#wine peak lady

[anachronismstellar]

SQH x Wine Peak lord

I would imagine SQH would teach the Wine Peak Lord modern drinking games and it goes from there. (IDK if it will go like the SVSSS extra if you know what I mean.)

HISHSDAUFHUSDHDF not only did SQH taught a modern drinking game, UNO is now canon in the SVSSS lol

AND FUCK YEA BODY SHOTS LET'S GO

A Peak Lady this time! :D Her lovely name was given by @busysavingtheuniverse, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy my wine aunty!!

Omg I'm so sorry it took me this long but *waves at the past weeks*

But to make it better this is ahahahah 13 pages long on my docs. :D

Why I am going a little insane ty for asking

BTW, this one has mild explicit content AND it has two adults getting reaaally drunk before having sex. Everything is consensual, but if that makes you icky, maybe skip this one

Now, on with the fic!

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The room was filled with the scent of incense and tobacco, the lights bright just enough to create an intimate atmosphere. Four people gathered around a low table, the clacking of ivory pieces mixed with their low voices.

And the wine, of course, flowing like a river, making laughter bubble free. They probably shouldn't drink so much, their week packed with meetings and trainings, but if their dear Mu Qingfang himself was indulging, who were they to say no to a bit of fun?

The stones were given to each player, some of them being exchanged back and forth, the match starting with their host setting down the first piece.

And as soon as the game began, so did the gossip.

"Has anyone heard from their disciples yet? Wei-shixiong?" Mu Qingfang asked as he poured wine for all of them while waiting for his turn in the game.

"Not me," he replied as he discarded his stone, cursing right after, trying to take it back, only to get a tap on the wrist by Qi Qingqi sitting on his right.

"Pong. Don't cheat." Qi Qingqi said as she moved her pieces at a speed that would leave anyone dizzy, already displaying a group of three identical stones, her eyes focused on the game, shoulders tense.

"I heard nothing from him as well," Mu Qingfang added along with his own discarded stone, moving way slower than his shijie on his left. "But I don't think he noticed the rumors yet."

"I don't wanna add to the fire," Zhang Qingyan started as she tapped her nails on her pieces, holding her pipe between her teeth to move her own blocks before continuing. "But I heard some An Ding disciples talking about Liu-shidi being the last victim."

"Really?" Mu Qingfang asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought he was scared of Liu-Shixiong?"

"Oh he is!" Wei Qingwei said a bit too excited for someone losing their third round or so. "But I heard that girl, what's her name? The An Ding Head Disciple? Qi-shimei, do you know who I am talking about?"

"Ye Ling."

"That's the one," Wei Qingwei threw another piece at the discarded pile, then sipped his drink. "She said Liu-shidi scared the soul out of Shang-shidi's body, and Shang-shidi grabbed him and threw Liu-shidi on the ground."

"And that would do it, wouldn’t it? Liu-shidi is so odd…" Zhang Qingyan took another smoke from her pipe, then offered it to Qi Qingqi, who just refused with a shake of her head. She had lost the three last matches, and that mixed up with how much wine they had already...

Zhang Qingyan moved a little bit to the side, just in case.

"Who is missing then?"

"Almost half of the peaks, I believe."

"Do you think he's gonna sleep with all the lords?"

"A bit difficult, I mean, Gao-shidi has eyes only for his talismans. And Qi-shijie-" Mu Qingfang said as he took the pipe Qi Qingqi rejected.

"I won't touch men, not even if there's no one else in the world," she said as she put down her stone, glaring at Wei Qingwei.

"Don't look at us like that." Wei Qingwei gave her a wink, laughing at her face of disgust. "You haven't got the full Shang Qinghua experience!"

"It baffles me how he got himself into the bed of so many." She pretended to move her pieces around, just like Zhang Qingyan pretended not to see her take a piece from the discarded pile without the others noticing. "I tried to ask him where he bought his ink, you know the shimmery one? I couldn't open my mouth before he ran away like a scared rabbit."

"And can you blame Shang-Shixiong?" Mu Qingfang chuckled as he put his stone down, a light brush on his cheeks even though he had just a few cups. "Qingqi-shijie talking to a man of her own will is not something common to see. He probably thought you're going to ask for his liver."

"Hunf! I didn't need anything from him anyway." She flipped her hair back, as if she hadn't just confessed wanting to ask Shang-Shixiong a question. "My girls were more than able to gather all the information I needed to buy the ink."

"What I find really intriguing is that so far it has been all peak lords and no lady," Zhang Qingyan said as she poured another cup for Qi Qingqi and then herself, sighing at the taste of plum and spice. "Is he even interested in women?"

"Zhang-shimei, not you too," Qingqiu shook her head in dismay. "You are not considering-"

"The boys keep talking nonstop about him. And as Mu-Shixiong doesn't tell me anything-"

"It's doctor and patient confidentiality!"

"-I'm curious, that's all."

The entire table got dangerously quiet before exploding with noise.

"No, no, no, absolutely not, I have my money on Wu Qingfang being the next one!"

"Please don't indulge this nonsense, they are already insufferable as they are-"

"You should call him for the next game." Mu Qingfang took a sip of his wine, the red on his cheeks spreading down his neck. "He's been dealing with a lot lately, I bet he would enjoy the distraction."

She turned to look at him, eyebrows pulled up in surprise as she slowly let go of her smoke.

"Mu-Shixiong really thinks so?" She tapped her ashes in an empty bowl next to her chair, ignoring Qi-Shijie and Wei-shixiong bickering to focus on her dear doctor. "You-" she paused, glancing at the two other cultivators, certifying they were distracted before taking his hand and gently squeezing it. "You know him better than any of us..." She paused again, their eyes meeting, a heartbeat passing before he gave her a soft smile, glasses a little crooked.

"I know it's been a while since he had good wine." Mu Qingfang squeezed her hand back with a discreet shake of his head. "And if there's anyone I trust to show him a good time would be Zhang-shimei."

She nodded slowly as she clicked her cup against his before taking her sip, the sweetness of the wine tingling on her tongue, making her sigh.

"Besides," Mu Qingfang continued, taking his last piece from the face-down pile. "Shang Qinghua is not that bad. The secret is to hand in his paperwork on time and not ask for any last-minute favors. Then he doesn't care about the rest."

"Hah!" Wei Qingwei exclaimed as he waved one of his pieces at Mu Qingfang's direction, showing its symbol for anyone to see. "It also helps that you like sucking his-"

Smack!

The sound of Qi Qingqi slamming both her hands against the wooden table was loud enough to make them all stop and stare at her bright red face.

"Can we talk about anything else that's not Shang-shidi- Shang- the A-An Ding Peak Lord love life?" And at each stutter, her grip on the table got stronger, to the point of her knuckles going white. "Honestly, you are all worse than my teenage girls!"

They looked at each other before lowering their heads with soft mumbles of "Sorry Shimei" and "Sorry Qi-Shijie." Zhang Qingyan felt bad for her poor Shijie, Wei-Shixiong must have already talked her ear off about Shang-Shixiong if she got to the point of exploding like that.

They went back to focusing on the game, their silence lasting for three more rounds before Wei Qingwei opened his mouth and-

"But how long do you think it will take until he notices his disciples bragging about him fucking Liu-shidi?"

Qi Qingqi grabbed the closer bottle she could reach and took a big swing while Zhang Qingyan patted her shoulder, holding back her laughter.

-------

Shang-Shixiong and Zhang Qingyan had a very... Feeble relationship.

They were both close friends to Mu Qingfang, but they had never actually talked anything substantial outside of small talk.

If anyone asked Zhang Qingyan why, she would say they just hadn't much in common. She liked her wine and spending days and days in her peak, experimenting with all types of tinctures and salts, while he would never stop going on and on about paperwork and numbers, topics she wanted to avoid like demons after she closed her office doors.

She knew he was a good man, Mu-Shixiong wasn't one to praise freely. She just had been under the impression of Shang-Shixiong being a busy bee that cared only for his work, with no time to let his hair down. Literally.

Then came the rumors.

First was a joke that she caught among her disciples, then a bet here and there. Upon a bit of a digging, she found out a very interesting talk among the disciples of all peaks. She didn't believe it at first, and who would?

But then Wei Qingwei told his own story, and added to what she knew Mu-Shixiong and Shang-Shixiong would get up to...

One couldn't ignore all the evidence.

She got curious, of course she did. Did she believe that her invitation for a game of Mahjong would be accepted? Honestly, no.

Was she disappointed when instead of a polite decline she received a confirmation of his presence at their next gathering?

Absolutely not.

"This one would like to apologize to Shang-Shixiong for the absence of the other guests," she said as soon as they sat down on the low table, the set of Mahjong organized over it, ready for a game. "Mu-Shixiong had to cover his head disciple's shift, and Wei-Shixiong is lost in his forge, he said he was about to finish his last masterpiece and couldn't come."

"You mean his masterpiece of this month, right?" He took his wine cup from her hands with a small nod, waiting for her to pour her own drink before taking a sip. "Hoping he doesn't blow up another forge."

"Let's hope not, or he won't escape Qi-shijie's fury this time."

The name made Shang Qinghua tense, a weak laugh escaping his throat while he looked around, as if Qi QIngqi would jump from the curtains at any moment.

"Speaking of her, you said she was invited too...?"

"Oh, she's invited, but with Qi-shijie is always a wild guess,"

They left their talk trickle down as they both sipped their wine. When the silence kept going, Zhang Qingyan put her cup down to get her pipe. If she was going to host, she would have a good smoke.

"Do you want some?" She offered the tobacco. "I also have another wine, if Shixiong prefers something a bit stronger."

"This wine is perfect, thank you," he said as he rushed to take another sip, nodding his head. "But- uh. I wouldn't mind a smoke, actually."

He took his own pipe out of his robes, filling his pipe with fresh tobacco, shoulders dropping as smoke left his lips.

Deciding not to let the conversation die a horrible death, Zhang Qingyan poured more wine to them, hoping for it to loosen up Shang-Shixiong's tongue.

She wanted at least some gossip to tell Wei-Shixiong!

"I'm sad that I've invited Shang-Shixiong all this way for a match and we won't be able to play." Zhang Qingyan said after taking another sip of wine before starting the task of putting the Mahjong pieces away.

He quickly started helping her to put all the pieces in the silk lined box, picking up one or other to admire the hand work. "We could play something else, if you would like," he suggested when they finished putting everything away.

"Oh? What do you suggest?"

He patted his robes until he found a qiankun bag, taking a bundle of paper from it, setting on the top of the table. "Have you ever played Yi?"

She put the box aside, reaching for the papers, letting out a surprised "Huh" when she touched it, not finding it as flexible as she was expecting. And the colors! There were the ones with numbers, but also many drawings, some of them so detailed one could stare at them for hours.

"You've made these?"

"Oh no, no, I'm not an artist. But I know a lady that does some commission work, so all I had to do was describe the cards for her to make."

"They are beautiful..." she whispered while admiring a red phoenix delicately painted to look as if it was curling around the number nine. "How do you play it?"

He delicately took the cards from her hands, setting one of each type on the table, explaining one by one along with the rules of the game. And during the entire time she couldn't help but feel impressed, her polite smile slowly becoming sincere the more he talked. And she could see that Shang-Shixiong was opening up too, his own lips curling up in a smile, eyes crinkling with joy every time she asked a smart question.

"And there are many ways you could bend the rules, some people back in my town would play it as a drinking game."

"A drinking game?" Zhang Qingyan immediately perked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Would Shang-Shixiong want to try going against me? Really?"

He squinted his eyes at her, and she could see him biting the inside of his cheek, as if considering his changes.

"Yes, let's make it a drinking game."

Oh poor dear, he had no idea, had he?

It wasn't his fault, really. Zhang Qingyan wasn't the type to brag, and again, they hadn't spent enough time together for him to know what a terrible mistake he had just made. And before he could go back on his offer she brought a cheaper wine, pouring them both a cup full to the brim, pulling her sleeves up so they wouldn't get in the way of her handling the cards.

Shang Qinghua shuffled, cutting the deck in half and then shuffling again, giving each of them seven cards, picking one from the top of the remaining, a beautiful blue bird with the number 6 next to it settling the first color of their game.

And so it started. 

"Zhang-shimei is a fast learner," he downed his wine in one swallow, without blinking at the strong taste. She could see he wasn't expecting her to get the rules so fast, their first round ending with Zhang Qingyan's victory. "Maybe we should add more drinking rules."

"Shixiong is too kind," she batted her eyelashes at him. "But if you think you can keep up with this one, we could add a cup each time one has to buy two cards or more."

"Deal," he agreed with a smile that was too sharp and too dangerous, a glint in his eyes that made her giggle with anticipation. It was like she could hear Mu-Shixiong's voice laughing with her, poking at her ribs while saying proudly. "Told you he's not bad."

…She could also hear Wei-Shixiong too, a whistle followed by "Careful, Shimei~ you gonna fall for it~"

"I'm not falling for it," she thought as she shook her head while giving all the cards for Shang Qinghua to shuffle again, firmly ignoring the way her heart picked up pace when his warm hands touched hers.

They played another round, and then another, tricking each other as much as the cards themselves tricked them, drying one bottle then two, then four. At some point Shang-Shixiong had let his hair down, and Zhang Qingyan had lost her outer robe, both stacking cards as fast as they could just to see the other fumble, smoke and alcohol making the room spin softly around them.

"I didn't know Shimei was such a good drinker," Shang Qinghua set his card down, laughing as Zhang Qingyan cursed like a demon, picking up two cards before drinking her wine. "I should have proposed that we drank each time one has to buy a card instead of two or more."

"Careful, Shixiong, one could think you were trying to seduce poor little me," she replied with a sweet smile, while curling her hair on her finger.

"Oh shimei, if I were really trying to seduce you, I would suggest body shots," he laughed, then drinking his cup after drawing a card.

"What are body shots?" she couldn't help but ask, glaring at the bright green dragon in the middle of the table, her cards dancing in front of her. She had the card to change colors for a while now, but she could also make him draw four more cards.

Hmmm choices choices...

"Oh, uh," his hesitation made her raise her glance at his red face, surprised at how he had gone from relaxed and cheekey to embarassed in less than seconds. "It's- It's something from my town? But, ah, is a bit-"

"Shixiong," she set her cards turned down at the table, putting her elbows on top of it so she could rest her chin on her hands. "Is it a lewd game?!"

"Oh Heavens," he hid his face between his hands, groaning. "I should not have mentioned it, oh no, this is dangerous-"

"Now I'm even more intrigued," she leaned forward, head slightly tilted down as she looked up at him. "Shixiong wouldn't leave me curious, would he?"

She didn't think it was possible for him to become more red, but at this point he was about to let smoke leak through his ears. He coughed, recomposing himself only to lose it all over again after glancing at her neckline, mumbling a word she couldn't understand.

"I- I could show you?" his voice went up at the end as if he himself was doubting his abilities. But with a deep breath he took the wine bottle and drank a good half of it, setting the porcelain on the table with a sharp nod. "I will show you. But you have to promise not to be angry."

She laughed out of pure surprise, agreeing not to hit or harm him in any way. And the more Shang-Shixiong explained what he was going to do, the more she started questioning herself on why she had never seen him in one of Wei-Shixiong wild parties, or how the quiet peak lord had knowledge of such games.

And that's how she ended up with a cup of wine nested between her robes and her chest, and Shang-Shixiong standing right in front of her, brown eyes blown wide as he held her by her waist. They both moved slowly as if the air had turned into molasses, unsure of where the lines were drawn, Shang Qinghua's heated breath sending shivers down her spine.

It was mesmerizing to watch as Shang Qinghua bit the porcelain and threw his head back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Clear liquid trickled down his chin, making everything messy, and probably it was not as graceful as he wanted it to be, both already drunk as they were. But then he went and licked the cup clean and-

He raised his eyes at her, and it was impossible for her not to hold his face, sinking her hands into his hair. She guided him into a biting kiss, both of them moaning, as his hands slid up and down her body, touching her everywhere as she did her best to get rid of his collared shirt, pulling him even closer by the back of his neck.

If the room had felt hot before, now it was boiling, her red robes hitting the floor right after his leather bracers, her dark lip tint smeared over his mouth and cheek.

Everything tasted salty and sweet, the haze of the wine making her entire skin tingle as he pushed her slowly until he was lying on the wooden floor. She felt as if she were floating under the brushes of his fingertips as he left her chest completely exposed to his gaze, tracing a swirling pattern all the way to her belly.

"There's another way to do a body shot," he said, and the way his voice went deeper with lust, oh Heavens, she might never recover. All of Mu-Shixiong's wildest stories weren’t able to prepare her for the vision that was Shang Qinghua completely disheveled, hair dripping down his shoulders, strong muscles peeking from his half opened shirt. "Shimei would like to learn it?"

She kept nodding while he took the bottle from the table, gasping when he pulled the cork with his teeth. "This might tickle," was the only warning he gave her before pouring wine in her bellybutton. She whined, nails scratching his arms with thin lines of red as he breathed over the cold liquid before sucking. And he drank it all up to the last drop, his tongue dancing on her skin, setting it her on fire, turning her whine into full moans as his mouth went lower and lower and-

"S-Shixiong!" She cried while grasping his hair tight, her back bending until it wasn't touching the floor for a second.

The slurping sound was obscene, it was divine, it was driving her into madness. She couldn't stop making noise, pulling her legs up until her knees were touching his head, begging for more, begging for mercy, begging and begging-

"I must say..." He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, pressing a soft kiss on the side of her knee. "This was much better than any body shot."

She kissed the smugness off his face, doing her best to reverse their positions, biting as she noticed Shang Qinghua was letting her move him around, allowing her to sit on his lap.

He was about to find out two could play that game.

"My turn," she said as she grabbed the bottle, pouring it all over his chest.

----------

She took her time getting dressed, feeling relaxed like she hadn’t in a good while, body sore all in the right places. Her guest had already left for his own peak, but not before making sure she had a good breakfast and some water, hangover tincture ready by her bed. 

And as soon as she could, she set foot to Mu-Shixiong’s peak, asking the first discipline that passed by if the doctor was in his office, not surprised at all by the affirmative answer.

"Mu Qingfang," she didn't slam the door open because that would be beneath her, but her entrance was dramatic anyway, robes fluttering as she rushed to get closer to him, crossing his office in a few steps. 

"What?" he asked as he paused by his examination table, his magnifying glasses perched up on his nose. And it was a testimony of their long friendship that she didn’t even blink at the sight of him bent over what seemed to be a tentacled creature; a scare thin knife in one hand, a pair of tweezers in the other.

“You were right, I was wrong.”

“Well, that’s a first coming from you. What was I right about?”

She took him by his wrist after he set all his instruments aside, making him sit before going through his shelves to get the good wine. Yes, she was still hungover, but she was in the mood for a celebration.

That and the fact that she would collect a big bag later from her disciples was also very nice, but not the point.

“Shang-Shixiong came by yesterday.”

“Oh?” and that was what made him shift his entire focus towards her, fingers intertwined on the top of his desk. “And how was it? Did you guys play Mahjong?” and then he dared to wiggle his eyebrows at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Stop it, I just told you that you were right," she poured him the wine, waiting for him to sip first before tasting it as well. “And I have to admit, I didn't know fingers could move like that. And don't tell Qi-shijie but- his tongue?"

"I know," Mu Qingfang let out a dreamy sign.

"And how long can he hold his breath? I mean-”

"I know," he sighed again, a silly smile on his face. Before, when she was the one on the other side listening to him sing Shang-Shixiong's praises, she would roll her eyes fondly, saying that he was a man in love.

Now? She understood. She completely understood..

The entire time Shang-Shixiong had been the most polite, making sure she was comfortable, taking what he wanted but not taking it for granted. He asked permission in the sweetest ways, teasing her when she failed to use words. And at the end of it all, he had taken time to massage her sore thighs, kissing her feet, treating her like an empress.

It made her heart race but she wasn't a romantic woman. She liked to have fun but relationships? Hah! In a world controlled by men, to become someone's wife would be the same as giving away her power and titles.

Mu Qingfang, on the other hand...

"Are you... Are you alright with all of this? I know how deeply you feel about Shang-Shixiong." She took his hand between hers in a similar gesture all those days ago, searching in his eyes any sign of pain. "Just say the word, and I go after him to give a strong talk."

He laughed, a genuine belly laugh that made her relax her shoulders, the band around her heart releasing a bit.

"This one thanks his Shimei, but she doesn't need to worry. My relationship with Shang-Shixiong is not like that. We love each other, but I know he wasn't meant to have only one lover."

"That's a way to say it," she tsked as she patted his hand again, letting it go to pick on the sleeves of her robes, still a bit out of it from the previous night. "The man is turning the Sect into his personal harem… And I don't think he knows it."

"He has all of us wrapped around his fingers, doesn't he?" And then it was his turn to take her hand, checking her pulse and Qi levels out of habit. "Now, what else did you do last night?"

"Shixiong!"

"What? Is nothing I haven’t seen before, at least from his part. And I’ve told you worse and you know it."

She groaned, caught by his sound argument. She hid her face between her hands, feeling her ears burning up, face almost scarlet as her robes.

“Well?”

She peeked at him between her fingers, pouting. But when he just crossed his arms she knew she would have no escape. "Fine. But first-" she took his cup of wine, drinking it up in a gulp, the burning on her throat matching the burning of her face.

She started talking.

--------

The plan for this was:

They played mahjong cards

They got drunk

Sqh: uhh body shots is uhh a game but is not appropriate to play with decent company Zqy: good think I'm far from decent then ;)

BODY SHOTS

Uhhhhh, as spicy as we can get

And my brain couldn't think of any creative name for their UNO version so I went with the number one in Mandarin aaaaaa

Holy shit y'all I can't believe we are 7/12 already?!?!! sdhfuishdf Send help aaaaaaaaa

aaand next on the line is Beast Peak Lady, Wu Qingfang!

here is the masterpost of all the other achievements

thank you again for this ask and for giving it a read!!! :D

Beast Peak here we gooooo~

[thisfuckingdork]

I had a very stressful April/early May but if nothing else it did at least make me finally understand the beauty that is having a bath over having a shower truly the correct way to watch my stories

[eraenaa]

Virginal Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Prince Aemond sets out to find a whore to warm his bed; he finds a virgin instead. 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Oral Sex (f receiving), Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 3,345

Sequel: Prince's Whore

Strife, suffering, and sorrow are all the Prince now feel— perhaps even then. He could no longer stomach the tolls of the war that was reigning havoc on the lands of Westeros. He sought a moment of reprieve, solace in the arms of a lover that he could take into his bed. Harrenhall was bent to his will; everyone was taken and at his mercy. He had women in his grasp, serving girls and some highborn ladies, even a bastard of House Strong, yet as comely and shapely as they were, none were able to stir the need brewing deep inside him. He could not find the want to take them into his bed and warm his cock.

He was, for a moment, entranced by a witch who held the name Rivers. The sorceress tried to seduce him with her lingering glances and mysterious presence, and he was ready to give in, to take her to his bed, but he had caught her placing her spell upon him. Slipping a vial of an unknown substance into his wine, Aemond could not tolerate such acts. He invited her into his chambers, luring her in with the pretense that he had succumbed to her charms, and as she sank to her knees before him, his cock in her mouth, and he was on the verge of spilling his seed in her throat, he took a dagger and slit her throat— him coming undone as her lifeless body fell and her blood pooled onto the floor. 

That sufficed the need in Aemond for a short moment, but just a few days later, he found himself in want of release again— something that would quench the ache in his loins and the fire in his veins. Not just a mouth around his cock but a cunt as well.

He blended into the night and reached town; slipping into a whore house, he heard a few of the soldiers muttering about. When he entered the establishment, nothing of note came into view. It was the same as any houses of pleasure he had stumbled upon during the night. He was in desperate need of company. Scattered around him were the perfumed bodies that masked the smell of vile scents wafted about the room. His eye searched for something that could possibly sedate his raging cock. 

He peeled away his hood, uncaring that the whores and their patrons could see his silvery locks; surely they have more pleasing matters to attend to rather than his presence. As he announced himself, he was quickly approached by a rather well-dressed man who he supposed was the owner. “My prince, welcome… you honor us with your presence.” He bowed lowly, and Aemond simply scanned his eye about the room once more. Without another word, the owner snapped his finger, and Aemond saw some workers hastily running across the establishment, surely readying themselves for him. 

Aemond was led deeper into the den of depravity and into a secluded room where a bed waited along with a line of whores on their knees, waiting for the prince to take his pick. Aemond still paid no mind to the owner as he tried to sell the girls. Aemond assessed each one of them, presenting him with their seductive gazes and trying to allure them with their smiles, pushing together their breasts in the hope that would press even further desire into the prince. 

He sneered as he almost finished assessing the lines of girls, ready to demand the owner to present him with a new batch, but his gaze was then caught by a cowering figure. Her eyes were planted on the floor, and she had used her long, flowing hair to cover her body, trying to display at least one ounce of modesty. 

Aemond strayed closer to you, his curiosity peaking. When the owner’s gaze noticed the prince had focused on you, he quickly stood by your side, who was kneeling at the end of the line. “A newcomer, my prince,” He said and forcefully yanked the back of your head in order to raise your face so the prince could see your features. “I think you would like her, my prince… the prettiest one we have.” 

Aemond said no word nor made any reaction, only studying the way your lips quivered and your eyes pooled with tears as you tried to avoid his gaze. “If her face does not please you enough, I am inclined to tell you that she is a highborn lady snatched away from her traitorous lord father’s care at the start of the war,” He added in pride. It was most beneficial for his business to have an asset such as yourself. Pretty, filled with youth, and had the blood of nobles coursing through your veins. 

Aemond blinked as he felt his cock strain further into his trousers. You were certainly far from his usual type, but only you had stirred such a need in him that he had not felt in many moons. “And if that still isn’t enough to please you, your highness… I shall as well inform you that she is a virgin. Untouched by any man… but I do warn you that may not be the case in a short while.” The owner heinously laughed. Aemond did not know how to take such facts. He was accustomed to experienced hands bringing him pleasure and comfort… but there was just something in your innocence that he found wholly more appealing. 

He turned to the owner and gave a nod. You breathed sharply as the room quickly emptied out, leaving you alone in the presence of a cruel prince. You were still on your knees, and your gaze quickly panted themselves on the floor once more. Aemond placed his hood by a chair and assessed your trembling frame that still knelt on the cold floor. “What house do you come from?” He questioned and brought a chalice already filled with wine to his lips. He drank two sips from it, but you still have not answered his query. “Speak, girl. Are you a mute?” He questioned, stepping before you. “N— no… my prince,” You say, ever so silently. He reached to grab your face in his hands, his fingers squeezing your soft cheeks together, a horrified expression screaming in your eyes. 

“What traitorous house do you come from?” He almost spat. “House… House C—Celtigar, your Highness,” You almost cried, and Aemond was silently surprised. The blood that coursed through your veins was not from any plain noble house; the blood in your veins was the blood of Old Valyria. “Hm,” Aemond hummed as his fingers that held your cheeks savored the way your soft flesh felt. “And how have they taken you?” He questioned and raised the cup of wine to his lips once more, waiting for your answer. 

“I was to be sent to Essos, but they— they commandeered the ship and slain the captain, and I was— was sold off from one man to another.” You explained, your hands clenching at the sheer fabric they made you wear, the material so thin that it did nothing to hide your body. 

You boldly raised your gaze at the prince, hoping to find at least one speck of empathy in his lone eye, but you paled further as you saw a sinister smirk rise to his lips. How fortunate was Aemond to stumbled to the whorehouse at this moment, having the pick of the litter. An overly pretty, untouched noblewoman is now kneeling before him; the gods seem to take pity on his needing state that had plagued him for moons that had left him restless and irritated. “Stand,” he commanded and finally let go of his hold on your cheeks. Watching as you slowly and wobbly obeyed and stood on your feet. 

He raked his eye upon your body, from your pretty face to the apex of your neck to your breast that hid behind the curtain of your hair. His gaze continued to travel downward from the curves of your hips and waist to your sex that was hidden by a dark shadow and to your plush thighs— as he saw the limbs of lavish flesh, a deeper sense of lust overcame him. He placed the chalice down and stepped closer to you. Aemond’s smirk widened as he heard a whimper leave your lips and your eyes tightly closed as he tore away the sheer fabric they made you wear. 

He threaded closer and brushed away the hair that covered your frame, feeling you shiver beneath his touch as his hand trailed to the small of your waist, then upward to your ample tit, your nipple pebbling beneath his cold and calloused touch. He lowered his head and placed it in the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent that was not riddled with the generic perfume that they bathed the whores with. Compared to them— you were a breath of fresh air. 

You gasped and turned stiff as the prince, without warning, pushed you upon the silk-covered bed. You cowered towards the headboard, petrified at the sinister smirk on the prince’s lip, completely enjoying your fear. “I must admit… I’ve never fucked a virgin before,” He said lowly as he took off his tunic, and you looked away as you felt your cheeks heat. “I’ve always preferred my women to be ones with experience… but there is, I suppose, something appealing in being the one first to taint a maiden— perhaps that is why my brother could smell them from a mile away,” Aemond said, a bit amused as he now realized the reason for his brother’s preference of seeking out virgins to be brought to his bed. 

Aemond undid his trousers, standing bare before you as you curled into a ball at the head of the bed. Aemond relished in your cry for help as he pulled you toward the edge of the bed— thrashing upon his hold. You feel your tears slip from your eyes as the prince spreads your legs, and your cunt is fully exposed before him. You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt his breath fanning your folds, assessing you. Aemond bore witness to the truth that you truly were a virgin, your maidenhead still intact and just waiting for him to be ruined. 

He thought about how to proceed; usually, he would have a maiden on their knees or on her stomach and take her from behind— no tenderness or foreplay, simply taking what he wanted and be done with all the bother. But somehow, your cunt was calling for his lips. He never found the appeal of it, feasting on a cunt that had been used and abused by differing men, sullying himself with the taste of other men on the body of a woman. However, you were untouched, and Aemond indulged himself with an act he was rather more curious about. 

You froze as you felt the prince’s fingers trace along the slit of your cunt, the sensation new and disturbing as no one had ever touched you in such a place before. You felt his hand press your fold together, his eye on every movement you made. Aemond marveled at your cunt, never truly assessing one before— he never thought a cunt could be so… captivating. When he ran his fingers in the middle of your slit again, he chuckled darkly as he felt wetness gathering in them; despite your reluctance and defiance, your cunt was begging to be touched. Aemond’s mouth salivated at the thought. 

A gasp left your lips, and you tried to close your legs as you felt the prince’s tongue replace his finger and lick a clean stripe in the middle of your folds. Aemond could not help but moan at the taste of you, tart and sweet, and he began to wonder if this was how his depravity would begin, with a taste of a virginal whore.

You bit your tongue as you felt his lips latch on the sensitive pearl, his tongue darting out and licking you further, teasing your hole and bringing further wetness. “Stop acting so demure and coy; you enjoy this, do you not, my lady?” He menacingly said against you, refusing to let his lips stray away from the sweet nectar of your womanhood. 

You shook your head and felt your tears fall further, but any denial you do did nothing to stop the arousal dripping from your cunt. Aemond chuckled and used his tongue to tease you further, slipping it into the void of pleasure. 

You finally let out a moan, one that was unexpected, and you felt shame as you found pleasure in such actions. That spurred further determination in the prince, darting his tongue in and out of you, his fingers sinking into your plush thighs as he, too, was overwhelmed by the pleasure of feasting on your cunt. Your sensitive pearl rubbed itself against the high bridge of his nose, your blood alight, your skin glimmering with a thin sheet of sweat, and your body ready to succumb to pleasure. Aemond felt it too, that you were close to what he concluded to be the first climax of your life, your body agitated and uncertain, your moans wry and held fear. He was debating if he should let you come undone now or wait when until his cock was buried deep inside your cunt. He was straying towards the latter, but as the thought of tasting you further infiltrated his mind, the prince obliged you to reach your peak and taste your orgasm. Your uncertain moans turned loud and sure, and your hands instinctively clutched the silver locks of the prince’s hair as you came undone by his tongue. 

Aemond hummed in content, feeling his cock weeping at the taste of you. “I’ve never thought a cunt could taste so delectable,” He mused and planted his weight on his knees, staring down at your bare, flushed body and your face that was still trying to comprehend your first taste of pleasure. 

The prince did not give you much time to grasp what had happened as his rough hands found home on your waist, and his cock was aligned against your dripping entrance. Your pleasured-clad face morphed into one of pain as you felt his length penetrating your undefiled hole. It was mean and sadistic, but Aemond found pleasure in taking away your innocence. He was filled with further satisfaction as he glanced down and saw how his cock was tainted with red, your maidenhead taken by him. 

“What lord will have you now, my lady? Now that you’re the prince’s whore?” He grunted as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, the tip of it brushing a spot he knew all too well. “Are those tears of pain or pleasure?” Aemond taunted as he bent down closer to your face, his fingers brushing away the salty water that spilled from your eyes. “If it is the former, I will try not to take it as an offense. There are worst fates than being my whore, my lady— just ask the girls that served my brother,” He smirked and kissed away your tears, his lips straying further to yours.

He never found much pleasure in the act; he would only sometimes oblige the old madame in his once-favored whorehouse with the act because she seemed quite keen on it, but he never liked the way she tasted on his tongue after. But you, gods, was it too much if he would say that just one taste of you has had him on the verge of addiction?

You took in sharp breaths of pain as the prince thrust into you; he was kind enough to slow down his movements, letting you accustom yourself to his length, but by the second, Aemond was growing impatient. His moves started to move at a faster, almost violent pace, ignoring your cries of pain as he was certain they would soon turn into cries of pleasure. He had never had a cunt as tight as yours before; he had never truly paid enough attention to every fluter, every clench, every movement of the woman he was fucking, but now he could not help but focus on anything that you did underneath him. 

He savored every moan and sigh that left your lips, every line on your furrowed brows, every scratch of your nail on his back as you felt his length rutting inside you. Aemond let out a groan as the moons of need started to overwhelm him. He was close to the peak he desperately sought, but he was genteel enough to coax one out of you first; you were a noble lady; after all, it would be terribly rude of him to leave you need and unsatisfied. 

Aemond straightened his back and felt his cock twitch as he saw the site of you laid before him, your legs on his shoulder, his fingers sinking on your soft thighs, and your tits bouncing at his every thrust. You watched through hazy and pleasured-filled eyes as the prince licked his thumb and placed it flat against your nubbin, and his other hand pressed down on your lower stomach and spurred you further into pleasure. Your lips spewed out his name as you came undone, and the prince was quick to follow you. Filling your cunt with his seed, and finally, Aemond felt relief and satisfaction over him. 

The prince panted heavily as he tried to regain his thoughts; he removed his length from your cunt and felt a lazy grin come to his lips as he saw the essence of both of you spill from your hole. Through your haze, you did not expect the prince to dip down and capture your lips into a kiss once again; tongue sought entrance, and you could not find it in yourself to deny him. 

Both of you panted as your lips parted. You stared into the unique lilac eye of the Targaryen prince and were soon overcome with the implications of what had just happened. Your cheeks further turned red as you avoided his gaze once more, ashamed at how you relished and had enjoyed being defiled by him. 

Aemond smirked and collapsed atop of you, savoring the feel of your intertwined bodies for a moment. You just lay there beneath him, and somehow, that was enough for him. But as he felt your hands wrap around him and your hand went to comb through his hair, he let out a further satisfied sigh at the feeling of comfort he never thought he could find in another. 

It did not take long before Aemond had drifted into slumber. The cacophony of his release, fatigue, and you lulled him into a deep yet quick slumber. When he woke, he found you asleep beath him as well, looking so peaceful with your tear-stained cheeks and plush parted lips. Aemond delicately removed himself from you and silently walked out of the room. 

When you woke, you found a pouch filled with coins by your side and the distant sound of moans and footsteps approaching. You raised the sheet of the bed to cover your naked frame as the curtain was lifted, revealing the silver prince. You stared in confusion as he tossed the dress you wore when you were abducted on the bed. “Get dressed,” You could only stare at him in further confusion, your limbs refusing to move. 

Aemond smirked as the fear returned in your eyes. He was halfway through his return to Harrenhall, but the thought of you haunted him. He finally found the release he sought, and it would be foolish of him to let it wander free. Aemond was a selfish man. He could not oblige the others and let them have a taste of the pleasure that only you could present.  

“Get dressed. I have brought you from your master. You’re all mine now, my lady.” 

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 1

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, mild smut (at the end), threesome 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions. 

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.” 

Silence. 

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention. 

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin. 

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out. 

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair. 

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.” 

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them. 

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.” 

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-” 

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly. 

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home. 

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest. 

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks. 

“How long have we been married?” 

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her. 

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years. 

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

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[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

he would never admit it to anyone, but dick grayson loves it when you get a little jealous. or, rather, he loves making it up to you after the fact.

it’s not unusual for him to be at the receiving end of suggestive remarks and lustful gazes. he doesn’t go out of his way to make it happen, and he never entertains other women’s flirtatious comments, but when your boyfriend looks like that, there’s no avoiding it, really. so when he invites you attend a wayne gala at the gotham museum of antiquities, it takes more than a little self-control for you to stay calm.

three hours in, you’re one “gosh, you’re strong! and those eyes,” away from causing a scene with a glass of red wine. ever-observant, dick squeezes your side softly as he excuses himself from his conversation with another tall socialite, guiding you to the perimeters of the room.

“what’s wrong?” he smirks. asshole. you narrow your eyes at him before looking away, trying not to snap at him. you know it’s not his fault.

“nothing. I’m fine.” lie. he laughs softly and settles his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. he’s going to enjoy this.

“come on, baby,” he pleads. “these ladies are big donors, that’s all. I gotta keep up appearances.” you meet his gaze once again, your lips in a tight line, and his smile widens. “what, are you gonna make me beg for forgiveness?” you say nothing, but you notice a gleam in his eyes that sends heat rushing between your legs. his grip on your hips tightens as he leans in close. “alright, pretty girl. let me make it up to you.”

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“d-dick…” you gasp, trying to keep your voice down. there’s no need, really; the museum’s marble bathroom stall, paired with the string quartet performing at the gala, muffles your moans well enough.

your black gown is bunched around your waist, and dick’s suit jacket lies discarded on the floor, along with your underwear and stilettos. you shakily hold yourself up on the marble sink with one hand, the other wound in dick’s soft, black hair as he kneels between your legs.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he coos, pulling away from your dripping core. you whine at the loss of contact, and dick chuckles at your misery. his lips glisten with your fluids as he trails one of his slender fingers up your inner thigh. “talk to me.”

“keep going,” you breathe, widening your legs involuntarily. “please, dick, god—” you’re cut off by your own moan as he slides two of his fingers inside you. his lips return to your needy clit, sucking hungrily as his other hand snakes around to grope your ass. your legs begin to shake as he speeds up his pace, and his eyes look up to meet yours. you see him smile against your pussy as his fingers hit that spongy spot in your walls, drawing out an incoherent string of profanities with his name woven through them.

seeing you like this drives dick crazy, and he’s unsure if you know it. the way your body responds to him is one of his favourite things, even if sometimes he plays little games to get you where he wants you. the sight of your expensive dress crumpled up around your contracting abdomen has his pupils blown wide. god, you’re so fucking beautiful. his cock strains painfully against his pants, but he ignores the ache in favour of working your pretty pussy the way only he knows how to. besides, he knows you’ll take good care of him later.

you feel the coil in your belly tighten until it starts to snap, your orgasm drawing dangerously close. dick curls his fingers again, coaxing you to the edge. thoughts of the gala unfolding right outside slip from your mind, and your knees buckle as you reach your peak. “dick, fuck, I’m—”

your breath hitches as you cum over his fingers, and you’re grateful his arms are there to keep you standing. his tongue works you through your climax until you’re bucking your hips away from the stimulation. he pulls away from your aching core, gazing at the glistening mess between your thighs with pride.

he rises to meet your eyes and kisses you hotly, your high still on his lips. you clutch at his shoulders, breathing in his scent as you kiss him back. his muscular arms trap you in a tight hug, and his piercing blue eyes crinkle at the corners with the boyish grin that spreads across his face as he takes in your dazed expression.

“so,” he says smugly, gently running his thumb over the corner of your lip where he smudged your lipgloss. “am I forgiven?”

[nebulaafterdark]

Chérie

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader x OC

Summary: Aegon’s wife accompanies him to the pleasure house and returns with a new lady in waiting.

18+ ONLY, MDNI Targcest, Smut, Threesome

“Might I go with you to the pleasure house?”

“I will not go this night.” Aegon assures her, “I will stay with you, my darling.”

“I…wish to see what it is you do there.” Y/N forces the words out.

Aegon grins, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If we share this, we share everything. I will have nothing left, in the absence of you.”

“Then you mustn’t be in my absence.” Y/N presses a kiss to his lips. “I want you all of the time.”

Aegon sighs, “spoiled thing.”

“Take me,” Y/N challenges.

“Very well.” Aegon keeps tight hold of her hand as they sneak out of the castle to the streets of silk. Weaving through the smallfolk as they carry on happily.

He looks back at his wife, taking it all in. Mayhaps you too long for a simpler life.

Y/N tucks herself against his side as they enter the pleasure house.

Aegon whispers. “They will not bite unless you ask them too.”

Y/N huffs a laugh, “might I have some wine?”

“Of course, darling girl. They will bring it to our room.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Aegon nods. “Anything you want.” He pulls back the second to last curtain, revealing a woman with long dark waves. Her back to them, wearing only a purple satin robe. “Chérie.”

She turns to face them, the loveliest woman Y/N has ever seen. “My prince.”

“Might I introduce you to my darling wife-”

“Princess,” the woman bows her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Y/N smiles, “you as well. I can see what keeps my husband coming back. You are very beautiful.”

Chérie cocks her head to the side, “I am sought after for our likeness. You are beautiful, your grace.”

Y/N does not believe her, “you are very kind. Might I have a glass of your wine?”

“As much as you’d like, Princess. What’s mine is yours.” Chérie moves away from the table, toward the center of the room.

Aegon watches as his wife pours herself a cup. “She’s never fucked a woman.”

“We’ve all been there, have we not?” Chérie bumps his shoulder with her own.

“Too right you are.”

“Tell me, my prince, does she taste as good as she looks?”

“Better.” Aegon beams.

Y/N chugs down the wine, turning to Chérie. “Now what?”

“Whatever you’d like, your grace.”

Y/N beckons the other woman closer. Cupping Chérie’s face in her hands and pressing their lips together, testing the waters.

Chérie draws the princess in closer, burying her hands in dark waves, similar to her own.

“May I touch you?” Y/N murmurs against her lips.

“Yes, princess.”

“Call me by my name.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

Aegon makes himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, enjoying the show.

Y/N tugs playfully at the closure of Chérie’s robe, allowing it to fall open and onto the ground. Trailing kisses down her neck and collarbones to her breasts, feeling the weight of them in her hands, before taking the left peak in her mouth.

Chérie’s head falls back. “Might I help you with your dress, Princess? Y/N.” She amends.

“Please,” Y/N nods, turning away from her, allowing nimble fingers to unlace her gown. She’s never been nude with anyone but Aegon, the maesters, or her maids.

Chérie lies open mouthed kisses along her shoulders, feeling her shiver. Gently she comes around to face her. “Would you like more wine?”

“No,” Y/N blinks at her. It is irrational, to fear being perceived by someone who does not love her.

Chérie brushes her lips over Y/N’s, “you are lovely.”

“Best of luck trying to convince her.” Aegon remarks. “She’s grown deaf to my opinion on the matter.”

Y/N looks over Chérie shoulder to her husband. “Why is it you’re still dressed?”

“Because no one has been kind enough to undress me,” Aegon chuckles.

“Come,” Y/N holds a hand out to him. “I will do it.”

Chérie perches herself on the bed, allowing them to carry on. Whispering and giggling as Y/N works Aegon free of his robes.

Y/N trains her gaze on the woman upon the mattress, head cradled against her husband’s shoulder. “I’d like to taste her.”

“Fine by me, my love. This night is for you.”

“May I?” The Princess asks Chérie.

“So long as you’ll let me return the favor.” Chérie replies.

“Aegon,” Y/N calls, sweetly. Dropping to her knees at the bed’s end. “Will you help me?”

He comes to kneel beside her. “There’s no reason to be nervous, my dearest love.” Aegon brushes dark waves from her face and over her shoulders as Chérie lies back; allowing her legs to fall apart. “See how wet she is for you?”

“Yes.”

“Put your pretty mouth just there and show her what you like.” Aegon coos, “then take these fingers,” he moves for her dominant hand, kissing her index and middle digits. “Find the spongy part of her cunt and stroke upward.”

Y/N imitates the motion. “Like this?”

Aegon runs his knuckles over her cheek, “just like that.”

Y/N nods, kissing him one last time before diving in. The woman above her squeals in delight as the princess licks a firm stripe up her slit.

“Good girl,” Aegon murmurs.

Chérie’s hands find Y/N’s hair, massaging her scalp, moaning in earnest as the princess slips a finger inside, then a second. “That feels wonderful, Y/N.”

She tastes of honey and rose water. Y/N understands then, how Aegon could spent hours with his head between her own thighs.

“You should fuck her,” Chérie says to Aegon. “With your cock, or your tongue.” Do something for the divine creature bringing her to the high heavens.

“I would love to fuck her, but I’d hate to distract her when she is doing such a fine job.” Aegon passes a hand over his wife’s hair. “Could you take me in your mouth?”

“Of course, your grace.” Chérie licks her lips, slacking her jaw to accommodate his length. She sucks him with vigor, vocalizing her appreciation for the Princess’s work around his cock. Her peak is met swiftly, as is Aegon’s.

Y/N leans away from her cunt with a triumphant grin. “How was it?”

Chérie’s right arm is slung over her eyes. “Heavenly. Now get up here so I might repay you.”

“My darling wife does like to squirm.” Aegon warns, situating Y/N between his legs with one of hers over each of his, leaving no part of her to the imagination. “I will keep her still for you.”

Y/N sighs, clutching at his forearms.

“Even your cunt is beautiful, your grace.” Chérie slides one finger into her warmth, pumping slowly as her mouth meets her slick.

“Thank you.” Y/N clunks her head back against Aegon’s shoulder. He is right after all, she does like to squirm. The inability to do so is dizzying, especially as Chérie adds a second finger; stroking slow and deep against the sweet spot within her.

“How is that, Princess?” Chérie murmurs.

“Good,” Y/N gasps, writhing as best she can in Aegon’s hold.

“Poor thing, there’s nowhere to go, is there?” Aegon nuzzles the side of her face.

Y/N shifts again, “fuck.” One of her hand reaches back to fist in his hair as the other snakes down to the woman lapping at her.

Chérie hums, taking the princess’s pearl into her mouth and flicking over it with her tongue.

“Please,” Y/N cries, to her or to him. Whoever will listen. The pleasure so blinding it hurts. “Please, please.”

“Please what, my heart?” Aegon chuckles, “use your words.”

Y/N tries again, tears falling over her cheeks. “Please.”

Aegon feels the tense of her muscles, the shortness of her breath, the sound of her cries. “Come undone for us, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” He tightens his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her face to gentle her.

Her peak is white hot, Y/N swears she meets the gods as she crests it.

“Good girl.”

She’s vaguely aware of Aegon’s fingers in her hair as the mattress dips and Chérie sits beside them.

“Sweeter than any wine.”

Aegon reels Chérie in for a kiss, licking into her mouth, tasting his wife on her lips. “She is a delicacy.”

“Indeed.”

When Y/N is lucid enough, she lulls her head to the side, watching intently.

“Are you back with us, darling girl?”

She nods.

Chérie smirks, cupping Y/N’s cheek, kissing her once, then back to Aegon. Taking turns between them, until the Prince’s cock is aching and the Princess is dripping onto the sheets.

“I need to be inside you.” Aegon whispers to his wife, who nods, enthusiastically. He lies back, with Y/N still resting on his chest. “Turn around for me.”

She does as she’s told, straddling his hips and pushing up on her knees.

Chérie is up near Aegon’s pillow, plush bottom lip caught between her teeth as she Princess takes her husband’s length in hand, lining him up with her entrance and sinking down.

Y/N’s pretty mouth hangs out, gasping in tandem with Aegon’s groan.

“Good girl, taking me like you were born for it.”

“I love you.”

Aegon’s expression softens, “as I love you.”

“May I do something for you?” The Princess would hate for their guest to feel cast aside.

“No, but I can.” Aegon grins, “hop up here, on my face.”

Chérie laughs, “you are very kind, your grace.” She hovers over his face for a moment, turned towards his lovely bride.

“Get down here, you awful thing.” Aegon huffs, pulling her cunt down to his waiting mouth.

“Fuck,” Chérie cries.

Aegon grants her no reprieve, lapping at her slick until it coats his face. Free hand squeezing his wife’s hip as she moves over his cock.

Chérie sighs, leaning forward to catch her kiss swollen lips. Swallowing the Princess’s cries and replacing them with her own.

Y/N cups the other woman’s breasts, teasing her nipples with the palm of her hands.

Chérie bucks against Aegon’s tongue, earning her a little love tap from the prince.

“Be good.” He murmurs against her cunt, “or I will stop.”

“Forgive me, your grace.” Chérie pants. “Your wife is so lovely.”

Aegon hums against her, in agreement.

“You are lovely,” Y/N breathes, fucking Aegon faster; harder as the pads of his fingers press into her flesh. “He’s always asking to put his mouth on me, that way.” She motions to Chérie, perched over Aegon’s face as he feasts on her. “Is it nice? Perhaps I should indulge him.”

���It is very nice, your grace.” Chérie leans forward, sucking one of the princess’s nipples into her mouth. “If your husband wants for nothing but your cunt in his face, know that you are well loved. You should very much indulge him, the both of you will be grateful.”

Y/N releases out a high pitched whimper as Aegon thrusts up to meet her, bending his knees for leverage.

She clenches around him like mad, Aegon himself on the precipice of bliss. With the telltale fluttering of his wife’s peak, he redoubles his efforts on Chérie. She comes undone on his tongue.

Y/N continues rocking against him, the warmth of his spend filling her. When she has milked him dry, she rolls off, collapsing onto the mattress. Catching a glimpse of Aegon’s grin as Chérie moves from his face.

It takes only a moment with the Princess resting against his chest for the Prince to find sleep, releasing an ungodly snore.

“Well then,” Y/N laughs, “I hope you don’t mind if we stay a while.”

“As long as you’d like.” Chérie stares up at the ceiling.

“Do you enjoy your work here?”

The woman smirks, “I enjoy you very much, Princess.”

“But…on a whole, do you?”

“The coin is good and the hours are short.“ Chérie lifts a shoulder.

“What did you want to be?” Y/N wonders.

“Your grace?”

“Before you began working here, what did you want to be?”

Chérie sighs, reaching across Aegon to twist a bit of the princess’s hair around her finger. “I can’t recall. Though my mother always hoped I’d be a serving girl to a high born lady.”

“What happened to your mother?” Y/N asks, “if you don’t mind.”

“She has been gone for some years now, since before I was eight and ten. She caught a chill and never recovered.”

“I am very sorry.”

“Tis not your fault, Princess. It happens more often than you’d think.”

“You might be my lady,” Y/N offers, “in waiting.”

“Your grace?”

“If it pleases you.”

Aegon taglist: @niyahnotnia @oh-you-mean-me

[sleepy-fiction]

Like Vampires Do.

Alucard Tepes x vampire!reader NSFW

syn: your lady Erzsebet was killed, so you venture to revenge her death by killing your ex-lover Adrian Tepes. What you fail to consider are old, bitter feelings of unprocessed heartbreak to peak through your scheme. Through the shared regrets of the failures of your relationship, you come face to face to what you're scared of the most. Love and Adrian Tepes. and u fuck like dogs too but that's beside the point

tags: bdsm, knife play, blood play, hate sex, cunnilingus (male receiving), breeding kink, freaky dynamic, reader has a fear of love, alucard has a rejection fear, sadistic reader, mostly bottom alucard

a/n: PROOFREAD. this was a fun post!! love u whimpering men. also I ended up changing the plot while writing, so the intro might be a little jaded, but over all it should smoothly transition to the new plot.

6.8K WORDS

Alucard, now that he is over three hundred, is attractive in the way observing his every move is a treat, but to be physically intertwined with him is a different story. He is attractive in the way blooming flowers are, how they glisten and glow, having their own aura and status. With eyes brimming towards the future, overcome with prowess. Alucard three hundred years ago had most of his humanity still within him, it's easy to see how the two of you could intertwine. But now he's more vampire than he is human, and how do vampires love? Do vampires truly have soft spots for eachother? And is he worth spending the rest of your eternal life with?

These are the questions that run through your mind as your greedy eyes peered out from the shadows of leaves. You were in Paris, brought along by the sounds of revolution, by the death of your lord Drolta and your precious leader, Erzsebet. And also, by the news that spread about the Alucard stationed in Paris.

You didn't feel you belonged here, not after all this time, not after all the blood spilt your hands. Nothing but crippling anxiety built up in your belly, the bile taste like poison through your vampiric teeth.

You've known Alucard before.

Back when you were human.

The two of you had met on your travels to India. You can easily remember the nights rolling around in silk satin. The warmth of his flesh and fading blonde strands against your bare skin. You remember the ecstasy of presenting your inventions and knowing that somewhere in the crowd lied your partner, Alucard. But you knew him as Adrian Tepes.

You also rememver how quickly all of the bliss went to shit.

You can clearly picture the night when Hindi vampires hailed from the sky. The fear, the trepidation. How your throat logged up, your eyes glossed over in affright.

You remember how Alucard grabbed you by the window of your estate-- but you, too panicked, too terrified, couldnt think straight and fought against him. You didn't listen, more so, couldn't hear him over the buzzing in your ears. So your physically weak body commanded you to fight against him to sit-- just for a moment all you needed was to sit down. Catch your breath.

But, you didn't listen.

Nay, you couldn't hear.

You remember the piercing feeling of--

You winced bitterly. Your hands flew to touch the burnt eclipse symbol on your forehead. Your hands shook, your heart drumming. It was better to stay focused.

But on what? Your mind was racing.

The atmosphere of Paris was lively, the night life was full of partying, as the smell of wine doft around the air. The city was full of glowing lights. You quietly stepped down the stone streets, careful to pull the heavy cloak over your face, and being ever more to hide your fangs.

You traveled down to a bar, following your most primal senses, and finding yourself peering in through the window. There, in the hubub of merry and warm lights, you could see him.

The Alucard.

Your Adrian Tepes.

Your breath fails you.

He's ever the more gorgeous than what he was before. His skin flushed an unnatural white, complimenting to his hair, now completely dull of blonde and bordering delicate sliver. His eyes were soft and doting, as he smiled at the bartender, engaged in a conversation your sharp ears could squander.

It was more so him listening, than saying a word.

You bit your lips, glossy tears brimming your eyes. You should walk in and slay him right now.

Slay him for your master.

Slay him for your h... Heartbreak.

Meekly, pitifully, your hand reached up to stroke the glass, guilt bursting through your body. But even though glass, your hand seemed to sear away from him. Even through glass, his sunshine seemed to burn your moonlit hands. No longer could you walk the day light the way you did before.

You are a creature of the night now. Undeserving to even try for the light.

Forlorn, bitter, and forgotten. Capable of only evil. And that is your reasoning for why you did what you had to do. You did what you had to when Erzsebet chose you. You did what you must, when you bathed in her holy blood.

Alucard has to accept it.

No, he's moved on by now. He doesn't even think of you after all this time.

Yet you could not.

By all law and by all reasoning you should be in there right now, either scorched to death by his paws, or destroying him in yours-- for your dead mistress's sake. But for some reason, now, one hundred years later, your body seems to forsake itself. It and everything you believed in.

Your teeth chattered.

There was too much blood on your hands now.

You could hear the bells of melancholy solitude.

Your fists clenched tightly.

Yea, and must you--

Suddenly, a voice calls out, "I know he's even more daunting in person," a hum trailing after her words. You turn in a shock, your eyes finding a small blonde girl dressed in pink, her hands folded as she stared through the window next to you. Her serious eyes fixated on the Alucard, her lips parted, the faintest air of a flush tinting her pale cheeks.

You swallowed thickly. You spoke, "Why- Yes." Seeing that she was no threat, you simply tugged your hood further. Your gaze averting back to the window.

She continues, "he has this aura. This presence... It brims with..."

"The cry of solitude," you mutter, unable to stop your pitiful hand from touching the glass once more. "Lonely little eyes, lonely stare," you whisper.

Look at you. Begging from your insides for him to turn and look at you.

She cackles, stepping behind you, "Yes, like an abandoned puppy." You suddenly feel magic swelling behind you. But before you can act, the little girl growls, "Move an inch and I'll cut out your throat," she spits.

You freeze on command, your eyes racing back to get a glimpse of her.

She grins, "I'm not stupid. Seriously. Who hangs around in a cloak at night mere days after the slaughter of thousands? Vampires are too predictable... Do you know how many of your kind has staged useless revenge attacks here? I'm not letting you get near Alucard. Ever."

Your eyes redirect themselves to the window, where Alucard parts with the bartender with a gracious smile. Your eyes clench close, savoring the memory behind your eyelids. You speak, your voice barely above a whisper, "If this must be my death, then so be it. For the glory of my lady Erzsebet--"

Yet fate smiles on you.

Before you could finish, you hear that husky, melachonly voice call, "Maria?"

It's slow and smooth, husky and rich.

Just as it was all those years ago.

Your heart caught itself in your throat. You should have never dropped your guard.

As the girl, who you assume is Maria, turns to face him with a zealous fire abrupting out her tongue, you shrink into a bat and take off to the night.

Being the luckier sort, you where able to escape.

Though you didn't dare glance at, him, you could feel the unmistakable burn of his body.

Alucard Tepes.

--

When the next night came around, you thought all of your juvenile feelings would pass. You thought seeing once would be enough; but your body ached until sunset, able to even sleep a bit during the day. You tossed and turned in the grass of the outskirts of the city, clawing at your chest, twisting and turning, trying to stop the cries that burnt down your cheeks; the wails that accompanied them.

After hours of agonizing.

You decided your pain must be stemming from losing your lady Erzsebet. How she stirs within you.

The guilt.

Of Erzsebet.

Nothing more or less.

"I- I don't know what I am anymore,"

"Let me tell you, please. I can tell you,"

You hissed at the memory, knees weak. Regardless of the omen, you took flight into the setting sky.

You found yourself on the balcony of one of the rooms in the castle. Your soul seemed to guide you to this particular one. Never have you doubted your instincts. The windows were open, the curtains flowing in the soft breeze. Your eyes honed in on the white figure, dressed in sleeping attire, latches on the front of his chest barely tied, revealing the delicious skin.

You stood still.

You knew that he could sense you.

But he continued to write, a small candle illuminating his face and letter.

You stepped into the room, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. The room smelled of him, smelled of aged vanilla, and a hint of spiced rum. Your fingers trailed down the fabric of the curtain. It was rough to the touch, no doubt made to block sunlight. Yet still you could hear the wanton scribbles of ink on paper.

You spoke, "I've come to kill you."

Alucard abruptly stopped. He rose his head, slowly turning to lay eyes on you. He blinks once, then twice; his soft lashes lidded over his eyes. He spoke, "Step into the light."

Intoxicating was the sound of his voice, the breath of his commands.

You obeyed, inching deeply closer. As close as you could without being burned by the radiance of his skin. Which, for you, was right at the edge of where the candle light could meet you.

You watch Alucard's face twinge up.

An expression your body only knew as disappointment.

You were bathed in blood the day you became a vampire. No-- You were addicted to it. Even now, to satisfy your hunger, you drink human blood twice a year. Anything to prevent your previous uncontrollable calamity.

You slaughtered so many.

Unable to hear Alucard.

Unable to hear Adrian.

You told yourself you needed to find yourself and hid from him. Going to the corners of the world where he wouldn't find you. And then finding yourself worshipping a woman who promised to feed your uncontrollable addiction. To turn the world into an endless night, that you may drink as much as you wanted.

Hell.

You discovered your body had the taste for men's blood over women's. Something adverse to most of vampire society. It made you feel better. At least you weren't slaughtering the defenseless.

It was only after continuous mental failures that Erzsebet forced you to become clean. She locked you up somewhere in Chukotka, letting perma-frost deal with you.

And you came out even more power hungry than how you started.

Yes.

There was countless deaths on your hands.

You weren't misled. Although, yes, a part of you was. But there was an even larger part of you that acted of its own accord. A part of you that you didn't know that you couldn't control. You were fully a vampire, not half.

You want to eat flesh and drink blood.

Not the blood of pigs, or chickens, or cows.

Human men's.

So there you stood with a face of stone, holding a dagger in your right hand.

"Closer. I cannot see you... Come closer," Adrian called.

But you didn't fall to his will this time.

"Your hood... At least remove it... May I see the face of the vampire who wishes to kill me," he whispers. Truth was, Adrian already knew it was you. He had a feeling when he felt Maria's magic, and seeing the glimpse of your form fluttering away into the night, he knew that whoever it was was quite the peculiar vampire.

He promised Maria that he'd go after you, and that she need not to worry. But he knew whoever it was would be back soon. Just. He didn't expect it to be you. Only after hearing your voice did it all make sense.

Truly, this all was a trap, he had his sword floating meters above his head out of sight. And it was aimed right at you.

You obeyed this time, slipping off your hood to reveal your face. His eyes twinge in horror and delight. Delight, at the nostalgic sight of your beauty. The softness of your face, the sweetness of your eyes, those lips he familiarized all to well with. Horror, at the almost faded symbol engraved onto your forehead. At the lack of life or passion in your eyes and the deep eyebags that accompanied it. Horror, of how your pretty eyes had turned red- a token of your endless bloodlust.

It was so painfully beautiful to look at.

He knew you were smart, and judging by your eye color, he knew you'd be a difficult vampire to fight. But despite it all, his guard had fell to ashes.

"(Y/n)," he whispered.

"I haven't heard that name in a while... My queen gave me a new one," you spoke. "The person you knew before is dead. And only I remain."

"Don't do this, you don't want this," Adrian pleads. Unexpectedly, he stands up from the table, his eyes lost in empathy. A gaze that seemed to sear your body worse.

You flinch backward in surprise, but he continued towards you.

You stand your ground, and as his presence draws near, his chest inches away from touching yours, you pull your dagger to rest against his neck.

But he's close, awfully so. His cosmic aura radiating against you, his beautiful luscious hair coating his shoulders, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

You only hardened yours, not allowing a droplet of emotion to slip through, not even for a second.

Adrian swallows thickly, feeling the blade caress his skin for every movement. You were shutting down on him, something he's seen before. He saw it the best the day he tried to save you, and you blindly shut away from him, unable to see the rush of hindi vampires barreling out towards the both of you.

Selfishly, he didn't care about saving that city that day; he only wanted you.

He would've took you so far, he would've cared for you until the end of your days.

He yearned after you for so long.

It was his fault you were swarmed. There were too many to count. Too many to fight.

He didnt mean to leave you in that hoard.

He knew the world still needed him, he couldnt die saving you.

But... He came back for you.

Hell, it was too late.

His eyes weaken, tears brewing up, "I deserve it, my love. I've forsaken you- I failed you."

What you didn't expect was those words.

You push him towards the bed as he speaks, forcing him to sit and keeping your blade against his neck as he did so.

"My love," he cries pitifully, his hand weakly grabbing your wrist that held the dagger. "Dying by your hands is befitting. I've lived for too long," he whispers. His beauty glows, shining brighter for every tear.

You push him again, and he lays back onto the bed, gorgeous locks sprawled out. Automatically, he seems to crawl backward, only his feet dangle off the edge. You force yourself on top of him, your hand by his head, the other holding the dagger to his neck, with your knees on either side of him.

Staring at your dead face was worse. He didn't know how to please you. He begs, "Please, my love... Speak to me... My (y/n), my sweet..."

If he failed anyone the most on the world, it was you. You were the frankstein that his mishaps created.

He knew it then, he should have killed you. Spare you of the new life that awaited you. He knew it when you shook in his arms, how you spoke with bloody fangs and an even bloodier chin. He couldn't do it. So selfishly he left you alive.

This was all his fault.

You sliced a small cut on the side of his neck, shallow enough for blood to ooze. He whimpers out, eyes frantically shutting, his knee surging in distress. You dive down, licking a delicious stripe on his neck. His blood is deliciously sweet with a tart aftertaste. Your free hand cups his neck as you bury your nose into his flesh, fangs threatening to puncture his skin as you slurped and licked.

He groans out, head arched backwards into the plush sheets, hands weakly grabbing fistful of your cloak. In his desperation to grip onto you, the cloak slips off, so his hands spring onto your shirt instead. A trail of delicate whimpers and groans mewl from his pink lips.

You can't take it anymore, and puncture your fangs into his flesh. He cries out, fistfuls of your shirt growing intense wrinkles. You pull out your fangs and slurp and suck out his crimson as it explodes to meet you, body growing franatic on the taste. Your knees weaken as you hapzardly sit down on him. Beneath the hilt of your ass, you can feel his achingly hard cock, your freehand grips his flesh in primal surprise.

He turns slightly, forcing you out of his neck to look at him. It's quite the sight to see you, lips and chin stained with his blood. "(Y/n)... (Y/n)," he's begging pitifully, his face flushed. You don't let him speak for long, as you bury your lips against his, creating sweet music.

The sound of liplocking overtakes the crisp air, as you slurp up his tongue as he feeds it to you. Your hands fall lower onto his body, caressing down his muscular shoulders, your dagger meeting his chest. You break away, slicing another shallow cut on his pale chest.

He groans and arches into the blade. You sink quickly into the taste, licking it up bountifully.

You pull back to admire your work. Adrian laid sprawled beneath you, his gorgeous hair mingling with the white linen, his mouth agape and flushed, your saliva trailing from the corners of it. His neck sliced and punctured, as the remains of his blood dribbled onto the sheets. He was beautiful.

You softly grind your hips down against his, moaning out quietly, licking the blade as you did so. Adrian cried out, "W-Wait," and grabbed your hips, locking them in place.

You looked at him, and confusion poisoned his features.

"T-Talk to me," he grunts.

Your eyes narrow down on him, "What is it to talk about, Adrian? Our bodies want eachother."

Adrian shuts his eyes close, pain dotting his features. He sputters breathlessly, "I can't do this-- I'm too old... I can't be spontaneous like b--"

You quirk, "You cannot stay up anymore?"

His face brims red, "No! I can-- It's just... (Y/n), I don't want to just sleep with you and forget it-- I loved you... I lo-- care for you... I want you. I don't want to forget you."

Unsettling feeling springs up in your chest. "I'm loyal to no one," you spit. "You killed my master." You pull away from him, dagger still in hand, as you slide off the bed.

Adrian shoots up, rushing after you as you continue toward the window. He captured your hips within seconds, barely dodging the slice you swung as you turned around. He took the opportunity to pull you close, grabbing your wrist and holding your dagger back from another slice.

You groan and struggle like a wild cat. He sinks into your wrist, softly placing a kiss under where his thumb held you. He drug his nose upwards to your palm, where it hit the hilt of the dagger. In surprise, you dropped it, and it landed with a clamor. He follows up your hand until he rests his cheek on your open palm, forcing you to softly carress the skin.

Your breath hitches, that feeling springing up more and more. You try to claw away from it, your free hand to swing at his chest, your foot raising up to kick him uncoordinatedly.

Hurt flashes through Adrian's eyes, but he lets you go. Unexpectedly, you flew back into the closed windows, your heel getting caught on the curtains, making you slip back, falling on your butt to the floor.

In this vulnerable position, Alucard stood above you, hands behind his back, his gown giving away glimpses of his sleek legs. Frantic, your head begins to spin, as your eyes drag back and forth over his body. You whimper out headless sounds as you grab onto the curtain for support. Desperate to gain some sanity.

His smell, his taste, the sight of him.

It wasn't just overcoming lust, but instead this weird feeling from the depths of your brain, crying out. Some sort of emotional response. And emotions were the one thing you sought to control. What Erzsebet saw as a flaw in you.

Listening to your emotions.

Your eyes shut close, freezing up as you tenderly hold onto the curtain. Adrian's quiet, deathly so. You can feel his eyes draw in on you, and somehow it's worse than the fear.

He reaches and opens the window for you, the midnight breeze flying in as the glass door reveals the balcony you entered in from. You eyes pop open, glimpsing out towards the night sky.

Yet you can't bring yourself to leave either.

Your knuckles grow white.

"Leave," you hear him mutter, "You can leave..."

Your head whips to see him, an aura of empathy radiating off his form. All he sees is just another scared vampire.

But he knows if you leave, you might not ever return.

You've got too much of yourself to figure out.

You know that you should leave.

You slowly stand.

His heart burns and he looks off at the floor.

You finally, finally speak, "I-I can't leave... Surely, I'll die." Your heart pounds at the words.

"I'll tell Maria about you," he whispers.

No. He didn't understand. You didn't mean it physically. This was horrifying. Having to explain what you wanted most. Frustrated tears pinged the corners of your eyes, your hands shaking. Stress overcoming your pinched eyebrows.

"Al-- Adrian... Adrian... Adrian," is all you can muster out, a pitiful plea. "Adrian I'll die--"

But before you could finish the sentence, you were involved into a strong embrace. You could hear his cries against your ears as he kept bitterly, your hands weakly holding onto the clothes that hang around his back.

"Stay here-- stay here forever," he yearns.

Your heart bursts. "O-Okay-- Okay Adrian,"

And just as the morning sun peaks in from the clouds, Adrian pulls you back into his dark room, and shuts the door.

You are pulled deeper and deeper into his midnight lair, pulled until your feet crawl against the bed, where he tucks you under with him, encasing you in his arms and in velvet sheets. He seems to swallow you whole, entrapped in his love with nowhere to go. With nothing but fear of rejection lingering him, he braves through it, softly peppering the back of your neck with subtle kisses.

And with nothing but the fear of love in your belly, you brave it, ragdolling and leaving yourself vulnerable to his affections, and also how they make you feel.

Your back is flush against his chest, his legs against the back of yours as he spoons you. He has a strong arm laid on your body. It hooks through your chest and rests his hands on place by your sternum and collarbone. He's holding you there, holding you as he whispers, painful affections and peppers' sweet kisses.

You focus merely on calming your stress, sucking in slow breaths, desperate to process the last hour with him. Its hard to think of anything at all, when you hear his smooth, husky voice calling out your name caressing and kissing you.

You wince and groan out, as his lips dip to the start of your back. His hand releases you to pull at the laces of your shirt, undoing it to reveal more of your back. Your skin is cold, but definitely not uncharacteristic of a vampire.

His large, warm hand caresses the skin, and you arch and sigh out. The warmth drags deliciously slow strokes up and down your sensitive back, his thumb trailing your spine. He reaches and pulls the shirt off one side of your shoulder as he dips into it to kiss it.

You whimper, tension feeling the area.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he whispers.

You try to figure out his intentions by saying that, but the only thing that seems to spring up is genuine care. Tears prick your eyes again. You hate to say there's only one thing your body wants to say. But you have to be vulnerable to let it take over. You wince, and with shaky breath, you spoke, "It wasn't your fault, Adrian..."

His hand slips under your shirt and touches your bare stomach, the warm feeling spreading as he slides up to your ribcage, still kissing at the beginning of your back and neck.

"I failed to protect you, I couldn't help you, I regret it so much," he whispers.

"I ran from you too, Adrian... It wasn't all your fault... I was addicted to human blood... And in the hours you were gone, I already feasted on hundreds with the rest," you whispered. "I wasn't going to give that up... Not even for you."

"But--"

"You were powerless before. You were powerless again... You may be strong, but you can not out number the thousands," you pause, struggling either the next set of words, "Besides... You already fought so hard for me... It was..."

Adrian stops, eyes trailing to you.

"Admirable..." Your tone was fluttering.

He seems satisfied with the answer, as he sinks down, unbuckling your belt, and pulling out oneside of it. You grunt as his hands slip into your pants, large hand going to squeeze the warmth of your inner thighs. Despite it all, you still felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He continues to kiss his lips. You lick yours, tasting his sweet, dried blood.

You ask, "Do you want me, Alucard?"

He whines in your ears, "Of course I do." He's like an excitable puppy, just waiting to get off on you. And like a dog, you feel him start to grind against your ass.

A pleased hum escapes you. Within seconds, you transform into a bat, using it to reappear, once again ontop of him. He gasps in surprise, turning over to face you. You grin, caressing his cheek. "Look at my face, you think you can fuck this? Does this not detest you," you lean in with a hiss.

It was your turn to decloth him, as you raised his sleeping gown up higher and higher, revealing more of his pale skin. He's taken aback for a second, his eyes flickering between your ruby red ones and the fading sigil on your forehead. You open your mouth, baring your bloody fangs.

He whimpers, objectively bucking up into your hand.

How pitiful.

You grin sharply, by now his gown was pulled up to his stomach, his unmarked flesh ever so delicious in your eyes. You also took note that he wore no undergarments, his cock half hard as it arose. You sunk down on your knees between his legs, lowering yourself to his dick and laying your hands on his hips.

He grew harder in your stare. You scratched the side of his hip, the faintest dewlet of blood dropping on your finger tip. You brought it up to your mouth, staring deep into his eyes as you licked it away. He groaned, bucking upwards again.

"Ah, ah, ah... Patience, Adrian," you whispered.

He nodded powerlessly, his dewy hair clinging to his neck and face. You bring your lips to his cock, cupping the base of it with both hands, and misting your breath against the sensitive rod. His cockhead pulses towards you lips, you giggle at the sight. Finally, you sink your nose against the side of him, drinking in his scent.

"Oh- fuck," He curses, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. But he can't bring himself to look away. You were enchanting.

You open your mouth all the way, using the front of your fang with your front teeth to drag the smooth side of your teeth against his flesh. He whimpered and cried out, sloppily dropping a heavy hand on your head. You stop just before his head, where you tongue his tip's hole, using the sharper part of your muscle to do so.

He wains, trying his best not to fist your hair for you. Being so good for you.

You turn your head to the side again, sucking the side of his shaft, slurping and swaying against him with your tongue. He was more than hard by now, his dick long and skinny, no shorter than nine monstrous inches, a testament to his vampire side. It was a flushed pale pink, growing red by the second.

You let go of him, and his cock flops back against his stomach with a smack. You laugh, picking him up again with your index finger just to see him fall, again, and again. Adrian doesn't complain, merely, he uses his freehand to grip the sheets beside him, restraining himself all for you.

Once playing with his cock proved enough, you sunk into his balls, burying your nose into him, and ferociously slurping, sucking, and licking him up. He moans out in shock, as you use your hands to stroke his inner thighs comfortably. "Aaah- (y/n)," he seems to stutter out your name. As if a simple plea would make you take him seriously.

You slurp one into your mouth before the other, then you release and drag a long stripe upwards to his cock, and then to his cockhead. You scoop his dick up one last time before finally, finally, guiding him straight into your mouth. You hallow out your cheeks around his length, sucking him, and running your tongue briskly around the bottom of him. You bob your head pacedly to the sound of his wanton moans, using your hands to please what your mouth failed to reach.

Adrian's jaw falls completely slack, his grip tightening in your hair, wanton moans following out of his lips. It had been at least forty years since he had last had sex, the thrills of it burned his pent-up mind. Without thinking, he slowly began to thrust into your warm mouth, sliding himself back and forth against your soft, hot, moist taste buds. You grunt, adjusting your head to accept him better.

He mumbles, "Sorry- Sorry." But its met with an angry stare.

Well. If he's already in trouble, he might as well please himself while he can. His thrusts gain speed, his head hitting the back of your throat.

You wheeze around him, dropping your hands to grip his inner thighs, careful to not squeeze his cock. He takes this small adjustment as an agreement from you as he furthers all nine inches of himself into your deep throat. You can feel him tickle far into your body, a feeling you almost would've forgotten. Only Adrian's ever fucked you like this, and painfully, it sent pleased tingles down your body. Despite how you gagged and choked about him. The sensation was replaceable.

You were vice against him, a sign he was further than where he should, but hell it was exhilarating. His moans grew louder, his head doting back between looking at you and being lost in bliss. His thrusts began to slow as he slipped out of your deep throat, from your mouth, and came right as he slid out of your lips.

You gasped in surprise, as his warmth sprayed your nose, lips, cheeks, some of it dribbling down your chin. You cough, angrily wiping his cum off your face with your forearm. "How considerate of you, Alucard," you grunt, staring at the sticky fluids against your skin.

He merely laughs, "Do forgive me, love." Angrily, you slip off the bed. He calls out, "N-No wait I di--"

"Calm yourself," you hum. You slip out of your clothes, dropping your pants to the floor, sliding out of your boots, and pulling your shirt over your head. Your ruined undergarments fell just as quick. You briskly returned ontop of him, pulling up his gown to his ribcage. You suddenly pause, "Or? Did you not want me to undress?"

How could you say something so cruel when he was only looking at you during that whole process, softly squeezing himself to stay hard, and biting his lip when he saw your bare ass. He's restricting himself for you, can't you see how good he is? All it takes is one pitiful, glossy eyed look from him and you know what he's thinking. "Of course I- By all means, (y/n)," he tries to play it cool.

Your grin worsens. You grab him by the chin, as your freehand lines him up to your hole. Eagerly, you watch as his face constructs, eyebrows pinching forward in delight, sultry eyes staring up at you, lips parted to moan. You kiss your hole against his tip, puckering to seal the deal. He thrusts forward, dipping his head into your honey walls.

You moan, soon, giving all the way in and slipping down on his skinny cock. Your eyes fly to space as you take more and more of him, feeling his cock tickle your gut, until bottoming out. In sync, the two of you moan sharply at the feeling. Your head drops forward in bliss.

"(Y/n)," he sighs, his hands reaching up and guiding your hair away from your face. Last he remembers, you were never put out of commission just by bottoming out on him. Unless, you too were just as pent-up as he was.

You gaze up at him, humming. He becons you closer, so you drop his jaw and pick up your head. He takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek, just beneath your left eye. You giggle, "Aw, how cute."

Immediately you bounced on him, slowly dragging his long cock against your walls. Your head grew heavy again, as you rested your forehead against his collarbone. "Aaah, Adriaan," you hiss, your moans drowning out his whimpers.

You plunge down on his length, feeling him stretch about your gut, and you clench around his cock. That all it takes before Adrian loses it, frantically thrusting and bucking up into you. You cry out in surprise, "A-Adrian," your moan closer to an ecstatic wail.

He's speedy, relentless, his length seeming to make up for his lack of precision. Your body felt completely stuffed. He stimulated parts of you that where never before touched, at least, not by anyone but his cock. His hands gripped chunks of your bare hips, his eyes fucked out and lips spread, his fangs flashing in the disarray.

Your hand leaned forward, resting your palm against the bedframe for support, your head laying next to his by now, ass bounced about adverse to your accord. It was pathetic, as drool dabbled the corners of your lips. "A-Adrien-- Good- Good boy," you mewl, and it only sends him into a worse frenzy.

Through the barrage of frantic, doggish thrusts, your message gets sent straight to Adrian's fangs, a primal urge over taking him. He sits up, stopping for second, to lay his back against the pillow. You dazedly peek up from his neck, but quickly, he starts up thrusting again. Only this time, before you could even moan, he leans down and punctures your shoulder. He doesn't withdraw his teeth to draw blood. No, it's more so to lock you in place. His fangs split your flesh in second, the primal sensation causing you to arch and moan, grabbing chunks of his white locks.

Vampires fuck like dogs.

You reach forward with your free hand and dig your sharp nails into the flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood. Your brain turned off, and your lust fueled off the scent. His thrusts lose all coordination, and if it weren't for his length, he would have slipped out a dozen times by now.

With a deep, whiney voice, he husks, "I-I'm cumming- C-cumming-- I'm cumming," voice interrupted by your skin for every thrust.

"Cum you bastard," you snarl. No way you'd let him have all the fun, as you started to bounce downwards, fucking yourself on him in time with his senseless barrage. It's only through you that his thrust meets some sort of rhythm, as you clean up all his doggish mishaps.

Fuck, you'd be lying to say your climax wasn't rapidly approaching. Hell, it seemed to make you angrier. Next time you'll really fuck him up good.

With a cry, hot semen floods your warm insides, but you can't even look back, as Alucard's fangs trap your shoulder in place. His thrusts stop as he rides out his high, and it only worsens your agenda against him because you haven't even came yet.

"Bastard, have you lost all manners," you ruin his afterglow, as you ferociously fuck down on him again, quick and speedy, replicating it from before. A sadistic glow seems go brim your face, your moans full of delight. Adrian whimpers and whines, overstimulation causing him to buck, squirming away beneath you. Despite it, he doesn't loosen his death grip on your hips, nor does he remove his fangs.

As your moans spiked, he closed his ears to engulf the airy sound of you reaching your orgasm. You cry out, your knees stupidly giving out, bottoming out on him as you exploded. You dropped your head weakly forward, not that it could go anywhere, but still keep your iron grip in his white locks and your nails embbeded in his flesh.

You two were really doing this. Stubborn fucks, mating like vampires and engaging in a childish ritual. Whoever pulls away their fangs or claws first loses power to the other, a primal game as old as time that quickly overrides your natural senses.

Your nails possesively sink deeper into his flesh, unaware of how your red eyes flickered and bloomed a deeper shade. And for the first time in your life, you heard Adrian grunt and growl like a dog, having the upper hand with his teeth embedded in you. His grip on your hips were tight enough to crush and hurt. It only makes your insides flutter around him.

You pull at his locks, forcing his head back. He whimpers, fangs flying out with him, as a fountain of your blood springs out. It's your turn to finally release him, as you lean back, cupping a hand over your wound. You laugh, "Ah-hah..."

Your beautiful crimision leaks down your chest in waves, coating your nipples. He salivates and slaps a hand over himself. "Drink, my love. You've earned it," you mewl. With your freehand you lather yourself in your blood, caressing and squeezing your body as if it were any expensive lotion.

His eyes shut, hips bucking into you. You mewl. He groans, "I have never drank blood. Not once in my three-hundred-years of living."

You blink in surpise. "Aah... Is that why you didn't draw from me." Due to your vampiric healing, the wound closed, leaving only blood to remain. Your hand goes to join the other, as it scoops up a stripe of blood and guides it to your mouth. "It's gooddd," you cackle.

"I know, I can smell it," he grunts.

"Fine," you sadly part with his dick, sliding off the bed and grabbing your cloak from earlier; patting yourself dry. You can hear the bed shift behind you, feel eyes burning against your ass.

"You'll stay, at this castle, won't you?" He asks.

"For as long as I can before that girl comes to kill me," you laugh.

"Then, retreat to my castle."

"The one by the belmont settlement? Surely they'll kill me worse," you roll your eyes.

He grins, stepping out of bed and encasing you in a hug. He burrows his face against you, whispering, "Then I'll have to hide you. You can't leave this very room. M- My pet..."

Your eyelid twitches.

You know he's just trying to rile you up. But still, your fists clench.

"Oh hell, no," you grumble as you shove him back onto the bed.

His hearty laughter fills the air.

You get on top of him, raising meaningless fists (ones that weren't going to hurt him in the first place), that are captured by his hands. He laughs, the sound as pure as sunlight.

It makes your face scrunch playfully, "I am going to get you, I really am. I'll kill you first, Alucard."

He grunts, cupping your ass and tossing you off. You cry, playfully landing on your side. He crawls on top of you, a gorgeous beauty, and he pulls his luxurious white strands back away from his face. "I'd like to see you try," he mutters, but your eyes move to the scar across his chest.

"Mmh," you moan, eyes lidding.

"Shall we go again, my love?"

"I think I would like that."

[misswynters]

Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ�� ֗   ִ  ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

| next chapter | masterlist |

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena

[solbaby7]

"Hey babes! Can I get a frozen Pina colada with a salt rim please!..." (slides extra 20$ across counter top) "... Maybe a little extra salty...😉"

🫡now your speaking my language🫡🍹🧂🧂🧂

[ “are you crazy? we’re in public” “then you’d better keep quiet” + cassian + smut ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Cassian was the kind of male your mother warned you about.

With his charming smiles and cheeky dimples. All that thick muscle bulging against worn leather. When you close your eyes, you can still smell him; sandalwood laced with the bitter tang of iron.

A pretty storm.

The perfect disaster.

Cassian was controlled chaos, the kind that sweeps through and fucks your life up while you’re too blinded by their beauty to notice. And just when the fog clears over your eyes, they’ve already moved onto the next best thing and your left cleaning up the carnage.

You’d been warned, yet you ignore it anyway—hypnotized by those welcoming hazel eyes and all too pliant under hands strong enough to break fragile bone.

He uses it to his advantage, manhandling you about; placing you exactly as he wants you. Legs splayed over his lap. Tits warm and supple in his palms when he subtly gropes at you, a dripping cunt pooling arousal in his lap. “Cassian,” A gasp pulls free when the pad of his fingers drag through your folds, voice shaky when you glance about the room. “Are you crazy? We’re in public—someone will hear.”

“Then, you’d better keep quiet peach because I’m not stopping.” Muscles tense in response, back bowing to conceal the thick arm tucked beneath your dress. His wrist flicks casually, lazily; two fingers keeping you spread while another applies a dizzying amount of pressure to your bud. One knee jerks at the stimulation, knocking ever so slightly under the table before you remember where you are—the discretion required and as if on queue, Cassian mutters in your ear. “No one’s going to see either.”

Debatable.

But, he certainly makes it more difficult with his hulking figure swallowing you whole, every inch hidden by muscular shoulders and a broad wingspan.

You're lucky that gathered guests are too busy fawning over your High Lord and his Lady to notice that the commander of his armies was working two fingers into your leaky cunt. A blush burns along your cheekbones, spine stiff and breathing spotty when trying to pretend that the steady thrust of his digits inside you wasn't shooting lightening along your nerves.

A cold-sweat breaks out along your hairline, hips subconsciously rutting into the pleasure brought between your thighs. "This is insane," You huff out, the smell of fae wine assaulting your senses with its sweet notes--almost as intoxicating as the male responsible for your undoing. "Can't believe you're making me do this."

"Not making you do anything, peach." The pace of his fingers speeds up, a humiliating squelch sounding below fresh linens as your body shows just how weak your flesh is. It's infuriating how quickly Cassian gets you there; too aware of what makes you tick and using it to his advantage. "Not yet, at least."

Lips swell under the stress of your teeth biting into them but it's the only way to keep the whorish moans trapped on your tongue as you teeter the line of mind-numbing ecsasty.

It’s so close you can taste it. Eyes clenching shut. Mouth parted ever so slightly as fingers curl into the fabric bunched at your thighs. But right before the peak of pleasure can wash over you, the sound of a chair being pulled back draws your attention.

“Well brother,” A voice croons. “What do we have here?”

[anachronismstellar]

...... Like I know it might not be the best times but I can offer yall a sqh 12/12 achievement fic in these tiring times? :(

[mythicmanuscripts]

Do you think omega Aemond despite trying so hard to fight being an omega would try to preen for his Alpha subconsciously? Like imagine he and his Alpha have gotten together and he cant help but spend a little extra time worrying that his hair isnt straight enough (we all know he straightens his hair 😅), his old clothes dont ‘fit’ so he *needs* to get newer and nicer ones that no one has seen before in a color you said made his skin look nice, and no, it is just a coincidence he has started hounding the other omega ladies for skincare tips.

Aw I love this idea!!!

Omega!Aemond below the cut. All my a/b/o content is tagged with 'a/b/o hotd' so if you don't want to see this type of thing just block that tag.

So firstly, from the moment Aemond spoke to you for the first time he was obsessed. He's just so... captivated? There's something about the way you take him seriously in a way most alphas don't, but at the same time you manage to also make him feel so well cared for. He always wants to be around you, and he starts to get grumpy and irritable when he hasn't seen you in a few days.

Basically from the moment he presented as an omega he has had alphas talk down to him and belittle him and assume he’s not as strong or smart as he is. (Side note, what if he claims Vhagar after he presents? Runs away and ends up with Vhagar who protects him?). It’s this history that makes him so unreceptive to any courting attempts. If one more person gifts him a rose and promises to take care of him then he’s actually gonna lose it.

Despite this, he's somehow completely oblivious to how he wants you to mate him? You’d think with his general distain for most alphas it would stand out to him immediately when there’s suddenly an alpha whose company he actually enjoys.

He mostly doesn’t realise this just because he honestly doesn’t even think of it. He doesn’t really think of anything when you’re around. Usually he’s constantly analysing every alpha in his vicinity, glancing at them all often to take note of where they are and trying to spot his quickest escape route. But with you it’s like that mistrusting part of himself just doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Head absolutely empty.

He's been pushing down his instincts for so long that he doesn't realise his desire to always be around you isnt just because he gets along well with you.

It's extremely obvious to everyone else of course, he's not exactly subtle. He goes from refusing to give any alphas the time of day to tripping over his own feet in his hurry to snag a seat next to you. And then just when they think he can't get more obvious, he starts asking for fashion advice and maybe even starts peaking into the kitchens to see how the servants cook so that he can make you something one day.

It’s especially obvious whenever he sees an opportunity to do something for you, and he’ll actually get upset and almost territorial over you if someone else does whatever he wanted to do? And this is all the way down to the most minor thing. He literally hissed at a servant who saw him reaching for the wine and assumed he wanted a cup of it to be poured.

Because no!!! No he didn’t want a cup to be poured he wanted to pour it for you!!! He’ll be all grumpy about it, acting irritated until you say his name and get his attention back on you then he almost immediately forgets about the servant.

Once you realise how much Aemond seems to love any compliments and acknowledgement you give him, you take special care to ensure you're saying nice things to him. Every single time you do his scent spikes and he blushes and sometimes you swear he's having to stop himself from purring.

He always takes note of the specific things you compliment him on and ensures to focus on them. When you realise this you start to use it to encourage self care for himself? You complement how well rested he looks, you thank him for that eating enough, you tell him you’re so proud of him for standing up for himself, etc.

And all throughout this he has absolutely no idea he’s falling for you.

In fact, he only notices when he realises one day how it’s been ages since some rich alpha came skipping into the castle with an offer of mating and a generic gift he’ll throw out immediately. Maybe it’s only at a big event that it finally comes out? Like there’s a massive celebration feast hosted with dancing and music and usually at least 10 alphas are all lined up to ask for a dance but this time not a single one approaches him.

It’s only after that evening that he realises everyone thinks he’s already taken by you.

Which…. Well they might not be 100% right but they certainly aren’t wrong either.

[imagines--galore]

legolas + n.6 please🙇‍♀️🙏👀

Summary: Never in your wildest dreams did you think Legolas, Prince Legolas of the Greenwood, would confess to you half drunk on elvish wine. With a little help from a fully drunk Dwarf. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Just some mention of drunken shenanigans. A/N: Alright so normally its always the reader who gets drunk and confesses, and I just wanted to flip it the other way around and see how it goes, so yeah. Here you go!

You peaked out from behind the tapestry where you had taken refuge.

Finding the hallway empty, you heaved a sigh of relief, before slowly stepping out and dusting whatever minor dust had collected on your dress.

You were avoiding your friends who had decided it would be in your best interest attend yet another feast that was thrown in honor of the return of the Prince. And though you loved spending time with Legolas, being under the scrutiny of the entire kingdom during a public event was not one you looked forward to.

Especially when you were afraid that your true feelings for Legolas would be discovered at any moment.

You certainly hadn't been discrete about them.

Then again you did not blame yourself. You had been caught up in the moment. The realization that he was standing in front of you. That he had not perished in the Battle against Mordor. That he had returned and the first person he had gone to meet was you.

And while your lips ached to meet his, you had settled for an embrace that was so intimate and sincere that several onlookers had actually blushed at the sight. What made your heart soar was that he returned the embrace with just as feeling and passion as you gave it. Your eyes stung with tears and all those months of worrying, of wondering, of hoping.

They all just dissipated.

Like the morning mist when the first rays of sun peaked through the branches of a tree.

As you leaned against a nearby pillar, a dreamy smile played about your lips as you raised a hand to your cheek, where he had placed his hand once the both of you had pulled back from the embrace.

Looking into his eyes wiped away any lingering doubts that this was a dream. His blue gaze was so full of hope that you felt your very heart burst.

You remembered how he had spoken of doing good for Mirkwood. How he had vowed that they would once again be known as Greenwood again. And now he had helped make that a reality.

With his hand on your cheek, he had opened his mouth to speak, but the arrival of the King had both your priorities shifting and you had both stepped away.

Though with how fast gossip traveled you knew the King was aware of you now. The Elleth his son had gone to see upon his return home after months.

Not his father.

You.

He had come back to you.

You chest raised in a silent sigh as you slowly began to move down the hallway. The feast was being held on the other side of the Kingdom, so you would not be running into anyone during your trek back to your rooms.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Loud boisterous laughter was what first alerted you to another presence. Before you could even think of hiding two figures had turned the corner and stood in your path.

One was short and obviously drunk as a lord given how he blearily peered up at you. This was the dwarf Gimli, who you knew to be Legolas's friend and someone who had fought in every battle against Mordor alongside him.

The other person, was none other then Legolas.

"Y/n." He exclaimed, blinking his eyes at you as if he had never seen you before. You gave a nervous little smile, raising a hand in greeting. "Ah! So this is the lass you spoke of." Gimli stated. His words were slurring but you could clearly make out what he was saying as he lumbered forward and gave you a quick bow.

"An honor to meet you My Lady." You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to be courteous despite his inebriated state. "I must say I feel as if I already know you given how much a certain Prince spoke of you during our travels together."

Never in your life had you seen Legolas be anything but calm and collected. He would laugh and make merry, sure. But nervous? Flustered. Those were not emotions you associated with him.

But in that moment, when Gimili said what he did, you watched in utter surprise as Legolas was rendered speechless and his cheeks grew pink. You couldn't help the giggle that fell from your lips as you watched him. Though you quickly looked away when he raised his gaze towards you.

Turning your attention back to the smiling dwarf you smiled kindly. "I hope they were all good things, Master Dwarf." Gimli was all too eager to comply to her silent question as he began to slur.

"Oh nothing but the best My Lady. Every spare moment we had to breath, this one here, would sing your praises. Of your beauty, good heart, lovely nature and how much you meant to him."

Now it was your turn to blush. A gentle smile pulled at your lips as you bit down on your lower lip, gazing at Legolas just from underneath your lashes. He was looking at you in the same manner once more.

Right before his father had called him away.

Gimli was still speaking, unaware of the looks being exchanged between the two elves. "He missed you lass, anyone could tell. And I said to him, you had best say your piece to the lass when you get back." He cleared his throat. "Of course at the time it was all about if we went back. But that is besides the point."

He turned his attention back to Legolas and slapped him on the back. Or as best as he could given his lack of height. He did managed to make Legolas stumble. "Now that you have a few drinks in you that do effect you lad, perhaps it has given you enough courage to confess." Legolas's eyes widened almost comically, prompting you to smother a smile behind your hand.

Chortling to himself, Gimli began to stride down the hallway. "I leave him in your capable hands, My Lady. I believe there is some elvish wine calling my name."

And with that he was gone.

Leaving you and Legolas alone.

"He is certainly an interesting dwarf." You said, feeling that perhaps it would be best if you broke the silence that was clearly making him uncomfortable. Elvish wine had the ability to loosen one's control over their emotions. Even the most stoic of elves. So it was no surprise that every emotion Legolas was feeling was evident that would've otherwise been concealed.

"That he is." He agreed, though the words were spoken in a strange tone, and suddenly you couldn't meet his eyes. What burned in them was too intense.

Brushing a loose piece of hair behind your ear you nodded. "I suppose you had best get some rest Legolas." You took a few steps to walk past him and let him continue on his way.

But just as you stepped next to him, his hand darted out, grasping your wrist and halting you in your steps.

Your breath hitched as you felt his strong grip against your skin. Your head turned, eyes dropping to where his hand was, before looking at him. He was still staring straight ahead.

Neither of you moved. And it would seem, neither of your breathed as you waited.

But for what?

"I have been holding something close to my heart for a long while and I can do so no longer for fear it shall consume me." He was speaking in elvish. He shook his head. "No. It has already consumed me."

Finally, he turned his head and a startled gasp fell from your lips as you caught sight of the near feverish look in his blue gaze. "You have consumed me."

Your lips parted, and it was your turn to stare at him. And that was all you could do.

All you could do was watch as he allowed his hand to gently grasp yours and bring it up to his lips. His breath was warm as he brushed his lips against the back of your hand. Never for a moment did his eyes leave yours.

And it was the sincerity and surety in those eyes that compelled you to finally find your voice. "Speak of what burdens your heart so, Legolas." You whispered, reaching up to affectionately rest a hand against the side of his face, just as he had done to you a few hours earlier.

He shook his head. "Not a burden. Never a burden." The wine seemed to be making it difficult for him to find the right words to say. "All I desire is for you to know of my feelings for you." His head slowly fell forward so that his forehead rested against yours. The closeness seemed to comfort him, since he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his entire body relaxing. "For you to know how you consumed my every thought during my travels. How your name was a prayer upon my lips every night. How with every foe I killed I knew I was making the world a safer place for you." He had opened his eyes now and could see the tears shining in your eyes, as well as the smile of adoration playing about your lips.

"Then you should know, that I prayed to the Valar for your safe return. That I kept you close in my mind and my heart. That I never once believed the rumors of your demise. That I knew in my soul that you would return to me. You have been my hope and my strength in these dark days Legolas." He reciprocated your smile as you spoke.

A beat of silence followed where both your hearts beat as one and as one, as if by the Valar, words rose to your lips, unbidden, yet with an ancient power behind them that no one could ever hope to comprehend.

"My prayer." His nose brushed against your own as you both spoke together.

"My light." You could feel his warm breath against your parted lips as you both whispered in tandem.

"My Fëa."

With nothing more left to say, his lips brushed against yours in the gentlest yet deepest of kisses.

[arc-misadventures]

The High Elf’s Tale

Lady Willow Schnee…

She was a high elf that had lived to be nigh on a thousand year. She was a mother of three wonderful children, two girls, and a boy. And, she was unfortunate married to a repulsive, slime ball of a high elf.

It was a forced marriage her parents put her through; something about keeping the bloodline pure. They said this as if it was something sacred, and special to uphold in high regard. Yet keeping the bloodline pure often lead to a unsanitary deal of inbreeding, and the various noble bloodlines of the human nations had taught anyone who had eyes to see the vile, and various consequences of inbreeding.

Luckily for, Willow this animated corpse was only her second cousin. Though the thought of having married that decrepit spawn of goblin dung never sat well with her.

To escape her ‘loving’ husband, Willow eventually fell into drinking: Elvin Wine, Dwarf Ale, Faunkin Brandy, even the feeble excuse of alcohol that was, Human Beer. For nearly a hundred years she drunk herself into a stupor. If it wasn’t for her daughter’s, she dare say she’d still be a drunkard.

After recovering from her addiction of the bottle, she escape that sentient trash heap of a living being, and became a scholar at the kingdom’s national library, one of the largest repository of knowledge in the know world.

Willow spent her time there delving into ancient knowledge, magic, and history of the world. Nearly two hundred years had passed since she had arrived there, and she had swiftly became a premier scholar, having read the majority of the library’s vast collection of tomes, history books, fine literature, and grimoires. And, thus becoming a wizard of great renown throughout the kingdom.

Willow had thought she would live a peaceful life studying her books for the rest of her life. But, all of that changed on the day that during her studies she stumbled upon the most curious sight: A human knight scoping about the library.

A curious sight to behold; human scholars were a rare, but not uncommon sight to be seen perusing about the vast elven libraries. But, a human knight in their library was something else entirely. So, she grew curious, Willow said she had developed an inquisitive side to her, no doubt due to all the books she read. So, with her curiosity peaked she decided to say hello to this human knight, and ask him why he was here.

Little did, Willow know that simply saying hello to this human lead her down a rabbit hole that seemingly had no end.

Who would believe that just by saying hello to a human knight named, Jaune Arc would result in her assisting him in his quest to slay a dragon, and to battling hordes of bandits, slavers, and all other of vile barbarians just to back a dragon-stone to her kingdom.

Nor, would it have lead them to discovering a vile, and treacherous secret plot being made by her, bastard son of a whore husband’s to overthrow the reigning monarchy in an attempt to take over the kingdom.

Who could have foreseen her shit flinger of a husband was merely being used by a cult that has used the dragon-stone they had acquired for an vile arcane ritual that was being used to summon a, Demon-Lord in an attempt to destroy the kingdom.

Willow, would never had thought she would wind up in a book in the very same library she stood over of as a member in a tale of hero’s who would fight along side, the Knight of the Rusted Order, Jaune Arc, and his companions to slay a, Demon-Lord, and save the entire kingdom.

Willow would have never had expected that after all the travels, and adventures that she would wake up in the arms of this young knight after the victory celebrations. And, considering how loveless her marriage was, and dull, and repulsive the times they spent in bed together, she could have never foreseen how enjoyable, and overwhelming pleasurable it was to sleep with a man she genuinely loved.

In all of, Willow’s life she had never expected to fall in love with a man, a human no less. Let alone marry a human knight that was a thousandth her age, and least of all bear several wonderful, beautiful children with him.

But, that just how life goes; unpredictable, but unforgettable, and wonderful nonetheless.

[feyreswaterybowels]

Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are Azriel’s mate of 150 years. Your home used to be Velaris until your sister mysteriously disappeared 60 years ago without a trace and it’s been your life’s mission to find her. That is until one day you’re back in Velaris for the first time in years to meet the new high lady and you get your first clue as to where your sister may be after all these years.

Warnings: mentions of missing child, mentions of death in child birth, implied sexual content.

Part 1 ↓

“Wait, Azriel has a mate?” Feyre gawked at her mate, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“How did I not know this? I thought he was interested in Mor?”

“Azriel and Morrigan do have a strong love for one another. But not in a romantic sense. Azriel as been mated to (Y/N) for little over 150 years.” Rhys confirms, with a grin

“How come I haven’t met her yet?” Feyre asks, her interest peaked at this mysterious woman that’s never been mentioned to her—confused when her mate's grin falters.

“(Y/N) comes and goes. It’s hard for her to stay in one place for to long. When her and Azriel first mated he was around for a long time, a valuable member of the inner circle. About 60 years ago her younger sister went missing, she just disappeared one day. Little Sarah, was just a mere 16 years old—much younger than all of us. We never found her,” Rhys pauses, taking a deep breath. “(Y/N) can’t let it go. She won’t stay here long before she has to go back out and we let her go and just hope she’ll return home with her sister one day.”

“Oh, gods,” Feyre gasps, knowing if it were her sisters she would never stop looking either. “I can’t say I blame her. But 60 years? (Y/N) still has hope her sister is out there?”

That is silent, his eyes flicking down to the floor and Feyre feel a tug on their bond. A sad thing and she frowns.

“You all think she is?” She asks and Rhy sighs

“Honestly? I don’t know. I feel like anything is possibly until we know otherwise. Best case scenario she’s found and returned home. Worst case scenario we find out she’s…gone and we avenge her death in any way we can.”

“You all must have really loved her?” Feyre breaths, grasping her mate's hand.

“(Y/N)’s mother died giving birth to little Sarah. (Y/N) and Azriel raised her here in the House of Wind—we all did. When she was lost…it was devastating. We searched endlessly for years before we had to make the decision to stop. (Y/N) stopped for 3 years and stayed here with Azriel but she soon became restless. She needed answers about her sister and she couldn’t find them here. It was a hard day when she decided to leave. Azriel almost went with her but she talked him out of it, telling him he needed to stay here. He sees her more than we do of course, he’ll travel to her when he can. She only pops in here once in a blue moon, I think it’s too painful for her to come home to where she raised that child and not have her here.” Rhys explains, emotional and sympathetic. The loss of a friend and a child had to have been hard on them all.

“I hope to meet her one day, she seems lovely,” Feyre offers, and Rhys violet eyes meet hers lovingly.

“You two will be quick friends, just like you and Mor,” Rhys grins, and Feyre makes it a mental point to talk to Azriel—to check in on her friend knowing the situation he’s in is not an easy one to deal with.

——————————

2 Weeks Later

I slid through the shadows of the familiar halls I knew so well. I could hear voices and laughter drifting down the corridors and smirked to myself. Everyone was here, perfect. I looked up winnowing myself into the rafters, tucking my wings tightly and letting my body shift further into the shadows as it moved closer and closer to them.

Five people sitting around a dining table—only one missing. Food and wine scattered about as they talked and laughed. I grinned, lifting my shield just enough to let the shadows and house know someone was here before concealing myself completely again, watching as the three males at the table instantly became alerted to the presence of an unknown guest.

Mutterings of someone being in the house started and I laughed to myself jumping to another rafter. I half lifted my shield again, jumping to another rafter, all heads snapping above. Continuing until I was above one specific Illyrian before dropping down—gasps and shouts echoed around the room as I landed on his shoulders, shadows trying to wiggle past my shield to fight off the threat before I completely lifted it. Grinning down at my mate as I crouched on his shoulders.

“Long time no see,” I told him sweetly, bending down to kiss him.

“(Y/N)!” He exclaimed, reaching around to grab me and pull me into his arms.

Those shouts and exclamations turned into ones of my name and I laughed as my family gathered around prying me away from Azriel so they could get hugs of their own.

“You always did like to make a dramatic entrance,” Rhys grinned and I laughed as I hugged him, the second to last person standing around me.

I turned my attention to the female standing next to him hugging her as well, knowing exactly who she was.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Feyre,” I said, pulling back to look between her and Rhy. “I’ve heard so much about you from Az. I’m honored to finally meet you. I apologize for waiting so long to officially meet you.”

I take a step back, letting my mate envelop me in his arms once again.

“Oh, no apologies necessary, I’m glad you’re here now,” Feyre smiled warmly—her energy warm and inviting. “Will you be joining us?”

“Only for a bit before I drag my mate away,” I grinned up at him, the others around us laughing.

“I might drag you away first,” He growled, shadows tangling around us making me laugh.

The others snickered and made lewd jokes as they dispersed back towards the table.

My chair next to Azriel’s was waiting for me. I sit and his shadows twirl around me lovingly as he fixes a plate for me—a glass of wine appearing in front of me at the snap of Rhy’s fingers. I grin at him happily snatching the glass up and downing half of it in a large sip.

The night is wonderful, I’m seated next to Rhy who’s at the head of the table, Feyre on his other side and directly in front of me. I enjoy getting to know her—Rhy’s mate. They fit together so well. I enjoy catching up with cassian and Mor, oh how I missed her. I was endlessly happy to be back with my family.

———————

The Next Day

I woke up before the sun rose. I didn’t sleep much the night before. After Azriel and I dragged one another out of the dining room and to our shared quarters we made love over and over again to make up for time spent apart.

I had missed him so much. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, how he would stroke my wings, his scent, the way his shadows would caress my body as he slowly took me apart with his mouth and fingers before filling me up and our silent communication—a bond only mated pairs know. It was always the perfect feeling, being with him after so long.

I couldn’t sleep though, I hadn’t slept well in this house in decades. So, I got up and dressed, kissed Azriel’s forehead and headed out into the dim hallway. I made my way to the training deck, I needed to burn off some of my pent up energy—to my surprise Feyre was standing there, hands wrapped and a few strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

“High Lady,” I grinned as our eyes met, a pretty smile spreading across her own lips—she really was as beautiful as everyone said.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake,” She says, pushing the hair off of her forehead.

“I don’t sleep well here,” I shrug and she nods, a look of understanding in her eyes that lets me know she knows why.

“Would you care for a morning spar?” She asks, gesturing to the opening.

“Oh hell yeah,” I nod excitedly.

We spar for hours. She’s good. I can tell she was trained by the boys—but I was able to teach her a few moves of my own. She caught on quick too—putting me on my ass only after a few tries of each move.

We bantered back and forth, playful jabs of sarcasm. It was nice. I used to love sparring with Mor, too…back when I was around long enough to actually train with her that is.

“Do you yield, high lady?” I sneer mockingly, dagger pressed under her chin as I straddle her chest, knees on her elbows pinning her effectively.

I’m keenly aware when there’s a presence of another but I don’t let it distract me, my attention focused on the woman under me.

“No,” She grunts, bucking hard enough to throw me off, sending the dagger tumbling from my hand. She’s on top of me then, forearm pressed against my throat. “Do you yield, (Y/N)?”

I tap the ground three times watching her grin form before she slides off of me, sitting to my left, both of us breathless. I let my eyes find him then, standing there arms across his chest looking gorgeous in the early morning sun—I can’t help but smile at him.

“I’ll give you two a few minutes,” Feyre says with a knowing smirk, pushing up and heading inside past Azriel with a smirk in his direction, too.

As soon as we’re alone he’s on me. Hands, mouth and shadows on every inch of skin he can get to. It wasn’t the worst way to finish off the morning.

Breaking apart only when Rhys called us inside, an urgency in his voice I hadn’t heard in a very long time.

An urgency that had every instinct in my body on alert.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Paradise Itself - A Thor/Reader Smut Short.

A little smutty gift for my lovely @jemmalynette, and all you other Thor girls, too!

Words - 785

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

When he’s been gone, it builds up in you, the need for him, the craving, the desire.  

How can it not? Your love is Thor, a god of a man, a feast for the eyes, the heart and all of the senses, too.  

Needless to say, he hungers for you just as much when you’re parted, the urgency of that shown when he returns, making everything that burns golden in the bedroom with you his first priority. 

That evening, he begins by wrapping you in the sanctuary of his huge arms, loving kisses scattered, the removal of your clothes down to the finest of arts. He makes you feel truly worshipped, hands and mouth gliding over your flesh, provoking an almost feral keening for him. Beneath his bulk, you rise and fall gently like a wave against the warmth of him, his fingers moving to part the petals of your sex, fingers snaking inside of you.  

He kisses the gasps that fall from your lips, your body bucking against his hand as his fingers root deep, his thumb rubbing sensations of bliss at your clit. “You feel like paradise itself around my fingers, my love.” he sighs, mouth claiming yours again, drinking back your little cries like wine. He can feel you keening for him, his cock flushed dark as it bobs against your thigh, hissing a breath when you reach for him, stroking that sublime hardness as you guide him to your streaming folds.  

“Please, Thor.”  

He chuckles, his head dipping to suck your nipples in turn. “Who am I to make my lady wait,” he groans, moving his fingers to slowly sink into the velvet clasp of you, mouth pressing to yours. 

Those gentle ministrations eventually culminate in him having you rested against a stack of pillows, your legs over his shoulders, cock cutting through the silk of your cunt while you roll your hips up into him to ensnare those final few delicious inches of his thick erection. He groans carnivorously, hands all over you in reacquaintance, clasping your face, fingers grazing your neck and squeezing your breasts before finally settling at your bum, lifting you off the bed a little, deepening your join. 

God, it’s pure heavenly bliss.    

You’re pressed against him so tightly, your clit rubs against his abs as you grind the length of his cock, sending lustful tingles through your body, making you jolt and quake ardently, panting against his mouth. His thickness drags your walls deftly, lips at your neck, fucking you assiduously, charging towards your complete undoing.   

It’s unbridled, passionate, have-to-have-you sex, his cock hitting your summit as you flutter around him, the lewd sound of him cutting through your wetness filling the room, along with your mutual heavy breathing.   

Your cunt clenches on him, sparks crackling through you as the heat of him cuts right through to the marrow of you, hard and unrelenting. He steals your cries with sumptuous, hungry kisses, knowing you’re close, reaching between you to thumb your slick across your bud, sparks skittering through you, lightening bouncing beneath his touch as he fucks your release into you. 

He gives you a little time, slowing down, leaning to kiss you as his hardness slips slowly in and out of your softly clenching centre. That gentleness, though, it doesn’t last for long. He arrows into you so deeply, your breasts bounce, your nipples becoming his focal point as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as the pebbled pink peaks are further furled in the warmth of his mouth. He has you moaning soft and sweet, your nails flexing at his shoulders as he assaults your walls with deep, hard thrusts, momentum gathering, containment abandoned. 

“Come undone one more time for me. I know you can, my little dove.” he groans, assailing you wantonly, wanting to drag it from you, make you crest once more. 

He’s heavy within you, coaxing sparks from your fluttering walls, hot breaths whirring against your cleavage before his mouth claims yours once more and you drink back the groan that pours from his lips, your insides twisting pleasantly as you feel him shudder against you.   

Pleasure fizzes through you, everything feeling incredible in its intensity once more, your sun blazing over his horizon for a second time, your cries helpless, your flutters around him milking his cock as he shatters within you.  

Dreamy contentment rolls over you both, Thor moving to rest at your side and wrap you in his arms. His hands stroke you, loving whispers uttered, stroked into a blissful sleep. A rest well earned, after what you’ve just shared. Satiating the appetite of the god of thunder isn’t for the faint of heart.  

[sugarprincessbitch]

Hi! I saw that you are open for solicitations, so…. How about yandere! Tyrion who is in love with Reader? She is just so sweet and kind, she doesn't understand much about politics, but she makes her effort. She is (unfortunately) engaged against her will to a nasty lord, what would Tyrion do? Headcannons, please

WARNING: Mentions of Yandere aspects, manipulation, death and killing

It was another boring day at court on the Red Keep, Tyrion had taken the place deceased Ned Stark had taken as the hand of the King...this king being his stupid nephew Joffrey. He was with the other advisors hearing Cersie ranting demands like always and dear Joffrey making additions to his mother's no senses.

Tyrion was like always, drowning in his cup of wine, trying to zone out his sister's annoying high pitch voice. He decided to observe the people in the room, he saw the same long and boring faces of the lords, but when he put his piercing gaze on Cersie direction...he saw a young maiden standing uncomfortable behind the Queen, he had never seen her before or never cared too much to notice. She peaked his attention...he had seen young noble maidens flocking around his sister, but the difference is how she didn't recoil while looking at his horrible face or his odd short limbs.

...

It is a matter well known that Tyrion is terrible at anything that matters the problems of the heart...we know from the books and the series, mostly the books, that he had troublesome relationships with women in his life. He tends to be naturally possessive and protective of the woman he holds affection for, so if he was a Yandere...he will be a dangerous one.

He can seem calm and collected on the exterior, but he is an animal waiting to snap, for something he is the son of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion will appeal to be passive aggressive to a possible threat for his darling affection, or even recurring to send men to kill them, but only if this person is a minor lord or a commoner.

Tyrion doesn't have to his advantage beauty or natural charm to attract his darling, but he has his cunning mind...that will help manipulating her. I think he will guilt trip her, using his disability at favour.

If his darling was not a noble lady, he will try to use his power and financial position to charm her, if the first doesn't work then he will threaten her with it. He may be a mockery in his family, but he still has the Lannister blood running from his veins and their money in his pockets.

But we will suppose that the darling is a noble lady of a not such an important house, then he will have complications at the time of having her in his grasp fully. Because there are norms on how a lady has to handle themselves and also a social expectation of courting and marriage, he will not only have to gain his darling affection but also the favour of her father.

It will be more troublesome if her darling is engaged with another Lord, this will send him to a furious pit and he will start to plan the downfall of the poor bastard that decided to get on his way.

Tyrion will probably try to coerce his darling father to change his mind and choose him as a possible bachelor, maybe he is a dwarf, but he comes from an important house and also he is currently in a very prestigious position, the hand of the king.

If this doesn't work (that I think it will probably go this way) he will convince his darling that he is better than an old hag, he will treat her kindly and with the utmost respect. Also, he will start courting his darling and showering her in costly jewelry and refined dresses.

When he finally has her on his grasp, convinced that he is the better suitor for her and not his future husband, he will fall upon his "enemy" with everything he has. Clearly, sending his men to kill silently that Old lord his darling was engaged with, claiming that it died from his frail and old age, natural causes.

The sudden death of his darling suitor and the pressure he will put not only financially but also using his position on the court so your lord father has no other option than to marry you to him.

Now, he finally has you for himself... And you know what they say, the preserverants win at the end.