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kleem-o · 10 months

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Dragon hybrid!Bakugou x Reader

part 2

Synopsis: You and Bakugou are now getting used to life together. Will you finally find out that he sees you as his mate? As you both roam the festival will you both know each other’s true feelings? Be careful though danger lurks around the corner. Warning; nsfw? Part 2 to this

Wc: 1.9k

A/N: Hii! Thank you all for the support!! Here’s part 2 sorry it took so long lol I just finished with my school work. Hope you enjoy!

You were sleeping peacefully, dreaming lightly, when you felt something soft nudge your cheeks. “Wake..up” You groaned as a complaint and turned the other way to continue your soothing slumber. “Wake up” Now you feel someone laying on top of you, soft clouds tickling your neck. You start giggling and slowly open your eyes. It was Bakugou, cuddling on top of you, forcing you to wake up. He started playfully biting shoulder, then started giving kitten licks on your jaw. “I’m up! I’m up” You laughed as you continued feeling ticklish by Bakugou’s playful licks and bites. “Ab..out time..” Bakugou huffed and pouted as he helped you get started on the day.

Your day with Bakugou usually started with eating together. You would usually be the one cooking, but lately Bakugou began to enjoy cooking. He would always take the ingredients from you and start cooking. You offered many times to help, even in cutting the vegetables but he would simply dismiss you and say “Too danger..ous.. I cook.” He would make little explosions in his hand to start the fire, and you never fail to stare in awe. When eating he would look at you expectantly, and you would always praise his cooking “Mmmm! The flavors are melting on my tongue! You’re really great at cooking Bakugou!” He would blush at your words and shyly avoid looking at you while he ate his food. “Eat.. well.”

After eating, you both would do your chores, while you used to go look for food, he would now do it in your stead. When he comes back after hunting and foraging, he would immediately go to your side to help you in whatever you were doing. “Let me.. Help” He would say as he tries to get the sheets you were washing from your hands “Nooo! Its okay Bakugou! I can do this okay? You already went hunting for us” But he is ever so stubborn and still helps you by washing the remaining sheets and clothes. As you were washing sheets on a basin, looking at the bubbles gave you an idea. You took a bit of the soap foam bubbles and suddenly placed it on top of his nose. The look of confusion he gave you, as if you were going crazy, made you laugh loudly. He looked at you as if you grew two heads, he removed the bubbles on his nose, and placed some on yours. You continued laughing and he looked at you confused before slowly chuckling himself. “Weird Y/N”

After your chores, you both would prepare for your little study session. Ever since Bakugou became part of your home, you would teach him how to read, write, and speak your language. It was admittedly difficult at first, but he learns fast and soon enough you could talk to him with ease. Although there are still words he doesn’t know and he still finds some words difficult to say due to his dragon tongue. “Y/N..what is.. This.?” You would teach him the things he didn’t know, and if you had questions about him, he did his best to answer. “Umm so Bakugou.. That time we met, why were you..hurt?” He looked up to you “I.. don’t remember”

“Oh.. I’m sorry.”

“Its okay”

“Well, where did you come from Bakugou?”

“Somewhere far”

“Do you want to go back to your home?”

He looked you in the eye and said in a gentle yet serious tone “You are my home” You blushed at his words and quickly returned to writing stuff for him. After your little session with him, you would eat then take a bath separately. You started taking baths separately ever since you saw his.. Well you know. After the fresh bath, it's off to bed for both of you. Though you both took a bath already, he would snuggle real close to you and begin rubbing himself on you. At first you found it weird, but it was oddly relaxing so you just let him do his thing. Little did you know he was actually scenting you. And just like that both of you would fall asleep in each other's arms.

This was now the routine for both of you daily. Today while you were both studying, basking in the comfortable silence surrounding both of you, you suddenly got an idea. “Bakugouu” you say as you lean on his arm. He turned to you blushing slightly “What..?” You smiled at him and asked “Would you like to go to the village with me? There will be a festival there tonight! Lots of delicious food, pretty lights, fun games.. Oh! And there will be a firework display!”

“Fire..work..??”

“It's basically some pretty fire in the sky!... i think.. Anyway, it seems fun and you’ve never been to the village before.. So what do you say?”

Bakugou seemed to think about it for a while. “Oh but if you’re not comfortable with it then its okay! I’ll make sure to bring you back some good stuff” He looked lost at thought then finally spoke “Would they not be.. sc.ared of me..?” He looked at you with puppy eyes and you swore you felt your heart skip a bit. “Hmm.. well I can’t speak for everyone..haha..” “You were sc-ar..ed of me..” “Well yeah! You were going to attack me!” ”...S..orry..”

You suddenly felt bad, you knew that he was probably just trying to protect himself “hey.. Don’t feel too bad it wasn’t your fault” “I’ll go.. I want to go.. To fes..tivul" “Oh great!! Don’t worry I’ll protect you okay” You raised your arm to flex your non-existent muscles and Bakugou laughed. He thinks that you are the most fragile thing in the world. You both were preparing to go to the village, Bakugou told you that he didn’t want others to know that he was a dragon hybrid so you went and gave him a long haori to hide his tail. You told him that the others will just think of his horns as a headpiece as others would be wearing masks and such. You both went to the village and Bakugou was stunned by the beautiful lights and cheery people. You went to some food booths and bought food for the both of you. “Here say ahhh!” He looked at you before opening his mouth and you fed him. He was very flustered but it went away quickly as he tasted the food you gave him “it..s good.” As you both ate he made a mental note to remember the spices and tastes to improve his cooking.

You both roamed around the festival and found a good and secluded place to sit to watch the fireworks. As you both were waiting for the fireworks Bakugou knew that this would be the time to tell you, his mate, what he feels for you. Slowly he held your face to look at him. “Hmm? What's wrong?” He looked at you, his eyes serious with a glint of softness for you. “I…need to tell you s..omething.” You felt your heart race as you looked at him, a soft blush engulfing your features.

“I like you.. No I love you.. mate” He said as he gently smiled. The way he held you was like you were the most precious thing in the world, and to him, you were. You both looked at each other for a while, he suddenly felt nervous because you weren’t responding, did you not like him back? Was he just imagining all the soft touches between the two of you? The gentle words and the soft looks? Just as he was about to pull away you suddenly moved. You came closer and closer to him.. Barely any space between the two of you.

“I love you too”

You closed the space between the two of you with a soft kiss. Bakugou closed his eyes and deepened the kiss.

His hands tangled in your hair, your hands holding onto his broad shoulders. Soft moans were coming from the both of you. He pulled you in closer and you let yourself be engulfed in his warmth. You felt his tongue drag across your bottom lip, asking for access. You opened your mouth and his tongue explored yours. You felt lightheaded, as if everything was melting. The kiss was getting passionate, too much if you suppose, as both your tongues fought for dominance, his long tongue winning for sure, a low growling coming from him. You were getting handsy as your hands went to his chest. He pulled you on top of his lap and started grinding you on his hardening length. You were beginning to moan loudly and his growling and purring got louder as well. You pulled away from the passionate kiss, a string of saliva connecting both of you, panting, you said “Bakugou please..” He growled and made you lie down then-

Boom

Bakugou looked up in surprise and covered your body to protect you. It was the fireworks. You giggled and told him that it was harmless “Look Bakugou! Look at all the pretty colors!” He slowly looked up and saw what seemed to be dancing colors in the dark sky. He looked in awe as it was his first time seeing it. You hugged him while you both watched the sky. “Let’s come here at every festival okay?” “hmm” Bakugou hummed in approval as he watched the sky. He turned to look at you and kissed your cheeks. “You.. prettiest” You laughed and said “You mean prettier?” “No, prettiest” You blushed and knew right then, Bakugou has your entire heart and soul.

The walk back home was very comforting as you both held hands, his thumb caressing yours. You couldn’t stop thinking about what happened earlier and what would happen if the fireworks didn’t take both of you in surprise. You wondered what this meant for both of you from now on. Would things between you change? Little did you know Bakugou also couldn’t stop thinking about the events earlier. He cursed himself for being startled by the pretty lights in the sky. But now that both of you knew each others’ feelings, Bakugou knew that he was yours and you were his. You were now both laying down on the bed and cuddling, your head on his chest while he played with your hair. Surprisingly after what happened earlier you both weren’t doing anything naughty. “Bakugou?” “Ye..ss mate?” You blushed at the name. “Since, I’m your mate now.. Is there anything else that I should know? Like, what dragons do and stuff?” Bakugou thought about it for a while. “Nothing for now.. I tell you when time come..s” Bakugou had already thought about all the things he had to teach and prepare you for, his heat isn’t coming yet, but you had to be ready to take all of him in. At first he was wary if you wanted him, but after what happened earlier he got reassured. You weren’t scared of him anymore. You both drifted to sleep waiting excitedly for the next days to come.

“Hmm..?” You were disturbed from your sleep by sounds coming outside. You checked if Bakugou was awake and to your surprise he was still asleep. Usually he was first to notice these types of things. You hesitantly got up, still tired and sleepy, to go and check the sounds outside. As you stepped outside and looked there was nothing there. You were about to go back inside when someone hit you at the back of your head. You fell down, the last thing you saw were people entering your home. You had to warn Bakugou! But as you tried to open your mouth your eyes felt heavy. You lay on the ground unconscious.

Here is Part 3 !

A/N: heyy!! Thanks for bearing with me lol i think this chapter was too long but i hope you enjoyed it! I almost went straight ahead with the smut lol i’ll probably be making another part since if i included the next events this part might get too long. Thank u all for waiting and thank u for the support!! Feel free to ask!

taglist: @pyromaniacslove @misscaller06 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic

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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year

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Of Flowers & Dragons

Summary: Your daughter wants a sibling and makes it everyone’s problem.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff. Dad Aemond.

Word count: 1k

Part II

“I want a sibling!”

The high-pitched voice echoed across the room, quickly followed by a shriek that reverberated through your head like a dagger, jolting you awake at once.

You peered down through hazy eyes at your daughter of six who was stomping angrily across the carpeted floor, strands of silver hair shooting from her head in all sorts of weird and messy angles.

“I apologise, my lady,” the young servant breathed out, rushing behind the young child. “She would not heed my words.”

“It’s quite alright,” you said with a nod. “You may leave.”

She was a dragon through and through: hot tempered and demanding.

It had taken her father long years to keep that explosiveness at bay and you reckoned you would still encounter many of these outbursts before she’d finally settle.

She halted by the feet of your bed, mustering the most menacing expression, violet eyes alternating between you and her sleeping father.

“Jaelan ziry sir, kepa!”

Even in your broken High Valyrian you could make out a demand aimed at her father.

She didn’t just want a sibling. She wanted it now.

The bedsheets shifting beside you alerted you that Aemond Targaryen was finally awake.

“Do not scream,” you scolded before a yawn slipped past your lips. “Come here.”

Your daughter didn’t need to be told twice as she promptly climbed up the bed and crawled in between the two of you before plopping herself down with a huff.

Aemond rolled to his side with the groan of someone who had just been robbed of the peace and quiet that usually came with early mornings.

“Could this not have waited, tala?” he said.

“Daor,” she shook her head, sticking out her bottom lip in a defiant pout, crossing both arms. “I want a sibling now.”

Aemond turned his head to face her, his sapphire eye uncovered. “It would have to wait.”

She brought both hands to his long hair and twisted a few strands into unruly braids, not able to conceal her frustration.

“A day?”

You nearly chuckled at her remark. “A day? It would take many moons, my love.”

“But kepa said I came from Old Valyria… on dragonback…” she whispered, turning her eyes to meet yours. “Dragons are fast… maybe two days?” she beamed, hope coating her sweet voice.

You sighed heavily. “Aemond…”

“She caught me off guard, lady wife,” he said truthfully while gazing at his daughter. “What was I to say?”

“Now you have the opportunity to resolve this,” you smiled teasingly as his eye widened.

“What is it?” she spoke up before Aemond could. “When do I get a new sibling, kepa?”

Aemond was a master at concealing his emotions, but even in that moment, his composure faltered, as he realised his young and stubborn daughter would not back down.

Heaving a deep sigh, he detached her tiny hands from his hair and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him in a heartwarming display of affection.

“Remember those flowers you adore so much, byka zaldrīzes?” he lowered his voice as he spoke into her ear. “The one that uncle Daeron brought from Oldtown?”

Your heart fluttered in delight. Aemond calling her little dragon would never not make you emotional. Witnessing the young prince embracing the bond with his daughter was a privilege few could claim.

Her lilac eyes narrowed as she pondered for a moment. “Hmm. Yes! Moonbloom,” she nodded with a proud smile.

“Moonbloom, yes,” Aemond said, bringing one finger to brush away strands of silver hair that covered her face. “He brought a few seeds that we later placed in several vases.”

She nodded eagerly, eyes never tearing away from him.

“And what happened to those seeds?”

She wiggled her legs in anticipation, visibly enjoying the enticing questions from her father that read as a game just between the two of them.

“We got a few tiny plants!” she beamed, giggling and jerking her body as Aemond tickled her.

“And then…”

She froze in place, gasping dramatically. “… then… we got flowers!”

Aemond chuckled. “Sȳrje. Very well,” he praised as he planted a soft kiss to her forehead. “That is how you came to be.”

Scrunching her nose, she narrowed her inquisitive eyes. “I came from a… vase of flowers?”

You were a mere spectator, enjoying how Aemond handled such delicate matter, not able to hold back the wide grin on your face.

“Daor. I planted a seed inside your mother,” he said as he brought his hand to your stomach. “Here.”

Your daughter turned her head, eyes landing where his hand lay. “How did I get there?”

Aemond cleared his throat, staring at you in a silent plea.

“You are handling this perfectly, lord husband,” you said, placing your fingers atop his with a smile.

“So mother is a vase of flowers?” she inquired, confusion washing over her face.

Aemond’s lips curled into a soft smile. “You could say so.”

Her eyes widened incredulously as she brought her own tiny hand to your belly in sheer fascination.

“I’m a flower?”

The endearing conclusion she had drawn, had your heart clench.

“Iksā iā rūklon,” Aemond said with a nod. “Se iā zaldrīzes.”

“Woah!” she gasped in uncontrolled excitement, shooting her eyes to yours. “I’m a flower and a dragon, muña!”

You gave her the warmest smile. “The most delicate flower and the fiercest dragon.”

She got on her knees, bouncing on the bed with newfound enthusiasm.

“When are you planting another flower in mother?” she grinned expectantly at Aemond who groaned and sank into his pillow.

Part II

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd imagine #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #dad aemond

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yandere-wishes · 6 months

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Hot Take

But has anyone ever stopped to think about the Damsel in Distress? Has anyone ever considered the feelings of the princess locked away in a tower? We all like to make fun of the Damsel in Distress trope but has anyone in the last 100 years stopped to think about how she feels? How worthless she thinks she is because she can't get herself out of that dreaded tower. She can't save herself, she's powerless, and as much as we like to mock her for that. We overlook how this powerlessness becomes such an overwhelming sensation inside of her. So many "if onlys…" swirling around in her head. If only she was as strong as the dragon that captured her. If only she was as cunning as the prince that promised to save her. If only she had a fraction of the combat abilities of the knights. If only, if only.

Not to mention how lonely she must feel and how nerve-wracking it is waking up every day wondering if everyone you ever knew-ever loved- has forgotten you. she's been told to wait for a prince or a knight or some dashing stranger. A harbinger of true love…but what if they never come? What if they have more important things to do than rescue her? The long hours spent in a quiet room with a monotonous view. Withering around in self-loathing on the brink of another panic attack. It's enough to drive anyone crazy.

There's also the part of NOT being able to save herself. She's not cunning enough, not brave enough, not strong enough. And maybe she is, maybe she's all those things but her self-doubt and pity have trapped her in a constant web of "can't".

She can't save herself

She isn't worth being rescued

She's nothing

Destined to rot away in the tower.

And then when/if she is rescued it's borderline impossible to readjust to society. All those years of being utterly alone make it painfully difficult to be around people. She can't read social cues or even understand what half the people are talking about. She misses the tower, the isolation, and the quiet. Yet never wants to return to it. You can forget about her making friends, everyone seems to avoid her, deeming her less because she was captured in the first place. Whispering behind her back about how 'they' would have saved themselves. Or how their heroes would have come to save them so much faster than hers did. Even the king and queen are rigid around her. Not knowing how to act or what to say, but growing increasingly more vexed at her ineptitude to "be normal" again. Our poor princess is convinced she'll always be alone, fated to a life of misery.

Oh, and let's not forget the nightmares. The terrors of the tower crept out of her subconscious each night. Tormenting her when she dares to close her eyes. The endless hallways and countless rooms filled with nothing. The feeling of the cold bricks under her bare feet as she wandered the corridors in a haze of boredom and anxiety. The dragon's there too, sharp teeth on display ready to bite and burn her at the slightest defiance. She can feel his embers tickling her arm. The markings of his claws on her cheek throbbing. She can't rember how many scars he left. How many open wounds that healed wrong.

She woke up screaming that night, just like the three nights before that. Waking up the whole castle. It's fellow residents irritated at her nightly "antics". She stopped sleeping after that. The days aren't much better

the constant feeling that what originally dragged her into that tower is coming after her again, is always at the forefront of her mind. She's skittish, reserved. The queen still doesn't understand why her daughter refuses to be touched. Rejecting every hug she tries to give her. The king can't comprehend why the princess barely talks, stuttering out what few words she utters.

The whole kingdom is gossiping. Repulsed by what their so-called princess has become. The dragon has been vanquished, the tower toppled. Move on. Little do they know both terrors still live on within her. Not to mention their constant negative views of her only feed her self-hatred all the more.

"Why can't the princess just be normal…"

Poor princess, forever trapped, wither by the dragon, the tower, the kingdom…or herself.

No, seriously I think the damsel in distress is one of the most heartbreaking self-reflecting tropes ever made.

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evidoliscomming · 1 year

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ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ Princess Helaena Targaryen ㅤㅤ

〝 Though perchance you’d prefer gold.” Princess Helaena said distractedly, “To bring forth your spirit.〞

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ Lady Baela Targaryen

〝Except the moon and sun aren’t supposed to fly in the sky together! It’s day and night! It’s an eclipse of my dreams and it’s not poetic; it’s a bad omen!〞

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ Lady Hariel Potter

〝There’s no one here. I can’t sit in lord Wylde’s empty chair? This isn’t the Iron Throne.〞

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤLady Rhaena Targaryen

〝Whilst you’re the rider of the fierce Moondancer. Don’t you think there’s something poetic in that, sister? It will be the union of the Sun and Moon.〞

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤNever tickle a sleeping dragon by QuillQ

Hello there! And I came back with another aesthetic, it occurred to me after chapter 28 to make a moadboard together with them because they are like the most curious core in history in some way and so different that I wanted to encourage myself to do it but I must admit that this cost me, really Coordinating these four has been a bit complicated for me and when the next one came out I wanted to add Ellyn but since it was already costing me and when she finally came out I didn't have time to add her but I hope at some point to do five to get the urge. I hope you like it and as always thank you for so much sorry for so little have a good day 💜🤍 @quill-q

#Never tickle a sleeping dragon #female harry potter #au #woman of westeros

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quill-q · 1 year

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Hello here! Yes, I came here again, sorry, but this time I come with a question, and what name do you think the Targaryens would have given Norbert? If you can and want you can put how each one would have been called (as each one would have chosen) or in general.

Well… Hm... That’s a fun question, and one I had to consider for a while. Some of the Targaryen dragons are named after old Valyrian Gods (Balerion, Vhagar etc.) but they seemed to run out of Gods to name after, since there's so many named from descriptive words, like with Quicksilver/Silverwing/Moondancer/Dreamfyre/Sunfyre, and then there’s the dragons who’s named after a Valyrian word, such as Morghul=death.

Soooo…. The closest thing to a direct translation of the name Norbert (which means Northern Brightness) would be Jelmōñe (northern) + Albie (bright) =Jelmōñealbie, but that’s waaay too much of a mouthful, and I’m not sure how one would mesh those words together properly. Maybe just Albie? Sounds almost like Albert… Or Albus. Lol.

It could also be some variation of ‘Moonfyre’ (for the pale blue fire).

Though ironically enough, I think the most likely name would be based on a feature that's unique about her, which means there's a strong possibility Norbert would've ended up named: “Horntail”. And you know, I don't hate it x)

#ask box #norbert #never tickle a sleeping dragon #dragons

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loverofazul · 8 months

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𝑯𝒖𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 Pt.7

-ＤｉａｓｏｍｎｉａＤｏｒｍ-

Malleus could feel his heart warming up at the soft touches you were giving him. His skin warmed up at the touches easily, never feeling such affection from someone before.

"You truly are a mystery, Human" The dragon mumbled against your forehead, arms circling around your waist.

With a hum, you easily placed a kiss against the males neck. "You are the same, My Dear"

Lilia couldn't help but giggle as you placed little kisses against his neck. Your lips ticked his skin with each kiss you peppered on him. With another giggle, the tiny male brought his lips to your forhead--placing his own kiss there.

"Love you sooooo much, My little Fruit!" He cooed, burryng his nose into your hair.

Giggling at his tickles as he ran his fingers down your sides, you cooed back. "Love you soooo much as well, My Bat King!"

Silver could barely keep his eyes open as he lay on your stomach. A yawn left his mouth once more, his hands clutching onto the fabric of your clothes. They were soft and comfortable, a good pillow with your warmth.

"Love.....you" He mumbled, eyes fluttering close, his mind finally succumbing to sleep.

Running your hands through his hair, you mumbled back. "Love you as well, My Sleeping Beauty"

Sebek couldnt help the stiffness in his muscles as he laid rigid. Your head was rested on his chest, your hands gripping onto his biceps. His body heating up as he felt your fingers rubbing against his skin.

Letting out a shaky breath, the male tensely wrapped his arms around your form. "I.....I love you-you...."

"Love you too Darling, thanks for doing this with me" You mumbled sleepily, snuggling further into his chest.

Gulping, the male answered shakily once more. "Of-Of course"

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dateko · 8 months

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˚｡⋆ GLITTER AND GIGGLES | GETO SUGURU

contents: domestic fluff brain rot, papa!geto with the twins, tatted!geto, reader and suguru are married, & suguru being the best dad even though it is written quite poorly

“I’m home!” You announce as you enter the house, feet screaming as you kick off your heels.

Surprisingly, no one greets you back. The absence of the familiar rumble of footsteps that usually storm toward you causes you to frown. There isn’t a pair of mischievous twins that wait for you at the top of the stairs, nor is there a handsome husband dressed in an apron telling you that he’s missed you all day. You deflate at this, but your ears pick up the lovable sound of hushed giggles coming from the living room.

You creep up the steps gingerly, careful not to disrupt whatever fun the girls seem to be having. And that’s when you see it. There, splayed all over your ridiculously expensive rug that is now littered with markers and glitter glue, is your husband. Your two girls occupy his sides, hovering over his bare back with busy hands.

“Girls?” You break their playful trance, and they turn to each other before you with wide eyes. “What are you two doing?”

Mimiko attempts to gather the markers into her arms as a stuttering Nanako waves her hands in your face, doing a very poor job at obscuring your view when her hands are so incredibly teeny. “Mommy! It’s nothing! We were just cleaning up.”

Your brow raises at this since you know well you didn’t raise a liar. Catching a glimpse of Suguru’s sleeping figure with his bare torso flat on the floor almost makes you think the two tired out their own father to death. But as you step closer, the sight almost makes you laugh out loud.

The tattoo of the rainbow dragon that trails down Suguru’s spine finally bears truth to its name. You’re not exactly sure where to look first. You follow the lines of pink and purple scribbled messily outside the inked lines, the loose glitter that sticks itself between the crevices of your husband’s back muscles, and the series of Sanrio stickers that wander down the side of his neck. It’s ridiculous, almost like a unicorn had vomited all over him, yet precious all at once.

Mimiko tugs at your sleeve. “Are you mad?”

Shaking your head with a smile, you pinch the little brunette’s cheek. “Hand me a marker.”

The girls giggle behind you as you kneel beside Suguru’s sleeping face. He’s gorgeous, always been, and always will be. Thought it was a shame you were about to ruin it. The marker in your hold draws an elaborate beard on his face, making sure to dance with a few swirls and twirls. You beam at how your canvas scrunches his nose, eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your marker gliding across his skin.

Suguru scratches his face before opening his eyes, blinking repeatedly at the moment he realizes you’re home. “Morning, beautiful.” You grin, tucking a piece of his dark locks behind his ear.

“Sweetheart,” He sits up immediately, unaware of the glitter that falls from his skin behind him. “I missed you.”

You decide against scolding your husband for falling asleep instead of watching your children when he leans in to seal a kiss on your lips, and you turn away, stifling a giggle. “Come on, no kiss?” Suguru pouts. “What’s so funny?”

“Papa, you look so weird.” Mimiko pips from behind you, trying to hide her laughter.

“You have something on your face, Papa!” Nanako adds, squealing when Suguru grabs her to tickle her stomach. The house is filled with an abundance of happy laughter once more, and you can feel your heart swell with contentment. Your husband extends his arm to you and Mimiko, a soft glint in his golden eyes. The expression on his face is delicate, yet he is still completely unaware of the ridiculous lines that paint his features. “Come over here, you two.”

Suguru beams as his three favorite girls pile on top of him, bubbles of joy bouncing off the walls every which way. You can’t help but finally kiss him. You could never resist Suguru, especially when he’s always been such a good husband and an exceptional father for the three of you. The wet smack you place on his lips causes the girls to grimace, trying to wiggle their way out of strong arms.

The twins scramble out of the living room and scurry off immediately. You stay in Suguru’s lap, hand tracing his collarbone and down his shoulders as he hugs you tighter. “Don’t think I’m letting you go without a punishment.” He teases, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?"

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow raises, unconvinced. “Well, I wouldn't be so sure. You look like Yaga right now.”

Your hands scramble to your chin as you gasp, noticing the black residue on your fingertips. Your husband watches you as you attempt to scrub off the black beard on your face with your sleeve. Rolling your eyes at his smirk, you give up. Grabbing both sides of his face, you kiss him once more. “Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart.”

#i did not edit or proofread or put much thought or care i just hit POST!!!! because i love suguru #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #suguru x reader #jjk

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 6.7k

Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'

🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.

You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.

The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.

“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.

“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”

Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.

Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’

“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.

“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”

Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”

‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”

Your brows twitched irritably.

Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.

“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.

Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.

“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”

“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.

Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.

“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.

You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”

Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.

“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”

“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”

Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.

“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”

And then you were gagged once more.

The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.

“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”

You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”

He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”

You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.

You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.

Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.

“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose.

“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.

Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.

“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”

His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.

And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—

Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.

Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.

You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.

‘Wait,’ that look said.

And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.

The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.

You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.

There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.

Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.

“What’s going on?!—”

With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.

And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.

With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.

“Not so fast, you little cretin.”

And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—

There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.

Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.

“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”

Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.

“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.

“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”

“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”

“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”

“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”

“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”

You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”

“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”

The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.

“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.

“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.

You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.

You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.

The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.

He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.

From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.

And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.

You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.

He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!

And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.

But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.

It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—

You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.

“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.

You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.

Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.

“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”

The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.

“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"

“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”

You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.

“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.

Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.

“What white teeth you have?” you tried.

He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.

You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.

And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.

Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.

You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.

A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.

Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.

He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.

“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”

The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.

And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.

You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.

You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.

“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”

“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”

“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”

When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.

“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.

You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.

“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.

“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.

“A what?”

“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”

You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.

“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”

“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”

He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.

“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”

Then why—

You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.

“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”

“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”

You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—' was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you.

“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”

You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.

“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”

“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”

Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”

“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”

“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”

You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.

“Uhm, hello?” you tried.

“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”

“It talks,” you blanched.

“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”

“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”

“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”

Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.

“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”

Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.

“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.

On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.

“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”

Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.

The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.

The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.

Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.

One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.

And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?

“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.

“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”

You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.

“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”

Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”

However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.

“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”

Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.

“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.

You shrugged.

“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”

Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”

The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.

“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”

There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—

“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.

And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.

But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.

“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”

“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?

“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”

[TAG LIST] CLOSED

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Silver Twst #Rollo Flamm #Slight Rollo Flamm x Reader #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 4

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hyperfixatedhyperstressed · 1 year

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A soft morning

Aemond awoke to the faint sounds of birds chirping on the balcony and outside the windows. With the curtains pulled shut, only slight cracks of light filtered through and left slivers of the golden morning light spreading around the room. Yet he could tell it was still early, well before time when servants would tap on the door and begin their morning tasks. To his side, you lay on your side facing him, hair fanned out haphazardly on the pillows. Your face was relaxed and gentle, soft breathes gently moving some pieces of hair hung over your face, which he delicately moved to tuck behind your ear, letting a finger trail along your cheekbone. A pillow was tucked underneath your swollen stomach, another resting behind your back and bracketing your body to provide some comfort while you slept; your hand was resting atop the swell while the other was still reached out across the bed from where you had a hold on his bicep throughout the night.

Turning to lie on his side, Aemond just remained watching you sleep, taking your outstretched hand in his own and holding it close to his chest. It was then that he felt a tugging at the blankets towards the end of the bed, little hands grasping and trying to find leverage and hurl themselves up. A quiet snort of a laugh left his mouth as he sat up and reached out, small fingers wrapping around his own as a head of white hair peaked over the top of the bed. Aemond pulled his arm up as he leaned back and returned to his lying down position. Your daughter, Shaera, crawled to sit atop his bare chest with a big smile across her face. White hair messy from sleep and still dressed in her nightgown, the 5 year old held a finger up to her lips upon seeing you still sleeping.

“Unlike you to wake so early, nuha byka zaldrizes.” Aemond reached to stroke down the wild hair on his daughters head, her hands batting him away. Little giggles left her mouth as she tried to scramble away gently, not trying to rock the bed too much and wake you. Aemond sat up and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest before lying on his side and holding her in between the two of you. Shaera’s hand outstretched to rest on Aemond’s cheek and grab ahold of a handful of his hair, pulling it gently close to her and she tossed it around to tickle his face, a smile coming to his face, his nose scrunching at her.

With his daughter pressed against his chest and pregnant wife beside them, Aemond could not invision a more picturesque moment, and one in which he never thought he would be able to have. You had given him the love and comfort he had always craved, and then blessed him with a child who was the spitting image of him. His daughter was his shadow, the little girl always accompanying her father, following him step for step. His Princess.

“When will the baby come, Kepa?” Shaera whispered to him, breaking Aemond from his thoughts. You had, still deep in your sleep, reached your hand out again and rested it on your daughters body, seemingly sensing her presence and wanting to hold her close; Aemond moved his own hand to cover yours.

“Soon, my little love, your sibling should be here any day now.”

“I want a sister, can she be a girl, kostilus Kepa?”

“We won’t know until they decide they’re ready to be born, it could be either a girl or a boy.” Aemond felt you moving more on the bed and knew that you’d be stirring from your sleep soon, “Your muna hopes for a boy, with hair just like yours, who she can dress up in reds and greens and golds.”

“What do you hope for Kepa, a boy or a girl?” Shaera wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled herself closer to him, tucking her head underneath his chin, snuggling into his warmth and taking in his comforting scent.

“I, like you, would like for another little Princess. As many as your mother agrees to bless me with, and a little prince eventually for your mothers sake.”

“More little dragons for you to spoil.” Your sleepy laugh came from beside the two Targaryen’s as you shifted the pillow out from underneath your stomach and moved closer to your husband and daughter. Shaera extended her other arm and slid it under your neck and pulled your head closer, your face coming close to Aemond’s as he pressed a soft greeting kiss to your mouth then the tip of your nose, “Something which I think this little dragon enjoys the sound of.” The movements and stretches of the babe within your stomach could be seen, your stomach moving and tapping against Shaera’s leg causing her to smile and sit up, pressing both hands firmly against where she saw movements. You and Aemond watched your daughter happily, you having moved your head to rest on Aemond’s temple, his own hand coming to rest softly on the top of the swell.

Aemond never invisioned having a moment like this, the light filtering in with the far away noises of Kings Landing faint in his ears. His daughter and wife lying against him with his unborn child, days from being born, locked away in your rooms in this moment of private familial calmness. Pressing another kiss to your cheek, Aemond felt completely at peace.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #pregnant!reader #aemond x pregnant!reader #dad aemond #girl dad

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arabellasleopardcoat · 3 months

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The dragon has three heads (Viserys x Reader x Daemon)

Summary: It's Viserys first day as King. You and your twin see him off.

A/N: We interrupt my scheduled hate of Viserys to bring you this. I thought it out when writing another request.

Warnings: Daemon x sister!Reader x Viserys to fulfill double penetration. So oral sex and vaginal sex plus Targcest.

Your limbs felt heavy. Your mind was sluggish and soft, still submerged in the waters of sleep. In and out you drifted, cradled gently in someone's arms. There was noise around you, movement. But your eyes remained closed because you knew you were safe.

A ticklish sensation on the sole of your feet made you pull it up, kneeing your pillow. The pillow made a hurt noise, and you scrunched up your face. You were not ready to wake up yet.

Your pillow shook. You looked up, blinking wearily. Daemon's eyes stared down at you. He was fighting laughter. The light inside your shared chambers was hitting him from behind, making his silver hair shine like a halo.

There was another tickle to your soles. You squirmed, and tried to hide under the sheets. You did not want to get up just yet.

“Come on. Up, sleepyheads.” Your brother's hand curled around your ankle, tugging. You whined more, clinging to your twin. “Won't the two of you see me off today?”

Daemon groaned. Now that Viserys was including him in his plans, he did not seem as amused by your plight. You echoed his noise. Viserys remained as cheerful as ever.

“Is that the way to address your King?” He teased, tickling the arch of your foot. You yipped and kicked the sheets away, letting you as naked as the day you were born.

“Thank the Gods that you are cute.” Viserys said, unbearably fond. Daemon stretched as well, fishing for his own compliments. He, too, was naked. “Both of you.”

You finally turned to face Viserys, finding him already dressed for the day. He even had his crown on. The reminder of your triumph made you smile. Though cousin Rhaenys had a stronger claim to the throne, Viserys was a man. A King always trumped a Queen. And you were the lucky woman who was married to him.

“Morning, brother.” You beamed at Viserys. He beamed right back.

Daemon pulled you closer, pressing his erection to your back.

“And what of your twin? Or are measly Princes no longer enough for you?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. Despite his playful words, you could feel Daemon's hesitation. It was Viserys first day as a King, and your first as his Queen. He probably wondered where he fitted in all of that.

During your whole childhood, the three of you had been together. Where Viserys went, Daemon and you followed. He had been the best older brother that anyone could ask for, always looking out for you.

It had been Viserys who had discovered Daemon and you, all those years ago. When the two of you were nothing more than a young girl and boy, fascinated by the differences in your bodies. Viserys had been the one to teach both of you the pleasures you could pull from it.

The three of you had married under the traditions of your house as soon as Daemon and you reached the majority. Three heads for the dragon, just as your banner, and just as Aegon and his two sisters wives.

It was not unheard of, for Targaryens to wed sister and brother. But what was unheard of was for a woman to marry two men. And so, Viserys and you had married under the Faith of the Seven to prevent a scandal. In the eyes of the realm, you were his, and it was only more cemented by your position as his queen.

It must have upset Daemon, but you knew it was the best course of action as to not attract unwanted attention. It had also been your grandfather's condition. The wounds from Maegor's reign were still too fresh in his memory.

To you, of course, it meant nothing. The bond you had with Daemon was even stronger. You were twins. Two halves of the same soul, separated into two bodies. You were never apart, not even when physically separated, for you were the same being.

Viserys gave you a look. You nodded, and turned to kiss Daemon. If he was in need of reassurances, you were going to give them to him.

You gave Daemon a slow, passionate kiss. You made sure to leave no corner of his mouth unexplored, no inch unkissed. Viserys quietly seated himself on the bed next to your twin, back propped against a pillow, legs stretched. When his hands reached for your back, you finally stopped making out with your twin and laid down, head between his thighs.

Daemon pouted.

“What are you doing?”

Viserys remained fully dressed, in what must have been a confusing sight to Daemon. Your twin and you enjoyed playing different games than this. When you were with Viserys, he liked to play husband and wife. Daemon and you had never fully evolved from the childhood games of slipping a finger in, taking something inside your mouth, raking nails across each other's ribs. While he had taken you as a man was meant to take his woman, it was a rare occasion.

You knew he had fucked other women, common whores and nobles alike. But he always came back to you, and never dared take you in such a way unless you begged for it. He didn't want to defile you, perhaps. Didn't want to lump you in with them. You were still his little sister, his hāedus. Precious, pure, Valyrian. Made by the gods to his image and likeness.

“Come on.” Viserys said, smoothing your hair back. “Doesn't she look good, brother?”

“She does. She always does.” Daemon spoke, as if caught in a trance.

“Will you get me ready for you?” You asked him, pouting. Daemon looked at Viserys. Whatever that he saw, it seemed to please him, for he leaned in over you. The wet, smacking sounds over you, told you that they had started to make out. You took your chance to run your hand over Daemon's stomach, gently scratching with your nails.

He shivered, just as you thought he would. With a gentle hand, you took his member and started to tease him. Daemon gasped.

Viserys’ hands started to pull at your nipples, making you arch from the bed. You felt yourself become slick with want already, arousal pooling in your belly and making you whine wantonly.

Your noises made your brothers pull apart. Viserys chuckled, his caresses turning more insistent now that Daemon wasn't distracting him with a kiss.

“Sweet little whore.” Daemon whispered, brushing your cheek with almost reverence. You pulled him on top of you, rubbing yourself against his thigh without an ounce of shame.

“I want you inside me, dārilaros.” You licked the shell of his ear, playfully. Daemon groaned.

“In your..?” He asked, softly. You never knew him to be so hesitant.

“My cunt, Daemon.” You rolled your eyes. You were his twin, after all.

“But Viserys…”

“I will have her mouth.” Viserys ordered, and finally took off his crown. He set it aside, and opened his breeches. You leaned your head on his thigh, watching him loom over you.

Viserys was the decision maker of the three of you. When faced with dilemmas, he took rash, decisive action. Daemon was mercurial, and prone to sudden mood swings, which often meant that he second guessed himself. You, like Viserys, were stubborn as they came.

A hand on your thigh startled you. It was Daemon, gently making room for himself. You let your thighs fall apart, showing him your slick cunt. He hummed appreciatively, and slowly started rutting against you, without entering. He dragged his tip against your entrance, teasing the both of you, before tapping it against your pearl and starting all over again.

You tried focusing on Viserys, taking him inside your mouth. He was as impatient as Daemon, though, so his hands found immediate purchase on your hair.

“Show me how good of a Queen you are, my love.” His thumb brushed over the slope of your nose, careful. You twisted yourself as good as you could, knowing that when Daemon entered, you would have a hard time doing more than using Viserys’ lap as a pillow.

His manhood was heavy on your tongue, the taste salty and musky. You looked up at him, mischievously. Viserys groaned, and urged you to take him deeper.

But you were a Targaryen and a Queen. You took orders from no one. Instead, you twirled your tongue around him, licking him sloppily. You knew there would be time for deep thrusts into your throat later on. Viserys’ thighs shook under you, throwing off your rhythm.

Daemon got down on his stomach, and sucked your pearl inside his mouth. There was no finesse to the way he was touching you, just pure desperation. It made you jolt and choke a moan around Viserys’ cock.

Daemon needed you wet and open, fast. His own desperation was showing in the way he gripped at you, almost cruel. He pressed a finger inside you and growled.

“You are soaked, little sister.”

You would have given him a snide reply, but you were too busy sucking Viserys' cock. Thank the gods the three of you had stayed up celebrating last night, or otherwise it would have been too much and too fast.

You thanked the gods that the three of you had stayed up last night celebrating, and not gone straight to bed. Otherwise, your body could not take it.

Noticing your distress, Viserys starts rubbing your breasts, softly kneading.

“You are doing so good, my Queen.”

“Our Queen.” Daemon pulls away from your cunt, annoyed.

“Treat her like it, then.”

Daemon grumbles a little, but complies. The desperate fingering of your poor hole slows down to a more manageable pace. Your moans around Viserys lost their pained edge, and you were able to go back to focusing on pleasing him.

Your twin gets more dedicated with his kisses. He slows down, licking your sex from top to bottom until you are squirming and unable to focus on anything else but the way he is kissing you.

You let go of Viserys cock, resting your head on his thigh. Your face scrunches up, jaw already a little sore. You moan, loud and high.

Your older brother gives you a kind look and pets your hair, pushing it back from your face. He seems as mesmerized by the sight of your twin lapping up the nectar between your thighs as you are.

“Be quiet.” He chides. “Or I will take your mouth until you are too sore to cry out.”

The thought, coupled with the way Daemon is starting to push his tongue inside you, makes you kneen. One of your hands timidly goes to his silver hair, encouraging him to go deeper. Your other hand reaches for Viserys, who gives you his outstretched hand to hold.

“Quiet, hāedus.” Viserys squeezes your hand.

Daemon stops his ministrations. He looks up at you, face wet with your slick, and chuckles.

“Give her your cock back, Viserys, if you are that bothered by the noise.”

“I am waiting for the two of you.”

“Afraid I will bite your cock once Daemon presses…” You tease, but before you can finish your sentence, Daemon gives your ankles a mighty tug and buries himself to the hilt inside you. “Ah. Brother…” And you are not even sure which one of them you are pleading to anymore. You have forgotten whatever smug comment you were going to say to Viserys, mouth falling open with surprise and pleasure.

Daemon feels right inside you. Warm, thick and reaching just the place where you need him to. Just the place that makes your smug comments and piling on Viserys fall away, mind gone blank with nothing but the need to give the two of them perfect Valyrian babes. Twins, like you and Daemon, or at least, a litter of siblings that can marry each other and keep your bloodline pure.

“Brat.” Daemon says, fondly. “Stop being mean to Viserys. You need to apologize. Relax your jaw for him.”

So you do. You open your mouth, letting it hang open, and give Viserys your best puppy eyed look. He snorts, very undignified for a King, and places the tip of his cock against your mouth. You whine.

“Spoiled little thing, isn't she?” Viserys pulls his hips away, and you do your best to give chase, whining more. Daemon tuts, and grips you firmly by the waist. Viserys look at him, and they exchange a glance, communicating without a word needing to be said. “Did that look like an apology to you, Daemon?”

“Not at all, brother.” He pulls out of you as well, making you whine more.

“That is so unfair!” You complain. “The two of you are teaming up against me.”

“Like you were trying to do before with me, huh?” Daemon asks, meanly pinching your thigh. You shriek and kick at him a little. “You were being mean to Viserys.”

“Oh, like you aren't!” You squirm away from him, turning on to your belly so he can’t pinch at you. You crawl towards Viserys, hoping he will protect you. Instead, he only tugs at your wrists, keeping them pinned down so you can't move.

You are trying so hard to get free of Viserys’ grip that you make a fatal mistake. You don't notice Daemon at your back, getting ready to strike. And strike he does. He smacks your arse, making you wince and fall forward into Viserys. Daemon smacks your arse again. And again. It's edging into picking of you, rather than just teasing. It's making you unbelievably wet.

“Viserys!” You scream. “Do something!”

“You are a little brat. But so is he. Enough.” Your older brother orders, letting go of your wrists. He gives Daemon a warning look. “Both of you.”

You give Daemon a superior sneer over your shoulder. You stick your tongue out. He snarls, and tugs at your hair.

“You are the Queen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Behave as it befits your station.” Viserys says. “Daemon, inside. You, open your mouth.”

Daemon laughs. You do so as well. Viserys pouts.

“It's an order from your King.” He repeats, pompously.

“Alright, alright. If the King orders it.” You say, and open up your mouth. You make your best effort to let your jaw go loose, and welcome him inside. He is considerate enough to not start thrusting right away, but you know soon that patience will be tested. Viserys is as much of a dragon as Daemon and you are, and he is not one to deny himself of his pleasure. He can take you over and over on his good days, fuck you until you cry, and remain unbothered by your tears. In a sense, Daemon and him are the same.

You feel Daemon's hands on your back, warning you that he is soon to move. You widen your stance, knees falling even more apart. He slides inside carefully enough, but the stretch still hurts. You wince, and Viserys is quick to smooth down your frown with a thumb, very gentle.

Both of your brothers are very tuned in to your reactions. Consequence of being a twin, for Daemon. Consequence of being the eldest, for Viserys. They are cautious about your discomfort. You wonder what would they be like if you were not a Targaryen.

You have heard Daemon could be quite cruel with whores. He had a taste for Valyrian girls, of pouty mouths and tight little bodies, barely out of childhood. Viserys had wandering eyes, and mistook every kindness for flirting. He only read you right because he had known you all your life. They respected your strength and power too much to do anything else.

Daemon hands goes to your pearl, rubbing quick little circles in the hope of making you relax. You force your body to accept his intrusion, and go lax in between them, trusting them to not let you fall.

Viserys starts thrusting into your mouth, shallowly at first. He works on opening up your throat for him, and you try to focus on breathing to your nose. Gagging happens regardless. Daemon jolts you too much once he starts moving not to.

“Seven Hells. Do that again.” He mutters to Viserys, after a particularly vicious thrust on your throat. “She flutters delightfully when she chokes.”

You garble out an indignant reply at their lack of consideration, but you are quickly soothed by Daemon's fingers rubbing your pearl. He keeps his strokes long, making sure to drag against your walls in the most pleasurable way.

Viserys soon starts to praise you under his breath. He is the one who has been teased longer, so it makes sense that he would be the first of the three of you to let go.

“You are so good. Your mouth, sister…”

You grin around his member. You double your efforts, sucking at him and bobbing your head with enthusiasm. Your focus is so much on him that your peak takes you by surprise, and with one last thrust of Daemon's hips, you are screaming around Viserys. The vibrations against him prove to be too much, and he too goes over the edge with a muffled curse. He barely manages to pull out of you, painting your chest white.

Daemon is spurred on by the sounds and sights around him, and he snaps his hips once, twice, thrice, before he is screaming his release. You feel it coat your thighs, and it's only then that you allow yourself to collapse into Viserys.

“I was already dressed for the day.” He complains. “Can't walk into the council covered in my own seed.”

“Change later.” Daemon says, plopping on top of you and by extension, Viserys. Your older brother groans. “You are not going yet.”

“They will come looking for me.” Viserys tries to wiggle out of the cuddle pile, but the weight of your twin, and you combined is too much to do anything.

“Let them come.”

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