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thargelalia · 3 months ago

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Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?”

“Yes.”

“…is it something I did?”

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?”

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face.

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood.

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side.

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM.

A five hour nap. Nice.

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen.

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.”

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him.

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful.

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice.

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter.

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home.

Isn’t that so cute?

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy.

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.”

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.”

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely.

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow.

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes. “You think I only read fiction?”

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?”

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?”

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital.

Two, he knows you worry about his safety.

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home.

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other.

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth.

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.”

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.”

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder.

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.”

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement.

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy.

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments.

Especially not to the most precious person of his life.

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging.

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul.

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out.

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt.

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace.

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?”

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…”

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.”

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.”

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.”

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.”

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.”

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.”

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well.

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner.

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly.

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

#this is totally self-indulgent btw #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc fanfic #jason todd x y/n #dc imagine #red hood fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfiction

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

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Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Word Count: 9,240 (oops) | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @solisarium for the artwork! 🥰 Please also support all the other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, and thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organising this event ❤

Warnings: arranged marriage, virginity loss, p in v sex, domination, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, canon typical sexism, aemond has a breeding kink (obvi), dark!aemond (ish)

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

To the realm. His title. But most of all, his family.

As a Prince of the Realm, he had many duties.

For most of his adult life he had trained relentlessly with the sword, striving to become better than his own teacher.

He had buried his nose in books, absorbing information from them, willing them to stick to the insides of his head to obtain intelligence unmatched by any other member of his family.

And, most of all, he had upheld his faithful relationship with his mother, whom he cherished dearly, and his sister equally.

He'd always felt close to the women in his life. But his mother had a special place in his heart. She had been through such hardships, such sacrifice.

And when she'd exploded that night in Driftmark, as inexcusable as she seemed the behaviour to be, he had felt such utter devotion towards her that she would be so angry on his behalf. At a time when he had felt so vulnerable, and felt that his own voice as well as hers had been ignored by the man in their lives.

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him sought pleasure in the fact his father was largely bed-bound these days. Even more so that his own father had lost an eye as a result of his worsening condition.

It felt like the Gods were looking down on him and validating him.

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

Unfortunately for him, that time was upon him, and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

As much as Alicent tried, and she really did try, she could not get her second son interested in courting the ladies at the Keep.

As soon as Aemond clapped an eye on the opposite sex, he would retreat in the opposite direction. Not even bothering to engage in conversation, surmising perhaps that he had little in common with them.

He'd never met a lady before who shared the same interests, why start actively seeking them out now?

Alicent's son was in his prime, rooted in adulthood, and she knew it was time, like it or not, that he was wed.

Aemond stood stock still, hands behind his back curled into fists, biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to show his mother the annoyance on his face. Her words were those of truth. He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.

What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned.

That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.

Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.

He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

And mercifully, Aemond sighed with relief that she was not.

Something struck deep within his chest. His mother spoke of her so wonderfully, as if she were a star plucked from the sky, and Aemond pondered if such attributes could be proven correct by simply meeting her once, as Alicent had. What woman, and of what standing, deserved such praise, after only meeting for a short time?

What would she look like? Her mannerisms, her stature, her smile? He found himself haunted by these thoughts without even knowing the woman’s name. Much less, her appearance.

He feared that she might share the same sentiments as the other ladies at court once they were due to meet, chaperoned by her ladies and tainted by their company. Perhaps they had their own opinions that they instilled on her also. She might be afraid of him, he thought. Maybe it is not so bad if she feared him, he allowed himself to think.

Aemond could not find it in his heart to expose himself so willingly to a stranger he was due to wed, and so when word reached the Keep that she had arrived and made her pleasantries, he thought to have mercy on the poor thing, stay clear and not dim her supposed ethereal presence with the darkness that followed at his back since the day he lost his eye.

There was some power in not allowing her to see him until their wedding day.

While a small part of him felt empathetic to the poor girl, that her betrothed chose not to greet her on arrival, another part of him was somewhat self-assured that he had made the right decision. It was the little power he felt he had.

When one thinks of a wedding, they might imagine the Sept beaming with joy, crammed with people all eager to feast their eyes on the new royal couple. But as Aemond stood before the Septon, with the extended feeling of nervousness at the fact she had yet to arrive, he could hear nothing.The Sept was dead silent. The people, the lords and ladies, as well as his family, were in attendance, watching with wide, curious eyes, too terrified to make a sound.

His hands were rigid behind his back, dressed in his finery, feeling the tightness of his clothes against his chest where his heart was hammering underneath.

For duty. For family.

He did not see her at first, as she was on his blind side, but once she’d well and truly stepped beside him, he spared a glance at her and felt his mouth go utterly dry.

Her dress, which he presumed were her house colours, was a light pastel, almost dream-like when combined with the translucent silky fabric graced atop it. He watched with curiosity as she let go of her father’s hand. Her gaze and almost undetectable smile was warm and inviting, as if the space around her was simply alight with her presence. Her father peeled the cloak from her shoulders, and it reminded him that he had the cloak with the Targaryen colours fisted in his grip.

Her hair was pinned up in a series of braids, all varying in size, and he was ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind was not that she looked beautiful with them, but that they must be uncomfortable. He was allowed to have his hair loose around his shoulders, whereas this woman, and he supposed others like her, were prodded and poked to look their best to the detriment of their comfort.

Aemond found it impossible to stare ahead and listen to the Septon, and he could’ve let a heavy breath loose when he was asked to cloak her. He swallowed over the lump in his throat that had formed and lifted his gaze to look down at her. Her bright, warm eyes looked up at him, revealing nothing about what she was really thinking, and her lips were full and looked soft, forcing him to think what they would feel like when they would sign their marriage with a kiss later.

He took a breath and placed the cloak on her shoulders, half thinking that such a heavy, large thing would swallow her whole, for her form was smaller than his, and therefore more delicate. Placing his hands on her, but not directly, still felt somewhat intimate, especially in a room of so many people watching. But something stirred deep within when he stepped back and observed that the colours complimented her, like she was meant to be his and belong to him.

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

Aemond watched every micro-movement. The fluttering of her eyelashes, the deep intakes of breath through her nose and her thumb brushing over her hand, in what he could only assume was nerves, though she was hiding it well on her face.

It was only here that he noticed she wore a dainty pearl necklace, not at all gaudy in size, but small and delicate, like he perceived her to be.

A feeling he didn’t know hummed in his blood. And it showed when both of them were asked to conclude the ceremony with a kiss.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

Aemond had to be the one to lean down to meet her in the middle, and he felt his blood thrum when their lips met, excited to find that her lips were as soft as he had imagined. He could not help the lewd thought that passed through his mind, and wondered if the rest of her was as supple and luxurious.

Curse the wedding feast, he wanted to find out right after the ceremony.

He was not overzealous with the kiss, not wanting to frighten her. But he was equally delighted when they parted to the applause of the lords and ladies, to find that her cheeks were faintly bloomed with warmth. His lips pulled into an indistinct smile at the idea that he was the first man that would have made her feel that way, and it pulled a possessive string in Aemond’s body towards her.

He took her hand in his and led her away from the Septon, through the line of people, and relished in the fact that she was now his. Aemond felt somewhat ashamed when his manhood began to harden within his breeches at the mere touch of her hand, and wondered what hers would look like wrapped around it. If her fingers could barely encircle it, and if she would be good and pliant, do as she’s told, and please him.

The wine during the feast surprisingly did nothing to quell the hardness between his legs. He yearned so desperately for her, sat right next to him, posture straight and proper like a good lady wife, with her hands clasped so delicately in her lap. She had yet to say a word to him and he thought she must have been raised very strict, not speaking to her betters without being spoken to first, and now that person was her husband.

It was difficult not to look unimpressed when the various lords and ladies all queued up to provide their congratulations to the intimate little table he and his wife were seated at during the feast.

He watched his mother beam with joy, though he and his wife had not spoken. Aegon had snickered, clearly thinking something inappropriate. And Otto had bowed, offering congratulations as if he had not been involved in the match behind the scenes along with Alicent the entire time. Did he think he was stupid?

Not even his father had managed to pull himself from his bed to offer his congratulations. But, Aemond thought then, he was glad he didn't have to see his face.

At times he could suppress his sheer boredom and impatience, he wanted them all to leave him alone so he could fuck his wife and see what pretty sounds she could make. With the absence of her voice, it only made him more impatient to find out.

Surely, the girl might not have been afraid of him? He thought.

Aemond almost regretted hoping she was afraid of him, but there was some dull excitement in thinking she was, even now, with how beautiful she looked. When he takes her maidenhead, as he was sure she was entirely pure, would her soft eyes look up at him in fear, or in pleasure, or both?

He found his gaze wandering over her for several quiet moments, watching her profile as she scanned the hall, observing everyone else enjoying themselves. Whilst he appeared somewhat indifferent to her to anyone else’s untrained eye, he was otherwise calm and collected. Her lips glistened against the warm amber glow of the candles adorning the table, and he could not hide his delight in seeing how she swallowed nervously. She must have felt his gaze on her, he thought. And as he watched her throat bob, he was drawn to her chest, where the pearls lay, and watched as her breathing pushed her breasts somewhat over the bust of her dress.

He imagined those pearls dancing while he fucked her, her breasts moving with the rhythm of driving his cock into her sweet wetness. Her lips parted with hurried breaths as she struggled to gain it while she appeased him with the sound of her soft moans.

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

The insides of him glimmered in excitement when she turned, her posture still perfect and straight. Her wide, innocent eyes met his with curiosity, and also fright that he had spoken to her in such a way. She almost seemed to flinch at the new title he’d referred to her as.

She gave an almost indistinguishable nod, her grip tightening on her hands, “Yes, husband, thank you.” She replied with a wavering voice.

She studied him for a moment, watching as he gave a lopsided smirk, adoring the way she seemed so nervous in his presence, and speaking to her husband. He drank slowly, continuing to watch her squirm under his gaze. Her breathing had hastened, evident by the way she struggled under the tight confines of her boned dress.

Her voice was smooth, like the sweetest honey, and he couldn’t wait to hear how it would translate, echoing throughout their marital chambers, with his flesh pressed against hers.

He never imagined merely envisioning power over something so delicate could be so exhilarating.

Aemond had to hide how elated he was when their leave was announced. He stood, and therefore she did as well, like a delayed little shadow.

She was an obedient little thing, he surmised, as she followed quietly, willfully ignorant to the leering glances and smirks of the lords and ladies who parted a path for them. Every single one of them was curious, as to how such a quiet, soft girl could tame someone so fearsome and chaotic as a dragon prince, who could not be caged in as mere mortal men could.

The chambers seemed too grand, too clunky, to house such a perfect thing as her, he thought. She stood stock still in the middle of his chambers, which he would now share with her, and watched amused as she looked around and took in her surroundings as if she were in some kind of danger. Her pupils flitted about the darkened room, lit only in a warm glow from various candlesticks placed most deliberately.

Her pale dress cast a glow against the grey of the room, as well as her aura, which seemed to lift all the tension from his body and direct it to the place he had needed her the most since he laid his eye on her.

The glass decanter clinked as he poured himself a cup of wine, his back to her.

Aemond turned and extended the decanter only slightly, asking wordlessly if she would like one as well.

But she simply wringed her hands and shook her head, her body wracked with nerves.

Aemond only chuckled, cup of wine in hand and looked upon her, standing so diligently, where he’d left her.

“Wine might dull your nerves, my lady wife.” He mused, watching the way she looked down in embarrassment at being able to see inside her head so clearly.

Every now and then, she would peek over at the well made bed, like it was an inevitability, and not a place where she would share her most intimate and passionate moments with her new husband.

There was a dark red blanket held taught atop the pale sheets.

A warning.

There were never such dark, stark colours atop her bed sheets at home, and she wondered silently why they would choose such a menacing colour to adorn a place where you may lay your head to rest.

A peaceful night’s sleep. A moment’s passion. The birth of a child.

She thought, beds are where we are born, where we sleep, where marriages are made, where women give birth, which is often their last. And where we die. Not necessarily in that order.

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

But to her, many dangerous things may take place in a bed. And she had heard the stories of a dragon’s temper. Of lords, not necessarily of royal standing, taking their wives on their wedding night, whether their wives were willing or not. And this, is what she feared.

“You need not be so afraid.”

He tore her from her thoughts. And she blushed and felt warm all over realising he had caught her staring at the bed, her body betraying how nervous she felt.

When he looked at her, he felt his manhood throb. He wondered if the blood would rush to her cunny the same way it rushed to her cheeks, and how her flesh would cover her delicious curves beneath the softness of her gown.

He felt excited when she opened her mouth, forcing the air into her lungs like it took all her effort.

“May I ask for your assistance with my gown, husband?” She asked sweetly, with her eyes downcast.

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

He poked his cheek with his tongue in amusement, pushing himself off what he was leaning on and made towards her, watching the way she shrunk the closer he got. She turned slowly, showing him her back, where the laces of her dress were tied so tightly, he was surprised she had not asked him sooner.

While he worked on them, loosening the fabric around her middle, his breath hitched when he saw the shift underneath. She moved her hands to her hair, pulling several pins from it where the braids had been twisted together. She visibly shivered under his touch when the laces were undone and he pushed the stiff fabric apart across her back.

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she used the sharpened tip of the pins to undo the braids into delicate wavy strands, all while unaware how her new husband marvelled at her out of sight.

She walked away from him for a moment to the vanity, never meeting the looking glass with her eyes, but simply placing the pins in a trinket bowl. With the gown loosened around her shoulders, the fabric lifted when she reached up to unclasp the necklace.

“Leave that on.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, questioning. Her cheeks alight with what he was suggesting.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So instead, she cleared her throat quietly, and pulled the heavy dress from her shoulders, folding it lengthways and draping it over an armchair. Her fingers clasped and unclasped, anxious. Aemond merely watched, his doublet feeling tight and hot against his chest. He could make out the silhouette of her form beneath the thin cotton, the candlelight illuminating her, as if her body was the soft and gentle morning sun, peeking over the horizon to set the day alight.

He heard her shuddered breath and allowed himself to think about what it would feel like against his neck while he rutted into her. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer to her, to sink deeper into her hot insides.

“I do hope that…I please you…with my appearance.” She murmured, turning with her body to face him from a distance. She sounded embarrassed, and shy.

Aemond furrowed his brows.

“Why do you say such a thing?” He asked, colder than he had meant to sound. And it’s clear that the tone of it made her shudder more, which he didn’t intend.

“I only meant that…I hope I am pleasing to the eye…and that I shall be obedient and supportive, as a good wife should be.”

He fought the urge to smile, not wanting to embarrass her further. His silence towards her had clearly given her the wrong impression. That he didn’t approve of her, and perhaps she thought that she wasn’t suitable for him because of his reaction.

“Come here.”

She did as he asked, albeit slowly, until she stood right in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Does my appearance scare you, he thought with curiosity, and panic.

Does my ailment make you uneasy, as it does the other ladies?

She shook her head softly, “No.” She answered quietly, “It’s just… my Septa said…that the night of consummation would be…” she trailed off, speaking too quietly for him to hear.

“It is alright. Speak again, without fear.”

She swallowed as she looked at him, having to crane her neck.

“She said…the night of consummation would be painful…and that it must be endured. As wives are to be submissive and obedient to their husbands.”

She spoke as if she were speaking from a line in a book. And Aemond thought she must have had this idea stamped into her brain from a very young age. It both concerned and irritated him to think that a young child, forming into a young woman, would be forced into being so terrified of such intimacy by a caregiver who ultimately knew little about marriage.

“There will be some pain.” He replied simply, watching the way she flinched at his words, “But I do not wish for you to endure it simply because you have been told to.”

His fingers came to the tresses of hair that hung on her shoulders, threading his fingers through them and revelling in their softness. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted, absorbing his words, and he could see behind them that he was challenging everything she had ever been told.

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

She inhaled slowly, gathering her nerves, and nodded simply.

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

Though he spoke softer, there was still a coldness to the way he gave his demands. But nonetheless, she did as he said, and stared up to the canopy of the bed, feeling her heart going so fast she was sure it would burst from her chest.

All she heard was the rustling of leather, the unlooping of his belt, and the clinking of his silver clasps.

She felt the mattress dip at the end of the bed and saw her new husband, without his doublet, but with his breeches only untied halfway, so she could not see a thing. But even so, the sight of a man naked on his torso had her heart still in her chest, and warmth crawl up to her cheeks. Aemond chuckled slightly, not wishing to embarrass her.

“Have you seen a man bare before, little one?” He asked, laying down beside her. She tried with the utmost effort to not stare at him, fearing that in some way she would anger him. His chest was well-muscled and pale, shimmering in the low light of the chambers and littered with many tiny scars that had silvered with time. His hair ran like milk over his shoulders, so silky it seemed to stick to his smooth skin.

She shook her head, and mouthed ‘no’. His manhood throbbed in his breeches at the thought that she had not even seen a man beneath his clothes before, and that he would be the first.

“It is alright, there is no need to be embarrassed.” He gave her a soft smile, trying his best to appear comforting.

But it could not be ignored that they were strangers, and it was his fault that he had not gone to see her before marriage and get to know her better. And on top of that, she was afraid, not of him, but that he might hurt her and that it would define her expectations for the rest of the marriage.

She flinched noticeably in shock, not out of fear, but at not having been touched so intimately, when his palm ran softly up her leg, taking her shift with it.

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

She was so jumpy and nervous, Aemond wondered for a brief, funny moment, if she had even spoken to a man before today.

So he asked a question which he thought was almost silly to ask.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

His question was answered immediately when she flushed and her face went all warm, and suddenly she was unable to meet his gaze. She shook her head softly. And instead of feeling bad for her, a devilish grin split across his face, all the blood going south.

She was so pious, and so devoted to the Seven, that she had saved any part of her inner desires for her husband to be.

He would be the first to give her pleasure of any kind.

To touch her intimately.

To make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

“It is alright. I shall show you.” He added softly, his voice like the purr of a cat.

She dared to look back at him as his hand trailed higher, dipping beneath the hem of her shift to touch her smooth skin beneath, “How will it feel?...”

“It may feel strange at first,” He answered honestly, “But after that, it should be pleasurable.”

She seemed to accept his answer, but her legs were pressed together almost instinctively, like her body was telling her it needed to appear smaller. His sharp nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her pleasant, female scent. His breath against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of air landing against her neck, where he began to place one, and then two open-mouthed kisses.

His eye wandered over her from this angle. Looking down her body, he could see the shadow of what lay beneath her shift in between her breasts as they moved with her breathing, which was slow and calculated. He could see how her hands held the bedsheets below her in her palm, not tightly, but prepared to pull on them if she needed.

She shivered with a shuddered breath when he kissed her, trailing his lips lower to her collarbone, past her string of delicate pearls, and he could see that beneath the cotton, her nipples had reacted to the chill of the room, but he liked to imagine that it was because of the way he was touching her so lovingly.

His hand completely slipped past where her hip met her leg, not touching her womanhood just yet, but close enough to feel its warmth. He felt the gooseflesh on her tummy as he trailed upwards, the shift bunched against his arm when his palm slid over her breast. She gasped softly as he squeezed tenderly, testing the weight of it in his palm and kneading it, and when he looked up to her briefly, she had closed her eyes.

He would tell her to open them later, after he did what he planned.

Her hips moved towards the mattress when his deft fingers dipped between her legs, the tips parting her folds to her entrance first, where Aemond began to feel the slick, as little as there was, gathered around it.

She was beginning to feel aroused even if she didn't know it.

She whimpered, pressing her lips together when she felt his fingers in such a strange, forbidden place. Her eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

"Shh…" He cooed, the air brushing against her cheek, "Relax, dear wife."

She swallowed thick, and relaxed her thighs so that they weren't pushed together as much. The title he'd given her making her head feel as if it were full of air and nothing else.

A part of her felt bad. For she was supposed to be an obedient, pliant little wife, and he was taking care of her so diligently and she was still afraid.

"I apologise-"

"Do not apologise." He replied quickly, and her eyes opened, glistening with a new expression of understanding, "Only feel."

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

He drew his fingers from her entrance to her pearl, drawing little soft circles using her arousal for ease. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes glued to him, a near-indistinguishable gasp falling from her lips. She began to feel a sort of ache, deep in her stomach that felt strange. And her hips began to move in micro-movements.

"This is where you feel the most pleasure." He whispered, his fingers moving sometimes directly and then indirectly over her pearl. At others, the anticipation of them being close to it had her hips searching for the touch.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She struggled to think of a word, having never felt this dull and yet pleasurable rush to her core.

"Strange…pleasantly so."

He continued to move slowly, not making a direct effort to make her peak like this, just allowing her to feel what the touch of a man, the touch of her husband, could feel like.

"I will prepare you like this, so that there will be as little pain as possible."

Maintaining eye contact while he said things like that, while he did things to her like this, felt so intimate and so painfully domestic. As if nobody had bothered to care for her so much in her life. Her eyes curiously flitted between his seeing one and his eyepatch, not in fear, but wondering what he might be hiding beneath it.

It would not be removed this night. Or perhaps many to come.

Aemond's fingers moved over her womanhood with ease, more slick began to pool there and lubricate her puffy folds, swollen with arousal. She was wet, but he thought not prepared enough for his cock just yet.

He shifted his body down, his cheek grazing over her still clothed form, as if he was teasing himself. He could easily have asked her to be naked for him. But there was still trust to be gained.

Her eyes were questioning where he might be going. And she truly had no idea.

Using his knee, he settled between her legs, seeing the gooseflesh still there. His hands rucked up her shift, just pausing at the point where it would reveal her womanhood, all slick and ready for him. Her cheeks bloomed as she looked down at him, but didn't have the courage to question.

"Keep your eyes on me." He whispered lowly, his fingers pushing the fabric up so that he could see her cunt, so close to his face. And he was hit right then with the invigorating scent of her, like the sweetest perfume. He felt ashamed that even the scent of her aroused little cunny made his cock weep with arousal.

She looked more embarrassed than anything to have her new husband's face so close to her intimate area she had been taught to keep hidden. And it was hard for her to keep her legs apart. But she couldn't close them for fear of clamping on his head, and his hands were tenderly keeping them spread, his fingers only slightly indented in her supple flesh.

He looked down upon her, his thumb grazing her pearl again and watching with delight as her hips moved again, accompanied with a breath. It was simply too tempting, the idea of tasting her and the sweet nectar that leaked from within.

Holding her thighs, he leaned forward and flattened his tongue against her womanhood, and something primal was awoken inside when he finally tasted his new, little wife. He moved around her folds, and whenever he had to take a breath he placed an open-mouth kiss to it. He spared a glance up at her, and he hadn’t even heard her hurried breathing or tiny whispers of moans, so engrossed in tasting her for the first time.

Her cheeks were alight, her eyes torn between settling on his gaze and what he was doing to her. He had already told her to keep her eyes on him, and Aemond felt pleased that despite how embarrassed she was, she was obeying him.

Aemond redoubled his efforts, using his tongue to part her folds and nuzzling deeper against her, his nose rubbing gently against her pearl and using his wet muscle to dip against her entrance. It’s here that she gave some semblance of a proper moan, slipping shakily out of her throat, her hands tightening on the bed sheets.

He all but moaned against her cunt, delving into the deepest parts of her and dragging his tongue against the top of her velvety walls, trying to find out why she was the way she was. What made her feel the best. How he could make more of those pretty sounds tumble past her lips. He thought he could have spent all his life between her thighs, lapping at her arousal, and he would die a happy man.

In his grip, her thighs began to shake, and her brows furrowed like she didn’t understand what this feeling coursing through her veins was, this fire ablaze in her blood. Pride flooded his head, and he dragged his tongue from the inside of her to her pearl, where he drew circles over it. She jolted in his hold, as if he’d scared her, but he knew that it was because of the overwhelming feeling that was beginning to crest over her, and the uncertainty of it.

With his attention and efforts on her bud alone and she was suitably wet, he looked up at her when he touched her entrance with the pad of his finger. He heard her gasp when he slowly sank one digit inside her, he himself struggling to keep his composure once he realised just how tight she was around his finger alone. And he could barely think straight thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

He could forgive for the time being that her eyes were closed and brows furrowed, for the new sensation must have been strange for her. Something akin to a strangled whine rumbled from her chest when he was sank all the way inside, curling upwards. And when he brushed against that spot at the top of her walls, gently caressing the slick ridges, her back arched slightly off the mattress, and he smiled against her womanhood.

It appears his little wife was becoming emboldened in her movements by what he was doing to her.

As he continued to please his wife in two separate ways, almost instinctively, her hand came to his bare shoulder. To pull him close? To push him away? She wasn’t entirely sure herself.

He could tell she was on the precipice of something she was unable to comprehend, and was embarrassed to show herself in such an open way.

“What is it, sweet wife?” he asked, drawing his lips from her, now covered entirely in her arousal when he licked at it.

Through her loud pants, she regained her breath as he continued to tease that deep spot inside of her, “What is…” She breathed, her grip closing around his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh, not meaning to, which made him smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He cooed, pulling out slightly to slide a second finger inside, using the girth of his fingers to stretch her cunt around him, “I am just making sure you are ready for me.”

He began to pump his fingers inside her like he would fuck her, curling them up to focus his attention and pressure against the sweet spot at the end of her. She was so tight around him, already trying to suck him further inside and clenching hard. He felt his skin stretch around her grip on his shoulder, like she didn’t realise how hard she was holding him.

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

There was no shame now in how hard it made him, and he felt as if he would spill right in his breeches and not inside her if she was going to say things like that.

A breathy whine made its way from her mouth, her eyes tightly shut as her face twisted in pleasure, feeling all the pressure leak into her limbs in bliss while Aemond kept pleasuring her, loving how her body was uncontrollably trembling with the force of her peak. He could feel the rush of slick coat his fingers and hand, so he slowed down the pace of his movements, allowing his sweet wife to savour the feeling she’d experienced here for the first time.

“That was your peak, little one.”

Her eyes opened to focus on him, feeling her body erupt in shivers as he pulled his digits from her and smeared her wetness over her thighs, thinking that as erotic and lewd the action was, that is excited her at the place where her husband had just been caressing with his fingers and tongue.

Her pupils were dilated only a bit larger than before, and Aemond felt pride in being the first to make her feel such things, awakening a part of her that had remained dormant for a long time. And while she had been emboldened by what he’d done to please her, her cheeks still bloomed with a faint embarrassment that he found endearing.

His hands traced her sides, taking her shift with it, and her breath hitched at the idea she would be entirely bare before her new husband, who had just given her the first experience of female pleasure. But alongside the trepidation, there was excitement.

Once he pulled her shift over her head and raked his gaze over every inch of her body.

It was a fucking crime that she’d been hiding herself under that gown all evening, he thought.

He thought she was perfection, with her soft and supple curves, and he hadn’t even realised his calloused hands had been kneading her breast until she let out a breathy sound. But she didn’t protest. She just appeared somewhat uncomfortable, as this was the first time she had shown herself so openly to the opposite sex.

“You are beautiful.”

She seemed to calm at least when he said that, relieved her husband found her attractive.

He saw her eyes flit from his one seeing eye to the eyepatch covered one, curious. But she simply swallowed thickly and didn’t say or ask anything. And he too was relieved that she hadn’t asked him to remove it.

He was not sure if he would be ready for that, for some time.

She still wore the little pearls around her neck, and now with her entirely naked with the exception of that, it felt erotic and arousing.

They were the same.

She wore the necklace, he wore the eyepatch, keeping a tiny piece of themself while they joined in matrimonial bliss.

He unlaced the rest of his breeches, watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed in anticipation of what was going to happen and the irreversible fact that she would never be the same afterwards.

“Remember what I said?” he asked, pulling his breeches over his hips. His achingly hard cock sprang free, standing proud and aroused against his stomach.

She took a moment to reply, trying not to stare too much at his member as he stroked himself slowly, the ruddy tip, weeping with arousal, poked out of his fist with every languid movement. She’d never seen one before. But all she knew was that she wondered how on earth it would fit inside her, he looked so thick and long, slightly curved to one side. Was there empty space inside of her she didn’t know about where he would place himself?

Her eyes met his, all glazed over, and she nodded.

“If there is pain, I must tell you.” She repeated what he’d said earlier. Her skin bloomed, for that moment was here right before them.

She tried to relax her body, numb from the force of her very first peak, as the mattress dipped either side of her where he’d leaned on his forearms, his knee brushing the inside of her legs as he nudged them apart so he could place himself there.

“Yes, you must.” He added tenderly, “It is not my intention to hurt you.”

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

She confirmed with delight that she was. And she nodded, not knowing what to say in response to his statement, but Aemond could see the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

He saw her glance at his manhood with something akin to a mix of fear and curiosity, and she took a sharp breath in as Aemond leaned forward, not pressing his weight on her, and placed several open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, teasing her with his teeth, while his cock kissed her puffy folds.

She felt his breath at her skin, her grip loosening on the sheets as he made her feel a little more relaxed.

When he leant forward, parting her folds easily with the aid of her slick, the first thought she had was that it felt strange, but nothing else in particular. It was only when his cockhead had disappeard inside her and he speared her upon his length that she began to tense up, her stomach tightening somewhat unpleasantly. Her hand came automatically to his chest, to try and push him away and make him stop.

He raised his head from her neck, his eye hooded down in concern. He felt her soft, almost-hummingbird-like touch on his chest and felt something fluttering inside of him at the tenderness of it. She was in some pain, not dramatically so, and yet her touch was so gentle.

Nothing was said, and only the utmost patience was offered. And it was difficult to do so for Aemond, with the way her core was holding him so tightly, to stay still and not move an inch. But for the sake of making her feel safe, he did it.

After a moment, she made an effort to relax her muscles for him. Her hand trailed over his muscled chest, as if taking this small window of opportunity to do so. Her fingers ran over the scars he’d gained on his lithe form, wanting to commit every ridge, every little piece of him to her memory as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

Her eyes shifted to him once he sheathed himself inside her all the way, bottoming out with a low groan. He felt her walls fluttering around him, stretching her to accommodate this size, having not felt anything like this before. Her lips parted to let a soft pained sound past her lips, but that was all, and she felt the worst was behind her.

It felt only slightly uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for this marriage. To please him.

It was intimate, looking right at her while he was deep inside her, and she gave the faintest of nods, telling him without words that she was alright. She thought she'd never felt more full in her life, nor more connected to someone as she was right at this moment.

It hurt at first, yes, but he had prepared her, waited for her and cherished her like she was precious. And the pain, the sting of losing her maidenhead, was a small price to pay for how full her heart felt, by giving a piece of her to him.

Closing his eye, as if to concentrate, Aemond moved almost entirely out of her to push back in as she gasped below him, the same feeling the second time had a spark licking at her insides that didn’t stop as he began his slow and careful pace. He wanted to tear his gaze off her, desperately, but couldn’t.

It was just as he imagined. With every soft thrust inside her, the pearls at her neck danced, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering. It wasn’t as animalistically lustful as he envisioned. Before he imagined an innocent thing like her, bending to his will, corrupting her in any way he saw fit.

But now more than anything as he listened to the gentle moans come out of her, he wanted to protect her, to nurture and watch her flourish. The pearls clicked against each other at her neck, her breasts moved, nipples pebbled with arousal, and she’d raised her legs only slightly to wrap around his waist, blinking slowly up at him.

The whore Aegon had gotten him to fuck on his thirteenth nameday was overzealous, large-breasted and older, perhaps more experienced. She had bounced on top of him, her loud moans bouncing off every surface in the room, her hands planted on his chest as she moved her hips up and down on him with loud slaps. He remembered feeling horrified that this is what intimacy was. That this is what men would desire so relentlessly.

It didn’t feel good. And he remembered feeling sick.

But here, with her, looking so lovingly up at him. No hysterical moaning, no pathetic whines to boost his male ego. Just unapologetically everything she was feeling, she was giving to him.

It felt like a gift. To experience real intimacy. And with the person he was due to spend the remainder of his days with.

As if realising he was daydreaming, his hips still moving against her with wet slaps of skin, her hand cupped his face, on the unmarred side, and her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. She touched him so softly he could have wept.

She had seen some kind of thoughtfulness on his face, and in the throes of consummation, was supporting him.

“Aemond.”

When she said his name with such sincerity and care, he blinked slowly and reached his hand up to hers, encircling his fingers around her small wrist, and turned his face into her palm, to kiss the inside tenderly. One kiss to her palm, and one to her wrist. And it felt more intimate than kissing on the lips, which he only now realised with shame, that he’d not done for her yet.

“I am alright.”

He looked at her when she said that. It was as if she could see all of his inner thoughts, and had been able to all evening.

She saw that he had been holding back.

He had been afraid of frightening her, and yet she was allowing him what he wanted.

Her breath caught in her chest with a kind of excitement as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and forced it down to the bed beside her head, his other hand joining her other to keep her pinned tightly under him to the mattress. Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, watching his expression change to something more possessive.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he asked and raised her legs around his waist, causing his length to brush that same spot inside her that he’d pleasured just moments before. And with an iron grip on her wrists and easier access to her, he dipped his head into her neck, her scent swirling around him and fucked her as he had wanted to the entire evening.

Skin slapped against one another with the moisture of her slick on his pelvis, his stones hitting against her repeatedly with every rough thrust into her wet cunt.

"Does my innocent little wife like to be properly fucked, hm?" He grunts, watching how she blushes and turns her head away out of embarrassment.

"I think you will continue to surprise me, little pearl."

She felt her insides clench at the name he gave her.

Little pearl.

Aemond smirked, increasing the intensity of his driving into her, constantly spearing her open onto his cock, and watching at the way he disappeared into her.

"I can feel you tightening around my cock. Did you like that? Little pearl?"

Her breath was sucked from her with each devastating thrust, and that same pressure was beginning to build in her belly, from when he'd pleasured her before.

"Answer me.”

"Yes - yes, husband - " She replied, breathlessly and gulping for air, throwing her head back against the bed sheets.

He smirked, leaning back and watching how his cock was being covered in her slick everytime he pulled out of her.

He pulled her hips onto his lap, and the angle had his cockhead bullying her tender and sensitive place deep inside of her. Her eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, feeling utterly at his mercy.

Feeling proud of the reactions he was getting, his hand slipped from her hip to her bud. Her pearl. A grin splitting across his face at the lewd thoughts he was having. He circled her sensitive bud tenderly, applying just enough pressure that she clenched around him again.

If she wasn't careful, he would cum right there and then.

"Does that feel good, little one?" He teased her in a low tone, not ceasing his endless pace, pushing himself as far inside her as he could.

"Do you like it when I touch you here?"

She couldn't deny she liked it. The way her back arched, being pleasures in two ways. It was nearly overwhelming. And it took her voice from her.

"Perhaps we should name you Pearl of the Realm." He smirked, increasing both his pace and pressure, "Prim, proper…a good little obedient wife to her lord and husband."

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

"But in here, with me, it is this pearl I shall be paying special attention to, dear wife."

His words made her tighten around him, coupled with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. She felt her entire body get hot, the pressure in her belly set to explode at any moment.

His delicate and careful ministrations to her bundle of nerves was almost too much, and her hips began to move forward towards his in rhythm with his cock stretching her open, meeting him halfway.

She didn't imagine such lewd words would have an effect on her.

"Husband - "

"I think I will keep you like this. All night if I have to. Paying special attention to this precious pearl you have been neglecting for so long." He mused, his words were strained, as if set to explode himself.

"I will give you my seed. Over and over. Until I am done with you." He breathed through heavy pants, his eye slipping shut, "I will watch you swell with my child. Would you like that?"

She could only whimper in response, fisting the bed sheets as she had nothing else to hold onto, her mouth dropping open as her climax began to crest.

"I would like that. To see these perfect tits all round and full."

The idea of bearing his children was only a fantasy that appeared right at that moment.

"Gods - you are so tight - such a perfect little cunt - fuck - "

She fell apart around him, her entire body filled with such eternal feeling bliss that she felt as if she were floating, her husband's deft fingers still pleasuring her bud.

Her limbs felt numb, her blood like fire under her skin and her lips dropped apart so that a shattered moan could escape her, the only proof that her peak was decimating every nerve in her body with blinding, white hot pleasure.

She tightened impossibly around him, and the pistoning of his cock into her sex was only stilled when he slammed inside her one last time. His length throbbed within her, his spend warming her core at the end and filling her, completing this sacred, intimate ceremony.

They both gulped down air desperately and when Aemond had caught a moment to himself, he spared a look down at his sweet wife, her delicate skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat, eyes shut, breasts shifting erratically with her breathing.

She must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned her head to look up at him. In her once innocent and naive gaze he once saw fear and trepidation. And now her pupils were blown wide and glimmered with lust and a kind of pride that she'd pleased him, and they'd done this together.

Aemond still had a grip on her hips, noticing the red marks where his fingers had been. Her body was littered with them, where he'd been too tempted to nibble at her, to make sure she bore the marks of his passion for her.

He looked down where they were joined, pulling out of her and watching with a lustful curiosity at his spend that leaked from her entrance. It was instinctual, the way two fingers scooped up what had come out, and he gently plunged it back into her as far as he would go.

Overstimulated and tired, she winced, bucking her hips slightly.

Aemond only smiled down at her.

"I can hardly wait to make you a mother, little one."

She laughed a little, exhausted, "You speak of children. We have only lay together once."

Aemond took her reply and smirked, pulling her thighs close to him again.

"In that case - might we try again? I dare say I have already forgotten the first time."

His little pearl smiled tenderly up at him. A safe smile. One of utter adoration. It was like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. She had been so good to him in the short time he'd known her, and cared enough to let him see her as well.

He felt fulfilled in a way he never had before. Something exciting ran through his blood, like how he felt whenever he trained. As if a new challenge were upon him.

Challenging the notion that had been placed upon him his entire life, that marriage was about ownership. As a wife should belong entirely to her husband.

And while he felt that sheer possessiveness before he really knew her. Knew her properly.

Now, he questioned if marriage was more about respect than anything else.

The fabric covering his eye now felt so heavy. And one day, he thought, he hoped to be able to show himself so openly to her, as she had done for him.

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

And he would pay his little pearl all the attention she so deserved.

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

the beginning

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pretty fluffy and cute tho, male masturbation, kinda creeping on reader by masturbating to pics of her?, p in v sex, brief male receiving handjob, unprotected sex, a bunch of different scenes with time gaps this isnt one continuous fic if that makes sense?

“your bikini is so cute.” you tell your friend, looking at your own swimsuit in the mirror.

“i have another one in a different color, you wanna borrow it?” julie offers.

“girl, yes!” you squeal as she digs through her closet before tossing the small material to you. you were invited on rafe camerons boat, and while you chose your best swimsuit, you just moved to the outer banks from new york city and don’t have a ton of options.

you put the swimsuit on before standing next to your friend. “we look good.” you nod.

“damn girl, the boys are gonna be all over you.” “hopefully including rafe.” you say, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. it didn’t take you long to learn that rafe was the it boy of the outer banks, the kook prince, and that all the girls wanted him. you didn’t get the hype until you met him at a party and instantly became attracted.

“there’s no way he’s gonna be able to keep his eye of you.” julie encourages you, before glancing at her phone. “we better get going.”

you nod, looking one last time in the mirror before putting your coverup on and following julie out of her room.

“hey rafe.” you smile at him, letting him sling his arm around your shoulder. you’ve been flirting a lot, its how you got invited onto his boat along with a few other friends, but you haven’t progressed past just talking.

“hey.” rafe tugs you into him, making you press against his shirtless torso, in just his swim shorts. “wanna come up and drive with me?”

“yeah.” you nod, briefly looking to julie to make sure she was good, but she's already twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at kelce.

you follow rafe up to the stairs to the second story of the yacht where the captains helm is. you sit next to him on the bench as he steers the boat out of the marina.

“this is a really nice boat.” you comment. “maybe you should give some advice to my parents on what to buy, my dad is looking but has no clue what is good.” you say without thinking, before cringing at your words, worrying rafe might mistake your small talk as wanting him to meet your parents.

“ah yeah, didn’t have much opportunities to own a yacht in new york, huh?” rafes says as his arms move the wheel, making your attention shift to his muscles.

“nope.” you shake your head. “but i’m glad we moved, i love the city but its really nice to be somewhere… calmer.”

“i’m glad you moved too.” rafe says with a smile, making you blush as you nod at him. you manage to make the small talk not overly awkward as he drives the boat out towards the ocean before finding a place to drop anchor and hang out for a bit.

“wanna swim?” rafe asks as you both head down the stairs, rejoining the group.

“yeah.” you nod, pulling your coverup off over your head. you toss it onto a soft before turning to rafe, who is staring down at your body, blatantly checking you out as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

he doesn’t snap out of it until topper claps him on the shoulder. “i got the ladder in for us, man.”

“yeah, yeah thanks.” rafe nods, eyes finally flicking up to meet yours.

“y/n! jump in with me!” julie calls.

“lets go?” you tilt your head, looking to rafe.

“wait before you jump in i want to get a picture of everyone.” rafe shouts out, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to topper. “you'll take it?”

“yeah, sure.” topper says, looking at his friend a little strangely.

you all group together on the front deck, rafe moving so you’re in the center, his arm around your waist as you smile at the camera. you change your pose a couple times as topper continues to snap pictures, including turning towards rafe and placing your hand on his abs, still grinning as you pose.

rafe eyes up topper as he leans and picks you up, topper getting the message to record as you let out a shriek, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulder as he hurdles towards the water before jumping off the back deck, sending a spray of water as you let go of him and swim towards the surface.

you push the hair out of your face before sending a splash in rafes direction, scrunching your brows to show your anger at getting tossed in, but you can’t help the smile that stretches over your cheeks.

rafe gives you a tight hug, not caring that your hair is still wet and smelling of salt water. “i had fun today.”

“i did too.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek.

“what are you doing tomorrow?” rafe questions.

“why, wanna take me on a date?” you ask, biting your lip as your eyes glance between his eyes and his lips.

“and what if i do?” rafe smirks.

“then i’m definitely free.”

“pick you up at 6:30 then.” rafe says, pulling you against him again before letting you go, watching you get into julies car.

“fuck.” rafe groans, hips thrusting forward as he fucks his fist, phone pulled open to the pictures he had topper took. he doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, he cropped everyone out but you, in your tiny lilac bikini.

rafe groans, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut as he squeezes the head of his dick, imagining it was you instead, either your mouth on him or you spread out below him, moaning as he fucks into your cunt.

rafe thinks about texting you, about begging you to come over, but he remembers your date tomorrow, knows what is going to happen after if things go well. he doesn’t want to seem too desperate, but you’re too pretty, too enticing as he swipes to the next photo, the photo of you turned to the side, hand on his bare abdomen.

he looks at the curve of your ass, the way the bikini hugs your hips. rafe strokes faster, imagining his hand making impact with your bum, watching the skin ripple.

“y/n.” rafe groans out your name as he cums, releasing over his stomach as he squeezes himself until he’s satisfied, smiling as he swipes again, this time to the video of him picking you up and running into the water.

“this is easily the best first date i’ve ever had.” you say as rafe drives you home. it was surprisingly simple, a picnic on the beach all set up by rafe, and then some live music on the pier.

“mine too.” rafe says, placing a cautious hand on your thigh, relieved when you smile at him.

“you know…” you begin as rafe pulls up to your door. “my parents are back in new york this weekend.”

“really?” rafe hums, bringing the car up the driveway.

“if you’d like to come in for some… tea.”

“tea, sure.” rafe nods, turning his truck off.

you move quickly inside. while you made up the tea excuse to get him in, you both know what the intentions are as rafe presses you against the wall of the entrance as soon as the door swings shut behind you, his lips meeting yours.

“good morning.” you mumble, turning over in rafes arms, both still naked from the night before.

“morning.” rafe says, his voice gruff from just waking. he moves a hand to your hair, brushing it out of your face. “you look beautiful.”

“not too bad yourself.” you smile, pressing your lips against rafes.

the kiss instantly wakes him up as his hand moves to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he turns so he’s over top of your body, your hair flared out on the pillow.

you smirk into the kiss when you can feel rafe growing against your stomach. you reach down with one hand, grasping his shoulder to keep him close and kissing you with the other while you stroke his cock, getting it to full hardness quickly.

“when are your parents home?” rafe asks suddenly when he pulls away.

“um-” your brain briefly doesn’t work at the randomness of the question. “monday evening.” “i say-” rafe says, reaching down and grasping his cock, pushing your hand out of the way as he rubs the head of his cock through your pussy. “we spent the entire weekend in bed then.”

you gasp as rafe thrusts into you, filling your cunt in one swoop. “sounds good to me.” you say, before pulling him back into a kiss.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary

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hotdsworld · 18 days ago

Text

"Behave"

Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen x F!Martell!Reader

a/n: I kinda hate this piece but I truly wanted to finally publish something for the Valentine's day so here it is 😉 dividers and mdni by lovely @cafekitsune

Word count: 3,6k

Warnings: 18+!, oral (F receiving), public, degradation (not a lot of it), p in v, unprotected, spanking

Translations:

ābrazȳrys - wife

riñītsos - little girl

Minors please do not interact

There you were, a beautiful wife of Prince Regent. Your marriage was arranged, happened before Viserys died and left nothing but chaos. The old fool thought a simple marriage could fix what he had broken, but it did not work. It did not make Aemond calmer or less thirty for vengeance. Both Rhaenyra and Aegon were unfit to rule. You preferred to watch from the sidelines. Much like your house, you remained neutral. They could do so because of their independence, but you married into House Targaryen, one day you will have to choose like everyone else.

“Princess Y/n, is married life what you expected?” Larys Strong asked. A question a bit out of nowhere but you didn't let it get to you. You were used to that creep. You straighten your back, looking at Aemond with the corner of your eye. What a great chance to get back at your lovely husband…

“Would be much better if my lord husband spent his time with me in our bedchambers instead of sitting and plotting, lord Larys,” you smiled politely. Aemond clenched his jaw, your taunts were not to his liking. Larys showed no reaction, but judging by his eyes, he was amused. Larys was always a spectator, enjoying the drama, pulling the strings from the shadows. You did not trust him.

“The dragon should be careful if he doesn't want his lady wife snatched by another,” Tyland joined the conversation. He always found you beautiful and of course, you were going to use it. Why wouldn't you? All is fair, especially with Targaryens apparently.

“By a lion? They are quite greedy, aren’t they?” You smirked, watching Aemond intently. Tyland nodded slowly, catching your hint. He would never refuse a pretty woman, let alone a princess.

“We are. We take and take, and one might find it to be quite pleasurable,” Tyland was falling beautifully deeper into your trap. You giggled sweetly, batting your eyelashes. Aemond was forced to watch through the meeting as you shamelessly flirted with Lannister. Aemond had nothing against Tyland until today. How dare he watch Aemond's wife with lust? You belong to him, it mattered not if the marriage was arranged. You were Aemond's. And Aemond did not appreciate anyone playing with what belongs to him.

Aemond is a composed and calculated man, but being married to you was a real challenge. You had no fear and respect, he couldn't tell if you were brave or dumb, but he found it intriguing even if it irritated him to no end. He was fuming as your fingers trailed up Tyland’s arm, and he spoke before he could stop himself.

“It is common and courteous to pay attention to your lord husband first before you pay it to any other man,” Aemond hissed, struggling to control himself. You were infuriating, like your whole existence served to torment and annoy him. You? You enjoyed it. During war there weren't any enjoyable activities, but annoying your husband? Always worked. Since he was so easy to anger, yet he kept himself composed, taking pride in his reputation. Aegon? A chaotic drunk, but Aemond? He was better, he wanted to be. He needed to be better than the one who laughed at him.

“Why should I pay attention to a husband that hasn't been paying attention to me? Men of your… sorry, your brother's small council are much nicer and attentive, no? I might find myself enjoying their closer attention in private.” The room seemed to still. If it had been any other man, such a foul tongue would have earned you a brutal punishment. But this was Aemond. You weren’t afraid of him, not truly. No, you reveled in it. You enjoyed it. The way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled against the edge of the table, and for a moment you couldn't help but imagine them gripping your body tightly… He was struggling to maintain the icy composure he so desperately clung to. You loved watching him being on the edge of his restraint, and tonight, you intended to push him over. His eye darkened, full of rage as the gathered small council members exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't just teasing, this was humiliation. You’d made him look weak, unable to control his own feelings, in front of the men he now led since Aegon was unable to.

“All you’ve been,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, as he kept himself back from shouting, “is a goddamn tease who has no fucking respect.” The slap came fast, the sound echoing in the chamber. It stung, hot and electrifying, a strange mix of pain and arousal ran through you, a feeling you couldn’t ignore. Your heart pounded, not with fear but excitement. You did it. You’d pushed Aemond past the breaking point. You ruined his image of a perfectly composed man. “You want my attention, ābrazȳrys?” He hissed, jaw clenched hard. You lost yourself in his voice. High Valyrian really suited him. You knew he had something planned, you angered him to no end… and that excited you. You craved whatever he wanted to give. “Now, you have it. All of it,” Aemond picked you up just to shove you down onto the table, causing a mess, papers to scattle and goblets to fall over, spilling wine. You smirked, biting your lip to prevent laughing. You were getting off on him losing control too much. Your whole body burned and he seemed to be burning as well. Aemond tore apart your pretty gown, it was one of your favorites but you didn't care. Not about your favorite piece getting ruined, not about others watching, not even about his roughness. Not when his hands were all over you, exploring. Aemond's cold hands are a contrast to your heated body, his touch urgent and possessive, intending to claim every single inch of you.

“My prince, it would not be wise to do it here in front of all,” Criston said calmly, and maybe Aemond would have listened to him, if he wasn't so fucking angry and hard. Criston made a mental note to mention it to Alicent later.

“No, I need to teach my wife how to behave. I need to show her the consequences,” Aemond answered sharply.

“Maybe we should leave you two alone. I believe we have discussed everything-” Tyland muttered, the men began to stand up, intending to leave. You barely heard him, too focused on your husband and his touch. You could feel yourself growing wet, impatient for what was about to come. You couldn't tell if you wanted the men to leave or to stay, but maybe it didn't matter. What mattered was getting Aemond as soon as you could.

“Sit,” Aemond’s voice cut through the air like a blade. A clear command, not a question. The men froze, recognizing the authority in the prince’s voice. Aemond knew perfectly well they wished to escape the room, all nervous and embarrassed, but he did not care. He wanted them here, witnessing this. And you couldn't find it in yourself to protest. There was something exciting about it. Before, Aemond wouldn't show you any kind of affection, not publicly, and now? He was ready to show everyone that you belong to him. The display of his dominance sent another rush of heat through your body. You clenched your thighs, trying to control the ache between your legs. Slowly, they sat back down, looking at their hands or away from your body.

You didn't cover yourself, you wouldn't. It was Aemond's world and you were the center of it. The very source of the anger and overwhelming need inside of him. Aemond focused back on you, leaning down to plant kisses all over your neck, sucking on your skin there. You moaned softly, tilting your head back, closing your eyes as you let the pleasure run through your veins. Maybe your plan worked a little too well, but you didn't complain. You were touch starved, and so was he judging by how desperately he was kissing your neck, his hands massaging your delicate breasts. Aemond was as hard as a rock, but he would be damned if he didn't prepare you first. You deserve a punishment, but not without the pleasure. You looked at Tyland, but only briefly because Aemond tugged on your hair, his kisses getting lower. He spread your legs, the action urgent but gentle. Fairly gentle, since he was still frustrated. “I want your eyes on me, riñītsos. The whole time,” his face hovered over your pussy, that was aching with need, you felt as if Aemond didn't touch you soon, you would beg for it, and you were too prideful for that. Aemond couldn't hold back even if he wanted to, taking a slow lick from your slit to your clit, pupils dilating at the taste. “If you look away I’m going to stop. No matter how close you will be, I will stop. And your cunt is dripping so I know how much you crave this. So eyes on me, riñītsos. Look how I claim you with my tongue,” he whispered, but you heard him clearly. Aemond leaned back down, his tongue immediately attacking your wet folds and hole, eager to taste more of you. You moaned in surprise, not expecting such eagerness. Your fingers tangling with his silky hair. You were like the most delicious dish, and he was a man starved. He moved his thumb up, rubbing small circles against your sensitive clit, his other hand traveled up to massage your breast. Your hips bucked forward involuntarily against his face. Aemond chuckled, sending vibrations through your core. The men tried to focus on themselves or the objects in the room, but they couldn't help stealing glances at your body. Aemond hummed, clearly satisfied with the position he found himself in, knowing they can look at you but they cannot touch, they cannot taste you like he can, because you belong to him. You tilt your head back, yet another loud moan escapes your lips, your face contorted in ecstasy. You have never experienced such pleasure, you couldn't even control your own body at the moment. All you could think about was how good his tongue felt on your body, claiming you utterly and completely. The pressure inside of you built rapidly, mounting with every second of Aemond eating you out so deliciously, until the intensity shattered into a wave of release, washing over you. Your thighs shook as Aemond licked up every single drop of your release, savoring the exquisite taste. You tasted better than the most expensive of wines. The sensation of the climax lingered, leaving you breathless for a good moment, but Aemond didn't let you recover so easily, flipping you onto your stomach. You were directly facing Tyland, which somehow made you even more excited for what was about to come. Aemond chose that position for a reason. He smirked, discarding his tunic rather quickly, almost tearing it apart. His slender fingers moved lower, working on his breeches swiftly. Soon enough, Prince Regent was completely bare before you and the small council. You looked over your shoulder, licking your lips. His abs was the best thing you have seen in a long time, if not in your whole life. You couldn't wait to get your hands and mouth on him, but your husband seemed to have different plans. Aemond was perfectly trimmed, as expected of someone of his status. He wanted to look flawless always, it didn't matter if it was hair, clothing, or body hair.

Aemond approached the table, pulling you back by your hips. His hands on your skin sent yet another shiver down your spine. The head of his hard cock was pressed directly against your entrance, but he did not push himself in. Oh gods, how he wanted to do that, screaming at himself internally for pausing, but he was a prideful man. “I won't fuck you. Not until you tell lord Tyland that the behavior of yours earlier didn't serve to charm him, not truly. Tell him you behaved this way because you wanted your husband to snap and finally punish your slutty body. Tell him the only man you have your eyes for is your lord husband.” He spanked your ass, causing you to jump a little. It hurt, but it felt somewhat refreshing, doing nothing to extinguish the fire burning inside of you.

“Aemond,” you whined, needily, perhaps even pathetically. But your body yearned for him. You desperately needed his cock inside of you, even if it meant letting go of your pride. Aemond spanked you again, his hand leaving marks on your ass cheek. You looked up at Tyland, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Aemond urged you, grinding against you, teasing you with the promise of penetration, and you could not resist. He bedded you only once before to consummate the marriage, it was nothing special then but you were sure how he would bring you an orgasm of your life.

“Lord Tyland, I apologize for my earlier behavior. All I did was attempt to provoke my lord husband into giving me attention. I have no genuine interest in your affections nor would I ever welcome them. It was simply a game to make Aem- Prince Regent jealous. My eyes are only for him,” you muttered. It was truly hard to speak clearly when your body was trembling with anticipation. Tyland did look disappointed, but he could have seen this coming. He nodded slowly, afraid of saying the wrong thing and enraging Aemond. Aemond leaned forward, putting some of his weight on you.

“And now I want you to beg. Beg like the little wanton slut that you are. Show me how much you need me inside this dripping cunny and maybe I will consider fucking it,” Aemond whispered, but loudly even for the men to hear. His hand landed on your ass cheek once again. Now you knew, it was a revenge for his earlier humiliation. You didn't care that he was humiliating you now, making you beg for something as simple as this. You wanted and needed him, and shame would not stop you.

“Please, Aemond. I need you inside of me. I need you to claim me in front of them. I want to feel yours. Please, my lord husband, I need your cock. Let us be done with the games, I want to be owned by you,” you begged and pleaded, trying to get on his possessive side. If not for your earlier taunts Aemond would have tortured you for longer, but his cock was aching to be inside of you. He pushed his cock in, forcing himself to do it slowly. You were not a virgin anymore but Aemond's cock was still quite a challenge. He needed to stretch you out a little before giving into the fire burning inside of him completely. You bit your lip, the stretch bordering on painful, but you were determined to take it, you craved it. You needed Aemond as much as he needed you. Two flames cursed… or maybe blessed? To burn together. You were not scared of fire, as long as you would burn with him.

“You feel so good, ābrazȳrys. Your cunt is so tight… relax,” he cooed before spanking you harshly. You jumped, eyes wide. It stung even more than the previous ones. “This pussy feels like heaven, that's the only way for me; a sinner to get a taste of it, no?” Each trust served to claim your body completely. Aemond wanted to own you, not only in a sense of marriage. He wanted to own your body, your soul, your mind, your entire being. He wanted to melt into you and become one. His need for you ran deep. You moaned, relishing in the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, the previous discomfort disappeared. Aemond pulled your hair, enjoying how your back arched, forcing you to look at Tyland. His slow thrusts quickly turned into faster, more brutal ones. Men were not happy about this display. All except for Larys, who seemed intrigued. The obscene squelching sounds filled up the room, making your cheeks blush.

“That feels great. Please don't stop, Aemond please,” you mewled and whimpered, slowly losing it with his cock hitting every right spot. Aemond closed his eye, the way you moaned his name… it was perfect. Your pussy was incredibly wet for him, definitely wetter than the previous time. Aemond smirked, he liked the way the lords watched him claim you, he liked how eagerly your body responded. You were his. Completely and utterly. And it was just proof of it.

“It can't all be pleasure and no pain. You deserve a punishment, don't you, riñītsos? Count to fifty, princess,” he spanked you particularly brutally, leaving a red mark of his hand on your ass cheek. It burned and tingled in the best way. Aemond did not stop his punishing pace, fucking the shit out of you. “I can't hear you?” He taunted, his other hand moving to your clit, rubbing circles against it. Your eyes rolled back, it was a lot. Lords were outraged, but what could they do? They didn't dare to question Prince Regent.

“One,” you tried to control your voice, “two… ten…” Each spank hurt more than the previous one, but each of them was bringing you closer to the edge. Aemond was not merciful about this. Every time you said the wrong number or couldn't say a thing because of your moans you would start over again and again. Your ass cheeks were red, but the pain was a whisper among the screams of pleasure. “Fifty,” you breathed out, relieved that finally you managed to get through all of them with no mistakes. Aemond caressed your skin tenderly. You found yourself moving your hips back against his thrusts.

“Good job, riñītsos. I'm proud. You took it so well. So beautifully and utterly devoted,” he cooed, his gentle voice a contrast to his rough moves. His fingers toying with your clit with precision, he knew what to touch and when to drive you crazy. “Now you need to cum on my cock like a good little wife. Show everyone how much you love my cock,” he urged, pulling your hair. You bit your lip hard, the coil in your stomach threatening to snap any moment now. You were dancing on the very edge of your climax, and Aemond was the one leading. “I'm going to breed this little cunt so every single day you and others have a reminder that you are mine. I will put a beautiful Targaryen babe here, little dragon. And you will take it like a good slut, I know you crave it” his words mixed with a particularly deep thrust made the coil snap. Your walls fluttered around his cock, your body shook as the wave of pleasure washed over you. Drowning you in the intense orgasm. Aemond chuckled as he kept fucking you through your high. But he did not last any longer than you did. The way your walls deliciously tightened when you orgasmed got him good. “Fuck. Yes. That's it, whore. That's it, good girl. Such a tight pussy. All mine, mine to breed, mine to fuck, mine to cherish,” Aemond held your hips tightly, his balls tightened before he emptied himself inside of you, painting your walls white, groaning. He remained inside your pussy, enjoying the warmth.

“That was intense,” you muttered. Your ass stung like hell and you became aware that you in fact let Aemond fuck you in front of the small council. You could only thank the gods that at least his mother or his brother weren't there. Aemond pulled out of you with a wet pop. He would stay inside you if he could, but he needed to let those poor men go. He gestured to the servants to bring you something to cover yourself with.

“I expect you to behave from now on,” he gave your ass yet another spank. You whined, your flesh already burned and he still chose to torture you even more. Aemond watched his seed leaking out of you with perverse fascination. He gathered the cum and pushed it back into you. You just moaned weakly, there was something so fucking hot about him doing that. “Another proof we do it better than the pretender. Our heirs will be actually trueborn,” Aemond covered you with the robes the servant brought, he himself remained naked. It was a change for him, he was always insecure about his body mostly because of what he endured in the past. He picked you up gently, being considerate of your bruised ass and turned to the men.“You’re dismissed,” he told them before leaving. Aemond carried you to his bedchamber, holding you tightly as if you would disappear if he didn't. He placed you on the bed before stepping back.

“They will never forget it I fear,” you pulled him back down on the bed, tracing his scar softly, and he let you, making himself comfortable next to you. He chuckled, Aemond did not care. You loved his laugh, but he didn't laugh often if at all.

“They will live. But never fucking do that again,” he brushed your hair out of your face. He didn't even want to think of men taking what’s his. “You’re mine,” he whispered, pulling you to his chest. Maybe that night changed a lot for you in the marriage. It surely did for him. He was learning to open, to let himself be vulnerable around you. And you were so grateful for it.

#aemond fic #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #Martell Reader #female reader #aemond x female #aemond x fem!reader #hotd smut #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond #mdni blog

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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

Text

Anything for You - Pt 5 Final

daemon x daughter!reader

Previous Parts

Summary: Over the years you fill the halls of Dragonstone with children and live content and happy. Something both you and Daemon never would’ve thought possible.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, pregnant!reader, lactation kink, breeding kink, public, oral(f), p in v, time skips, birth

Authors Note: literally just soft, devoted, loving, and caring daddy daemon to finish this series off

Word Count: 6k

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6 moons after Part 4

I’m silently humming in the maesters chambers as he looks over me. Aelon is softly cooing in Daemon's lap and I turn my head to watch them with a smile. The maester pulls my dress back down and looks at me deep in thought. I turn my attention back to him and tilt my head.

“Is there anything different about this pregnancy, princess? Do you feel any different?” I chew on my lip mulling over his words.

“Maybe even more content than the first? We’ve had no issues with lying guards and boats.” I chuckle but my father doesn’t seem to find the jest amusing. “I feel like my bump is bigger than it was when I started my labors with Aelon.” I bring my hand to my stomach and rub my hands over it lovingly.

“I had the same thought.” the maester hums. “I’ve done this many times with many women.” he nods at me and Daemon. “Princess, I believe you’re carrying twins.” a smile spreads across my face at his confirmation. I’ve had the same thought for moons now but I didn’t want to express it aloud.

“Are you positive?” Daemon’s voice is filled with hope.

“As positive as I can be, my Prince.” the maester nods with a smile.

“We are getting more efficient.” Daemon stands with Aelon and comes to my side to brush my hair back. “Twins.” he hums, bringing his hand down to my swollen stomach.

My father helps me up from the bed and Aelon wiggles into my arms. We make our way out of the maesters chambers and my handmaidens pad over to my side and whisk Aelon away for his nap. Daemon slips his fingers into mine and walks me out to the gardens. The soft breeze kisses my skin and I lean into Daemon's side.

“I know you want for them to both be boys, but I hope for one of them to be a girl. Just one. Then I’ll get back to making your army.” I smile up at him and he chuckles.

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” he presses his lips to my brow and leads me over to a table. He takes a seat across from me and he stares at me with a soft smile. “You look like the Mother made flesh. You’re glowing and so calm and at ease.” he reaches across the table for one of my hands as a blush creeps up my neck.

“It’s thanks to you. You care for me so thoroughly there’s nothing I want or need for.” I hum.

“I’d do anything you ask of me, sweet girl. Nothing would be too much.” he leans back in his chair and looks me over.

“Well since I’m carrying two babes..” I trail off nibbling my lip.

“Yes?” he nods his head, smirking.

“I think I deserve two new necklaces.” I purse my lips and he chuckles.

“Just two necklaces?” he raises his brows. “I was expecting more.” he hums.

“Well I could also use some new gowns. Maybe some new hair pieces.” I look up thinking of more. “Oh, and maybe some new earrings and-“

“Sweet girl.” my eyes snap back to his at his tone.

“Yes, daddy?” I bat my eyelashes and he groans.

“Do not start with that.” he tries to hide his smile.

“With what?” I tilt my head.

“Your little innocent facade.” he gestures to me.

“I don’t know what you mean?” I pout.

“Mm,” he looks me over with a smirk.

“So will you not get me what I asked for?” I push my lower lip out and he chuckles. “If not, it seems as if I married the wrong man.” he is on his feet the moment the words leave my mouth.

“I’m going to have to travel to get you these things you desire.” he tilts my chin up. “It will take me time and it’s not my wish to leave you. Especially in the state you’re in.” his hand rests against my bump.

“So I don’t get any gifts?” I blink up at him with a soft pout and he exhales, shaking his head.

“How about I let you take anything you please from the family vaults?” he tries to compromise.

“I don’t want swords and weapons.” I frown.

“There are gowns and jewels down there too.” I hold up my hand and he chuckles, grabbing it and helping me stand up.

He leads us back into the castle and down a set of stairs I haven't explored yet. He grabs a torch from the wall as he leads down yet another set of stairs going slowly monitoring my every step. Once we reach the bottom he grabs my hand and leads me down the dark hall. The deeper we walk into the vaults the closer I lean into my father. The air starts to cool and I crane my neck as we stand in front of large obsidian doors. He pushes the doors open and leads me inside, shining the torch around.

I gasp walking over to a table and lift the necklace up. I point at the jewels I like and my father nods and adds it into a bag he brought. I continue to pick up pieces of jewelry and hand them to Daemon who accepts piece after piece. When we finally make it to the gowns a frown forms on my face. I trace my fingers over the fabric. I’m sure these were once beautiful gowns worn by Queens but they’re just..

“These are terribly outdated.” my father barks out a laugh. “The fabric is scratchy. They’re not pretty enough for me. I like silk and flowing fabrics. Not this stiff, old..” I scrunch my nose.

“Then I shall have seamstresses and fabrics brought to us.” he kisses my brow. “I’ll send word across the realm for jewelers to bring their best for my sweet girl.” I smile up at him.

“Thank you, daddy.” I reach up to pull his lips down to mine.

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2 moons later

I pout from our bed as my father holds my hand while the maester finishes up the exam. I look down at my massive bump that I know longer have the energy to carry around. Daemon carries me around our chambers and sees to most of my needs waving off my handmaidens. The maester pulls my gown back down and looks up at us with a reassuring smile.

“It is almost time, Princess. Maybe a fortnight now. How are you feeling?” he looks over my scrunched face.

“I want these babes out of me.” I sniffle. “I want to go to the garden. I want to be able to walk on my own.” a tear slips down my face and my father is quick to wipe it away.

“I know this time is much different than the first but you’re still doing great.” the maester nods. “Even in this state you’re still my best patient.” he smiles and escorts himself out of our chambers.

“I can take you down to the gardens, sweet girl.” Daemon hums, brushing my hair back.

“It’s not the same.” I whine. “I don’t feel pretty and graceful like I did the first time.” my lip wobbles as I start to cry again. “These candles smell awful. The snacks they brought me were dry. My breasts are so full I’m sure they’re going to burst any day now.” I gasp as a sob tears through me. “I just- I just,” I start to cry harder and he slips into bed with me.

“Tell daddy what you need.” he holds me closer, wiping away my tears.

“I need you.” my voice small as I pull him closer.

“I’m right here.” he reassures. “I’m going to go blow out the candles. Then I’m going to tell the guard to tell them to start preparing our dinner. Then I will be back in bed with you.” I nod watching him go about his tasks.

I watch him walk around our chambers as the tears continue to pour down my face. I pull the blankets up to me and cling to them. He blows out the last of the candles and throws them out into the hall with hushed words to the guards. He shuts the door behind him and walks back over to me. He slowly pulls the blankets from me and I frown up at him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t worshiped you enough, sweet girl.” He starts to lift off my dress and I let my eyes flutter shut at the relief of being free of the fabric no matter how soft.

He lifts one of my legs and presses his lips against my ankle and makes his way up my leg before starting over on my other. He showers my bump with attention and soft words as I look down at him with glassy eyes. He grabs my hand and kisses each fingertip and my palm before offering the same treatment to my wrists and the rest of my arm. He repeats this process again on my other arm and looks down at me with such devotion it causes my heart to ache.

“Can daddy help you with these?” his hands softly engulf my breasts pulling a whimper from me.

“Please daddy, please,” I beg nodding my head.

He dips his head down and slowly laps at one of my nipples. My fingers bury themselves in his hair, softly stroking and tugging as he starts to suck more intensely. I feel the familiar feeling of relief as my milk is slowly being released. His hands wrap on either side of my waist as he continues to lick and nibble. He presses his lips across my chest to my other nipple and I sigh holding him closer as my relief washes through me.

“Thank you,” I sniffle and he opens his eyes and looks up at me as he continues to lick against me.

He stays attached to my chest silently alternating between my breasts. I sink back into the pillows as presses his lips slowly up to my neck. He kisses and sucks across my throat before kissing up my jaw. His lips fall against mine and I sigh into him as he allows me to kiss him for as long as I please.

“I can see why Aelon drinks so much.” he mumbles against my lips. A smile forms on my face as I let out a small giggle. “There’s your smile.” he nuzzles into my neck, holding me tightly.

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twins birth

I groan, rubbing my eyes awake before blinking around our dark chambers. My hand grabs my bump as a wave of pressure washes through me. I slowly shake my father awake and he’s sitting up in bed looking over me.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he brushes my hair back.

“The babes are coming. Go get the maesters.” he jumps up and tells the guard to wake the maesters and midwives.

Daemon rushes around our chambers quickly lighting candles and throwing more wood into our hearth. There’s a quick succession of knocks and the maester and the midwives pour into our chambers with more candles. My father grabs towels for the bed and goes over to the wardrobe to grab the two blankets I picked out for our babes. I watch as he rustles around the bottom of our wardrobe and pulls out a box.

“What’s that?” I scrunch my brows looking at him.

“I had an after birth dress made for you. The finest silk, in your favorite color.” I look up to him with glossy eyes.

“I love you.” I look up to him and he cups my cheeks and presses a kiss to my lips.

“I love you.” he hums and stands back.

The maester comes to the bed and begins his checks. The midwives come to my side and help soothe me. My father curls into the bed next to me and I grab his hand. The pressure and the waves of pain become closer together and a low groan comes from my mouth.

“It’s time.” I nod and in moments I’m swarmed with hands and bodies.

My first push steals the breath from me but the following pushes send adrenaline through me. My father smooths my hair as I softly curse before there’s a slight release of pressure. I hear the soft cry and I go to reach for my babe but the pressure starts once more. Some tears trickle down my cheeks and my father wipes them away and whispers words of praise as I start pushing once more. My body now used to the pain and the pressure starts pushing once more. It takes less effort than my first babe and with a cry from me my second babe comes out and lets out a loud cry.

The midwives flock around me and wipe my face and fan me off while my father is ushered down to cut the cords. He wraps the babes in the blankets and brings them over to me. Tears pour down my face as I look at our fresh babes. I look up to him and see that he’s also shedding a couple tears.

“You did so good, sweet girl.” he rests one of the babes in my arms and lays down next to me with the other. “I’m sorry that you didn’t get your girl.” his voice soft.

“Two more little boys.” I chuckle slowly trailing my finger across their brows.

The midwives whirl around our chambers cleaning up and we hand the babes off to them to be cleaned and checked over more thoroughly. My father helps me up and my grip on his arm has my knuckles going white. I nod at him to keep going and he helps me change into the new dress.

“Princess, I wish you would rest.” the maester clicks his tongue.

“I will.” I glare at him as I slowly walk back to the bed with fresh towels.

Daemon helps me lay back and presses his lips against my brows again. He gets into the bed next to me once more and the midwives bring our babes back over to us. I adjust the top of my dress and bring the babes to my chest. My father helps hold one of the babes as they latch onto me. The midwives and master filter out of the room switching places with my awaiting handmaidens.

“Is there anything we can bring you, Princess?” they ask, looking at my babes with love.

I ask for a couple drinks and snacks and they’re back in moments before leaving me and Daemon to bond with our new babes. There’s a quick knock and my father tells them to enter with annoyance. My handmaiden brings in Aelon and he wiggles out of her arms and reaches for us. Daemon nestles the babe in my arms and gets up and brings Aelon over to us.

“My family.” Daemon smiles crawling back into bed with Aelon.

“What shall we name these two?” I hum looking to the babe on my right who has unlatched and fallen asleep.

“I’d like to name this one Maelor.” he hums, brushing the babes hair that is still suckling at me. “You choose his.” he nods at me.

“You shall be my sweet little, Aemon.” I coo, pressing my lips to the sleeping babe in my arms.

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2 years later - Aelon’s second name day

I smooth my gown and admire myself in the mirror. I watch as my handmaiden places my necklaces and cuffs while another offers me different earrings. I smile when I hear my father walking through the doors. He comes to stand behind me and looks over my form. He wraps his hands around my waist and my handmaidens quietly excuse themselves from our chambers. His hands start to travel up to my breasts and I bat them away turning to him with pursed lips.

“Later. Aelons name day celebrations are to begin soon.” I grab his arm and start to tug him out of our chambers.

A smile blooms across my features as I take in the decorations in the great hall. Streamers and flowers are spread across almost every surface and the hearths are lit causing a warmth to spread throughout the hall. I hear Aelon giggling and I turn seeing him running to me followed by two more carrying my other boys.

“Oh look at all of my little boys.” I coo peppering them with kisses. “How have they been?” I look over the ladies and they smile saying they’ve been perfect little princes.

Daemon starts to lead me to the dais and the ladies follow behind and take seats at a small table behind us and fuss over the twins. Aelon sits in my lap and grabs for Daemon who offers him his fingers to play with. The doors groan open and the King and his family walk through and make their way to us.

“Let us see this growing Prince.” the King smiles and I bring Aelon down to him. “As handsome as I remember.” his eyes twinkle before he makes his way up to the steps.

The hall slowly begins to fill with the visitors from across the realm excited to get a glimpse at the inside of Dragonstone. Soft music begins to echo throughout the hall and servants rush in with food and drinks. Aelon charges wildly between the tables giggling as he passes visiting Lords and Lady’s. I watch with a soft smile as my handmaidens chase after him until he jumps up on the dais underneath the table and looks up at me and Daemon.

“Come here you little beast.” Daemon scoops him up and he tries to wiggle out of his arms.

“No more or you won’t be allowed to have cake.” I whisper to Aelon who pouts and sits in Daemon's lap.

“Imagine once the twins can run around with him.” Daemon chucks and I take a generous sip of wine.

“Then you’ll be running after them.” he smiles at me and pats my thigh.

The rest of the celebrations carry on and everyone comes up to our table to see Aelon. Aelon ends up sneaking off the dais and when I find him he’s at the table near the servants eating cake by the plate. I rise from my chair sighing before making my way over to him. I scoop him up and bring him back to the table with his frosting covered face and I turn to Daemon who is trying to hide his laughter.

The celebration goes long into the night and I was half tempted to feign an illness to retire to our chambers early. My handmaidens have long ago taken the children to bed and all that’s left in the hall is the King and Queen.

“You two have really turned this cold rock into a home.” the King says with wine slurred words.

“Husband.” the Queen hisses.

“No, he’s right enough.” I offer her a soft smile which she sheepishly returns.

“I had figured you would have more children in these halls by now.” the King raises his brows to Daemon.

“We’re working on it.” I chuckle while sipping my wine as Daemon places his hand on my thigh.

We continue to talk and the Queen hushes the King after almost everything that comes out of his mouth. Daemon continues to chuckle and his hand on my thigh squeezes softly. His touch a promise of what’s to come once were sealed behind the doors to our chambers. The King finishes his glass of wine and exhales deeply. The Queen excuses them from the hall leaving us alone.

“Get up on this table.” Daemons words low.

“The servants will be-“

“Waiting outside until we leave to start cleaning.” he raises a brow. “Be a good girl and sit on this table and serve yourself to daddy.” my cheeks flush as I start to push my chair back.

He pulls me in front of him and I look down at him. I lean down and press my lips against his. His kiss is slow and sensual. He slowly pulls back, lifting me up and placing me on the table. He takes his time pulling my skirts up as I look at him with an intense need. I gasp as he quickly pulls my small clothes aside and dips down.

Daemon licks at me with fervor and I catch myself from falling back on the table. My teeth dig into my lip as he swirls around my bud. A small squeak drops from my mouth as he pushes two fingers in. I claw into the wood when his fingers curl and my legs shake. Moans slip past my lips and I give up trying to be quiet and let the obscene sounds pour out. The louder I get the faster his tongue and fingers move.

“Daddy,” I whine, feeling my high approaching. “Please, daddy,” I gasp as my hips start to jerk. My pleasure pours out of me and he groans into me before coming out from beneath my skirts. He looks at my heaving chest with a smirk and stands and helps me off the table.

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” he hums, pulling me out of the hall.

“There’s somewhere else I want to go.” I lick my lips looking up at him. His eyes light up as he nods at me to lead the way. I lead him through the halls and he lets out a soft chuckle as I pull him into the hall that has our house seat and he looks down at me with a smirk. I tug him over to the seat and push on his chest for him to sit. He sits back and spreads his legs looking up at me with an amused smile.

“This is a surprise, sweet girl.” he hums, holding his hands out for mine. I feel more wetness pool between my thighs at the sight of him relaxed and leaning back. His tongue darts across his lower lip as his eyes roam all over me.

“I thought you'd have taken me here by now.” I take small steps to put myself between his legs and he watches my every move.

“How long have you thought about this?” his hands grab at my waist, softly squeezing. He pulls me closer and looks up to me with hungry eyes.

“A while now.” my voice barely a whisper. “I want you buried inside me on our house seat. Make my moans echo throughout the hall. Fill me.” the last words a plea.

A low groan comes from his lips as he removes his hands from my waist and starts to unlace his trousers and I start lifting my skirts. His length bobs up against him and he pulls me onto his lap. My knees find a home on the cold stone on either side of him. He lines himself up and sheaths himself inside me quickly. I start bouncing quickly and his hips start to snap up into me. His fingers dig into my waist and I let my head rest against his shoulder as we chase our highs together.

“You’re so fucking indecent. Begging me to breed this sweet cunt. Ask me nicely and I will.” he grunts as I whimper above him.

“Daddy,” I gasp as he takes control of all of the movements. “Fill me, breed me, please, please,” I gasp and his palm lands against my cheek under my skirts. His fingers dig into my tender flesh and I moan loudly.

“That’s it, good girl.” he chuckles watching as my head falls back. “Squeezing my cock so tightly.” he grunts and my pleasure slams through me with a loud cry of his name. He continues to rut up into me and I whine as I feel him start to fill me. He keeps pushing up causing us both to tremble with extra pleasure.

“Thank you, daddy,” I whimper before capturing his lips once more. He pulls me off of him and we situate our clothes before making our way back to our chambers where we stay tangled together for the rest of the night.

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5 years later - Aelon 7 - Maelor & Aemon 6 - Rhaela 5

I’m smiling at my daughter in the mirror of my vanity as I brush her beautiful silver hair. Everyday I thank the Gods for giving me my precious little girl, Rhaela. She pulls open my drawers and holds up a necklace and looks at me with her round eyes. I grab it from her hands and place it around her neck before I go back to brushing her hair.

“What about this one? Can I wear this one too?” I chuckle, grabbing another necklace from her.

“Of course.” I him clasping it around her neck. I tie the top of her hair back and leave the rest flowing before I offer her my hand.

“Are we going to the gardens?” she grabs my hand and pulls me to the doors.

“We are.” I pull the doors open for us. “We have to check on the flowers you're growing.” she lets go of my hand and starts to sprint down the hall.

“Not too far.” I call after her with a smile. She waits for me at the end of the hall and we begin to descend the steps. Once we step outside the warm air kisses us as a greeting. She tugs me forward again and into her little garden.

“Look,” she coos plucking a flower.

“We should leave them to keep growing.” I hum looking at the flower in her hand.

“I’m sorry.” her smile drops.

“It's okay,” I nod. “We can bring this to go show your brothers.” her smile starts to form again and she nods quickly. She places the flower in her pocket and I stay kneeled on the stone with her as we look at her growing plants. I rise and lead her into the main gardens and lean down to her. “We can pick the flowers in here.” I whisper. “Aelon used to pick them all the time as a babe.” she looks at me with wide eyes.

“Really? Which ones were his favorites?” she looks around. I lead her over to the lily’s and she smiles, bending the stem so she can smell it. “Can I bring him one?” she asks with a sheepish smile.

“I think he’d love that.” I nod and she plucks it from the stem and shoves it in her pocket.

“Can we give it to him now?” I look down at her with a smile as she jumps with excitement.

“You don’t want to go to our bench today?” she shakes her head pulling me out of the gardens. I follow her and she pulls me over to the training area and she peeks around the corner watching them. “Go on. I’m right behind you.” I encourage and she starts to walk across the sands.

“It’s my turn to use fathers sword.” Maelor yells at Aelon.

“You can’t even hold its weight.” Aelon yells back.

“I can too.” Maelor charges at Aelon.

I look at Daemon who says a few hushed words and they’re huffing and apologizing to each other. I look around the beach to find Aemon and see him along the shore collecting small rocks and shells. He is such a tender boy, has no taste for training and weaponry. Daemon invites him nonetheless and on days when he declines I love it when he joins me and Rhaela in the gardens.

“Aelon,” Rhaela shouts running through the sands to him. “Mother said these were your favorite.” she pants, digging through her pocket. I watch as she takes out the crumpled flower and Aelon looks down at it with scrunched brows.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Aelon looks at the lily in her hands and she frowns.

“Aelon,” I scold and he sighs dramatically.

“Thank you, Rhaela.” he picks the flower out of her hand and shoves it in his pocket.

“Mother, look.” Aemon comes running up to me.

“What do you have for me today, hm?” I smile squatting down.

“Just some rocks.” his voice small as he blinks up at me.

“Oh no, these are special rocks.” I coo, taking a couple from his hands. “See this one?” I point to one of them. “This one has been here since the days of Aegon the Conqueror.” his eyes light up.

“Really?” he picks it out of my palm. “It’s that old?” he holds the rock up in the sun and examines it.

“It is.” I hum. “And this one.” I point to the next one. “Has been here long before the moon and stars.” he looks up at me with wonder.

“No.” he looks up at me with pursed lips.

“Yes.” I nod with a smile.

“Father.” Aemon calls Daemon over to us as I softly chuckle.

“What is it?” he lifts Aemon up into his arms.

“Mother says this has been here since before the moon and stars.” he points to the rock I’m holding and I look to Daemon.

“She’s right.” he nods, plucking the stone from my fingers. I watch with a smile as he goes on talking about the stone and Aemon listens to his every word. He offers the stone to Aemon once more and plops him back on the sand. We lean against each other watching our children flock together on the shores of our home.

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2 years later

I hold back my chuckles as our kids run around our chambers. They’ve been fighting about who gets to hold the babe next. I gave birth over half a year ago but their love for him has only grown. The second he opened up his violet eyes I felt my heart grow even more.

“It’s my turn to hold Vaegon.” Aelon pouts standing above Rhaela.

“You’ll upset him you beast.” Rhaela waves him off.

“You’re a beast.” Aelon hisses at her and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s my turn anyways.” Maelor purses his lips.

“No, it's my turn.” Aemon says with a frown.

“Okay okay,” Daemon sighs standing. “The four of you out.” he takes Vaegon into his arms and passes him to the awaiting handmaiden. He shoos our children out with the other handmaidens and turns back to me with a smile. “I forget how quickly our army can take over our chambers.” he chuckles, walking over to me in my chaise.

“That they do.” my face warms with a smile. “I love them so much. I love you so much.” I reach for his hand and he twines our fingers. I tug him down onto the chaise with me and he chuckles against my lips. “Should we have a couple more?” he pulls back and looks at me with a raised brow. “I’m getting old, I’m quickly approaching thirty years, husband.” he barks out a laugh.

“Old.” he shakes his head. “You don’t look a day over twenty.” I roll my eyes playfully at his words.

“We’ve been wed for over ten years now, you needn’t sweet talk me.” he leans down.

“Oh but I like the way you blush and squirm when I do, sweet girl.” he lowers his body to mine. “I’ll never tire of it.” he places his lips on mine softly. “You truly want another babe already?” he searches my eyes.

“I would like to so Vaegon can grow with someone his age.” I nod.

He lifts himself off of me and offers me his hand and begins to lead me over to the bed. His lips press against mine and start to trail up my jaw. The laces to my gown are softly pulled and my dress slips down my body. My slip is lifted over my head at the same leisurely pace and his hands lay me back gently. His soft touches make my skin feel like it’s on fire and I whine when he stands back.

He smirks at me as he starts to pull his clothes off. I reach out for him to return to me and he’s crawling into our bed on top of me. I lean up and bring my lips to his and we let our tongues continue the slow dance our fingers started. His fingers tease down my center pulling a whine from me and he begins to kiss down my neck. His fingers find my bud and swirl against it and my fingers dig into his back.

“I love that you always want to stay swollen with my child. Such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me.” his voice husky as one of his fingers dip down to my pooling wetness and dips it in. He lets out a low chuckle, “Your greedy little cunt is already squeezing my finger.”

“Please,” I gasp softly as he slowly starts to pump his finger while keeping his thumb circling my bud. He pushes another finger into me and the sounds of my wetness grow louder along with my whimpers. He licks across my chest as I feel my stomach start to coil. “Yes, daddy,” I cry out feeling my high slam through me.

He pulls his fingers out and I look down watching him spread my wetness over his length before filling me completely. He slowly pulls out with a smile on his face as I squirm beneath him. When he pushes back in it’s not faster and the feeling of the stretch has my toes curling. He continues with this slow pace as soft whines pour from my lips.

“I’ll never tire of the feel of you, sweet girl.” he presses his forehead against mine. I wrap my arms and legs around him and he starts a slow rhythm. We rock our hips together letting out soft curses and each other's name. My pleasure washes over me with a cry of his name. “I love you, sweet girl.” he rasps as he fills me with his.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

10 years later

I watch with tear filled eyes as my eldest son and my only daughter share their vows. Daemon holds me against his side as he smiles down at me cupping my face. Memories of our wedding flood my mind and I reach up to press my lips against his. We turn our attention back to our children as they look at us with wide smiles.

Over the years I’ve been blessed with seven children. Raising every one of them has been a privilege and Daemon has been devoted to every single one of them. We’ve raised them to be honorable and brave and I’ve been so proud of the accomplishments they’ve achieved.

I never would’ve dreamed that my desire for this all those years ago would actually come to fruition. I never imagined I could ever be so content and at ease. The halls of my home are filled with warmth and love. There’s nothing more I could ever want for.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

um wtf this was supposed to be a one shot and now it’s ending after 6 chaps 🧎🏼‍♀️ thank you so much to everyone who saw the vision and went on this journey with me 🥰 manifesting a daddy daemon for all of us 💞

anything for you tag: @mamawiggers1980

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon x reader smut #hotd fanfic #x reader #x reader fic #hotd smut #x reader smut #daemon x you

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strnilolover · 3 months ago

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Regarding prince!matt x maid!reader and Ik it nnn but… how did their first time go?? Like maybe they did it at night bend down on his throne or in the ballroom, I just wanna see if he’s got that game in him as a prince 😋😋

I think darling and matt’s first time is actually really sweet and gentle, and not in the open because that could risk them getting caught and they don’t want that.

warnings : smut. unprotected p in v (be careful). fingering. head (f!receiving). matt the much. missionary prince matt. soft sex. pet names (darling, baby, sweetheart). first time together (but not losing virginities!). and more?

It was late at night, matt had just gotten into his room for the night after running around and doing several things that were required of him. He was exhausted to say the least, walking over to his bed still fully dressed and flopping down on his back.

Darling was trailing right behind him into the room, closing the door behind her as she made her way and sat on the edge of his bed. Of course she had accompanied him the whole day — like she always did. It being one of the many things she was required to do as his maid. But, matt right off the bat didn’t always have her do the things she was supposed to do.

Matt groaned, his hand coming up to rub at his face. “Darling, could you draw me a bath please?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows to look at her. She smiled, giving a small nod before walking off to his conjoined bathroom.

She quickly grabbed out his towels, laying them on the counter before she wandered over to the more than averaged sized bathtub — starting the water and turning it to hot. Grabbing a thing of soap, she poured some under the running faucet — the bubbles quickly filling out on top of the water as steam started to rise in the atmosphere of the bathroom.

Darling smiled to herself, making sure everything was perfect and in order before she left the room — going to get matt.

Her shoes pattered against the flooring, approaching Matt’s bed as she leaned over his body. “Matt?-“ she whispered, seeing that his eyes were closed. But he hummed in response, peeking an eye open at her. “-uh your bath is ready..” she stated, getting ready to retreat and lean back. But before she could get very far, matt grabbed her — pulling her down on top of him.

He held her to his chest. “You’re always so good to me darling..” he said, rolling over and pinning her beneath him. Her cheeks flushed, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “I- jus’ doing my job.” she muttered, but they both knew it was more than that.

He hummed, smiling softly down at her. “Uh huh, you sure?” he teased, and she just giggled nervously. He gave her on last look, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her temple before sitting up and climbing off the bed. She sat up on her elbows, watching as he walked toward the bathroom. But, before he entered — he turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder.

“You comin’ darling?” he asked, opening the bathroom door widely while he waited for her response. She furrowed her brows, now sitting up and sliding off the bed herself. “Coming? but i - i never go in there with you matt…to respect your privacy.” she mumbles.

He raised a brow at her, “Yes well…i’d like for you to join me this time if you’d like.” he says, turning now to face her fully. Her position remained by his bed, hesitating. “I’ve made sure to make it clear that i wanted to be left alone for the night to everyone else — no one will bother us.” he reassured, holding his hand out in the air toward her.

She stared at him, and then to his hand — contemplating it. Sure they’ve never seen each other in less clothing before…but — she took a few steps forward. Was she comfortable with it? she knew matt wouldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to.

Before she could think anymore about it, she walked the rest of the way to him — slotting her hand in his. Matt smiled, tugging her into the bathroom with him and closing the door.

His hand slipped from hers as he made his way over to the tub, leaving her to stand over by the door. His hand dipped into the water — testing the temperature before he turned back to her. His eyes softened, “You know darling, you don’t have to stay — you can leave at any time.” He said, stepping close to her once more.

She could feel her cheeks heat up as his fingers brushed against her hand, his gaze gentle. But, she shook her head. “No…no i don’t want to leave — just…just we haven’t — you know..” she trailed off, and he understood what she was saying. “I know, but you won’t be judged baby…you never will be.” he assured, guiding her closer to the tub.

Her heart fluttered, and she nodded. He stepped back and turned away, giving her space to undress herself — just as he did the same. When she was finished, she stood there, not sure what to do. “Are you alright darling?” she heard matt ask from behind her. “Y-yeah..are you done?” she asked in return.

“Yes — may i turn around?” he whispered, but there was no push in his voice — he wanted to make sure she was okay with this. “Uhm — yeah..yeah you can.” she whispered back, feeling herself grow warm once more. She could hear matt’s feet move, and then the silence that followed. She started to grow nervous — there was only ever one other boy who saw her like this, but it felt different with matt.

His feet moved his body closer to her, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body against her back. With a hesitant hand, he placed it on her shoulder — gently turning her around to face him. When their eyes connected, she could see just how flustered he was himself. “You look so beautiful darling.” he said, his hand coming up to brush her hair over her shoulder.

She couldn’t keep her eyes on his, wanting to look anywhere but. Though, when her eyes accidentally flicked down — she quickly drew them back up, eyes widening. Matt chuckled slightly, “it’s okay baby, here c’mon.” he said, holding her hand and helping her step into the tub. He got in after, setting into the water behind her.

They finally slipped into the warm water together, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. She rested against him, her head tipping back to rest against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her back.

Though despite the warm water being soothing, she couldn’t help but feel as though someone might just walk in at any moment. She wasn’t supposed to be with him like this — they both knew the risks.

Matt ran his fingers through her hair, soothingly. “Just breathe-“ he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “-i promise you everything will be okay…no one is going to bother us.” and with that, she allowed herself to fully relax.

As the bathwater settled, darling was the one who stood up first, carefully stepping out and wrapping herself in a soft, plush towel. The warm fabric was comforting, yet nothing compared to the feeling of matts gaze lingering on her. She glanced back, catching Matt’s eyes on her, his expression thoughtful yet unmistakably captivated. A faint blush crept up her cheeks, but she held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

Matt rose next and stepped out of the tub, mirroring her actions as he wrapped a towel around himself. Together, they walked quietly to his room.

It all felt — not real — somehow. Here Darling was, wrapping in nothing but a towel in matt’s room — the princes room. All while he is in the exact same position. Taking a bath together was one of the first…intimate things they had done, besides kissing and touching and hugging.

Yes there were times that she would have non-innocent thoughts about matt, who wouldn’t? But she never acted on them — not even when she could. She could feel the pull between them — he wanted it too, Matt could feel it.

She stood there at the foot of his bed, her back facing him as he walked out of the bathroom. She clutched her towel close to her chest, not really knowing what to do.

Before she got too deep in thought — Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re so beautiful darling, you know that right? i’ll keep telling you until you know.” he whispered, bringing his face down to slot between her neck and shoulder, pressing a few light kisses.

She let out a sigh, tipping her head back. They’ve never gone further than some daring touches here and there — always being too busy or not having any privacy. It’s not like she didn’t want to go further — she did, but she was nervous. Should she stop him?…or does she want to continue?

Matt’s lips continued to pepper kisses along her shoulder, moving closer to her neck. She hummed — it’s now or never. Quickly, she turned herself around in his grasp, bringing her hands away from her towel and letting her arms wrap around his neck. Her towel now falling and pooling around her feet.

Matt’s breath caught, glancing down at her now exposed body — as if he didn’t see it a little bit ago. His hands found her hips, squeezing them as she leaned up to try and capture his lips with hers. But, leaned back — looking into her eyes now, and she pouted.

“Matt..” she whined softly, and he just shushed her. “Are you sure you wanna go further?” he whispered, groaning softly as she leaned forward and placed a small kiss on his collarbone. She nodded, “Please..we may never get another chance and — i’m ready, i want you baby..” she said, her words muffled against his skin as she continued to press her lips to him.

“Fuck darling…okay-“ he cut himself off with another groan, her teeth nipping his skin. She’s never heard him swear — and it made heat pool in her stomach — she wanted to hear it more.

She leaned away, looking up at him through her lashes. She wasn’t nervous anymore — no — she was excited. Matt looked down at her, smiling as his hands left her hips, tugging the towel free from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor as well.

Immediately, her eyes looked down — admiring how he looked, not getting a chance to earlier due to her nerves. And she gasped softly as she took him in..he was beautiful. Matt smirked at her expression, placing his hands on her hips again which snapped her from his thoughts. Slowly, he started walking her backwards until he had her laying on his bed underneath him. Darlings back hit the mattress with a soft thud, her eyes beaming up at Matt.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips — it was soft and affectionate but full of passion. She whimpered into his mouth, her hands coming up to tangle into his locks of hair, tugging softly. Matt smiled, moving away slowly to trail kisses down her neck and between the valley of her breasts. His eyes peering up at her, asking for permission, her eyes were already looking down at him and she nodded.

With that, he moved his mouth to the right — pressing tender kisses to her breast before taking her nipple into his warm mouth, his eyes closing. She moaned at the sensation, her hands gripping his hair tighter as he swirled his tongue around her nub. “Ah - Matt..” she moaned breathlessly, pushing his head closer to her — like she couldn’t get enough.

His eyes opened, pulling away with a soft pop, “Yeah darling?” his voice was rough now — the sound making her shudder. “P-please..need you..”

And — how could he ever say no to her? He hummed moving down the bed more as he continued to look at her. “Don’t worry baby..we’ll get there soon. Jus’ let me make you feel good, yeah?” he said, his hands being placed on her thighs before spreading them wider than they were before.

She whined, nodding her head in agreement. His stomach laid flat against the sheets, the hands on her thighs hiking her legs over his shoulders. “M-matt?.. oh-“ before she could say anything more, his mouth attached itself to her pussy — his lips wrapping around her clit, sucking softly as a free hand came up to run through her wet folds.

He groaned as her wetness coated his fingers, the vibrations making her moan louder than she intended to. Matt’s fingers teased her entrance as his tongue started to swirl patterns on her bundle of nerves.

Darlings fingers tugged at his locks, pulling his face deeper onto her. “Please..p-please” she muttered — she doesn’t know what she was asking for, but Matt seemed to have gotten the memo. His fingers stopping their teasing as he slowly slipped one in — her hips rocking forward.

Matt continued his ministrations, moving his fingers at the right pace — curling them to hit that sponged spot inside her walls. Her legs closed around his head — grinding against his mouth and fingers. “Baby..” she moaned in a warning, the pressure building slowly in her lower stomach.

Matt smirked, slowing down his tongue and fingers before stopping completely — pulling himself away despite the hold she had on him. She whimpered at the loss of contact, trying to pull him back. “W-wait..no-“ she started, but he cut her off softly.

“Shh darling, gonna give you what you want now, yeah?” he said, moving himself onto his knees — looking down at her. And — she looked absolutely breathtaking. Her hair sprawled around her and disheveled, her face flushed and dazed — she was so beautiful.

He leaned down, hovering himself above her. One hand being place by her head on the pillow as his other grabbed her leg softly, bringing it up to rest against his hip. “So pretty my love.” he whispered, and her face flushed more.

Matt leaned up again, taking the hand by her head and reaching down — grabbing his hard cock. He lined it up to her entrance, looking up at her once more. “Are you positive darling? If it gets to be too much we can stop at any point okay? all y’gotta do it tell me.” he said, wanting to be absolutely sure this is what she wanted.

“I’m sure…i want this — i want you-“ she started, reaching her hands up to rest against his chest. “-go slow please.” she whispered, and he smiled. “Of course.” he said, leaning back down to capture her lips in another soft kiss. His hips moving forward at the same time — pushing past her wet folds.

Darling gasped, the sound turning into a breathy moan against his lips. “Ah-“ she breathed, her hands moving to his back, nails digging into the flesh. “Fuck..doin’ so good darling — so good for me.” he moaned as he pulled away, pushing slowly until he fully bottomed out.

When he did, He stopped, waiting until she could tell him it was okay to move. When her glassy eyes looked at him and she nodded — he started to move, grunting at the way her walls sucked him in. He stayed close to her — his breath fanning over her face in pants as her did the same.

“s’good…feels s’good Matt.” she whined, digging her nails deeper into his flesh. He nodded, bringing his face to her neck. “Y-yeah?-“ he moaned as her walls squeezed him. “y’feel so good darling, so pretty baby — s-so good f’me.” he praised, his hips keeping their slow pace as she requested.

The pleasure coursing through her body was unimaginable..it felt so — good. He was gentle, making sure to not hurt her — he wanted this to be good for her. Eventually, the slow pace wasn’t enough.

“Matt — baby please, move — move faster.” she panted against his shoulder. Pulling away from her neck, his hips picked up pace — not too hard but just enough. The new speed made her head tip back against the pillow, sparks flying up her spine. Her mouth agape as little sounds escaped — Matt’s hands holing her close to him as he continued to move his hips.

“C’mere darling i-“ he muttered, reaching a hand up to her face and tilting it back to his. His lips crashing against hers — desperate, hot, and sweet. She returned the kiss, the knot in her lower abdomen from earlier returning as she panted into his mouth.

Pulling away, she whined — hugging Matt closer to her. “Matt — m’gonna..gonna cum — please..” and he nodded. “Me too darling…where — where should i?..” he groaned, his release fast approaching.

“In me, s’okay p-promise!-“ she squeaked at a particular thrust of his hips, her head throwing back, his tip grazing the spot inside her. Tears started to spill over her waterline — but they weren’t bad — they were good.

She babbled incoherent words, looking back at him as she grabbed his face and kissed him again. “Shit — Matt…coming, ha-“ and the band snapped, her release rippling through her body as she mewled. Her lips still attached to his, kissing him like her life line. “Love you, love you, love you.” she chanted over and over again.

The words seemed to trigger Matt, his teeth nipping her bottom lip as his hips stilled — spilling himself inside her with a moan. “I - love you too.” he moaned, pumping himself inside her until he came to a stop, his lips detaching from hers after he kissed her one last time.

Their breathing was ragged, bodies sweaty as Matt’s forehead rested against hers. After a moment, he moved, slipping free from her and rolling to the side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to himself — pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Did so good baby..so proud of you.” he whispered, and she smiled through the haze, muttering a ‘thank you’ as she started to grow tired.

Matt noticed, smiling down at her as he slowly got up from the bed — moving to the bathroom as he grabbed a warm rag and some fresh clothes of his own to slip on her. Slipping back into the room, he made his way over to her and cleaned her up. Slowly moving the rag against her sensitive core, making sure she was clean.

He helped her into his clothes, slipping back into bed beside her — tucking her against his chest. She was almost asleep, her chest rising and falling with soft breaths.

“I love you so much.” was the last thing she heard from him before she drifted off to sleep.

IM SO SORRY IF THIS SEEMS RUSHED. ITS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR A GOOD WEEK CAUSE MY BRAIN BLANKED WHEN WRITING IT BUT HERE YOU GUYS GO <3

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invinciblerodent · 1 year ago

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here he is, the Idiot Prince himself, thoroughly enjoying some chin scratches in his silly collar with his lil vampire teefies out

my cat Booboo is... very strangely clumsy for a cat. he has to wear a Cone of Shame right now (for reasons stemming entirely from him being a stupid baby), but despite mild existing issues he has with coordination, when he has the zoomies and he's running around like a little idiot, he seems to... kinda forget that he's wearing a cone? that's limiting his vision and bending up his whiskers? so rather than adjusting his trajectory when there's an obstacle he knows is there and is fully capable of walking past even with a cone on, when he's zooming, he just. he runs full speed into it. walking? perfectly fine, a regular cat. running? like the ball in a pinball machine.

and, this is relevant, he also can't meow. he just.... makes noises. that sound kinda like he's trying to meow, but it's more this... weird, inarticulate screaming, that he does? he's been like that from when we got him and there's nothing medically wrong with him, he just. can't meow. only scream.

now, I should of course be trying to help him best as I can, curb his little idiot tendencies, and like... try to prevent him from zooming around while screaming bloody murder (like he usually does), but I.... I kinda can't

because it all happens so fast that what I hear is just "(very fast, happy-tappy feets barreling past) (loud and enthusiastic MREAAAAHHHHH!!!!)" HEAVY THUD "(less enthusiastic mreeeeeaaaaahh)"

#squirrel speaks #Idiot Prince and Stinky Princess are both v affectionate terms to me btw #do i have a bat #is that it I've somehow adopted and raised a wingless bat

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cleo-fox · 6 months ago

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As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part VIII

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you lie to yourself. Chapter Warnings: Sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, praise kink, wall sex, semi-public sex, library sex, unrealistic refractory periods. Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

You don’t know what this is and you don’t know how to navigate it.

Every night from dusk to midnight, you are in his bed. He makes you no promises and you don’t ask him to. You tell yourself that it’s meaningless, harmless, a bit of fun.

You ignore the fact that most sensible people would not define bedding a prince as a harmless bit of fun. Especially not when you’re a servant. Especially not when there’s so much that you could lose.

You ignore the fact that the longer it goes on, the more the meaningless parts start to feel substantive, the more it nudges at something in the center of your chest.

You ignore it all because if you don’t, if you stop and think very carefully about it, that’s when you will realize that you’ve wandered too far down a path that you ought not to have taken in the first place and by that point, it will be too late.

It is getting late and you are trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your head is resting on Loki’s chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat. His fingers have been trailing up your spine and into your hair and back down again. It’s soothing and it also gives you chills—a pleasant contradiction, much like Loki himself.

“I must leave tomorrow,” he says suddenly. “I have business on Midgard.”

“Oh,” you say. You’re not really sure how to feel about that. You’re not really sure whether you’re supposed to feel anything about that. Probably not. “How long do you expect to be away?”

He sighs. “Two months, at least. Likely more.”

“Long enough to cause trouble, I imagine,” you say lightly. There is an unexpected lump in your throat, but you’re doing your best to ignore it. There’s no reason there should be a lump in your throat; therefore it does not exist. You repeat this to yourself confidently, like saying it more than once will make it true.

“Well, naturally.” He rolls over, pulling you with him so that you are on your back and pinned beneath him. “I am the god of mischief, after all.”

“I suppose you are.” You recognize that look in his eyes. “And what mischief are you planning now, your highness?”

He hums and presses a kiss against your collarbone. “The usual sort.” He is growing hard against your belly. “I must have you at least once more before I depart on my journey.”

Despite all your complicated and confusing feelings, your body is warming to his touch, that all too familiar aching need stirring in your hips. “Only once?” you say as you open your legs to him.

“I said at least once. Try to pay attention, darling.”

In the end, he has you twice more, though the last one is quicker than you’d like, motivated by the lateness of the hour. He helps you dress and delays you once more at the door with a long and lingering kiss that you will find yourself returning to many times over the next several weeks.

“I really must go,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ll be missed if I’m away much longer.”

“Surely another minute won’t hurt,” he says, lowering his head to nuzzle the place where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m afraid you underestimate the power of very nosy kitchen maids.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I shall speak to Fritjof about the staffing.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s still a flicker of fear that runs through you at the sound of Fritjof’s name. “You wouldn’t,” you say, forcing your voice to sound light and unbothered.

He laughs quietly. “You’re right. I avoid speaking to that old bat whenever I can.”

You are used to hiding your true feelings about Fritjof. “He’s particular,” you say.

“He’s abhorrent,” says Loki. “If I were king, he would be the first I’d release from service.”

You can’t help but feel a little relieved by this statement. Sometimes it’s easy to feel like Fritjof’s unpleasantness is all in your head, or even just an overreaction.

You can’t say any of this, though, so you keep your expression neutral and polite. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice. “You’re simply accustomed to being well-mannered about it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say so if I was.”

He laughs quietly and runs a fingertip along your cheek. “I suppose not.”

There’s a beat of silence and the lateness of the hour strikes you once again. “I really must go,” you say.

“I know.” He looks at you carefully before leaning in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle, almost tender in a way that makes you want to indulge in silly daydreams.

But the kiss ends, though his hand remains cupped against your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll send for you when I return,” he says.

You want to believe him, but there’s a part of you that’s afraid that this might be the end of your extraordinary little dalliance. Surely his attention will wander elsewhere once he returns. You hastily dismiss the thought and force what you hope is a believable smile.

“Safe travels, highness.”

You’re surprised by how immediately you feel Loki’s absence.

It’s not just the sex, though you certainly miss that. You miss his company, his dry and sarcastic remarks, the way that his eyes light up when you say something sharp or clever. His smile, his quiet huff of laughter against your shoulder, the way his long fingers curl around yours. The way he listens, the way his brow furrows when he’s deep in thought.

You try very hard not to think about what any of that might mean.

You resume your clandestine trips to the library, but you find it’s hard not to think of Loki in a space that you associate so closely with him: here is a book that you know he likes, there is the chair he prefers. The memory of his kiss burns on your lips, the ghost of his touch seared into your skin like a tattoo.

Deep down, you know what this means, though you won’t admit it just yet. Not even to yourself.

The first few days are difficult, but after a few stumbling missteps, you slowly find your way back into the rhythm you found back before Loki upended your days.

You’re soon reminded, though, that these forbidden trips are not without their risks.

It’s only blind luck that saves you. You are coming back from the library, cutting across the dining hall to save time when you notice the lace on your boot has come undone. You bend down to tie it and it’s only then in the sudden silence that you hear footsteps approaching.

You draw back quickly into the shadows, pressing yourself flat against one of the large stone columns. From this vantage point, you can just see the doorway at the far end of the room.

A figure appears and your heart nearly flies out of your chest.

There in the flickering torchlight is Fritjof.

You hold your breath as he crosses the room. It might be your imagination, but you would swear he looks more sinister in this light, with his beady eyes and the torchlight casting gloomy shadows across his face.

He’s a little past your column when he pauses, the sharp flare of his nostrils the only sign of life in his eerily still frame. Your heart is pounding so hard that you worry it might somehow give you away, impossible as it seems. He doesn’t know about the library, you tell yourself, willing it to be true. He doesn’t know I’m here.

His gaze sweeps over the room, his eyes squinting against the torchlight. The permanent line between his eyebrows deepens, almost as if he knows something is not quite right.

But finally, after a long moment, he seems to think better of it and continues on his way, footsteps echoing ominously in the large room.

You only let out your held breath when he leaves. You wait until his footsteps fade and then you make yourself count to one hundred before you tiptoe your way back to your room, your heart pounding the whole way.

If you were sensible, you would give up going to the library. You know that.

But with Loki gone, it’s the only thing you have to look forward to, and for that reason, you can’t quite convince yourself to give it up, though you do start taking a different route back.

And agonizingly slowly, those first four weeks pass.

On the first night of the fifth week, it occurs to you that you’re a little over halfway through. Assuming, of course, that it’s only two months and not longer like he thought it could be.

Assuming, of course, that he still wants you when he returns.

You decide that you’re not going to think about either possibility or the little blip of melancholy that creates strange tightness in your chest. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.

On the third night of the fifth week, you hear footsteps in the stacks.

It must be Fritjof.

You try not to panic as you set the book carefully on the shelf, listening intently. There was always part of you that knew that this was too risky to continue, that being discovered was always the inevitable conclusion. He’d nearly caught you once already, why didn’t you think this time would be different?

A voice comes from behind you. “And what business does a kitchen maid have in the palace library?”

There’s about a half second of terror before you realize that the voice is not Fritjof’s.

It’s Loki’s.

Before you can turn around, strong arms are wrapping around your waist from behind, a broad chest pressing against your back. You relax almost instantly, your fear turning to something that you will later recognize as joy.

“You’re shaking,” he says, pressing a kiss against your neck.

“You frightened me half to death,” you say, your heart beating wildly, half from joy and half from fear. “I thought you were Fritjof.”

“Such grievous attacks on my character already?” he tuts against your neck, though you can feel him smiling. “Any sensible man would be offended by such a comparison.”

“He nearly caught me last week. And you’re much earlier than you said—I didn’t think to expect you.”

He presses a soft kiss against your neck. “Are you disappointed?”

“That depends on how churlish you intend to be,” you say.

He laughs and it only makes you ache for him. He turns you around and before you can get a proper look at him, he’s pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply.

The restless, yearning ache that you’ve felt in your soul since he left finally stills when his lips touch yours. Kissing Loki feels like coming home—it feels so perfect, so right that it would scare you a little bit if there were room in your heart for any feeling other than joy.

It’s a minute or so later when he finally draws back just a little—only enough to speak. “Did you miss me?” he breathes against your lips.

Happy as you are, your first instinct is to deflect. You can’t be vulnerable. Not yet. “I would ask the same of you,” you say.

Instead of answering you directly, he presses his hips against yours so you can feel the hard length of him already straining at the confines of his trousers. You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Now give me a proper answer,” he says, his voice dipping into a slight growl that awakens that familiar, aching heat low in your hips.

A shiver snakes up your spine. “Yes,” you say. “Very much.”

His eyes flash and suddenly he’s pressing you back against the shelf and kissing you deeply. Desperately. You arch against him as his hands palm your breasts before dropping to your hips to pull you closer still, close enough that you can’t help but feel the hard press of his cock against you.

He pulls away abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you deeper into the stacks.

“Where are we going?” There’s a breathy quality to your voice that you hope doesn’t reveal too much.

“You’ll see.”

His destination is a dark, secluded corner near a collection of atlases. Before you can ask more questions, he’s pressing you up against a wall and you realize with a thrill that he intends to have you right here in the library.

“We could be seen,” you say as he hitches up your skirts and hooks your leg up around his waist. But your voice lacks conviction and you can both hear it.

“It’s late and no one ever comes back here.” His hand slips between your thighs, pushing your undergarments aside. “And I need you now.”

It’s a thrilling admission made all the more compelling by his long fingers stroking your slick folds and circling your clit.

“Oh, you did miss me,” he breathes as he slides a finger inside of you. “My poor little kitchen maid, so slick and unsatisfied.”

You are aching and a whimper catches in the back of your throat as he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. You grab his shoulders as a second finger joins the first. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need?” he purrs as he curls his fingers. “Do you need to come before I fuck you into this wall?”

You nod, panting. “Please.”

He chuckles darkly. “Darling, you know that’s not good enough.”

Your clit is throbbing as you tense around his fingers. You’re so close and his time away has left you needy and desperate. “Make me come, Loki. Please.”

His grin is wicked. “Good girl.”

His eyes take on a particular kind of focus that you only ever see when he’s got you hot and bothered and chasing an orgasm. His fingers are fucking into you with a slow precision, the heel of his palm grinding against your throbbing clit, nudging you closer.

“You’re so close,” he says, looking at you hungrily. “I love it when you’re like this, all wild and wanton.” He licks his lips. “You’re going to have to be quiet, though. Can you do that, darling?”

You manage a nod, but barely. The leg that’s not hooked around his waist is trembling.

“I’ve got you, sweet,” he murmurs, his arm firmly squeezing your waist. “Let go. Come for me.”

Your breath is coming in quick, shallow bursts. The instruction to be quiet seemed doable at first, but the feeling that’s cresting inside of you is so much bigger and stronger than you thought. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

“Loki,” you gasp in the last few seconds. “I can’t—”

Somehow, he understands your meaning because he covers your mouth with his, muffling your cries as you come hard, your fingernails digging into his back as you shake so hard your leg threatens to give out.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until the last shudder pulses through you.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he says reverently. “Just lovely.”

“Please—”

You don’t have to say any more. He fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers and frees his cock. There’s no teasing, no delay as he positions himself at your entrance—he wants you too badly to play his usual games, his desire heightened by your weeks apart. He slides into you easily, lifting you fully off the floor as he sheathes himself in you. You whimper and he sighs, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Norns, I missed this,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss you.

If you’d planned things properly, you would be back in his room or somewhere private where you could be as loud as you needed to be. This reunion has awoken something primal and hungry in both of you and staying quiet is a struggle. His hips take up a quick pace, driving into you with a speed and force that speaks to the profound need that had brought you to the corner of the library in the first place. He quickly finds the angle that makes you see stars and soon enough, you’re trembling around him.

“You take my cock so well, darling,” he mumbles against your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. “So good for me, so tight.”

“I’m so close—”

“I know, lovely, I can feel you.” He presses his forehead against yours, emerald eyes intent. “Come with me,” he grits out.

You keep your eyes locked with his until the force of your orgasm tips your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you clench around his cock. He is close behind, gasping out your name as he buries his face in your neck.

It’s a good minute or so before he withdraws, and he seems reluctant to do so. There is something decadent and scandalous about his spend dripping down the inside of your thigh, but you decide you rather like the feeling. It makes you feel like his in a very raw and primal way.

You try not to think about the fact that you have any desire to be his.

He takes your hands in his and a green light spreads over the two of you. When it dissipates, you find yourself in his chambers, in front of his bed.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” you ask.

“It requires some concentration and my mind was singularly occupied,” he says. “I can’t imagine that you would have been very pleased had we arrived in separate places.”

He is right, but you don't want to say as much.

“I’d thought that your skill with magic was too great for such silly mistakes,” you say instead.

“I see my absence has not blunted your tongue.”

You smirk. “I hope you didn’t expect it to. I could not bear for you to be disappointed.”

He chuckles. “Not at all.”

He kisses you again and it’s slow and intimate in a way you don’t expect, in a way that warms you from the inside out.

“I’ve quite forgotten what you look like in my bed,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I suppose I could remind you,” you say.

He kisses you once more. “Turn around.”

He undoes the buttons on the back of your dress with achingly slow precision, pressing soft kisses against the back of your neck and all along your shoulders and spine. Your dress and then your shift and undergarments fall to the floor until you are bare before him.

His fingertips lightly trail along your rib cage and under the curve of your breasts. You suck in a shaky breath. You’ve just had him, but you’re already aching for him again.

His thumbs brush against your nipples and a soft moan falls from your lips.

“You can’t possibly need me again so soon,” he says, but you can tell from the rasp in his voice that this is not one-sided in the slightest. “You’re still dripping with my seed.”

You arch your back so that your ass presses against the growing bulge in his trousers. “You speak as though I am the only one with such a need.”

He hums, pressing back against you. “Perhaps you’re not.”

You look over your shoulder. “Well, your highness?”

He laughs low in his throat, one hand sliding between your legs, gently circling your still sensitive clit. “And here I thought you would be too sated for such boldness.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to try harder this time.”

You’re immediately gratified by the feeling of his bare skin at your back and you barely suppress a shiver. Typically if he resorts to magic to remove his clothes, it ends quite enjoyably for you.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck the boldness right out of you,” he says, his voice growing dark in a way that makes the muscles of your cunt ache in anticipation. You bend at the waist, bracing your hands against the edge of the bed to support yourself as he drags his cock along your dripping folds. “You speak sharply now, but we both know that you turn into a whimpering mess the moment you have my cock in your tight and greedy cunt.”

Quite suddenly, he’s at your entrance and pressing into you, his passage eased by the heady combination of your slickness and his come from earlier. Your back arches and you push up on your tiptoes, trying to take him deeper.

You can’t quite help the sigh that escapes your lips, even though it causes him to chuckle because it proves his point. His fingers massage your clit and you shudder, letting out a soft moan.

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, darling,” he says. “It’s been weeks since I last heard you scream for me.”

You cast a glance over your shoulder. “Like I said, highness: you’ll just have to try harder.”

His eyes darken in a way that makes you shiver. “You’ve grown bolder in my absence, love.”

You smirk. “Then teach me a lesson.”

Your intention is to goad him into fucking you hard enough to make the ache of these last few weeks disappear. His wide, feral grin makes you think you might have succeeded.

“Well, darling,” he purrs, his hips snapping hard against you in a way that makes your toes curl, “if you insist.”

He slips easily into a brisk pace, his fingers rubbing languorously at your clit. The contrast between the two is enough to make you moan in a way that’s so so wanton it’s almost embarrassing.

“Yes, I want to hear all of your lovely noises,” he purrs. “Let me hear how much you missed me.”

His slow pace on your clit is still at odds with the way he’s fucking you and it’s driving you absolutely wild. You’re only getting the added stimulation on every other thrust and while it feels good, it’s not helping you get any closer to coming.

You tolerate it for as long as you can stand, but eventually you can’t help but moan. “Please, Loki.”

“Please what, my love?” he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“More.”

He knows your body well enough at this point that he doesn’t have to ask what you mean—he simply begins massaging your clit in time with the thrust of his cock, making you keen.

“Like that?”

You can only moan in assent and he lets out a low chuckle as he continues with his new pace.

This is what you really needed, you think. His large hand firm on your hips, fingers on your clit, his movements just a little rough, his skin slapping against yours as he drives into you with hard and steady thrusts. You can feel the edge starting to approach, all of your muscles tingling and tensing in anticipation of your release.

He knows your body well—too well, perhaps—and he recognizes how your muscles tighten and twitch around his cock right before you come undone.

And he stops, withdrawing from you completely. “Not yet,” he says.

The whine you let out is perhaps the most pathetic noise you’ve ever made in your life. “Loki, please.”

He turns you around, silencing your protests with a slow, deep kiss. “I need you closer,” he mumbles against your lips.

You let him guide you down onto the bed. While you like it when he takes you from behind, there’s an intimacy to having him on top of you. You can catalog his expressions, count the flecks of gold in his green eyes. You feel simultaneously as though you are perched on a cliff of great height and peering down, but also warm and safe.

It’s a feeling that you probably ought to interrogate; instead you push it from your mind.

He kisses you as he eases back into you and you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He’s slow and gentle with you. You thought you wanted fast and rough, but this…this is an unexpected perfection. You can feel every inch of him stretching and stroking the velvety inner walls of your cunt and every movement is somehow better than the last.

The buildup is slow and unhurried, the opposite of the library, the opposite of how he’d been driving into you mere moments before. He looks deep into your eyes, interrupted only when your lashes or his flutter shut against the rising tides within you both. It’s stirring something in your heart and you find yourself wanting to tell him that you missed this, you missed him, but the words stick in your throat and you suppose that’s probably for the best because these sort of things shouldn’t be spoken aloud when you are a servant who is bedding a prince in secret.

You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. Probably not ever. Instead, you draw your focus to the coil that is slowly winding in the pit of your stomach and roll your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. You pull him down to kiss you, hoping that his focus on taking you to your peak eclipses the fact that there’s far too much feeling in your kiss.

And moments later, your toes curl one last time and you cry out as you completely unravel. He groans deeply and gives two more sharp thrusts before he succumbs to his own bliss.

He gradually slows to a halt, dropping his head to your chest as he catches his breath. You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him on top of you, still pressed inside you, the feel of his sheets on your back. You missed this. You missed him. You—

You shouldn’t continue that thought. You shouldn’t admit to that feeling, even to yourself. It’s stupid. It’s dangerous.

Don’t say it. Don’t think it.

Loki gives a satisfied sigh, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The next time I say I need to be away for weeks at a time, tell me I’m a fool,” he mumbles.

“I’ll tell you you’re a fool regardless of your travel plans,” you say.

His laughter rumbling against your bare skin might be one of the best sounds in the world. “I would expect no less.”

He eases out of you, vanishing the mess and quickly pulling you to his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his chest, draping your leg across his stomach for good measure.

“Did it go well?” you say after a moment of quiet. “Your business on Midgard, I mean.”

He sighs. “It was tedious. I’d rather have stayed here.”

You wonder if he means here on Asgard or here in bed with you. You’re not foolish enough to ask, though you are foolish enough to hope.

“I think it sounds exciting,” you say. “I’ve never left Asgard.”

“I’ll take you, someday.”

The promise in those words—and their sheer impossibility—raises a lump in your throat. “I rather think that would be frowned upon,” you say lightly.

“All the more reason for it.” He strokes a hand along your thigh. “And how did you occupy yourself without my stimulating company?”

“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” you say. “I started reading in the library again.”

“I suppose I have been monopolizing your evenings,” he says, fingers tickling your thigh. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t simply take a book to your quarters.”

You swat at his hand. “You know that’s not permitted.”

He catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Neither is this, technically.”

“Yes, well.” You clear your throat. “I’d rather not give anyone more reasons to look more closely at my evening activities for that reason.”

“Am I to understand that you prefer my bed to the finest Asgardian literature?”

“That may be your understanding, but that’s not what I said.”

“Well.” He presses a kiss against the top of your head. “I suppose I’ll have to make my bed more tempting, then.”

It’s the sort of offhand comment you write off as a silly flirtation—he doesn’t mean anything by it, surely. It’s entirely forgettable.

Except…the next night, there’s a stack of books for you beside his bed.

“What’s this?” you say, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“I told you I intended to make my bed more tempting,” he says.

His eyes are glittering with mischief, but the gesture itself is achingly sweet, one that plucks at your heartstrings and reminds you of all the feelings that you’re pretending you’re not having. He had retrieved the book you’d been reading last night, along with titles by authors you mentioned liking back in the garden so many weeks ago.

That night, he makes you read aloud from a book of love poems while he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue moving in iambs and dactyls on your clit until you come with poetry and his name on your lips. In the afterglow, you curl up next to him and read while he does the same, until you need each other again. It’s a new part of your routine, one that you’ll repeat many times in the coming days.

It’s there in the hazy paradise between prose and the bliss of his touch that a small, secret voice inside of you begins to admit that as much as you say it’s a harmless bit of fun, the situation has spiraled out of control in the worst possible way:

You’ve fallen in love with him. And you know it’s only a matter of time before he breaks your heart.

Next chapter coming soon

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki laufeyson smut #as the clock strikes midnight

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

❝I never asked you to, you bumbling oaf.❞

[ Between advices and jealous-fraught fights, nestles your heart in red satin and ivory touch. Or, your marriage so far with the firstborn son of the King. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,901 ] | Aegon Targaryen II x Wife!Reader

contains— fluff & smutty - nsfw: oral (f receiving), p & v sex, creampie, breeding kink(?), - soft shit if aegon got to at least have a bit more agency lmao - jealousy - sorta angsty in the beginning but eh - your house is unnamed but you're a bad bitch - no use of y/n - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— it wasn't going to be a full smut, but aegon happened so here we are. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa!

Fraught might be a marriage arranged— cost and effect, weighed by titles and expectations of such matches made, emotion of either future spouse the least they weigh when they make their decisions — but you had grown to adore your husband.

You had been warned, of course. Gossip and small-minded chatter followed the firstborn son of the King. That despite the regality of Targaryen roots and colouring, he was a whoremonger, an addled-drunk, a monstrous caveat shrouded in dark green silk and iron.

You were called a victim, a damsel in distress meant to be saved before you had even met him. And yet not a single one of them batted an eye, much less offered a hand to rescue you from such turmoil. More than prepared to send you off. Others, of course, wishing for a prince to be married to their house, spit their scorn and irony.

The day you met him was a hot day. The sun basked the Crownlands with an almost venomous hatred, and it did not help your anticipation. Nor the long and arduous travel that turned the carriage into a hotbox meant to cook.

Your rear had ached in pain, almost as painful as your pinched cheeks that your grandmother had twisted unto your skin before you got out to meet the Queen, the Hand, and your betrothed, reminding you that a Princess Consort must always look her best, must appeal to her husband at all times "but must not be whorish! And sit straight, by the Seven, girl! Remember to exit gracefully! Like a swan, not a duck! Yes, there is a difference! Scamper your sarcasm!"— your gown was heavy, cinched tight and thick in beautiful fabric and small pearls and sapphires.

You had smiled prettily, bowed perfectly, and when you finally faced your betrothed, he was barely able to stand, pale as a sheet, and suffering from his cups the night before, sweat weeping on his brow.

It had sent a strike down your spine, irritation and anger spinning beneath pearly teeth. You bite down any word before they escape, forcing you to a perfect posture and a sharpened edge to your smile.

Aegon Targaryen, Second of his Name, had taken a step back, almost subconsciously, as fear flashed in his darling blue eyes.

Your good brother, having found out of this first interaction, had not stopped teasing your husband for the next few moons. Your good sister, you were told much later, had hummed wistfully, fingers dancing between rings as if she knew much more than anyone else, a small smile playing on the corners of her lips.

The memory makes you laugh now, warming your cold fingers against your first winter storm in Kings Landing. Snow torrents in whirlwinds and spikes, filling the Godswood in flurries and icicles.

Your Lady In Waiting, Emma Redwyne with her pretty Tully red hair and curled lashes that you had always found envy in, bows in greeting. You don't acknowledge her, which you recognise as nothing but pettiness, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You continue to stare forward, hand outstretched in the flurry of snow, when she awkwardly speaks.

"The prince is in your bedchambers, my princess."

You hum in acknowledgement, but no more. She shifts.

"He says he will not leave lest it is you who tells him so."

You turn to her, churlish in your expression of irritation and she winces, tucking her chin once more in false reverence before you sigh. The Lady Redwyne had been a friend once, an acquaintance really. Your grandmother had warned you that though you should have a good relationship with your ladies, it was best to keep them at an arm's length.

"Vipers and greed make stock in the centrefold of power, my dearest," she murmured, gnarled hands twinning your hair, a colour close to her own when she had been your age. You had been told you looked just like her, a gem in her era, her hand sought after by lords and princes alike before your grandsire made a weighty proposal to her house. "No matter what friendship you can build, all of it is but fat clouds and sandcastles. Pretty as they are, easily destructible by the next gust of wind."

"But they would be my ladies." The idea that the women closest to you should be kept with a good eye brought a weight to your chest. Trust is a hard thing to grasp in this place, you were fast learning.

You grandmother tutted, her hands cupping your chin, tilting upward until the same eyes met. One aged and knowing, another young and soon will understand the weight of life. Of the coat she bore with her husband's house in front of the Sept.

"Just watch and see, my sweet. Your future husband is a prince. They will try their damnedest. But you should not lose, for you are his wedded consort."

Now, your eyes linger on the cut of Lady Redwyne's gown. Far too revealing for the coldest touch of the year. The rogue in her cheeks, in her lips. There is a new necklace nestled on her bosom, no doubt an insistent gift from her father.

You wonder if your husband had stirred at the sight of her full visage. That if you had not been upset with him as it it, and have not abandoned your marriage quarters for three moons now, his fingers would have danced across her pale collarbones, fingering the dropped ruby at the centre of her throat. Pressing a light kiss on the gem.

The fornicated memory brings nausea and anger, but you are not new to your role, much less the greed of others, even those closest to you, so you strangled it with will.

If Aegon had dared to mock you anew while you were both in cold waters, he has been too aware now of your anger and what it means for him.

You look back at the peek of red leaves still attached to the tree, almost a stubborn refusal to move with the order of the gods, and you smile despite yourself.

"... My princess?"

Your annoyance spikes.

"And if I tell you to tell him that I will sleep in another chamber, mayhaps upturn a chamber meant for guests, will he then rot forever in my bedchamber?" You turn to her, eyebrow arched. "Will he not be accosted for leaving his duties undone? Must I treat him as a babe throwing a tantrum? Soothe him?" You step toward her. She flinches, a bird wanting to take flight but knows better than to move without her mistress' orders. "Or have you already tried so, to soothe the prince, and have been told to scram, to fetch me, for you are not his wife?"

Her eyes flutter, chest heaving. "My Princess, please—"

"Enough," you say primly, gathering your skirts. "Come to my chambers before dinner but no earlier. The only reason I haven't sent you back to the Reach is by grace and no more."

"My princess." She bows again and you don't miss the clenched jaw as you leave in a flutter of your bloodred gown and arched chin.

You have only just turned a corner when you hear a voice, soft and silky, familiar for many moons now.

"That was harsh of you, good sister."

You pause and spin, letting out a small laugh at the appearance of your good brother. Tall and princely in visage, he inclines his head in greeting while you bow.

"You are mistaken, my prince."

"Hm?"

You smirk. "That was kindness on my part."

He hums, fighting off a smile. Or what you think is a smile. Prince Aemond is still a mystery to you, but he is polite and you find yourself in good ease with your good brother. Unlike your husband, he wears his duty like armour and wield it like a sword. More than once, you are made to imagine what it would be like to have been married to him instead of your husband, and you blanche at the thought.

Though there is complications and evergreen misunderstanding with your husband at most turns, you cannot find yourself happy to the idea of being married to the One-Eyed Prince. There is nothing to say of his scarred appearance— as it does nothing but exemplify his gifted wielding of the sword, but being so honour and duty bound as you, it would be a cool, crisp marriage wheeled on routine and silent understandings.

A monotonous life might be a mercy to most, a dream to some even, but it brings hives to your skin at the mere idea.

Silent dinners and polite conversations are one thing. A marriage built on everything but... it would unsettle and madden your soul.

He offers his arm. "May I escort you to your chambers and my sad sack of a brother?"

You temper your giggle, taking his elbow. "I would be delighted."

Quiet pinches both of your measured footsteps, but you revel in its serenity. Maegor's Holdfast is stone and steel in the winters, fewer bodies lingering in corridors and corners to stave off into rooms with heat, but the rest that do are about, bow at your persons.

"I see you are adjusting well," he finally says. You turn, eyebrow arched. "As a princess consort of the realm."

"Was I so unprepared in my earlier moons?"

"In a way. Helaena says you are still comely and kind, despite being married to my brother."

"I am satisfied in my marriage, Prince Aemond," you say, unable to stop your raised hackles and need to defend your husband. "My duty to the realm is not strained in the least, and I... care for him."

He gives you a long look but you refuse his stare. He hums again, and whatever topic is breached is dropped. The quiet follows up until the doors of your chambers where he stops.

"Thank you for escorting me, my prince. I know your duties occupy your time."

"A duty of mine is to ensure my good sister is in safe hands." He gives a beckoning bow, notching an eyebrow at the door. "And I wish you ever happiness with your marriage to my brother, the Seven knows your duty is harder than mine."

Before you can retort, he is gone, and you are left with a sigh before you push through.

Though a prince, there is nothing princely of Aegon's sprawl on your bed. His gold, silver spun hair like a halo akimbo his face. Warmth emanates from the fire while he plays with his fingers atop his stomach.

"I thought you will ignore me once more, my wife," he speaks to the air, face still straight to the ceiling.

As you close the doors, a nod to your sworn shield, your straightened shoulders hunch as you relax. An unladylike snort breaking through the quiet. You don't see it, but Aegon smiles at the sound, a pang hitting his chest at the sound of comfort that he misses so.

"These are my chambers, husband," you say. "Unless you are meaning to kick me out of the Keep in total, I think my appearance in my own is not a totally shocking thought."

You sit beside him but do not lay down, giving him a good look as he stares up at you with a vacant expression. He is sober, in a way that there is a glassy sheen to his mullish blue eyes the colour of lightning and thunderstorms. His pallour is pale and his clothes are rumpled, but there is no near stench of wine or woman.

In fact he smells like Aegon on his good days; dragon and grime at the edges, soot and wind.

"I have not been to the Silk Street since we have been married," he says as if reading your thoughts. "I have not, and will refuse, to stray from our marital chambers." He gives you a poke. Like a child. "Unlike you."

You know he is telling the truth. He made the vow to you on your marriage bed, hands intertwined, fresh purple blooms appearing on your throat as he bore crescent shaped moons on his back.

You had to wear high-necked collars for two weeks. In the summers. It was impossibly awful, but the memory of your first night is one you cherish. What you go back to when tempers flare and sadness beckons in corners.

He had spent that first night worshipping you, ensuring you are more than sated before he had taken his own pleasure.

"But women who want you need not be whores to tempt you to their beds," you finish softly, unable to stop yourself as you take one of his hands to your lap, spinning the silver ring he keeps on his last finger.

"My wife, dearest to my heart." Your eyes flutter close at the endearments. It was a running joke to both of you, a joke that evolved with sincerity and... well, you hoped was love.

"I had tea with your grandmother, wife."

You looked up from your lunch, lips thinning at the joke and excitement nestled in giggles he was holding back. "Oh no. I knew I should have sent her back home the minute our vows were over."

He laughed then, taking the unoccupied seat across from you as he pressed his lips to your head. It made your heart flutter, even more so as he plucked a berry from your tart and offered it to your lips. He looked with insistence so you ate it. He pressed a thumb to your bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to his own lips. You tried not to furiously blush.

"What has she told you?"

"Many a topic." He laughed again at your groan. Aegon had found himself enamoured with you as days past. Learning how you act less primly and more comfortable in his presence had brought him a good sense of happiness. Something he thought he lost forever. And he found, the happier he made you, the stronger the happiness in himself grew. It was an addicting feeling.

"But the prime idea were endearments."

"Endearments?"

"That a husband and wife with a pretty marriage such as ours, as we are royals, must show hope and perpetual peace for the people."

You frowned. "And... endearments give perpetual peace to the people how?"

"A show of the stability of our marriage. Of fondness. So now, I shall call you my dearly beloved heart."

You made a strange, strangling sound that had your husband giggling in surprise. "Pardon me, my prince. I—"

"Your precious honey bee."

"... Excuse me?"

"Babycakes?"

"Are you ill?"

"The darling of your eye, then."

You blinked. "Pardon?"

"What you call me," he teased.

"I refuse."

"You refuse?"

"Yes." You fought your own smile. "You are not the darling of my eye, and calling you thus, will make me a liar."

The pinched expression of jealousy made you bite your lip. "And who is, pray tell, the darling of your eye?"

"My grandmother."

You pressed your lips together. Aegon blinked in shocked. Then the both of you burst out in hard laughters, holding your chests and stomachs.

"We shall find an endearment for your beloved husband then," he announced after he had gasped for breath, dabbing the tears collected from his eyes. His smile enchanted you, wide and beautiful, upturned with a gaze as if he was beheld by the most darling of creatures. The urge to skip over him, drape yourself on his lap, and kiss him silly was an urge you pushed down.

"The... babe to my wondrous bosom?"

"Aegon!"

"So in counsel? That is not a definite no."

"My love?" he calls now, bringing your shared hands to his lips. "Lay down with me."

Before you can retort, he pulls you down to him until your warmth is shared, burning in a single flame. A sigh leaves your mouth, and the sound urges him to pull you impossibly closer.

"Women may find themselves in our bed, but unless they are you, they are nothing," he says after a minute. You tense up and he rubs your back. "I have made a vow."

"I will not hate you if you do. Anger is sordid, but I know my role. I know that is common practice for husbands, and as Princess Consort—"

He pulls you to him, your chest pressed against his as he held your face in his hands. His eyes are sad but his gaze is firm. "Your role as my wife does not mean you stay silent in your anger. Fight me. Make as much ruckus as you want. Tell Sunfyre to burn me to a crisp. You know as much High Valyiran as I at this point."

You laugh, forehead falling on his chest as you feel the burn in your eyes as tears escaped you. "I am no dragonrider."

A laughter rumbles his chest. "Could have fooled me," he teased.

"What?"

When you look up, he is smirking. "You've ridden me before."

"Aegon!"

He noses your jaw, kissing the edge of your chin. "The lemon of your tart, you mean."

"No, I do not." A sigh leaves you as his kisses turn into suckles, his hands holding you steady, rubbing circles against your skin.

"I think... I am fully forgiven now? For you have slept far away from me—" You yelp as he bites your ear, "— for too long a time. And for spending more time with my brother than you have of me in a while. Truly unfair punishment."

"He has only escorted me."

He flips you both, unlacing the front of your bodice with adept fingers while he leaves a trail of bites at every exposed skin. "While I wait by your chambers like a lovesick fool?"

"I never asked you too, you bumbling oaf."

He huffs a laugh, ripping down the front of your dress as you shriek, eyes meeting your own with a dark glint, before his hot mouth envelops your pert nipple. You keen.

"I am still a-angry with you," you sigh, running your fingers through his silver locks. When your body adjusts, seeking to pleasure the warmth between your thighs, he moves lower as if he can read your mind, read your wants, and when you make a roll of your hips right against his tenting manhood, his groan vibrates against your breast to your ribcages.

"I understand." He leans back on his hunches, smile sweet, before he shuffles around and underneath your dress, past your small clothes, and takes a slow swipe of his finger against your warm, wet folds. Your hips buck, a gasp leaving your throat, and he breathlessly laughs.

"Your beloved honey bee would like to taste the nectar between your thighs that you have so graciously held against me for so long."

You groan, suppressing a shiver as he holds your thighs steady with his own laughter. "The urge to kick you is strong, my husband. Enough to risk the Lord Hand's ire. And your mother's."

He groans, stilling in the midst of pushing your skirts up, he pops his head back toward you. "Please, owner my beating heart. The fire to my dragon. The lemon cake to my tea—

"— that one is your least creative one so far —"

"— Let us not speak of my mother, gods forbid, my grandsire, while I am between your legs. For the good of the realm."

"The good of the realm?" You scoff. Then yelp as he bites your thigh, soothing it with a lap of his tongue.

"Yes, my sweet, the good of the realm." He pops back to you, hair askew, eyes devilish, as he grins. "It is common knowledge that heirs are for the good of the realm. And I cannot bring you pleasure if you keep mentioning people I'd rather not imagine while doing so. And your pleasure, from what your grandmother had told me from our many afternoon teas, my sweetest, golden love, is important for my heirs."

Your giggles turn breathless when he disappears beneath your skirts once more. "I surrender then... apple of my tarts."

The sound of his giggles underneath your skirts soon grow muted against the sound of your pleasure. The thing about Aegon, is that pleasure is meant to be savoured. So as he slowly tears through your own clothes while he makes you reach your peak once, twice, thrice— your skin drenched in sweat, rose blush bloomed your face and neck, arms weakened and thighs unable to hold steady — you turn to your husband, the haze of your orgasm clouding any rational thought as you beheld him, still fully clothed with your juices on his face, a proud smirk twisted on his lips.

"Are you okay, beloved?" He rests a hand on your face and you nuzzle against him. "Shall I call for a bath now?"

"Later," you pronounce breathlessly. "If you do not find yourself inside me in the next second, I shall curse you for evermore."

He laughs, giving you a languid kiss before he steps back and strips.

He does not make a show of it, as harried and hard for you (no catching of his pleasure against the bed could ever compare to thrusting inside of you), and you watch his weeping cock with an unbashed hunger of your own, as he pumps it a few times, eyes staring at your visage as you widen your legs, holding your thighs to give him a sweet view.

He groans. "What Silken Street whore could be compared to my wife so willing? What lady would be enough?"

"I swear to the Seven, if you do not end your blasted soliloquy—"

His laughter rings, body covering your own before he slides in your warm, wet cunny. Blasphemy spills his tongue as a softened sigh leaves you. Though he is not lengthy, his girth stretches, thrilling the nerves up to your throat. The ease is given by your wetness, but he is slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein until you cry softly at your abused pearl rubbing against his body.

"I will not last," he half spits, jaw clenched. "I will have to- I'm sorry but—"

"Do it," you whisper, locking your ankles on his ass as much strength as your legs can allow. "Pound me into the matress."

"Fuck," is the last thing he says before he follows your orders, each hit against your cervix building your own peak. "Pretty wife, darling pearl, the sexiest— fucking—" spills and spits between groans and cries, chasing his high brings your own.

"A-aeg, I—"

He kisses your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he slides a hand between your sweaty bodies, finding your pearl and circling hard. As soon as you're cumming to the high heavens, tightening and twitching, a garbled scream out of your throat— he slams once, twice, as his own high entangles your own, a punctuated moan breaking out of his throat.

His seed spurts, floods, before his cock turns flaccid inside you, and you feel warm and full underneath him.

He presses his forehead against your collarbone. "Maybe we should fight more oft, nectar of my obsession."

"Sure," you say. "I will spend more time with Aemond then."

He punctures a groan as you giggle.

#aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii fluff #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #hotd fluff #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aegon targaryen ii fluff #aegon targaryen ii

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asa-do-your-thing · 10 months ago

Text

Release

18+ MINORS DNI Jacaerys Velaryon x F!Reader 2.6k Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, innocence / corruption kink ig, as always no proofreading no nothing

You always knew that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had a special fondness for you, and as you grew older, his feelings grew stronger. The Queen, his mother, seemed to approve of this and promised your father that a suitable marriage would be arranged. However, she failed to mention that this would only happen once Jacaerys married his cousin, Lady Baela.

Despite thinking of Jace as your closest friend, you came to realize that there were other reasons he wanted you around. He may have been too proper to admit it directly, but something was definitely going on between the two of you. Even during thunderstorms like this one, he couldn't resist reaching out to touch you or offering to hold you close in the dreary castle where you played these games together.

“Jace, I… I am not a child anymore, I don’t think I need to sit in your lap…,” you mumbled, playfully trying to wriggle out of his grasp. “And, Oh! Jace! You’ve such cold hands, I��!”

The sound of the thundering storm outside filled the room as Prince Jacaerys chuckled, his warm breath gently caressing your ear. His arms were like steel bands around you, pulling you closer to him as he settled comfortably in the overstuffed armchair beside the fireplace.

You felt your heart racing in anticipation - not just from fear of the storm but from the electricity that seemed to crackle between you both whenever he got this close.

"Oh come now, my dearest friend," he teased, his voice low and seductive. "You know that sitting on my lap is exactly what you want." His hot breath sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps across your skin as he nuzzled his cheek against yours. "And isn't it better to be warm and safe inside with me than out there, shivering in the cold?"

He held you tighter, almost possessively, and it was impossible not to notice the way his fingers danced along your arms, tracing patterns on your skin that sent delicious chills down your spine. You found yourself squirming under his touch, trying desperately not to let him see how much you enjoyed it. Your heart raced faster when he leaned in closer and whispered against your neck, "I've missed you these past moons." His words sent a wave of heat through you that was only amplified by the gentle breeze from the fireplace fanning against your skin. “King’s Landing is boring without you.”

You blushed and batted your eyelashes, feigning ignorance of the growing pressure under your buttocks. “I missed you too. You've missed the warmth - it was finally warm enough to go swimming. I went with your mother the Queen’s ladies’ maids. But then again… I don’t think you would’ve come with us, for we were all in the thinnest of shifts and they all turned see-through… No, right, you would probably just have trained with your uncle and your brother. What a foolish idea, you, swimming with us…”

There was a brief moment of stillness, and then you had to maintain a neutral expression as Jace moaned quietly into your hair. He placed his hand on your clothed thigh and gave it a squeeze, his arousal evident by the way his hardness twitched. It was amusing to act like an innocent maiden, and it clearly turned him on immensely.

Prince Jacaerys's eyes glinted with mischievous amusement, and he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. "Oh, really? And what were you ladies doing while I was gone?" His hand began to move up your thigh slowly, teasingly tracing patterns on your skin as he waited for your response. You could feel the anticipation building between you both as his fingers grazed closer and closer to the edge of your damp fabric.

"We swam in the warm sea," you replied coyly, trying not to squirm too much under his touch. "The waves were rough and salty, and the sand was warm and comforting. We splashed around and tried to steal each other’s shifts." You let out a momentary giggle, grinning to yourself. It’d been much tamer, of course, but you were playing expertly into his fantasy. You knew there was nothing he wanted as much as to make you his, to corrupt his favorite ‘little Lady’. "It felt so refreshing!"

"Mmm, I bet it did," he purred, and you could practically hear the wicked grin in his voice. His fingers had now reached the top of your thigh-high stocking, his fingertips tracing patterns along your bare skin. Goosebumps erupted across your body as he continued to tease you, inch by agonizing inch. "Tell me more…"

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you continued with the charade, embellishing the details to please him. "Well," you began, slightly breathless, "the sun was so hot that day... and we were all quite flushed from our swim. We laid out on the sand to dry off, letting the breeze dry our damp hair... and... and our shifts." You let out a little gasp as his fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot behind your knee, just where the lace that held up the stocking was, sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh Jace! That tickles!"

The room was heavy with desire now, the only sound between you two becoming the crackling fireplace and the steady patter of rain against the windowpanes.

The tension was palpable as you both danced around what neither of you wanted to admit out loud - that this game had gone on long enough. You decided to finish this slowly, to tease and torture him just a little longer, seeing as you have wrapped him around your finger whilst he thought the same about himself.

“They told me some stories about what their Husbands were doing to, and uh… with them. I could hardly believe what they were saying… I… Oh, I wish I could talk about it with you, but you’re, well, you. It would be improper.”

The look on Jace's face was priceless - a mix of lust, desire, and determination to know more about your imagined trysts. His hand had stilled its ministrations, replaced by a feverish grip on your thigh as he leaned in closer. "Tell me. Please, I want to know."

You bit your lower lip, playing the part of the coy maiden to perfection. "Well, if you insist…" You leaned in closer to him adjusting your seat on his lap, all the while letting your hand sneak behind his neck, gently playing with his locks. "They… they said their husbands were... touching them... there," you said, blushing and pointing to your lower abdomen.

"And that it made them feel... quite nice. But... But I don't understand why that would be pleasant, Jace... They also said that they, when their husbands wished it, opened their mouths wide and did this to… well…," she mumbled and slowly licked her finger. “That sounds… so scandalous. Against walls, in the sea, over tables… In the mouth, in the lady parts and even… buttocks…”

The vulnerability you exuded, the innocence you presented, melted away as you allowed him a glimpse at the cunning woman underneath. You wanted this too, and by the Mother, did you want it now. An involuntary moan escaped your lips.

He growled low in his throat, his breath fanning over your heated skin, and you knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred for him. His hands were no longer playful but demanding as he cupped your bottom cheeks and pulled you closer to him. "And what do you think about that, little one? Do you want to experience such scandalous things? To feel the touch of your Prince?"

Your eyes locked with his as you ran your tongue along your lower lip. "I… I don't know, Your Grace," you purred, grinding slightly against his hardness through your petticoats. "Only you can show me…"

His eyes darkened as he stared into yours before he leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss. His lips were soft yet firm as they moved against yours urgently, desperately, as if he was trying to devour every part of you. His tongue slipped between your lips without waiting for permission and explored every inch of your mouth, tasting you like a man starved of water in the Dornish deserts.

You moaned into the kiss, unable to control yourself any longer. Your hands tangled themselves in his silky black hair as you pressed yourself closer to him seeking more contact between your bodies – desperate for something... more...

"You're such a tease," he murmured in your ear, lifting you up and carrying you to his bed. "I'll show you everything, I've been waiting for this moment for so long."

As he carefully laid you down on the bed, he assured you, "I won't hurt you, my dear. I just..." His words trailed off, mumbled like a drunken confession as he pushed your skirt up and reveled in the sensation of your wetness.

"Gods, I want you so badly." He dropped down onto his knees and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, sloppily kissing your thighs up to your sweetness. “Tell me you’re mine, I want to hear you screaming my name… My perfect little Lady…”

You didn't hesitate in your response. "Yours, Jace. I'm yours and only yours... please... I need you... now..."

He didn't need any more encouragement as he pulled your hiked your skirt, exposing your core to him completely. You gasped as his hot, wet tongue found your bud, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He was as good with his mouth as he was with words, you realized, and you moaned louder, arching your back. This wasn't how Ladies spoke about it in stories, it was so much better... so much more intimate.

"You are so wet for me," Jace murmured between long, languid kisses and licks up your slit, his tongue working its magic as he tasted your arousal. He grinned against your folds, the hungry look in his eyes making him seem even more wicked and dangerous. His fingers found their way into your stockings, tracing up your thighs and teasingly skimming the sensitive skin beneath them, making you gasp and shiver.

"And how do you like this?" he asked, his rough voice sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but whimper in response as he dipped a finger inside you, stretching your tight entrance, filling you with delicious pleasure. "Do you like feeling how wanton you are for me?"

His other hand slid underneath your shift to caress your bare stomach before trailing up to cup one of your breasts. His nails scraped lightly against your sensitive nipple, making you arch into him and made you let out a needy moan.

"Oh yes," he breathed against your skin, "Let me see how much you need me." With that, he pulled back the soft fabric of your chemise to expose one breast completely and took it into his mouth with a growl while his fingers continued to work their way inside of you.

His lips and tongue circled around the sensitive peak while his fingers thrust deeper into you, pushing against that wonderful, aching spot inside.

The sensations were out of this world and increased with each push of his fingers, though every time you came close to your undoing, he stopped what he was doing with a small smirk. “You really think I’m letting you finish so quickly? No, little one, you’ve teased me long enough. It’s my turn now…”

With a final, lingering suck on your nipple, he stood up and undid his trousers. His manhood, long and hard pressed against his trousers, could no longer be hidden. His eyes bored into yours as he removed the last barrier between you two. He positioned himself at your entrance and looked down at you expectantly, "Tell me you want this."

“Yes,” you breathed out, your voice unsteady with desire. “I want you, Jace. I want all of you... inside... now...”

He smiled a devilish grin before he entered you roughly in one go, stopping only momentarily to let you adjust to his size.

"Jace, oh..." You couldn't help but moan out loud as he filled you completely, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. The slight pain quickly dissipated as pleasure took its place. Panting for air, pearls of sweat began to form on your brow as Jace continued to thrust into you relentlessly - slowly at first then picking up speed with every moan that escaped your lips until your bodies were slapping against each other like the waves in the Narrow Sea during a stormy night.

“Mine… Mine, all mine, so perfect, such a beautiful cunny, all mine, so tight I…”, he rambled and held onto both of your shoulders to push himself deeper into you as you folded your legs around his handsome, muscular torso. “Only mine, so beautiful… Fuck, open your mouth, darling,”, he groaned and blushed when you wantonly opened your mouth, letting your tongue hang out. He gathered some spit and let it drip down into your mouth, shuddering at the feeling of your walls tightening around his hard cock.

“Is this what you wanted, Little One? To be used like a whore? A common whore with her legs spread wide for any man who would have her?”

Your hips bucked against his, meeting him thrust for thrust as you rode out the waves of pleasure crashing over you from his words and his cock. “You’re so wet, so slick, just for me… No one else, only me… no one can have this… this tight cunny…”

Tears of pleasure streamed down your face as you neared the precipice, not caring about decorum or anything else but the building fire between your legs. "Yes, Yours… only yours..." you panted, barely able to form a coherent sentence anymore. "Only yours... I want you... to... to... fuck me... make me yours forever... oh Jace...," you whined, clenching your fists and biting down on your lip as you convulsed in pure extasy.

It felt beautifully cruel as Jace continued chasing his high before pulling our at the last second, spraying his hot seed over your stomach and your hitched dress.

His groans of pleasure filled the room as he collapsed onto the bed next to you. His chest heaved, sweat pouring down his bare torso. After a moment, he turned towards you and you were met with a sight that rendered you speechless. His dark eyes shone with a mixture of satisfaction, lust, and something deeper, something tender that sent sparks fluttering in your belly.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his voice rough from the aftermath of his climax. "I was too rough." His hand moved up to trace lazy circles on your inner thigh, making you shiver at the touch. "I promise to be gentler next time," he murmured, his fingers moving higher until they traced the edge of your sore entrance.

He moved closer to you as his other hand cradled your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your lips. He leaned in and planted a light kiss on them. It was so different from the fierce and passionate ones you had shared earlier; this one was soft and gentle like a fleeting promise.

"From now on, I will treat you like a princess," he told you, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "I hope you enjoyed it," he added gingerly. You nodded in response even though there was a sudden lump in your throat that made it difficult for you to get any words out.

"I'm not a princess," you protested weakly.

"Well," he smirked down at you, "you are my princess."

#asas fics #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon #jace strong #jace velaryon #prince jacaerys smut

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tangerinesilk · 2 years ago

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BACK UP PLAN • TANGERINE x FEM!READER

they think you’re the diesel, but you know who took the case. too bad for you that tangerine, a guy from your past, likes to shoot first and ask questions later. as fun as that is, you quickly team up to figure out who took the case and what terrible fate they’ll meet... and of course, rehash your complicated past.

rating ✷ r (18+ only, minors dni!)

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers (but still enemies), pwp, cheeky banter, loud gf/quiet bf, butchered british slang, kind of mr. and mrs. smith energy, two idiots with one task

warnings ✷ cursing, violence being the answer, guns & knives, switch!tan x switch!reader, bathroom sex, fingering, quick p in v, lots of begging, exhibitionism, mention of hands/rings (my kink lmao)

word count ✷ 3.7k

a/n ✷ my first tangerine fic :D just feeding into my fixation and going down the aaron johnson rabbit hole again. wasn't expecting to do some bullet train writing, but..... here it is. there will be no part 2! hope y'all like it and feedback is always welcomed!

Shit was going down and surprisingly, it was not by your doing.

With your back pressed against the wall of the luggage holding, you could only hope the short but thick curtain covered your figure enough that anyone who passed wouldn’t see you. As you attempt to keep your breathing low and quiet, it hitches when you hear the sudden sound of automatic door opening.

“We need to find the cheeky fucker who took our case. Swear to God, I’ll bash his head in when I find him.”

That’s a thick accent you don’t forget. You don’t want to peak, but you can see the West Ham sticker on the back of his phone.

It can’t be him. No, no…

“Lemon, I’ve gone up and down this train for the umpteenth time. I’m ‘bout ready to shoot any sleazy bellend who looks at me funny.”

Tangerine?

He was the only person you’ve been able to outrun yet here he was, only a few inches away and knowing damn well he would know how to tear into you for what happened in Copenhagen. Long story short, it ended with you tossing his favorite gun into the river and it’s made an even bigger target on your back.

While you do wear a mask that seals your identity during your heists, you prayed he didn’t remember eyes since you lost your only form of disguise when fighting the Prince. Just like you, she uses her looks to her gains, able to manipulate anyone by batting her eyelashes. She was the one with the case, and knowing her past, she’d blame it on someone else and you were most likely high up on the list.

“Alright, then. Let’s keep lookin’ for the bastard.” He said before hanging up.

You cover your mouth, your glare remaining steady on him before he takes a pause. His blue eyes search around the cart, huffing until you hear the other automatic door open. You fully step out of the small luggage spot and catching your breath, “I have to get off here.”

As the next stop was coming to a halt, a force pulled you back into the bathroom from an arm snaking around your waist. You couldn’t even gather your thoughts before feeling a cool metal pressing against your temple.

“Now I can only think of two reasons a girl like yourself is hiding behind a bunch of suitcases. One, she’s got a bit of a dickhead of a boyfriend or two, she’s got my fuckin’ case.”

You smirked, “If I had it, I would have hid better, don’t you think?” You hoped to fool him.

“Oh, darling. You think I’m that stupid, why don’t you just–” He turned you around to look into your eyes, and unfortunately, he had seen them somewhere, “Oi, where have I seen you before?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life, now if you’ll excuse me…” You trailed before he shifted to stand in front of the doorway, placing his gun on the sink counter.

“As much as I’d like to believe that, darling... you’re not going’ anywhere until I get my answer.” He said with an assertive tone, his jaw obviously clenched and his eyes piercing blue.

With his one hand on the trim of the sink and the other against the wall, he towered over you with his tall stance. He acted intimidating but you knew deep down there was hidden softness to his personality. ‘Warmer the closer you got’ type of shit.

Your eyes shifted from his eyes to his chest, hard to not stare with his first button undone and gold chain disappearing into his shirt. Able to display a poker face, Tangerine was still racking his brain around where he had seen those eyes before. He couldn’t place the last time he saw such a color.

I guess what you failed to mention is that something else happened in Copenhagen. To summarize, it involved a skin tight dress, a hotel key card and a getaway plan by dawn. What threw him off now was that you weren’t sporting the same short, auburn wig you sported that night you tried to get his attention.

“How am I supposed to give you an answer that I don’t have? You’re in my way.” You protest.

“And you’re not a very good liar, are ya?” He huffed, “Now, if you don’t have my case then who does?”

Not giving a second more, you pulled out your own gun tucked in the waist of your skirt, pushing it against his bare chest, “I think you better stay out of the way before you really get hurt.”

He didn’t bat an eye, but his eyes took a second glance at the tattoos drawn on the side of your middle finger and the top of your knuckles. Suddenly, he placed those hands from memory and the image of them running down his chest struck his mind. He looked back into your eyes and remembered how they kept steady contact as your tongue glided down his body.

“It’s been a while since Copenhagen, yeah?” He said, clenching his jaw once more.

Shit. Maybe you shouldn’t have doubted him so much.

“Well you’re not fooling me this time.” He grunted, quickly taking your gun while your guard was down for a split second, “I’ll give you one last chance, love. Tell me where the case is and maybe, I’ll be and gentleman and just escort you off at the next stop.”

“So cute how you’re trying to threaten me yet use a pet name. Guess I just know how to get to your soft spot, Tan.” You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek.

Mesmerized, a gloss smooths over his eyes before his phone vibrates in his pants pocket.

“Do you wanna get that or have me reach in there?” You taunted.

He replied with an eye roll, but quickly answered. “Yeah, what?” Tangerine answered, his eyebrow cocked.

A low voice told him that they needed to see proof of the case at the next stop or things could go south. Tangerine quickly hangs up during mid-threat, and you twist your lips.

“Since you can’t find your case, I assume you’re the one getting off at the next station.” You smirked, “Glad we got to catch up.”

“No, no, you little pain in my ass. You’re gonna put on a nice smile for these massive dickheads and stall with me…” He tilted his head a bit, “As far as I know, you know where the case is so I’ll be attached by the hip to you for the rest of the lovely ride to Kyoto.” Tangerine yammered on.

You rolled your eyes but he held your chin, making you look him in the eyes, “I’m sorry, does that bother you now?”

“Hmm, no. Just kind of sweet to know you haven’t forgotten about me.” You purposefully teased, your palm running down his chest before opening another button of his shirt with your one hand. It was a tactic to get under his skin, hoping to get some sort of reaction.

“You’re some tease who left me in Copenhagen, I’ve dealt with shots to the fuckin’ chest. You really think highly of yourself, don't ya.” He deflects but glances at your soft lips.

You grinned, placing your hand on his cheek, “I don’t think I have to remind you of how low I’ll stoop to get a job done… or kneel.”

Tangerine felt your hand moving through the back of his hair, carding his loose curls before pressing your foreheads together. The tip of your nose brushed against his, your lips barely touching until the train came to a slow stop.

“Well, I guess it’s time to put on a good fucking act.” You huffed, pulling away and Tangerine didn’t realize he forgot to take a breath.

♡ ♡ ♡

He turned around, opening the bathroom door in one swift motion and the two of you stood by the exit. After quickly texting Lemon that he was going to stall, he gives you a look again– this time, his eyes shifting up and down your body, noticing the tear in your stockings. He knew you were up to something, but resisting the urge to press you up against a wall was making him ache a bit.

As the train door opened, Tangerine took a step toward you, “If anything goes down, you get behind me and get back on. Other than that, follow my lead.”

You nodded, “I have limited options… how generous of you.”

The two of you step off the train, and looking around for the men you’re asked to meet. As passengers got on and off, there was a small group that came your way and you stood next to Tangerine as they got closer.

“Where’s the case?” The tall one asked, standing center of the three other men.

“Lemon is keeping it safe right now.”

“Then who’s this?”

Tangerine glanced at you, shrugging, “I’m a professional, I’ve got my back up… Peach.”

You wanted to narrow your eyes at him with a burning stare, but you maintained your composure to convince them. It was one step closer to getting the case, and it wasn’t the worse operative name.

The four men chuckle at it, and you cross your arms from the reaction, “So, are we done here?” You asked, “We’ve obviously got places to be now since your boss is up our asses about his case.”

At first, they replied with scowls until Tangerine took a step in front of you, your chest basically touching his back.

“‘Cuse her attitude, it’s been a long night.” Tangerine acted as if he were in charge of you, “But, we’re all good now. The plan is still Kyoto, ta-ra now.” He faked a grin, pushing you toward the door as the alert sounded for boarding.

Before you knew it, the train was moving and the both of you plopped into two empty seats in the quiet car. As you watched Tangerine type out a text to Lemon, you scoffed, crossing your arms as you faced the window out to the city life of Japan.

♡ ♡ ♡

“Well, Lemon still hasn’t found the person with the case… fucker could have gotten off without us knowing.”

You turned your head, “So, that’s means I’m off the list of the accused?”

“...I just don’t trust you.” He trailed, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Aw, still a little hurt from our last encounter?” You pouted, “Didn’t take you for such a softie, Tan.”

Tangerine clenched his jaw. He had little patience for your sass, but it was fun to fuck with him. You gently placed your hand on the top of his thigh, hidden under the table, and refused to lose eye contact with him. There were four stops left so, it was time to put a spontaneous plan B into motion: make him let his guard down for you.

You batted your eyelashes, “Tell me, do you still think about our night together? I didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but we had something… yeah?” You taunted him, your hand moving up his thigh. Just as your fingers were going to unbutton his pants, Tangerine quickly grabbed your wrist and put it back on his knee.

“You wanna play games, darling?” He grunted, “Then, I’ll play your game.”

You couldn’t help but admit that your heart beat against your chest, like the air in the cart had been sucked away and before you knew it, his right hand was running up your thigh until he ripped the rest of your stocking. You almost gasped, not wanting to attract attention, but he pulled it enough where your panties were exposed.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love.” Tangerine said under his breath as his hand entering between your legs. Once he pushed the black lace to the side, his two thick fingers entered your slit. The hand you had on his thigh suddenly met the wrist of his hand working your pussy.

His blue eyes softened, feeling how wet you already were and how you tried to restrain from arching your back against the seat. Being in plain light, you bit your bottom lip and concentrated on the scene passing by– obviously, not easy to focus on when Tangerine is gliding his fingers in and out of your wet slit. You could scream, knowing how deep they were from feeling his cool rings against your skin.

“I’d rub your clit, but I’d hate to make you cum right here… in front of everyone.” He looked around, as if he weren’t edging you, “You don’t really deserve to anyways.”

You took one big gulp, your hand gripping the arm rest now and you let him keep going. For as long as he wanted to and however fast he wanted to. As big of a talk you made, you were suddenly puddy in his hands– quite literally– and God, you didn’t want him to stop.

He pressed his lips against your ear, “Are you close?”

“Hmm.” You could barely let out a word, “N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me now so you can cum.” He chuckled.

Just like that, he quickly pulled his hand away and he saw how his fingers were coated in your glistening cum. As he went to place them in his mouth, you pulled his wrist and tasted your own cum on your tongue.

All he could think was, “Fuck, her tongue is soft…” and reminisce the memory of his dick pushing down your throat.

You kissed his fingers before setting his hand back on his lap, and he watched you pant. Such a beautiful mess, he thought again.

Pushing your skirt back down, you crossed your legs as you ran your fingers through your hair. “You fucking ripped my nice tights…” You huffed, pulling the band from the waist and pulling them down your legs. You balled them up as you put your shoes back on, and stuffed them between the wall of the train and the seat.

You blew a breath past your lips, “Alright, that was fun but I gotta go.” You gulped, attempting to get up but he pushed your leg back down so you basically say back down.

“You’re stayin’ right here.” He said, not looking at you but around the cart, “Because the next stop, you’re gettin’ off… not like how you did right now but-”

You cut him off, “What?” You scoffed, your cheeks feeling heated, “No, I’m not getting off this train until I have the case!”

You didn’t mean to spill your own secret, but your guard had been put down. Shit.

He smirked, “See, I knew you had somethin’ to do with the case. Now you’re definitely gettin’ off at the next stop or I’ll-”

Cut off again, he sees Lemon walking down, also without the case in hand, and Tangerine quickly gets up. He met him halfway in the aisle, so you got up to see what was going on and if it was about the case.

“Who’s this? Looks familiar…” Lemon trailed as he pointed at you, then back at Tangerine.

“She’s no one-”

“Actually we passed each other in Copenhagen. You called me an Emily.” You grinned, tilting your head.

“Ah, yes. Emily, very kind but a tad bossy…” Lemon nodded but then narrowed his eyes, “Lookin’ for the case too, yeah?... unless you have it and we’re runnin’ around like headless chickens.” You could see his hand reaching into his jacket.

“I wish. Trust me…” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, and she was just leaving on the next stop. No business being around here, muckin’ about.” Tangerine said without looking at you again, just making eye contact with Lemon.

“You treat me like I’m incompetent yet I beat both your asses back in Copenhagen and managed to steal the getaway car. Why don’t you two leave and let me handle whoever has the case.” You shoved past Tangerine, “Fucking amateurs.” You muttered under your breath.

Lemon turned around, Tangerine behind him, “She’s definitely is an Emily.”

Tangerine rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get take care of her. You check back down that way.” He clenched his jaw, pushing back his rolled sleeves.

♡ ♡ ♡

The door opened to the first class cart, already imagining your hands wrapped around the Prince’s neck once you had an eye on her. Dim orange lights lit your way, a few people asleep with blankets on top of them.

Just as you came close to the lounge toward the end, a hand gripped your wrist. Before asking any questions, your other hand quickly swung down on the other’s wrist, thinking it was the Prince, but you were met with another set of bright eyes.

“Let go of me.” You muttered under your breath, not trying to get anyone’s attention.

Like deja vu, Tangerine pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door. It wasn’t as tight as the other passenger bathroom, but still had little room to move around with two people.

“Do I gotta tell you again?” Tan practically growled.

“You can’t tell me what to do. What do you want from me that you keep cornering me like this?” Your tone matched his.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, and suddenly felt the tension. He couldn’t take his eyes from you, never admitting that he had been thinning about you since Copenhagen, so instead his lips met yours.

You weren’t surprised, but you missed his lips. You bit his bottom lip, your body relaxing as you fell into his arms. Your noses brushed together, foreheads close before you unbuttoned his shirt, your hands meeting his soft skin. It slipped past his toned arms, and he pressed your hips against the sink counter.

As you lifted your leg by his side, he put his hand underneath your knee to keep it high. Tangerine kissed and nipped at your neck after taking your shirt off, tossing it on top of the closed toilet seat. You ran your fingers through his messy curls, gripping them as you shared hungry kisses. His hard pressed against his slacks, rubbing against your inner thigh.

“You’ve got about four minutes, Tan.” You said between kisses, “I don’t know if you’re that fast.”

“You underestimate me, love.” He grunted, “It’s gettin’ a bit old.”

Suddenly, he hiked your skirt and you played along, spreading your legs enough for his body to move between them. He quickly unzipped his pants while his right hand rubbed your wet clit and the left hand against your neck.

You giggled, biting your bottom lip before slipping the tip of his cock into your pussy. You held back your gasp, giggling instead to get a rise out of him, but it just made him squeeze your neck a bit.

“Almost forgot how big you were.” You pouted, but he thrusted inside of you. You audibly gasped, and kissed his thumb pressed against your bottom lip.

At first he was slow-paced, purposefully making you beg for it. He knew your weak spots yet his head fell against your shoulder, a light whimper escaping his throat remembering how tight your cunt was. He held your leg up again, giving him an angle to work with and his cock bottomed out inside your pussy.

“Fuck!” You croaked, “God, you’re so… big. Stretching me out so good, baby.” You whined.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Tan cursed, his hips bucking as your skins slapped together. He was eager to make you cum, shattering in his arms and falling apart like he adored. His hand slapped against your ass cheek, kneading it the closer he got.

You leaned your head back, rolling your eyes back and could see stars, Tangerine practically lifting you off your feet as your walls began to tighten around his hard cock.

“Please… please let me cum.” You begged, your eyes barely open, “I wanna cum. Please.”

“Gotta beg a little more, darling.” He gulped as his pace got faster, not realizing how strong he was, “Keep those pretty eyes lookin’ at me.”

You arched your back, “Ah, please!… I want your fucking cum filling me up. Make me cum all over your cock, baby.” Your pitch elevated, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

He grunted against your shoulder, giving it a small bite before saying, “Cum, cum for me, love.” He lighty gasped but tried to mask it by kissing your shoulder.

Your fingers pulled his messy curls, not able to explain the complete bliss running throughout every vein and nerve in your body. His hand covered your mouth just as yours covered his, muffing your defeated moans when the two of your released inside your pussy.

As you came down from your highs, the two of you let out tired chuckles. His cock was still inside you, feeling your warm walls as he shared one last sloppy kiss.

Your thumb ran across his cheek, “Better than Copenhagen?”

He half-smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Ultimately, you agreed to let them take it from there. It was two more stops, and the train was coming to it’s next destination. You and Tangerine stood by the door, watching it slowly open and your stubbornness was eating you up. Although it was a risk to get off the train, seemed there was more than the two of you looking for the case. If anything, you loss some pay.

“You better get off now.” Tangerine told you, the two of you watching people pass.

You hummed, “I know… hope you can tell me how it goes if we ever meet again.” You sighed, placing your hands on his chest. Your eyes met with his, and he furrowed his brows. You twisted your hips, taking a deep breath before quickly meeting your lips with his again. Tender and slow.

As you pulled your face from his, you nodded, “Bye, Tangerine.”

He expected for you to pass, and he actually thought he was going to miss you.

Instead, you forcefully pushed him out the door and it closed him out from coming back in. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the window as you watched the train pull from the station.

“I really am good.” You smirked.

#bullet train #bullet train x reader #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine fic #tangerine smut #tangerine imagine #tangerine one shot

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wing-ed-thing · 10 months ago

Text

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part I

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Name-Calling, Hitting, Reader Fell First, Yonji Falls Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: Welcome to my current hyperfixation. I guarantee you one hell of a roller coaster. Brace yourselves.

Ichiji had never seen anything like it.

He had gone into Yonji’s room to talk about something, and from the sight of his brother’s moving lips, it was evident that his question was definitely being answered— by a long monologue, no less. But Ichiji couldn’t hear a word, not when you were zipping around the room, thoughtfully, pathetically doting on his brother as if he were a god.

None of this would have been out of the ordinary for Ichiji if your position had been that of royal attendant. A butler, a valet, or even one of the maids would have been more appropriate when it came to fussing over his brother so early in the morning, and even if it had been an entire swarm of regular servants, Ichiji wouldn’t have batted an eye. But now that he considered it, Ichiji hadn’t seen a single valet in Yonji’s entire wing.

In fact, it appeared as though Yonji dismissed all his personal aids in exchange for the company of the royal library attendant.

The library attendant.

Despite being so far from your typical work environment, you seemed less than bothered by the fact that you had assumed an entirely different job than what you were originally hired for. Rather, Ichiji thought you appeared fairly eager to place yourself at Yonji’s disposal. He could practically see glitter in your eyes, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised— in fact, he was a bit disgusted by the fact that a lowly book roach had the nerve to even think about looking at a member of the royal family in such a way— Ichiji couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something.

The library had to have been halfway across the castle, not to mention that Ichiji wasn’t even sure if the library snail was currently docked to either Yonji’s or his own fleet in the first place.

Yonji’s curly eyebrows creased as he gestured toward himself, continuing to talk— Ichiji still didn’t know what about. Yonji flexed the bare muscles on his bulky arms proudly.

You held up two nearly identical shirts on two hangers to Yonji’s left, one a bit higher than the other.

The only real difference between the two was the buttons. The one in your right hand sported large, clear buttons, while the one you held slightly higher had smaller, opaque buttons. Yonji barely spared you a moment of his attention, his eyes flickering to the white shirt with the opaque buttons. His glance communicated enough, and you swiftly placed the rejected shirt back into his ornate, hand-carved wardrobe.

The two of you had done this routine before.

Yonji made the shallowest efforts as you swooped in behind him, carefully pulling the fabric over his arms until it draped lightly over his shoulders and chest. He placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, completely ignoring you as you maneuvered in front of him to begin buttoning his shirt. Yonji spoke over your head as you tucked it into his waistband.

“Hey!” Yonji’s aggravated growl snapped Ichiji from his trance. Yonji had you by the sleeve, just about tearing your uniform off your shoulder as his nose contorted in a deep snarl. “Where the hell did you put my raid suit?”

“It’s right here, Prince Yonji!” You held up the canister like a precious treasure, eyes glinting at the number marked prominently on the side. Ichiji couldn’t recall ever seeing someone so enthralled by servants' work.

Yonji scoffed, heaving you forward by the corner of your uniform before pushing you back with double the force. He roughly snatched the canister from your hands before he turned to make his way toward the doors.

“C’mon,” Yonji knocked a hand against Ichiji’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look at that new tech you were tellin’ me about.”

“Right.” Ichiji nodded, the slightest bit heated that he had been made to forget why he’d visited his brother in the first place. He stood from the plush couch in the middle of the room to follow Yonji.

“Goodbye, Your Majesties! It has been an honor to serve you today.” Neither brother turned back as you bowed at the waist. The heavy doors closed behind the two, leaving you alone to tend to your chores.

Ichiji considered the closed entrance for a beat before joining Yonji, who strutted down the plush carpet of the hall with an elevated cockiness. Ichiji gave him a once over, studying him with acute curiosity before averting his attention to the view of the sea outside the passing windows.

“Does the library attendant dress you every morning?” he asked. Yonji let out an obnoxious, bellowing laugh.

“Yeah! And the best part is I didn’t even have to ask!” Yonji cackled in his usual boyish rasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning forward slightly to narrow his eyes mischievously at Ichiji. “What? You like my new personal attendant?”

Yonji laughed again as the two stepped into a winding stairwell. The sound resounded upward, bouncing off the stone walls. He squared his shoulders back, a wide, self-satisfied smirk plastered to his lips. Ichiji hummed, trying to decide how invested he was.

“Retaining a valet or two like Niji and me would be more logical. Perhaps a few chambermaids instead of some creepy roach,” Ichiji frowned. “Your taste in toys has always been… unique.”

“What can I say? I can never get sick of that stupid, wide-eyed face!” Yonji snickered behind closed teeth, tugging absentmindedly on the loose collar of his shirt. Neither he nor Ichiji spared a second glance at the soldiers who greeted them as they made their way across the courtyard. “I could kick it and still get an offer to shine my boots. A proper servant should consider it a privilege to serve.”

Yonji continued to hiss, and Ichiji hummed again. He had grown tired of the subject, but Ichiji couldn’t help but consider that there was something about your dynamic that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

“All this excitement over a little attention from a servant,” Ichiji muttered.

Yonji’s self-assured smirk wavered as his pace slowed. He fell just short of Ichiji, who continued ahead. Yonji’s brows wrinkled in disgust, and his lips quickly contorted into a disdainful scowl. He huffed, turning his nose to the side, before widening his strikes to catch up with his older brother.

“I’m being treated the way royalty outta,” Yonji spat. He hardly noticed how the doors to their destination opened in their presence. “What does it matter if I get a laugh out of breaking this one, too?”

Ichiji didn’t humor him with a response. The two brothers disappeared into the building, both finally tired from talking about you.

***

“Oh my god!” a cleaning woman gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth as she gaped in horror at the sight just outside the window. A crowd of other house servants gathered around her, all careening to look down at the training grounds below. They muttered to themselves in panicked horror, causing more staff to drift from the hall and into the storage room to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the ground below.

On one side of the yard stood all three Vinsmoke brothers, each donning their respective raid suits as they talked amongst each other. However, the Vinsmoke princes were the last thing the hoard of staff pressed up against the four medium-sized windows appeared concerned with.

You stood directly in the middle of the opposite end of the training ground. Three large books were stacked on top of your head, and a basket of crisp, green apples was in your hands. You wabbled, teetering slightly as you tried to balance the books. Perhaps you could have if there were fewer of them or maybe if the princes hadn’t chosen an encyclopedia each.

All the upstairs staff could do was watch as Yonji sauntered over to you and plucked an apple from your basket. He placed it on top of the stack of books, tongue poking out from his lips as he rotated the fruit on top of the book cover until the orientation was to his liking.

“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” Yonji sniggered. As if he were studying a piece of art, he peered at you tauntingly with one eye closed through a box shape he made with his fingers. He chuckled again, pivoting to retreat to the other side of the training ground. Ichiji and Niji were already waiting for him, sinister smirks contorting their faces to reveal sharp incisors.

“Oh my god, I can’t look! I can’t watch someone’s head get blown off!” one of the upstairs maids turned from the window to push through the hoard of gathered servants. Her spot was quickly filled in.

“I wonder what brought on such a brutal punishment,” a laundryman remarked to a pantrygirl. The gathering of servants shifted around to accommodate the new bodies that gathered. “Does anyone know what happened?”

Cosette had just appeared at the end of the hall as the group's muttering grew louder. Unlike many other servants who gathered around the windows, Cosette had actual work to do in the kitchen storage closet. Still, it hardly took a moment of her standing in the doorway to realize something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” she asked a scullion, a wave of dread washing over her like a bucket of cold water.

“The princes have someone down there that they’re using for target practice,” he answered, gesturing to the top of his head. The scullion ushered her forward, allowing Cosette to slide in at the edge of the very last window. She squinted at the sight below before gasping in horror at the sight of it all.

The books, the apple on top, and the giant basket of more shiny green apples that you gripped in your hands.

And on the other side of the yard, Yonji was winding up.

“Who is that?” Cosette gasped in mortification. Your form looked more than familiar, but Cosette couldn't see your face from the angle she was looking. In a moment of realization, her eyes widened. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Someone said it was the library attendant,” another servant answered, and Cosette ran into the same question that every other servant in the room considered upon hearing that information.

What business did the princes have with the library attendant?

Tormenting the staff, especially over the slightest perceived infractions, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility when it came to the Vinsmokes. However, given that your post was strictly the library, and nowhere else, none of the gathered staff could fathom a scenario in which the custodian of the library would even have to make contact with any of the princes—let alone all three. None of them ever held any interest in books, after all.

Other than Judge, the other Vinsmokes assumed interests that they deemed more valuable than Germa’s extensive archive. Not to mention that all scientific notes and heavily referenced texts on technical information were kept in their own room near the central laboratory. On rare occasions when a member of the royal family wanted to seek knowledge that would enhance their combat abilities, they would have a servant deliver a text, no matter where it was stored.

The books you maintained comprised a vast collection of lesser-used texts. From general encyclopedias to old records and files to more niche topics, most of your domain was compiled during the days that Judge was strictly a man of science and included the extensive accumulation of the late queen. It was primarily due to record-keeping reasons— and perhaps sentimentality— that the Germa Kingdom kept a library attendant at all.

If your head were about to roll with those chances, the rest of the staff would have no hope.

“You better hold still!” Yonji warned. The motor in his gauntlet whirred to life.

You stared straight ahead with your back erect and your muscles as halted as your untrained body could muster. Your teetering from before had subsided, and while you continued to shake slightly from effort, Yonji couldn’t help but consider that you didn’t look nearly terrified enough. And as you stared directly into his dark irises with your stupidly eager gaze, Yonji decided that he’d give you something to be afraid of for once.

His winch whipped out of his forearm, the metal wire extending many times the length of his own body as he swung his weapon clockwise in a swiping motion. It barreled towards your head at lightning speed. The horrified screams from the gathered servants above were drowned out by the thundering boom that exploded as Yonji’s winch crashed into the castle wall to your far left.

And for just a moment, before the windows in front of the servants broke and the castle violently trembled, Yonji's winch swiped away the second book on your head. The green apple and the book it sat on fell neatly onto the text directly on your hair before you were blasted into the dirt.

You tumbled across the training ground as the castle wall dented, the accouterments on your head leaving a trail to mark where you stood. The basket of apples had tumbled to the ground, causing the fruits to roll across the field. The three princes bellowed with laughter as Yonji recalled his weapon.

“I told ya that you better hold still!” he sneered.

The dust cleared, revealing your overpowered body in the dirt. You lay motionless.

“I think your new toy’s broken!” Niji howled.

Yonji’s brow creased in disapproval, taking in the sight of pages and apples strewn across the yard. He glanced around wildly, an undetectable hesitancy stalling him where he stood.

“Hey!” He stormed forward, jaw clenched as he kicked a few fruits across the lawn. “Hey! What the hell did I tell you? You better get your ass up!”

You propped yourself up weakly, barely mustering the strength. Yonji’s eyes bored into the back of your head as you tried to pick yourself up. His impatience trumped your efforts as he wasted no time in grabbing you and hauling you to your feet roughly. He shook you with barely restrained rage.

“You got the nerve to disobey me, huh?” Yonji jerked you violently, his grip around your bicep punishing.

Your head snapped back, and only then did Yonji notice the water pooling in your eyes. The glossiness clouding your pretty irises was enough to redirect his rage into a wide, toothy grin. Self-satisfied, he let you drop to your knees.

“Prince Yonji!—” you cried out just as he turned to walk away.

His earlier annoyance had just about melted instantly, and in its place came a righteous sense of power and control. Yonji had allowed you to fawn all over him for long enough now, and now that he had broken you, your novelty had worn off. He sighed to himself, letting his eyes close as you slowly stood somewhere behind him. It was time to find something new to play with.

—“That was awesome!”

Yonji’s eyes snapped open, and without thinking, he pivoted on his heel to face you. The tears that he saw in your eyes were present, but the look on your face was nowhere near the expression of terror that he anticipated. Instead, you looked up at him with pure admiration and a dumb smile on your lips. The complete subversion of his expectations left him at nothing less than a loss as he couldn’t help but stare while you blabbered on about how amazing you thought he was.

—“considering the width of the cable, the damage amounted to a force of equal magnitude to your highness’s strike—!”

Yonji shook his head as if the physical motion would reset his thoughts. His hand came up to his forehead as he cringed into his glove. And with a motion of dismissal, Yonji turned away from you once again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just pick all this stuff up…” You didn’t need to be told twice. You grabbed your basket, ready to chase all the apples around the training ground.

Just as you were about to reach for your first one, Niji kicked it into a nearby shrub.

“On your hands and knees. You can collect these with your mouth,” Niji taunted. He toyed with another one under his shoe, and lining it up with the side of his boot, he kicked it up into the air and right into the side of your head. “Fetch, doggie.”

“You better pick ‘em up quickly and get those books back on your head, library roach,” Ichiji gruffed. His red light energy glinted, sparking threateningly around his form. “We’re not done with you yet.”

***

Yonji eventually sent you to the medical ward. Although he immensely enjoyed looking at the nasty scapes and bruises that marred your skin, he considered the dirt and blood unsightly. So, when the Vinsmoke family was to be having dinner, you were given strict instructions to make yourself presentable and bring an extra helping of dessert back to Yonji’s quarters.

By the time you arrived, the kitchen was just beginning to wind down, having already presented the royal family with their courses. Cosette nearly jumped when she spotted you just inside the kitchen’s entrance, sputtering out a few more directions to her staff before making a beeline to you. Despite your refreshed uniform, Cosette’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tech bandages that littered your body.

“Oh my god, you’re alive! Are you okay?” She ran up to you, placing her hands on your cheeks to inspect your head. (Your face was miraculously devoid of damage.) Having seen most of what you had gone through today, her question was clearly rhetorical: “Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You took Cosette’s hands in your own. With the library always being so far away from the main parts of the castle and Cosette’s promotion to head chef, the two of you hardly saw each other anymore. And after what she had witnessed just a few hours prior, she worried about what had happened during the time and distance you had been apart.

“Prince Yonji sent me to bring back dessert,” you answered, returning your attention to Cosette’s widened eyes. “Do you happen to have any cake?”

Cosette couldn’t help but recoil, hands hovering hesitantly between you. A cleaning boy passed through the tight space where you and Cosette stood. She pulled you out of the way as dirty water from a dish splashed the floor.

She opened her mouth to address the servant, but your question blocked out any focus she had on kitchen affairs. Cosette blinked a few times as if your words would make sense. Your name crawled from her lips in confusion and concern.

“What happened to the library?” she opted to ask. The crease in her forehead deepened with distress. She ran a hand down her face to center herself, but a bulky chef carrying the compost bag began to shimmy past the two of you. You pulled her out of the way, and both of you pressed yourselves flat against the wall as the chef passed. Cosette grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. “Save that thought!”

She determinedly nodded, pulling you through the kitchen and into the pantry. Cosette tugged the light on before closing the door behind the two of you. Your name left her mouth again in a frantic hiss.

“What is going on? Everyone was saying you were being punished for something. Everyone was watching because Madame Thénardier spied you from the third-story storage closet, and everyone thought you were about to die—!” She waved her hands frantically, pacing herself in a circle. —“And I told everyone to leave once I learned it was you—” Cosette curtly gestured in the air. —“But then Master Yonji hit the castle, and the glass was everywhere—!” You moved in front of her before she could hit her head on a bundle of carrots.

“Cosette,” you stressed, and she stopped for a moment. But only for a moment. You grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I am more than alright. I still work at the library.” You offered her a single, soft nod, but her shoulders remained tense under your grasp. “But Prince Yonji needs me sometimes, that’s all.”

You glanced off sheepishly at a bag of potatoes.

“He needs you…” Cosette glanced you up and down. You nodded adamantly.

Cosette heaved a heavy sigh, drifting away from what you intended as a reassuring touch. She sat herself on a barrel of flour, both arms wrapped around the knees she pulled up to her chest. She puffed out her cheeks, not entirely eager to listen as her back slouched.

“I don’t doubt that, but…” She nodded a few times in punctuation.

The door to the pantry opened. A cook with a pile of boxes quickly turned back around at the frantic wave of Cosette’s hand, letting the door shut again. She met your gaze, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t doubt that, but you almost got your head blown off today… I worry about you… I don’t know if you realize how scary today was.” Cosette trailed off, letting her feet fall back to the floor. She thought, zoning out on a random tile past your knees. “Getting so close to a person who doesn’t have a heart… it’s dangerous.”

The pantry went quiet.

Noise continued outside. Pots clanged together. Water ran from faucets. The kitchen staff called out to each other; their voices muffled through the door.

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Thank you,” you started. “For being so concerned about me. You’ve always been a great friend.”

Cosette didn’t answer you, and silence overtook the pantry once again, and the kitchen noise continued.

She wasn’t convinced about your safety in the slightest.

And with this talk about the Vinsmoke prince needing you, Cosette wasn’t even convinced that your own words convinced you.

She remained quiet, at a loss for what to say or even think about the whole bizarre situation.

“I think he really likes me.” You smiled at your shoes.

Cosette most definitely didn’t know what to say to that.

Her shoulders deflated. She toyed with the end of her apron as she quietly considered you. You leaned against one of the shelves, admiring a basket of green peas with a quiet giddiness.

“I think…” she pursed her lips, following your line of sight to the basket. “I think that perhaps his Highness likes the idea of you liking the idea of him liking you.” Cosette squinted her eyes, facing a random direction, as she lowered her hand in a slicing motion on her opposite palm.

“You think he knows?” Your eyes widened at the prospect. You bolted up from where you were leaning, slamming the top of your head against the shelf above. “Ow!” You covered the sore spot with your hand. And as you were rubbing away the acute pain, you missed the softness that spread over Cosette’s gentle features.

She quietly rose from her barrel and took your arm in hers.

“Come now,” she sighed, opening the pantry door. “Let’s get that cake the prince was asking for. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

***

You beat Yonji to his quarters, although it was probably for the best that you didn’t arrive after him.

You shut the doors quietly behind you with your shoe, taking in the eerie stillness of his room. It always felt odd being there without Yonji, and anticipating his presence left you with a nervous, looming feeling—like you weren’t supposed to be there. And, at least according to your job description, you weren’t.

Most of the room was just how you left it. Yonji’s king bed sat opposite the door, with the headboard positioned in the middle of the wall. The microfiber sheets were neatly made just as you left them, and the pillows remained perfectly fluffed.

All surfaces were clear and freshly dusted except for the circular table in the corner of the room near the door. Two large sake cups sat empty; condensation from earlier had already stained the wooden finish. You spotted the sake bottle on the floor.

You stepped down into the lowered lounge area to collect it and the cups. The two curved, leather couches were usually riddled with personal items, tools, and technical parts—which you were never to touch—but a space next to the table had been conveniently cleared off.

You could only assume that the princes had been in Yonji’s room while you were in the medical ward. You wondered if you would be punished for your absence later.

The holo-screen glowed in the corner, and a large, detailed map of Germa’s next assignment was displayed and annotated with green and blue markers.

You stared at the depiction of the sparsely populated city, placing the bottle with the cups on the table. In your other hand, you held the covered plate with Yonji’s cake. The green marker, a more neon color than the matte blue marker, depicted a series of vectors of the same size in various sections of the city, each ending with an “X” symbol. Meanwhile, the blue markings were dotted lines and small, boxed-in buildings. The trail ended at the coast.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and with it, the cake almost toppled over as you turned to face Yonji. You had expected him to tease you, but he stood silently with his hands in his pockets. His expression was not one you usually saw. Yonji gazed at the holo-map, face grave.

“I can’t say I’m a fan,” Yonji grumbled. His eyes flickered to yours, locking you into an intense stare with a frown. “But you know, now that you’ve seen this—” He pointed a finger at the map, tilting his head to the side. —“I’m gonna have to kill you.” His face contorted into a wolfish grin.

“Oh, I see.” You glanced back at the annotations, unfazed by how Yonji’s nose scrunched up in amusement. He prowled around the upper level, approaching the two steps down into the lowered corner lounge.

“Mission information is confidential.” Yonji placed his hands in his pockets. He stood directly behind you, the minor elevation allowing him to more than dwarf your form as he quietly blocked your only exit. “For the eyes of Germa 66 only.”

“The arrows,” the words slipped out of your mouth. “They’re the radius of your winch.” You had most definitely meant it as a question, but the observation came out with more certainly than you anticipated.

You turned your head for confirmation. Yonji’s chin jutted slightly back in acute surprise, his curly brows knitting together as he sneered. You stared at him silently, waiting for an answer, but Yonji only continued to look at you disapprovingly.

“The arrows are the radius of Your Highness’s weapon,” you corrected (as if that was the issue).

Yonji’s scowl deepened as he snatched the bottle of sake from the wooden table. Unexpectedly, there was still some left. He flicked off the cap, shook his head a few times, and took a swig.

“Yeah? So?” Yonji circled the upper level, eyeing you closely as you stepped closer to the map.

There were several levels to the city upon closer inspection. The entire diagram rotated upon your approach, revealing a multi-layered, three-dimensional diagram. The markings followed, remaining proportional despite the new angles.

“Is this Speleothem?” you wondered aloud. Yonji took another swig of his bottle somewhere behind you.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding distant. You hadn’t noticed. “You been?”

“I’ve only read about it in books.” You reached out to touch the hologram.

The motion sent it into a tizzy, the diagram spinning erratically, causing you to step back. But once the image settled, it revealed an entire blueprint of the island with the green and blue markings still trapped inside.

Speleothem was a nation comprised of a single, large mountain. Uninhabitable on the outside, the people who lived on the island dedicated generations to carving out the dense rock, leaving a vast network of tunnels on the inside and an extremely rocky coast in the surrounding waters. But most critically, at least to Germa, were its five small entrances.

Two canals passed through the island's base, intercrossing in the middle to split the system into quarters. Just above the water’s intersection, a vertical tunnel had been dug straight through the peak of the mountain to let in natural sunlight.

You could see the problem. None accommodated the circumference of Yonji’s winch, and the tunnel system was far too narrow to support his typical brute-force attacks without collapsing a massive sector of the island. You wondered why he was concerned with being careful in the first place, too lost in your thoughts to remember where you were.

Yonji swiped the cake platter from your hands. You stiffened as you were rudely snapped from your daze. Yonji laughed at you that time. He turned on his heel, flicking the top off of the container. It clattered to the floor where the sake bottle— now empty— sat once again.

“The hell are you still doing here?” he chewed. Yonji pushed past you, shoulder-checking you on his way back up the two stairs into the center of the bedroom. The fork that Cosette included already had a second bite of cake on it.

“I thought you needed to kill me.”

“Not worth my effort,” he announced, mouth still full as he waved a now clean fork behind his head at you. “And I don’t want your corpse making a mess of my room when I have shit to do in the morning.”

Yonji plopped down on a different pair of couches in the middle of the room. The two ornate fixtures boasted intricate designs and velvet seating, both flanking an equally intricate coffee table in the middle, on which Yonji kicked his feet up. The set appeared to be a part of the same collection as his wardrobe, and the craftsmanship was a stark difference from the technologically sleek appearance of the furniture in the lower corner lounge.

The back of his head faced you as he took an oversized bite of his extra dessert.

You were sure his ignorance of you was your cue to leave.

You picked the serving lid up off the floor and held it upside down. As quietly as possible, you placed the empty sake bottle and the two cups into it. Yonji didn’t spare you even a glance as you quietly made for the door, unamused by you at the current moment.

With the apparent raid on Speleothem the next day, he was either very tired or in an extremely good mood. Whatever the case, you knew better than to mess with it. You pressed down the push button at the top of the knob, holding it there as you hesitated.

You should really leave.

You should really leave and take the dishes straight to the kitchen before turning in for the night.

Ruining Yonji’s fortunate mood and continuing to talk out of term? What a surefire way to get yourself—

“Speleothem uses a water system. That’s how they’re able to keep the tunnels together and carve out more.” Your voice cut through the air. The scraping of Yonji’s fork against his plate died in an instant. You cringed, letting your eyes squeeze closed as you braced yourself. No strike ever came.

You slowly turned around, hugging your makeshift basket close to your chest. Yonji had an elbow over the back of the couch. His face was nothing less than unreadable as he studied you.

“They have ventilation tunnels that the water gets pumped through, and if those were to be disrupted, I’m sure you—someone—could cause massive structural damage without collapsing the system on something important below.” The words tumbled out of your lips faster than you could stop them, if not for the sheer purpose of filling the uncomfortable silence in the room.

You could feel his stare boring into you, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Out of all the Vinsmoke princes, Yonji wasn’t the strictest when it came to meeting his eye, but it didn’t feel like the appropriate moment to test his generosity.

He spoke your name, and it sent a shiver through your core. All your better instincts were as on edge as the hairs on your arms, afraid of the powerful man sitting before you. But in a match-up of pure will and power, the fluttering in your chest swiftly outweighed your senses.

“Yes, Prince Yonji?” You bowed your head. He liked being reminded of his royal status.

There was another beat of silence.

“Get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

***

Speleothem was an eyesore. Just a large rock in the ocean surrounded by smaller rocks, Yonji couldn’t say he was particularly pleased about his assignment on an island so dull and fragile. Reiju had, after all, been the one initially assigned to the assassination, but since she had been called for another assignment, Yonji was the one to take her place.

The entire mission had been too covert for his liking. Unlike his sister, Yonji didn’t have much in his arsenal to cover a large area without compromising the structural integrity of the entire Goddam island. Unfortunately for him, Speleothem needed to be (mostly) intact.

Yonji couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he fought off another security grunt with a strong uppercut. The sturdy exoskeleton clattered to the side, his compilation of fallen enemies beginning to make a pile around him. A series of high-pitched scraping noises and clicking sounded from just down the tunnel. Yonji ran the back of his gloved hand over his forehead. He despised that he was already working up a sweat, but they just kept coming.

He ventured down into the main sector to meet the battalion coming his way. Due to the narrow passageways, the footsoldiers practically charged at him in a single file line. Yonji made short work of each one, critically denting their outer armor with each swing of his enhanced fists, but no matter how many times he swung or how many guards fell, more seemed to replace their fallen comrades at a rapid pace.

The number of troops in front of him didn’t appear to dwindle. By the third round of reinforcements, the dark smirk Yonji typically had during battle had disappeared. He huffed to himself quietly, occasional grunts of effort being the only noise to break the steady rhythm of communication clicks and insect-like scraping.

When another battalion of guards began to make their way down the tunnel from the opposite end, Yonji was officially annoyed. Even using a fraction of his skills, Yonji could have made short work of the entire section of the island, and he knew it. And if the mission took place at any other location, he could have. Instead, he’d have to play glorified punching bag until Niji gave the signal.

In the midst of the chaos, Yonji’s eyes flickered up to the tunnel’s ceiling. He had been able to hear the sound of rushing water since the moment he entered.

One of the footsoldiers tackled Yonji from behind, digging his sharp mandibles into Yonji’s shoulder. Yonji moved on instinct, punching up into the ceiling and letting the flood of water wash out the tunnel.

But despite a real lack of excitement, the assignment went off without a hitch. By the end of the morning, Niji and Yonji had safely retreated and were ready to report back to Germa’s central sector, leaving Speleothem flooded and leaderless.

“Smart thinking with the ventilation system! I couldn’t’ve strategized a better distraction!” Niji let out a deep chuckle and smacked Yonji hard in the center of his back. “How the hell did you think that one up?”

Yonji trudged forward, ringing some water out of his orange scarf. While he could fly over the flooding in every other tunnel, Yonji’s raid suit was still wet from the first ventilation duct he broke.

“Read about it in a book,” Yonji grumbled as he trudged forward. The bite he endured earlier had caused minor damage, breaking the skin just enough for the wound to be irritated by his damp clothes.

Niji stood behind him, fists on his hips as he let out another hearty laugh.

“You know how to read?”

Yonji hardly heard him, trudging in the direction of his quarters to change into more comfortable clothes.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: He will get better. The soft spot I have for the Germa 66 boys has been absolutely crippling. Alternate names for this fic included "Easy," "Glutton for Punishment," and, of course, "Beauty and the Beast."

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

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