starved). But I just love me a good nuzzle with some sweet cuddling and maybe a bit more than that.

Imagine Werewolf bf who welcomes and encourages your clingy behavior and all the nuzzling that comes with it. Not only because he loves the attention but because he is just as obsessed with you as you are him.

You get this sort of shy look in your eye when the urge arrives and Werewolf bf notices it instantly. His arms move on their own as they spread out wide. Allowing you to immediately dive into his embrace. Nuzzling your way up his furry body till you burrow into his chest.

Loud purrs emanate from Werewolf bfs chest as his arms move to wrap around you, practically squishing you to his chest. You both adore the hard secure touch of each other’s hold. His purrs only growing louder as you move up and nuzzle into his neck, nosing brushing along his marking spot.

His cock can help but harden whenever you do this. It’s his instant weakness. The idea of you two marking each other. Of being bound and getting these cuddles for the rest of your life. It sounds like heaven to him.

And of course when you’re cuddling with a Werewolf bf, cuddling doesn’t stay cuddling for long. With your delicious shapely body pressed so tightly against him, he can’t be blamed for his actions that follow.

As you two continue to squirm against each other, practically wanting to crawl into each other’s skin, it’s simply not Werewolf bfs fault that his erection just so happens to grind into your lovely pussy. He can feel the growing dampness through your panties and he growls out his approval. Always so wet for him you are.

The whine that leaves you vibrates through his skin, only serving to make Werewolf bf even harder. His hands never leave their place around your body, not even as they slide down and so gently push your panties off to the side. He wouldn’t dare take his hands off of you when in need of such closeness.

Making sure to maintain your cuddles while he rolls his cock easily inside your addictive wet heat. Werewolf bf tightens his hold on you to the point where you can barely move as he starts moving your bodies in a steady rhythm.

Your bodies rocking together as noises of pleasure fall from your lips and spill right into each other’s skin. Not an inch of space between you and neither of you would have it any other way. Werewolf bf’s claws scratch along your back and you cry out, toes curling at the added sensation.

Burying your hands in his fur you move as best you can, eagerly sucking his cock back inside you with every thrust. Wanting all of him as close to you as possible. Rough grunts leave your bf as his pace picks up, fulfilling your need as he does all the others.

Werewolf bf keeps his grip firm but gives you the room to move faster and meet the snap of his hips. You immediately jump at the chance, drool dripping onto his fur as you bounce sloppily on his huge girth. Wanting to feel just how roughly he can split you open and stretch your weeping cunt.

As you both move together it doesn’t take long for you both to explode, clenching down on his length and milking his cock for all it’s worth as he shoots spurt after spurt of hot cum deep inside your walls. Werewolf bf shivers in return, his body buzzing as your essence coats his member and your walls stay firmly implanted around him.

Your limp form sags happily back into his chest. Nipping playfully at his neck and resulting in Werewolf bf’s cock twitching inside you as he snaps his jaw at your neck in retaliation. You laugh lightly, nuzzling back into him, glad to be even closer to him as his softening cock stays inside you.

Werewolf bf moves his hands up and down your back and over your body, caressing every inch of you. Loving how your body trembles and leans into it in response.

Yeah, Werewolf bf wouldn’t give up your nuzzles and clingy behavior for anything. He’s got everything he needs right here.

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 24: Touch Deprived

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“What time does your flight land tomorrow?” Your voice echoes loudly through the receiver, pacing around the room with your phone pressed to your ear.

“Pretty late,” Chan replies with a click of his tongue. “Past midnight, I think. I’ll just get a ride from the airport back to the apartment.”

You let out a heavy sigh, stopping at the foot of your bed, before hoisting yourself onto the mattress and staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Chan says. “I thought I’d be home for dinner, too. I promise I’ll take you out this weekend.”

“It’s not that,” you respond, shutting your eyes momentarily. “I just miss you. I wish you were here in bed with me. I don’t care if we spend the whole weekend indoors.”

Chan lets out a breathy chuckle at your words, running a hand through his damp hair and sprawling his legs out in front of him. The warm cotton of a hotel bathrobe drapes over his sculpted torso, and he toys with the wraparound string before speaking again.

“You really miss me, huh?”

“Of course I miss you. It’s been months since I’ve seen you. Even longer since I’ve kissed you.”

“Or touched you,” Chan practically interrupts, earning a silent pause from you. He smirks when the phone call grows quiet, and then he leans further back against his stack of pillows.

“I guess it’s been a while,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks grow red at the utterance of his words.

“Don’t get all shy on me,” Chan retorts. “I know why you’re calling. You’re kinda bad at making it less obvious, you know.”

“My vibrator broke,” you blurt out, and Chan’s lips pull into a knowing smile. “I haven’t been able to get off without you even once. You don’t even have time to send me videos anymore. I mean, can you blame me?”

“I can’t,” he replies. “I haven’t really had time to, either. It’s not the same without you.”

You both sigh in frustration at each other's words, and a feeling of guilt suddenly overtakes you, to be calling Chan in such a needy state when he hardly even has time for himself these days. Between a packed schedule, nonstop flights and running on a few minutes of sleep, it’s no surprise he hasn’t rubbed one out in a little while- except he’s not calling you to complain about it.

“Sorry,” you say to Chan, shaking your head in disappointment. “I don’t mean to be complaining to you about this. Your schedule’s busy enough as it is, and I’m long overdue for a new toy anyway-”

“Who said I wasn’t into it?” Chan interjects, a hint of teasing in his voice. The call grows quiet again, and you can make out the faint sounds of shuffling on his end.

“Chan, are you…” you begin to say, and he merely hums in response.

“I have fifteen minutes before I have to get dressed,” Chan explains, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “You want me to talk you through it?”

A shiver runs down your spine at the suggestion, and Chan chuckles when he hears you shuffle about, too, stripping off your nightgown to just your underwear.

“Keep going,” you muse, a small smile tugging on your face as you lower your hand to the waistband of your panties.

“Get undressed for me, yeah? Spread your legs exactly the way I do it for you.”

You eagerly obey his instructions, parting your legs and pulling down your underwear so that you’re bare to the cold breeze that grazes your wetness.

“One hand,” Chan then instructs. “Touch yourself.”

You do as you’re told, snaking your left hand down to your dripping cunt to lightly circle your folds. You arch at the contact, chasing the friction supplied by the pads of your fingers, but then as though he can see you, Chan chimes in once more.

“Slowly,” Chan commands. “Rub your clit for me.”

You don’t have to respond in order to follow through with his actions, allowing your hand to graze over your entrance briefly to gather your own arousal on the tips of your index and middle fingers. You circle up to your clit, rubbing in agonizingly slow circles like he’d ordered you to, and a soft moan emits from the back of your throat when Chan groans at your shuffling.

“Fuck, baby,” Chan voices. “I don’t have much time. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“Stroke yourself,” you say to him in a pleading tone. “Finish with me.”

Chan pauses briefly, and then he glances down at his erect cock, noticeably pitching a tent under the thin fabric of his bathrobe. He peels it open to bare himself, too, and then he grips the base of his cock while you continue to work yourself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he asks in a low voice. “I want to hear everything.”

“You,” you say to him, your fingers moving a little faster now. “The way you work me with your fingers when I’m all wet for you. Or your tongue.”

“Fuck,” he interjects, his hand beginning to stroke himself almost involuntarily. He shuts his eyes as he does, imagining the same thing as you- his face buried against your mound, tongue flicking in and out of your entrance as you squirm beneath his touch. He’ll usually struggle to keep your legs parted for him, allowing them to clasp around his face as he devours you. And then when you’re trembling in anticipation for some release, he’ll pull away once more, to properly fuck you, slipping inside of you with complete ease while you beg for more.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad,” Chan whimpers. “Bet you taste so sweet for me. You want me to tongue-fuck you, yeah? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” you groan, spreading your juices around your folds and separating your two fingers, a sticky string or your arousal connecting the two still. A light sloshing sound emits from around Chan’s thick girth as he moves even faster, his hips bucking up into his fist as he imagines you.

In your shared apartment, on your side of the bed, your legs spread for him and your hand sprawled out over your throbbing sex. He imagines the way your eyebrows must arch up in pleasure, and the way your thighs must squeeze to chase the delicious friction of your own flesh, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. And then he throws his head back as he feels his cock twitch once, heavy pants escaping his lips as he groans again.

“Fuck yourself for me,” Chan orders. “Slip your fingers in and go rough.”

You do as told, finally dipping into your entrance and allowing your tight cunt to enwreathe fingers as you pump in and out in a rhythmic manner. You’re dripping wet now, desperate to cum for Chan, or with him, as wet sounds fill the room in tandem with your soft moans.

“You miss me?” Chan asks in a breathy voice. “Say it. Tell me how badly you wish it was me.”

“I miss you, baby,” you tell him. “Just wish you were here to fuck me and make up for all this lost time.”

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks, grunting with his fast-paced strokes now.

“Yeah,” you breathe back, your fingers dipping in and out of your wetness and filling you entirely.

“Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Let me hear you.”

You can feel your whole body contract when you finally reach your orgasm, your body arching up into your own hand as you tremble, a generous trickle of release finding purchase on your sheets. Chan groans when he hears you gasp for air, the call sounding muffled when you struggle to grasp it against your ear. And when he hears your pleasured gasps echo against his ear, he shuts his eyes again, his hand traveling up toward his tip as he fucks himself in rapid motions. It’s just seconds after that he reaches his own orgasm, shooting ropes of cum onto his fresh white bathrobe, and sitting up a little straighter to balance his phone in his grip.

“Fuck,” Chan remarks, chuckling lightly when he observed the mess he’s made of his bathrobe. “I really fucking miss you.”

“I miss you,” you say to him, a satisfied smile on your face.

You pause for a moment, still catching your breath, and then you let out a blissful sigh.

“Thank you,” you say to him. “I think I can wait it out another day.”

He chuckles again, hoisting himself off of his bed and sauntering toward the bathroom.

“Of course, baby. Hey, I have to get ready, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, yeah?”

You nod, a heavy tiredness overtaking your languid body, and then you simply hum in response, rolling onto your side.

Chan smiles, peeling off his bathrobe, as he hears your chest rise and fall with every exhausted breath.

“I love you,” he says, smiling, his phone pressed to his ear still. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And I promise we’ll make up for all the lost time.”

*

[syluss-littlecrow]

massagers and misunderstandings

<sylus x fem!reader>

Haphazardly leaving your little toy in Sylus's room after your playtime wasn't part of the plan.

The good news is that the vibrator was in Sylus’s room.

The bad news is that the vibrator is currently in Sylus’s hands.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, vibrator play x mirror sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex, sylus teasing the everloving shit out of you, breeding kink, (light) choking, dacryphilia, shit load of orgasms

w/c: 2.1k

a/n: shout out to the loml @rafsfishstick for helping me out with this and also giving me this fuck ass idea. Now y'all gna suffer with ME. you're welcome 🩷

Shit, shit, shit. Where is it?!

You've been flipping your whole bedroom upside down over an important missing device. You swore you kept it in the drawers of your room, or at least, you thought you did. 

Unfortunately, it went over your head that staying with Sylus for extended periods had you getting very comfortable with leaving your belongings around.

Including your vibrator. 

Well, Sylus didn't need to know about it. 

In your defense, it was lonely in the mansion without him. And when you did miss him while he was gone, you'd sneak into his room (not that he minded), lie on his bed and let his scent just engulf you completely. 

Well, you had your needs too. 

And usually you'd just keep your vibrator in your room within the mansion.

And unfortunately for you, this was not one of your usual times.

When the realisation hit you that you in fact did absentmindedly stash your toy hastily in one of his drawers during one of the nights when he told you he'd be away from town for a while, you bolted to his room, hoping, praying, that Sylus hadn't reached his chambers before you did.

The good news is that the vibrator was indeed in Sylus’s room.

The bad news is that the vibrator is currently in Sylus’s hands.

Fuck me, you think, a million useless excuses flooding in and out of your mind.

Maybe you could knock him out and snag the toy from his fingers.

Yeah, like that could ever fucking work with his level of reflexes. 

“Aren't you coming in, kitten?” 

His usual pet name sends goosebumps flooding your skin. 

“Good evening, Sylus”, you force a smile, trying to ignore the way he’s fidgeting with your vibrator. 

“This wouldn't happen to be yours, would it?” He asks, dangling the silicone vibrator before you. “I've never seen you use it before.”

You could smack the smug look off his face if you had the chance to, but for now, you force a smile, reaching out to take the device from him. 

“It's just a massager”, you lie horribly.

Of course he fucking shifts it away from your grasp.

He narrows his eyes at you and decorates his expression with a sharper smirk. 

“Right, because massaging devices look unassuming like this, and you happen to decide to have a little massage session in my room?” 

Fuck. 

There's no way out of this. 

His smirk fades. He puts an arm out to beckon you closer. 

His eyes reflect tints of something else, like a reminder that you're about to turn into his prey. 

And you can't help but always fall into his trap.

“Now, won't you show me how you use your little massager, sweetie?” 

You watch him twirl the vibrator between his slender fingers, touching and feeling the buttons on his fingertips. He has your legs spread apart in front of him at the edge of the bed. You’re carefully observing your partner as it takes him barely a few minutes to figure your toy out when it buzzes to life. 

“Don't look so scared, kitten. I'm not about to eat you”, the gaze Sylus is giving you says otherwise. Unfortunately, there's a twisted stem of anticipation that's slowly flooding your veins. You wonder what he's about to do to you, and it's getting you excited. 

He smirks when his gaze lands on the small damp patch of fabric on your pussy. He wants to make it bigger. 

Sylus grazes his knuckles against your clothes pussy, and it draws a gasp from you. 

“I have to say, sweetie, your little massager here has quite the strong vibrations”, Sylus teases. His arm curls around your legs, pulling you slightly closer to him, before he presses the buzzing toy on your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you knew it was coming, you still jumped from the sensation instantly. 

You crunch your abdomen when you feel Sylus rolling the vibrator up and down your pussy, watching with sheer satisfaction at the way the dark patch on your pussy continues to grow darker and bigger. 

“How does it feel, kitten?” He asks with a smile, and you're not sure if you're getting soaked from the vibrator or from Sylus eye fucking you. 

“Tickles…” you force yourself to answer. You hear him hum from below, before your mind shuts off when he shifts the vibrator right to your clit, and applies pressure right there. 

But it's not enough.

You know he's fucking with you. He's teasing you–especially when he intentionally lowers the vibration to a dull buzz, taking away the build up, only leaving you whining for more. 

But at the moment where you're able to catch your breath, the vibration climbs in levels again, leaving you fisting the sheets and his shirt. Sylus removes his arm around your thigh, and hooks a slender on the damp piece of fabric, tugging it outwards.

“Should we get this out of the way, sweetie? It's bothering you isn't it?” 

You nod, still trying to regulate your breathing, your mind racing at the thought of Sylus being the one pressing your vibrator on your bare, wet, sticky pussy. 

He lets you close your legs to roll the panties off your hips, only to disappear behind you for a split moment. 

His husky voice rings in your ears. 

“Open, sweetie.”

You feel his fingers brush on your chin, and he gestures to you to face the front.

You're facing the mirror. 

The view of your legs spread open, the sight of your glistening pussy right before your reflection makes you swallow hard. 

Sylus’s finger slither down to your sopping folds, spreading your pussy open. 

“So fucking pretty for me, aren't you?” 

Your fingers clutch tightly against his shirt, the desperation for him to do just anything coming out as a beg when you whisper to him, “please, Sylus.”

His other hand switches on the vibrator once more, and he aims it right on your fucking clit. It makes you jump, and before you realise it, your orgasm hits you–white engulfing your vision, the pleasure shooting through your veins at lightning speed and your pussy uselessly and desperately clenching the air. Sylus captures your lips with his, eating your fucked out moans while he drags your orgasm out, rolling the toy in circles around your clit, collecting the sheer wetness with his fingers and vibrator.

He pulls the vibrator off you, at least, momentarily, to let you descend from your high. 

Sylus watches you through the mirror–you, in tears, a small puddle just under where you're sitting and just a creamy fucking mess your pussy is. 

“So this was what you were doing when I was gone?” 

He watches the way your ears turn red.

Sylus’s fingers keep you staring at him through the reflections.

“I got lonely when you weren't here…”

“Right. I'm sorry for that, sweetie. I should make it up to you, hm?”

You couldn't even proceed to ask him how before he lifts you onto his lap, and the view before you makes you swallow harder–his cock just resting against your bare pussy. 

His lips are pressed against the shell of your ear.

“If I told you that I crave so fucking much to just see you the moment I leave, would that leave your mind at ease?” 

“No”, you mutter, then gasp when he presses his dick along your folds, dragging his cock so painfully slowly against your pussy. “Nothing is enough if it's not you being here in the flesh.”

He chuckles–it feels warm and it spreads through all over your body. 

“Greedy kitten”, is all he replies before he stretches you open, taking the gorgeous sight of you completely falling apart for him as he fits his cock in you. 

“That’s a good girl for me. You're taking me so well. Fuck, look at you swallowing me up”, he groans, greedily wanting to just keep all the wet warmth for himself. 

It has been a couple of long weeks since he was gone, and fuck was his cock quite a stretch. He fills you up so fucking good every single time.

He listens to you sigh shakily, trying to adjust. He feels the way you're squeezing his thighs with your hand.

You feel so good around him. You feel so good for him. 

You hiccup when you feel Sylus thrusts his cock right into you again. You're so fucking overstimulated, your sensitivity climbing up in hundreds, but Sylus still trails the vibrator across your clit in pulses, making your head fall back against his shoulders, your moans bouncing off the walls of his room. It doesn't help that he's forcing you to soak in the sheer perversion of view that's presented before you. 

“You're squeezing me so much, kitten”, he hisses into your ears when he feels your pussy clench around him once more. He's in fucking heaven. 

But of course, he loves playing with his prey a little more. 

The moment he feels you start flutter, he lifts the vibrator off your clit. It makes you gasp.

Then he thrusts his hips upwards, pressing against your sensitive spots. You watch the way his cock just disappears in you, all the way in, and it's starting to make you light-headed. 

“Can your little vibrator make you make that face, kitten?” 

You see the tear stains that streak down your face, your eyes still watery. Fuck, of course it doesn't. 

“Maybe”, you answer shakily, and you watch his eyes fucking glow right before you in the mirror.

Sylus laughs.

“I guess I should change that, right?” He responds. His fingers are now on your throat, and his other hand lay flat on your thigh.

“Then I'd better make sure I make you see fucking stars. Fuck you hard and good, right?” 

His fingers tighten around your throat. 

Sylus is a fucking menace.

You don't even remember the existence of your vibrator. Not when Sylus is fucking the ever-loving shit out of you from below, and that you're watching it through the fucking mirror–every thrust detailed perfectly under the lights, his fingers cutting oxygen from you from time to time. 

He's forcing you to cum with his dick. 

And it's fucking working..

Much thanks to the horrible edging he's done to you, you're a fucking overstimulated mess–so sensitive and broken that when you're about to flood, you're begging him.

“Gonna cum, Sylus, please. I'm gonna cum so much. Fuckkkk-” 

It fountains out of you and pushes him out, spraying all over the mirror and the sheets. You don't know what Sylus is muttering in your ears but you know he's fucking slapping your pussy, more fluids spraying out to his satisfaction.

After the clear fluids, only the thick cream comes after, and Sylus doesn't hesitate to slide his cock back in, filling you up once more, cream settling and slicking down his shaft with every thrust. Your thighs are still twitching from how fucking good it feels.

“Have I told you that I adore ruining you so much? Because I do adore ruining you so much, sweetie”, he groans. His face contorts in pleasure so fucking beautifully in the mirror while he bottoms out in you, his cock twitching and letting thick streams of warm cum filling you up. He lets himself stay in your pussy for a second or two, before he pulls out, only a thin string of cum linking his cock and your pussy. 

Sylus forces you to watch his fingers once again pull open your pretty folds, and thick white seeps out of your hole in loads. 

You see him plant a kiss on your temple before he effortlessly scoops you up to wash up with him.

You swear you didn’t leave it in his room this time round. You learned your lesson. When Sylus had his butler change out the soiled sheets, you had pocketed back your vibrator and kept it in a safe part of your room so Sylus wouldn’t get his hands on it again. 

At least, that’s what you thought, because the vibrator seemed to have disappeared again. 

Shit, did you have to intrude into Sylus’s room again? Well sure, he was gone for a couple of days, so you used his bed for a couple of days…but you were sure as hell that you brought the vibrator back with you when you on the day Sylus came back. 

Unsuccessful with the search in Sylus’s room, you return back to yours, wondering if the mansion had just sucked up the vibrator into thin air. 

That is, until you see Sylus on your bed.

With your vibrator in his hands. 

[hoffmansgirl]

𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗬 ━ nicholas a. chavez

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ author's note. based off this request... enjoy ♡

↱ cw. nsfw (+18)! switch!reader x switch!nicholas, begging, dirty talk, oral (m+f receiving), praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected piv, creampie, this one's kinda sweet ☹️ | wc. 2929

𝓣he last few days were pure torture for nicholas.

he just came back home from filming, gone for almost three months; three agonising, incredibly hard months. of course he was happy to see his girlfriend after such a long time. they would cuddle for hours, and she'd ask him all about the movie he was currently working on. y/n was so excited, eyes sparkling with excitement every time she spoke to him, yet she could feel the shift in her boyfriend's behaviour. something was so off.

he was more... touchy than usual. hands on her body every time and every second, kisses needier, body reacting to even the slightest touch. nicholas often found himself staring at her when she was doing casual stuff around the house, shorts riding up on her thighs as she stood on her tiptoes to get something from the cupboard, cock twitching uncomfortably in his pants.

three months. three months without sex. of course he masturbated, and of course y/n would send him a dirty picture every now and then. but it wasn't enough, not at all. and ever since he got home, he was waiting for something, anything; an occasion to push his fingers under her panties, or under her t-shirt to grab her boobs.

and y/n wasn't oblivious to it. his erection pressed against her in the most unexpected moments, he pushed into her slightly, trying to get her to notice. nicholas' desperation was so visible, but she wanted him to break. she wanted him to ask for it.

it was a friday afternoon, and instead of going out, they stayed in, deciding on watching friends.

"mind if i take a shower first?" y/n asked, walking down the stairs, eyes lighting up at the sight of her boyfriend already curled up on the couch, waiting.

"no, no. of course not", he replied mindlessly, looking through his instagram. his eyes met hers, and the sight of her standing there, smiling, almost made his stomach hurt with need.

"be right back. love you!" she ran upstairs quickly and nicholas heard the bathroom door closing shut. he exhaled, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. it's been so hard. and y/n acted as if she didn't notice the shift in his behaviour. he knew she wanted him to beg for it, but he didn't really know where to start. and most importantly, he was ashamed of feeling that way. why was sex the only think he could think about? why did it keep him up, dick hurting as she pressed her ass against him with purpose, pretending to be asleep?

before he could find the answer, y/n appeared at the top of the stairs, looking absolutely scrumptious.

face flushed from the bathroom's temperature, his t-shirt hanging on her body, ending mid-thigh, and he wondered if she even wore any panties underneath.

y/n rubbed the towel on her damp hair as she walked down the stairs. she took a seat next to nicholas on the couch, lashes fluttering as she looked up at him.

"y/n...", he started, quite unsure how to talk about his need, as his problem seemed so ridiculous.

"yes, babe?", she cocked her head, brushing a hand through her hair, throwing the towel on the floor mindlessly.

his breath hitched, usual confidence fading as he gazed at her, looking so effortlessly hot.

"i..." nicholas hesitated, and before he could think about it, his lips were already on hers, hands tugging at her - his - shirt, guiding y/n to straddle his hips. y/n melted into his touch, smiling into the kiss. "what is it, nick?" she let out between kisses, but he was all over her again, hips thrusting up to meet her thong-covered pussy.

"no, no. you have to tell me first", she whispered, pulling at nicholas' hair, causing him to groan. his eyes fluttered shut, chest heaving with each breath, cheeks flushing slightly. "what do you want?"

she grounded herself on his lap, cunt pressing on his hard-on purposely.

"fuck- i need you. need you so bad, doll", he muttered, chasing her lips with his', and she grinned, allowing him to force his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch of her as she whimpered softly. and it drove him crazy, the taste of her, the feeling of her skin against his hands, everything she did.

y/n bit on his lip, pulling away just for a second before placing wet kisses on his neck, tongue twirling around his skin, her long nails clawing at his arms.

she moved down, sucking on his nipple softly, tongue lapping at the bud, earning a satisfied groan from nicholas. she licked, sucked and bit every part of his hard chest, teasing him, playful smile on her lips.

"fuck- shit, i want- i want your mouth", nicholas whimpered, chest heaving as she worshipped him, the upper part of his body sticky from her saliva.

"but baby, i am using my mouth", she grinned, meeting his half lidded eyes before dropping to her knees between his legs. she traced the bulge in his pants with her hand, breathing deeply at the sight of him.

"suck my dick. please, just- stop teasin'", nicholas' hips lifted up from the couch as y/n tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. she took his boxers off in the process, and his cock sprang free, angry red and leaking with pre-cum. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of him, so defenceless and desperate, her own arousal soaking her black panties.

"is this why you've been acting so weird lately?" she asked, teasingly running her hands over his muscular thighs, and his cock twitched at the sensation. nicholas' head fell back against the couch, yet he kept an intense eye contact, bucking his hips up. his cock bounced, and he could almost feel her own need as she bit her lip at the sight.

"yes, yes, yes", he chanted as she stuck her tongue out, taking his dick in her hand, guiding it to her lips. "needed you so bad, doll. fuck, yes", nicholas muttered lowly at the sensation of her mouth closing around his pink tip, tongue swirling around it as if she was licking at a lollipop. she looked up at him, the sight of his well trained body making y/n moan around his shaft. she was so eager to please him, so eager to feel his cum paint the back of her throat. it never failed to amaze him, the way she was worshipping him, taking her sweet, sweet time teasing him, enjoying it almost as much as he did.

nicholas' hands found her hair, and he tugged at it, causing another moan to escape y/n's mouth.

she sucked on the tip softly before pulling away, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock. her tongue darted out as she licked at the underside of his shaft, greedily tracing the pulsing veins adoring it. her tongue reached down to lap at his balls, huge and full of cum, almost begging for her attention. nicholas' cock twitched and his whole body contracted at the stimulation.

"more, please, doll-" he blurted, breathless, and she looked up at him as she left soft kisses on the insides of his thighs. slowly starting to stroke his big cock in her hand, the other tracing over the muscles on his stomach.

he met her eyes, biting his lip at the sight of her on her knees, being so good for him, before throwing his head back in pure bliss. the teasing made him feel lightheaded, heart beating so fast that he thought he might just drop dead any second.

"you're so big" y/n mumbled, almost as if she was talking to herself, swiping her thumb over his sensitive tip. she watched his face with wide eyes, amazed by the sounds that left his mouth and the way his muscles tensed. she thought that in this exact moment, she had complete control over him for the first time ever.

never taking her hand off his member, she got up from her spot on the floor. nicholas' eyes snapped open, wide and desperate, as she leaned over to kiss him.

y/n took her sweet time, never stopping the slow movements of her hand, and he whined into the kiss, his own needy hands already roaming over her body. nicholas melted into her touch, hips starting to rise from the couch as he grew impatient, he needed more. y/n smiled into the kiss before pulling away, every move graceful and thoughtful.

"can i sit on your face, pretty boy?" she asked softly; nicholas' eyes sparkled beautifully and his cock twitched, and she took it as a 'yes'.

what he didn't expect was her turning her back on him, ass on full display as she straddled his chest, and the realisation of what she had in mind finally bloomed in his mind.

before he had the time to think about it, y/n was already straddling his face, and he inhaled, breathing her in greedily. her sweet pussy glistened with wetness, and his cock twitched when she leaned over to be face to face with his his length.

nicholas wasted no time; he wet his lips before swiping his tongue against her clit, straight up to her hole. he gripped y/n's ass in his big hands, pressing her against his face even more, a soft groan leaving his mouth at the taste of her.

she cried out and wrapped her mouth around him, trying to take him as deep as possible. the sensation of nicholas' mouth on her pussy combined with the taste of him had her head spiralling.

she was thankful he wasn't teasing her, going straight into licking, sucking and kissing at her clit, not a single thought in his head as he ate her out.

"fuck, i missed this pretty mouth of yours- and this sweet pussy. so good, so mine", nicholas whined pathetically, making y/n moan around his shaft, gagging slightly when he hit the back of her throat. she grabbed his thighs for stability, licking the underside of his shaft before focusing on his tip again.

nicholas' hands squeezed y/n's butt cheeks tightly as he sloppily made out with her pussy, tongue darting out to flick at the little button hidden between the folds. his mouth closed around it and he sucked hard enough to make her see stars. he could feel y/n's legs beginning to shake as she whined around his cock, bobbing her head quickly, just how she knew he liked it.

"shit, doll, i'm gonna cum-" he managed to get out, already on edge from her previous teasing, as he threw his head back.

y/n moaned around him, taking him in fully, encouraging him to fill her mouth. nicholas groaned shamelessly as his hips twitched, cock getting even deeper in her mouth, nails digging into her flesh with enough force to leave marks.

his vision went white for a second as he painted her throat white, and she took all it without protest, still bobbing her head on him, milking him dry until his whole body started to twitch from overstimulation. y/n let him leave her mouth with a "pop", breathing heavily, swallowing all of his cum momentarily, the taste of him only turning her on more as her pussy clenched around nothing.

before she had the time to react, she was already on her back, legs spread as nicholas towered over her, still slightly lightheaded from the earth shattering orgasm he just experienced.

"i just can't get enough of you" he whispered, arms on both sides of her head as he leaned down, nose brushing against hers. he then started to leave sweet kisses all over her neck, chest - focusing on her breasts for a little longer - before finally kneeling down between her legs, spreading them just a little wider, pupils blown with lust as he took in the sight before him.

"nick-" she didn't get to finish as his mouth came in contact with her pussy yet again, moving his tongue around her clit in fast circles. y/n's back arched, and her hand found place in his hair, the sight of her boyfriend between her legs making her legs shake slightly. he left open mouthed kisses on her slit, making out with her pussy sloppily, before forcing his tongue into her little hole, nose bumping against her clit. nicholas' eyes snapped open to watch her, and his cock twitched yet again, begging for attention, when she made eye contact with him. and y/n felt it too; she clenched around him, legs threatening to close around his head, but nicholas was quick to spread her thighs open, arms wrapping around them tightly. he was being oh so messy, her sweet juices covering the lower half of his face, obscene sounds echoing in the living room - but he didn't seem to care at all.

"come on, pretty girl, give it to me", he almost begged, and y/n tugged at his messy hair again, the feeling of his warm tongue on her clit making her cry out yet again. groans left nicholas' mouth as he devoured her, and one last suck of his mouth around her clit was enough to send her spiralling. y/n moaned his name out loud, and he responded with a satisfied moan as his girl's sweet essence filled his mouth. nicholas lapped at her hole, eager to not miss a drop of her cum, and she twitched in overstimulation. he didn't stop for another minute or two, too lost in his own pleasure, soft moans leaving his mouth as he placed soft kisses and licks on her clit to calm her down.

when he finally pulled away, y/n's legs flew shut, chest heaving with uneven breaths. nicholas smiled proudly before kissing her softly, and she wrapped her legs around his torso, running a hand over his broad shoulders. she could feel nicholas' cock pressing against her thigh, leaking with pre-cum yet again, and her pussy clenched at the feeling of him.

"i need to be inside you, baby", he whined desperately, hiding his face in the crook of her neck; her chest tightened at his voice, so defenceless and needy.

"use me, pretty boy", y/n breathed him in, and he wasted no time in running his tip over her clit, teasingly slow. she moaned at the sensation, hips bucking to feel more of him; nicholas certainly didn't like that, as he pushed her down, hands gripping at her hips tightly. after teasing her for another second or two, he forced himself into her, the wetness coating her walls making it easy for him to move.

satisfied moans left both of their mouths, and nicholas sat back on his knees, watching his cock slowly disappear in her tight hole, mouth slightly agape at the sight.

"you're so wet for me, so warm", he breathed out, gripping y/n's thighs, forcing her to open her legs just a little wider. he watched her face twist in pleasure as he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching in anticipation. y/n gripped at the couch cushion tightly, her eyes rolling back into her head; the sensation of his cock kissing her cervix with every single move of his hips almost unbearable.

y/n lost it the moment nicholas' fingers came in contact with her perky nipples, rolling them between his long fingers, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts in his palms. she gasped breathlessly, sound almost inaudible as pure ecstasy filled her mind.

"look at me, c'mon, doll", he panted, holding himself back, even though his thrusts got more aggressive, desperate, sloppy. y/n opened her eyes, meeting his own immediately, and she clenched around him. hard. "fuck, nick- i- i'm gonna cum" she managed to choke up, and her hands found his strong arms, holding onto them for dear life.

"yeah? come on then, give it to me. i want to feel you cum around me", these words, combined with his powerful thrusts and the look of pure ecstasy on his face sent her over the edge. nicholas was quick to lift her up from the couch slightly, the new angle making him go even deeper; she clenched around his cock as she came, moaning his name like a prayer.

nicholas shut his eyes at the sensation, and kissed her once again, his restless thrusts not stopping even for a moment. the taste of her made his head spin, cock twitching as y/n bit on his lower lip, shaking from overstimulation, cunt gripping him tightly. he buried himself fully inside of her and let go, ropes of cum filling her womb, and he grinded his hips against hers to ride out his orgasm, groans leaving his mouth as he fell forward, entire body shaking.

"holy fucking shit", he managed to get out, and y/n fell back on the couch with him, completely fucked and spent. nicholas hid his face in the crook of her neck, leaving soft kisses there, and she played with his hair mindlessly.

"i love you", he whispered softly after a couple of minutes, finally letting his body relax. y/n smiled at the confession. she planted a kiss on his forehead, heart beating hard in her chest; the love she had for him almost overwhelming. "i love you too, pretty boy."

━━━━━━━━━━

2024, hoffmansgirl ©

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist ✿ | about the author

tags (comment to be tagged in my next nicholas writings): @destrolid @tater-tots-thoughts

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ grinding on old man logans thigh. 18+

logan takes great pleasure in watching you grind on his jeans, his thick thigh planted between your legs as you roll your hips on top. his glasses slide down the strong bridge of his nose, but he doesn't care, he's too preoccupied with the image of you coming undone before his very eyes to give a damn about that.

he runs his hands soothingly along your thighs, almost coaxing you to completion, squeezing your plump flesh every so often. sinking his old bones back into the sofa, he enjoys the show you're so graciously presenting to him, a show he's seen so many times before but will never grow tired of.

the friction is so good, the coarse material of the denim rubbing against your wet folds, sending sparks straight to your clit with every grind. your hands are planted on the base of his thigh, gripping, dangerously close to his thick, hardening cock. said he was too tired to give you what you wanted, but you both do this same dance every night. it starts with you on top of him, mewling like crazy and dripping like a faucet - in no time he's pumping his cum deep into you like his life depends on it.

but for now, he watches.

"feels so good, baby," you whisper, exhaling shakily as you try to keep at least some composure, "love it when you let me do this. . ."

he grumbles, a low grumbling at the back of his throat as he gives your thighs a tight squeeze, "can tell you're enjoying it," his eyes drift down to between your legs, "look how soaked you got me, darlin'."

and he's right, his jeans are damp, your wetness coating it so deeply it's become a darker shade of blue. logan can even feel it beneath the denim, you're soaking his skin so perfectly. he has to suppress a hungry growl at the sensation, how wet you are for him, how easily you become a mess for him, all pretty and drenched on his lap.

snaking a strong hand between your thighs, he gently pulls back your folds with his thumb, earning a whiny gasp from your lips. "hmm," his eyes drift across your glistening pussy, a deep stirring in his groin at the smell of how aroused you are, "would you look at that, such a messy girl, just for me. . ."

you nod, of course you are. how could you not be? especially with those words, those hands.

he looks up at you over his glasses, you have to resist cumming on the spot just from that look alone. there's a silence for a moment as you lock eyes with him, ". . .want me to take care of you?"

fuck.

you throb at the thought, aching for him to fill you - with his cock, even his fingers would do, anything. "please, please, fuck, logan please," you whine desperately, shifting faster on his lap against his jeans.

logan can't help but smirk, his hand on your thigh rising to cup your chin, pulling you down to his mouth, "since you're asking like a good girl, suppose i can give you what you want. . ." his salt and pepper beard brushes against your skin before he captures you in a deep, passionate and hungry kiss.

and then, a growl, an impatient command against your lips.

"get on the fucking bed."

-

logan promptober day 7 - denim

[sigh-tofm]

when the power goes out one cold and rainy november evening…

… price

- goes full dad. pulls the grill up to the back veranda door and cooks up some mean steaks for you two. gets a fire going in the fireplace to keep the house heated. has half a mind to call the power company and tell them that they don’t need to hurry, he’s got everything covered here. actually, they don’t need to come at all, not for a few days. tells you his thoughts as he pulls the mattress off your bed and deposits it in the living room in front of the fireplace, so you both can keep warm tonight. you let him know in no uncertain terms that he will do no such thing. you’ll let him have is fun tonight, but you will need a hot shower and a working oven in 36 hours, no matter how much he wants to play boyscout. but as you sit in front of the roaring fireplace and your admittedly very rugged and handsome husband feeds you bits of grilled steak and holds a glass of red wine to your lips, a thick, warm blanket covering you both, you must admit that this isn’t bad either.

… kyle

- excitedly improvises. you know, it’s like this every day when we’re in the field, he beams as he brushes the dust off the firepit in the woodshed. doesn’t mean it has to be like this now though, does it, kyle. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and watch as he finds the least rotten firewood in the shed and uses up eight matches before he can get a light. you almost tell him to leave it and come inside, that you’ll order in tonight, but he’s so engulfed in fanning the little flame to life that you can’t help but play along. you get an umbrella when the rain comes down harder and use it to shield both your boyfriend and his firepit from the weather. when you gently ask how he’s going to cook up the pizza you two were in the middle of preparing when the power went out, he wilts a little, but somehow manages to macgyver a cooking system for it that only leaves it slightly burnt. you know, he says while you two are standing under the awning, admiring your fire baby and nibbling on damp, blackened pizza, in the field we sometimes need to share sleeping bags too.

… johnny

- immediately relents. moans and groans about being off duty and that he shouldn’t be expected to fend for himself like this when he isn’t in an active war zone. you pull up the local takeaway menu on your phone and hand it to him. go get us some warm food, soldier, you prompt him and gather up some supplies while he’s away. the old scottish farmhouse you live in has a fireplace, of course, so you light a fire there and with some effort pull the couch up in front of it. blankets and pillows from the living room, old fair isle knit jumpers from the hallway closet, a sheepskin rug to warm your feet on. when he comes back with his arms full of steaming indian (best to get some extra, mo chridhe), his mood seems to have lightened a little too. especially when he sees you in thigh high knit stockings, wearing his jumper and laying on the sheepskin rug. okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. at least he’s not being shot at.

… simon

- is prepared. goes down to the basement and carries up box after box of emergency equipment. hands you a round little paraffin stove (which you have no idea how to work) and a matching aluminium pan, as well as a large variety of ready-made freeze dried stews and soups. just add water, he says unhelpfully, and continues pulling out equipment from his kit. amongst the various bags of tools and gadgets you can spot tent poles and emergency flares, and it’s obvious he’s been itching to use all this stuff for a while. you decide to entertain him and google your way around the stove, finally getting a light on it. you light candles and pull out your winter coats while the water boils, making it an overall cozy time. hav’ta be prepared, he mutters as he comes to sit with you when the food’s ready, the living room full of his unpacked catastrophe preparations. next time we’ll just go to a hotel, you gently request and serve him year-old mushroom stew, brought back to life with some warm water. he looks longingly at all his equipment. you yield. or camping.

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe fingering reader while they're watching a movie with friends

warning: smut!! MDNI, exhibitionism kinda i currently have acrylics so if i get any typos i'm sorry i'm practicing doing nails ... anyway sorry bsf!rafe lovers he's gonna be going through the wringer ... this is not a threat, but a promise.

movie nights were nothing new for you and rafe, having been a wednesday night tradition ever since you were both in middle school, but ever since you had started hooking up, it mostly turned into you two making out and eventually fucking while the movie just played in the background.

every time, you had told yourself that you two would just watch a movie, maybe cuddle a little, but as soon as rafe brought his large hand to your thigh, holding it in his palm, so close to your pussy that it usually took about fifteen minutes until your shirt was on the floor as you ground yourself against rafe's bulge.

and of course, on the wednesday when you wake up so horny even using your vibrator doesn't help, when you go through the day just antsy to get to have rafe all to yourself, to ride his cock until you're sore, of course that's the day when fucking topper and kelce decide to join, topper complaining about something sarah had done again.

a blanket laid on your lap as you bit on your nail, the throbbing in your cunt so intense you couldn't even focus on the movie playing on the large tv in rafe's living room, the smell of weed wafting in the air as topper took another hit from his bong.

you turned to look at rafe, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a large swig from his beer, his large hand at the neck of the bottle making you wish it was your neck it was around while he fucked into you ruthlessly, pounding into you from behind, mumbling obscenities under his-

you clear your throat, trying to rid yourself of the filthy thoughts in your head pressing your legs together for some sort of relief, feeling a wet patch on your panties. rafe looked at you with furrowed brows, scooting closer to you. "you alright?" he asked quietly, not wanting the other boys to pay attention to you two.

"yeah..." you mumble weakly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, the sight making rafe chuckle under his breath; he knew what was going on.

he moved some of the blanket on your lap to cover his lap, leaning closer to your ear, "don't tell me you're horny." he whispered with a tsk, your eyes widening, wondering how the hell he knew. he tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear, before glancing over at topper and kelce, the two boys too high to notice anything was going on. "i know your body like the back of my hand, baby." he said, pressing his hand on your thigh, under the hem of your dress. "plus, you only wear dresses when you want me to have easy access."

his hand slowly wandered closer to the edge of your panties, your legs automatically opening, and when he finally touched your core through your panties, he let out a dry chuckle, feeling the wet patch on the lacy panties rafe himself had bought you.

"r-rafe..." you whispered softly, but rafe simply turned back to the tv as his pointer finger and middle finger began rubbing your clit over the damp fabric of your panties, not enough to make you cum, but enough to keep you on edge.

"shhh, we don't wanna make a scene." rafe whispered as he turned to glance at you with an almost sadistic smile. the more he rubbed you over your soaking panties, the more your legs inched apart further, your aching cunt just begging to be filled with his cock, having grown so used to being stretched out, the thought making you whimper. "you want me to stop?" he looked at you warningly as you let out the noise, and you shook your head, pressing your lips closed. "good girl."

he let his hand slide under the lace of your panties, finally rubbing your clit directly, the sudden new sensation causing your back to arch off the couch, a small moan leaving your lips before you covered it up with a cough, but it caused topper to glance over, a confused look on his face. "you good?"

"y-yeah," you muttered, "i think i'm getting sick. i've been feeling weird all day." topper simply nodded at your answer, before taking the bong from kelce, taking another hit. rafe let out a small chuckle as you stared daggers at him in embarrassment, but your disdain was quickly forgotten as he continued his ministrations, his fingers rubbing your clit with more pressure, the tips of his other fingers brushing against the folds of your pussy with every move he made.

you could feel the climax building, the way the coil in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. suddenly, your legs shook, your toes curling as an intense orgasm crashed through your body, your hips bucking, your back arching, trying to get closer to the hand that was wreaking havoc on your clit.

rafe used your orgasm as an opportunity to shove his hand higher, feeling your wetness drip onto his fingers as he began to rub at your entrance, his thumb moving to your clit, the friction driving you wild.

topper and kelce were still too high to notice anything, the two boys now debating which superhero on the movie was stronger, a conversation you couldn't care less about, your mind only focused on rafe's hand, on the way your body was responding to his touch as he plunged his fingers into you, your pussy clenching around his digits due to your orgasm.

when you were finally getting down from your orgasm, he pulled his hands away with a cocky smirk, subtly cleaning his fingers with his mouth. he was about to whisper something to you, but you were both pulled out from your reverie when his phone started ringing on the table, and even though you only got a glance at the screen, you knew it was sofia.

rafe rose to his feet, taking his phone and going into the other room, and suddenly all the euphoria your orgasm had brought you was gone.

[sgtgarricks]

thinking about free use!johnny...

afab!reader

cw: free use, p in v, overstimulation!!!!!!!!, creampie, degradation but with love, soap being nasty, reader is also nasty, i am reader.

no one look at me.

johnny who starts dating you, who was always flustered and shy when it comes to initiating sex. he doesn't always catch when you ogle him, but when he does, he jumps immediately at the chance.

johnny who coos and nips at you when you wouldn't stop staring at his crotch. he thinks it's so adorable that you're still so shy around him even after dating him for months.

johnny who slowly takes your hand, kisses your fingers and places it on his hardening cock.

"is this what you want bonnie? you need me to fuck you?" he starts kissing your neck slowly when you give him a nod and press yourself closer to him.

johnny who gets a brilliant idea that he brings up to you on a random night.

"what do you think, hen? i think it'd be a great way for you to get more comfortable in asking for it!" he was propping his head on one hand, seemingly unfazed after the intense fucking he gave you few minutes prior.

"i-i'm not sure, johnny... isn't that kinda... degrading for you?" you question, eyes wide staring into johnny's baby blues. unexpectedly, he guffaws and brings a hand to your cheek.

"you're so silly bonnie, course not. 'm offering it for a reason, you don't have to do anything with ir. just know it's always on the table." you squeak when he pinches your cheek and the little shithead just grins at you.

"okay... so, anytime i want? are you sure?"

"aye, i'm sure. anytime you want."

free use!johnny who's genuinely surprised you're taking him up on his offer. it starts off slowly, you snuggle closer to him and mouths at his neck. his neck is slightly damp from the slow kisses you pepper everywhere.

normally, this is where he'd drop everything to pleasure you. but seeing you so needy for him and the thought of you having to beg him for what you want, gets his cock throbbing in his pants.

"johnny..." you whine in his ear, positioning yourself fully on his lap now, "need you so bad..."

and just like that his patience snaps. he flips you over on the couch and takes his shirt off, exposing his delicious abs that you sit up to lick. he holds your head while you continue to grope him all over.

"mmm, so needy... don't worry, 've got ye." he slowly removes you from him and you begin to protest when he places his mouth on your panties. your complaint dies out as you let out a long moan. he rubs you over your panties and places kisses all over your wet pussy.

"so fuckin' wet for me, bonnie." you try to push his head deeper into your pussy and he laughs, "you gotta ask for it." he teases you and runs a finger over your clothed folds.

"johnny, please! want your mouth and fingers in me!" you hear fabric tearing as his mouth latches on your clit. two of his thick fingers slide right in from how wet you are.

"oh, fuck... so good, johnny." you grind your hips into his mouth as his fingers keep pace, fingers curled hitting that gooey spot inside you. he's slobbering all over you, his own hips grinding into the bed.

you feel lightheaded from the stimulation, eyes closing and back arching. johnny's fingers move faster as he makes out with your drooling pussy.

"cum for me, bonnie." and you cum hard. pussy clenching his fingers tightly as juices squirt out all over his fingers and mouth. johnny lets out a moan and instead of stopping moves faster as you come down from your orgasm.

you breathe heavily as johnny slows down. he kisses your pussy gently before coming up to kiss you deeply. you can feel his cock still hard in his pants, but as your hand trails down, his hand stops you.

"not tonight. 'm so proud of you, bonnie." he places a gentle kiss on your forehead and cuddles you.

free use!johnny who, after putting the deal on the table begins to have more sex in a week than he could've imagined. before, you were getting fucked at least four times in a week, but now? he felt like he had unlocked something in you.

the first few weeks, you were still as shy as usual. initiating with slow kisses, pinching his butt, groping his arms. he was more than happy to indulge you. you were getting more confident and it made him happy.

free use!johnny who knows he definitely unleashed a fiend. you were insatiable, kneeling down and unzipping johnny's pants as he was watching the telly.

your head is bobbing up and down on his cock as johnny throws his head back in pleasure. you were drooling and slobbering all over his cock, tears in your eyes and johnny thinks you're the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

he let you set the pace for a few moments before losing control and thrusting into your hot mouth. you choke a little at the thick intrusion but push through as johnny's pace becomes ragged.

"such fuckin' good for me, hen... lettin' me fuck your mouth." you moan at his words, moving faster and licking all over his shaft. johnny whines at the feel of your tongue and thrusts a few more times.

you feel a his hot cum spurting down your throat and you gag at the sudden feeling. johnny groans, both hands gripping your head to keep it still.

after he let out the last few spurts, you slowly remove yourself and lick your lips. johnny was still recovering when you plopped on his lap, kissing his cheeks.

"thank you, johnny."

johnny, still coming down from his high and dazed, can only nod.

"anything f' you."

free use!johnny who doesn't think there would come a day where his cock might actually need a break. the two of you had been fucking like rabbits whenever there was a chance. before he left for work, when he came home, whenever you could find him, you would be on him.

johnny had only taken one step inside the apartment when you immediately dragged him to the couch and sat on his lap.

"bonnie-"

you tug his soft cock out of his pants and slide it along your already wet folds. he grunted when he felt how wet you were, hands immediately grabbing your hips as his tip slides into your warm heat.

"fuck, johnny... you're so big..." you grind your hips into his, matching his thrusts. his thighs were meeting yours with every rise as you use him.

"yeah? y'like my cock?" he grits, fingers playing with your clit.

"y-yeah.. l-love your cock!"

"it's yours, baby.. so take it." he pounds deliciously into your squelching pussy, his tip hitting your cervix. you can feel every throb inside your walls.

neither of you were going to last long, you'd been wet thinking about him all day and the way he keeps hitting your gooey spot has stars dotting your vision.

"'m gonna cum.." you warn him as he begins to move even faster.

"cum for me. cream on my fucking fat cock, baby. make a mess of it." his lips latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling and sucking as his finger draws circles on your clit.

johnny feels when you cum and it draws out his climax. he groans as he can feel cum spurt from his softening cock. he gives one last thrust, plugging you tightly.

he rests his head on your shoulder, panting heavily. he kisses your shoulder gently and was about to slowly pull out when you begin to move again.

your eyes were closed with your hands around his neck when you begin to slowly grind on him again. he groans at the overstimulation, his cock still throbbing.

"fuckin' minx you are..."

"johnny.. please..."

he doesn't think he has anything left in his balls after you drained him. but he's a weak man. he can never say no to you. grunting, he begins to move his hips again.

"so fucking needy... that why you were so shy, hen? didn't want me to know how much you loved my cock?" he says in your ear, regaining his stamina to pull you down onto him as he thrusts up.

"such a slut for my cock, aren't you?" you can't speak. your mouth was perpetually open, head thrown back in pleasure. your thighs were shaking from exhaustion but you couldn't stop yourself from slamming back onto johnny.

he stops moving when you don't respond and you immediately indulge him.

"y-yeah, 'm a slut johnny.. l-love your cock so much!"

he flips you over so you're on your back. you whine when he slips out and he shushes you. he grabs your legs and moves you into a mating press. when he slips back in you gush around him. the couch was positively defiled with how you two were going at it.

"gonna be the death of me.." he mumbles. he was sweating profusely and were you not in a mating press you would've leaned up to smell him. you let him pound you into the couch, content to just lay there and take what he gives you.

it doesn't take long for you to feel your climax coming, your thighs begin to shake and your walls begin to pulsate. instead of speeding up, johnny slows down. opting to lean almost all the way out, before thrusting deeply. each motion sends a glob of his cum out of your pussy and you moan.

eventually, your back arches and you reach your high. your climax triggers johnny's as he cums once more inside your ruined pussy. the both of you weren't speaking anymore, too fucked out to say anything.

he slowly pulls out of you, wincing slightly. he tries to get up but fails and ends up collapsing on your chest. he mumbles something about his balls running out of cum and closes his eyes.

you laugh, content and stroke his hair gently.

"thank you, johnny."

"i think 'm gonna pass out now."

[chuluoyi]

i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

[littlechivalry]

Steddie meet-ugly modern AU no Upside Down

-

Eddie has more than a few pet peeves but the main one is people blocking the sidewalk because they're on the phone. It's inconsiderate and shitty

The guy he's approaching is a prime specimen. Head completely down and walking full speed with no regard for what or who might be sharing the sidewalk.

So Eddie plants his feet. Its a dick move, he knows, but he figures when the guy gets close enough he'll see Eddie and stop short. Maybe raise his head so Eddie can give him a dirty look before they both go back to their original paths.

It doesn't work like that.

The guy never looks up, plows directly into Eddie. Since Eddie was prepared he keeps his feet but the guy goes stumbling. His phone, knocked from his hands, hits the ground with a sharp crack.

Eddie lunges to catch the guy but that brings them both to the ground and an awkward collapse.

"Shit," the guy says, sniffling.

His voice is thick and wet and Eddie is starting to have a real bad feeling.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the guy says. "I wasn't looking where I'm going, 'm so stupid."

He finally looks up and his face is damp and red, hazel eyes welling up with tears.

Eddie is an asshole.

"Hey, no," he says, getting up and helping the guy to his feet. "Its my fault. I didn't realize I was in your way."

The guy stands up, waving away Eddie's help. "No, this is all me. God, this whole stupid day. Of course, of course this would happen."

He's looking at the ground again and Eddie hears the other man hiccup a sob before crouching to pick up his phone.

It's... Eddie's seen worse. But it's in bad shape.

The guy presses the power button but there's no response. Eddie watches him press it again. Then again. He shakes it and tries again.

Nothing.

"Yeah," the guy says. "Yeah. This is perfect. This is actually exactly what I needed."

Oh no, Eddie is the world's biggest asshole.

The guys moves over and takes a seat on the curb, setting his phone on the sidewalk next to him and pressing his face in his hands.

Eddie... doesn't know what to do.

So he sits down beside him.

"You don't need to be here," the guy says.

Eddie shrugs. "I don't have anywhere else to be and it's my fault your day went to shit." The first part is a lie, and Gareth is gonna be pissed if Eddie doesn't get going, but there's no way he can leave now.

The guy shakes his head and sighs, just one soft huff, before he leans back on his hands, tipping his face up. He's not crying anymore and the red flush has faded to pink around his eyes and high on his cheeks.

He turns to Eddie and smiles, chagrined and tired and beautiful, and Eddie... is sunk.

In the face of that expression Eddie has no other choice. "I knocked youdownonpurpose," he almost shouts into that smile. "I was being a jerk and you weren't looking. I didn't-- I didn't think you would fall. I just... I was an asshole."

And the guy... just... laughs.

Eddie doesn't know how to respond. He murnurs an apology. And the guy just laughs harder. Laughs until he's crying again.

"I'm gonna be honest," Eddie says. "I'm not sure what to do here. Are you okay? Is this, like, a breakdown?"

The laughter eventually fades into a few stuttering gasps.

Eddie pulls the bandana out of his pocket and offers it over. The guy takes it and mops at his streaming eyes, dries his face.

The guy turns to face Eddie. The mad light of laughter is gone but so are the tears. Now it's just... calm.

They're still on the curb in the middle of the city. People are passing by, cars and bicycles and other pedestrians. Noise and light and life all around them.

But this moment with this guy feels like...

When Eddie was a kid he was terrified of storms. It felt like every boom of thunder was the moment his home would come crashing around him, like rain would wash his family away, the lightning would burn them all down.

His mom didn't have any patience for him getting upset, more interested in her own nightmares than Eddie's and going to his dad would just make things worse. It wasn't until he moved in with Wayne that storms changed for him.

The first thunderstorm that came crashing down on their trailer sent Eddie screaming into the little hallway, pressing himself to the wall as the lights flickered overhead.

Wayne found him there, curled in a ball on the floor and immediately sat down beside him, gathering Eddie's gangling limbed form into his own lap and rocking him through his sobs until the storm was over.

Once it had passed Wayne carried Eddie out onto the grass in front of the trailer. Eddie remembers pressing his face into Wayne's flannel shirt, letting the soft worn fabric absorb his tears and all the time Wayne humming and swaying them side to side.

When Eddie was ready he looked up. He expected a field of devastation, trailers thrown around like kids toys, trees uprooted, fire and havoc.

But it was quiet. Calm. It felt like the world had just let out a big breath.

Eddie was back in that moment now. This guy had clearly been through a storm and now he was on the other side.

"You wanna get a coffee," Eddie hears himself say.

The guy smiles. "I, uh, I need to get my phone taken care of."

"We can do that first," Eddie says. "Its my fault anyway and i know a guy who can probably fix it."

"Yeah," the guy asks.

Eddie nods. "Yeah. Um... I'm Eddie. By the way."

The guy smiles again, something like the sunrise breaking out across his face. "I'm Steve."

[misserabella]

ive been so obsessed with bbf ellie recently, so can we get a bbf ellie where ellie and reader fuck when the brother is sleeping or not home and like ellie fucks reader ROUGH telling her to keep quiet while the strap is deep🤭

don’t make a sound

bbf! ellie williams x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, teasing, name calling, degradation, praise, no use of y/n, voyeurism kinda??, strap on usage (r receiving), harsh rough sex, ellie has a dirty mouth, sub! reader and dom! ellie, hickeys, hair pulling, oral sex (e receiving), cum eating, face riding (r receiving)…

“that’s it. nice and quiet. don’t want your brother to wake up, hm?”

it’s late at night. the moon is dampening your room in soft strokes with its light. the hair is damp with the smell of sex, and is filled with your gasps and ellie’s soft grunts.

she’s deep into your cunt, roughly fucking her cock into your walls, which squelches with every harsh thrust and snap of her hips.

your brother’s room is right beside yours. and the walls are so thin you can hear his snores. you were fucking his best friend just a room away. you were letting her split you open with her strap over and over again as you try to contain your moans of pleasure because she’s doing it so good… she’s so good, she feels so good…

“feeling good, princess?” you babble, nodding. “yeah of course you do. you’ve been waiting for this the whole day, haven’t you? fucking slut. teasing me running around showing your panties while i’m at your home just so i fuck you, huh? are you that needy for it? do you want me that badly, baby?” you nodded, gasping when a hand surrounded your neck. “speak up.”

“yes, fuck, yes.” you moaned, watching her chuckle.

“of course you do. look at you. you’re fucking dripping. taking my cock like it’s nothing, hm? it slides in and out so easily…” she bit down on her lip, looking in between both your bodies and pressing you harder against the wall she was fucking you against, her free hand holding your leg up around her waist to fuck you deeper, harder. you’re a mess, slick sounds of your pussy taking her pounding filling the room. a particularly loud whimper falling off your lips making the grip around your neck tighten. “shut the fuck up.” she spat. “shut the fuck up and take it.” her lips latched to your neck, damp kisses being given to your skin. “fuck. wanna mark you up. should i, baby? let your brother see what her best friend does to you when he’s not watching, hm?” you moaned. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. dirty girl…”

“ellie…” you sighed, her lips now on your chest.

“maybe i could do it here, hm? where he won’t see. it’ll be our little secret.” she smirked, seeing you whimper as she harshly sucked on your skin, bruising you, marking you. “all mine. all fucking mine.” she groaned, speeding up her thrusts. one of your hands, that were surrounding her neck, laced on her hair, tugging and making her grunt.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out. you could feel yourself stumbling towards your orgasm, the warmth of your lower stomach spreading all over your body. ellie pushed her tongue inside your mouth to try and silence you up as she felt you squeezing her cock harder. “i’m gonna cum. i’m cumming, i’m cumming…!” you gasped, your nails digging on her back and tightening on her hair as you felt it coming.

“that’s it. cum for me. cream my fucking cock.” her words easily pushed you over the edge. “good girl. fuck. good fucking girl.” she grunted, fucking you through it, blissed out by your expression, although she had to kiss you again to muffle your screams. “so fucking loud… can’t keep fucking you like this. you’re gonna wake up your brother.” you whimpered when she pulled out, leaving you empty and in need for more. “get on your knees.” she ordered, pushing down on your head until your shaky knees were bobbling and letting you fall onto the floor. you watched as she unbuckled her strap, throwing it aside. your mouth watered at the sight of her soaked folds and puffy throbbing clit. “eat my pussy. that’ll keep your mouth busy.” she smirked at the dumb look in your eyes. “what’s the matter, baby? you look hungry.” she chuckled, one of her hands cupping the back of your head to push you closer to her cunt. “just open up for me, hm? stick your tongue out.” you did as she said, showing her your tongue, and she groaned. “just a pretty slut hungry for pussy, aren’t you? then eat it.” she grunted at the feeling of your mouth on her once she had buried your face on her cunt. “fuuuuck. that’s it baby. eat my pussy.” she sighed as you lapped at her slick with a pathetic whine, your hands holding onto her thighs as she tugged on your hair and bucked her hips against your mouth. you were drunk on her. she tasted so good. the strong tang of her arousal filling your mouth as you slurped her juices. you latched onto her clit, making her softly moan as you suckled on it, looking up at her through your lashes. “shit. you have a mouth on you, don’t you? so fucking good at eating your brothers best friend’s pussy, huh?” you hummed against her, lapping at her. she had been so close from the back of the strap bumping against her clit than just a couple of licks from you had her bordering the edge. “want me to cum on your face, princess? fill your mouth up with my cum?” you nodded, sucking at her clit as she humped you face. “of course you do. flatten your tongue up for me, gonna ride it.” you flattened your tongue and she started to thrust harder against it, stimulating her clit. “shit, gonna cum baby, gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” she was panting, gasping, searching for her release. and with one, two, three more thrusts she was reaching it. “fuuuuck.” she groaned, her head tilting backwards, her throat bobbing with a gulp. you licked her though it, eating up her cum, drinking every last drop of it.

and the sight of your chin and lips dripping with her cum, convinced ellie that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be fucking you.

[humanpurposes]

Nightblooms

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely? // Main Masterlist

Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, sex work, unresolved childhood trauma, implied underage and non-con (not explicitly depicted), mentions of war, violence and death

Words: 9.7k (she's a bit of a monster)

A/n: my humble offering of another Aemond brothel fic. I hope you like :) You can also read this on AO3 if you feel so inclined.

He remembers the bed, the thin curtain draped around it, the slight breeze that drifted in on the night air and made it flutter. The throw was richly decorated, red, black and brown, and he picked at the thin threads of embroidery with his fingertips until his skin was red and white. 

The heat in the room was unbearable, the stench of wine, incense, his own sweat clinging to his bare skin. He was weary to breathe the air in, to tarnish himself any further than had already been done. 

He flinched as the door opened. The madam was back, now wearing a gown and all her gold jewellery. A silhouette stood behind her, he couldn’t see them properly, concealed in shadows. 

“You are shivering, my Prince,” she said. 

He could feel it, his knees brought up to his chest and his arms clinging around his legs. His clothes were neatly folded in a corner, his eyepatch atop the pile, he just hadn’t managed to reach for them yet.

“Have some wine if you like,” the madam said. 

The silhouette stepped into the flickering candlelight. In years to come her face would fade from his memory, but she was young, perhaps as young as him. She was dressed like the other whores, in a loose gown of blue silk that exposed glimpses of her skin, her shoulder, her thigh through a slit in the skirt. She held a pitcher of wine and a cup in her hands.

“She is undertaking her own education,” the madam said, noting how long Aemond’s eye had lingered on the girl. “She’ll help you bathe and dress.”

He made no sound of protest. The madam took the pitcher. He could smell the sour scent of the wine as she poured it. Already a few cups deep, the numbness of alcohol was starting to wear off and a pulsing pain was blooming in the back of his head. The madam placed the cup on a table and then she left.

The girl took a single step towards the bed. She lifted her arm, holding out her hand to him, as if he were some street dog to be tamed.

He scowled. His left eyelids were sewn shut back then, his wound mostly healed after three years, but still hideous enough that people would stare in shock at the sight of him, the ailing King’s maimed son. The Lords and Ladies of the Red Keep averted their eyes when they saw him. His mother looked at him with tears in her eyes. His father… the last time his father must have looked him in the eye was on Driftmark.

But this girl looked at him unabashedly.

If he had his wits about him he might have scorned her. Smallfolk like her should know their place, they should revere their Princes. He shouldn’t inspire pity, he should inspire fear and awe.

His stomach was turning. Anger coursed through his blood. His eyes were hot and stinging but he would not allow any tears to fall. And he was restless. It was all familiar to him, the frustration, the humiliation. He couldn’t bear to sit on the bed anymore, cowering like a child.

“I have a bath drawn,” the girl said. 

He had heard her, but he could not find the will to move, not for a few moments at least, moments which felt like hours.

“I have some cake as well. I find it helps me regain my strength… afterwards.”

He felt his head nod.

“It’s lemon, do you like lemon cake?”

“Yes,” he muttered into his knees.

He watched her fetch a robe from the back of a settee by the fireplace, draping it over her arm. “We only have to go to the next room, not far at all.”

He blinked as he looked at her. He felt the dampness on his cheeks, the stinging cold left in the trail of his tears as another breeze swept into the room. 

All the faces around him this night were unnerving. Aegon had been far too delighted with his so-called “gift”. He’d entered Aemond’s chambers with a snarling smile before he’d gripped him by his shoulders and dragged him through the stairways used by servants to stay out of sight. “You are a man now, Aemond. Time to get it wet.”

The madam had a calm gaze, soft lips and small eyes which considered him intently once she had taken the purse of coins from Aegon. The scent of her perfume was sharp and he could still smell it in his nostrils. His stomach lurched again. 

“Come,” the girl said.

Hers was the only face he found any ease in, and he could not explain why that was.

She held out the robe for him and asked before she secured the tie at his waist. She went to a small door in the corner of the room which he had not even noticed until then. It led into another chamber where the air was hot and humid but not as suffocating.

A basin stood in the middle of the room. She took out two small brown bottles and let a few drops of oil fall into the water, filling the room with a gentle, fresh scent. “Lavender,” she explained, “and rosemary. They are meant to be calming.”

He stepped into the water, glad to find it just below scolding. 

The girl kneeled by the basin, gently pouring cups of water over his hair, running it through with a sweeter smelling oil. She took his hand and allowed him to settle, scrubbing his skin with sugar, cleansing it with an amber soap.

When it was done she rested her chin in her hands at the edge. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

He’d stopped crying now, his limbs felt steadier, more his own. He nodded.

“I don’t feel myself until I’ve washed it all off. It makes me feel as though my skin is truly mine again,” she said.

He felt his hands over his arms, the sweat and the fluids rinsed away, the dead skin scrubbed smooth.

“Thank you,” he said. His voice was thick, unnatural in his own throat.

“Do not thank me yet,” she said with a small smile, and suddenly jumped up to her feet. She walked out of his sight, past his blind spot, but she soon returned with a small wooden box. She kneeled beside the basin and opened the lid to reveal three small cakes, dusted with sugar and topped with thin slices of candied lemons. “Take one then,” she said.

He bit down on the inside of his lip to hide his amusement at her impertinence. He did as she told him and ate half of one cake in a single bite. A pleasant sourness burst on his tongue, not like the wine, sweeter, zestier. She was right, his mind was starting to feel a little less numb, the life flooding back into him with every breath he took, lavender, rosemary and lemon.

“You have one too,” he said.

“I’m not meant to,” she said, “they’re for the patrons.”

Aemond lowered his chin to look at her. “Take one.” Now it was his turn to deliver the orders.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting between him and the cakes.

“If anyone reprimands you I’ll feed them to my dragon.”

Her expression ignited. “Alright,” she said with a sly smile.

They devoured the rest of their cakes and shared the remaining one. She insisted that he should have the other candied lemon.

“Do you really feed people to your dragon?” she asked, wiping the crumbs from her mouth.

Aemond licked the sugar from his fingers. “I’ve not done it yet.”

She seemed stunned at his answer, then she giggled. “Yours is the big one, isn’t it?”

“Vhagar. She was Queen Visenya’s mount during the Conquest.”

“I see her sometimes, flying over the city.”

“She is too large for the Dragon Pit,” Aemond explained, “she nests along the shore of the bay.”

“And roams where she pleases?”

“Never too far from me.”

“No,” she said, her voice wilting, “of course.”

He suddenly wondered what this sad, sweet girl kneeling beside him would do if she had a dragon. He could picture her on Dreamfyre, the mount of his sister. Helaena adored flying and would often guide her dragon to glide above the waters of Blackwater Bay and the hills surrounding King’s Landing. This girl would take her dragon further, he thought, she would soar up above the clouds. Perhaps she would take her dragon over the seas, to Essos, to the Summer Isles, to the far corners of the world.

He did not flinch from her when she offered him a towel and patted his skin dry. She fetched his clothes from the other room, the awful room where he could not breathe, buttoning his shirt with swift fingers, doing up the buckles on his jerkin.

She was not much shorter than he was. She stood close enough that he could smell the lemon cake on her fingers, and there was something sweeter and richer underneath. It made him think of fresh fruit and vanilla, rose petals and nightblooms.

Her eyes drew slowly up from his collar to his face, to the wound slicing through the space where his eye once was.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

He was no stranger to pain. It had persisted since the incident itself, stinging and shooting through his skull. It once made him cower like a child, but of late it had lulled into more of a passing irritation. Had the extent of the pain subsided, or was he simply used to it now? “Sometimes,” he said. 

“How did it happen?”

The years had passed quickly since then. He remembered the joy he felt flying before the moon and the stars over Driftmark on Vhagar, the faces of his nephews and cousins in the dark. He spat cruelties at them. They shoved him, punched him, kicked him. He remembers the taste of his own blood, the crack of Lucerys’ nose under his knuckles, the dust in his eye and then a pain like fire piercing through to his brain.

Three years and he still felt clumsy in his movements. He would often lose his balance or misjudge his steps. He would miss objects as he went to reach for them, and he was still not quite used to turning his head so that he could see past his blind side.

He’d never had to say it out loud before, not all of it. It had been enough for Lord Commander Westerling to find his face covered in blood and the remains of his eye. He had told his father he had been attacked, but it went unheard to the pleas of innocence by the bastards and their mother. The maesters studied his wound. Cole told him he could regain his strength if he worked for it. Everyone else tended to avert their eyes altogether.

She was looking at it, trailing her fingertips over the edges of his scar and the twisted flesh of his eyelids. 

“It was the night I claimed Vhagar. I was returning to Hightide and they came at me, Jace, Luke, Laena’s daughters–” he suddenly realised these names meant nothing to her, but she did not seem discouraged.

“Go on,”

“Rhaena, well, Vhagar was her mother’s dragon. She wanted her, but I claimed her first. I was not afraid of them. Baela struck me first. Then Jace and Luke came at me, and Jace had a knife.”

She breathed a small gasp.

“Luke took up the knife. It all happened very quickly.”

“They did that to you, over a dragon?” She said, trailing her touch lower, over his cheek. 

He remembered the cool surface of the rock in his hand, hovered over Jace’s head. One of the girls shook her head, begging him to stop. And he did—  or he was going to stop…

That’s when Luke had slashed the blade at him.

“I was weak,” he said, brushing her hand away from his face. “It’ll never happen again.”

She tilted her head at him. Her eyes were glassy, like she might cry. Guilt tugged in his chest. He had not wished to upset her.

Then she took a quick breath and went to take up his cloak and his eyepatch. He placed them both on, covering his silver hair with his hood.

She beckoned him to follow with her fingers. They weaved through the close corridors and the few women and men they passed, some fully dressed, some wearing nothing at all. It felt ridiculous and somewhat unbelievable to see how unashamed they all were, women with their breasts out, men with their cocks hanging between their legs. 

His stomach turned again.

He reached for the girl’s hand. Her head whipped around and she held onto him, firmly. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in this place.

Neither of them let go when they reached the doors. People were passing though so they kept close to the wall, face-to-face. 

“Can you find your way back to the Keep from here?” she said, only having to whisper.

Aegon had long since disappeared. Aemond had rarely been out into the city, save to accompany his mother to the Sept, or his siblings to the Dragon Pit. He was alone now, no guards, no wheelhouse, but the Red Keep with its turrets, battlements and flickering lights in the windows would not be difficult to locate. He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for?” 

“For what happened to you.”

His stomach turned again, less nauseating, more unsettling, uncertain. He supposed this would be the last time he saw her.

“Will you be alright, here?” he said.

She took in a sharp breath and she frowned as though she were in pain. “Yes. The madam is good to me. She keeps me fed and clean.”

But the things they must make her do…

“Go, return to your royal castle and your servants,” she said with a grin. “Far better that I am here and not starving in some gutter.”

So he did. He slipped through the door, his last memory of her being obscured by shadows, perhaps that’s why he could not recall the details of her face. 

Walking through the streets of King’s Landing, he had never felt so aware of his body, his skin under his clothes, shifting over his bones. His limbs felt slightly numb, his feet moving of their own will while his mind… was clouded. His head felt heavy and the noises around him were distant. No one paid any mind to the boy trudging over the dirt and cobbles, but he felt the eyes of the gods on him and it made him shiver. They had seen his sins. What if his mother knew where he had been, the things he had done? He imagined her brown eyes, filled with disgust rather than grief.

He could not look at Aegon for weeks afterwards. He shied away from his mother’s touch, especially on his legs, his knees. In the Sept he begged the gods to forgive him. He begged to forget it.

Years went by. Some nights when he felt a certain tension in his stomach and a stirring in his breeches, he’d think of it, the heat and sweat and incense. And after there was no relief, just an emptiness in his chest.

He could wash it all away, with drops of lavender and rosemary oil in his bath, with sugar scrubbed into his skin.

If there was one thing he wished to remember of that night, it was her. He still thought of that girl, a face obscured in shadow, when the servants brought out lemon cakes after supper, when Helaena insisted on walking through the gardens at sunset and the air was sweet with nightblooms. She pointed them out to him, the silvery white flowers growing in the leafy green bushes lining the path, their petals like little moons in the foliage. 

“How curious are these,” Helaena had said one evening, “they retract in sunlight, but in darkness they flourish.”

Daylight dies with a golden sunset and night blooms with a sky of red and indigo clouds. 

The King’s body is now ash. Sunfyre had the honour of being the dragon to do it. It was a hasty affair, in the hours after Aegon’s coronation, when the chaos at the Dragon Pit still had their family and the Small Council stunned to silence. Aegon wore the steel crown as they stood on a cliff over the bay, waiting for him to give the order. The heads of his mother and his sister hung heavy, but Aemond did not avert his gaze from the flames. He felt the heat on his face, seeping through his skin. 

At long last, his father is gone. Aemond has not wept for him, nor does he feel a desire to. His father was once a young man, well loved, so he is told, but to Aemond he was always a frail old man. Save for the few times he ever proved his strength, and even then his strength was only ever resolved for his dearest child. 

Rhaenys will have made it to Dragonstone within a matter of hours, and Aegon’s ascension will not come without consequence. 

On the morrow he will fly for Storm’s End and secure the allegiance of Lord Borros Baratheon. His mother has assured him this will be a simple enough feat, swords for a marriage pact with one of the Baratheon girls, but a crucial one. His brother will not hold the throne long without Lords to uphold his claim and men to fight for it. 

He wonders if the Stormlands will live up to their name; how dull the entire affair will be if it only amounts to flying Vhagar through a downpour of rain. This is the war his mother and grandsire wish to fight, with letters and diplomacy. He is sure the dragons will become restless soon enough. Rhaenyra has been steadfastly sure of her own importance her entire life, and with Daemon at her side, she will not bend the knee without a challenge.

And what of Aegon, is he ready to fight for his crown?

When Viserys breathed his last and the pieces were all finally in play, Aegon had not been where he needed to be. Not in his rooms, not within the walls of the castle. He was squandering his duties, evading the position he was born to, as he always has done. Aemond himself was the one to drag him from the streets of King’s Landing to the Red Keep. Cole had spent hours with him, convincing him to take up the crown rather than fleeing on a ship across the Narrow Sea, to Pentos, to Yi Ti, some far corner of the world where the burden of being their father’s son would not weigh so heavily on his shoulders. 

The first place Aemond had thought to look for his brother proved to be a fruitless endeavour. The establishment was a familiar one, and with every step he took along the Street of Silk his memories phased into reality. The knocker on the door was the same. The madam was the same, the same long, auburn hair, the same gold jewellery, the same knowing smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. 

“The Prince is not here,” she had said. “His tastes are known to be less discriminating.” Of course. Aegon could pay for the most expensive, sweetly perfumed whores in all of King’s Landing, but instead he sullies himself with the scum of Fleabottom, rolling around in the dirt like a pig.

The madam’s gaze then turned to Aemond. She remarked how he had grown. It felt an obvious thing to say. He was no longer the child he was when Aegon first brought him there.

While he and Cole wandered the city in search of his wastrel of a brother, a thought passed through his mind. He thought of a face in the shadows of the brothel, steam rising, gentle hands, the scent of lavender, rosemary, rose, nightblooms…

She could have been there, on the other side of the door, within the walls of the establishment. She would be a woman just as he was now a man. Or she might have left years ago, to a better life, or perhaps a worser fate. Are the lives of the smallfolk not meant to be brutish and short? 

A hollowness settles in his chest, restless and hungry, like it’s writhing under his skin. He paces his chambers, reads until the hearth has died and the sky beyond the windows is black, but sleep will not come to him.

In the hour of the wolf, he dons a cloak and retraces his steps.

Men are all the same. They strut into the establishment like peacocks, with an ego that outweighs their purse. They flash a few coins and ask for wine rather than ale, a symptom of refined taste. They run their hands over her body, her waist, her hips and her rear as though she should be grateful for their attention. They tell her uninteresting stories while they drink themselves into a stupor. They convince themselves that it is their charm and decent looks that have her leading them to a bed in a quiet corner of the pleasure house, or falling to her knees and undoing the laces on their breeches. The truth is that she will do what is asked of her, so long as they have gold. It is only motions of the body, and afterwards she can wash it all away. 

Until the next night… and then the next… and then the next…

Madam Sylvi has promised her to a Lannister tonight, a man of Lord Tyland’s household, no doubt paid well by the family he serves. He is supposed to be waiting for her but first she must pretty herself for him. She wears a gown of blood red that bares her back and her arms, that will easily fall away with the undoing of a clasp at her neck. She lets her hair fall freely and tints her lips and cheeks with rosewater. Finally she dabs her perfume into her wrists, her neck, on the insides of her ankles, a scent she has worn for years, sweet, rich and floral.

She descends the stairs by the door. At the darkest time of night the pleasure house is alive. Music hums over the laughter, the moans, the cries. The air is thick with the sourness of alcohol and the smell of sweat and sex.

A man with silver hair stands in the entrance hall, Sylvi beside him. They speak with their heads close together, as familiars? As lovers? Sylvi strokes his arm affectionately, with a look glinting in her eye that means she intends to bleed this Targaryen of all the gold he has.

It does not sink in until he looks up, his single eye meetings hers. He wears an eyepatch over his left eye, dark leather obstructing his hair and pale skin.

The eyepatch… it cannot be…

Sylvi had always said men come here to take their pleasure on their own terms. This had not seemed to be the case when last she laid eyes upon Prince Aemond. She had seen them enter, the young Princes, one taller, merrier, with purple wine stains in the corners of his mouth. The other was solemn faced and unsure, ushered into the arms of the madam before she led him upstairs. Sylvi had other patrons to attend to once the deed was done, leaving the burden of caring for the young Prince on her equally young shoulders.

She still remembers him hunched over himself and shivering, the distant look in his eye, frozen in a single moment of time. The most she had been offered after her first time was a cup of moon tea and an order to change the sheets for the next patron.

It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely?

“Her,” the Prince says, “I will have her.”

Her heart drops. She has reached the end of the steps and freezes, looking to Sylvi for instruction. Anticipation stirs in her gut, somewhere between terror and curiosity.

“I’m afraid she has been spoken for tonight, but I would be glad to–”

“I will pay double what any other man has promised,” Aemond says with an air of finality. This is an offer that cannot be refused. Perhaps the minor Lord will be disgruntled, but he will be compensated generously. Defying a Prince is treason. 

While Sylvi has gone to deal with the outbidded Lord, her legs carry her down the last few steps until she is face to face with Prince Aemond.

He is taller for a start, at least a head above her. His hair is longer, his face is slimmer and sharper, his lips are settled into a slight pout. He carries himself differently, proudly. Her eyes move over his leathers under his cloak. She is not meant to admire the men who seek her services. She is meant to take their coin and fulfil their desires.

“Some wine, my Prince?” she asks, nodding towards the inner chamber, the heart of the pleasure house where the musicians play and bodies mingle out in the open or behind drawn curtains. 

He offers her a cryptic ���hmm,” and follows her inside.

One of the other girls stands in a corner, carrying a tray of full cups. She passes one to Aemond, his fingertips brushing over her skin as he takes it. 

The Prince studies his surroundings like a hunter looking for quarry, lips quirked, jaw tight, somewhat amused but silent. Something tells her he has not returned to the pleasure house in the years since his first visit. This is all unfamiliar to him. He sips his wine and takes a slow breath. No doubt he will prefer somewhere a little more secluded.

She takes his hand and weaves through the room, to one of the adjacent chambers lit by candlelight, large enough to fit a bed and little else.

With the curtains drawn the other sounds fade into nothing. She takes Aemond’s wine and sets it aside, coming to stand before him.

She keeps waiting for him to lean into her, to grab greedily at some part of her flesh, to claim her lips with his. Instead he stands stoically, his chest rising and falling from underneath the thick leather of his tunic.

“Are you not awfully warm, my Prince?” she says in a honeyed voice, one she has practised for years that usually feeds the lie she actually wants what’s about to happen. She trails her fingertips over the shiny silver buckles that conceal him from her, his body stiffening under her touch.

She takes a breath to steady the erratic beat of her heart and the wanting stirring in her belly. It is not often that her own forwardness seems out of place. 

She remembers the boy with silver hair. She remembers the scowl on his face, how it melted into confusion and fear. He had needed patience then and she was happy to give it. Because she was ordered to. Because she pitied him. Perhaps because she recognised something in his expression and the way he seemed unsure in his own skin.

She places a hand on his shoulder, testing the waters of how close she can get to him. He does not protest. His nose twitches as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “Perhaps we should make ourselves more comfortable?” she says.

He places his hand over hers, guiding it to the top buckle at his collar. His expression is stern, his face bathed in golden candlelight and the shadows caught in the angles of his face. His eye is somehow soft but intent.

Undressing him is not to be rushed. She takes her time with every buckle on his jerkin and pushes it slowly from his shoulders. She untucks his undershirt from his breeches and he pulls it over his head. His skin is smooth, mostly unmarred, save for a small scar in the crook of his elbow that had not been there the last time they met. He is all muscle, lean and lithe. She places her palms at his chest and lets them drag down his abdomen, to the waist of his breeches.

He holds her wrists to stop her.

She looks to his eye, terrified that she might have overstepped.

Instead he kisses her. It’s gentle and chaste, his hand against the bare skin of her back, pulling her against his body. When she teases his tongue with hers he chases it, only for the kiss to become messy and clumsy. She cannot bring herself to dislike his inexperience.

“Wait,” she says, pulling away, putting her hands on either side of his jaw. “Follow my lead,” she whispers, leaning in to capture his lower lip between hers. They find a rhythm then. She shows him to move slowly, to be firmer. As their kiss deepens she allows herself to melt into his arms. Her hips are rocking against his, his hand trailing over her skin until he finds the clasp of her dress. The material falls away as simply as it should, leaving her bare before him.

He studies her the same way he studied the room. How many men have laid eyes on her since she came to this place? Too many to count, insignificant men, who have no names or faces in her memory. She has no shame in her nakedness, but there has never been any doubt in her mind that those men found her desirable. Being under Aemond’s scrutiny makes her tremble. She wonders if the sight of her pleases him. He has enough gold and enough pride to be selective. 

He had asked for her though. Why?

He’s staring at her. “They crowned my brother today,” he says.

It is not what she was expecting to hear. “I saw.”

“You were there?”

“No.” The gold cloaks did not empty the whorehouses when they were ordered to fill the Dragonpit with witnesses for the King’s coronation.

Aemond’s attention is on her body now. He reaches for her arm, tracing circles over her skin with his thumb.

She had not seen the King himself but she had seen the crowds flocking. She had heard the tremendous noise of crumbling stone, people screaming, a dragon’s screech. “I saw the dragon. People say it is an omen.”

Aemond’s face darkens but his attention is still on his own hand, now at her waist. With the other he pulls the eyepatch from his head and tosses it towards his discarded shirt. She does not get much of a chance to refresh her memory of his maimed eye before he leans into her again. His lips are at her shoulder, then her neck and it leaves her utterly weightless. 

“Your perfume is the same,” he mutters into her skin.

He remembers.

Aemond seems content enough following her lead. He lets her slip his breeches past his hips and take him into her mouth. He lets her sit atop him and grind her core against his hardened cock until her peak washes over her, blissful and warm.

When he starts to buck his hips and dig his fingertips into her hips she decides to give him respite. She sinks herself onto him with a soft sigh. It is a rare opportunity to chase a feeling rather than letting herself go through a rehearsed set of motions. 

His eye moves between her face and the space where their bodies meet, as if he cannot decide which is more fascinating. She is pleasantly surprised when he places his thumb at her pearl and circles over her sensitive flesh.

She loses herself in it, how deep he reaches, pleasure rising and tightening until it releases suddenly, violently. She falls forwards on her hands to steady herself. 

Before long Aemond lifts her off his cock, finishing himself with a stuttering groan and his seed dripping through the folds of her cunt.

He holds her close, caging her in his arms and bringing her into his chest. There’s a numbness that follows pleasure and she cannot bring herself to care that he is crushing her ribs. It doesn’t matter. She basks in the heat of his skin and the smell of him. 

He makes good on his promise of payment. The purse of coins he leaves on the bed before he leaves is worth ten nights with any other patron. 

There is less pretence the next time he visits her.

It is only a day later. He comes in the middle of the night, his hair, coat and leather gloves soaked, but there is no rain in King’s Landing. They tear at each other’s clothes and kiss like starved dogs devouring scraps. Aemond holds her by her jaw and her neck. When she draws his teeth over his lip he grins.

Once he is bare she realises his skin is cold and he is shivering.

“You should sit before a fire and warm up properly–”

“No,” he insists, “I just want you.”

She chases her pleasure once more, Aemond’s hands bruising into her hips as he thrusts up to meet her, the coldness of his palms seeping through her skin. This newfound urgency is thrilling and she finds herself curling over her body as her peaks tears through her.

Aemond is not finished with her yet. He positions her beneath him, spreading her legs apart with two wide palms before fucks her with a brutal precision, and he does not stop until he has reached his own end, painting her belly and the tops of her thighs.

After, he takes her into his arms, positioning them both so that he lies under her arm with his head nestled on her chest, between her breasts. She strokes her fingertips through his damp hair, over his skin, all the places where lovers touch each other, his cheek, his neck, underneath his ear, his shoulder. With his arm draped over her stomach he clings to her like he may never know such intimacy again. His skin is still cold and yet she holds him close, determined that she will draw some warmth from him.

Hours pass. Days could pass and she’d be content to lie with him.

“The dragon was an omen, you said,” he mutters.

It takes her a moment to rouse herself. Her eyes had closed, her mind half asleep. “That’s what people are saying. A coronation marred by death must surely only lead to more death.”

She feels his arm tighten over her stomach.

“You’re cold,” she says.

“I was instructed to fly to the Stormlands.”

“Why?”

“To secure the support of Lord Baratheon. He has pledged his banners to my brother’s cause and in return I am to wed his daughter.”

His state suggests to her that he has not yet returned to the Red Keep.

“Is there to be a war?” she says. 

He remains frozen for a few moments.

“I believe war may now be inevitable,” he says. She feels his lips brushing over her skin.

“How so?” she says on a quiet breath.

“A boy is dead because of me.”

The coldness of Aemond’s body has decidedly taken root within her, like a fist closing over her heart and throat.

“Lucerys was there, at Storm’s End. Lord Borros shunned him from the hall but I… it wasn’t enough. I pursued him on Vhagar. His dragon is nothing to her, they didn’t stand a chance.”

She is not sure she wishes to hear of this, but a new kind of stillness has settled over her. She is too afraid to move, to disturb him. 

“He is the one who took your eye,” she says.

Aemond hums. “He never paid for what he did to me. My father was more concerned with the slanders against my sister than he was with me, with my blood spilled by my own kin.”

She closes her eyes, imagining the little boy from all those years ago is curled up in her arms. She runs her fingers through his hair, undoing the knots and tangles. She cradles his head in her arms so he knows he is not alone.

“His debt is paid now, I suppose,” Aemond says.

It is in the early hours of the morning when he finally leaves, the first glimpses of sunrise chasing night from the sky. She helps him dress and fastens his eyepatch over his head. He leaves another purse in her palm, a more than generous amount. 

He comes to her nightly. He is an unhurried lover and fucks her slowly, hovering his lips above hers so that they share the same air, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together as if he wishes to smother her, or else crawl under her skin. She’d let him do it.

It is not simply her body he wants. When they are done he wants to be held, and then his thoughts slip from between his lips. 

He had not expected to return to the Red Keep a hero for slaying his nephew, but now he says his mother can hardly look at him. His grandsire, the Hand of the King scorns him for his recklessness, for his impulse for violence that now means the false Queen may strike at any moment. Vhagar circles the city during the day, she sees the dragon when she goes to the market. Aemond insists that his dragon could make short work of destroying any other who would seek to oppose her, but Rhaenyra has dragons to spare. He sits in meetings of the Small Council and watches in despair as the Hand and the Dowager Queen advocate for patience and diplomacy. 

“We should be marching,” he says one night, tracing his fingertips over her stomach. “We should secure the support of the Crownlands, adding their numbers to our host. Rhaenyra is isolated enough on Dragonstone, but we could cut her off from her allies completely.”

“And none would stand against you and Vhagar,” she says. Assuring him has become a learned skill these last few weeks.

“Alicent wishes for me to remain here, to deter an attack on the city.”

“That is sound logic,” she says. “The people of King’s Landing will be grateful for your protection.”

Aemond hums irritatedly.

“I for one would despair at the loss of our Prince,” she adds, ghosting her lips over his cheek, where his scar cuts through his skin.

For a little while he entertains her, turning his head to kiss her properly. She slips her hand between their bodies, taking hold of his hardening cock. He melts into her, chasing his pleasure as she strokes him.

“I am ready for more,” he says breathlessly. “I’m ready to fight.”

“As you have proved,” she says, coming to kiss his throat. 

In a single breath he is above her, pinning her hands by her head. He positions himself against her, rocking his hips so his leaking tip pushes against her pearl. He knows this about her now, how to draw her pleasure from her body. “Storm’s End was no battle,” he hisses into her ear. “Luke was a child. I want fire and blood.”

“Your time will come,” she says, her voice catching in her throat as he quickens his pace.

“The war must be inevitable,” he pants, “the realm will realise it soon enough. Aegon is the King and yet he is hostage to those with weaker wills.”

“You are his brother,” she sighs as Aemond slips lower to her entrance. “You can convince him to act–”

“Not now,” Aemond says, pushing into her with one sudden thrust. “Just take it, that’s it…”

He fucks her slowly, deeply, with his face buried into her neck. His desperation fuels her own desire, his hot breath against her ear, his pants and his groans. When he is finished he does not leave her wanting, trailing his lips and tongue down her body, her chest, her stomach, driving her towards her own peak with his lips and tongue.

“My grandfather takes my aspirations as insolence,” Aemond mutters to himself as he dresses. “He thinks me weak. He thinks I am still a child.”

“Then he is a fool,” she says, still buried beneath the throw on the bed.

“My mother and grandfather seized the throne, now they will not do what needs to be done to hold it.”

“Perhaps they fear what a war might bring.”

Aemond tuts. “The first blood has been drawn.”

“Do you not…” she pauses when he looks at her, his eye wide, anticipating something he will not wish to hear. “What if Rhaenyra comes for you? What if she seeks vengeance for her son?”

Aemond smiles like he has a secret and stalks slowly towards the bed, her stomach tightening in anticipation. 

In some ways, Aemond terrifies her. He has a presence of danger and bloodlust which fades away when she peels away the layers of his leathers. Without his eyepatch, in the warmth of the candlelight, he is the picture of Valyrian beauty, a man who belongs in histories and legends, not the living, breathing realm she exists in. 

He leans into her, taking her chin between his fingers to kiss her. She relishes it for as long as she can, knowing it won’t be enough to charm him back into the bed.

He pulls away, reaching into his pocket for a purse of coins. “Let her try,” he says as he places it beside her, “but I will not be easily ended.”

The girls all share chambers, bedrooms and a washroom with basins and baths. She rises early in the morning to bathe, to drop her lavender and rosemary oils into the tub and scrub away the remnants of last night. Before, she would not allow herself to fall asleep until she was clean. Lately she finds an odd sense of comfort in the reminders of her royal patron. Her skin is littered with love bites and bruises, her neck, her collar, her breasts. It shouldn’t be like this. Usually she does what she can to forget the men she has been with.

They share their duties. This morning she is to help wash the bed linens, and find cheap grain and cuts of meat from the markets.   

The clothes she wears are modest, covering her arms and her neck, unflattering to her figure. Some people still eye her with disgust, with hatred. You can always spot a whore. What can strangers know of her? Can they see through her skin and see her sins as the gods judge them all from the seven heavens? It was not as if she had chosen this path for herself out of an endless number of possibilities. 

Sometimes she remembers the life she had before, a woman’s laugh, a particular taste on her tongue, a tune humming in the back of her mind she can’t quite piece together. She used to think the gods had forsaken her, but now she thinks they do not concern themselves with the lives of people like her. So she finds little point in looking to the past, of imagining a future for herself. She survives and that is enough.

Summer is nearing its end. There is no warmth to be found in sunlight obscured by clouds. People walk quickly, keeping their belongings in deathly grips. A woman with a babe in her arms begs the baker to accept one copper instead of five for a loaf of bread. A man despairs that the apothecaries cannot offer him a medicinal herb from Lys for his sickly daughter. The shipping lanes are blocked by the Velaryon Fleet holding the Gullet, and no ship can get in or out of King’s Landing. A woman cries for her son, a rat catcher, his body hanging from the walls of the Red Keep. 

She gets what she needs to, grain she will bring back to the kitchens for the cook to turn into plain tasting flatbread. A butcher sells her tough cuts of beef for a reasonable price to go into a stew. He worries that there have been no imports of salt or sugar. How is the city meant to preserve food for the fast approaching winter? 

“It’s the fucking war,” he grumbles, “why can’t the King just burn the ships so the rest of us can eat?”

In the distance she hears drums, the clatter of horse hooves against the cobbles. She keeps her basket tightly on her arm, not stopping to make eye contact with the people she passes, past the stalls, mules, the buckets of sewage and dirty water falling from windows above her head.

As she emerges from one of the side streets her way is suddenly blocked by masses of people. She had guessed some sort of procession was afoot. This is no celebration, it is lamentation. People weep and wail around her, a mass mourning that she does not understand, and yet she feels it in her chest and behind her eyes, an urge to cry.

Over the sea of bodies before her she sees two women in an open carriage, richly dressed with black veils over their faces. Petals fall from windows and footbridges. People cry the name of Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent. 

She finds a small ledge to lift herself onto at the base of a statue. What she sees could stop her heart. This is a funeral procession. Queen Helaena’s carriage follows the body of her son, wrapped in a green and gold shroud, with flowers woven into his white hair. For a moment she tells herself the boy is an effigy, that he could be made from wax or porcelain. 

“Behold the work of Rhaenyra Targaryen!”

The whispers follow her as she scurries back to the pleasure house. The Prince was slain in his sleep. Two assassins cut his head from his body. They made his mother and twin sister watch. 

Bile rises in her throat as she hands cook the cuts of meat, blood seeping through the wrappings. She swallows it down.

When Aemond comes to her that night he is more subdued than usual. He pulls her into his arms and she strokes her hand over his hair.

“My nephew is dead,” he utters. He sheds no tears, he seems confused more than anything.

Rhaenyra’s retribution had come then, swift and brutal, a son for a son. 

She undresses him but he leans away when she tries to kiss him. They lie back on the bed and Aemond settles his head on her shoulder.

“My brother is in a rage and wants Rhaenyra dead. My sister has not left her rooms; I tried to go to her but she would not speak to me,” he says.

“How did it happen?”

“There were two. One was a gold cloak. They found him at the gate of the gods with Jaehaerys’ head in a sack. He confessed the other was a rat catcher.” 

Now the bodies of a hundred men hang by their necks, though only one of them is guilty.

“Daemon sent them to kill me,” Aemond says, “but I was out.”

She rests her fingers at the pulsepoint on his wrist to remind herself his heart is still beating. “You were with me,” she says. She feels the guilt weighing in her chest. While she and Aemond had kissed and fucked and held each other, a boy had a lost his life, the very body she had seen paraded through the streets.

“In truth I am proud that he considers me such a foe, that he would seek to murder me in my bed.”

She cannot tell if she admires him for it or not, to gamble with life as though it means nothing.

Aemond is watching her, his hair loose and framing his face. “Do you think he fears me?”

She has never seen Aemond wield a blade. She’s never seen him ride his dragon, not up close. She’s never seen him fight with his fists. She’s never seen him slur his words and throw away threats in a drunken argument. He is always composed. He is always softly spoken, and in a way that terrifies her more than it should. They say the blood of the dragon runs hot. Aemond’s blood does not seem to burn, rather it simmers under the surface of his skin. 

“Perhaps he fears what else you might be capable of.”

Aemond is the closest she has ever seen him to tears. His eyelashes are damp and heavy, his seeing eye vibrantly blue and glassy. “You think me a monster,” he utters.

She could never say it, could she? But this is a man who took the life of his own kin as a reparation for his eye. Violence is carved into his face, beautiful, set with a gemstone, but it is there nonetheless. 

She brushes her fingertips over his cheek and plants a delicate kiss to his lips. After only a few moments he shrugs her off and repositions himself, curling into her lap like a child, clinging to her limbs and the fabric of her gown. 

“I lost my temper that day,” he says. “I should have known Vhagar would not relent. I am sorry for it.”

Her blood runs cold. Should she be glad to hear he is remorseful? He may not be a cold hearted killer, but destruction lives at his fingertips. 

She reaches for his hand and he takes it. His touch is gentle and hesitant. “There was no justice in what happened to you,” she says, “blood has paid for blood…” but where does it end? With Lucerys? With Jaehaerys? With the next?

Aemond says nothing. She feels his tears slip onto her legs, his fingernails forming crescents in her skin.

Remorse will not return Rhaenyra’s son to her, it will not bring back the little Prince paraded through the streets of King’s Landing.

She clings to him, hoping she can ease whatever torment plagues him, and banish what darkness consumes him.

She never tires of the sight of him. His body bare, his hair tied away from his face, the uneven edges of his sapphire glinting in the lowlight, laid out beneath her. She runs her hands over his chest, tracing the lines that are familiar to her now. “I want to taste you,” she says sweetly, knowing he’ll already be desperate for her. 

He hums quietly to himself. By the slight smile threatening to break in the corners of his mouth, she knows he is content.

“On your knees then,” he says, and positions himself to sit at the end of the bed.

She runs her tongue over his length first, finishing with a teasing lick at the tip where he’s already weeping. She takes him into her mouth gradually, pushing a little deeper with every bob of her head. He is her Prince, he takes his pleasure from her and holds her hair from her face but it is she who sets the pace, who revels in his moans as his mind lulls. 

But he pulls her head away by her hair before he finishes. Suddenly she’s on her back and he’s kneeling over her with his fist moving furiously over his cock. He reaches for her breast and squeezes. In the morning when she bathes, she’ll look at the bruises and remember how he touches her. Her own had slips between her legs, tracing circles over her pearl at the thought.

This pleases Aemond. His brow hardens and his jaw falls. “Fuck, are you going to finish with me?” he whispers.

She nods in reply, her breath catching as a whimper in her throat. 

His grip on her breast tightens. She winces at the pain and it only fuels her own pleasure. She succumbs to her senses, chasing the feeling in her gut that only wants for release. Her fingers work frantically over her wet and wanting cunt.

“Make yourself come for me, that’s it,”

She obeys him with a cry, her body reduced to a shaking, dazed mess as Aemond reaches his own end. She watches his seed spurt from his cock, warm as it paints her skin.

He has habits, she’s noticed. He does not spill inside her. Of course, with the nature of the establishment there is no shortage of moontea, but she never questions him when he removes himself. He prefers to see it on her skin. 

Targaryen bastards are not uncommon in King’s Landing, commoners with silver hair. It is said Prince Aegon himself has sired many on the women of Fleabottom. Perhaps the idea is distasteful to Prince Aemond. He is discreet. He does not bring drinking companions with him to the pleasure house and he keeps his hood up as he enters and exits. 

He takes a cloth and wipes his seed from her skin. She bites back another jolt of anticipation in her spine. She would take more from him, but instead he lies beside her, curling into her embrace, tucking his head into her chest. 

He could fuck her quickly and be done with it, it would be more efficient. He could take a different girl each time. He could have one brought up to the castle. Yet since the day of the King’s Coronation he has found his way into her arms to her each night. In these quiet moments she lets herself think there is a reason for it.

They trace their fingertips over each other’s skin and he tells her things she shouldn’t know, that the King has named a new Hand in Ser Criston Cole, that while Queen Alicent seeks to avoid open war, Aegon wants to fly headfirst into it.

“It’s not his place. He’ll not stand a chance against Meleys or Caraxes.”

The names are strange to her. Sometimes it feels like a cruel joke, a reminder that some Silk Street whore is not meant to understand the realm he exists in. Other times it feels like an honour, like he’s gifted her a part of himself, a glimpse into his mind.

“He is no warrior, but he wishes to live up to his namesake. He wants for glory alone; it is a reckless pursuit but he would risk his life for it.”

“He is the King, is it not his war to fight?” she says. 

“He is not capable of it,” Aemond says, “but I…”

It is not a thought he dares to finish.

King Aegon wears the crown of the Conqueror, or so people say. She’s never seen a real crown. She’s seen paper ones worn by the mummers in the square, and she’s seen girls wearing wreaths of flowers on their heads for the festival of spring. They are only delicate things. Real crowns are made of gold, silver and steel. As Aemond’s eye flutters shut he looks divinely peaceful, but unsettled where his sapphire continues to stare at her. She pictures a crown of spring flowers fashioned from steel and imagines it upon her Prince’s brow.

Footsteps thud upon the stone floor, too close to the curtain, closer than anyone should dare to come near. She lifts her head as it’s drawn back.

It takes a moment for them all to realise what’s happening. Several faces stare at her– at Aemond. One of the men has silver hair, shorter and choppier than Aemond’s. He bares his teeth as he grins.

She sees a flash of fury in Aemond’s face as he turns to face them.

The silver haired man starts to laugh, the sound shrill and unpleasant. His friends do not join him. “Aemond the fierce!” he cries, pointing, staring.

Ameond parts himself from her instantly. He retreats as far as the edge of the bed, hunched over himself, his knees in the crooks of his elbows. He keeps his head hung, not looking at the men and the leader of their pack. He does not look at her, he does not look at anything. 

She sees the child he once was, frightened and confused. 

The man staggers towards the bed, clearly half out of his mind by the smell of wine drifting from him when he perches on the bed. On instinct she covers her breasts, devastated to realise her robe is out of reach.

“And here I thought you were as chaste as a fucking septon! You know,” he says to his companions, “I brought him here for his first too. And how far you’ve come, curled in the arms of a whore like a greenboy!”

There’s a bite to his– the King’s words, a cruelty that only makes Aemond shrink further into himself. Her heart aches for him, that she cannot help him. 

“Are you tired, brother? Did you fuck her like a hound?” An idea he emphasises with an impersonation of a hunting dog.

Aemond doesn’t move or speak.

Still in hysterics, Aegon turns his gaze to her, unashamedly lingering on her chest and her legs. “Hard luck for your squire, Ser Martyn,” he says, drawing his tongue over his lips, “as pretty as this one is, she is very much occupied.”

His laughter is the only sound in the chamber and it pierces her skull. 

Aemond starts to shift. Helplessly she reaches out her hand, unsure of what it is she intends to do. He doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look at her.

He stands before the King and his companions. His humiliation has melted away. In the place of the boy is a man who speaks calmly and clearly. “Your squire is welcome to her. One whore is as good as another.”

He strides from the chamber and she is entirely forgotten.

Or so she wishes that were true. There are still four men in her midst. And she is still, for all the hours she has spent in Aemond’s company, a whore in a pleasure house. 

I've kinda given up on taglists, sorry <3

A/n: I'm quite happy with this! I've been playing with the idea in my head for a few weeks, then I saw episodes 2 and 3 and it just had to happen. Would be very cool if you wanted to let me know what you think :)

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats Pt. 4

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, child birth, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenyra cannot imagine what might cause such commotion in the middle of the night.

“The dragon keepers have just calmed Sunfyre, who’s been having a fit for the better part of three hours.” Daemon informs her.

“Why is this news?” Rhaenyra wonders, “you needed only to wake Prince Aegon so that he might calm his own dragon.”

“That was my intention, your grace.” Daemon assures her, “until it was brought to my attention that Stormborn had been taken from the pit.”

“Where is she now?”

“Her grace’s dragon has since been returned to the pit.”

“Where is my daughter now?” Rhaenyra asks.

The room falls silent, everyone glancing toward one another.

“We believe the princess to be abed.”

“Not one of you thought to make certain?” The Queen all but shouts, panic coursing through her.

“We thought it best not to disturb the princess while she is abed, your grace.” Not without permission from the queen herself…certainly not after the last time.

Prince Aegon was in quite a state, threatening to castrate any member of the royal guard who happened upon his beloved wife in the throes of passion.

“Never you mind, I will see to her myself.” The Queen stalks down to her daughter’s room, pounding at the door.

It is Aegon who answers, “Rhaenyra?”

“I need to see her.”

Aegon hesitates, looking to his wife, who nods her approval. “She’s just there.” He takes a step back, allowing his half sister entry.

Y/N sits upon her bed in a pristine blush sleeping gown, hair still damp from the bath. “Mother.”

“Tell me the truth of it.” Rhaenyra approaches, hovering over her bedside. “Where were you this night?”

“With Aegon.”

Rhaenyra steals herself, “where were you whilst Sunfyre was howling in the pit? I know you took Stormborn, I have it on good authority. Tell me now, Y/N, where did you go?”

“To Harrenhal.”

Rhaenyra blanches, clutching her chest. “Why?” She sobs, “why would you do such a thing, knowing the risk?”

“Mother, I-”

“I have lost two of my children, I will not survive the loss of a third.”

“I have not done this to harm you, mother. But I am tired of being in pain. You’ve no idea how it feels to be tugged at by opposing sides, until you are torn down the middle.”

“Sweet girl,” Rhaenyra sighs.

“I understand why you needed Aegon and I to marry. I do not fault you for it, but times are different now. I love him, mother. Not for the crown, or the realm, or even peace. He is one half of me.”

“I wish you’d come to me, instead of facing all these troubles alone. I will always be your mother, no matter if you are a woman grown, you will not outgrow my love for you so long as I live.”

Y/N nods. “I love you dearly, mother. I want only to make you proud.”

“I am proud.” Rhaenyra assures her, “you needn’t prove yourself to me.”

“Then might I ask you to set a place for my husband at your table? Say it is not too late.”

“And what of Aemond?” Rhaenyra asks, mulling it over.

“He is gone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes.” Y/N whispers.

“Show me.”

Y/N lifts her nightgown to reveal the charred skin of her wound.

“Alright,” Rhaenyra lowers the material once she’s gotten a good look. She kisses the top of her daughter’s head, “we will have the maester come with salve to dress it.”

Y/N nods.

“Have you taken anything for the pain?”

“Milk of the poppy.”

Rhaenyra’s hand is trembling as it passes over her daughter’s hair a second time. “Aegon, might you bring the maester?”

“Of course,” he nods. Stealing himself before wandering down the hall and away from his beloved wife. Returning with the maester, who begins tending the wound immediately.

“Is there anything else I might get you?” Rhaenyra asks, keeping hold of her daughter’s hand.

Y/N is mostly joking when she murmurs to her mother, “cake?”

Rhaenyra smiles, “I will see to it.”

Y/N relaxes as best she can to the poking and prodding.

“Aegon,” Rhaenyra nods toward the hall, “a word?”

“Of course,” Aegon follows her out.

“I owe you a debt, for taking care of my daughter. Y/N is the world to me, as she is to you.” Rhaenyra says. “Know that as I walk this path to reclaim the throne, we do so hand in hand. We are one house, as our father so willed it.”

Aegon nods, “thank you.”

————————————————————————

Years ago, after the council meeting where Princess Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent agreed to the terms of their children’s betrothal; King Viserys himself called for Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N in his quarters.

It is put plainly before them, what is expected. What this union is meant to do; ease the strain between their two families.

“Stand together.” The king insists.

Y/N and Aegon inch toward each other.

“This will be expected of you from now on. You are betrothed, you will act as such.”

“Yes, father.”

“Yes, grandsire.”

At dinners they sit together, during shared lessons, anytime they are in the same room.

Stand together.

The princess continues her training alongside Helaena while her brothers and her betrothed argue regularly. The boys only find common ground when teasing Aemond for not having a dragon.

Queen Alicent appreciates these childish games least of all and raises her concerns with the King.

It is Y/N, having the least to do with any of it, who is summoned by her grandsire and his wife.

“Come sit, darling girl.” Viserys smiles, guiding Y/N over to his model of Old Valyria.

She nods, “thank you, your grace.”

“How are you enjoying your studies?”

“Very well,” Y/N tells him.

“I am glad to hear it. Even the septa has nothing but good things to say. You will make a fine queen, my girl.”

Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. “It pleases me to hear you say this, Grandsire. I wish only to make you proud.”

Viserys takes her hand, “surely you understand that you are a reflection of your mother and myself, in your actions and your words.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N squeezes his fingers.

“The time has come for you to consider those whose actions reflect on you.”

“I do not understand.”

“He is referring to your brothers, who wreak havoc on the whole of us.” Alicent chimes in.

“Oh, Alicent.” Viserys waves her away, “they are boys yet. I meant our Aegon.”

“Aegon?” Alicent scoffs, “those are the actions that trouble you?”

“He will soon be a man grown and future king consort. If he is to marry my granddaughter, he must act with dignity and grace.”

“Do you not see the true issue, your grace?” Alicent demands.

“You asked me to speak with Rhaenyra’s children,” Viserys reminds her, “is this not Rhaenyra’s child?”

Alicent locks eyes with Y/N, she is so young, so eager to please her family. “This child is not the issue.”

“You are correct, dear wife.” The king grins, “she is the solution. Y/N, you will go to Aegon, say what you must to light a fire beneath him. So that he too might behave in a manor befitting his station. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Good,” Viserys releases her, “go now.”

Y/N stands, making her way to the door.

“See how easy that was?” Viserys turns to his wife, now standing with her back to him.

Y/N has some trouble locating the Prince, eventually she happens upon him on the stairs. “Prince Aegon,” she calls his attention.

The boy rolls his eyes at her. “Yes, my betrothed.”

“Might you walk with me to the gardens?”

“Do I have any choice?”

Y/N smirks, with a shake of her head. “No.”

“By all means, lead the way.” Aegon waves a hand, following her like an animal on a chain.

“The king and I had a rather illuminating conversation earlier.”

“And what did you discuss? How elated he is to seat you, a bastard, on the iron throne over me, his first born son?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

“No, though I am sure he will be ‘elated’ to hear that his first born son called me a bastard, in the middle of the garden, for everyone to hear.”

Aegon clears his throat, “I would not say it in front of anyone.”

"This place is crawling with vermin, their eyes and ears are upon us at all times."

"You mean to tell me we have rats?"

"Not everything can be taken so literally, my prince."

Aegon stares through her, every word going over his pretty blonde head.

"Look, there's your father now." Y/N points, "watching us from his balcony."

Aegon whips around, spotting the king.

"Smile and wave, let him believe we are having a grand time."

Aegon does as he's told, earning a nod from Viserys. "Are we not?"

True to his word, Aegon does not call her a bastard again, to her face or behind her back. When Aemond’s eye is lost, the truth of it comes out.

Y/N and Aegon begin moving closer, behind Aemond’s chair. Stand together. Perpetually closing the space between their two houses.

When Alicent scolds Aegon for not protecting his brother, Y/N is near enough to receive a second hand lashing by her tongue. And when his mother’s palm meets his cheek, in a stinging slap, his hair brushes Y/N’s skin.

“What was that for?”

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool.”

“The legitimacy of my children’s births were called loudly to question.” Rhaenyra informs the king. “Vile insults were levied against them.”

“What insults?” Viserys sneers.

“He called us bastards.” Jacaerys says.

“Where did you hear such things, boy?” The king demands of the injured prince.

Aemond is quiet then, not willing to tell the truth. He first heard it from his mother, long before his brother. But Aegon has said it, many a time, before he abruptly stopped. “It was Aegon.”

Viserys rounds the chair, to confront his eldest son, with his eyes cast downward.

By the gods, let this humiliation end swiftly.

“Aegon!”

Stand together.

Y/N must not abandon her post.

“Yes, father.”

“Is this true?”

“It is.” Aegon admits, “and I am sorry for it. I am the elder, I should not have poisoned Aemond’s mind with such hatred. Especially as…these allegations are untrue. It was my mistake, forgive me.”

King Viserys takes a step back, “the next tongue to question the parentage of Princess Rhaenyra’s children will be removed.”

Y/N lets out a shuttering breath, catching her grandsire’s attention.

He offers her a reassuring smile, after threatening to cut out his children’s tongues. It feels wrong to be treated so differently, standing inches apart.

When the preceding is at an end, and Rhaenyra’s blood has been split, Y/N goes to find Aegon. He is tucked in against the grand archway, drowning in cups. "I brought you more wine."

Aegon eyes her warily, accepting the glass, “and what do you want?"

"May I sit with you?"

"If you wish."

Y/N takes a seat on the cool, stone floor beside him. "Thank you, for saying what you did.”

"My mother did not appreciate it."

Y/N hesitates, "I know it is not my place, but I do not like when she strikes you. Perhaps I could discuss it with your father?”

"My father? Who loves me least of all his children?" Aegon shakes his head. "A lot of good that would do.”

"They should not treat you that way."

“You care for me," he realizes. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.

"Should I not?”

"I would not know how to care for you in return."

"You defended me, in front of both our families.” Y/N challenges. “If that is not caring for me, I don't know what is."

Aegon feels the weight of her head resting against his shoulder, and he does not pull away.

"I am sorry for what happened to Aemond. I hope he finds peace and swift healing."

"If it were either of your brothers who’d been maimed, my father would pluck out Aemond’s eye himself and present it to Rhaenyra on a platter. There is no peace in that.”

Aegon becomes fiercely protective of his brother after that.

Y/N does not fault him for it.

The debacle of Driftmark sets their nuptials back several years. The blacks and greens remain in negotiation until Aegon is twenty and one and Y/N is ten and eight. At which point, Viserys proclaims they must either marry before the moon turns, or end the engagement to free both their hands for marriage.

Reluctantly, they are bound before the eyes of thousands.

Stand together.

They recite traditional Valyrian vows, sealing their covenant in blood. Sharing a dance or two before being whisked away to consummate said marriage, as other members of the wedding party drink merrily in the grand hall.

————————————————————————-

“Are they gone?” Y/N asks, toying anxiously with her wedding ring.

“They have strict orders,” Aegon sighs, “the appointed members of council cannot leave until they’ve heard a proper consummation.” He climbs into bed with her, both fully dressed in their marriage attire.

“We best get to it then.” Y/N begins plucking pins from her hair. The tapestry of braids falling free.

“Unless you’d rather have a bit of fun.”

“How do you mean?”

Aegon grins, “we could pretend.”

“Really?”

“This marriage is ours, no one else’s. When I bed you that will be ours and no one else’s.”

Stand together.

“How would we-”

Aegon rises up on his knees, gripping the headboard. “I will do the heavy lifting. Just lie back and think of the crown.”

Y/N covers her face with both hands as he begins thrusting at the air. The springs beneath them groan and crackle.

Aegon peeks down at her to find a smile painted across her lips, despite her shielded eyes. “Let them hear you, sweetheart. Make it believable.”

Y/N nods, releasing a sound she imagines a person might make while exchanging intimacies.

“Not like that.” Aegon chuckles, “they’ll think I’m murdering you.”

“I do not know how.”

“Have you never touched yourself?” He breathes.

“Never.”

Gods, he’s going to enjoy her. “That’s alright,” he continues his movements to jostle the mattress. “Just do as I do.” Aegon lets his mouth fall open, releasing a low moan.

The sound that escapes Y/N in return is not entirely forced. It makes her belly burn with desire.

They continue on like this for a while before Aegon murmurs, “big finish.”

“So quickly?” Y/N’s brow furrows.

Aegon’s eyes flicker about her, “I can’t imagine it will take long.”

As the grand finale comes to a close, Aegon makes for his dagger. Slicing his finger at the tip and allowing blood to pool before dragging the crimson stain across the bed sheet. He strips it from the bed, walking it to the door. “Deliver this to her majesty the Queen. I know she is impatiently waiting.”

Y/N begins pacing, beside the bed.

“They are gone. We are alone.”

She nods, “thank you, Aegon. For all of it.”

————————————————————————-

When Aegon does eventually bed her, it is well worth the wait.

“By the gods, that is not going to fit inside me.”

Aegon huffs a laugh, “I promise it will, darling girl. We must prepare you first.”

“How,” Y/N squeals.

He hushes her, lying open mouthed kisses across her collarbones.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if I can help it.” He plans to burying his face between her thighs and bring her to the heavens. But the sweet little thing wants only to be held, kissed. Aegon lies beside her, one hand stroking her dark hair, the other moving down to her breasts, kneading them gently.

“You are beautiful,” he breathes.

“As are you.” She pants, moving her lips against his.

Aegon chuckles, “flattery will get you places.” He rolls her nipple between his fingers, flicking over it with the pad of his thumb.

Her hips rise of their own accord, grinding herself against his entwined leg.

“Slowly, my darling.”

Y/N nods, kissing him again to distract herself from the building ache between her legs.

Feather light caresses trail down to her sex, collecting a bit of wetness and slipping a finger into her heat. Pumping slowly, getting her used to the sensation.

“That feels nice.” She breathes, tugging at his hair.

Aegon smiles, “can you take another?”

“Yes.”

Aegon adds a second digit, working her open, pushing a bit deeper to her sweet spot. His fingers curl against it, relishing her little gasps. The princess is close now.

“Ahh,” she grasps his forearm.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

“I-”

“Don’t cry.” By the seven, she is gripping his fingers like a vise.

“I cannot help it.” Her thighs tremble in earnest now.

“That is your peak, darling girl. You’re alright, I promise.” He continues stroking, pressing the base of his hand flush with her swollen pearl, applying gentle pressure until she finds bliss. He pets at her hair as she cries out. “Good girl,” he coos, working her through the crest and bringing her back down.

“That was heavenly,” she sighs, steadying her breathing.

You are heavenly.

“Might we do it again?”

Aegon chuckles, “as many times as you’d like.”

————————————————————————

In the early days of their marriage, Aegon realizes that his wife has a nasty habit of bedding him and waiting until he finds sleep to sneak off. Holding after hours council with her mother.

The practice itself does not upset him, but this night, her absence is especially troubling, as they have been drinking since dinner. His sweet wife is not well versed in wine drinking. She laughed so hard she cried and then rode him to kingdom come.

Aegon tosses back the covers, pulling on his clothes and moving quickly through the halls of the keep. He rounds the nearest corridor, colliding with his wife, running at full speed. “Sweetheart?”

“I was looking for you,” Y/N smiles.

“Where have you been?”

“Well, I could not find sleep so I went to the maester to ask for a draft.”

“Then you’ve been to the maester?” Aegon holds her at arms length, searching for any sign of harm.

“I was on my way to the maester when I happened across one of the groundskeeper’s wives and we got to talking.” Y/N admits, with a hiccuping laugh.

“What could you possibly be talking about for over an hour?”

“Just about everything, she is a lovely woman.” Y/N tells him.

Aegon nods, with a patient smile.

“I might have stayed longer, but it came up in conversation…all the ways a woman might please her husband. And I could not wait to tell you.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

“The smallfolk share things in the marriage bed I’ve never even heard of.” Y/N muses. “She told me that, on occasion, she puts his cock between her breasts and he-”

“Who is this woman, my darling? Did you get a name?”

“I do not remember her name. I’ve been drinking.”

“I’m well aware,” Aegon’s face softens. “Next time you cannot find sleep, wake me instead.”

Y/N nods.

“In return, I will teach you all the things a husband and wife might do together. I will even demonstrate, should you find it necessary.”

“Oh, could you?” Y/N grabs for his hands, in excitement.

Aegon sighs, “you will be the death of me.”

She leaves him little notes each time after, when she must go to attend her family.

‘My dearest Aegon, I will return soon. I could not stand to wake you from such a peaceful slumber. Worry not, I will always return to you.’

And she does, after council meetings and late nights with her mother. She always returns.

————————————————————————

After a particularly long week, Aegon avoids Y/N purposely. Attempting to clear the room when he finds her there.

“Have I done something?” Y/N stops him.

Aegon shakes his head, “it has been a long day. I do not wish to burden you.”

“When you are upset you may come to me.”

Aegon fights the urge to pull away, to ignore her until she leaves.

“I will hold you.” It isn’t much, but it is all she knows. The way her mother comforts her.

Aegon says nothing, sitting down to bury his head in his hands.

Y/N sighs, winding her arms around his shoulders, feeling them begin to shake.

He reaches for her slowly, as if such comfort might burn him, or she would simply bat his hand away. She doesn’t of course, she allows him to bring her closer, now seated in his lap.

The princess says not a word as her husband works himself free of his breeches. Taking her small clothes and skirt aside.

“It helps,” he tells her. “You help.”

He goes to her then, when the day is long. When there is news to share, on occasion, just to say hello. He goes to her because he can.

————————————————————————-

During dinners at the Red Keep they whisper secrets and share hushed laughter. When he grows tired of that, Aegon’s fingers toy with her pretty little cunt beneath the table, to watch her squirm.

“I love you.” He confesses, meeting her gaze as she turns to him at the height of her pleasure.

Y/N bites down on the inside of her cheek, holding perfectly still as Aegon works her through her peak. Withdrawing his fingers and wiping them clean on the fabric of her skirts. “I love you.”

No one is the wiser. Save for Otto, who knows all; or rather likes to believe he does.

Gone is any hope that the blacks or greens might use their influence to sway the tides from one side to another. Y/N and Aegon belong to each other now, a danger in its own right.

News of the princess’s pregnancy sparks a joyous celebration throughout the realm, only to be outshone by news of the birth. Two perfect little girls. Twins, named Dahlia and Visera, respectively.

“They are perfect, my dearest love.” Aegon marvels when they are placed in his arms.

Y/N nods.

“Are you well?” He asks, swaying from side to side.

Whether from weariness or the question itself, Y/N bursts in to tears.

Aegon carefully gives his daughters over to the maids. Climbing onto the freshly dressed bed with Y/N to hold her, stroking dark locks. “Shh, it’s alright.”

“It was awful,” Y/N sobs, clutching at him.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Everyone was barking commands at me, trying to rush the babe out, even worse with the second and my mother was the one person speaking against it.”

“Oh, my darling girl.” He sighs.

“I was tired and frightened…and the pain is unimaginable. I do not wish to do it again.”

Aegon sways her gently, “I am so terribly sorry.”

“You are the only person I wanted and I could not h-have you.”

“We will deliver the next just the two of us, if it pleases you.” Aegon promises.

“Your mother will never allow that.”

“She will not know.” Aegon kisses her cheek.

Y/N pulls back just enough to see him. “If you’re certain.”

“I am. Calm yourself now, my only love. This is a day of happiness.” Aegon dries her tears, “I should like to soak up every moment here, with the three of you.”

Y/N nods, “I would like that very much.”

At the prince’s request, Visera and Dahlia are returned to them.

Aegon takes his second born, tracing the soft lines of her little face, committing them to memory. “Papa loves you.”

Y/N grins at the sight, her own finger clutched in her eldest daughter’s fist.

It comes as a shock to only Alicent when Dahlia Targaryen is named their heir; with her claim upheld by Viserys himself. Aegon does not need a son, his daughters are his legacy.

They attend small council meetings as they grow, with Dahlia seated on her grandsire’s lap.

“Mama,” Visera pounds at the table, drawing attention from the other seats.

“What is it, my darling girl?” Y/N hushes her, hoping to hear their current positions on livestock.

The little girl reaches for the ball again. “Please?”

“What is it she wants?” Aegon asks, from beside his wife, pecking kisses to his daughter’s outstretched hand.

“The ball.” Y/N whispers.

“Ahh,” Aegon smiles, taking his ball in hand and turning it over to Visera. “There we are.”

“You’ll spoil her rotten.”

“Just like her mother, hmm?” Aegon jests, “that is the goal.”

Y/N bites back a grin, passing a hand over her daughter’s light hair.

Their daughters celebrate their third name day before the princess is expecting again.

“There seems to be only one of you in there, I fear.” Aegon whispers to the child in Y/N’s belly, pressing kisses to her skin.

“You fear?” His wife smiles.

“You see, three is an odd number, this child will need a companion.” The prince reasons.

Y/N doesn’t argue, listening to Aegon speak with their unborn babe until she falls asleep.

————————————————————————

Y/N’s term is nearly complete when Aegon finds his wife, holding their wailing daughters in her arms. One on each side of her belly.

“What’s happened?” Aegon asks.

Y/N looks to him, “the girls were playing and Visera closed the door on Dahlia’s finger by mistake. Now they are both inconsolable.”

Aegon reaches for his eldest daughter, “let Papa see, which finger is hurt.”

“My little finger,” Dahlia cries, presenting the red, angry digit.

“That does look terrible painful, my dearest love.” Aegon says, after carefully examination.

“I must have the maester.”

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Aegon presses feather light kisses to her hand. “We need a cold compress is all.”

The maids rush out to fulfill his request.

Dahlia rests her head against her father’s shoulder as she waits, sniffling while he rubs circles into her back.

“See there, darling girl? Your sister is alright.” Y/N gentles Visera, who is feeling incredibly guilty.

“I did not mean to.”

“Of course not, my love.” Aegon says, “twas only an accident.”

The rest of their day is spent playing dolls and Aegon giving pony rides. Which, while ridiculous, does serve as a form of entertainment for Y/N who sits aside to watch.

She may give birth any day now and she feels every bit uncomfortable, still she welcomes Dahlia into her lap as she waits for her turn on Aegon, the noble steed.

“Trot,” Visera orders, with a smile across her face.

“Trot?” Aegon laughs, “shall I do tricks for you as well, your grace?”

Y/N shakes her head, locking eyes with her husband; she mouths a single word, “spoiled.” She kneads the ache in her lower back with her free hand. Ignoring it through supper and long after Dahlia and Visera are asleep.

Aegon notices the way she keeps clutching at it. “Perhaps a warm bath might help.”

“That would be nice,” she croaks out.

“Might it be your labors, darling girl?”

“It is all in my back,” she does not recall hardly any pain in her back, whilst laboring with the twins. “I must have pulled it.”

“The girls are getting bigger, perhaps it’s best if you do not lift them, in this condition.” Aegon kisses her cheek, dashing off to find a maid.

Y/N inhales, closing her eyes to the dull throbbing ache. Even the tub does not help, she climbs back into bed, hoping to sleep it off, but the pain only intensifies.

“This must be more than a muscle.” Aegon whispers, lying behind her. Continuing to knead her hips at her request.

“It is my labors.” My chokes out.

“You’re certain?”

Y/N nods, “my waters just broke.”

Aegon presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Is there anything I might do for you?”

She shakes her head. “Walking will help the babe come down, I must stand.”

Aegon springs from the bed, helping her upright.

“Fuck.” She hisses, beginning to pace their rooms.

Aegon follows, unsure what else to do.

She reaches out for him after a while, when the pain is so great all she wants is an ounce of comfort.

“I’m here.” Aegon murmurs, wrapping her in his arms as she sways gently from side to side.

Y/N clings to her husband, breathing him in. Focusing her attention on the sweetness of his words, to distract herself from her labors. “I’ll need to push soon.”

“Of course,” Aegon’s done his best to prepare himself. Studying whatever books he could manage, without drawing attention from prying eyes. Highborn ladies do not have children delivered by their husbands.

Queen Alicent will be livid when she finds out, but it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Y/N climbs atop the bed, remaining modestly covered.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, my darling. I’ve seen your cunt a hundred times.” Aegon flips her nightgown up, positioning her legs apart, bent at the knee. “There we are.”

“This is different, surely.” Y/N bares down as her belly contracts.

“Yes and no,” he pats her thigh.

She keeps a firm grip on his hand, crying out despite her best efforts.

“Alright, that’s alright.” Aegon scrambles for something to muffle it. “Might this work?” His belt.

“Yes.” Y/N takes it from him, stuffing the leather strap into her mouth. She is not entirely silent, little whimpers escape, though not enough to alert the guards.

Aegon is patient, kind, whispering words of encouragement. He never rushes her, brushing his hands across her skin. “There you go, my dearest love.” He can see the child’s head now.

Her eyes water, gritting her teeth so tightly they ache.

“Breathe.”

Y/N draws in a breath through her nose, releasing it in a strangled manner, akin to a dying animal.

“Good girl,” Aegon is prepared to catch the infant.

The princess’s head falls back as the child emerges, connected to her by only the afterbirth.

“Slippery little fellow, aren’t you?” Aegon coos, holding his son in his arms.

The infant begins to wail.

“A boy?” Y/N pants, tossing the belt away to catch her breath.

“Yes, my darling girl.” Aegon grins, “how are you?”

There is still pain, there will always be pain, but it is largely outweighed by the image of Aegon holding their son. She bursts into tears, “I am well.”

“Oh dear,” he frowns, carefully maneuvering his newborn son. He lies the infant against her chest, leaning down to comfort her as best he can. “Was it not what you wanted?”

“It was better, my love.” Y/N assures him, counting their babe’s tiny fingers. “I am overjoyed.”

“Overjoyed,” Aegon huffs, clunking his forehead against hers. “Of course that is why you’re crying.”

The maesters come after a while, to be sure that Y/N and the babe are well. After receiving the all clear, they are finally able to rest. Waking early in the morn to present the newest member of their family.

Y/N is tired and sore, even now, lying abed doesn’t suit her. She sits upon a cushion, in a loose fitting gown, tracing the slope of her new babe’s nose. “Are you nearly ready, my love?”

“Nearly,” Aegon remarks. While fastening his breeches he discovers the shapes notched into his belt. He lets out a laugh.

“What is it?” Y/N smiles.

“Look,” he rounds the stool, jutting out his hips.

“Your cock?” The princess arches a brow. “I have seen it.”

“Here, darling girl.” He grins, tracing the outline of her indentations. “From your teeth.”

Her cheeks heat up, “you must take it off.”

“Take it off?” Aegon frowns, “this is a badge of honor. I will wear it day in and day out.”

“You are insufferable,” Y/N sighs.

Aegon pecks a kiss to her parted lips, silencing any protest and setting off to gather the rest of their children.

Y/N dearly misses her mother and brothers in Dragonstone.

————————————————————————

In the months after Laenor’s birth Y/N begins searching for a teacher willing to help her learn a skill most princesses never acquire. Leading her to seekout a man she never has before.

“I want to train by the sword.”

Aemond pauses his sparring practice. “Surely I misunderstand you, dear niece.”

“You are the best, I require a tutor.” Y/N puts it plainly.

“I must be, if you are asking me, of all people.”

“I will admit, you were not my first choice. But Aegon refuses to so much as raise a sword against me and my brothers never cared for knocking me down; where as you will have no qualms about it.”

Aemond smirks, “this is true.”

“I also thought it might be a way for you and I to come together…as family.”

Aemond squares his shoulders, “very well then. Take up your sword.”

The two of them have something in common at long last, until Princess Y/N falls pregnant again, some months later.

Viserys’ condition continues to deteriorate, it is unclear if he will survive to see Y/N and Aegon’s fourth child. As luck would have it, he is lucid when the Prince and Princess present their second son, Prince Aegon, fourth of his name.

“Well done, my girl.” The king manages.

Y/N smiles, “Aegon helped.”

“I should expect so,” Viserys laughs.

“I meant only that he too deserves a job well done.”

Viserys looks to her, as if seeing her for the first time. Then turning to his son he whispers, “well done, my boy.”

Aegon is taken aback, “thank you, father.”

————————————————————————

News of Lord Corlys Velaryon’s injury in the Step Stones brings forth Vaemond Velaryon’s petition to be named his brother’s successor over Lucerys.

This business, however unpleasant, brings Rhaenyra and her children back to King’s Landing.

“We were planning to visit in a few months time, after the babe was born.” Rhaenyra tells her daughter. “But it is always a joy to see you, darling girl.”

Y/N hugs her mother, tightly, “I’ve missed you.”

Rhaenyra strokes a hand over her daughter’s hair. “I have missed you terribly.”

King Viserys musters his last bit of strength to affirm his position for Lucerys and make known that his daughter, Rhaenyra, will always be the true heir to the throne.

They break bread, the blacks and greens together, once the petition is settled. Getting along for a time, until the king is taken back to his chambers to rest. A fight breaks out between Jace, Luce and Aemond, causing Rhaenyra’s untimely departure. She intends to return alone, on dragon back, after the children are settled at home.

Y/N finds sleep that night with a renewed sense of peace, waking to anything but.

Aegon is in an odd state of dress, as if he’s thrown clothes on in the dark. Pacing at the foot of their bed; muttering to himself.

“Aegon?” The princess rubs at her eyes, hoping to make sense of it.

“My father is dead.”

Y/N sucks in a breath.

“My mother and grandsire are gathering the smallfolk for my coronation, in the dragon pit.”

“Why? Alicent herself said that my mother would make a fine Queen only hours ago.”

“In the end it was my name Viserys spoke,” Aegon whispers. “To my mother, on his deathbed.”

Oh no, gods no. Viserys wouldn’t. “What exactly did he say?”

“It matters not, my dearest love. I intend to uphold your mother’s claim.”

“How?” By taking her throne?

“I know you do not trust my family, as well you shouldn’t. You know my heart, you know what I want. They are rushing into this because they know it is wrong. I have pleaded with them, to no avail.” Aegon says. “If it is a performance they demand, so that we might seize the crown to later unfuck this line of succession, it is a performance they will have.”

Y/N nods, pressing a hand to her chest, in a desperate attempt to settle her breathing.

“We’re going to wash you up and dress you in the finest gown the realm has ever seen. Then you are going to stand at my side as they bend the knee, to try it on for size. Think of it as preparation for the day you are crowned our true queen, after your mother has ruled for a great many years.”

Again she nods.

“Are you calm enough now or do you still need me?” Aegon asks, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“I need you.”

Stand together.

————————————————————————

In nearly two days time the realm is divided, half of them devoted to Rhaenyra’s claim, the other half to Aegon’s. After Aegon is crowned, Otto Hightower continues to play his hand.

“What are we to do?” Y/N wonders.

“My mother sent Aemond to Storm’s End. Lord Baratheon was easily swayed by the promise of Daeron’s hand for one of his daughters.”

“That is good, is it not? An ally of ours is an ally of my mother’s, in time.”

“There is more,” Aegon admits, wringing his hands.

Y/N laces their fingers together instead, “speak it.”

“I wish so badly that I did not have to tell you.”

“Please, Aegon.” She insists.

“There was an incident.”

Y/N nods, urging him to continue.

“Between Aemond…and your brother Lucerys.”

“What?” Her eyes brim with tears, as though her heart already knows.

“Lucerys was there, delivering a message from your mother. Aemond followed him, on dragon back. I do not think Aemond meant to truly harm him.” Aegon watches the lone drop of moisture cascade over her cheek. “Lucerys is dead.”

The princess’s knees buckle and she falls, with pain in her chest is so great, her lungs cannot expand.

Aegon gentles her to the floor, into his lap as she sobs so violently it shakes the pair of them. There is nothing he can say, and so he holds her, until she has no tears left.

The next weeks drag on quite the same, they pretend for their children, but Y/N struggles.

She sits the small council meeting, listening to news of Rhaenyra’s blockade and its effect on the kingdom.

The doors push open, revealing Aemond.

Y/N nearly churns. Balling her hands so tightly into fists the nails break skin.

“The key to victory is through the Riverlands.” Aemond narrates, “we need to establish a toehold there, at Harrenhal.”

Y/N pushes away from the table, trembling with the force of her rage.

Aegon reaches for her, feeling his heart sink as she backs away, with both arms wrapped around herself. Trapped beneath the watchful eyes of the council. “My darling, I did not invite him here.”

“Tis true,” Aemond confirms, “I am here of my own volition.”

There is that, at least.

“Do you have something to say, my queen?”

Y/N’s back remains to Aemond, and the strategy board, “Prince Aemond is a traitor and a murderer, who deserves to swing in the streets for what he has done. Instead he attends meetings of the small council. It is clear I hold little value to any member of this court. I will not sit here and listen to this depravity.”

“Y/N.” Aegon rises from his seat, shifting between feet, anxiously.

“I am through, my king.”

Aegon recoils as if she’s slapped him.

“Unless you are commanding me to stay,” she replies, with venom in her voice.

“Of course not, my dearest love.”

Y/N exits the double doors, moving down the hall at record speed.

Aegon twirls the council ball between his fingers to settle his racing heart. This was once his father’s seat, where his children would sit, back when all was as it should be. Now his children are not welcome and his wife would sooner abandon ship than remain at his side. “Get out.” He says to his brother.

Aemond sighs.

“Get out!” Aegon slams his fist against the table, “from now on, you will make yourself scarce amongst these halls. If you happen across my wife, you will make haste in the opposite direction, she will not be forced to look upon your face again. Do you understand?”

Aemond bows his head, “as you wish, your grace.”

Y/N retreats to her children’s rooms, finding them empty. They must be in with Helaena’s twins again. She finds the six of them in Jaehaera’s room, playing together while Helaena sews her tapestry.

“How is it coming along?” Y/N asks, taking a seat beside her.

“Quite well.”

“Glad to hear it.” Y/N taps at her wedding ring, “do you find it relaxing? Mayhaps I should take up sewing.”

“I’m afraid.” Helaena says, setting her work aside.

“Of what?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“The rats.”

Y/N nods, hoping to understand. “What is it about them that frightens you?”

Helaena falls silent, a far off look in her eyes.

“I could look into them.” Y/N offers, instead. “The rats.”

Helaena blinks at her. “Would you?”

“Yes, of course. Perhaps with proper knowledge of their ways you need not fear them.”

Helaena smiles, “that would be nice.”

“I will head down to the library then, once the children are abed.”

After their baths, princess Y/N brushes through each of her children’s hair in turn. Her two year old son sits in her lap first. Laenor’s hair has wave to it, like Aegon’s. She twists a bit of it around her finger.

“Mama,” the little boy begins bouncing, impatiently.

“Yes, sweet boy?”

“All done,” he tells her.

Y/N huffs a laugh, squeezing him in a hug before releasing him, “off you go then.”

Laenor giggles, bounding away happily.

“Alright, my darling girls, who is next?”

Dahlia looks to Visera, who stares back at her, exclaiming in unison, “I am!” The pair comes charging at her, landing in the small space, side by side.

“My goodness, you have gotten so big.” Y/N groans as she repositions them. Taking turns swiping the bristles through their long, silver, hair before weaving in simple braids, one down each of their backs.

“Where is father?” Dahlia wonders.

Y/N swallows, “performing his duties.”

“What about us?” Visera asks.

“Your father loves you dearly,” Y/N kisses each of their heads. “He wants nothing more than to be with you. Sometimes there are things we must do, for the sake of the crown that require us to be parted from those we love, for a short while.”

The girls nod.

“One day, when you are grown, you will understand. In the meantime, please know that his heart is with you, always. He will never be far.”

Visera and Dahlia turn, holding their mother tight.

“I will see you on the morrow.” Y/N pats their backs, watching them take to their beds.

Her youngest child is brought to her last, wrapped in a silk blanket and wailing at the top of his lungs.

Y/N stands to collect him. “Now, now, my prince, what business do you have causing all that fuss?” Y/N coos at the babe in her arms.

Aegon the fourth quiets instantly, staring up at his mother while kicking his little legs.

“That’s what I thought.” Y/N remarks, sitting down in the arm chair to rock him to sleep. “You are so loved, my darling.” She strokes his dark hair and his tired eyes begin to close, “sweet dreams.”

With the prince safely abed, Y/N leaves the children in the care of their guards and maids, to see what books they might have about rats in the library. The selection is limited, of course, so she decides on a bound copy recounting the great plague. Its pages contain great detail about the little critters and their lives.

She finds herself more engrossed in it than she could have anticipated. The princess hardly hears her husband enter their rooms.

“What story is that now, my dearest love?” He asks, shucking off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.”

Part 5

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