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inupibaldspot · 3 months

Text

Blue is the color of royalty.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Staring Gojo as the crown prince and you crown princess in an arranged marriage! Sexual intonation is there but nothing major. Mentions of death and cheating as in infidelity. 4.3k words (this is usually too long for me to write)

Gojo remembers that day very clearly, his throat felt constricted, breath felt raspy with the strenuous inhale and exhales, the cuff of his shirt now soaked wet as he wipes his tears furiously trying to console himself amidst the crowd.

He was six when it was announced by the emperor, his father announced an arrangement of love between the Royal Family of Gojo and the Duke of the South. The young crown prince with as equally young you, the second child to the Duke of the South.

Through his tears he hears clanks of fork and plate beside him as his two friends were eating away while Gojo was wallowing in despair, he didn’t want to marry you—he has never even seen you!

Shoko the daughter of the Duke of the North simply liked coming to parties because this was the only place she didn’t have restrictions on how much sweets she could eat. While Geto Suguru, son of Count Geto simply came because he was told to by his father.

He sniffs as he tries to console himself, he already had a fixed idea on how he wants to get married and it was not this! He wanted to save a damsel in distress-be of noble or commoner blood and wanted that event to be a ‘love at first sight situation.’

He peeps over to where a outburst was as people surrounded a small figure muttering congratulations. Surely you were there. He thinks that you were probably surrounded by leeching adults, awaiting an opportunity for a slip-up which would cause an exaggerated rumors. Adults from high society were simply like that.

Gojo stands on the ball of his feet, trying to see over the crowd and from the push in between the cracks of the crowd, he does see you.

And you were beautiful.

You were adorned with the finest jewelry, size fitting your petite figure, with a beautiful dress adorned with classic lace and pearls. He swears in between his mesmerization that you were perfect.

So mesmerized he loses balance and falls over, his butt now on the floor as he soothe the ache while trying to stand up. Geto cackled at the sight. “ What’s wrong? Your expression is so dumb right now,Satoru.”

Gojo clears his throat as he tries to maintain dignity, the dignity of the crown prince. “The lady I am betrothed to is a pleasure to the eye. I am pleased…”

Geto sighs at his friend’s already being stupid. “But you know what I heard-“ he starts. “The young child of the Duke is like a machine.”

Gojo sooner or later (over the years you visited him quite a lot, often staying over at the palace as the travel time between the capital and the south was quite long.) he totally gets what Geto’s words that day meant.

You were literally a golden child for the Duke and now, a golden wife for him; the purest of all pure bred nobles. any work done is to be completed in a day, you oversee everything that is going on in the palace and doing a good job—so much so that his mom the empress was even letting you over see some matters.

“y/n,let’s go out on a walk.” Gojo would beam, excitedly walking over to you. “The afternoon sun is pleasant today.”

You had a straight look on your face as you stare into Gojo’s eyes, as if you were judging ever inch of him. “I rather suggest you get some training done, your highness. Your body seems quite feeble.”

Gojo gwaks at you who is now walking away,with a book at hand either to the library or his mother’s side—the empress.

Somewhere along the line Gojo realizes that you were coming over to butter up the emperor and the empress. You were not there to see him. Gojo seethed . Over time any attraction he felt when he first saw you is now crumbled and blown into dust by the winds. He could not care less for a person who was so busy to even spare a glance at him—fiancée or not!

When he was fifteen he was sent to a neighboring smaller country which excelled in military and academic—the country was said to be 10 years infront of any other when it came to their literary and research.

Gojo felt like he could breathe again, his bone pops as he stretches as he is finally free. Away from you for atleast four years. This new found freedom away from your judging eyes was making feel as if he were floating—he studied he swears, his academic score was always great but more than that he also spend his royal gold coins as he drinks away even though he was under age , and maybe even a few gropes to the beautiful ladies passing by.

This was the first time Gojo had been to the red light district and certainly it was not the last. But who would scold him, he was the son of the one of the most powerful empire Gojo Satoru and was the crown prince. Who would are say anything to him? The thinks to himself as he lays currently in bed, chest bare with a lady who is not his fiancée.

But don’t worry too much, Geto was by his side too! If his parents know about this— Gojo is at least relieved that he won’t go down alone.

At the age of nineteen, he finally comes back to the empire,now standing at a taller height and broad shoulders. The air around Gojo itself feels mature…and extremely attractive—to bad he was engaged at the age of six. He loves the gaze the maids near him gives, affirming and stroking his already enflated ego.

He sends a flirtatious wink at one of the better looking maids with a larger bottom as he signals a ‘follow-me’ as his head nods to a empty room.

Just as he was about to turn the corner,a figure popped up. He had crumbled when he was six and he has once again at nineteen. You stepped out of the corner in a beautiful blue dress with inside frills of white lace, the blue puff on your shoulder adorned with gold and you wearing the same metal on your ears and neck made it so much more ethereal.

“Your highness.My apologies, I’ve been so busy with the revolt at the south border it must have slipped my mind.” You speak, why were you not as fazed as he was. “I had not known you had arrived.” Why was your heart not racing like his was?

But he must say, the years have been good to you. You were taller but now shorter than he was, the fats of your cheeks now slimmed down making the rest of your features more enhanced ,more beautiful. You blink confused as Gojo’s eyes trail around, relishing every part of now an adult you. In this instance you are the most beautiful piece of existence there is in man kind.

“What?” He wears a smug expression as he crosses his hands and stands tall. “Did ya miss me?”

You blink, as if you were genuinely confused. “Yes I did. You are my fiancé after all,your highness.”

And there goes Gojo’s resolution to not fall for you—just with these simple words, he is once again head over heels for you.

You did miss him after all! Gojo giggles to himself when he remembers the interaction,while Geto sits on the sofa, as he sips in the evening tea that was brought in. “But it’s been what? Four years since been you’ve been away.” Geto says, trying his best to control his smirk as he sees thunder clouds form on top of Gojo’s head. “Maybe y/n had been seeing someone else.”

Gojo shakes the part of his brain which reprimands him for his hypocrisy, he had been with women, lots of them when he was away but now the simple idea of a man being with you, makes him worry as if he is ill. His stomach burns with jealousy; it would be worse if it were a single man.

Many men would be worse than a few, a few would be worse than two, a two will be worse…than one? No-

—It would be the worst if you have a simply been with one man who you’ve completely undone your heart to. Does your expression form to a loving one—one he is yet to see? Do you whisper sweet words into that man’s undeserving ears? Oh how he wishes there could be a battlefield where he could fight for your love then he would not lose!

Shoko blows out a puff of smoke, which comes out of a tobacco filled-elaborately design hookah—pipe. “Nope. Your fiancée has been single as a nun.” She says in a matter of fact tone.

“Wha-wait…none?” Gojo manages to whisper out, head still wrapping around Shoko’s reply. “She must have! She does well in high society, is beautiful, anything she wears becomes a fashion statement, and she known for being intelligent! She must had a man or two to console her in the absence of her fiancé!”

Nobles have always done that, husbands leaving for the red light district as soon as he is away from his wife, while the girls wife is in bed with younger workers in bed while the husband was away.

Shoko thinks Gojo is simply bratty as she waves him off, taking another pull of air from the pipe. “Nope—your lady doesn’t play,I think I’ve only ever seen her in work mode.” While Gojo giggles to himself on how Shoko referred to you as ‘his’ lady making her and a Geto raise an eyebrow.

And boy— in work mode you certainly where in his absence of his studies because now he sits in the dinner table,completely silent.

The long table filled with lavish food,the royal couples will most likely never finish and Gojo, the crown prince sits with his mother and father, the emperor and empress with his fiancée.

It was then when he realized—no felt it to his bones that he was replaced! Your smart brain and smooth tongue had worked his way into his parents' hearts and now he sits silently, not knowing how to join into the conversation as if he was the one who was to be married into the family.

“My…your highness.” Your doll like eyes blink at him and with a flutter of your lashes and a hand placed on his thighs, Gojo feels heat rush to his cheeks. “You must eat.”

“Gojo!” His father shouts from the other side of the dinner table. “Don’t be picky, you’re an adult now!” His mother giggled, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“Oh shut up, old man.” Gojo seethed , he stands on his feet, ready to walk away from the table. But of course his body freezes when you hold onto the fabric on his pants. He grits his teeth.

You were looking at him with a pout, eye brows furrowed as you shake your head in a disapproving manner. “You mustn’t speak to his majesty in that manner, your highness.”

But Gojo wasn’t really listening as his eyes trail down to your cleavage which was entirely exposed from this angle. God—he almost sees red, so much so that it even drips red…drips red?

You shriek, losing your cool as your fiancé stands with a confused look and blood dripping down his nose. You quickly turn to the Royal couple, “My apologies your majesties but the crown prince seems rather unwell so we will take our leave.” You grab a cloth piece from the table and rush to aid Gojo.

You place the piece of cloth on his nose as you lead him by his fingers with a gentle tug, you call out for the maids for help and a doctor while you make him sit on his bed.

The doctor shakes his head. “Your Majesty must’ve been stressed about something…or he may have overworked himself with something.”

You hum as you look at Gojo’s dumb look, a nostril filled with cotton. “What has been stressing your mind,your majesty?”

“Why don’t you think I have been overworking myself?!” He barks back, hand shooing away all of the workers in the room,leaving only him and you.

“Ever since you came back, you have simply been wasting your time away.” You shake your head as Gojo jumps,he is as guilty as charged. “You hardly even frequent the training grounds anymore, your majesty.”

Gojo turned his body and his eyes in your direction while he sits on his lavish bed as he reached out to wrap his hands around your hips,pulling you closer to him.

He rests his chin on your stomach as he looks up at you, you look down at him with a confused look. Why was he acting like this?

“Your majesty this, your majesty that—!” You almost laugh at the amount of sass in this man when he spoke those words. “Quit that and call me Satoru.” He demands.

You let out a smile, gojo thinking that this moment when he is graced with your smile has blessed his years to come. “Okay Satoru.” Gojo is simply undone when it came to you, a clumsy mess. As he feels hot in his head.

“Oh my —“ you shriek again. “Satoru, your other nose is also bleeding.”

Gojo thinks the best way to begin the day if at times when he sees you at the training grounds. After you had reprimanded him for skipping his training, the following day he wake up at 5am and trains till his training was completed by about 8am.

He sometimes see you walk down the near by pathway as he wipes his sweat, clinging to his body from the now heating sun and intense training. Gojo normally trains with Geto Suguru, now a Royal Knight of the Palance, as he is the only one who can keep up with him.

And when ever he does see you, people see the flowers bloom and the air suddenly becomes a tad bit hotter. Gojo waves his hand in the air like a child waiting for you to do the same. You lift your hands gently and offer a small wave, smile hidden shyly behind your other hand, a dignified princess indeed.

But one thing bad about your visits to the training ground? You were alone.

Gojo swings his sword, acting cool making his muscles on his back ripple as he knows your presence is in attendance for todays training. He is sure to impress you!

After his routine was done, he turns to you giving the most handsome stare he could muster with a personal gust of wind to help him today only to find you with another man… You, the crown princess with Haibara, another knight belonging to Geto’s team.

To make matters worse, you looked so adorable and cozy,body heat completely warm as he noticed you were in a jacket, a larger one, one belonging to the military. A jacket that was not his!

Gojo rushes over and quickly takes of your jacket gently before he swings it on the ground, before he gives you his jacket despite your complaint on how ‘Haibara was simply making sure I was not cold.’

He pout as you give him a confused look. “When ever you’re cold, just come to me… Don’t use other men’s jacket…”

There was one day when Gojo realized how easy you could slip away, gone forever.

You and him were in the Royal Garden, Gojo beaming at the thought that you finally decided to hang around him. Your eyes opens as you take a sip from the cup ,confused as to why Gojo was acting like a puppy when thier owner comes back home. Loveless marriage or not, you had to act like you two were in love. The palace walls have ears after all so sometimes you liked to humor Gojo—just a little.

Gojo hums as he has his chin on his hands,pupils turned to heart shapes as he beams at how lovely you are. When you suddenly dropped your cup as you look into his eyes. “y/n…?” Just then blood seeps through the crack of your lips as you tumble from your seat.

Before you fall to the ground,Gojo is quick to reach your arms before you head ground first. He shouts for help as workers and doctors rushed to them,as he wraps his hands around you pleading to the gods above that you are safe. “My love…please come back to me.”

You did gain consciousness the next morning to find Gojo looking at you with gaping mouth, the color under his eyes were darkened. Did he not sleep for the duration of your unconscious state? “Sato..ru..?”

His eyes well up as the skin near his eyes and cheeks flush red, with the first stream of tears you are engulfed and pushed into his arms as he bleeds your ears on how worried he was.

While he was away, he had not been a good human being if he were to be honest. Many of his letters from family,friends and you remain closed, probably burned to ashes by now. If he had gone through his letter maybe he would have been aware that it was found that you had a rather frail health.

While Gojo sniffles into the crook of your neck( he is definitely taking advantage of the situation ) you smile to yourself, a tiny one. Yes. This is the Gojo you remember being engaged to. A clumsy spoiled but good kid.

Shhh—Did you know the walls have ears?

But this time they are talking. There are whispers among the maids, worker, butlers and even the stable cleaner that her highness the crown princess has an affair—a lover. I mean after all your fiancé is a tall attractive man who is literally the crown prince. If such a person was showing such open affection but you were not reciprocating it? Hmmm? Suspicious! I rest my case.

“I was careless…” you mutter to yourself as your look outside the tall palace windows, eyes a few workers who were cleaning up stray leaves by the poarch.

“About what,love?”

A sudden reply to a question where you weren’t expecting an answer made you jump slightly as you peered to see Gojo looking at you with a smile on his face. “Good morning,love.” His hand reached around your waist as he bends down and kisses your forehead. Gojo has been acting far too much like a husband ever since he has been back from his studies and you were still not used to it.

“Kyaa— look it’s the prince and princess.”

“They’re so love dovey first thing in the morning.”

“I guess the rumors on the crown princess is fake…”

You two stilled as hushed whispers were heard. Gojo seemed rather displeased that he was interrupted plus evesdropped on as his hands comically tighten into a fist. “Those insolent fools must not want their tongue…How dare they listen to us speak—“

But you on the other hand had your eyes wide, hands near your mouth as you gape in realization.

Bingo!

You quickly turn to Gojo who seems to still at the unfamiliar attention as he jumps slightly, as you walk closer and place your hand on his chest which sends his heart heat racing. “I need you to act like a lover to me.”

Gojo blinks once.

Twice.

“Was I not a lover to you all these time—?!” He barks, a vein popped on his forehead.

You stare at him with pretty blinks of confusion along with furrowed eyebrows, “what are you saying? You’re my fiancé through arrangement.” You say in a matter of fact tone. “You and I are not lovers, Satoru.”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheeks, his heart is filled with unwanted emotions—anger, sadness,disappointment,shame? Fine! If he wants you to act like a lover— he’ll act like a love. Your lover.

Before you know it, one of his hands slips around your waist as the other grabs your face, his nose now against your cheeks making you shudder at the sudden change in vibe.

He smears his lips around the corner of your lips first, your makeup which took too long for your taste now smeared. He decides to now nip your lower lips, making you gasp as you feel him make tiny licks and nips. “Sa-satoru…” he groans when you say his name.

His lips are finally on yours as the corner of Gojo’s lips tug upwards when he was met in realization that you are eagerly waiting for him with soft presses of your lips as his tongue slips in pretty easily. Something bubbles inside you chest when your thoughts trail to the fact that Gojo was an exemplary kisser—your chest tightens harder when you are reminded of Gojo’s visits to women of the red light district.

You were aware of these but back in the days, you were not bothered at his actions at all—Gojo was simply beautiful after all. You did not mind ever since you first got engaged but at this moment, it tightened your heart as if leaves a nasty aftertaste.

You probably don’t know that Gojo has never stepped inside such business ever since he got back home—to you.

As he sucks, wet presses on your tongue and bites —just as you were feeling lightheaded and wanting more Gojo pulls away.

“Satoru…?” Gojo muttered as swear when he sees your disheveled state, hair a mess, clothing slightly crumpled and lipstick smudged in the sexiest way possible.

“What?” He feigns cool as if there isn’t a significant tightening in his pants as he turns around. “I’m just acting as your lover.” If he wants you to act like a lover. He will do as you say.

Now the walls are giggling, yeah…this phrase isn’t going to cut it anymore. The maids whisper hush talks to the chefs and chefs to the delivery man and then the public. The news is that the crown prince and princess were so in love, they could hardly be apart.

The crown prince sweeping the princess of the ground pulled into a hug, the crown prince sheepishly nuzzling into the princess’s crook of her neck as he comes from behind, quick passionate kisses along the lavish hallways when they think no one is looking( the pair know that they are looking.)

The opportunist in you quickly suggests to his father that it is wise to release the copies of letters you had sent to him when he was away—yea, you made copies of your letters. The emperor was pleased, he laughed and entertained your suggestion. Gojo at this point has given up on making you realize his feelings and simply does what ever you say…

The public raved over the release making the royals more likable to the public, there were even talks on how they already could dream of you and Gojo as the ruling royals.

For the public that wish does come indeed true in the worst possible manner.

The emperor had suddenly fallen ill as he falls into a rough bloody cough, sometimes can hardly eat plus with no energy that he could barely stand. By rule book, in such scenarios the duty as the governor of the empire falls onto the crown prince—Gojo thinks he is ready, he was born to do this after all but all preparations were interrupted when the revolt in the South became a bigger issue more so because that is the region you came from.

Your father, the Duke’s troops kept getting ambushed and were losing morale quickly. Gojo watches you who was praying , to the gods that your father and your people be safe. If that is your wish, he shall be your god.

The same night Gojo groups up his men and marches south. This is the least a husband can do for his lover.

You almost faint when you hear this news,muttering nervously under her breath when you were having a fig-jam toast breakfast in bed. The toast falls from your mouth. “What?”

Now you think you are dreaming, it was one disaster after another! You gently rub circles on your father in law’s hand as Gojo’s father calms you. “It is a duty of a ruler to help his people… Gojo will come back victorious,my dear. You worry too much.”

The empress soothes you, otherwise a straight faced person with never an emotion on your face becomes such a mess for her son. As long as you are by Gojo’s side, his mother can stay assured for the rest of eternity. If you were by his side, Gojo will remain smiling.

It took one season for the idiot to arrived, his hands broken and now hangs on a sling. “I hope you’re not too angered by my actions.” Gojo knew he was wrong to march off that day, he was unprepared too but when he saw the tremble on your fingertips, he simply wants nothing but to make you secure, safe.

He watches you walk towards him before you say. “I think I am dreaming your highness, I had not known you had arrived.” You still has a straight faced look as if your fiancé is all injured with even a broken arm, voice still so steady.

Gojo laughs at this but just as he was about to reply with a snide remark he is cut off, your lips are on his. “You worry me too much, your highness. I fear you are not good for my heart.”

Gojo kisses you. His working hand snaking around your waist. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be when he was away and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to mark every inch of you.

“How ever m-“ you push him away, gojo whine’s already craving the plush of your lips. “I am very displeased by your action. Even if you are the crown prince it is wiser if your discussed with the strategists and make a plan first. That was very—very unwise of you you highness. I cannot from the depth of my heart believe you would do something so stupid— honestly Gojo I thought you were so much smarter than that . Your behavior is very much unacceptable-“

Gojo almost bleeds from his ears as he listens to you lecture him, the crown prince, future ruler now on his knees. He fights back a smile fearing you would be further angered but his mind was filled with thoughts of , ‘shit, I can’t wait to be with this person for the rest of my life.

‎‧₊˚✧[Ending Thoughts ]✧˚: I almost made this a smut halfway through buahaha (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? Check out other here (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ) ♡

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abbyromanoff · 6 months

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Heyyy there would you mind writing wanda x femreader where r dreams of wanda cheating on us with vision so when r wokes up she's mad and grumpy and wanda doesn't know why, now she's sad and confused. Fluff at the end though

VISIONS

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 862

WARNINGS: allusions to smut, talks of cheating, jealousy, anxiety, groping, small angst, fluff, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Baby? Can you please stop ignoring me?” Wanda asked with a hand on your shoulder. You shook it off, rolling your eyes as you threw the blankets further over your body. She sighed, trying to leave a kiss to your exposed skin until you shrugged her off once again.

She didn’t know why you seemed so upset, but she assumed from previous experiences that you simply were having a bad morning. It could be a dream, it could be your period, it could just be an irritating mood. In reality, it was the sight you saw in your deep sleep. It woke you with a sudden cry, your head tossing to the side to instantly try and spot the woman. In the dream, you had just walked in on the pair sharing an intimate moment that was meant for only you and Wanda. The witch tried to explain herself, but you woke up before you could make your final decision.

When Wanda woke, she tried giving you a morning peck on the lips, but you denied. She was confused but let it slide, until you ignored her clear request for sex. Your body was bare, only holding layers of hickeys that you usually would’ve admired, yet she still was - which only seemed to anger you further.

She gave up after nearly half an hour of trying to persuade you into talking and grabbed her book, placing her reading glasses over her eyes and sitting silently. You’d mumble quiet annoyances, but refused to form a normal sentence.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re so mad at me?” No response was given besides a huff. “Please, my love? C’mon, don’t make Mommy sad.” She teased, sensing from your sudden stillness that she hit a nerve. You sucked in a breath, removing the covers as you walked towards the bathroom. She groaned, copying your actions with a shiver as the cold air hit her.

“What are you doing?” You stood under the warm water, letting your hair soak as your body erupted with goosebumps. She tore off her shirt, only stopping when your voice was heard.

“So that’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?” Your eyes fell to her naked chest as you licked your lips, forcing yourself to turn away from the trap.

“What? Can I not take a shower with my partner?” She stepped behind you, venturing her hands to your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. She kissed the skin softly, leaving hints of her scent behind as you shuddered.

“This…this isn’t fair, Wanda, I’m supposed to be mad at you.” She let her lips linger, trailing her hands up and down, squeezing your breasts before one traveled to your lower region.

“And why is that?” A frown took over your face, and you lowered your gaze. She paused, turning you around so you would face her. You refused to meet her eyes until it was forced out of you, her finger below your chin guiding you to fit her needs.

“Can you please tell me what I did so I can apologize? I’d really appreciate it, love.”

“It’s stupid,”

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you.” She frowned, stroking your cheek softly as she pulled you in, leaving a peck to the skin before trailing to your plump lips. She hummed against you, allowing herself to soak in the warmth of the embrace you ridded her from.

“I had a dream,” You bit your lip, groaning as she pressed on. She rubbed your arms soothingly, furrowing her brows as she waited for your voice to rise once again.

“And in that dream, I caught you…sleeping with…Vision.” She chuckled lightly, causing your frown to grow.

“Oh, love, how could I ever do that to you? Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but I know a girl with the most beautiful, and most wonderful partner. She loves them with all her heart, and she would never, ever even consider breaking their own sweet little heart.” She smiled, brushing her fingers through your hair when red threatened to cover your skin.

“But,”

“Shh, and I don’t want you to think any different, alright? I love you, I love you so much and that will never change.” She assured, and you grinned to yourself, muttering a small statement that she asked for you to repeat.

“Especially not for a red robot?”

“Especially not for a red robot.” She smiled, pecking your forehead slightly and cradling you with her arms. The soft skin sent a sigh of gratitude your way, and you cuddled closer into the woman.

“I love you so much, Wanda. I’m sorry for being mean, I know you’d never do that.” She hummed, trailing her hand lower once again. It fell upon your bare ass, her palm squeezing with a giggle.

“So soft,”

“Wanda! You pervert!” She shook her head, nuzzling her nose in your neck as she continued to poke at the area. You bit your lip, leaning into her as instinct.

“Now, why don’t you let me make it up to you and show you just how much I love you?”

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cheonstapes · 9 months

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hi! i absolutely love your spider-barbie x miguel fic! could you pls do a miguel x fashion reader who loves wearing pretty dresses and skirts but he gets a little possessive and then other stuff ensues..

miguel o'hara stars in... 'MY DRESS UP DARLING' ♡(>ᴗ•)

a/n~ this request is so cute omg i always wanted to be a fashion designer so i kinda channelled that. i was thinking of valdrin sahiti's dresses the whole time, also POSSESSIVE MIGUELL AHHH!! enjoy my lovely 💗💗💗💗

summary; miguel loves it when you dress up, only for him though. no one else.

wc; 1.6k+

pairings; husband!miguel o'hara x wife!fashion designer!reader

cw; SMUT!!, voyeurism, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, fingering, meanish-soft?dom!miguel, sub!reader p in v, tit slapping like once, a guy watches you two fuck, is dirty (￣▽￣*)ゞ, nawt proofread - this took me like 2 days to write m a busy girlie

you were just so gorgeous. ever since you and miguel started living together you completely took over the space in your shared closet with the most beautiful pieces of clothes he’s ever laid eyes on, eventually leading to miguel spending a whole week making you your own walk-in closet. he took you out shopping after that, since you had all this new space - why not fill it with even more clothes?

typically, you liked to design your own. dresses of all shapes and sizes, skirts too, but miguel loved spoiling you too much - besides, he loves it when you dress up for him. he booked you a private fitting in one of the top boutiques in nueva york, you would talk his ear off about how badly you wanted a dress from them, sending him pics of all the new pieces they’d put out. what’s better than spending quality time with his baby?

when you two arrived at the boutique, you were greeted by a young man. he was handsome, not as handsome as your husband, but still handsome. he smiled brightly at you whilst handing you a glass of champagne before turning to miguel and doing the same. “good afternoon mrs. o’hara, mr. o’hara. we’ll sure to make this the most memorable experience for you, seeing as your husband booked the most expensive service we offer. but a beautiful lady like yourself deserves the best, regardless.” the little fucker winked at you. miguel was slowly starting to regret coming here, seeing you blush faintly from the compliment made his blood boil.

the man attempted to put his hand in yours, trying to guide you to the fitting rooms - did he want to get fucked up? miguel let out a low growl, wrapping an arm around your waist a pulling you close to him. “well? lead the way then.”

------------------------------------------------------

for the most part, miguel was enjoying watching you dress up so prettily. everything fit you like a glove, all of the dresses chosen specifically from your instagram collections and your pinterest boards. adjusting himself, he eyed you hungrily. this dress was just perfect. it looked so similar to your wedding dress, you looked so beautiful in it - even more so when he fucked you in that same night. he had picked this dress out for you specifically and he was secretly crossing his fingers in hopes that you liked it, and like it you did. but someone else liked it too, a bit too much.

the shop assistant stood at the side of the platform, gawking at you. obviously, miguel knew his wife was a whole goddess, too good for this world - but this guy was staring so shamelessly at you. he couldn’t allow that, nuh uh. “d’you like the dress, my love? i picked it out for you, knew you’d look so sexy in it.” miguel stands behind you now, large hands caressing your hips as he presses himself against you. he whispered into your ear but it was 100% loud enough for the assistant to hear, seeing as his face started to turn a deep red at the pda.

this only fuelled miguel to go even further, lip’s latching onto your sensitive neck, sucking on the skin. one of his hands moves up the dress, skimming the fat of your exposed cleavage before pushing under the fabric to grope your tit, thumb rubbing teasing circles over your pert nipples. “this dress was made for you, doll, no one could wear it like you do.” he spun you around, both hands gripping onto your ass. his hard cock presses into your stomach, your hand coming up to his chest, pure embarrassment on your face. “h-honey,” you had to get on your tip-toes to whisper to your behemoth of a husband, holding onto his shoulders. “what are you doing? can’t you wait till we get home, baby?”

he smiled, brushing his hand along the side of your face. “how else am i gonna teach that little perv a lesson if we’re at home, hm? look at him, love. he’s probably gonna get off to this later.” you would think the guy isn’t even there with the way that miguel completely disregarded his presence, talking about him so openly like he wasn’t even there. but miguel didn’t give a fuck, patting your ass to get you to jump onto him, wrapping your legs tightly around his thin waist.

he sat down on the sofa in front of the mirror, deftly hiking up the dress to bunch up just above your plump ass, palming his hands over the skin. giving the assistant a view to remember, he pushed your thong to the side, creamy strings of arousal cling onto the fabric. you were wet, so wet - your sexy husband was feeling you up, what else could you do? “mírate, empadada para mí. you’re such a dirty girl, eh love? or is it that you like being watched?” three fingers plunged into you, he moved them teasingly slow, pressing them up against the most sensitive spots - curling them, moving faster and faster until he feels you clench around his thick fingers.

“you gonna cum, sweetheart?” he slows his fingers down to a gentle grind, thumb flicking your swollen clit. your soft whines and whimpers were just too cute, he can see the guy’s hard-on - his shaky hands dipping under the waistband of his slacks. “mmh - y-yeahhh, feels so g-good.” your hips were moving so salaciously against his hands, the urge to give in to you was becoming harder to resist for miguel. but he had to make sure that idiot learnt not to fuck with what’s his. he pulled his fingers out of your soaked cunt, licking your essence of his fingers before lifting you up and turning you around in his lap, your pussy exposed for the assistant to see.

“baby, what’re you-“ you could hear the sound of a belt unbuckling behind you, and the wet slap of your husband’s tip against his toned stomach. he places a hand on your lower back, arching it whilst the other comes to pull the front of your dress down - perky tits spilling out of the lacy front. “lift your hips for me, love.” he slips his thick cock under, smacking his tip against your clit, pre smearing all over it. “fuck, honey, please i need you.” of course, he could never say no to you.

he pushed himself inside of you, pulling you back down. keeping a fast pace, the wet sounds of your ass meeting his hips reverberated throughout the room, one of his hands groping your tits. “you like that, baby? you - fuck - you like getting fucked like the little slut you are, moanin’ my name like that.” drool was slipping out of your mouth, running down your chest. all you could let out were garbled whimpers and moans, your smaller hands gripping his arms as he used you like a fleshlight.

the assistants hand was moving rapidly under his slacks, his eyes trained on the sight of miguel’s cock stretching you out so deliciously. you lost all feelings of embarrassment long ago, your shaky hands rubbing tight circles against your swollen clit. miguel cursed under his breath, his own voice slightly shaken, his large hand splayed against your stomach. the outline of his cock pressed against his hand, he was so, so deep in you. “shit…would you look at that.” he ran his thumb over the outline of his tip, hips stuttering as a jolt of pleasure racked both of your bodies.

“god, fuck - ‘m gonna fill this sweet pussy up. you always wanted me to knock you up, right love?” he smacks your tit, the flesh jiggling in his palms as he quickens his thrusts. “see my girls swollen with milk, this beautiful belly of yours all heavy with our babies. everyone will know you’re mine, ‘m never letting you go - i’ll fuck as many babies as i have to in this tight cunt to make you remember that.”

your thighs trembled at his words, fingers on your clit sloppy as you clench tightly around him, a broken whine of his name leaving your lips. squirting all over the sofa, his cock almost pushed out of you from the force of your orgasm. the faint whimper from the corner tells you both the assistant finished too, his arm draped along his face. miguel was so close, pushing his cock as deep as it could go, forcing more liquid out of your quivering cunt.

“thaaat’s it, baby, you’re so gorgeous when you cum. f-fuck - take it, fucking take all of my cum.” his hips push against you two, three more times before he spills his load inside, the thick, creamy liquid seeping out and pooling at the base of his cock. he ruts against you slowly, pushing his cum back into you - pressing kisses down the side of your sweaty neck. “you did so good for me, i love you so much.” you smiled deliriously, pressing a deep kiss on his spit soaked lips. “mmm, i love you too, honey.”

his gaze then locks onto the assistant, eyes narrowed and demanding. he hold you tightly against him, hand caressing your ass lovingly. “you. ring up all of this shit, she’ll keep this one on.” he nods frantically, tripping over himself as he grabs all the dresses on the racks. “one more thing,”

“when you’re done, do me a favour and quit. i don’t wanna see you here again.”

“miguel!”

- mírate, empadada para mí. - look at you, so wet for me

-come into my mouth, come into my mouth in the name of the lord

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#cheonslovelynonnies💕#cheonsshowreals 🤍

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 2 months

Note

BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS

i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)

~~~

Fresh Out The Slammer

James Potter x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any

summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…

part one is here!!

~~~

I did my time

Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer

I know who my first call will be to...

~~~

When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.

It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.

That was the final straw.

“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”

You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so...” he replied.

You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.

“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.

“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.

He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”

On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.

You refused to put him on your mental list.

~~~

You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.

When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.

It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.

How’s the single life treating you so far? -J

You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.

It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.

He was quick to throw it back.

That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..

You held in a breath.

More like whomever I’d like

You let out a shaky breath at his reply.

Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is

For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.

I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too

~~~

Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.

But it was.

One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.

“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.

“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.

“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”

“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”

Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.

“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”

“All right, have fun,” James replied.

“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.

You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.

“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”

Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.

“James I-”

“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.

“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”

“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”

He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”

“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.

His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.

“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”

“Good.”

He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.

“James,” you moaned.

He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.

“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.

You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.

“Your turn,” he said.

You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.

Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”

“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?

“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”

You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.

By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.

When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.

“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.

He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”

“For you yes.”

“How so?”

You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”

“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.

All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.

Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.

You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.

When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.

“That was...”

“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.

“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.

You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”

“Perhaps another go?”

That was an offer you could never refuse.

~~~

Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.

“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.

Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.

“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.

Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”

“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.

“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”

You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.

“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.

You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”

“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.

The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.

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reallyromealone · 3 months

Text

Title: oh look a mate (s)

Pairing: demon brother's x reader

Chapter 2

Fandom: obey me

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, nsfw content, angst, fluff, self hatred, reader has a lot of trauma, shitty family, toxic family, mentions of murder, attempted assassination mentioned

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

He remembered his first nest.

And how quickly his sister destroyed it.

His parents mocking him, his sister making him feel awful for having something like that.

This was what he thought of when he thought of inviting his family, that was the first memory he had.

He was eight at that time.

Staring at the paper, did he want to invite them?

"No, I don't think we're going to do that" he whispered to himself as he looked at the barely started letter, everytime he tried writing it another memory came back.

For once, he wanted something happy that they wouldn't intrude on.

This was for him.

Lucifer noticed something, something deeply concerning that he hadn't thought about till looking at (name) getting fitted for his wedding attire, he had no collar. His neck and scent glands exposed and no one caught this, how did they not notice this?! Lucifer looked at the ornate and beautiful collar he had commissioned, an expensive leather with their soulmate mark on a silver charm.

Simple but beautiful.

(Name) Was in his greenhouse again as Belphegor slept in the corner, (name) liked to think this was their hang out time because he would always appear when he was in here, it was nice.

(Name) Spoke about the things he was doing to the sleeping demon, a one sided conversation but (name) still enjoyed it as his happy pharamones filled the room "I'm growing tulips here, I think they would be lovely... I always loved them, they were my grandmothers favorites before she passed" he explained happily as he stretched "I think im done for the day" walking towards the demon he smiled "sorry but I'm going to need this, it's quite chilly today" he said as he went to take his cape but Belphegor had other ideas, pulling (name) in his embrace "this is very sweet but I think sleeping on a greenhouse ledge would hurt our backs"(name) said softly to the other who cracked an eye open and grunted "would you be willing to stay away a bit to go somewhere more comfortable?" He asked the Alpha who grunted "and where do you have in mind?"

Belphegor was a bit surprised when (name) had him teleport to (name)s space, the Omega leading him to his nest and gently pushing him in "much nicer!" He said simply as Belphegor let the other sit beside him as the demon pulled him close, already sleepy "you're a sleep demon right?" (Name) Asked curiously and Belphegor grunted "sloth avatar" his voice low and rumbly as (name) nodded "that must be tough"

"Not really... Now stop talking and sleep" he ordered the Omega who just let him hold him like a teddy bear.

The two slept for a few hours, the others looking for (name) everywhere before finding him in the nest "no fair, why does he get to go in the nest!" Beelzebub whined as (name) looked so peaceful "we'll get to go in it eventually" it was nice to see (name) let his guard down, he was sweet yes but always nervous...

"Let's let them sleep, his heats soon so it's best to let him conserve energy" Lucifer instructed as they begrudgingly left "I worry for his heat though " Asmodeus commented as they left the apartment and the others looked confused "he knows basically nothing... He's reading books to figure it out because he's worried he won't be good, I don't even think he's masturbated before" how could he? Suppressants basically knocked the libido out of you and not to mention his upbringing "a heat is scared, between an Omega and their body for the first few years and he was robbed of it" Satan said softly and they sighed, he couldn't have this heat by himself as their were traditions but they didn't want him going into his first heat after being in suppressants for years without knowing anything about sex.

"Maybe ask him if he wants to fuck?" Mammon said simply and Asmodeus glared at him "as much as I want that, we have to be delicate with him! Teach him how to pleasure himself!"

"Then let's to that then!" The white haired Alpha argued back and Lucifer and Satan just sighed and Levi wanted to just not be in this conversation anymore, embarrassed as hell.

(Name) Woke later on, The sun setting as Beelzebub walked in "have a good nap, sleepy?" He teased and (name) rubbed his eyes "how long did I sleep?" He whispered and Beelzebub chuckled "five hours"

"You guys let me sleep that long?!" He worried and the Alpha smiled "you were too cute to wake, now come on! It's dinner!" He seemed excited and (name) looked at Belphegor "don't worry about him, he usually gets leftovers later" Beelzebub lifted (name) as the Omega yelped "wait! I'm heavy!" He panicked and Beelzebub laughed "like holding a couple of grapes, don't worry I'm strong" he teased as they walked down the halls, the gluttony demon feeling how soft his mate was, face right near his chest... Nope don't get an erection right now! 'think of awful things!' he thought as he thought of the worst things imaginable, wasting food and uuuh Solomon shirtless!

'Bleh'

"There's the sleepy bunny~" Asmodeus teased, (name) looking a little disheveled as sleep still had him in a bit of a hold "sorry I slept so long..." He whispered and Mammon snorted "you were napping with Belph, he has that affect" the Omega nodded as Mammon put food on his plate, a bit extra as the Alpha felt the urge to make sure (name) was cared for.

They spoke of weddings and such as (name) enjoyed his meal, little chirps occasionally leaving his lips at the foods be particularly enjoyed as the demons watched happily "maybe when your garden is ready for harvest we can use them~" Lucifer on (name)s other side gently fixed the others shirt, a typical alpha grooming of his mate as he began (fixing/cleaning) his (hair/face) "how you manage to get dirty"

After dinner, (name) was curious as Lucifer halted him with Asmodeus standing beside him "could we talk to you? Just for a moment?" Lucifer asked the Omega who looked curious but nodded, letting Asmodeus take his hand as they went to Lucifer's office "we hope this isn't too forward darling but we wanted to ask..." Lucifer seemed to struggle on what to say exactly as Asmodeus stepped in "we want your first time to be memorable, not in the throws of heat where you may not remember and maybe understand your body more" Asmodeus said to the other who was now seated in a plush chair as Asmodeus crouched infront of him "you deserve to have your first time be on your terms and learn what you like, we don't have to have sex but would you be open to it?"

"I-I... Isn't mating for the alphas?" He was supposed to give alphas pleasure! He was an Omega!

"Oh darling no, Sex is supposed to be good for both parties, you and your comfort matter just as much as ours"

"You wouldn't see me as shameful for wanting that?" (Name)s voice barely above a whisper and the two got closer "darling im the avatar of lust, nothing you do would be shameful to me and Luci here just wants you to feel pride in yourself and your body" he explained and (name) felt his cheeks get wet with tears "promise?"

"Of course"

They set up for two days from now, Asmodeus would teach (name) about his body... Intimately.

And (name) was nervous but a heat pooled in his stomach he wasn't familiar with, ever since he stopped supressants his body had felt like shocks went through it whenever his alphas touched him, his omega quiet after so long begging him to do whorish things...

Oh god, he's been here a few weeks and he's already like this!

He wouldn't admit it but he liked how freeing it was, his mates never judging him....

They actively tried spending time with him, having him join their activities and lives.

He remembered when Lucifer tried teaching him how to ride a horse, the black haired demon sitting behind him on the stallion and guiding him gently, it was absolutely wonderful!

He wanted to treasure that memory forever...

Belphegor was still in the nest when (name) returned and changed into his sleep clothes getting comfortable and passing out as the sleep demon held him in a vice grip, possession absolutely noticable with the hold as (name) was soothed by how warm and cozy it felt.

(Sisters name) Was hysterical when the royal wedding was announced, a grand event that had the entire kingdom in a flurry of celebration as their town marketed that they were the town that had the Omega.

So she did what was logical.

Get rid of the problem in her life.

(Name) Wouldn't see what hit him.

"So, where do you feel most comfortable? This is about you" Asmodeus asked the Omega who fiddled with his hands and looked at his nest and his bed "would it... Be messy?"

"Only if we're doing it right~" he teased and kissed (name)s forehead "remember, this is what YOU want" he reminded (name) who looked at his bed and then his nest "nest?" He asked softly and Asmodeus smiled "of course, do I have permission to enter your pretty nest?" He asked as (name) got comfortable in it and the smile on (name)s face said a lot as he nodded, Asmodeus moving them so (name) was in his lap "remember what I taught you about safe words?" He asked the Omega who nodded "tell alpha" he commanded gently and smelt the small amount of slick that escaped the omegas body "green means good... Yellow means that I'm not sure and slow down and read is stop" he said confidently as Asmodeus kissed his neck lovingly "such a good boy" he whispered into his ear and smiled when (name) subconsciously bucked his hips, he knew this cutie had a praise kink.

After all, he always wanted to be good for him.

"Now, I'm going to remove your clothes, remember what to do if it gets uncomfortable" he said as he used his magic to make (name)s clothes vanish, the other covering himself shyly "none of that, let me see you" Asmodeus said sweetly as he watched (name) uncover himself and god, was his omega so pretty...

"Now, the first rule of sex is getting comfortable with your own body" Asmodeus explained as he took (name)s hands and moved them across the omegas own body "know what feels good" he pinched (name)s cute nipple before moving their hands lower "and to know what feels /great/" the demon wrapped their hands around (name)s cute Omegan cock that was already erect and gave it a tug, watching (name) throw his head back at the sensation "o-oh!" He was confused and awe struck by the sensation, this was way better than the pillow humping he had been pitifully been doing lately. "This is your pretty cock, stroke it, play with its head... It's yours to use whenever you want~" Asmodeus explained and (name) let out a shaky breath as they stroked his cock, legs spread across Asmodeus' own "and if we go lower, we have your ass" he whispered to (name) and smiled at how fucked out (name) looked already and they barely started "you gotta prep yourself real nice, slowly work your way in..."

(Name) Whined out as Asmodeus chuckled "none of that, pretty boy" he whispered as he pulled (name) into a sweet kiss, slipping his tongue in shortly after as he helped (name) loosen up with both of their fingers though Asmodeus was just guiding. "When you feel it's loose enough, slowly push in... Don't worry the slick will help you" he pulled away to continue his lesson with his omega who was already drooling and unfocused as Asmodeus gently helped him push in "all the way to the knuckle...~"

Asmodeus helped (name) fuck himself in one finger before slowly introducing a second finger, (name) could feel his erection on his back and rutted into it as his hips shook, his fingers felt good but not good enough... "It's not..." He couldn't figure out how to say it as Asmodeus kissed his scent gland "it's not what darling?" "M-more!" He cried out, fully lost in it as he pushed his hips up subconsciously.

"Do you want alpha to take care of you? Show you something great?" Asmodeus asked the other who wnined "what color are you baby?"

"Green!"

"Good boy"

Asmodeus removed (name)s fingers before replacing them with his larger ones, down to the knuckle before his other hand moved to the omegas cock "hey baby.. look at me" (name) complied as Asmodeus began thrusting against his prostate and jerking him off "shiaaa!" He could barely keep himself from cumming as he let out a loud cry, cum getting everywhere "and that pleasure button was your prostate... Use that whenever your heart desires ~ rub it and press it~" he said softly as (name) barely could stay awake "you wanna continue baby? Tell alpha"

"Gu-reen" he barely could sputter out and Asmodeus chuckled "you're too precious~ let's wash you up and feed you" he lifted (name) with ease and took him to the ensuite washroom "you did do good, you were so pretty~" he praised the Omega who was putty in his hold, (name) definitely bad a lot of time to make up for with how repressed the poor thing was sexually...

The other brothers stroked themselves vigorously as they heard the sounds of (name) being pleasured and inevitable climax that had the Omega screaming.

"He's fast asleep, poor thing wanted more but could barely stay awake" Asmodeus said fondly as the others gathered in the parlor "hes definitely eager, loves to be a good boy ~" the smell of a pleasured Omega was strong, the smell of (pharamones smell) stronger and sweeter "before I put him to bed, he asked if you guys could join next time ~ such a sweet little thing"

He definitely was going to be a good dam to their respective pups.

The other alphas were definitely interested in joining next time.

With the news of the wedding approaching, the men were taking even more precautions and safety measures for the Omega, already having three poisoning attempts and an assassin that they apprehended while (name) was sleeping.

Switching their cutlery to silver from gold and both the food tester and Beelzebub to test (name)s food, the demon immune thankfully as the rest.

At most he would just have a stomach ache for an hour.

It was intense, the men constantly worrying for him as he went about his day with more guards much to his confusion as the days ticked closer, the grand wedding hall being decorated along with the rest of the palace as guests from around the world began arriving as he took a walk through the gardens, the demons having (name)s favorite flowers planted as he was the one who frequented the area the most.

currently he was trying to find Lucifer, the demon wanting to have tea with him but (name) was a bit directionally challenged as he eventually spotted horns and black hair "you're late" Lucifer remarked without any bite as he stood for the Omega, checking him over "I have something for you" the demon didn't waste time as he pulled out the collar "it's not safe to be unprotected like this" his words simple as (name) looked at the collar.

His family never let him have one, a form of control he supposed and he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as the demon looked worried "do you not like it?" His voice laced with light panic and (name) shook his head "i-i never had one??" His voice confused but soon Lucifer clicked the situation together and smiled "I will never let you go without, my love" he gently put the collar on (name), the Omega dressing in more lace and delicate clothes these days as Asmodeus had a fixation on shopping for him, it went together quite well "beautiful..."

"You think?" (Name) Asked nervously and Lucifer leaned down and kissed him "we'll get you countless collars in any color you want" he said honestly before leading (name) to the garden table with treats and tea set up "now, shall we eat?"

(Name) Was curious as he was handed a letter from his family, his father's seal in wax staring back at him.He didn't know what to do, this would be the first time in over a month that he would be hearing from his family.

He didn't know what to expect.

"Are you alright, Darling?" That was also a few development with the demons, pet names.

And Satan surprisingly besides Asmodeus was very heavy with them.

"I... I received a letter from my family" Satan was immediately suspicious of this letter as he walked to his omega "do you trust me?" He asked the Omega who nodded obediently "of course" he chirped "could I see this letter? To soothe my nerves" (name) knew of the things that have been happening and nodded, handing him the letter without a second thought and the blond gently kissed him "thank you, my dear"

He had the two poison testers open the letter in a glass room, something their grandfather made when people began putting poisonous powder in letters, it wasn't poisoned thankfully.

That would make for an angry Satan :).

But the contents of the letter?

Oh.

Ohohoho.

That made for him to get so upset he transformed a little more demonic from rage.

'(name),

We have been informed by our neighbors about your wedding, a surprise to us all as you haven't even sent your family an invitation seeing as you stole your sisters moment and flaunted it infront of her.

We are thoroughly disappointed and appalled at your attitude and would expect you to invite your sister as she deserves to see the life you stole from her even just once.

We are expecting an invite promptly.

(Mother's name) And (father's name), (lastname)'

The audacity.

The sheer audacity of these people, how did (name) manage to be related to these insects of people?! "definitely not letting Belphegor read this" or maybe he should... No (name) would be upset.

"Maybe we should invite them... One last look at someone they took for granted" and before they kept (name) away forever.

Give him everything and more.

God he couldn't wait to give that cute Omega who was currently petting one of the off duty p

#obey me omegaverse #obey me x male reader #obey me x reader #x male reader #male reader #obey me smut #anime x male reader #anime x reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #belphegor x male reader #Lucifer x male reader #satan x male reader #beelzebub x male reader #asmodeus x male reader #mammon x male reader #leviathan x male reader

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idksmtms · 4 months

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For Anyone But Us (Criston Cole x Alicent's Daughter!reader)

A/N: Sorry Daeron, you didn’t exist here either

Summary: You had grown up with Ser Criston as your protector, and almost a father figure. You didn’t know when exactly you began to crave him in carnal ways, in ways that had you blushing redder than a summer strawberry and running to hide away. But now you can handle it no longer. You must have him.

Word count: 3,867

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap, oral f & m receiving, handjob, smut smut smut, self-hating, slightly manipulative reader (??), daddy issues, sexualising a father figure, era-typical negative view of sex, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You sat in your mother’s quarters, embroidery on your lap and a gentle melody humming from your lips. She was answering letters at her writing table while you reclined on her couch, enjoying the sudden breeze that had settled upon king’s landing and blew through her open windows. Occasionally you looked up to Ser Criston, standing stoic as ever by the door, and offered him a joyful little smile, one which he returned in his own muted way.

Since you were born, you have been your mother’s constant companion. From her breast to her lap to her side, you have spent almost your entire life beside her. You are her youngest child, the apple of her eye by far, and the one that looks most like her. When you cried, she was the only one to comfort you, when you showed an interest in music, she had the best musicians come to foster your talent, when you said you wanted to learn history, she had as many books as would fit in your chambers brought from the library. You may be half Targaryen, but you will always be Alicent’s daughter.

Due to being your mother’s constant companion, you soon became one for Ser Criston as well. Alicent trusted no guard more than Ser Criston and so he often had the task of being your carer. He has soothed your tears and washed your cuts when you’ve played too hard. He has tickled you until your laughs became shrieks and been the first to compliment every single one of your new dresses. You have grown up watching Ser Criston be your mother’s protector, be your protector. When you think of safety, you think of his face. So it makes sense that when you look upon his face as he watches out the window, a stoic set to his lips and brow, that your chest heats up and an errant throb pangs between your legs?

You don’t really remember when you started feeling this way for him. You vividly remember one night, a feast for some celebration or other, and your mother had gifted you a new dress made of silk dyed in thin red water to make the prettiest baby pink. The maids had done your hair with intricate braids and curls that fell down your back but left your neck and chest exposed. You had rushed out of your room and found Ser Criston first, hopping in front of him to show off the dress. You had spun around in excitement, swishing the skirt of your dress back and forth and asking him what he thought. He had said you were the most beautiful girl in the world with a smile on his face and those dark eyes of his that never truly softened and kept a certain harsh quality to them. Your whole chest had turned red and your stomach had twisted in the most pleasurable way and you had wanted him to watch you for the rest of eternity. Even during the feast you had kept standing by him despite your siblings scolding you to mingle, pouting like a child if he turned his attention away from you for even a minute.

Another memory, only a few years past, when Aegon had said something to upset you and you had come sobbing to your mother. After soothing your tears she had left you in her quarters under the watchful eye of Ser Criston to go and scold Aegon. You had sidled up to him, asking if whatever taunt Aegon had made was true. He had been quick to shush you, telling you that Aegon was a young man and he could still be stupid, that you needn’t take everything he said to heart. You had pressed yourself to his chest then, wrapping your arms around the armour on his midriff. He had gently rubbed your back for a few moments before clearing his throat and pulling away, guiding you back to the couch and bringing you whatever embroidery project you had left on the side table. But the feeling of his large hand on your back, his palm and fingers spanning so wide, his smell and even the look of his skin from so close had stuck inside your mind and body and you had tossed and turned that entire night to thoughts of him.

You startled out of your thoughts of the man when your mother abruptly stood from her chair, tutting as she mumbled to herself about the time. You knew she was overdue to tea with Larys Strong so you smiled cheekily at her as she breezed past you, pressing a kiss to your head before heading to the door.

“Ser Criston, stay here with Y/n, I shall take Ser Berrill with me to my meeting,” and she was out the door before Criston could nod his assent.

You smiled then, looking to where Ser Criston stood and abandoning your embroidery to skip over to him. He smiled at you, bowing his head in greeting and you giggled. Criston didn’t know when that had become his favourite sound in the world but it was better than even the Septon bells on a wedding day.

“I think I shall head back to my quarters Ser Criston, accompany me?” You asked, reaching to grab his arm and threading yours through his. Criston cleared his throat and nodded, his neck and cheeks going hot at the feeling of your body pressed so close to his side. It was inappropriate for a girl of your age and stature to be standing so close to him. But you had been doing this all your life, and despite the whispers that now began to pervade the keep about this behaviour, you refused to stop. (And of course Ser Criston was incapable of saying no to you).

Criston opened the door and led the way out into the hallway, walking slow enough for you to keep pace with him. You were chattering on about something or other, he was too busy surveying your surroundings to fully pay attention, and the glimpse of your breasts that he caught every time he looked down to you was enough for him to keep his eyes away from your form completely.

“...and that’s why Aemond has cemented his place as my favourite brother.” You giggled and he couldn’t help but look down to you again, smiling distractedly when he caught sight of the way your breasts curved under your emerald green gown, at the slight bumps of your nipples that he could see through the fabric.

“He is a true prince of the realm and a great brother for you, Princess,” Criston answered, hoping it would be enough of an answer for you. You smiled and nodded and began on another story but stopped as you reached the doors to your chambers. You paused outside the door, opening and closing your mouth a few times. You chewed at the tip of the nail on your index finger and looked up at Criston with big doe eyes that had his entire body clenching up.

“Ser Criston… would you come into my chambers with me? I don’t particularly feel like being alone right now.” You were twisting side to side at the waist lightly, hoping he would cave.

“I do not think that is appropriate Princess,” he replied quietly, voice going low and gruff.

“Please, Ser Criston? There is nothing wrong with my protector joining me in my chambers,” you argued, eyes going teary.

“Princess…” he sighed, shaking his head. “We may know we are not doing anything scandalous but others will not know. I will not be responsible for anyone questioning your honour.” You sighed, almost admitting defeat, before looking up at him once more.

“What if there is someone in there right now, waiting to destroy my honour? Then it would be irresponsible of you not to accompany me into my chambers,” you smiled triumphantly, before quickly pouting again when you remembered that cheekiness would not work in your favour.

“Do not speak of such things Princess,” he replied sharply, swallowing aggressively at the thought of someone daring to come close to you with those intentions.

“Then do not risk it Ser Criston and accompany me into my chambers,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Criston sighed once more before nodding in acquiescence. He knew you would always win, it was only a matter of how long he was willing to fight against you.

You smiled brightly and grabbed onto his arm, dragging him into the room with you and shutting the door firmly behind you, sliding the lock closed before Criston could even realise you had done it.

You leaned back against the door and watched him stand in the middle of the room, looking around the entire room before deeming it safe for you. He turned back to you and saw the mischievous smile on your face before sighing once more.

“The room is safe Princess, I must return to my guardpost now,” he said, but he knew it would be easier said than done leaving now that he was inside. You just shook your head, continuing to block the door.

“But I don’t feel safe Ser Criston, you must stay and continue protecting me,” you whined, rushing forward and falling to your knees right in front of him. You clasped one of his hands between yours and pouted as he began trying to get you to stand up. If someone walked in now and saw the princess on her knees in front of a knight, he would be sent to death quicker than he could pray for forgiveness.

“Stand up Princess, please, you should not be on the floor,” he sounded pained, holding onto your elbows and trying to get you to stand without yanking you up. You just shook your head and did something that made his heart stop directly in his chest. You brought his hands to your lips and gently kissed the backs of both, staring up at him from under fluttering eyelashes.

“This is exactly where I should be, Ser Criston. You have protected me my entire life, you have cared for me like no other, loved me like no other. I am devoted to you even beyond the gods. It is only right that I show you my devotion, show you my thanks, right here on my knees.” All breath abandoned him as he looked upon you, innocent and pure, on your knees with your face right by his cock. He swallowed harshly, shaking his head. No, no, no. He could not do this. He had abandoned his vows once already. And while he wholeheartedly believed that if he abandoned them with you then it wouldn’t be a waste as it had been with Rhaenyra, the thought of sullying you, of allowing himself to feel all that… heat and desperation, filled him with a shame that would eventually kill him.

“Princess, please heed my words, you cannot do this, we cannot do this. You say I have protected you my entire life, and it is from this too I have protected you. From the men who wish to steal your honour and sully your body. I will not be one of them.” He wanted to sound firm but it came out pleading, almost verging on a desperate whine that had you frowning and tilting your head.

“I only want you, Ser Criston. I don’t want any other, and I know I never will. You have never denied me anything, please do not deny me this,” your lip began to wobble and tears pooled so quickly in your eyes that they began to spill over before he could try and sway you away. You began to blubber and he dropped to his knees awkwardly in his armour,

“Please don’t cry Princess, please don’t cry,” he begged, throwing off his gloves and cupping your face with his hands as you began to sniffle. His skin was rough and warm and you rubbed your cheek into his palm like a puppy.

“You will not be sullying me, you will still be protecting me. If you do this for me then I will know what love feels like and I will know how to judge a suitor. I-I will know what pleasure feels like,” you added shyly, leaning closer to him. “You will only be teaching me. There is nothing wrong with teaching, you have been teaching me and my brothers since we were children.”

Criston sighed and shook his head, grunting at the battle that waged a war in his head. He closed his eyes, knowing that if he kept looking at you he would break much too quickly. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this for anyone. It was wrong to be such a lustful creature. But you whimpered and whined in his hands, turning to press open-mouthed kisses against his palms and he could feel the cracks appearing in his resolve along with his shame. When you took his index finger into your mouth, sucking on it like a child with a treat, the feeling of your warm, wet, mouth had spikes of hot pleasure shooting through his body and any remaining resolve dissolving as easier than salt into water.

Criston moaned, too loud for his liking, and his breath shook out of him, head bowing as he panted against his chest. You could see the change in him, could see that you had won as his free hand began to roughly tug at the straps of his chestplate. It fell away and clattered onto the floor as you continued sucking on his finger, swirling your tongue around the digit. Criston sucked in a breath before pulling his finger from your mouth, cupping your cheek with the same hand and spreading your spit over your face. He pulled you into a kiss, a harsh thing that had you gasping and keening and yelping slightly when your bottom lip pinched between his mouth and your teeth. But all bonds on him had been unleashed, and he was ravenous.

You fell against him, becoming just as desperate though with far less experience. You shoved your hands into his hair and pressed your chest to his, settling yourself onto his lap as he fell back onto the floor, torso held up by his elbows. He plunged his tongue into your mouth while you collected your skirts into your hands so you could sit on him without any intrusion. Criston pulled away from you, panting against your mouth for a moment before gently shoving you off and standing up again. He began undoing the rest of his armour and you sat on your knees and watched him. His hair was mussed from your hands and his cheeks had gone rosy pink. You heard the clanks of metal as each piece fell away and more of his body was revealed to you. The soft clothes he wore underneath were next, his shirt pulled over his head and tossed to the side without a care in the world.

The soft bronze skin of his abdomen was taut and curved along each defined muscle. A light dusting of dark hair sat along his chest and trailed down his stomach until it disappeared below his breeches. You couldn’t handle being away from him any longer, a desperate heat crawling over your skin as if bugs had begun buzzing under your skin.

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were right before him. You pressed a hand to the warm skin of his stomach, lightly scratching your nails down toward the waist of his pants. He shuddered, curling forward slightly and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Princess…” he sighed, but he didn’t stop you either.

You slipped your fingers into the waistband and slowly began to move it down. His cock caught in it before popping out and gently slapping against his abdomen. You stared at it, mouth suddenly full of saliva and legs trembling. You reached out and grasped it, the skin soft and burning hot. The tip was bright red and glistening, a small pearl dribbling out of it and sliding down the length. Another pearl dribbled onto your hand and you tightened your hold on him, listening to the gasps and moans he let out. You didn’t know where the desire to kiss it, to lick it, came from but you didn’t deny a single thing your body desired. You leaned forward and licked just under the head of his cock, smacking your lips slightly to try and decipher what exactly the taste was, before going in for another lick. You ran your tongue up the length of his shaft and back down. The hand on your shoulder clenched tight into your gown and pulled you closer to him. You opened your mouth wide and took the head just past your lips, suckling on it. You stared up into Criston’s face, his mouth open as he panted and moaned like he was in the most pain a man had ever felt. The sounds of your mouth smacking as you suckled on his cock echoed into the room and you rubbed your legs together. It sounded so wrong but oh so good.

You pulled off of his length before going back to drag long licks along the length of his shaft. Everywhere you could reach you licked until Criston was keening loudly and pulling away.

“Princess! Princess, please,” he huffed, cupping your face as you sat there staring up at him. You reached to your back and pulled on the ties to unlace your dress as much as you could on your own. The top loosened and the collar fell below your breasts, baring them to the cool air and the eyes of your protector. Your nipples had pebbled and you shivered as the cool air of the keep brushed over your skin.

Criston stood you up and you allowed the dress to fall fully to your waist, smiling unashamedly as he continued to stare at your body. You wanted him to see you, to see every part of you. You loved him like you had loved no other, and you wanted to show him somehow. He led you to your bed, sitting on the edge and staring up at you. He bent forward and kissed the space between your breasts, rubbing his cheeks against the flesh on either side of his head. He breathed in the smell of your skin, kissing along the softness to your left nipple. He swirled his tongue over it, flicking it, before engulfing it with his mouth and sucking lightly. His mouth felt too hot against your skin and you moaned as you leaned back slightly to continue watching him.

Criston pulled away and cupped your other breast, massaging it and rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb. It felt almost ticklish on the sensitive skin but sparks shot through you all the same.

“Ser Criston,” you whimpered, pressing your chest further into his hand and hoping he would put his mouth back to the skin.

“Yes, Princess, yes,” he said hurriedly, but instead of returning to your breasts, he bent at the waist and brought his face to your pussy. You gasped, his thumbs resting against either side and peeling your sticky lips apart.

You had felt the slick begin to seep out of you and slowly spread from your hole and over your lips, but to see his face begin to press between your thighs, to feel his thumbs gently rub the soft skin and hear the way he inhaled deeply as he settled his chin on the crevice of your thighs had you moaning louder than you ever had before.

“We must be quiet Princess,” he whispered, but you paid it no heed as he dove his tongue between your thighs right then.

His tongue was hot and wet, the rough bumps rubbing deliciously against the sensitive skin of your pussy. He licked from bottom to top before focusing on a little nub near the top of the crevice, suckling on it so heat shot straight through you and your legs buckled. You were bowing over him now, nails digging into the skin of his back as you rested on his shoulder, panting and wailing. He lapped at your cunt like a dog drinking water, desperate and aggressive. He slurped and pressed his face as far as it would go into your flesh. You could feel his chin rub against the skin of your thighs, slipping and sliding in the juices that had dribbled out of you. From this angle only the tip of his tongue could reach your hole and he pushed it in just so, pulling it out and pushing it back in so your entrance clenched and unclenched over it, the rim becoming sensitive.

“Ser Criston!” You wailed, bucking against his face as he moved it back and forth, his nose rubbing against that swollen little nub that made you feel like the world was bursting behind your eyes.

You pressed your mouth to his back, and in a fleeting moment of clarity remembered that he needed to reach his release as well. You slid one of your hands between your bodies and grasped his cock, choking on a gasp when he moaned right into your flesh and the vibrations spread through every nerve ending. You grasped him tighter and he hissed. You mumbled apologies into his skin before beginning to jerk your hand back and forth along his shaft, listening to the squelch of not only his mouth on your pussy but his cum spreading over his shaft beneath your hand. The pleasure rose within you, his hips bucked frantically up into your hand, your legs twitched uncontrollably, your skin was on fire. Everything felt like it was moving too fast all of a sudden, a wave rising in your legs and stomach and deep in your core. He was moaning against you and the vibrations finally sent you over the edge, heat and overwhelming pleasure throbbing through you. Your fingers twitched and your arms felt like jelly and your ears were rushing with blood. You couldn’t hear Criston’s moans as he spurted onto your thighs and hands, as he pressed his face to your stomach and moaned.

When your ears quieted you could hear the mingling of both of your panted breaths, could feel the saliva that had drooled from your mouth and smeared onto his back under your cheek. Your weight was completely resting over his shoulder and you could feel the stickiness all along your thighs, the breeze beginning to cool it and sending shivers down your spine. Your hand was sticky and you slowly peeled it away from his cock. Criston shivered and slowly brought you off his shoulder and into his lap. You stared into his eyes, deep brown and endless. He leaned down and kissed you, lips salty and slick.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” you said, smiling against his mouth.

Taglist: @autumnhymns

#hotd x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #criston cole x you #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole x oc #ser criston #alicent hightower #queen alicent #alicent's daughter reader #team green #hotd smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

1K notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

Note

Ever since that running aemond pic came out I've been thinking non stop about his thighs so... would you like to write something involving riding aemond's thigh? I have no other wishes and I totally get it if you think that's not enough of a prompt. You can ignore this if you want but I'd love to see what you can come up with!

You asked for this back in June, I'm so sorry for how long this has taken me. I am a shambles of a human being, truly. I hope you've stuck around long enough to see this!

Warnings: Thigh riding, smut, me playing fast and loose with canon. Word count: ~1.3k

The candle that rests beside her on the reading table burns low as she sits in her and Aemond’s marital chambers. The book that is spread out in front of her, Coming of the Andals, lays unread; her fingers tap anxiously against its pages, as her eyes remain fixed upon the door.

Aemond had been called to a meeting of the Small Council. They both knew why, it has been a long time coming. The injuries that Aegon sustained during the battle of Rook’s Rest have left him bedridden, he is no longer fit to rule, and their grandsire’s capacity for what he can do in his stead has reached its limit. Westeros needs a Targaryen upon the throne, and Aemond is next in line. It is a position she knows that her husband is all too eager to fill.

He ought to be back by now though, it has been hours. The evening grows late, and she has long since sent away her chambermaids, refusing to be readied for bed. She has no desire to sleep until Aemond returns, so she forgoes the comfort of her nightgown, despite longing to unlace the meticulously fastened ribbons that hold her bodice tightly in place against her ribcage.

Tiredness and impatience pluck at her nerves, making her shift irritably in her chair. She startles at a polite rap at the door, if it was Aemond then he would simply walk in, he would not bother to knock. Her brow furrows in confusion as she rises, walking towards the door to open it.

She looks down into the wide eyed anticipation of one of the Keep’s page boys. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Apologies for the disturbance at such a late hour, Princess, Prince Aemond has requested your presence in the throne room.”

She sighs, nodding and bidding the young lad goodnight, before snuffing out the candle and making her way through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards the Great Hall. The walk is long, and she is grateful she has not yet changed into her nightclothes, as the gown she wears does little to keep the chill of the castle air from nipping at her skin. She would feel annoyed at Aemond insisting she come all this way, were it not for the mixture of curiosity and excitement that flutters lightly in her chest.

Pushing open the great oak and bronze doors, her eyes scan the long carpet that stretches the length of the room, up to the high, narrow steps that lead to the raised iron dais. Aemond sits upon the throne. She stands silently as she regards him. His arms rest on either side of the asymmetrical tangle of jagged and twisted blades, long fingers curled around the makeshift armrests.

He is dressed as he was when he had left her earlier that evening; black, leather tunic, black breeches and leather boots, except this time the Conqueror’s crown sits atop his snowy head of hair, the Valyrian steel and rubies gleaming iridescent in the moonlight. He cuts quite the imposing figure as his single eye stares at her impassively.

Slowly, she descends the steps into the Hall, making her way along the carpet, maintaining eye contact with her husband the entire time. His lips quirk, the faintest trace of amusement tugging at their corners as he observes the unhurried pace with which she moves. It is not until she stands before the throne that he bothers to speak.

“It is not polite to keep your King waiting,” he utters quietly.

“Prince Regent,” she corrects him. “And it is not becoming of a King to rouse ladies from their slumber in the middle of the night.”

He huffs through his nose, smirking at her as he leans forward slightly. “You do not appear to be dressed for sleep. I must say, I am disappointed.”

“It is improper for a lady to greet the King in such a state of undress, or is that how you will have all the ladies of the court attend to you?”

“Hmmm. I have not yet decided how I would like you to attend to me. Will you curtsy to me?”

“Never,” she whispers with a playful giggle.

“Such insolence must be met with the King’s justice.”

She takes his hand as he offers it out, gasping as he tugs her forcefully up to him, her knees landing either side of one of his, as she sits against his thigh. Even through her skirts she can feel the unyielding sharpness of the throne beneath them. She steadies herself, placing her hands upon the smooth suppleness of the leather that covers his shoulders.

Aemond grasps her waist with one hand, the other moving to weave itself into her hair, as his eye drinks her in. She allows her gaze to wander to the crown, taking in the way it sinks into the thick silkiness of his hair.

“It suits you,” she says quietly.

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“And is this what has kept you from our bed?”

“I wanted you to see.”

He flexes his thigh, raising his leg to brush against her clothed core and she sucks in a shaky breath, the sensation causing a jolt that makes her throb with want.

“I would have seen…” she retorts with a slight whine, as the hand holding her waist moves to her hip, gripping it tightly and encouraging her to grind against him.

“Not like this,” he hisses, tugging her head back by her hair and mouthing hotly at her neck.

She moans, her nails digging into his shoulders to ground herself, as she fucks herself against his thigh, aided by the occasional bounce and flex of the muscle from Aemond. The ache between her legs is almost unbearable, the gusset of her smallclothes growing sticky with arousal, as the sensation of his lips upon her flesh makes her shudder.

“This moment is just for us,” he mutters, pushing and pulling her more forcefully against him, encouraging her to move faster. “But we shall have many more like it.”

“Gods, Aemond, please,” she whimpers, insides clenching around nothing as the friction against her aching pearl grows more intense.

“I will fuck a babe into you upon this throne,” he snarls, shifting his hand from her hair to pluck harshly at the lacings of her gown, before tugging down her bodice and wrapping his lips around the peak of her breast.

Arching against him, she buries her hands in his hair, keeping him anchored to her chest. The warmth of his scalp and the softness of the tresses between her fingers are oddly juxtaposed with the hardened coolness of the Valyrian steel that crowns Aemond’s head, but she has little time to dwell upon it.

She cants wantonly against Aemond’s leg, the pressure in her lower belly increasing, aided by the swirl of his wet tongue against her sensitive nipple. When it finally yields, she collapses forward against him with a strangled cry of pleasure, a rush of wetness soaking her smallclothes and leaving a damp patch on the area of her husband’s trousers that she rests against. Warmth cascades over her body, making her feel boneless as she pants for breath and Aemond’s lips release her with a wet pop.

He holds her steady, leaning back to look at her, as a cat might regard a mouse it toys with. His hooded eye roves over her glassy eyes, her parted lips, her bare chest, before he lifts a hand to adjust his crown slightly. “Hmmm. Yes. It makes everything look better.”

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writeroutoftime · 1 year

Text

women run the world

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (requested by: anon)

summary: after comforting eloise about a woman's lack to education, anthony makes a less than ideal comment that does not end well for him

warnings: none besides anthony's stupidity

words: 1.1k

a/n: another request from forever ago, but it is finally seeing the light of day! anyway, we love anthony, but sometimes he doesn't always think before he speaks, also this GIF just made me laugh and I thought it fit well with this fic lol. this was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you that you enjoy it! as always, please let me know what you think, and have a fantastic day!

oOoOo

Dearest Reader, Even within the most ideal love match our society has to offer, there is always the possibility for miscommunication - as was the case between one Lord and Lady y/n Bridgerton. However, this author has discovered that Lady Bridgerton has set the record straight for Lord Bridgerton, and for that, she has my sincerest gratitude. Lady Whistledown's Society Papers

Eloise slammed her book shut, groaning in frustration, which pulled you and the other Bridgertons from their own little bubbles.

"Whatever is the matter, Eloise?" Daphne asked calmly, looking up from her newest arrangement on the harpsicord.

With a dry chuckle, Eloise opened her mouth. "Why is it that the men in this country are afforded every opportunity for education, yet so many of them squander it when there are countless women dying for a chance to continue their education? I mean, what do I have to do for a chance to go to university?" she ranted.

"We live in a time where those in charge have small minds, and are fearful of what women could do if given the chance to achieve more." you offered gently, knowing the reasoning would do little to soothe her anger. "I happen to think you would thrive at university, and I know you could show everyone that us women are just as equal as men."

Before Eloise could offer her thanks, an almost indistinguishable chuckle came from the chair next to you. Your head immediately whipped to the side, eyes directly on your husband as he continued to read his newspaper.

"Was there something amusing that I said?" you dared to ask, voice low and spine stiff.

Anthony folded his paper before looking back at you. A whisper of a smile still on his lips. "I simply find the thought of women at university alongside men an outlandish thought." he began. "Do you not think women would already be allowed in if there was this equality between the sexes? I mean there are distinct physical differences, so it goes to reason that there would be differences in other areas as well."

The moment the words left his lips, the entire room went silent, and all seven other heads in the room snapped towards Anthony in varying degrees of shock. The women looked appalled at the words their brother had spoken while Colin and Benedict (and even young Gregory) shook their heads, knowing Anthony was in for it.

It was no secret to the Bridgerton family, nor to the ton, that you held rather "revolutionary" ideas about women's equality and place in society. At least, you thought the Bridgerton family knew, but it seemed as though your husband did not fall into that category.

Jaw tense, you took a deep breath, trying to find the apprioate words for this situation. "Anthony, is that how you truly feel?"

It was as though Anthony sensed he had misspoken, but was unable to stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth. "I-I suppose so."

The anger melted off your features only to be replaced with an eerily calm look as you spared your husband a glance. "You're right, my dear, there are distinct differences between our two sexes. In fact, you have just proven mine and Eloise's point that our society is ruled by those with small minds. If you could only see that the world around us would not function without the women in your life. The fact that you seemingly do not see that makes me question who it is I married. Excuse me." you finished before you stormed out of the drawing room and towards your bedroom.

Silence permeated the drawing room, and no one knew what to say next. Anthony sat frozen in his chair, staring at the spot you had just been in, unsure how the conversation had spiraled in such a direction. Unsurprisingly, it was Eloise who spoke first, directed towards her eldest brother.

"Truly unbelievable, brother. Are you going to continue to sit there or are you going to go after your wife?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

To his credit, Anthony had the decency to look sheepish as he slid off his chair and went to go after you, leaving his younger siblings laughing at his expense. Though none of them followed either of you, they could only imagine the scolding her would receive.

Anthony hesitantly knocked on your bedroom door, pushing it open slightly after a few moments with no response. "y/n?" Anthony prodded, peaking into the shared room. His eyes fell on your curled up figure on top the bed and he sighed heavily. "My love, I wish to apologize."

"Apologize for what? For what you said or because you made me angry?" you tested, wanting Anthony's apology to be genuine and for the right reasons not because he was told to.

Your husband looked frozen in shock, and you watched as the gears in his mind worked overtime to figure out the correct answer. "Uhhh, both?" he finally answered, though it came out more like a question.

With a huff, you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. "Is that what you truly believe, Atnhony? Because if it is I don't know how this marriage is going to succeed. I thought you knew what I believed when we agreed to be together. Or was that all just to placate me in order to wed and bed me?"

"No, no, that's not true at all!" Anthony rushed to get out, and in an instant he was kneeling by your side. "y/n, I know my words were pigheadish and utterly inappropriate. I suppose I sometimes let the opinions of the ton guide my thoughts, even when they are wrong." he began, quickly holding up a hand before you could interject.

"I know, I know that does not excuse my actions. I want you to know that I fully support you in all possible ways, and I love you for your mind." he told you, offering a gently kiss to your knuckles. "You may scold me as long as you see fit, but please know I am by your side in all manners."

You were silent for a few moments, analyzing and decoding Anthony's confession. But you knew by the way his eyes soften and looked up at you with love and adoration he was completely sincere. Of course, that doesn't mean you still couldn't have your fun.

"Good." you simply said, leaning down to hover mere inches from Anthony's lips. He gratefully moved to close the gap, but you placed your hand on his chest to stop him. "Because women run the world, Lord Bridgerton. And don't you forget it." you whispered before you pushed away and left the room, leaving Anthony panting with a shiver down his spine as he watched your retreating form.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #rita writes

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nerujikam · 5 months

Text

Old Sweater

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

tags 18+, fluff and smut, timeskip!ushijima, pwp, sleepy sex, clothed sex, cunnilingus, creampie, aftercare, pet nickname, i was ovulating

words 2,174

a/n and so, behold... my first smut... *thunder cracks* this was a pretty old draft dating back to may '22 lmao. figured i'm a lot more comfortable in my writing now, why not post it? this was crossposted on ao3 ! anws, happy reading or something!

art is @hk_smith_man’s on twt

Ushijima comes home late again. This time he finds it a little odd when the only source of light that came from the living room was the table lamp beside the couch, with a book you’re reading under it. You never forget to turn off every light when you go to sleep. Though, it does feel kind of lonely since you were practically a night owl on your working days. Now that you finally got your days off, you started to sleep earlier than usual. He misses the sight of you in the late of night, you can say.

He turns the lights off after putting his shoes on the rack. A faint beat can be heard from your shared bedroom, questioning him whether you’re awake or not.

Your body slump under the blanket. Though the heater’s on, the winter wind seems to have its own way seeping through the walls, shuddering you under the covers. Just like how you left it before, the small reading light next to you was still on.

He walks up to you, eyes closed as your breath steady. Seems you got defeated by your own drowsiness while trying to continue reading another book in your hands. He takes it away from your hand, placing the bookmark in the current page before putting it down next to the table lamp. He decides to turn it off later after his shower.

Ushijima closes the bathroom door from the inside, not wanting to wake you up with the loud noise from the hairdryer. He brushes his teeth, puts on his night cream, and turns off the bathroom light before joining you under the cover. He realized that the sweater from his high school volleyball team framed your body. He’s an even bigger and stronger guy now compared to then, yet his sweater still fits loosely on your frame. He wonders if it would make any difference if he met you in high school.

The thought of that tightened his arms around your waist, causing you squirming under him. He realized he woke you up when he heard a faint, “Toshi,” and a cold palm on his cheek. He grabs your cold hand to warm them, placing longing kisses on its knuckles, “sorry, did I wake you up?” You shake your head, turning back to your former position.

“I don’t mind,” you reassure. Ushijima pressed his forehead on your nape and kissed in between it and your spine, carrying out a soft “I missed you,” from your lips.

Ushijima never was a person who relies on verbal affection, so he alternates them more with acts of service, especially in giving. Warm baths after working overtime, a new shelf for your little trinkets, your favorite scented candles, sometimes even phoning his own dad, asking how to season the porridge properly when you had a cold. In rare cases, he'd mutter an “I missed you, too” back, instead of pressing his body closer into you like right now. He squeezes tight, not letting the cold get in between the two of you. He slides his hand down to your thigh to knead them gently before putting it in between them.

His eyelids flutter back awake as he feels a damp spot on your underwear. He gazes down at your eyelashes as you let out a sigh when he puts his hand down there. “You missed me this much?” he teases with a slight naught on his tone. You let out another sigh as he stroked your inner thighs, letting his wrist rub against your wet spot.

The blanket ruffles as his hand makes its ways to your—his—sweater, lifting it up to feel the warmth of your belly. His lips now behind your ear, fluttering kisses and sucking on the skin around it. Your hand found his when he started to slide down, playing with the waistband, eventually slithered inside, stroking between your folds.

So wet, he groans, wondering how you kept this long enough without doing anything about it.

“Want me to do something with this?” he whispered, asking one more time, fingers circling between you. Whining at his motion, you sigh, "please... Toshi,” you let out a breathy voice to call his name.

With your plea, he flips you up, rolls himself on top of you to lower himself, marking down your jaws, trailing up kisses to your lips. You nip gradually on his bottom lip before receiving his tongue. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your hands stroking alongside his neat undercut. You opened your eyes slowly when he pulled back to see his own eyelids hung low, looking either very tired or very much turned on. The edge of his lips were soft from the toothpaste and the lip balm you share with him, smooth and glistening prior to your make out session.

“Keep this on,” he demands as he slides his whole body down. His hands trails up to your breasts, exposing them to the cold air whilst still keeping his sweater intact on you. He positions his shoulders under your thighs. You were surprised that, The Ushijima Wakatoshi, is willing to deal with something that was your own consequences, with his own mouth and tongue. You held it hours ago, wanting his way first rather than relying on your toys. You’re sure that he’ll come home eventually for this before eventually giving in to your heavy eyelids.

He places one, two, three kisses on the inner thigh slowly leading them up to the center of your wet panties. He pushes down your thighs towards him, licking the damp spot as if making out on it. You let out a high pitched whine from your lips. He ever so slowly pulls down your underwear you’ve been so desperate to be out of. His hot breath blows cold air between them with an eventful languid stroke. Your brain clouded, eyes rolled shut at the sight in the dark. You see nothing but flashes of sparks from the noises he made lapping his tongue over you.

Just as you feel his wet muscle fiddling around the sensitive bud, he (with the audacity) decided to suck on it, alternating between licking wet stripes along the core. You finally let out a moan, grabbing the sheets and his hair messy, pushing him further into you, grinding your own crotch towards him. One finger found his way, rubbing your entrance as the tip of his tongue fiddling your clit.

You throw your head back with your face behind your hand as his middle finger finally reaches in, unsteadily sliding in and out up till the spot where you buck your hips to its contact. Feeling your reaction, he slides in another finger, pressing and focusing them more on the gummy spot within, curling them ever so often. His jaw hardened, constantly fiddling his tongue around your clit, putting pressure on it while the tips of his dominant fingers hitting the same spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your walls start to squeeze as your breath gets shaky. His fingers never stop thrusting in and out with a pace you never felt even when you do it yourself. Your back arches before being held down by his non-dominant hand, pressing down on your pelvis as your leg becomes a moving mess before you feel the snap under your belly. You shake as your thighs close around his head, feet pushing on his shoulders unaware. Your vision slurs.

Lips soaked in your own slick, Ushijima licked you down clean as if collecting it after your intense height, giving them one more wet smooch before hovering his body above you. He sucks down his middle and ring finger, cleaning up your mess on him. You raise your hands and grab his cheeks to give yourself a taste, tongue constantly encountering his in between kisses. You push him up, rolling up on your knees, positioning yourself on his lap, not separating your lips.

You eventually pull away with a kiss on his cheek, your hands on his jaw as you find yourself out of breath. You give yourself a view of him with your thumb on his chin. He licked the bottom of his lip before biting them, eyes hazed staring up to yours. His whole face became more and more of a mess, hair disheveled from your constant pulling, lips swollen and soaked down until his chin. You always love seeing him all wet from his own work on you.

It was impossible for you to not get turned on by him all messy and drunk from your cunt. You tug on his waistband, pulling down his PJs alongside his boxers. It’s obvious how hard he is with the ill bulge he had the whole time. His cock springs up as you pull his boxers down, tip flushed and slick, desperate to be inside you. You stroke along the shaft, spreading his own precum as you readied yourself on him. But he insisted. He rolls you back down on your back, holding the back of your thighs, teasing his tip around on your core.

You didn’t have a chance to look where the both of you met before gasping at the sudden intrusion. You were still sensitive and the slick of your pussy prior to his work makes the both of you moan as he slides in. His hips rolled and bucked on you, thrusting deliciously, tip reaching up to the familiar gummy spot.

“You look so good fucked in my sweater like that, dove,” he moans in your ear in the pleasure of your hips meeting his, pelvis to pelvis. The way he whispered that little pet nickname and moaned right into your ears clutches your core. You put your arms around his shoulders, legs wrapping around him, holding on for life as he pounds harder (you swore the bed could crack any minute).

“I’m…” you gasp in between thrusts before you continue, “I’m on birth— ah!”

You couldn’t continue as he pushed one deep thrust, already knowing what you meant. He groans feeling your tightened walls sucking him in as he starts to roll his hips in a way it touches the parts you never knew you’d reach. He pushes your knees to your chest, thrusting in deeper. You feel his skin constantly slapping on your clit, building you up to another climax.

With a groan and his head buried into your shoulder, he came in a rut. Pace went sloppy and eventually filled his warmth inside you. His moans cracked a higher pitch before he finally emptied out on his last thrust. Both of you laid there catching your breath.

He pulls himself out of you, leaving a whine from your lips from the sudden emptiness. You sigh, feeling his cum slowly spilling out of you. Ushijima muttered a low, "fuck," as he looks down and squeezed your thighs, eyeing the sight of you leaking from his cum.

Making sure you’re fine, he hovers above you, a hand on your jaw as he kisses the edge of your lips. Raising his head to look at you as you open your eyes. Greeted by the sight of his softened features, you smile with a sigh and caress his cheek.

He’s worried, you thought. Ushijima brushes out the strands of hair from your face and places a soft, longing kiss on your temple before walking up towards the bathroom.

You hear the tap running for a while before he comes out with a warm damp towel. He gently grabs your thigh to wipe down the remaining of his cum that has spilled out of you. You sigh from the warmth of the towel.

“You need to go to the toilet,” he states suddenly. You furrow your eyebrows trying to process his instruction before realizing what he meant. You nod, “right,” you prop yourself up to sit.

“Can you walk?” he asks. You thought a bit before nodding as he grabbed onto you in case you wobble and fall. You chuckle in contrast to his worry because you did walk fine. Just a little sore. You walked to the bathroom to pee and clean yourself while Ushijima in the kitchen for some water.

You come back with him already finished putting back his boxer. You realize you don’t wanna sleep in soiled panties so you grab a fresh pair and throw the used one out into the hamper. You jump back on the bed with him. You take the glass of water he gave you before laying back down. He spoons you like how he did before. You shuffle as you turn your body towards him, brushing away his messy hair out of his face.

“Should I wear this more so I can get fucked like that more often?” you ask, referring to how his high school sweater on you turns him on. He let out a tired laugh, “just don’t wear that in front of anyone but me.”

---

ushy gushy always be on my top #1 daddy big balls alongside erwin smith

#neruites #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima smut #ushijima fic #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fic

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luveline · 9 months

Note

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend.

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here.

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?"

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?"

He looks the same.

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear.

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend."

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands.

"That's for you," you say.

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch.

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon."

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh.

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed."

"You think I've changed?" he asks.

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking."

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom.

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks.

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?"

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?"

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you.

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered."

"I remember everything."

"Right. Your photographic memory."

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep."

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes.

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself."

You stare at his book.

"How many letters did you send?" he asks.

"I don't really remember."

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?"

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life.

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask.

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me."

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer."

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand.

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference."

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles.

You glare at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous."

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is.

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited.

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets."

"Deal."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #sorry I missed the mark a bit with the crazy tension this is not super tense <\3

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sweetercalypso · 1 year

Note

Please can you write about being catcalled when you’re with Joel? Like what do you think he would do?

wc: 0.7k cw: threats/slight violence, suggestive comments

Life in Jackson is quiet.

It’s reminiscent of a time that not many remember. Fit with a heavy artillery of patrolmen and a clinic and a working bar, Jackson made it easy to pretend that danger was no longer a concern.

Some of the men in the community weren’t so well-adjusted to easy living, and learned to find the familiarity of violence wherever they possibly could.

Walking back from Tommy’s house one evening, you’re reminded of how pervasive the threat of humanity can be.

Joel leads you home after dinner with his family. Ellie had stayed behind at Maria and Tommy’s with promises of hot chocolate and a new book that Tommy had procured on patrol the week before. You’re wrapped around Joel’s arm, giggling at whatever nonsense story he was murmuring into the quiet air when a sharp whistle kills the hazy warmth of the night.

Standing alone in the pale-yellow light of a streetlamp, one of the men from a group of newcomers stares darkly at you and Joel as the two of you pass by. His eyes had been stalking you from the time you turned the corner, like he was waiting for the perfect time to make his move.

“Lookin’ good, baby. I’d love to get a piece of that ass.”

Joel stops dead in his tracks like he’d been scorned by the man’s words. It was obvious the stranger was looking to pick a fight, and Joel was not the type to let a remark like that go.

“The fuck did he just say-”

“Ignore ‘em, Joel. He’s just trying to rile you up.”

Your grip on Joel’s sleeve tightens to give the man a chance to reconsider. Maybe he didn’t mean to offend you and he’d apologize. Maybe he’d realize who Joel was and he’d run away. Maybe –

“Let me know when the old man croaks, sweetheart. I’ll show you how a real man takes care of a pretty thing like you.”

Joel whips around abruptly with rage in his eyes and tears his arm out of your grasp before you even realize what’s happening.

He pounces on the man and grabs him by the collar, pushing him backwards until he smacks into the wall of the building behind him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel snarls.

He slams his hand against the faded brick, barely missing the side of the man’s face with his palm. Too stunned by the scene playing out in front of you, you’re frozen where you stand in the middle of the street.

Realizing that he had made a mistake, the man puts his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to speak when Joel cuts him off.

“If I hear another word out of your mouth, I’ll knock your head clean off your shoulders. You got that?”

He nods frantically, clearly aware that he’s not in the position to argue.

“Don’t ever talk about my girl like that again – or any woman here, for that matter. This ain’t the kinda place where people let that slide.”

Barely an inch separates the two men as Joel barks abuse at the creep until he’s red in the face. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him this upset.

“You so much as look at her again and you’re dead. D’you hear me?”

The man shakes his head in acknowledgement, too stunned to respond.

Joel yanks him forward and away from the wall, almost throwing him to the ground from the rough force he uses. He holds the man at arm’s length, speaking loudly enough for you to hear him where you stand a couple paces away. “Good. Now tell her you’re sorry.”

The man meets your gaze over Joel’s jacket clad shoulder, stammering through his dazed apology. “M’sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

Joel releases him with a rough shove and backs away nodding. “You’re damn right.”

He walks backwards until he’s beside you again, your hand slinking under his outer layer to rest securely over his chest.

“My hero,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the two of you continue your journey back home.

Watching over his shoulder as the the stranger staggers into the night, Joel mutters under his breath,

“I’d rather deal with the damn clickers.��

#lovely anons #calypso writes #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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prythianpages · 3 months

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You're Good To Me | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris realizes two things. One, he's in love with you, his brother's betrothed. Two, he's put you in danger.

warnings: angst, mentions of killing, but there is some fluff in the middle!

a/n: This one is inspired by Hozier's Would That I. Eris is so Hozier coded and when I heard this song, I couldn't help myself but write this. You can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. I rewrote the last scenes to this so many times within the past couple of hours but I think I'm finally content with this.

The late morning sun casts long shadows through the towering trees of the Autumn Court's sprawling estate, dappling over Eris with golden hues. Resting against a centuries-old oak, he reads a book–your book–while his hounds run about freely. Occasionally, they bring him a random stick that he happily throws.

She was soft as an angel but oh, she could love with the fury of a demon–

Clover, his youngest hound, barks, pulling his attention from the book. It’s one that has an adorable chirp to it. His fingers still on the page he was about to turn. Recently, there’s been only one other person–besides him, of course– who can elicit such a sound.

With a roar of a fire, Eris’s heart rises to its feet, mirroring Clover’s excitement. He can feel you too. You’re close. The book he was reading lays forgotten in his lap as he listens for the telltale sound of hoofbeats drawing near.

You had gone for a morning ride with his mother as you’ve done nearly every morning for the past week. How convenient for Eris to be reading near the stables around the time you’d return.

He was strategically positioned not to be in your direct line of sight but for you to come into his.

You’re laughing at something his mother said and the small smile that tugs at his lips is almost inevitable. He lifts his gaze, admiring the carefree expression on your face and the way the sunlight catches your hair. Clover lets out a small wine, tail wagging in anticipation as she watches you. She looks back at Eris, as if asking if she could run to you, and though Eris isn’t one to deny his hounds, he shakes his head at her. He wants to bask in your presence from afar awhile longer.

He can tell your lips are moving but from where he sits, he can’t discern your words. The soft pat you give your horse, Maximus, and the responding loud neigh is enough to clue him in. Maximus stands proud, his long white mane blowing in the gentle morning breeze as you dismount him with the help of one of the stablemen. You traded your pretty dresses for something more fitting for your morning ride. His gaze lingers on the way your pants cling to your curves longer than it should.

A low growl from Clover has him abruptly tearing his gaze away from your body. He watches as you run toward an older male. Your smile is so bright it competes with the sun as you throw your arms around your father. There’s something unsettling about the way your father looks at you. Something that makes your father undeserving of your smile.

While you look up at him in admiration, he looks at you as if you are his most prized possession. An object. He can tell his mother senses it too by the forced smile on her face as she politely greets him.

In the blink of an eye, Clover is darting toward you with an urgency that startles Eris. The rest of his hounds pause, their muscles tensing as they watch the scene unfold. Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise. Clover bounds towards you, her tongue eagerly reaching out to shower you with affection.

“Do they just let vile creatures roam around freely here?” He hears your father loudly ask with a scowl on his face.

“Her name is Clover,” you are quick to correct, turning toward your father again.

Clover turns with you and suddenly, she’s growling and snapping at him. With a yelp, your father falls to the ground on his butt while Clover lowers her head with another growl in warning. Eris rises to his feet and brings his finger to his lips, letting out a sharp whistle.

Just as quickly as Clover had escaped his side, she obediently makes her way back to him. Your gaze follows after her, and it's then that you spot Eris. There's a softness in your gaze as it lands on him. Despite the tension between Clover and your father, you seem unfazed. Your focus solely on Eris as the stablemen rush to help your father, who is groaning out profanities while his mother apologizes on Eris’s behalf.

Eris holds your gaze, patting Clover’s head in a reassuring manner. He’s not sorry about the whole ordeal. His hounds are trained to appear menacing and fearsome but they never attack without reason. Now, he’s inclined to investigate further, realizing he does not know enough about your father.

“Come along,” your father says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and forcing your attention back to him. He looks down at your outfit and a frown appears on his face. “You’re a Lady now, y/n. You need to dress like it.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears you apologize, unsettling him further. He watches as your body is enveloped by a golden glow and when he blinks, your riding outfit is replaced by a soft pink gown.

As your father rushes you back toward the forest house, you can’t help but glance back. There’s the slightest curve to Eris’s lips at that. He waves your book in a teasing manner, reveling in the immediate response he receives. You quickly turn back around and even from his distance, he can appreciate the blush that warms your cheeks. He feels a similar warmth swell in his chest, leaving him already anticipating seeing you again at dinner.

Eris hesitantly turns the final page of the book, as if reluctant to part ways. He had needed something to preoccupy himself with until dinner and with his father thankfully busy entertaining yours, he decided to immerse himself further into the book you held dear. He knew it was one you treasured by the worn-out cover and the pages threatening to detach from the spine. He’s almost distraught at the creases that line the top edges of random pages but is willing to forgive you for it.

His gaze settles on the last words, a bittersweet ache tugging at his heartstrings.

"You are the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could say no,” he breathes, holding her close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she croaks out as she looks up at him, blood seeping from her mouth. “I love you too.”

And as she drew her last breath, he felt his world end with it.

He stares at the words, reading them over and over again. Finally, he closes the book, but the words linger, echoing within him like a haunting melody. They stir emotions in him he’s never felt towards the ending of a book before. He feels lost. Angry. Disbelief. What kind of ending was this? If this book wasn’t yours, he would’ve flung it across his room.

He lets out a deep exhale, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. When he opens them, he looks at the clock hanging across the wall from him. Two hours until dinner still looms ahead. He wants to find you, to tell you his thoughts like you told him to but it’s too risky at this moment.

Rising from his seat, he gingerly sets your cherished book down on the small table beside him. He grabs his coat, deciding fresh air will do him well. Perhaps, even a walk through the village. There is a shop he’d like to visit. Anything to quiet his thoughts and the clamor of his racing heart. The characters from the book struck a chord too familiar with him.

“Hold my hand.”

“No.”

Eris pauses at the voices, eyes immediately finding the owners. There's a notable gap between you and Sawyer, tension crackling in the air as you exchange heated glances. For a moment, Eris wonders if there’s fire coursing through your veins too.

“Listen,” you start. “I don’t want to hold your hand but I want my father to believe I’m happy.”

Sawyer lets out a chuckle. “Your father doesn’t care.”

The look of hurt that flashes in your eyes is enough to have Eris’s blood boiling. “Can’t you at least do this one thing for me?” You plead, clasping your hands in front of him.

“Nope,” Sawyer repeats, accentuating the “p” sound, evidently relishing in the opportunity to further irk you.

“Gods, you’re such an–an…”

Sawyer raises a challenging eyebrow, his gaze locking onto you as your voice wavers, the resolve slipping away. "Say it," he whispers sharply, and Eris's muscles tense instinctively, not liking his brother's tone. Maybe, he should intervene…and teach Sawyer another lesson.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eris almost chokes on his own spit. He fights back the urge to laugh. Not at you, but at the sheer surprise written all over Sawyer's face. Sawyer clearly hadn't expected such boldness from you, and if Eris were to be honest, he is surprised too. Pleasantly surprised.

“Only for you,” Sawyer hisses back, surprise morphing into offense.

“I won’t even breathe in your direction for the next week.”

“And?”

You look at him incredulously. “And?”

Sawyer doesn’t respond. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, letting you know he expects more from you. Your response is a frustrated huff, a sound that would have typically elicited an amused smile from Eris. But not at this moment.

“Fine. I’ll cover for you for all the days leading up to our wedding. Do whom and what as you please. But–” you pause, holding a finger out to him. “–you have to say something nice to me in front of my father too.”

Sawyer’s lips curve into a pleased smirk. “That’s more like it, poo bear,” he purrs, bringing his hand up to pinch at your cheek a little too rough for Eris’s liking.

His fists clench at his sides, watching with envy as Sawyer slowly offers you his arm. Though it’s what you asked for, you eye it with caution. As soon as your hand is lifting to take Sawyer’s arm, Eris finally decides to make his presence known. He walks forward and toward the still notable gap between you and his younger brother. His shoulder purposely bumps into Sawyer’s, a mask of indifference on his face as he does so.

On the other side, his fingers graze against yours. A gesture so subtle it appears to be accidental. There’s no nuance in your expression but your fingers respond, gently lingering over his own. A tug on that golden thread in his chest has his steps wanting to falter. He does not give in, pushing forward instead.

Eris walks into the dining room and settles into his seat beside his mother, nodding a greeting to both his father and yours. They’re already immersed in what sounds like a pointless conversation over Prythian’s economy. Knowing that you and Sawyer will be following shortly, hand in hand, he yanks the bottle of wine from Oliver’s grasp. The heated glare he receives is instant but he couldn’t care any less as he fills his glass to the brim, wishing it was something stronger.

“There’s my blooming flower,” he hears your father happily greet as you grace them with your presence.

“The prettiest flower,” Sawyer remarks in a tone as smooth and soft as velvet. His younger brothers snicker, clearly amused with the drastic change in Sawyer’s attitude toward you.

Eris, however, does not find it amusing.

The grip on his glass tightens so harshly that his mother spares him a glance. She gives him a discreet kick under the table, silently urging him to relax. While his grip on his wine glass loosens, the tension in his jaw doesn’t. He remains quiet during dinner, chiming in only enough to not raise suspicion. He doesn’t dare to sneak a glance at you. Nor at Sawyer. Not even to glare daggers at him for every sweet word he speaks your way.

He knows it’s all an act but the thought does nothing to soothe him. Not when he heard you begging Sawyer to act like he likes you, to hold your hand, to say sweet nothings to you. To do all the things Eris is desperately yearning to do.

The Cauldron was cruel.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well here,” your father says as you walk arm in arm. “A flower like you needs the right soil to flourish.”

After dinner, the two of you had taken a stroll through the gardens, catching up with one another. He told you all about his recent business adventures, gloating over how the deals coming his way were endless as the word of your family name mixed with the Vanserras spread throughout Prythian. It was when the autumn winds began to pick up and grew too cold for your liking that you made your way back in the forest house and toward your room.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” You ask, a frown settling over your brows. Please stay, you want to add.

“I’m afraid so. I have a meeting with a potential business partner in Hewn City so I’ll have to leave early tomorrow to prepare,” your father replies in an apologetic tone. “I’ll try to make it in time for your next dress fitting.”

“Okay,” you respond, forcing another smile to your face. You hope your father can’t see right through it. “I’ll wake up early tomorrow to bid you farewell.”

“Lovely,” Your father says, the two of you coming to a stop near your door, where an Autumn guard is stationed right in front. With a nod of his head, the guard steps aside, allowing you access to your room. “Sleep well, okay?”

You lean your back against the door in contemplation. There’s so much you want to say. You want to tell him the truth. To ask him to call off the wedding. To have him take you with him, even if its to Hewn City.

Perhaps, if it were your mother standing before you, you would’ve confessed it all. She was always willing to listen. Your father…not so much. Given the way he was already bragging about the benefits from your arranged marriage, you worried it’d only be a waste of your breath. You also feared burdening him further, knowing he already had a lot on his plate.

You worry your father senses your inner turmoil when he reaches out a hand, lifting your chin. He smiles at you, his eyes seemingly capturing every detail of your presence. Almost like he’s etching it into his memory forever. “You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more in a daughter. Your mother would be proud too.”

There’s a pang in your chest and your smile falters. Something tells you, you wouldn’t be marrying Sawyer if she were alive. Unlike your father, she would see right through you and find a way out for you. But you can’t blame your father, either. Your mother’s last wish was to see you married and happy. Your father only wishes to honor it.

So instead of voicing your worries, you nod. “Goodnight, father.”

When you enter your room, you swear your heart skips a beat. Eris stands tall by your window, his red hair glowing like strands of molten copper under the pale moonlight. His gaze is fixed on the rustle of the leaves from the cool breeze, the shadows dancing across his delicate features. He looks ethereal just standing there.

“Your view is better than mine.”

You’re quick to shut the door behind you. “Lord Eris.”

Eris lets out a snort at your formality. He turns to face you with a small smile. “Just Eris,” he reminds softly as you approach him.

“Sorry, it’s a habit now,” you reply in a sheepish manner. You walk further into your room, joining him at his side. “What are you doing here? You didn’t leave a note this time.”

“I finally finished it.” Eris says as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands. Your book.

“You did?” Your eyes widen as you take it back from him.

The spine is gently bowed from decades of being held dear but you notice that the pages that were teetering away from the spine have been carefully attached back. What catches your eyes most, however, is the golden thread dangling from the midst of the pages. Your fingers toy with the autumn leaf charms that hang from it. Opening the book, you realize the string is attached to a bookmark. It’s placed exactly where you had last creased the page you had been on.

“I can’t believe you dog ear your pages, angel.”

Eris’s nose crinkles in disgust yet there’s an amused gleam in his eyes that has a laugh bubbling in your chest. “You say it like it’s a crime.”

“Because it is,” he insists with an incredulous furrow of his brow.

“Did you like it?”

“Like?” He laughs and you feel a flutter of uncertainty course through you. “I loved it,” he admits, soothing the flutter but then adds: “But I hated the ending.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, his tone mirroring the playful glint dancing in his eyes.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you remind yourself to breathe properly. “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer tentatively, your heart racing with anticipation.

Eris grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sitting on the window seat, he adjusts his body so that his back leans against the window. He carefully angles his legs, giving you space to sit too. You settle across from, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Start from the beginning.”

And so Eris does, pouring out his every thought.

He tells you how he enjoyed the author’s world building of the human world, though he knows in reality, it’s actually very boring. You attempt to defend the mortals but Eris dismisses it, claiming he knows their world is dull based on a human he knows. He then tells you how the slow burn romance between the two protagonists nearly drove him insane. That he’d never been more happy to read about two characters holding hands.

“And don’t even get me started on the intimate scenes between those two. It went on in extravagant details for pages and pages,” he says with an amused exhalation. “How something so vulgar can be written so beautifully is beyond me!”

You can’t help but laugh at that, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. Eris continues with his passionate rant and you drink every single word. At some points, he pauses, asking for your interpretations of certain scenes, bringing forth small arguments and laughter.

"I just can't get over that ending," Eris remarks with a sigh, his brow furrowing in frustration. "It's just so... sad. Disappointing, almost. After all that trouble the hero went to save her only for her to still die at the end...”

"But isn't there a certain beauty in tragedy?" you counter softly. "The way it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. The angst. Because as you read, you slowly begin to realize that it was not her who needed saving but him.”

Eris tilts his head, contemplating your words for a moment. Of course, you would see the beauty in the ending. His lips curve into a pout. He needs to protect you at all costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, spirit crushed by the cruel confinements of this court and forced to wear a mask at all times.

"I suppose I just prefer stories with happy endings. Life's already filled with enough sadness, isn't it?"

“It is,” you murmur, gaze softening with empathy. Then, your eyes are lighting up as a thought crosses your mind and you’re smiling at him. “Who would’ve thought Eris Vanserra, the heir to the Autumn Court, is a hopeless romantic with a soft spot for happy endings.”

The smile that breaks out brightens his entire expression and he lets out a chuckle, sending a warm flutter through your chest. He leans in closer, his amber eyes alight with an intensity that mirrors the flickering flames of the hearth in your room.

“And who would’ve thought a saint like you has the mind of a sinner.”

“Hey!” You gasp and give a playful kick to his thigh.

Eris laughs, body relaxing as he slumps against the window for support. He’s lost count of the amount of times you two have laughed tonight but he knows it’s more than he ever has before. When you shift to give another kick, his hand grasps at your ankles. He raises a brow at you in challenge, almost daring you to try again.

“You said and I quote ‘something so vulgar can be written so beautifully,’ meaning that you enjoyed them too.”

“I did,” Eris agrees, lips curling into a smirk as he lifts his gaze. His fingers mindlessly dance across your exposed leg, sending a delightful shiver through you. “But I am no saint.”

It’s when he feels your leg twitch that he realizes what he’d been doing. He stands abruptly and lowers his head. He fears he’s getting too comfortable around you. “I sh–”

Standing from the window seat, your hand grasps for his, stopping him. “Since you read one of my favorites, it’s only fair that I read one of yours.”

Eris's eyes widen in surprise and he turns back to look at you. No one has ever asked him about his favorite book. He read yours because he wanted to, curious to learn more about you through it. He didn’t expect you to return the gesture.

"Deal.”

The word escapes him with such ease it scares him but it’s short lived as he’s overcome with excitement. His passion for reading had always been a solitary pursuit. It was something he never really shared with others, but he wants to with you.

“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you respond happily.

“But,” he begins, not allowing you to let go of his hand, his thumb brushes against the back of it. “You’re not allowed to dog ear my pages.”

“I’ll also need a book in return. It’s only fair,” he adds, mimicking your tone from earlier. His mind then drifts to thoughts of the both of you, curled up against one another with a book in your laps. Or maybe, you’d read to him while he holds you close, his head resting atop your shoulder and–

“Of course,” you reply, pulling him from his fantasies and toward the other side of your room, where many books were neatly lined atop a shelf. “I couldn’t bring all my books but I brought all my absolute favorites!"

Eris watches as you hum in contemplation. His attention is drawn to the way you tap a finger against your lips. He remembers the way they felt against his cheek. Lovely and sweet. Like your heart. He’s dying to know what they’d feel like against his lips…

He knows you’ve finally decided on a book when your other hand frees itself from his hold to reach out for it. You carefully slide it off the shelf and then turn around, presenting it to him. “You’ll love this one,” you tell him and you’re so confident it has his lips twitching upwards for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “It has a happy ending."

"I think I...," his voice wavers with a delicate tremor. He looks away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush over the words he couldn't bring himself to articulate. "You're good to me," he murmurs instead, taking the book from you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your words coax his gaze back to yours and the sincerity he finds in your eyes is one that’s never been directed at him before. It stirs a desire in him that he never even knew he was searching for.

The fire in his veins burns brighter. The bond in his chest sings louder. He allows it to pull him closer to you. You're also leaning in until the book in his hand is the only barrier between your bodies.

There's nothing else to interrupt this moment between you both. No bells chiming like that day in the fountains. No cloak to trip over or lanterns like that night he snuck you out. It's just you two, in the stillness of the night, where the only sounds are your breaths and the crackle of the hearth nearby.

His movements are slow, giving you the chance to pull away at any moment. You don't. He watches your every shift in expression as his free hand tilts your chin up towards him. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

And then he's kissing you.

Softly and delicately like a butterfly's wings. Your lips are warm and perfect against his, your taste sweet and intoxicating. Even better than he could ever imagine.

Your hands travel up his neck and thread themselves through his hair, pressing his lips harsher against yours. Heat courses through him as you kiss him back. You're like a wildfire, burning away all memories of past lovers and leaving only the embers of your essence to light his way.

When he pulls away, a shared breathlessness lingers between you. As he looks into your eyes, it's like the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything is different. He longs for the night he'll be able to hold you tight and let the blinding light you bring consume him fully.

For now, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing you in and taking in the soft smile on your face that mirrors his own.

But the very next morning, he's harshly reminded that though he's had a taste, your radiance remains beyond his grasp. He fears it will forever, like a forbidden flame that flickers just out of reach.

"Who does he think he is, making demands of me?" Beron seethes, his voice laced with frustration, as he paces back and forth in his study. “I’ve graciously taken in his daughter. I’ve even granted him half of his money upfront. And yet where is my promise?”

Eris, standing nearby, observes with cautious eyes, gauging the storm brewing within his father. He knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up from a nightmare. A nightmare whose cruel grip he still cannot shake off…because for the first time, you were in it.

He prays his father can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart as he says, “Cancel the deal. Call off the wedding with Sawyer...”

And wed her to me, he wishes to add but the words stick in his throat. The painful truth lingers deep in his chest, nestled next to the strings of fate that bind him to you. It’s best if you leave this court and go somewhere far.

Far away where happiness might embrace you. Far away from the cruel clutches of his father’s power and even your own. Far away where you may free him of this torment…but the more time he spends with you, the more precarious the thread his honor hangs on becomes.

He fears that nowhere would be far enough now.

“Call off the wedding?” Beron laughs in an incredulous manner. The gold and crimson tapestries adorning the walls seem to shiver in response to his father’s simmering frustration. When Beron abruptly turns to face Eris, the younger male can’t help but flinch. “When you were the one who suggested this arrangement to begin with.”

Eris’s throat tightens. He had been the one to suggest this arranged marriage.

Your father, a respected merchant, extended an offer to Beron – an offer that, even now, Eris grapples to comprehend fully. It was a proposal that was lured with promises of enhanced power for the High Lord of Autumn in exchange for wealth and elevated status through matrimonial ties.

With no available Vanserra daughters to marry your father to and Sawyer's nightly endeavors tarnishing the family name, it led Eris to suggest an arranged marriage between you and Sawyer. A futile attempt to protect his younger brother from a fate similar to Lucien’s…but at what cost?

The Cauldron must be bubbling with amusement at the irony of it all. For, unknowingly, Eris orchestrated the union between you, his mate, and his brother. This is all his doing. All his fault.

Eris wills himself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “What’s so important about this exchange anyway?” He asks with a measured voice.

“Jareth has access to something precious,” Beron responds, his words chosen with deliberate care. "Something that may hold the key to immortality."

Eris's eyebrows furrow in contemplation, his mind racing to grasp at what special thing your father could be harboring. "What if he is bluffing?"

Beron's eyes darken, sending a shiver down Eris's spine. His heart sinks to his stomach as he can already anticipate what his father is going to say.

“I’ll kill his precious daughter. Then, I’ll kill him.”

If your father keeps his end of the bargain, you’ll marry Sawyer. Doomed to a life of misery, where danger lurks at every corner. If your father doesn’t keep his end of the bargain, you’ll be the one to face the consequences of his father's wrath.

And you're in this situation because of him. The bond in his chest tightens, the golden strings pulling taut with a piercing resonance. No, no, no. Panic seeps in with an agonizing intensity. The mere thought of any harm coming to you, especially because of his actions, sickens him to his stomach.

He can’t allow that to happen. He won't allow it to happen.

“That won’t be necessary,” Eris says, carrying the weight of centuries of practiced composure. “I’ll ensure Jareth keeps his end of the bargain.”

“As expected,” Beron replies in a pleased tone. “I’m counting on you.”

Eris manages a nod, silently excusing himself. He’s never been more desperate to leave his father’s study. He feels his hands begin to shake and he shoves them into his pockets, not wanting to allow anyone a glimpse of the turmoil raging inside.

It's only when he's in the comfort of his room that he allows his facade to crumble. Leaning heavily against the door, he slowly sinks to the floor. His hounds are immediately rushing to his side, noses brushing softly against his arms.

"I made a terrible mistake," he tells them quietly and a low whine comes from one of them in protest. Then, with a strong determination, he says, "but I'm going to fix it."

"I swear it," he promises, rising to his feet, his hounds following after him as he makes his way further into his room.

You're not going to marry Sawyer and you're not going to be the one to pay the consequences of your father's actions, should he betray them. No. Eris will make sure of that. He's running out of time but he's going to find a way to get you out of this mess. He knows he can.

Eris realizes then he'd do anything to keep you safe, even if it means losing everything. Because if there's one thing he can't lose, it's you.

a/n: and here comes the angst train. I hope you enjoyed Eris and reader talking about her favorite book as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡

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