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#damn these dragons looking cold but are hot

o-pandora-o · 8 months

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4 Horsemen Dragons of the Apocalypse

Making Humanity insane with how pretty and handsome these dragons are, as well as how powerful they can be and able to manipulate weather *cough* Neuvi and Mal

Note: Glad y'all like the previous post I made with how similar Malleus and Neuvi was. As per requested by many, I have included Zhongli and Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae, thanks once again!

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xiaowhore · 8 months

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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

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arcielee · 1 year

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Taste of It

Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a delightful sex dream. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Word Count: 2406 Warnings: Smutty smut, fingering, choking, language, p in v. Author's Note: Hey, this is my first Reader fanfic I have ever written. I am open to all criticism, because it will help me be a better writer and is definitely not a degradation kink. This was inspired by the story you can pretend it's not meant to be (but you can't stay away from me) by @themotherofhorses. I just loved the idea of a lucid dream with Aemond Targaryen. ♥ Thank you @f4ll-for-you for being so kind to read this over! Series: Call It Dreaming

“What are you doing here?”

His voice is low, lethal, and somehow familiar to you, despite the unfamiliar setting you find yourself in. Your hands wash over your body, feeling your favorite oversized shirt, an old David Bowie print that was comfortable with age and just long enough to cover your ass, with the hem touching the peaks of your bare thighs. There is a coldness to your surroundings, which was all the more apparent on your bare feet and the skimpy, cotton underwear you wore beneath your nightshirt.

You remembered being cozy on your couch after a long, hot shower that peeled away the stress accumulated from both work and schoolwork, partnered with a mask to exfoliate your pores. You remembered the scent of your new lotion, a mixture of vanilla and brown sugar, while you admired the reflection of the black underwear and matching bralette on your figure before you decided to put on the oversized vintage top before you crawled beneath your blanket to rewatch House of the Dragon.

“I asked you a question,” his voice repeated, his tone sharp. You could hear the sound of a book snapping shut that caused you to jump and turn on your heel. Your eyes flit over your new surroundings; you were in a room with tapers lit that added to the warm, amber glow emitting from the hearth and its embers, highlighting the meticulous placement of furniture and its grim vibe.

You nearly choke on your heart when your eyes finally find who the voice, the one that was both low and lethal, belongs to.

Aemond Targaryen was seated in a leather chair by the fireplace, one hand holding a closed book by its spine and his brows knitted above his gaze, one lavender eye and one sapphire eye, focused on you with a look of sheer annoyance.

You could scarcely react when he pushed himself from his seat, his long legs allowing long strides to cover the distance of the room, and you could feel the heat from his body as he pinned your back against the door. His large palm was on your neck and he slowly squeezed the sides.

You can still breathe, but your vision begins to fog and he pushes closer, his nose pressed against the side of your head with the hot whisper repeating his question, “Who are you?”

This is a dream, your mind rationalizes. A sexy dream you guess from the heat that pools in your lower abdomen and melds with the heat that exudes from the prince. His scent is intoxicating; he smelled clean, mixed with a woodsy musk and the hint of smoke. It was a dream, you decide, and gods be damned if you would not utilize this subconscious interaction.

“I have been sent for your pleasure,” you finally manage to say, your mind spinning from the lack of blood.

Your words release his grasp, but his hand remains rested on your collarbones. “Another one of my brother’s whores?” He asks with the curl of his lips. Perhaps he tried to sound annoyed, but you hoped instead for him to be intrigued since your modern garb was hardly the fashion of the Streets of Silk. “You may show me what you have to offer and I will make my decision.”

This is promising, you smile at him. Aemond takes a step back but you note he remains within arm’s reach, thinking you may try to flee but he is completely unaware you have no intention to leave this room. With slow breaths as your vision clears, your fingers reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it overhead, dropping it at your feet to show him your black cotton bralette and matching cheeky underwear.

You watch his eye roll over you, pupil dilated, from your head to your polished toes and back again. You hold your breath and only relax when you hear his hum of satisfaction.

Aemond moved to grab you, perhaps he meant to drag you, but you are quick and willing to follow his direction towards the bed, gleeful when you feel his large hands rest on your hips and bring you around to push you back against the mattress.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him bending at his slender waist, his arms caging you and the curtain of silver hair spilling on both sides. His head tilts slightly to peer at you and you stare back with blatant admiration of the sharp angles of his jawline, the gleam of his sapphire eye that you did not notice the dagger he held until the glint of the blade caught your attention.

Your breath holds as he presses the dagger flat beneath the front of your bralette and it hitches in your throat with his fluid motion to twist the blade and bring it upwards, tearing the fabric.

“Hey!” You gasp, pressing up to your elbows to face him as he falls back a step, holding the torn fabric in one hand and sheathing his blade, all while admiring the natural slope of your breasts. You feel a slight burn and look down to see a red line and beads of blood forming from the sliver.

“I only wished to see if you were real,” his words were not an apology, but more an explanation.

You push to sit upright, your hand grabbing his own to bring his palm to your breast. “I assure, I am very real,” your eyes are glassy with your bold words and actions, but it works and he moves to press on top of you. You fall back and mold against the mattress, his tongue burns as it trails the cut and there is the smear of blood as his mouth moves to find your nipple.

Your back arches in response from the touch of his tongue that flits over the peak of your nipple and rolling circles around your areola. His hot mouth closes, suckling and his teeth nipping the soft flesh of your breast before he moves to give equal attention towards the other.

A soft moan spills from your lips and he moves to capture your mouth with his own. His tongue presses to explore your mouth and you welcome the softness of his lips and the copper taste of your own blood. Your hands move to comb your fingers through his silk locks, your nails scratching his scalp and you feel the vibration of his hum of approval.

Aemond presses closer and you can feel his hardness, his hips rolling to rub against your cloth cunt. He grabs onto your hip with one hand, large and warm to the touch, and his other moves flat against your chest; his tongue slows with languid movements, relishing your taste before he breaks away.

“You taste like a sweet wine, but with chocolate and mint?” His brow quirks with his question.

Ben and Jerry’s, you think to yourself but he does not need an answer, instead bringing his lips to bruise against your own and his fingers trailing lower to cup your cunt. He seems pleased with how you are drenched with your anticipation, pressing his lips against your throat with the growl of, “Sīr lōz syt aōha dārilaros.”

So wet for your prince.

You burn with how his tongue rolls the words. Gods be praised, you think when you recognize the words that made your core ache, your annoyance for the Duolingo notifications vanish and you respond with a breathless, “Kirimvose, ñuha dārilaros.”

His brow raises in response and his look makes your heat roll over your body. “You also know High Valyrian,” he says and, again, it was more a statement than a question.

“Mērī mirrī,” Only a little, you admit to him, the heat flushing your face from his brazen stare. You chew your bottom lip as you bring your feet to the edge of the bed and lift your hips, peeling off your underwear.

You note the curl of his lips and he moves to mold against you again, his teeth grazing the pulse of your pounding heart. His touch is gentle, his fingers just grazing your hip bone and moving towards your center, his slender finger trailing your soaked slit before it curled inside of you.

You cannot help but mewl his name as he adds another, moving to massage your walls, his palm cupping you and allowing his thumb to stimulate your clit. The warmth in your lower core begins to boil with his ministrations and your breathing grows erratic, which quickens his motion.

“Jurnegon nyke,” he commands, Look at me, and you bring your eyes forward to see him leaning over and bracing himself above you with his free arm. “I want to hear you,” he breathes.

His breath, his words partnered with the sinful curl of his fingers within you allows your orgasm to crash into you, drawing the air from your lungs with your pitiful cries of release. Your skin is aflame and you had not noticed he pulled away until you heard him cleaning his fingers with his mouth, standing over you, the bulge of his breeches unmistakable.

The sight of him cleaning his slender fingers emboldens you to grab his waistband and bring him against you, desperate to taste yourself on his soft lips. The grace of your tongue is not matched with your hands that fumble with the latches of his tunic, but you feel his smile as his hands guide your own. You peel his layers off to reveal his hard chest with faded scars of silver that decorated the rivets of his toned abdomen, the moonlight mixed with the low flames giving the prince an ethereal glow to his lithe body.

Aemond gives a hum to claim your attention, his lips curling as he is adamantly aware of the hunger in your eyes, and his hands reach to grasp the peaks of your thighs and pull you closer to the bed edge. You push yourself to your elbows and watch rapt as he unlaces to remove his trousers, curious to see if the Tumblr assertion of his genitalia was accurate, but his hand pushes you back against the bed and trails to your neck.

“Open,” he commands and your mouth relaxes, your tongue pink and drowning in saliva from seeing him almost bare.

He presses two fingers into your mouth and you close to suckle, tasting the remnants of your release and his own saliva from his clean up. You coat them and there is a string of spittle that follows when he pulls away, eventually breaking and wetting your chin.

His hands move to lube his cock and you feel the press against your cunt, the undeniable stretch as he pushes into you. Your hands grasp at the bedding on each side and your back arches as he pushes to split you in half. “You take me so well,” he soothes, but does not allow you time to adjust and presses further still.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck me,” you gasp at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

Aemond pauses for a moment, reaching to clasp your jaw and bring your eyes to look at him, “I intend to.”

You shudder when he bottoms out in you and his hands move to clasp onto your hips, pulling you to meet his each thrust, his hip bones digging into the underside softness of your thighs and his cock reaching into you further still. Your hands move to grab above you, twisting into the sheets, and you arch your back into each powerful thrust.

His pace pauses for a moment, his hands wrapping around your ankles and bringing your feet to rest onto his shoulders, canting your hips to angle you as he slips back into your warmth. Your heart flutters when his hands return to your hip bones, admiring his side profile and the scrunch of his brow. “Your toes… is that glitter?”

“Kostilus, ñuha dārilaros,” Please, my prince, you cannot help but whine. You are on the cusp of your second release and the fear of waking up looms over you. “I must have you.”

The High Valyrian renews his attention, as you hope it would, and he pushes to fold you in half, the new angle allowing him to slip into your cunt deeper than before. His arms hold himself on each side, caging you in, and his soft, silver tresses spill onto your bare chest with a tickle. You moan in abandon from the stretch of him reentering you as his hips rut against you.

It rolls in waves, gooseflesh rippling over every inch of your body and your nipples taut from the pleasure, clenching at his cock. The tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you repeat his name, “Aemond, Aemond-”

His thrusts become sloppy and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you; you open your legs to allow him to fall forward against you, a damp brow to your own. You steady your breath, savoring the mixture of his scent combined with the scent of sex, wanting to savor your unconscious a moment longer. Your sex dreams never ended so satisfactory before and you knew it would not be much longer. You bring your hand to his defined jawline to tilt his head up, bringing your lips to his with a slow, lingering kiss.

But you do not wake up, instead Aemond drags you beneath the covers and pulls you flush against his chest, which is hard and warm and molds perfectly with the softness of your backside in the most delicious way.

“You may leave me in the morning,” he murmurs in your ear as he nuzzles into the back of your neck and hair.

When you wake up, you are back on your couch and nestled beneath your blanket, the menu music of House of the Dragon playing on repeat from your television. Warmth envelopes you as you remember the vivid dream you had and you push to sit upright.

I will always fall asleep with you on, but your thoughts are cut short from the cold that touches your bare chest. Your hands wash over your body, naked, and you wince when your finger touches the gash in between your breasts.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

Where the fuck was your Bowie shirt.

#taste of it #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #thanks for reading #♥

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angelltheninth · 2 years

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Oh my god. That feral zhongli I can't– let's mix it up with his half adeptal form,,, the dragon and his fascination with how you bite and hold onto his long tail for life as he breeds you full of his eggs, his brood.

The words 'eggs' or 'brood'... for some reason it gives me flashbacks to the Xenomorph eggs and that fucking, it like scared me shitless as kid. Holy fuck lmao.

Pairing: Half-Adeptal!Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, biting, growling, first time meeting, dragon rut, possessive Zhongli, feral Zhongli

A/N: On a hotter note I really like how Zhongli looks in his half-Adeptal form. The horns and the claws really do it for me.

Entering the cave already felt off somehow, yet there was something beckoning you forward, inviting you in, calling to you

You knew that Rex Lapis was rumored to dwell within those caves

Honestly you were more curious than anything, to see the famous God of Contracts

The moment you entered the cave the air felt different

Instead of the cold, dim interior you expected it was warm, the inside illuminated by yellow and orange crystals

You kept going, not being able to shake the feeling that someone, or something was watching you

"What do we have here?" A gruff voice whispered hot in your ear, "A little human in my domain?" You felt something long and warm wrap around your waist from behind

You went completely still as rough, clawed hands started mapping your body, up and down, to your sides, your front, your breasts, one going all the way to your chin

"You visit me now? In my rut? You must be very brave, or perhaps stupid." His nose buries in the base of your neck, "You do not have a partner, I smell no one on you." He lets out a deep rumbling sound, so close to a growl that it makes your skin prickle

Upon you confirming that you are indeed here to visit the Rex Lapis and that no, you don't have anyone that you're involved with you feel his fingers grip your chin and turn your head slightly to the side

You're met with the most beautiful pair of golden eyes you've ever seen, like melted pools of gold, but shining with fire, with lust

"What a pretty face." He whispers before he claims your lips, giving you a hint of fangs as he does so

The more he kisses you the less in control of yourself you feel, your body getting hotter by the second, your legs shaking, mind going hazy with desire

A moan passes your lips when he kneads your breasts his and grinds his hips against yours, he's rock hard already and just from that one little push he's quite big as well

Not wanting to wait any longer he picks you up in his arms, quickly sprinting forward as he nips at your neck, hungry to taste you more

How you got there is a little blurry in your head but you do remember a blinding yellow light at some point before you feel soft pillows and smooth sheets beneath your back

"How about it little human? You're already here? Will you help me with my rut?" He's already halfway undressed, his muscular body almost shining with sweat, yet he waits for you to nod before he takes his clothes off completely

Heat rushes across your entire body as your eyes land on his big, throbbing cock, thick cum already coating the tip and sliding down in big drops

"I want to tear this off, it's lovely on you but, I'm afraid it's in my way." His tail swishes behind him as he crawls towards you, his teeth clenching, his irises barely there in thin lines, "Let me see all of you."

He sounds so damn needy, has there been no one he's spent ruts with this entire time

He shakes his head, "I haven't had a partner in decades. I feel very fortunate that a pretty woman such as yourself wandered into my domain."

Slowly he takes of your clothes, one article at a time until you're completely naked under him

His long tongue licks his lips a he grips your knees and spreads your legs, your cunt dripping juices onto his sheets, "Lovely." You moan as he rubs his hot lengths along your lips, brushing against your clit

It's slow at first, his cock sliding inside, parting your walls, stretching you out, "Divine. You feel divine around me darling." He breaths out a puff of warm steam as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours

There's a lot of him, there's so much, you feel like you're about to burst already, and he's not even moving

You moan, eyes searching for his

He smiles at you, "If you need a name to scream, you may use Zhongli." He smiles, showing you just a hint of teeth as his claws dig into the bed and he starts moving

The sheer force of it almost makes you launch off the bed, the only thing stopping you being Zhongli pressing his body against yours

His pace is relentless, which isn't odd given that he admitted to not having a partner in so long

You hear the sound of tearing fabric as his claws shred through the sheets

Your arms wrap around his shoulders pulling him closer and into another kiss, his hot almost too hot against yours, and even hotter is the feeling of his cum suddenly flooding your walls

"I'm gonna breed you, my pretty human. Do you understand?" Right now you don't feel like you understand much of anything, only the feeling of his cock and cum filling you up, and you want more, so you nod, "Good human. Good girl."

He pulls out quickly, a string of thick white cum connecting your pussy hole and his still erect dick

"You still haven't came, I cannot have that." His eyes narrow and in an instant you're turned on your stomach, his body pressing against yours, his fingers tangling with yours and pressing them into the matrass, "Hold still." He rubs his cock against your ass a few times before he plunges it back into your needy cunt, "It's taking me so easily. Perhaps this was fate, perhaps you were fated to find me here, to be taken by me, made love to, breed by me, to take my seed."

You feel him hammer his cock into you, his hips slapping against yours in a wild pace

"I have a lot to give you my sweet. Make sure you take all of it." His lips sink into your neck over and over, marking you up as he releases inside you again and again, seemingly prolonging his own mini-orgasms until he finally hears his name being screamed out from your lips like a chant

It's not enough for him, not yet

He starts again, this time his hands lifting your hips up, angling it so his cock sinks in easier, deeper, long strokes hitting you in just the right spot to keep your pussy fluttering around him, milking him more and more

His tail swishes back and forth, his latest release roared into the room, hot cum spilling out of you, coating your thighs and ass

You lose count of how many orgasms he gives you in the next few days, the sex seems like it one long dream

His tongue is inside you, licking you clean, fucking you, your legs around his shoulders, hands tugging on his hair

His fangs are marking your inner thighs, your wrists, your neck, your breasts, your ass

You're covered with cum, flooded inside and out, your cunt, your mouth, your back, your stomach, your breasts, your face

Your hands clench the torn sheets as Zhongli mounts you again, his cock sinking in so easily, "My pretty mate, are you tired already? Can't you take one more? I know you can, come on beautiful, take my cock, let me feel your sensitive cunt flutter around me as I pump you full of my seed all over again." Fuck, how can you refuse him when he's talking like that, when he's been the one worshiping you this whole time

What more than a mortal ask for than to be loved and worshiped and ravaged by a God

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #zhongli smut #zhongli x female reader

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thewriterg · 3 months

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.3

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; You’re shot and not healing, what could be worse? Everything

word count; 3.8k | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: First post of 2024 what the hell writers!? 🙈

The walk to the excile point was a surprisingly smooth one, even if it felt like you were walking through hells trenches. The grim reaper himself strides beside you even though your footsteps aren’t matching his. They’re a bit… delayed, the thought that makes you want to trip. Fortunately, it’s nothing too drastic to actually make you stumble. God you hated Americans, so trigger happy with not a lick of skill behind those damn fingers. How they contributed to win some of the largest wars ever recorded was beyond you. Continuing to let your unreliable footing carry you on your marry way, You and Ghost both lead your sergeants, while they in response lead your privates to your designated location.

Soap doesn’t even blink at the weight he had lugged on his back even though it was sure to bite him in the ass when he dialed back to his normal size. The small force of everyone is on guard until the very last moment where your all loading helis. Even then the Scott noted how the Wraith and Phoenix’s shoulders did not seem to drop, even though you were being confined into a temporary security until you could return to base. You, Gaz, Ghost, Price and Himself —along with two lower rank hybrids— load into one of the two aircraft’s waiting for you while the other privates have no choice but to load on the second.

You sit next to Gaz and Soap soon takes a seat next to you gleefully accepting the opportunity, a bit confused when Price seemingly turned his eyebrow up at the arrangement. His head slightly tilted when he noticed you don’t meet the captains gaze but the bucket hat wearing man doesn’t comment on it and neither does he. The ride from that point is smooth until about an hour in your pilot experiences turbulence, and suddenly Your head is spinning, your gums are itching as if you were a toddler teething. Everything is heightened, you can hear the blades of the heilo even through the density of you headphones, your eyes are sensitive to the faintest bit of the moonlight peaking through the windshield, and your body spiked in temperature, burning hot like hell. Your attempt to take a breath was useless when the potent scent of blood hits your nostrils. So sweet yet it felt like the peach fuzz in your nostrils burned and you groaned abruptly.

“You alright Lt? You dinnae look too we-”

“Which one of you is bleeding” You interrupt the Mohawk’ed sergeant with a hiss, placing a hand over your nose and curling over your knees. Heads snap to you like a mouse in a trap and Price is up out of his seat before anyone push the weight on their knees to stand. The brunette kneels in front of you, you’re not looking at him but he can see your eyes are dilated theirs faint veins trailing under your eyes that look like they want to spur from beneath your skin. You irises are layered with a foggy film and you look so far away it could’ve broken the captains heart, but he had to be your superior before he could be your comforter and he was sure you could handle it.

“Hey, Hey! What’s goin’ on? Look at me! What’s happe-?” It happened to quick to process, in the bat of an eye the Scott would say. One moment you’re looking distant and far away in your seat and the other you have one of your privates Tank against the cold steel wall of the heilo with that certain look in your eyes. You see it a few times in his line of work.

Bloodlust,

Fangs sprout from the roots of your gums, deep dark red veins swarm under your eyes, your pupils have taken over the whites of your eyes, and you are not yourself to say the least. In quick action Gaz squawks —even though it’s more like a screech— it put you down to your knees while you hands clutch your head mouth open in a small ‘o’ with a silent scream ghosting from your lips. It throws you off for a minute, but it’s not a minute long enough. You adjust quickly and with the same speed you pinned down the raven haired private you do the same to the rich skinned Sargent, a hand wrapped around his throat effectively stopping is antagonizing screeching. You bare your fangs at him with a hiss and he nods with a groan on his lips.

“I get it Lt, n-no more screeching… you g-got it”

Before you could do anymore damage your soon the one groaning when that scent takes over your senses again. When you turn to the source in your somewhat unconscious mind your realize it wasn’t your original subject, the scent was much more… potent

“This what you want? Come ‘ere, take what you want” Ghost’s gruff voice rings over your ears as he stands tall, combat knife in his right hand his opposite palm sliced open blood dripping like water from the tap. You didn’t quite lunge at the blonde but you weren’t gentle either. It was different… you were rigid as your fangs pierced his jugular taking exactly what you wanted with a hand wrapped around the front shoulder covering of his bullet proof vest. Soon however, you’re groaning into the surface of his skin ready to pull away when your frame was restrained against the wraiths keeping you in place. Your senses are be ridden into overdrive, grunting in protest against the lieutenant struggling inevitably. Shadows slither up your body effectively keeping you still and you’re weaker than ever —it concerns the Brit to no end— effectively out like a light, dead weight pressing against the front of Ghost’s torso. that he takes willingly. The chopper is finally quiet, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. The captain and —conscious— lieutenant are the first to move, the skull masked soldier sits with your unconscious body in his lap. He swings your legs over his knees and holds your shoulders and in his arm supporting the weight.

Price examines your flesh, nothing alarming to the eye until he gets to the ending of your collarbone and beginning of your shoulder blade. It was barely noticeable to the eye with your all black gear a hole is punctured through your shirt —the fabric saturated with blood— just where your bulletproof vest stops.

“Gaz. Bullet wound, collarbone to shoulder area, ammo unknown, no exit.” The brunette calls out to the sergeant and he notes it immediately, going up to the pilots cavity to grab first aid coming back a practical second later. He hands his captain; gauze, scissors, forceps, tape, and medical wrap. Not nearly enough to give you a beginning of a processable recovery but, it’s something to keep you stable and sterilized. Price takes the shears cutting a big enough square in the fabric of your shirt for him to see with the shitty helo lighting. With enough gauze to clear out a cotton field the bleeding is finally stopped. What stands out the most however is your veins, different shades of black and gray spreading from the wounds up your neck and down your arm. Price curses gruffly, Ghost grunts in disdain, while Gaz catches a gasp in his throat and holds it there. Without another word and with a steady hand the dragon goes in with the tweezers fishing about for the stray bullet wearily when you twitch, ignoring how his lieutenant tightens his hold around you. Soon enough without hitting a nerve he pulls out a bullet its black resembling the color spreading abnormally through your veins.

“Never seen anything like it Cap” The brown eyed sergeant murmurs analyzing the bullet while the older brunette begins to patch you up good enough to where you aren’t bleeding out.

“Somethin’ illegal i'm pretty sure, Americans and Russians in wits with one another? Can’t be arsed to think about it” Their captain is cold, no humor in his voice to spare. Soap perks up at it having been waved away throughout the whole process of it all, ‘safety percussion’ the harpy tried to mutter to him softly even though it came off as passive and off putting the Scott got the message. With a knee bouncing in uncertainty the Scott tries his best to see through the gap of two fit frames that are practically shoulder to shoulder, begging to see anything —straining his eyes in the process— but in the end he wished he didn’t.

“Is she still breathing!? Check ‘er pulse how many beats per minute?”

“Mactavi-” The lieutenant begins with a hiss

“Those types of bullets mark hybrids for death, big ones, powerful ones, like us… like her. Wolves, dragons, sirens, cockatrice, harpies, hellhounds, cyclops, every big shot in the books. I don’t know how the ‘ell her heart hasn’t stopped”

“125 beats per minute Cap, her heart isn’t slowing it’s… going into overdrive” Gaz’s brows furrow at the words slipping from his lips as if it wasn’t his own recognition, as if he were learning it for the first time. Price curses moving towards the captain's cavity taking a hold of the mic that connected to his coms that ranged to base, speaking hardened than the brunette ever heard

“This is Bravo six, I want nurses on scene upon my arrival landing time ASAP. I have a member down… if I don’t see medical you won’t see a day of rest, private.” His voice fades out into the front of the helo with thundering steps that demand attention. Gaz kept a pointer and middle finger on your pulse point still counting the beasts as minutes pass, Soap felt short of helpfully useless, and when Ghost finally speaks up his voice is directed and sharp. Looking forward the two lower ranked hybrids one is checking over the other and they both look at him with attentive eyes

“What the hell happened in that building”

💌💌💌💌

“-nd she saved me” Your head is ringing and you can’t find it in you to peel your eyes open. The feeling of being heavily sedated yet pumped full of adrenaline at the same time, it felt so close to suffocation your body forces Itself into fight or flight. You're strapped to an average hospital bed with steel restraints, the cold metal on your hot skin not soothing you whatsoever. When your eyes peel open you eyes your vision is blurry you only make out blobbed figures until blinking a few times. A bright light is being shined in your face and you bare fangs at the person behind it.

“Stitch! Are you trying to lose a limb!? Back off!” The doctor barks at the dirty blonde nurse who flinches double, scrambling to get away from your bedside and out of her superiors way. Kyle is holding your hand at your right not caring if you’d scold him for being so worried all the time, Simon sits in a corner where he can see everything the medical team dies to you while also seeing who comes in and out of the door, John hovers reluctant with all medical staff —with that my team my concern mindset—, while Johnny stands beside Tank and Red near the door as they give the nurses their rundowns. You go to open your mouth only to be met with your vocal cords screaming at you in protest. The inability to speak makes you you groan that sounds more like a whine of a kicked puppy than anything

“I apologize, lieutenant. We believe it’s a side effect of the gunpowder in your bloodstream and we’re flushing you out as quickly as possibl-”

“Are there any updates to the status reports I requested?” You would have usually made fun of the dragons unusual impatience if you were in the comfort of his office; however you're in this cold, stale room that smells of too much bleach.

“Yes captain, the bullet is in fact meant to kill stronger hybrids. Once the hybrids are pierced with it there’s really no return for them, the gunpowder runs through the stream they become lucid quickly and all docile tendencies are forgotten. However, we suspect that that particular outburst from lieutenant y/l/n will be her only one because we’ve nailed down where it came from. We played around with time frames that lined up the best. You were shot and just before the ammo could burst with its gunpowder and spread the toxins through your stream you had fed blood to your lowerank to heal him.” The doctor cleared her throat before giving the room a much wanted update of your condition

“That doesn’t explain why she dropped ‘im like an old toy when Ghost’s blood was introduced.” Price spoke up too many gaps were missing for the brunette's taste as he ran a few fingertips through his short salt and pepper beard.

“I didn’t think such a… uncomfortable topic should be discussed as of right now” At the sound of reasoning Simon moves to stand messy bandaging over the he cuts having waved away the nurses who’d tried to attend to him —a little papercut shouldn’t not taken their attention off of you—. The room seemed significantly smaller when the lieutenant stood

“If opposing threats tread with those bullets we need to know everything about them. Nothing in this line of work is comfortable” His voice screamed demanding; demanding of attention, demanding of response, demanding of results. The middle aged woman visibly swallowed before speaking with a voice filled with discontent.

“With previous blood work of you three well, you all line back to lieutenant Y/l/n, or more precisely she lines back to you” Soaps ears perk up and so did his tail, fur rigid against the skin of it. He wants the brightest apple but he wasn’t the dullest pen either. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together but it sounded so off putting. You fed from them? He’d been around vampires before and you did show qualities of one, the fangs, the pitch black eyes when you fed, it was evidence and it was there… but you didn’t smell like one and seemed to have not even the slightest sensitivity to the sun. The mystery of it all killed him

If you weren’t a hybrid what the hell were you?

“Us, but it doesn’t make sense. She had me there could’ve bit into me” Gaz finishes for the medical agent brows furrowed once again the skin between them creased. The doctor nods while prying on a pair of blue latex gloves

“Doctors from both sides of base have been working on it for now, we believe it’s because you weren’t bleeding. It wasn’t potent enough for her to take interest in it. Our second guess? She was attracted to what or who she got done with last.” The room was silent, one heavy fog was replaced with another. No one speaks of what’s been revealed however you’re onto the next topic before you can dwell on it. The head doctor approaches you slowly, as if you were a skittish cat in the wild.

“I’m just gonna draw a little blood from you to run a few tests, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” You blink at her with sharp eyes and tense muscles when you see the size of the needle, not too much length enough to prick a vein the girth however made your hand twitch in Gaz’s palm. It even made the Scott want to tuck his tail with a wince.

“Hey. You’re alright, you’re fine, you hear me? You’re alright” Ghost had stepped up beside Price to your temporary bed, the heart monitor spikes and before you know it the needle is in your shoulder —meer meters away from the bullet wound that was mending itself at an inhuman speed—. You hiss jerking it away but the doctor is a good one and follows your quick motions successfully. Collecting enough blood in the clear syringe to send off to the labs. She quickly bandages your wound back confident, but not ignorant enough to linger around an upset hybrid.

“Test results should be back as soon as possible, in the meantime while lieutenant Y/l/n flushes the toxins out of her body the side effects of the bullet are still possible until further notice.”

“Which are?” The harpy huffs temper running unusually short, palm gripping your closed fist tighter —not enough to hurt but enough to notice a difference— a lick of tired at the woman’s shirt answers.

“Anything from spikes of heart rate, cold sweats, immense… hunger and most of all intense hallucinations. We think by the time her voice has returned most of the threat should be absent. All we can do is let it run its course, I’m sorry.” The brunette discards of her gloves and leaves the room idle. As much as you try to stay away your eyes droop low and are soon closed tight

💌💌💌💌

Soap sits next to your bedside, warm cup of coffee in hand, his eyes straining to look at the small tv mounted on the wall even though he wasn’t actively watching it. He had finally got Ghost to stretch his legs and go take a shower after three days of nothing but cold sweats and spikes of heart rate from you he decided his —other— lieutenant's heart needed a break. After much pestering, convincing, promising to stick by your side, and a little threat that summed up he wouldn’t think you would like to hear about him rotting next to your bedside the wraith finally took a leave after 72 hours.

“Kyle,” The Scott thought he was just imagining things at first or that it came from the Tv but as he stares at you for a while he realizes it was simply not true. He stared at your face for a while until you’re mumbling again and it pangs his chest a little. He didn't know any of you that well —didn’t know anyone except Price and Gaz really— but he still cared nonetheless it was in his nature.

“Simon, dont.” You’re starting to sweat again and your heart monitor is starting to beep. The werewolf moves to stand ringing for a nurse when it seems to get worse, your body is jerking and you keep mumbling in distress.

💌💌💌💌

You're walking up the stairs of some abandoned building, it's eerily chilly and there's really no light except for the dim overhead light on each floor you pass by that continues to flicker. The stairs and walls are concrete to match the walls and floors, you have your rifle pressed against you sweeping each floor swiftly with precision it could almost feel... normal. You reach the fifth floor and there's a stagger in your step. All of your privates lay dead in pools of their own blood like stuck pigs, hybrids and normals alike lie dead. After a spare moment you continue on to finish your mission as you were ordered to, as you were required to. The next floors to come are still filled with dead privates none lie peacefully, all gone in agony, too soon, you could read the tombstones now.

Your boots march almost rhythmically up three more floors and as they go by you are more and more desensitized to the bodies that sprawled the floor. You make it to the final story of the building and there's a door staring back at you, almost challenging you to open it and you take the duel with not the slightest bit of shake in your hand. The door opened with a loud whine at the unusual action and your riffle drops from your arms at the sight behind it.

You see your captain first, bucket hat that you always made fun of inches away from his body. His right horn that sits atop of his head looks damaged beyond repair and his neck is sliced open from ear to ear. Your breath is trapped in your throat and your body doesn't allow you to move. Your mentor, the reason you are where you are, your sacred captain, lies sliced like a sacrificial lamb. Your eyes trail away from the brunette's cold body and you wish they didn't, there lies your sergeant. One of the two full broad wings adorned with brown feathers are gone, singed away. Your sweet brown eyed boy stares at you voidly. There's no crease of his eyes to let you know he's smiling, no brightness to alert you of life, and the look of adoration he always gave you in particular that was taken for granted forever absent. You cradle his bruised face in your palm and this time you can't stop your tears from running downstream on your face.

"Kyle," Your voice cracks at the slightest utter of his name. You don't think you can say anything else or it'll mean it's true, it'll mean your captain and your sergeant are dead. You reluctantly stand a silent promise to come back to them both and make your way further in the room. You can see the back of a balaclava staring back at you and it helps you breathe better. You approach him with his callsign spilling from your lips. He looked to be hacking intel, just like your mission called for. You approach him putting a palm on his shoulder just for his head to fall limp and you could almost laugh. This had to be some cruel, sick, twisted, joke that should end any second now. It doesn't.

"Si get up right now, get the fuck up! GET UP SIMON!" Your body is trembling as you roughly shake his body, there's no response that comes from it hazel eyes rolled deep into the back of his head and you don't know which hurts worse. Your stomach churns when you gently lift the mask off his face to see toxins spreading through his veins up his neck. The best soldier, the strongest man you’ve met, your one and only, was dead.

💌💌💌💌

Put blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter because you guys deserve it

if you voted on my poll from the last chapter then you could see I used all prompts in this chapter except for one which we’ll deep dive into another day🤗

some have asked for a taglist so comment to be added

I hope you guys are having a wonderful year so far I love you and thank you for everything! -G

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neverchecking · 10 months

Note

Hi I love you wirk

And I love how you call totk link sage

Also the cold attack boost outfit I love it my favorite The open back and showing his hips 🤤😋 hot

And I love the zonia

And I have a request

Can I request yandere sage x ruyla ( autocorrect Keeps fixing his name) king of the zonia daughter reader

Smut

Like the reader was sent to the future from her dad with out anyone knowing

And tells link to find his daughter who asleep not to far away from his shrine and go to a the time temple top and the zonia worker will show him the way

And they reade is a sweet flower but looks up to Link.

And link falls for her.

And won't let anyone take her even if it mean Baby trapping her please and thank you

And I love you.

At first I was like Raylu???? Then I noticed you mentioned autocorrect and I was like ah- Rauru.

You absolutely can. I love every part of this idea. I feel like a perfect companion to Sage is one that is just such a sunshiney baby.

Anyway, I meant to get this out last night after work, but I got high instead and spent an hour watching the ceiling fan. I also wrote like the weirdest draft ideas and I'm deciding if they're worth fleshing out at all.

(Sage is TotK Link!)

Also smut so MDNI! 18+

Smut CW: Breeding kink, baby trapping, reader is a little naive. Sage. He's a crusty little bastard. (affectionately) Dumbification.

It had many names, the Legend of the Dragon's Daughter. Many of which titled it as either a legend or a story. A myth. Some warned of great dangers surrounding the aura of the spirit the legend told about. Other's told of the pure divinity that this being held in the palm of their hand. The grace and adroitness that lined their very pores was spoken of so fondly by the older generations who had heard the story from their own grandparents, who had heard it from theirs and so on and so forth. The older Zora especially spoke of her in such a tone he found himself lending a little belief to the legend.

The story told of a daughter, blessed to the first King and Queen of Hyrule by the Three Goddesses themselves. A princess bestowed with the gift of beauty and grace, a beacon to the budding kingdom. There were even carvings under Hyrule Castle, hidden by toppled boulders, that portrayed her image.

And he would admit. She looked like a being having been blessed by the heavens above.

The carvings had showed an ugly side to an already bitter story. How this princess, this goddess sculpted muse, was struck down by the Demon King as a means to get back at both King Rauru and Queen Sonia. The carvings from there had been too worn down to get a clear reading, but it was enough to pique his interest. Besides, what else did he have to do? Save a princess who had no issues with leaving him to die? Deal with monsters that the people of Hyrule already knew damn well how to deal with and were no longer scared of them? Traverse the depths and all the lightroots he had already found?

At least this way, he may get some new power out of it. If nothing else, at least he had a good story for Traysi.

His first area to investigate was the sky island he woke up on. He could still spot Rauru's spirit in certain areas, understanding the solemn look he seemed to wear much more than he previously did.

It was also much easier to travel around the island this time around, which was a bonus.

When prodded for answers, something complicated flashed over the spirit's face before it settled into a Grim acceptance. One Link had worn too often right after remembering the untimely demise of the Champions.

"She was gravely injured. My precious sunshine. I almost lost her that day." He had spoken in a grave echo, eyes glazed and far off, as if seeing his daughter right in front of him. "My sister, Mineru, had offered her services in an effort to preserve her soul. I am unsure if it had worked. I haven't had the heart to look. I would be such a disappointment to her fiery heart and iron strong will to shine in the brightest ways possible. She was kept in the Temple of Time if you are at all curious."

He was. He was curious. He wanted to see this being for himself. If Rauru spoke so highly of you, it had to be worth it. And it was either this or go save Zelda, and he figured she was fine doing what she currently was for a little while longer.

At least until he looked further into this.

Walking into the temple, he hummed to himself as he looked around, spotting the blue glow of Rauru near a wall closer to the exit. He nodded solemnly when Link approached. The hand that matched his own raised to the wall, pulling forth one of those green symbols that chimed at his hand. The bricks shuffled and moved while Rauru faded out, leaving an unactive construct in front of him. It rattled to life, chirping up at him before recognizing that he was friend and not foe. The Construct explained that he was designed to protect the chasm the Princess was being kept in, but since Rauru had deemed him worthy, he would escort the blond to the place. It wasn't a long journey, not at all, just down a spiraling staircase with stone walls curtained by moss.

But the moment he laid eyes on you, he understood why you were hidden.

You face was lax in such a peaceful expression as your body remained weightless, suspended in a bubble of seafoam green and ocean blue. Your hair was splaying up behind you as if you were underwater with your hands clasped around a hilt of a sword. Even the sword itself was divinity in a blade, glowing a bright white from it's place in front of you. You were clad in white robes trimmed in cold with a stone necklace laced around your delicate neck, those same white earrings hanging from your ears.

You were...ethereal. From the curve of your jawbone to the plump flesh of your cheeks, he was enthralled by your very essence. The curve of your shoulders and the toned flow of your arms, even the dip in your collarbone-- all of it had his eyes trailing every bend and curve of your body.

What he wouldn't do to get a piece of you.

He ached to just touch your sun-kissed skin, to feel it under his palms as he held you. To feel the run of your hips, fingers gripping at the dips that decorated them. To paint them a splattering of blues and purples in a lasting reminder of who he was and what he had done to you. To bite and nibble at the flesh just to hear the kind of cries you would make.

Goddess, he couldn't imagine what your voice sounded like, but he wanted to. He wanted to hear what it sounded like while you breathlessly gasped out. To hear what it sounded like when you cried out his name in pure ecstasy as you withered underneath of him. To hear you give yourself to him entirely.

He wanted to feel your weight on top of him, to experience your hands in his hair (Or cupping his cheeks if he chose to allow himself that vulnerability), to live in your orbit, worshipping you as his one true Goddess.

His eyes landed on the same green symbol that unlocked everything pertaining to the Zonai. He raised his hand in response. It lit up a bright green before fading. The bubble shined brightly before growing, eventually popping and exposing you to the elements. Which why? You were so vulnerable like that? Why not just give you to him directly? You were at risk like this. Couldn't they SEE THAT-

Whatever invisible force keeping you suspended gently laid you on your feet, which were bare, only adorned with an anklet matching your necklace. The tip of the sword in your hand clinked against the stone floor. The echo of it made your eyes, your gorgeous, gorgeous eyes, snap open. If he thought seeing you before was captivating, this was downright...enchanting. The light of your irises positively glowed as your silently gasped, hands tightening around the hilt of the weapon. He rushed to your side as he saw your balance falter, cradling you in his arms as one of your hands came to gently hold your own temple. Even just the sound of your groan made him swallow hard, fighting the blood threatening to rush to his (dick-) cheeks.

You blinked before realizing that he was not someone you knew, pushing him away with much more force than he would expect from someone fresh out of a comatose state. The only thing stopping him from wrapping his arms around you once more was the tip of the very blade now prodding at his neck. He swallowed.

"Who are you?" You demanded, hold on the weapon shaking just a tad.

(Which was so adorable. How someone like you, all soft skin and doe eyes, expected to make someone like him, rugged scars and gnarled morals, bend to you was beyond him.)

(But he'd love to see you try anyway.)

"Where are my people?! Or Queen Sonia and King Rauru?!" Oh, you were so cute.

He wanted to decimate that innocence you carried.

With a careful hand, he gently pushed the blade aside with the back of a hand, letting a smug smirk settle on his lips. Your cheeks immediately reddened as your attention remained on him. Just as he liked it, he decided then and there. He liked having your attention (and only yours) on him. But having you acting so hostile towards him just wouldn't stand. But you didn't know any better, not yet anyway, so he'd let it slide.

He gently explained that you had been fatally wounded protecting your people, something that your parents were endlessly proud of you for-- even in death. While it was a direct shot in his, admittedly lacking, heart to be the one to tell you of the passed time and the death of your parents (The sacrifice of your father and the betrayal that lead to your mother's death), he was evidently the best and only option. He understood, on an intimate level, what it was like to loose so much time, healing yourself, while the rest of the world carried on, carrying the loss of friends and family with it. He knew what it was like. It had to be why you two were so perfect for each other.

He held you as your cried, soothing down your hair as your tears (Which should never have been shed) soaked his shoulder. While he was never interested in defeating the Demon King for Zelda's sake, he may have just found another motive.

One much more worthy of his time and attention.

<><><><>

When he first saw you, he understood why you were hidden, on a surface level.

He understood why much more on a deeper, more intimate one now.

You were so bubbly. Even when faced with the devastation of your home, you remained optimistic, greeting the constructs that roamed around happily. Bestowing your cherished kisses (Those should belong to him.) upon their cold exterior while wiping them free of dirt. Even the wildlife that had squawked and charged at him crooned and chirped under your touch, hankering for the scratches you gifted them under the chin. You saw beauty in the overrun weeds and fauna, taking great interest in the new species that had popped up.

When he took to the mainland, via shrine travel because he would be damned before you got down the same way he originally did, it seemed like you couldn't see everything fast enough. You loved exploring the caves, despite the Like-Likes baring their disgusting teeth and innards (Which he quickly disposed of), ached to get as close as possible to the chasms (Which wasn't very as he refused to risk you falling in), yearned to traverse the mountain peaks and snow dunes of the mainland (Which killed him on the inside since didn't you know how dangerous those were?!).

You were quite the adventurer, full of inexperienced naivety and unpoised curiosity. The exact opposite of the princess he knew. He forgot you were royalty have the time with your mannerisms, nothing like Zelda. Which was so refreshing.

If only you weren't so fragile. He would never admit it (Too your face at least) that he's thought of just tying you down and keeping you in his (He saw it as your shared home these days) home. It was on the far outskirts of Tarrey town (Far enough no one would hear your cries for help should it come to that) with a pasture out front so you could keep a horse nearby as a friend (Should you behave).

(It wouldn't be a young, steady horse. No, most likely an older horse who had long since retired from any sort of running or getaway attempts.)

He just needed a way to keep you stationary.

And it hit him like a Hinox. You two were walking around Hateno (It was deemed safe and far enough from Tarry Town that it was still new to you), when you stopped, let out a high enough squeal his ears pinned to his head as his head snapped towards you. You were always in his peripheral, but now you were right in front of him with his hands quickly holding your arms, checking you over for injury. There were none, but you were beaming like someone had handed you a million rupees (He would. He could. He'd do it just for you), instead redirecting his attention with a call of 'Link, look!'. He had followed your line of sight just as you began squeezing his own hands, expecting you to be aweing over a cow or goat or, Goddess forbid, a dog again (You very nearly took one of stable dogs home last time). But you weren't.

And that's when it hit him.

You were loosing any semblance of a mind you had over a small infant, strapped to their mother's back by a wrap of some sort. The babe smiled at your reaction, letting out a small cascade of giggles that had you squealing in pure joy.

That was it.

The answer was right there! How could he have been so blind?! It was right there. If he gave you a baby, his baby no less, you would have no choice but to remain dormant. You would have to stay right where he put you to not only protect yourself, but to your protect your child. He had no doubt you would do it. You were too kind, too naive, for any other option. Once you figured out you were carrying his child, you'd fall for thing, claiming it as your own before it was any bigger than an apple seed.

And from then on it would just be a matter of formalities. You'd be his for the rest of your lives.

Exactly what he wanted.

Exactly what had led up to this moment. You were nothing but a babbling, crying mess underneath of him, pulling at the roots of his hair as he folded your legs against your chest. You were pleading with him, some mindless demand that he wasn't even sure you knew what you were asking, but it was background noise. He was too focused on watching the way he disappearing into your cunt, a milky sheen coating the shaft of his cock as heavy dollops of past loads dripped past your gaping opening. It was mesmerizing the way your body reacted to him, sucking him in and fighting him every time he pulled out. Even on an unconscious level, you ached for him. Not nearly as much as he breathed for you, but that would come with time. He knew it would. He'd ensure it.

The cry of his name on your lips had the coil in his gut steadily tightening as his pace picked up, thoroughly hammering your insides. He needed to make sure he was prodded right against your cervix for this to work. He needed to get this right. He needed to father any and all of your children. Starting here and now.

Whether you knew about it or not.

You had babbled something about him pulling out too long ago, but he had...distracted you with long laps at your clit and soft nipples along your thighs. He didn't even think of truly ruining you until you were clenching your thighs around his head and drenching his bottom jaw, too gone to properly process anything going on around you.

And he'd keep it that way.

His thumb, rough and calloused, rubbed harsh little circles into your clit, feeling it pulse in time with his ministrations. You whimpered beneath him, chest arching up to push against his own as you cried out, squeezing around him. You were positively milking him for every drop he had to offer.

There was no way you didn't want his children. Not with the way you were clenching around him as he jutted as far as he could go, filling your womb once more. You laid boneless beneath him, hands dropping to hang around his neck as he took a moment to breath. Your cunt spasmed once more and his cock twitched inside of you.

"You're not done yet, are you, Princess?" He purred into your ear, making it flicker as he rolled his hips against yours, even if overstimulation rocked his entire system in a flash of shot nerves.

None of that mattered to him. He had a mission. A mission he would do anything to accomplish.

Anything to keep you as his.

Yes, the reader was holding the Light Sword. Yes, I know that's not how you get it. I just thought it would be a cool tidbit bc YES, Sage seems like the type to get turned on by a hot princess threatening with a sword.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #loz #link x reader #cindersins #yandere sage #yandere sage x reader #yandere lu sage #yandere lu sage x reader #lu sage #sage is totk link

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themotherofblood · 10 months

Text

Let’s Play Dress Up

Vampire!Rhaenyra x Reader x Vampire!Daemon

masterlist | Bloody Baby AU | Vampire AU

synopsis: Ms Blood Bag breaks a rule to play her little game, stumbles onto Rhaenyra’s midnight snack. Rhaenyra punishes Baby to prove to Daemon she isn’t soft with Baby

warnings: DARK! DUBCON (I think) NONCON (to be safe) blood, blood drinking, infantilism, mdlg vibes? mommy mink, sub space? pet play, spanking (paddle), clamps (nipples and clit), vibrators, exhibitionism? butt plugs and bondage. overstimulation!! degradation!! pussy spanks. heel worship. WlW,

A/N: what have I done 😨

Another day of digging through your closet, gowns of pinks, baby blues, sweetheart neck lines, halter tops, sparkly, tulle, high slits—high slit. You happily shuffled out of your sundress for the day, your getting ready playlist blaring through the ceiling speakers. The red dress hugged your body perfectly, the silk so cold it made your nipples perk up and rub against the fabric. You excitedly twirled, damn— you already imagined your best friend hooting at you once she saw you in this. You clicked a picture and sent it to her, nibbling at your thumb and smiling to yourself.

Makeup, because why not, you still had five hours before Rhaenyra made it home. Daemon had left for Braavos the night before, preparing for the charity gala for a deal well struck. You hummed along, rubbing moisturiser into your skin, you had hoped to put on some mascara, maybe a nice bold lip to match the dress— mostly since it would be easy to scrub off in the shower. It was only then you realised from all the lip glosses, oils and sticks. Not a single red, barely darker than a hot pink. You pouted, you knew this was Daemon’s doing, forever infantilising you to his perfect little girl. The frilly socks and the bowl of candy in your room.

You knew who did have beautiful red shades— Rhaenyra! You knew you weren’t supposed to be in their rooms when they weren’t home. Only having been inside the dark scarlet room twice, the night of the party and the second was when they showed you the cabinet full of dragon eggs. You sauntered over, your Versace pumps clicking against the marble floor as you walked across the corridor to the other end of the grand staircase. You rested your hand upon the gold handle for a moment, looking back to your rooms once more— they wouldn’t know — you pushed the handle open.

The strong scent of mahogany and vanilla filled your nostrils, you once more looked to your rooms and the the floor below through the trim railings to check for Mrs Stone before slowly closing the door behind, wincing at the gentle thud as it latched close. You turned, the thick maroon and sheer white curtains pulled, the only glow in the room came from the heated egg chambers. You happily trotted over, squatting down to admire them once more.

“Hello dragons.” You mused, petting the egg from the outside, finger dragging against the warm glass. “Will you hatch? Maybe one crack…” you spoke to the white egg with gold scales “no? Please?”

What pulled you from your adoration gleam upon the dragons was the quiet but very apparent whines echoing in the room. You looked around the living space, finding nothing as you stood in confusion and stood straight. Walking towards your left to Rhaenyra walk-in-closet. The moment you stepped in, the soft vanilla smell of her perfume became more apparent. Her closet far bigger than yours, shelves covered with glass doors and quaint vanity at the end of the room. The centre island filled with jewels, rubies, gold, a very distinct dark metal necklace with rubies laid on a plush velvet holder. Valyrian steel, just like Daemon and Rhaenyra’s signet rings.

You looked at the vanity, eyeing the perfect scarlet to match your skin tone and the dress. You pout your lips to swipe the colour across your lips before looking side to side, a little messy without lip liner but just to mess around? This would have to do, you wiped around the corners of your mouth before making sure everything was placed right back where the belong before leaving.

Again, you were graced with whimpers, you were sure they were there. You should have left, you knew you should have. However your curiosity are at your as you ventured further to their bedroom, and then it was. The source of the whimpers, a tied redheaded woman, heaving with the gag shoved in her mouth. Her hands chained to the brass ringlet mounted to the wall, the second she say you her shoulders slumped as she blinked her tears away. Then she gestured her head to the chains, you gulped - fuck, what the hell had you stumbled into - you walked forward bending to her eyes, worried for the poor thing.

You pulled the tape from her mouth, cries pouring through in relief. She had dried blood running down her neck, chipping against her skin. She sniffled her cries to try and halt them.

“Ho- how long have you been here.” She hiccuped, seeing a glimmer of hope for survival in you

“Two months…” you looked to her chapped lips “do you need water?”

She furiously nodded as you stood up, tiptoeing across to your room to not alert Mrs Stone as your grabbed your pink cup and sprinted back with your skirt hiked up.

You bent by her head again, holding the straw to her lips and letting her drink, her hair was in a messy braid, the stray hairs clinging to her skin and her skin ghostly pale. You pulled two tissues from the tissue box on the side table and wet it with the water from your cup. Gently rubbing away the dried blood.

“We have to leave!” She croaked “why haven’t you run?”

“Run? I live here now, with Daemon and Rhaenyra. This is my home.” You monotonically replied, still wiping away at the blood, your heart mildly thudding. Not for her, she shouldn’t be here.

She was in their room, chained by their bed. You weren’t even allowed in here. Your heart thud louder as you rubbed away “we can never leave.”

“No! You don’t understand, we can run…” she huffs “I counted steps and you— you know this place. Please! Untie me, we can go.” More tears fell from her eyes as she pleaded with you.

You looked back to the door before reaching for her cuffs, that heaviness in your chest returning as you unhooked the bonds for the ringlet and started pulling at the chains.

“What do you think you are doing?” Rhaenyra’s stern voice spoke up from behind you.

Your blood froze as you slowly turned to face, “uh- I— she,” your words began to fail you.

“Get away from her.” Rhaenyra commanded, pointing at the bed for you to go sit on the bed.

A hard glare fixated itself within the purple of her eyes as she swiftly tied up the red haired woman again.

“Was she letting you go, sweetie.” Rhaenyra asked the girl, petting away her hair and you frowned harder. You’re her sweetie. The girl nodded, making Rhaenyra tut before turning to you. Her eyebrows quirk, awaiting an explanation.

You looked at your fiddling finger on your lap, unable to muster up an answer as she came to hold up your jaw. She was disappointed, you could see it in her eyes.

“What was the rule?” Rhaenyra questioned, she should have known your curiosity would kill you soon. Mostly she was worried that you would be terrified of her now.

“Don’t go to your room.” You whispered, still trying to look away.

Hmm

“You just had to play dress up that badly, huh?” she stroked her thumb across your cheek. “Let’s play dress up then.”

You sat on your knees, moving your weight uncomfortably.

“Don’t be scared.” Rhaenyra had whispered, forcing your to look at her, your head went blank for a moment and then your heart wasn’t thudding as hard anymore

All you could here were the placated whimpers from the red-haired girl sitting on Rhaenyra’s lap as she fed on her. Not a drop of blood trickled down as she controlled the flow of the girl’s blood through the carotid. Jealously was burning at your throat as Rhaenyra took her time leisurely feeding on this girl, she only fed like that on you. You were all pouty, however you couldn’t look away if you knew what was best for you.

Rhaenyra had dressed you throughly, after ripping through your red gown, she had pushed a cabinet to open. Pulling out a red collar to wrap around you neck, she had cherry lubed your ass, pushing in a plush red kitten tail butt plug into your hole and then promptly pulling onto it to tease you. Clamps with kitten bells on them had been pinching on your nipples as she sucked them hard before sliding them on. Your horror was when she flicked her tongue against your clit just the way you liked it to have you squirming and then clamped the little bud over the hood. The kitten bell adding just enough weight for it to remain dangling in between your legs.

You wanted to call out to her, beg her to feed from you instead but you couldn’t. You focused so hard on the way her lips’s suckled around the girl’s skin. There were tears rolling down your red hot cheeks.

Rhaenyra pushed the girl off her, she was still conscious but too weak to break her fall as she laid flat with a thud.

“Come here kitty,” she motioned her fingers towards you. “Come to Mommy baby.”

You moved to stand but she stopped you, “Crawl to me.”

You placed your palms flat against the plush rug, crawling over to the space in between Rhaenyra’s legs without giving the barely moving girl’s body laid on the other side of the floor. The bells clamped to you jingled as you inched forward, longing to bury your head in between her thighs.

You stopped in between her thighs, glancing up at her through your lashes, your glossy red lips just begging to be kissed and bitten. You were about to rest your head on her thigh but she pushed you back with her heeled foot.

“Lick my heels, kitty.” she smiled, tapping her other foot on the ground.

You waited for a moment before bending down, your pink tongue poking out and licking a strip through the pencil-thin heel of her red-bottom shoes. You hummed, kissing the heel. Taking your sweet time to show her how sorry you were. She tapped your cheek with her other foot, letting you switch over and lick up the covered foot and then her heel.

Rhaenyra pulled you up by the hair, admiring the lengths you had gone to play your little dress up game before. The red bows in your hair would have Daemon feral and she knew the perfect way to coax her husband back home early. She reached down to pinch both your nipples as she pulled you up to your feet, you yelped, the sting radiating through your tits as you gave her the pouted lips once more.

She stood to push you down where she sat, taking a moment to admire the mess you were soon to be before flicking her middle onto your pouted lips, they wouldn’t work this time. The connectable cuffs laying idle around your wrists and ankles were just waiting to be used as Rhaenyra pulled you to the edge of the bed. You scent of gleaming cunt making her impatient as she hooked each of your ankles to your wrists, forcing you to keep your legs spread open.

“Now— you’ve been bad.” She began, shuffling down to pick up the forgotten flogger in her hands.

“I’m sorry Mommy.” You whimpered the second you saw her stroking through the ropes of the flogger.

“Ah- ah kitties don’t talk baby,” she tutted, reminding you of the plug situated in your asshole as she gently pulled on the plug to stroke the tail. “Use that dumb baby brain of yours and tell me, what do kitties do?”

The humiliations burned through your chest, more tears welling in your eyes but what other alternative did you have?

“Meow?” you asked, hoping to appease her enough to weasel your way out of this predicament.

“Good girl!” She praised before swatting the flogger sharp against your ass. Your help bringing her much joy.

“Let’s see—“ she rubbed the sore skin of your ass “Mommy will strike you ten times, and you will count? You can count kitty? Can’t you?”

You nodded your head, sniffling.

“Good, let’s begin then.”

The first hit landed against your ass, your body stiffened as you whimpered. “O-one.” You stammered.

Another immediate strike radiated through your rear, much harder—a penalty. You made mistake. “Kitties do not talk.” She reiterated.

“Meow.” You sobbed.

The lashes came one after the other, Rhaenyra had enough sympathy in her heart to soothe the sore flesh with her palm as she waited for you to mewl out your kitten count before striking harder than the one before. The last one, you screamed. Legs shuddering from the pain as your cried out the last count. Face covered in mascara tears and snot as you lamented the ache on your ass, the tips of the flogger curling bitterly around you curves to cover the expanse of your skin. Some cruelly being landed right onto your cunt, the fourth one making your squirt from the pain.

Rhaenyra sighed, dropping the flogger and reaching for her phone in her trouser pocket. The sight of your reddened, blue ass was sure to be a ticket home for Daemon.

“Look here baby, pose for mommy.” she cooed, the frame perfectly capturing your tear-soaked face, your sopping cunt and your bruised ass. Even the little red ribbons in your hair leaking from behind made it in, along with the tail hanging over the edge of your bed. Your swollen little clamped nub also waiting to say hello to Daddy. She smiled to herself as she sent the live picture to Daemon before tossing her phone to the armchair.

She was nowhere near done with breaking you apart just yet.

She pulled out a vibrator next, hoping to reward you for taking your spankings like a good little girl. She reached up to the bed to place a pillow under your back to angle you to her liking before shuffling behind you, pulling you snugly between her legs. She unhooked the cuffs, holding onto your ankles as she freed them. You whimpered feeling the cramps in your hips.

“Shhh—you are fine kitten, no more pain for you.” She cooed, letting your legs fall before hooking her calves around them to keep them spread open.

She reached for the oh so yearning bud next, the worst of it all. Toying with the little bell as you yipped and flinched, she gently pulled it off. Letting the bundle of nerves fill but blood again, the filling pain had you crying out. Trying to bury yourself in Rhaenyra hold as she consoled you.

“Oh baby, so swollen look.” She curred, letting the pads of her fingers gently graze over the peaking flesh before pushing the hood behind.

She turned on the vibrator, the setting low as she pressed against your clit. You squirmed against her hold but to no avail. She tapped the vibrator on your bud. You still mewled, rubbing your hips into the cool object.

Even in the throb of your ass and the one very evident in your clit, your first orgasm tore through you out of nowhere.

“That’s it, good girl!” Rhaenyra praised as she pressed down the vibrator hard, switching the setting up higher.

Just as the waves of the first one washed over, dread-filled in your belly as Rhaenyra didn’t pull away. You cried harder, the oversensitive tingle in your bud began to knock the air out of your lungs. Clawing at your insides as you cleaned harder around nothing, wanting to beg her to stop, please mommy, you tapped at her thigh but she wouldn’t budge.

Rhaenyra knew you would break, you would speak. She didn’t want to hurt you more for violating another rule, finding the only solution for this and sticking two fingers into your mouth. Using it to gag you as she stroked your slimy tongue, your soft lips curled around her fingers as your muffled wails indicated your next peak.

This time you gushed around the vibrator, screaming from the back of your mouth as Rhaenyra pulled out her fingers to push open your hood further, letting those cruel vibrations focus on your weeping clit. You thrashed, shaking your head as the wave toppled you down, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching away from Rhaenyra Your entire body stiffened as the warmth engulfed you once more.

Rhaenyra turned off the toy, dropping it on the bed next to her as she held you through your orgasm. The pads of her fingers rubbing through your folds gently and circling around your throbbing clit. You still sobbed in her arms, unable to speak, you looked up at her. Vision blurred from tears as you cried, Rhaenyra kissed your temple as she pulled off the nipple clamps.

You shrieked as she rubbed them, soothing the pebbled flesh with the cool pads of her thumbs. So bitterly pinched and hardened.

You wept, letting Rhaenyra scoop you up into her lap; your head immediately burying itself into her chest as you wailed, she was rocking you, like a child grazing their knee upon she was soothing you with the rubs on your back.

You look up at her, still hiccuping through your sobs. She knew what you wanted, tracing the trembling bottom lip as she laid a peck on it.

“You can speak, baby.” She purred, her eyes long softened at the broken figure of yours.

“I- I’m sorry Mommy.” You pule, then again hiding your face in her chest.

Rhaenyra might have sat there for hours, rocking your shaking frame in her hands, humming a Valyrian lullaby to soothe your aching.

“Do I not make Daddy and you happy anymore?” You weakly mused, your fingers toying with the gold chain on Rhaenyra’s neck.

She frowned looking down at you before nudging her nose against your forehead to make you look up at her.

“What makes you say that?”

“She gets to stay with you at night,” you referred to the red-haired girl “You like feeding on her.”

“Oh, baby.” she cooed in a sing-song voice “She is just a midnight snack,” Rhaenyra explained. “Just like the candy bags in your room.”

You were still pouting, satiated with the answer but unhappy. You could still see her wrist laying on the floor, you looked away.

There was a longing, you needed to be sure. You lifted your wrist to her lips, looking at her pleadingly.

“You want me to feed on you?” Rhaenyra tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, a burst of triumph flared in her chest. The reasons to compel you into feeding seemed to have been fading.

“Please, Mommy.” You mumbled, shuffling further into her hold.

Rhaenyra took hold of your wrist, just grazing the poking nerve with her fangs as her eyes darkened, the nerves yet again pooling around her eyes, a terrifying sight to most but not to you. She hummed before sinking her fangs into the flesh. Fine caviar amongst the pretenders, she groaned at the sweet coppery taste of your blood. Watching over you as you closed your eyes, dozing in a soft slumber dancing across your eyes.

Phew… here’s another Rhaenyra focused chapter. I’m sorry if this is a bit much compared to my usually vanilla smut (minus the incest)

I’m giggling thinking of Daemon loosing his find over the picture of tied up and weeping Ms Blood Bag

comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Let me know in the comment if you would like to be on the Taglist :)

Taglist (thank you omg 😭)

@fav-goddess @you-youuuu @funnybunnyxxx @evattude @avalyaaa @apollonshootafar

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #vampire!daemon #daemyra vampire au #vampire!rhaenyra #vampire au #vampire #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #house of the dragon fanfiction

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mcflymemes · 6 months

Text

AS SAID BY IRON BULL * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

hey, don't top from the bottom.

next time you're free, why don't you come grab a drink?

didn't figure you were the kind to bed your way to power.

love is all starlight and gentle blushes. passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.

do you want your silky underthings back, or did you leave those like a token?

you're the toughest, wisest, most beautiful person i've ever met.

these big muscled hands could tear those robes off you while you struggled, helpless in my grip.

i will never hurt you without your permission. you will always be safe.

you don't need to be afraid... unless you want to.

you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you're inclined to do the forbidden...

you want to watch, don't you?

make sure you undress him with your eyes... respectfully.

i'd offer to help you get rid of that frustration but, you know... i'm in a committed relationship.

next time we're alone, i'm going to pin you down and do things your body won't believe.

all that crap made sense to you?

i can't tell you how proud i'm gonna be, watching you out there, addressing them... with this big, old love bite on your neck.

wait, i'll flex a little for you. make it easier.

that staff's in pretty good shape. do you spend a lot of time polishing it?

i can see you don't want to talk about it. bet you looked good doing it, though.

how do you manage that while staring up at everyone's ass the whole time?

you and i are fine as long as you don't do any weird crap.

i'd pin you down, and as you gripped me, i... would... conquer... you.

oh, for shit's sake.

good. i like that energy. stoke those fires, big guy.

all i'm saying is... you ever want to explore that, my door's always open.

worked that out on your own, did you?

you're not as flashy as most mages.

wait, did you "forget" them so you'd have an excuse to come back? you sly dog.

i didn't say it was healthy.

you don't actually like thinking about hurting people, do you?

if you do that, everyone knows you're a spy.

still waiting for me to do something sneaky and spy-like?

we probably won't try down to burn down a city this time.

really not sad i missed that one.

you're lucky then. it was awful.

you only lack the will to get more blood on your hands?

enjoying the great outdoors?

this area's low on dancing girls, sadly.

i've always liked fighting.

i'm not sure you know what you're asking. not sure if you're ready for it.

well, that's a fucking relief.

i'm fine. hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.

so, you going to let me have it, [name]? or do i get to wait and wonder?

you really kicked the crap outta that guy.

it's pretty hot where we're from.

it's not a secret. it's just too big for a quit chat.

you get that thing i asked about?

maybe you should stand in front of me.

you ever get the asses mixed up?

you're a damn fine marksman.

i fell on a guy who tried to stab me in the gut.

all right, now you're just making it weird.

nobody fights well when their clothes are on fire.

i... didn't mean to offend you.

that hurts, [name]. that's hurtful.

i may have done it a couple of times on purpose.

i cold 'cause it freezes them, and then they break into little bits when i chop them in half.

with the magic, do you prefer fire, or lightning, or cold, or what?

you don't need to worry. i have no intention of trying to leash anyone.

are you gonna write me into one of your stories?

it's just daring somebody to try to attack it.

when that breaks, you fix it. like we're doing now.

in theory, they're no different from anyone else.

anyone who takes that burden and lives a good life with it has many respect.

you're pretty tall for a human.

the bloodstains are good for scaring enemies.

could you make it sound angrier? "love" is a bit soft.

tell me more about the coat.

i don't need a book to remind me that the world is full of horrible crap.

you're really good with that bow.

it's just friendly. i won't step in your business.

what i'm saying is, please stop stealing my kills.

we should get shirts. probably need different sizes.

i think you're confusing. how can you just pick and choose what parts you believe in?

you know, i really like hitting things.

who has sex smelling like roses?

hey, i don't hate you. you and me? we're good.

hey, no-pants fridays is a cause.

it's a difficult thing you've done, turning your back on one life to live another.

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lavenderslabyrinth · 4 months

Text

A Sacrificial Game 2

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

p.t 1

pt. 3

Welcome to part two! I'm a very slow writer so you may notice that I posted these parts somewhat consecutively. That's bc I wrote part one last year;;; I know, I know, but I got a new keyboard and I'm obsessed with the way it feels so hopefully it will get me back into writing again! Does anyone even read these...? Gah whatever. Enjoy!

CW: ♢ Abduction ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Mention of Forced Stripping (Brief, not done by love interest) ♢

The next time your eyes opened back up to the dreary world, a groan was involuntarily passing through your lips. Pain. Fuck. Every breath felt like you were splitting open, and as a result, moving was not a very appealing option. Your ribs, whether fractured or broken, you didn't know. But, oh, it was undeniable something was wrong.

The pain had you sweating despite the night's air being blisteringly cold-- colder than it should have been for this time of year, and the more you got your bearings, the more you were able to process what was around you.

A single, dingy lantern hung from the wooden ceiling above you. It swung wildly with every bump and jostle, the flame within it threatening to flicker out each time. The room you were in was moving, no, no room, you were in a carriage. You tried to push through the pain to get yourself up but found your movements restrained-- expensive looking silk ropes curling around your body and a simple white gown you hadn't been wearing before was now draped over your figure. Though pretty, and far more expensive than anything you'd ever owned before, it did little to ease the painful shivers that wracked through you.

You'd been washed, groomed, and redressed with care, but hot rage filled your chest nonetheless. You'd had little to nothing to your own name-- living still with your family and no claim to a spouse, child, or land.

They've stripped you of those things. Taken away your chance at a normal life, and now, too, they've taken your dignity.

A particularly rough bump in the road sent your body up and off the ground for just a moment before slamming you back into the rough wood of the floor. By the Damned... The pain left you winded as a stabbing sensation shot through your entire body.

"Are you alright?" A meek voice spoke up from above you. There, on one of the benches, a meek priest looked down at you with sad eyes full of pity. Was he also Chosen? Were you both about to meet your end? No... His hands were not bound behind his back as yours were-- instead, they freely laid folded in his lap.

Your gaze hardened and, seemingly unable to stand it, he looked away in shame. “Why are you doing this?” You asked coldly--you knew... but hope was still pushing back the dread that was steadily gathering in your gut. He didn’t answer at first, instead he simply shrunk into himself more, as if somehow he would be able to curl around himself and hide away from your accusatory eyes. “Where are we going?”

It took time for him to give you an answer. Time you, whether willingly or not, gave. The air thick with the silence between you two, only broken periodically by the groan of wheels or the creaking of the lantern above, but with your stubborn, uninterrupted glaring, he broke.

"The border that separates man from beast... you've been Chosen."

Bastards. Those bastards! What were the chances?! Did they even actually draw?!

It kind of dawned on you that... they may not have. You questioned authority often, butting heads against those who supported this horrific tradition-- many of the higher officials found your outspoken presence to be a nuisance, and with their own unmarried children to look out for..... Was it really that far of a stretch to say you'd been sacrificed in more ways than one?

"...Let me go." You demanded, and when you were met with resistance, your rage bubbled over. "Let me go this instant! Now!" Shouting hurt, but the fear and adrenaline eased your pain into fuel for your rage.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Harder than it has t- was he fucking kidding?

“You cruel bastard! Damn you and damn that Temple as well!”

As though the carriage had also had enough of your behavior, the jostling movement stopped. With an eerie croak, the doors swung open to reveal the drenched silhouette of gruff looking man in temple garb. If it would have been a stranger you saw, it would still have been equally terrifying, but perhaps it would have hurt a bit less.

You immediately recognized the man as Father Kyron, and a cold weight settled in your gut. The Father had watched you grow and mature since before you could walk-- often taking the time out of his day to play ball or sneak treats to the other children after services had ended. He'd always been such a warm pillar of the community, someone everyone could feel safe with. But those kind eyes that had always looked on at you before were now completely vacant of that gentle affection.

A monster was all that was left.

The rain pelted down on his leather-clad shoulders, cold droplets splattering onto you from the force of their impact. Whether or not he was a holy man of the temple, he looked nothing short of a demon in this moment.

Your screams went ignored as you fought not to be dragged out by your hair; body being dumped unceremoniously into the ground's painful embrace.

Kyron didn't spare you another glance as he once more took ahold of the reins. The priest did the same, shutting the wooden doors with a slam, snuffing out the little light the lantern within had to offer you.

The raging tides of emotions slowly simmered away as the carriage finally moved out of view, and now, instead of anger, hopelessness began to ease it's way into your veins. What could you do? You'd been abandoned. Left to lie in the dirt with only the echoing throbs in your side to keep you company.

Your screams turned to wails, then to sobs, and then to silence. And for a few moments you sat there, unable to process the shock of it all.

There's a funny thing about shock that no one tells you about. When there are plenty of important things for your mind to race through-- whether that be the betrayal of a beloved mentor figure, what would happen to your family, if your father was alright, who would tell Alikar... your mind often defaults to something insignificant; something harmless. And all you could think about were those damn peaches that had been laid together so carefully in your mother's wicker basket by Alikar's careful hand.

Had they all been trampled into the ground? Or would your family be able to salvage the last things you touched into something good and safe and warm for themselves...

Your eyes fixated on watching the way the rain thinned your blood and how it trailed down your skin to mix with the mud beneath you. The colors sickeningly seeped into the once pure white satin of your dress like the branching of a tree. The fabric feeling like it took root to your skin as it clung uncomfortably to your figure. It was a suffocating feeling and, surprisingly, was enough to bring a grimace to your face and give your mind enough clarity to realize footsteps were fast approaching where you sat.

"Here! Over here!"

"Damn it all, I knew I heard something!"

"Get the towels, the poor things soaked!"

Unknown voices made their approach accompanied by the warm, softened glow of lantern light. Though vaguely, you could make out the figures of a small group of armor-clad individuals.

Perhaps it was a bit of a cliche. The knights in shining armor coming to the maiden in distress-- but you could afford little to focus on the irony of it all. All you knew was that whomever held that lantern would be a fate far kinder than hungry animals or a slow fall to the elements.

Saved.

You were saved.

"H-Help me" Was all you could muster, the relief allowing exhaustion and weakness to finally take root in your body. Lead weights settling in your limbs and a quiver in your voice.

The closer they came, the clearer you could see them. They were guards, no doubt patrolmen assigned to protect the border, but very obviously not those of the human kingdom.

Otherfolk

Primarily shifters from what you could tell because, despite their mostly human appearances, their natural, beastly features still shown through. Large rabbit ears, a long flowing tail, wings stuck to their backs, or faces that just weren't quite arranged in the typical human fashion.

To some it would have an been off putting sight, but frankly after all the interaction you'd had with humans for the day... an inhuman face was a welcome sight.

"We've got ya, we're here to help, don't be scared." The rabbit shifter cooed, her gentle paw-like hands cupping your face sweetly as the bat's nimble fingers worked away at your bindings.

Her palms were soft and warm, the sleeves of her tunic smelling like the herbs and incense your mother often used at home. Your eyes closed as you couldn't help but lean into her comforting touch. For a moment, just a moment, the thumb swiping away your tears was not that of a stranger, but your mother. And for a moment... just a moment. You weren't shivering in the cold rain of an unknown land, but instead simply sat at the kitchen table at home waiting for peach pie on your birthday...

---

Ah. Was this death? If it was... it was peaceful. Never before had the space around you felt so soft and warm, and, faintly, there was the gentle scent of citrus in the air.... but was death supposed to be this painful?

Inhaling deeply, you winced, eyes cracking open as you moved blearily to try and sit up only to experience probably one of the most excruciating pains you'd ever felt.

"Easy! Oh, easy, my lady!" A familiar voice fretted, those same gentle hands from before supporting your weight with surprising strength against your shoulders. Carefully, she eased you back in place. "Lie down, the doctor gave strict orders for you to rest as much as possible until the healer can arrive. They aren't broken, but whomever you put up a fight against did one hell of a job on your ribs."

Your gaze fixated on the rabbit as she began to visually check you over once more with her large, rounded black eyes. She wasn't very tall, a bit below average at most, and held a very lithe figure. But despite that, she was donned with heavy, metal plated armor kept a sword neatly sheathed at her hip.

"Who.. are you?" You cringed as your voice was much rougher than expected, but who could blame you? After a night of screaming into the cold like your life depended on it, because it most certainly had, anyone's voice would have been a bit spent.

Without missing a beat, the rabbit shifter handed you a warm glass of water, which you greedily gulped down as she spoke.

"My name is Eve. I am a member of the king's guard here at the palace. I've been assigned as your personal guard, my lady." She bowed at the waist with a practiced precision, her fluffy ears tilting back so as to not land in your lap. "May I know the name of the lady I serve?"

"Hey, pause. Palace?" You full-stopped your assault on the glass of water and took your first good look at your surroundings. Sure enough, it was far from your typical healers hut or hostel.

The sheer size of the bed alone was the first thing you noticed. It was definitely made for something, or rather someone, that was far larger than you as the length of it easily extended another three or four feet past where your own legs ended. The tall, expertly carved banisters loomed over your head, supporting a canopy of heavy silks that seemed to trickle to the floor like water.

And the room

What a room it was. It was as massive as the bed with pristine, marble cut floors and high arching windows. Beautifully intricate moldings were placed all around, masterfully crafted to perfectly mirror one another. It was a chamber fit for a lady, no, a princess-- both of which you were not.

"I... don't think I'm supposed to be here." You murmured, eyes still trailing over the details of the walls that practically dripped with luxury.

Eve's ears tilted back once more, this time nervously as her tiny mouth curved into a frown. "Is the room not to your liking, my lady? I can ask to have you moved to something bigger--"

"No! Goodness no! This is more than enough! Too much, actually." You stumbled over yourself in your haste to not be fussed over to such a grand extent, which made Eve's expression falter from one of concern to confusion. "I'm not a noble," you clarified. "My name is (y/n), just (y/n)." Back home, impersonating a noble was enough to lose a limb if you were lucky-- your head if you weren't. Hopefully, if you cleared up the confusion quick enough, whoever misunderstood and brought you here would be more lenient with their anger.

"How could I dare call the future queen by her name?"

"......Pardon?" Surely you hadn't heard that right. "The what?" Was it.. the shock? Yes, the shock. It must have not worn off yet, that was all.

"The future Queen. I'm afraid it isn't my place to elaborate any further, lady (y/n), but I assure you once his Highness' meeting finishes up he will be here to speak with you himself."

So it wasn't the shock... and the king of beasts himself would be coming here, to you, like.. this?

You didn't need a mirror to know you were ill prepared to be meeting royalty. Your hair and skin still felt dirty and strange from your previous night's rather rough introduction to the ground, and your clothes... well, perhaps more accurately described as the lack thereof...

You felt your cheeks heat in a bit of embarrassment as you gently lifted the warm blankets to peer below. You still wore the underwear you'd had on before, identifiable by the stains of blood and dirt which had settled permanently in the crevices of the fabric, but what covered the rest of your torso and legs were bandages and dressings. Your cuts and bruises had been treated, rather professionally at that if the skill and quality of the supplies had anything to say about it.

But still, it was far from a dignified look.

As if reading your mind, your rabbit knight chimed in once more. "Don't worry, my lady, his Highness is an understanding and gentle ruler. He won't judge you for something like being wounded."

While it was sweet Eve was attempting to comfort you, you were less worried about appearing weak and more focused on the fact you were damn near naked-- though that was probably an idea that mattered a lot less to someone completely covered in fur... You didn't have the heart to tell her that though. Not when she was so eager to please and had that hopeful look in her eyes.

Not that you would have had the chance to anyway as, without so much as a knock, the two heavy doors to the room swung open.

Your hands moved in a flurry to gather the thick comforter up over your chest, your startled eyes locking with another's, and for a moment, the both of you paused.

He was tall, taller than any man you'd ever known, with shoulders just as broad that laid draped in a dark-stained cloak. It was still wet with rain and what you could guess was blood based off the thicker, red pigment that dripped from the bottom hem. Heavy, leathery wings sat poised behind him like two elegant, massive shields as his spear-like tail swung languidly between them. It was evident why everything here was the size it was now. He was massive. He was imposing. And he was horrifically attractive in a way no boy from your village could ever hope to compare.

He didn't need the crown or fine clothing to be identified. You could feel the authority he held in the air the moment he entered the room, and immediately upon seeing him, you understood the stories of your kingdom's best soldiers turning tail the second his taloned foot stepped onto the battle field.

Dipping your head as best you could, you quickly averted your flustered gaze and blushing face. "I greet the King of Beasts."

You'd expected a plethora of reactions. A gentle acceptance of your greeting, a roar of anger as to why someone as lowly as you laid within his palace, or even silence as he ignored you completely

What you hadn't expected was laughter. It was a deep rumble that could have shaken the cores of mountains if he'd leaned close enough.

"Is that what they call me nowadays? 'King of Beasts?' Of all things... you humans and your silly imaginations never fail to entertain."

You only felt your cheeks darken in humiliation as you lifted your head to stare at him with complete bafflement. Was that the wrong thing to say? Instead of answering your wordless query, he instead pulled up one of the oversized chairs to your beside.

"Eve," he called to your rabbit companion with a far calmer and level tone. "You're dismissed." Your guard, whom you'd momentarily forgotten in the chaos of it all, quickly scampered out and very suddenly it was just you and him left alone in the room together.

"Forgive my intrusion, this won't take long." His tone didn't flow like an apology, but more like an order or expectation that you would forgive him. It left a sour taste in your mouth and evidently an equally sour look on your face.

His eyes narrowed.

"Unless there's something you'd care to object?"

For a moment, a primal instinct surged in your gut beneath his gaze: Fear. He was the descendant of a long lived, powerful bloodline known for having the power to snuff out thousands of lives like yours. You were comparable to a meager speck of dust in his eyes, surely-- but an emotion that overtook your momentary fear was... anger.

No, it was rage. To be ripped from your home, stripped of your dignity-- your identity, thrown to the wolves, all to be mocked and disrespected and then be told to forgive them? Forgive him?

How far must you bow your head in order to save it? How much more humiliation did you have to endure for the sake some man deeming you worthy of survival?

Men in power had stripped enough away from you today, you'd be damned if you allowed this one to make you watch the last shred of self respect you had trickle through your fingers.

"I do actually. Quite a few actually."

The beast's narrowed eyes didn't ease, but he made no move to stop you.

"Well? Go on."

You took a breath, steeling the nerves that were pleading with you not to go through with what you were about to do. It was far too late to back down now. Instead, you hold his gaze.

"You laughed at my greeting, yet failed to introduce yourself. You came in without so much of a knock, not having a shred of thought towards my decency. You sent away the only person I knew, leaving yourself, a man, alone in a room with me, a woman, which shows you also have no concern for my dignity. Not to mention you're absolutely filthy covered in... who knows what. And to top it all off you don't ask me for forgive you but tell me to." You begin to falter, slowing your ramble as his slitted pupils begin to round out. "I think you're rude, and inconsiderate and..."

"And?" He urged, leaning forward a bit which only had you pressing further back into the plush pillows that had propped you up.

"And scary."

"Scary?"

At that, the towering dragon leaned back, the sturdy wood of the chair beneath him creaking with the shift in weight. "You look me in the eye, tell me what I can and can't do within my own home, in my own country, tell me all your objections about me... all while you think I'm scary?"

Unsure where this is going, you nod a bit lamely. What else could you have said?

"I see. Well. I suppose, in my haste, I have treated you a bit roughly for a lady."

"You...have." You affirmed hesitantly, your death grip on the blankets over your collarbones easing slightly.

"Then, for that, I extend you my sincerest apologies and ask that you find it in that fiery little heart to forgive me." You weren't sure if his tone was playful, mocking, or both... but it was a start.

"I'll think about forgiving you then."

"Then I'll put forth the effort to earn it. But for now, let's start from the beginning. I am King Jarkah Drak'in, ruler of the Etherian Empire. And you are?"

You had pondered giving him a false name before, but at this point there seemed little reason to it. "(Y/n). My name is (y/n)."

"(Y/n)." He repeated back to you, the gentle rumble in his voice almost bringing back that warmth to your cheeks. "I rarely hear human names so sweet on the tongue."

You tried and failed to formulate a reply to the compliment, your thoughts stuttering over themselves.

Seemingly able to see your internal struggle, Jarkah stood back up, signaling the end to your little exchange.

"As much as I'd prefer to talk further, I realize I should take your fragile circumstances into consideration, I'll postpone our conversation until I hear word that you've recovered." Was he... still mocking you? Or was that genuine consideration? It was difficult to read his reptilian features, and even more so when his back was turned to you. "Goodnight, (y/n)."

You floundered for a response but all you managed was a meager "Goodnight" as the door clicked shut softly behind him.

#lavenderslabyrinth #teratophillia #monster x reader #x reader #monster fucker #dragon x reader #king!dragon x reader #forced marriage trope #fantasy romance #rewrite #teratophillia x reader

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indouloureux · 2 years

Note

Hello! Would it be alright to request a shy, best friend reader thirsting over Eddie in a sleeveless crop top, if you’re interested? It’s been plaguing my thoughts all week long. I hope that you have a good rest of your day!

have a great day and thank you for requesting!! <3

you like eddie. he's your best friend. he's nice, and caring, and despite his roguish mien, he's quite the gentleman.

he's earned your respect. but holy fucking shit—

if a man, a hot man, particularly eddie munson, stood in front of you with cut-off sleeves with the band print of 'ramones' hanging proudly off his chest, with the shirt ending just on his midriff, would you still respect him and stop all those... discourteous and obscene thoughts that swim across your, what once was, innocent mind?

the line of hair beginning from his bellybutton that disappears down his low-rise jeans, his pudgy stomach with a scimitar tattooed on the side, a tramp stramp tattoo of dragon wings, the puppetmaster that goes rigid when his forearm flexes; his hair up in a messy bun with strands of hair curled on either side of his head that tickles his cheekbones.

and you, sitting on his couch, with the shortest shorts you can find and in a tanktop yourself, although covering your whole upper body, keep staring at him as he repaints the wall beside the door. eddie doesn't feel your ill-mannered stare yet, doesn't see that unadulterated filth going through your head like a film reel of him and you in rather insolent situations.

it's really not your fault that it's so fucking hot.

there's a plastic straw wedged between your teeth, sucking up the apple juice into your mouth, watching his back flex beneath his thin shirt when he reaches up. eddie grunts as he does this, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing, his voice low and guttural as he hums with the boombox.

you're startled when he suddenly drops the brush down to the bucket, the bristles sinking in the white paint. he plucks the cigarette off his mouth with his thumb and index, flicking it, ash charring the floor. eddie looks at you, withering patience weighing heavy on his eyebrows. "hey, sweetheart, still got some water?"

he's all sweaty, you realize, but his musk is insanely intoxicating still from afar. that damn drugstore cologne. "um. i drank it all. s-sorry. i can get you one though! hold on,"

you sit up. eddie carefully takes the juice box from you with a vacant hand, paint lightly smudged on your fingers. you feel your cheeks burn heavily at that swift but delightful feeling of the contact, eyes widening once your back's turned from him.

it's easy to pick up the cold pitcher of water from the fridge, but your mind has totally disregarded the predicament you'd face once you try to reach for the mugs stacked beside each other on the top shelf. you swallow heavily, still avoiding his gaze that lingers on the back of your head. you hope, you so hope, eddie would move his eyes down your ass that peeks through the bottom of your shorts.

scratching your ear, you set the pitcher down beside the sink before you stand on your tiptoes and open the cabinet. you manage to do it with success, although your fingertips barely graze the cold hardened clay of the white mug — which seems to be hand painted by eddie himself, with the hellfire club logo, and all that.

much to your dismay, he sees your struggles. he keeps the cigarette in his mouth before he walks over to you, lightly wiping off the streaks of white paint from his arms. you ignore him, you meant to. you can't bring yourself to face him.

"let me," he stands beside you, body hovering yours, an arm reaching up. his hand grazes yours again when he takes the mug, though he seems to be torturing you slowly from his never leaving gaze. it's like a scorching knife through ice, the keen tip digging through your solidified liquidness. doesn't stop until every part of you melts to a puddle beneath his feet.

you watch his hand envelope around the mug, slowly moving down. you flicker your eyes up to his, where he takes the pitcher and pours the water into the mug, somehow still with his eye on yours. eddie plucks his cigarette away, offering it to you with raised eyebrows that you gladly took 'coz, shit, do you need it right now.

he takes a sip of his water while you take a drag. then, "you alright?"

unclosing your cheeks, you take it out from your mouth and shy away from his eyes, staring at the red pick that dangles on top of his shirt. "yeah. why wouldn't i be?"

"you seem flustered,"

eddie sets the mug down, a hand on his hip and the other placed on the side of the nearby countertop. you laugh incredulously, scratching on your nose with the side of your thumb, cigarette hot as it hovers over your face,

"i'm fine," lie. you feel your skin slowly start loosening up. you feel your heart palpitate and the backs of your eyes heating up. he takes the smoke from you, eyes unconvinced. "seriously, i'm fine!"

dubious, his head dips so he's peering at you, fingers around the cigarette as he takes a drag. you look at his ring-less fingers, trace every tendril vein on the back of his hand and the bones beneath his pearlescent skin move; anywhere but his eyes, really. though, staring at his hands don't exactly help, either.

eddie tuts when he lets the smoke out his frowned mouth, his concern not quite sincere anymore. you can sense it shift into something like unconfident cognizance. he thinks your shyness is too conspicuous than it's supposed to be, and he wants to play with you.

"look at me,"

mellifluous, though marginally amatively daunting, the way he whispers the three words out with a hooded stare. his command compels you to give him your eyes and you do; you look at him hesitatingly, masking your anxiety with a confident façade. eddie admires its tenacity.

you look at him. directly at him. a song of oh shit oh shit oh shit finds itself stuck in your head. "what?"

"you've been staring at me," he knocks your chin playfully. "what's up sweetheart, huh? got something in my face, or what? i know i'm so handsome but, come on,"

you feel your heart deflate into a steady rhythm of calmness. you can't help but sigh out loud. "yeah. you've got shit on your face. full on fucking cockiness. motherfucker..."

eddie laughs. "what?! i'm just asking!" you roll your eyes, taking the cigarette from him. "(y/n), come on! i'm kidding!"

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things x reader

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beautifulloverwitch · 1 year

Text

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching collapse

Act I: Chapter six: A storm of green and black.

previous ///// next

Summary: Colours of green and black begin to descend upon the children of the house of the dragon.

_________________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 14k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of Death.

Taglist: @grungegrrrl

Masterlist

Laenor Velaryon sat on his knees for the twelfth time that day, sorrowfully joining the tides dance. Shoulders shaking with soft sobs, wallowing in his own grief and her committal had yet to happen. His state had worried all of whom surrounded him, all who had greeted him since the arrival of himself and his family to Driftmark were met with a lash of rage from the tormented man or were fortunate enough to be met by a cascade of hot tears and loud wails. Corlys had his son confined to his chambers, but he always found his way back towards the shore. Blankly staring off across the narrow sea, damning it for keeping her so far away, and envying it for the sea was where she was to return.

Daenerys kept close watch of her father from her mother’s bedchamber windows, she would always find him at the shore never anywhere else. She feared he would get a cold, or grow weak with hunger, the only thing he had bothered consuming these passing weeks were entire pitchers of wine.

Rhaenyra had kept the children away from him, for she wished to grant her husband time to grieve alone, and to protect her children from encountering the ugly face of grief so early. She had found it painful enough to explain the death of Harwin Strong to them, it grew agonising to explain the death of her beloved friend to her confused younglings.

The sound of shrill cries pulled Daenerys away from her watch, paying quick glances over her shoulder to her father before rushing to her brother’s crib. “Hello Joff,” she greeted softly, offering her finger to the babes flailing arms. Her attempts at hushing him proved fruitless “here, look!” she rushed to the couch where her silver compass was and brought it back to his cradle. Carefully swaying the compass above him with the chain, Joffrey cooed, his little hands reaching up to play with what he perceived was a toy. Daenerys rested against the wooden cradle, a small smile on her lips as she watched him giggle and play.

The chamber doors clicked open, and her exhausted mother came rushing in “Daenerys.”

“Hello mother,” she answered still swinging the compass about “he was crying.”

Rhaenyra hummed “how fortunate he is to have had you nearby,” she told, sitting upon the stool beside her “I hope he has not tired you.”

Daenerys shook her head “No, I quite enjoy being here.”

Rhaenyra frowned, for she had noticed the open window in her room “I’m sure this room offers the perfect place to keep watch of your father as well, hm?”

Daenerys tensed avoiding her mother’s worried gaze “I can keep watch of both.”

Rhaenyra tucked away a strand of her daughter’s hair “I do not doubt it, but I had allowed you to stay here with Joffrey for I had hoped him to offer you a distraction.”

Daenerys’s lip twisted to the side before she had asked “how are Jace and Luke?”

Rhaenyra sighed, fiddling with her fingers “Jace is… angry, and Luke, I could barely get the boy to sleep.”

“Do you need me to speak with them?” Daenerys offered; brows knitted together with worry.

An appreciative smile graced her mother’s features, Rhaenyra inching towards her daughter “No,” she answered, before cautiously speaking “I had hoped to speak with you instead, if that’s alright.”

Daenerys’s lips parted as she considered her mother’s request “is this about Ser Harwin?” she asked.

“Since I told you about his passing, you’ve barely spoken to me,” Rhaenyra told.

Her daughter’s lip quivered “I should not be mourning him,” she spoke “he was just a guard.”

Rhaenyra frowned in pity “Sweet girl, you know not grief to be saying that.”

“It feels as though I’ve seen it,” she spoke, wincing as she recalled her father’s cries “it needn’t be explained to me.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head to see her daughters face “grief, is not something to be explained my love, no matter how much you think you know it, it never ceases to surprise you with its ways.”

“How do you know that?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered about her daughter’s face “Time is often a great a teacher,” she rested her hand upon her daughter’s cheek “Now go get some rest it’s getting late,” she fixed her daughters hair “we’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Daenerys nodded before gently tugging away the compass from her baby brother. Rhaenyra went to pick Joffrey up as she heard him begin to whine, Daenerys stood up giving her brother and mother a quick kiss “good night.”

Rhaenyra clutched the back of her daughter’s head, restating “sleep,” she earned a sheepish nod from her daughter before planting a long kiss upon her head.

Daenerys clutched her compass close to her chest as she made her way out of the room, giving her mother a smile before disappearing behind the closed doors.

Rhaenyra’s smile quivered away rocking Joffrey in her arms, making her way to the window where she watched the shattered Laenor being hauled away from the shore for the hundredth time this week. As the sun fell upon the island, she glanced down to the bundle in her arms with a head of curly dark hair and her resolve had crumbled.

She collapsed into her chair, fighting the frown that danced on her lip as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Trying to soothe her crying boy and her own aching heart, pressing her face into the side of his head, humming a broken song to her son. Pressing her lips to where the lips of her love had last rested.

Her brown eyes danced about the ceiling above her bed, eyes sore for they had run dry, no tears left to shed. She sat up and looked across the room, to where her sister had rested, her back facing her.

“Baela?” she asked. Her voice hoarse and shaky

Baela had not answered her sister, but sleep was not the cause for her silence. Baela thought that if she had not answered her sister, then Rhaena would eventually succumb to sleep. For she would not need to bite back her sobs anymore.

Rhaena frowned, not appreciating her sisters silence, she had wished for a sound to fill this hollow room. Swinging her feet off the side of the bed, she made her way to the window, standing up upon the tip of her toes to check on her mother’s dragon. The mountainous Vhagar, sleeping on the shore, having seized her song of grief to her late rider. She sighed in relief before resting back on her feet. Looking back to her resting sister, she glanced to the chamber doors. Pursing her lips as she considered exploring beyond those doors without a reminder of her mothers absence.

She put on a dark dress over her nightgown before rushing to her sisters bed, tucking a lock of white hair behind Baelas ear and kissing the crown of her head “I’ll be right back,” she said before leaving the room.

Baela’s eyes flew open with worry as she heard the doors click shut.

Rhaena carefully shut the door behind her, cautious not to awaken her grandmother, whose room was across from theirs.

She moved about the halls, hoping to find something interesting, something distracting, but there was nothing she had not seen before. She had hoped that this quiet walk would make her forget for even a moment, but how could she, the only shoulder she had to lean on when her father paid her no mind was gone. She could no longer hear the sweet words her mother would tell her with her calming voice. She feared that a day would come where she would forget the presence of her mother, she dreaded such a thing.

In her daze of thought, she had not realised that her feet had guided her to the hall of nine, her grandsires prized accomplishments all in one room. She gasped as she saw an unfamiliar figure observing her grandsires possessions. Dropping to hide behind the railing of the stairs.

Daenerys flinched as she heard the sound, fearing that she must have overstayed her welcome. She pouted for she was only halfway through observing these treasures. To her dismay, she had to rush back to her room, fearing to have been caught by either her grandmother or grandsire. She had been too focused on returning to her chambers undetected to notice that she had been followed.

Carefully shutting her bedroom door, she let out a breath of relief. Stepping away from the door and hoping that her venture of the castle had exhausted her enough to get some sleep. Not even a few steps away from the door, she was startled by the sound of a slow knock. She knew it not to be her mother, for her mother had a confident knock, this one sounded unsure. Her brothers were sound asleep by now and her father, her father was busy knocking down bottles of wine.

She stared at her door a moment longer before answering after the third knock “who is it?” she asked warily.

Rhaena pondered her answer as she wondered who the girl possibly was, so she guessed “Daenerys?” she asked, “it’s me, your cousin, Rhaena.” She spoke. She was taken aback by how fast Daenerys had opened the door. She could not help but have her eyes widen in surprise as she got a good look at her. Stark opposites of one another, Daenerys had curly locks of unremarkable brown hair, while Rhaena had locks of ethereal silver white hair, Daenerys’s complexion was ivory, while Rhaena had a complexion of bronze. Eyes of purple stared into eyes brown, one held curiosity the other was painfully reminded of her obvious illegitimacy.

Daenerys blinked away her hurt and brought the kindest smile she could muster upon her face “Rhaena, how nice it is to see you today,” she said, her cheeks flushed pink “Tonight I mean, forgive me.”

Rhaena chuckled “it’s alright.”

Daenerys’s brows knitted together, feeling awkward in the current moment. She had not known what to say or do at the moment, she had always imagined the day she would meet her cousins, never had she imagined it to happen under such a saddening circumstance. Daenerys’s lips parted before she asked worriedly “should you not be asleep? Forgive me if I had wakened you, I had not meant to.”

Rhaena shook her head “you hadn’t, I could not find sleep.”

Daenerys’s eyes softened as she saw the slight wince that fell upon her cousin’s features, she thought for a moment before asking “do you, do you wish to come in?”

Rhaena glanced up in surprise before nodding, gracious for the offer. Daenerys was something new for her to distract herself with. Stepping inside she glanced about the room, eying the few trinkets on Daenerys’s bedside table. She turned to face Daenerys once the door had clicked shut, the two girls stood in silence a moment longer. Daenerys fiddling with her hands as they clasped together in front of her, a few words danced at the tip of her tongue, the urge to say, ‘I am so sorry for your loss,’ felt so wrong to her. Tying them down by biting upon the inside of her cheek before asking “would you… like to sit?” she offered, gesturing to the long chair at the foot of her bed.

Rhaena nodded in appreciation before making her way to the chair. Daenerys pulled the chair from the vanity and set it down in front of her.

The silence seemed to last a moment longer before Daenerys cut through it “might I ask when you arrived to Driftmark?”

Rhaena answered “weeks ago.”

Daenerys chuckled nervously “I hadn’t seen you.”

She answered, “Baela and I were in grandmother’s bed chambers,” looking away from the pitiful gaze she had grown to hate.

Daenerys nodded along, trying to seem oblivious of the painful reminder she had accidentally given her. She looked down ashamedly for what she had done, tugging at her ear as she awaited her to speak instead of risking another regretful interaction.

“Do you always wander around places?” Rhaena asked curiously.

Daenerys looked up, surprise replaced with bashfulness “it’s a tendency,” she admitted “many would say a dangerous one.”

“How so?” Rhaena asked.

Daenerys blinked for a moment, surprised by the interest of her cousin, who at the moment she would have expected to have been mourning a terrible loss. “Um, I often wandered close to the dragon caves.”

“At Dragonstone?” an eager Rhaena asked “there are unclaimed dragons there?!”

Daenerys raised her hands, gesturing for her cousin to quiet down “yes!” she whispered excitedly “but they are terribly dangerous!”

“How many are there?” Rhaena asked. Inching closer to her cousin, hands clenched tightly with excitement.

“I think four?” Daenerys answered, “Wild they all are, spare for Vermithor, but none have attempted to go near him.”

“Have you seen him?” she asked again, question after question, after question she threw at her cousin.

Daenerys grinned as she began to describe “Haven’t seen him, BUT, I’ve heard accounts of his appearance.”

Her face contorted with each exaggerated expression as she described the bronze fury, the once mount of the old king Jaehaerys, scaly skin of bronze and great wings a shade of tan. Rhaena’s eyes had practically glowed with bewilderment. Every overwhelming thought was set aside as her mind venturing far as she pictured the magnificent beast.

Daenerys eyes widened as she recognised this interest “you don’t have a dragon either do you?” she chuckled softly as she saw her cousins face flush red “I hadn’t known there was anyone besides Aemond and I.”

“There’s someone else?” Rhaena asked.

Daenerys hummed in answer “we’re few but in the eyes of our house, we are enough,” she said with a soft chuckle.

Rhaena’s lips twisted to the side before she asked, “have you ever tried to claim a dragon?”

Daenerys shook her head “I’ve learned there’s no worth claiming a dragon if I die trying,” she told “Mother has always told be to be patient.”

Rhaena giggled, a sorrow mask of joy dancing across her face as she reminisced “mother would tell me the same thing,” she spoke “she would tell me that she hadn’t claimed a dragon until she was fifteen,” her lip began to quiver “and because of that she became the rider of the largest dragon in the world,” her hands clasped upon her knees as her face contorted with anguish “she was the rider of the largest dragon in the world.”

Daenerys looked at her a moment longer, standing up and slowly sitting beside Rhaena, granting her the time to push her away. Rhaena sniffled “I fear the day the world will forget her achievement,” she shook her head, scared of the feeling that once again wrapped its grimy tendril about her “I fear forgetting her.”

“Rhaena we must go back to our room,” a voice came from the door, the two girls glanced up to find the red-faced Baela standing at the door, hands clenched into fists at her side, and cheeks shining with tears.

Rhaena glanced back to the ground “you seem to have found sleep easily,” she said, “did father help you move on?”

Baela shook her head “no, he didn’t, I was simply tired.”

Rhaena frowned in envy “Father must be faring better than us, had I only been like him.”

Baela frowned as she heard her sisters wishes, making her way to her sister’s side as she spoke “why would you ever want that?”

“He doesn’t love,” she spoke plainly, shoulders beginning to sway “he doesn’t hurt.”

Daenerys pushed her hand closer to the sobbing Rhaena, allowing Rhaena the decision of whether she could hold her hand in comfort or not “I do not know much about the ugly face of loss,” Daenerys admitted mindfully “but, I do know that the grief it causes, keeps their memory alive,” she spoke, granting Rhaena and Baela a sheepish smile as they turned to look at her “the hurt of your grief, forever reminds you of her, that way you will never forget,” she rested her hand atop of Rhaena’s, whose eyes reflected the first light of sunrise seeping into Daenerys’s bedchambers “to not love, is to not grieve, yes, but to not love is to forget,” she assured, her smile wavering as she saw Rhaena’s face begin to contort once more “and I, having not met your mother, can tell by how much you love her, and that she was a wonderful woman and the world will feel her absence through you.”

Rhaena’s shoulders began to shake with the sobs that she could no longer hold within her chest. Relieved to hear such words of assurance, she appreciated her grandmothers comforting touch, and dejected by her distant father, she knew not how to deal with the emotions of loss, she did not expect such guidance to come from her elder cousin. She leapt into her, wrapping her arms tightly around the startled Daenerys. sobbing into her shoulder. Daenerys carefully wrapped her arms tightly around the grieving Rhaena.

Baela was wary of her cousin; this was the first time they had ever met but appreciated the comfort she had so willingly offered her sister.

The Velaryon banner stood tall above the stone coffin of Laena Velaryon which laid before the mourners who gathered to bid her the respects she so deserved. The stoney cove carved by the waves crashing against it, waves awaiting to embrace the carved coffin of Laena Velaryon. The stone immortalising the expression she so commonly had on her features, calm and content.

Vaemond Velaryon, clad in black and pastors gold, recited words of farewell to his niece, watching on with controlled sorrow as they readied her to return to the sea.

“We join today at the Seat of the sea,” he announced in Valyrian to those in attendance, bowing their heads to words they had not understood “to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon, to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King.”

The Sea Snakes head hung low, unbothered by the ache in his neck as his eyes danced about the ground beneath his daughter’s coffin. For every time he caught a glance of it, he would be reminded of his guilt, and how he should have never granted his daughters hand to the reckless Daemon. He looks to his wife, who held a solemn face as she looked on, holding her beloved granddaughter Baela close.

“Where he will guard her for all the days to come, as she sets to the sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore,” Vaemond spoke, his eyes slowly moving over to Rhaenyra and her children. She pulls her boys closer to her as she feels herself shrink beneath the prying gaze of all who understood his words “Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood,” Vaemond stares on with disgust at Rhaenyra, his words may have been foreign to many in attendance but his eyes spoke a language too clear “Salt courses through Velaryon blood, ours runs thick, ours runs true, and ours must never thin,” words spoken with bitter outrage laced within them.

Daenerys wrapped her arms tighter around her father’s shaking one, glancing to her mother worriedly before looking back to Vaemond. Trying to mask her disdain for him, at an occasion like this, legitimacy should have been a trivial matter.

Viserys frowned as he heard the man’s words, as unspecific as they were, it was of no challenge to understand the meaning behind them. He thought himself free of such insinuations on a day like this, how wrong he was. He sent an indiscernible glance to Rhaenyra; she could not make of it how he felt in the moment. She only knew she had not enjoyed the look.

Everyone was startled by an unexpected sound, one of which was not made to be found at a place like this. It had made everyone lift their head and turn to look at the source. Daemon Targaryen had his head hanging low, shoulders not shaking with sobs, but with laughter. What was funny, only he could have possibly known, but his wife’s funeral was no laughing manner. His action drew away from Rhaenyra, and all the prying and judging eyes were now upon him, but he was terribly unbothered by them.

Daenerys grimaced at the man, disgusted by his actions. She already had concluded her opinion of him from all she had heard of him before. Now it had only solidified, he was a cruel man, with no regard for even the woman that bared his kin.

“My gentle niece,” Vaemond spoke, away was his disgust and returned his sorrow “May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart,” tossing salt upon her moving coffin as he spoke his words “from the sea we came, to the sea we shall return.”

Laenors lips parted as he watched his sisters coffin slowly be pushed off the edge. Even with the weeks he had before the committal to accept the death of his dear sister, had not been enough. For in the very moment, it slowly began to dawn upon him, it was as though the tides had taunted him with a splash of their cold waters as they engulfed Laena Velaryon to their depths.

Daenerys glassy eyes looked away from the now vacant edge and up to her quiet father, who shivered against the cold air. She laced her small hand in his, squeezing it as tightly as she could and pressing herself up against his side, a feeble attempt at granting her distant father whatever warmth she could give to his cold and empty body. For as present as his body may have been his mind had long departed it.

After the committal, all had gathered to the courtyard outside of Hightide, for a solemn gathering. The many seemed to have moved on, engaging in chatter with one another, their masks of condolence only returning when they faced the daughters of Laena who were left alone at the far side of the courtyard, sat together at a bench. Rhaena’s head bowed down and Baela sending strange looks to all the mourners that frowned and pouted in pity for the two girls.

Laenor returned to the shore, followed closely by his watchful daughter, tailing him the entire day. Not bothering to greet the king and his family once they had arrived to Driftmark. She watched from the dry sand as her father swayed with the tides once again, she was thankful that they were much calmer than they were the weeks prior.

Corlys had taken to speaking with Lucerys, a confused look on the boy’s face as his grandsire spoke to him of all the duties the boy would be inheriting decades from now. As confused as Lucerys was, he discarded his toy as he patiently listened to his grandsire speaking to him.

The Rogue prince loomed at the edge of the courtyard with an empty cup in hand, not hiding his grimace of disdain as nobles dared to approach him with their condolence. He was both large yet so small, it was difficult to not notice him, but it was just as difficult to deny that something had changed within him. A change unrecognisable to even his brother.

Alicent could not find ease, squirming with guilt with every stare that lingered too long upon her, a grimy feeling of cold remorse. Clasping her hand tightly around her chalice as she stared ahead of herself, she was fortunate enough to have the loyal Ser Criston to be the eyes that kept watch behind her.

“Lyonel Strong’s son has been staring at you since we arrived your grace,” he told, sending a sneer towards the man “unabashedly.”

Alicent looked over her shoulder, earning herself a courteous nod from the odd man, and that was enough for a cold shiver to run through her. How she hated this alliance between them, one of which she still questions if she had willingly entered.

A shuddered breath had escaped her before she assured him “it is only a look of pride Ser Criston, Larys is the new lord of Harrenhaal.”

Rhaenyra abandoned the wine table to search for her scattered children and husband, her curious gaze had landed upon Daemon. For a second longer than it should have by Alicents standards, she had not hidden her disgust as she stared at Rhaenyra.

Tearing her eyes away from him she turned to her left and saw her son Jacaerys stood alone at the far edge of the courtyard. She rushed to him, a few nobles bowing their head to the heir, others sending her odd looks as she brushed past them all.

She rested her hand on his shoulder as she asked “have you seen your father?” she glanced about the courtyard, her eyes landing on the daughters of Laena Velaryon. She was too distracted worrying for them she had not noticed her son’s reluctance in answering her question.

She brushed his hair away from his face as she told “your little cousins have lost their mother, they could use a kind word.”

Jacaerys glanced to the two girls before speaking, too bluntly for his mother’s comfort “I have an equal claim to sympathy-.”

“Jace,” she spoke, fearful that any had heard her sons words.

“We should be at Harrenhaal mourning Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin,” he stated.

She grasped his hand in her own as she firmly spoke “it would not be appropriate,” she knelt down to him as she saw him unconvinced “the Velaryons are our kin and the Strong’s are not,” she affirmed again “do you understand?” He gave her a hesitant nod before making his way to Rhaena and Baela.

Helaena knelt beside a table, where her wandering eyes had landed upon a beady eyed crawling spider. she reached out her gentle hand towards it, offering the naïve yet dangerous spider a new plane to crawl upon “hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread,” her other hand reached for the shell beside her “hand turns loom…”

Aegon grimaced in disgust “we have nothing in common.”

Aemond gave an obvious reminder “she’s our sister.”

“You marry her then,” Aegon told, taking another swig from his cup.

Aemond looked to his sister “I would perform my duties, if mother had only betrothed us,” he stated.

Aegon scoffed, longing for such a prospect “if only.”

“it would strengthen the family, keep our Valyrian blood pure,” he explained to his disinterested brother.

Aegon had hoped to state his disdain for the situation he was forced into a bit plainly to his younger brother “she’s an idiot.”

Aemond frowned “she’s your future queen-,” his breath had hitched as he saw Daenerys return to the courtyard from the shore.

Aegon frowned and followed his brothers gaze, smirking as he saw what had caught the attention of his awkward brother “we actually do have one thing in common,” he told, reaching for a cup from one of the wenches, grinning at her as she walked away before leaning down to tell his brother “we all fancy creatures with very long legs,” he stepped away from his brother and clapped his hands “Wench! Another!”

Aemond frowned as he spoke disappointedly “Aegon…” he glanced back towards where Daenerys had been and to his dismay she was no where to be seen. His eyes had wandered until they had landed on Jacaerys, how terribly hesitant he was as he pondered approaching the boy. Warily making his way too him, he bowed his head before peering up at him, making an attempt at offering the boy a comforting smile. His actions only seemed to earn him a grimace from Jacaerys, who had not the idea what Aemond imagined this exchange to look like.

“Hand turns loom; spool of green… spool of black… spool of red,” Helaena muttered as she watched the spider crawl into the shell in her other hand, her gentleness went away once she had it in her grasp and clasped her hand shut over the shell.

Daenerys reluctantly ascended back up to the courtyard, mind still occupied by her dear father. She could not deny she had been avoiding the yard for most of the day. a moment to herself would have been something she would have greatly favoured, to continue her lonely ventures and to sit in her own thoughts.

Her mind since the beginning of the committal had been plagued by thoughts of her cousins, her father, her brothers, her mother, and Ser Harwin, not a moment to consider her own troubles. She feared they may suffocate her in her sleep. Sighing she pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders, as she looked out across the sea. The poor girl had not realised her fathers soothing habit had made its way to her as she swayed with the wind.

“Dany!” a familiar voice had called out, to her delight it had belonged to Aemond. Forgetting how he was cast aside by her brother only moments ago, for if this was how his sympathies would be met by the boy, he would leave him to wallow alone.

She turned to face him, a soft smile found its way on her lips as she saw a face unblemished by a frown “Aemond…” she spoke.

He stopped before her, thankful that she had not ignored him “I had been looking for you, I had not seen you since we arrived.”

She winced as she recalled, she had not been a part of the greeting party at the king’s ship “I’m sorry, I have been far too focused keeping watch of father that I had not been able to greet you.”

There was a twitch of a frown before his face before he stuttered out his question “where might he be?”

“Alone, angry,” she described “grieving,” her jaw clenched as she looked to the ground hopelessly “the stranger has showed his face three times too many this year.”

He nodded in tentative agreement “we must not let the strangers doing cripple us.”

She shook her head “you sound so sure, though I don’t think they’ve ever paid you any mind,” she spoke before rushing to correct her bluntness “though I hope they don’t.”

He hummed “you speak as though he has already visited you.”

She looked to Aemond, her eyes fluttering away in the wind “they haven’t, but they’ve passed too close to me, I fear I may be next, and I fear whatever name I need remember after their doing,” she chuckled shaking her head at her words “Forgive me Aemond, for these weeks have been long, and I’ve been without a moment to myself to ponder this years… tribulations,” that word seemed wrong on her tongue, as even it was not a fitting way to describe. She reached to tug at her ear, but Aemond, as nervous as he was at extending such a gesture, was quick to rest his hand atop of hers. It had been long since they have been in the others presence, the others understanding or will to understand. How he hated that she had left and how he knew she took no pleasure in this departure either, something about her had dimmed, for as bright as her lilac eyes had shone before the sun, her own light had been dampened.

He squeezed her hand as he pondered away to reignite that light once more, not noticing the bashful look on Daenerys’s face as she stared at their joined hands. His face brightened with realization as he told her “Come with me, I’ve something you must see.” He had not waited an answer as he pulled her along with him.

Alicents eyes followed the two as they moved across the courtyard together. Suspicious of Daenerys as she made her way back into the tight fold of her family, one of which Alicent had thought herself fortunate enough to have had the girl driven away from without having to intervene. Ottos words never seemed to escape her mind, they only echoed louder as she saw her once again.

Viserys sent a glance over his shoulder to his dear brother. pondering to himself whether or not he should approach him, but this was a better moment than ever the king had believed. They both knew a similar loss, they may both have the ability to land on similar grounds. Standing up from his chair, he marched to his brother with a mask of sympathy and hope across his face.

“Your girls are the very image of their mother,” he spoke fondly “a comfort and of anguish as I well remember.”

Daemon looked over his brother, brazenly grimacing in disgust before the king, whose hands were covered with leather gloves, his face so dry it cracked and flaked, hues of red and purple trailing up his neck, and a slight stumble in his step.

“The gods can be cruel,” Viserys told, assuring his brother that no guilt lied upon him.

Daemon scoffed at the irony “it seems they have been especially cruel to you,” he pitied.

Viserys chuckled “yes,” he agreed. Looking out to the sea, missing the look hint of worry on Daemons face as he looked over Viserys’s ill stature once more.

Looming amongst the crowd Rhaenyra was as she watched from afar her uncle and father’s exchange. She was hopeful for her uncle to pay a glance her way as she stood plainly before him and not behind the chatting nobles.

“You should return with us to kings landing,” the king hopefully suggested, his face showed how sure he was that his brother would accept such an offer “it’s time that you came home.”

“Pentos is my home, and that of my children,” no matter how hard he thought he had tried, his face had shown that he had not believed the words that left his mouth.

Viserys was smart enough to have seen his brother’s uncertainty “Daemon… I know we’ve had our differences, but let them pass with the years,” he sighed, desperate to get his brother to stay, to mend at least some of the broken bonds of his family “there’s a place for you in my court, if that’s something you should need.”

Had he been offered this a decade ago he would have accepted, but this was not a Daemon familiar to Viserys. To his surprise, Daemon had spurned him “I need… nothing.”

The two locked eyes a moment longer, but Daemon could not spend a second longer in the suffocating air of pity that he could not escape. He stormed past his brother and the worried Rhaenyra, to his dismay only to be stopped by the gloating Otto “sorry for your loss, my prince.”

Daemon stared at the man angered by his gall “no matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal,” he told before descending the stairs, past the drunken Aegon and down towards the shore.

Rhaenyra glanced about the crowd, searching for any prying eyes but thankful for none. She rushed towards her two sons, wanting to send them off before she departed in search for her uncle “where’s your sister?” she asked Jace.

He shrugged “she may still be with father.”

“Find her, and go to bed,” she commanded.

“But, mother-.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder and restated “go to bed,” she patted Luke’s shoulder, and left for the shore. The eyes of Otto following her as she disappeared the same place her uncle just had.

As Viserys arose from his seat, the path cleared before him, groaning tiredly as he walked past them all and stopped before his wife, Alicent. Not bothering to face her as he spoke over his shoulder “I’m going to bed now, Aemma.”

Alicent froze, too startled to correct him, for the first time she was unbothered by the stares they had received by the nobles who had heard his misnaming of her. She was far too focused on the name.

Lord Westerling slyly corrected the king “shall I see to queen Alicent, your grace?”

Viserys looked up at her, no shame in his eyes for his mistake, but a hint of disappointment for it having been truly Alicent and not Aemma “No, Ser Harrold,” he told and continued his way, without a goodnight exchanged with his wife, Alicent.

“You have the nights watch, Ser Criston,” Harrold told as he followed the king.

Snapping away from his burning glare towards the king “Lord Commander.”

Alicent scoffed in disbelief, queen Alicent scoffed. He calls her Aemma after she had granted him the sons Aemma never could, he calls her Aemma after she had bared him at his worst, he speaks her name with a love laced within them, a love the name Alicent never knew. How fucking unbelievable.

Aemond grinned as he looked at the dunes that lined the shore, resting their hands together on the railing as he glanced to her joyfully.

She frowned “what is it?”

He shook his head before pointing towards the sandy hills further away “look closely.”

She rolled her eyes before narrowing them at the dune lines She was startled when one of them seemed to have moved, for a moment she feared the ground would begin to shake but no it hadn’t “it’s her…”

“Magnificent, is she not?” he admired.

Her lips parted as she raked her mind for the right words “I suppose-, gods, she’s much bigger than said in the book.”

He chuckled “of course she would be!” he proclaimed before he had said “I plan to get a closer look.”

His words had snapped Daenerys from her awe “why would you want that?”

He looked back at her, surprised by the look of disbelief on her face “why, I intend to claim her, of course,” there was another look on her face that he had not seen before, nor could he to discern whether it was good or bad “I only wished to show her to you, I am the elder of the both of us so it is only fair I have a greater right than you do.”

She stared at him a moment longer, awaiting him to tell her that this was all a jest, he had not. She glanced to her grieving cousins, thankful that her grandmother had emerged to comfort them. stepping closer to Aemond as she chided “Have you gone mad?”

He frowned at her words “pardon?”

“Aemond- she’s,” she sighed, as she attempted to find the right words “Many still mourn the memory of Laena, to claim her dragon would be brash of you and disrespectful,” she explained pointedly, for she could not believe she needed to explain such a simple thing to Aemond.

She looked at him with a scathing stare, irked by how he would not meet her gaze as he kept his focus on the dragon. She sighed “let us say you care not for their grief, and you go and try to claim Vhagar, the mount of the woman who died,” she reminded “you go to her, during her sorrow and attempt to claim her, let us say that happens, and she instead spurns you,” he had finally turned to look at her, frowning at such a prospect for he was sure that he would be able to claim the she-dragon “do you think she’ll let you go?”

“I-.”

“She won’t!” she answered for him “she will leave nothing for us to find and leave only a name to remember,” she continued, hands clenched at her sides “have you even considered that, or has your ambition blinded you?”

“Daenerys that won’t happen.”

“I never said it will, I said it could and that should be enough of a reason for you to set aside such a desire,” she told, grasping his arm as she advised “no dragon is worth a life.”

With a scoff and roll of his eye he told “as though any would care for mine.”

Her brows furrowed “There may be few but there are enough,” she reached for his hand, for he had not met her gaze once again “Please Aemond, I’ve enough names to remember this year, and I am not ready to see the strangers doing again yet.”

He looked down to their hands, twisting his lips as he contemplated, before speaking to her “If it will grant you comfort, I won’t do it.”

She was uncertain of his honesty, but she knew him to be smarter than to risk his life.

Jacaerys eyes widened as he saw his sister with Aemond, frowning in dismay at the sight of their joined hands “Dany!” he angrily called out.

“Yes Jace?” she asked as she turned to him.

“Mother told us to go to bed!” he told, glancing to the displeased Aemond “now!”

Daenerys frowned, it was still early, why would she send them to bed so soon “I’ll be right there!” she gave a wary look to Aemond as she turned to look at him once more time “I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ve many stories to tell about Dragonstone.”

He nodded happily “I’ll see you then, now go get some sleep,” he dismissed, his acceptance of her leaving once again was surprising to her. he would often spend a time trying to convince her to stay, but today, he seemed so eager for her to leave.

She smiled softly at him “don’t do anything your brother would do,” she told before walking away and past Jacaerys. Her brother sent a final cautioning glare to Aemond before turning to follow her.

As the moon had taken its place above Hightide, the courtyard had begun to empty, to Aemonds fortune. The guards had begun their nights watch, but Otto had remained. Aemond needed no eyes to catch him in his plan so he made his way to his grandsire.

“Is it not time for you to retire to your chambers grandsire, tis getting late,” he told as he stepped to him.

Otto looked to his grandson with surprise before he told “I find myself not needing it this day, there is much I need to attend to, and sleep is but a trivial matter to be at the moment.”

Aemond hummed, raking his mind for a way to send his grandsire away. He glanced over to the stairs, his escape route, where his brother had drunkenly passed out.

“I do believe there is a matter worth your time,” he told.

Otto frowned “what would that be?”

“Aegon has drunk himself to sleep on the stairs, not the sight you would want to see of a future king,” he told nonchalantly, not paying any mind to the red-faced Otto.

Otto looked about for any unwanted ears before growling out “take me to him, now boy.”

Aemond guided him to where his brother was watching as Aegon was kicked awake and practically dragged away from the courtyard, whining and groaning.

The sound of a bellowing croon echoed in the night sky, above the clouds. Aemond turned his eyes to the sky searching for the source, finding its song to be a call for him, to claim what was his, to rid himself of his plight. For one last time he looked around himself, thankful to see that none had paid him any mind before descending to the shore, in reckless search of his right.

Within the hall of nine, Rhaenys had found herself reading between the lines of her daughters letter for the hundredth time that day.

“She wanted to come home,” she told her pacing husband, carefully discarding the letter upon her lap “and he denied her.”

Corlys sighed “Daemon did what he thought best.”

She scoffed at her husband’s characterization of her cousin “Daemon only ever does what is best for Daemon,” her anger began to brew as she took off her rings “Laena needed our Maesters.”

Corlys halted in his tracks, balling his fists as he stared at the ground, still denying that his daughters death was caused by anything but the gods will “the surgeons in Pentos are as Well-trained as our Maesters,” he approached his now silent wife, who rested her head against back of her chair, blankly staring ahead of herself “you are look to place blame for an act of the gods.”

“Mayhaps the gods have scorned us,” she told, clattering her last ring on the table “for our insatiable pride.”

Her husband stared at her with disbelief “the crown was yours, until those fools at the great council plucked it from your head.”

She shook her head at his words, knowing it was not her dignity that he wished to avenge.

“is it such a terrible thing for your husband to wish to win it back?” he spoke.

She huffed, for it was the hundredth time he had proclaimed his anger for her spurning “tonight of all nights, let us lay aside this falsehood,” she told, staring at him as she spoke and not at the burning flames of the fireplace that she glared at with hate “it is not justice for your wife that drives you, it is your own ambition, Tis’ desire for the throne, if not for yourself, then for the scions of your house, I gave up the idea of wearing a crown a generation ago, it is you, lord husband, who refuses to abandon this pursuit, even now, at the cost of our children!” she spoke with a ferocity and anguish.

His face softened at his wifes words, fearing she had not understood the meaning of his desires. He sat beside her as he told “what is this brief mortal life… if not the pursuit of legacy?”

She had not looked at him as she spoke “legacy may be why you live your life, Corlys,” she accused with no argument from her husband who knew that to be true.

He rested back against his chair, finding no will to argue with her. she turned to look at him as she addressed an important matter, one detrimental to his pursuit for legacy “I want Driftmark to pass through Laena’s line to Baela, to true Velaryon blood,” she told, unbothered by the bewildered stare of her husband “declare it now, while all are gathered, and we will say that is how we will honour Laena’s memory.”

“And disinherit our son?” he asked, finding such a decision unappealing.

She reminded him of the benefit of the match he had fought for “he will be the King Consort; his daughter will one day sit the iron throne.”

He frowned in disbelief “you would have me cast an even darker shadow over those little children than already exists.”

She rolled her eyes at his obscurity “we are alone here husband, you can speak the plain truth as we both know it:” she told but was only met of a silence from the stubborn man “Rhaenyra’s children are not of your blood,” he hand gently clasped his own as she saw the truth dawn upon his face “But Laena’s are, they are her legacy.”

Corlys stared at the flames, a silent cry of sorry sounding from his mind to his daughter, as he looked on the flames that had robbed her from him. Before spitting on her memory and legacy for his ambition, his words struggled to pass his lips “history does not remember blood, it remembers names.”

He snatched his hand away from Rhaenys and left to their bedchambers, leaving her to her own anger and disbelief at her husbands’ willingness to turn a blind eye.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walked the shore together, exchanging recollection of their years apart. Their doings hidden by the blanket of night. Daemon was far eager to learn of her marriage to Laenor and how it had faired with the years.

“Laenor has been restless for years,” she told Daemon, regretfully, she had hoped for more from him but with his state now she knew the plain truth “but now, he will be useless, or worse,” she winced as she imagined her daughters outrage at her choice of words, across her eyes had flashed the faces of her beloved children “I know better than anyone that our marriage is a farce, but I at least make the effort to maintain appearances.”

“You have more to lose,” Daemon evidently told.

She scoffed “Yes, well, that has been my lot since my father’s named me heir.”

“Four children, I thought Laenor eager when I first heard,” he jested.

She chuckled and shook her head “No”

“Not even the plum eyed marvel?” he asked.

She shook her head once more, defending Laenor to the extent she believed she could “we did try, to conceive a child, we- performed a duty as best we could, but to no avail,” she sent a wary glance to her uncle before assuring to him “there was no joy in it, I found that elsewhere.”

Daemon grinned as he saw the loving smile on Rhaenyra’s face.

“It felt good to be desired,” she told bashfully as she reminisced, earning her a hum of understanding from her uncle.

“I understand Ser Harwin was quite…” he noticed the warning look from Rhaenyra as he chose his word carefully “devoted to you.”

She frowned sorrowfully before she answered “yes, he was, and I trusted him,” she shook her head as she blamed herself, wishing she had exacted her powers upon him “I should have forbidden Ser Harwin from returning to the riverlands, Harren’s curse is said to be as strong now as it was after the Conquest-.”

“That’s a ghost story,” Daemon interrupted with a scowl “one Ser Otto and the Queen would gladly exploit.”

Her eyes fluttered with surprise as she struggled to imagine such a thing “I do not believe Alicent capable of cold murder.”

“Each of us is capable of depravity, and more than you would believe,” he explained to his no longer a nave niece.

She pondered his words a moment before bluntly stating “I believe it of you.”

“If you’re accusing me of some depravity, you’ll need to be more specific,” he told, shockingly offended by her depiction of him.

She halted in her tracks and turned to face him “I’ve been alone, you abandoned me.”

“I spared you,” he corrected “you were a child.”

“Yes, Yes I was a child and look at what my life became without you,” she told, dejected, and disparaged, the only shoulder she ever had to rely on, had escaped her while the other died because of her, she lifted her arms up in defeat as she turned away “Droll tragedy.”

He grasped her arm and spun her to face him “and I wonder what you think of mine by comparison.”

She scoffed “I know little of it,” her face softened as she saw the hurt crinkling his brow “did you love her?”

“We were happy enough,” he told.

She hummed finding it amusing in comparison to her own union “well, that in itself is a great achievement,” she bowed her head ashamedly, realising her neglect of understanding his plight “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assured, before reminding her of her own trouble “I am at least allowed to mourn my losses.”

Her head shook in dismay of her situation and lip trembled. How the gods have dealt her a terrible hand, and how they had blessed her by presenting her their best card. She warily looked up at the still Daemon. Her hand brushing up his arm and resting upon his chest. Her movements were stiff and unsure, for as mature as she had grown to become, she still had not known how to approach her indiscernible uncle.

He glanced down to her wandering hand as it traced his jaw, how right it had felt, he mustered as much resolve as he could, and that was only enough to speak her name with reluctant warning “Rhaenyra…”

She assured him softly, eyes locked on his trembling lips “I am no longer a child.”

Her lips pressed stiff against his own, they had not melded with passion, instead their lips had only pressed together to feel the others softness, the others presence. Their hands beginning to roam and grasp at what they could, cradling the others face as though it would disappear at any moment. Fearing to be torn apart once more by their duty, unwilling to allow their love to succumb to it once again.

As their lips parted, Daemon looked at her longingly while she stared at him with desperation, as though stranded on a sinking ship and he was her only salvation “I want you.”

He looked at her with compassion in his blue eyes, drawing her into his comfort once more. No longer had they needed to remember the others touch as their lips clashed together with such ardour. For the first time, Rhaenyra had felt the desire she so longed to feel again. To be desired again, such an addicting feeling it was.

Aemond was too blindly guided by his ambition to notice how far he had ventured from Hightide. Running through the tall grass, guided by the sound of Vhagars thunderous heaving breath, the stronger the ground had seemed to shake, the more he knew he had grown closer to his prize.

He threw himself to the ground as he finally saw her, the boy had nearly mistaken her for a hill had he not checked again. Her skin was a darkened bronze, hues of a moss green scattered along her aged and shrivelled body. Torso covered with the broken straps of old saddles, scars of tribute to the thousand wars she had fought.

Aemond thought to himself ‘what dragon could be a more suitable mount for myself?’ he spoke.

The boy could not deny his fear as he glanced behind him, realising how far he was from hightide, “fuck,” he muttered.

He slowly descended down the hill, and towards the monstrous Vhagar, eying the saddle on her back, trying to gather the will to step any closer to her. with quiet steps he approached the netting on her neck, hoping to climb up to her saddle without waking her. How he had failed, for the moment he had grasped the rope, her eyes had shot open.

He rushed away from the netting and stood before her stiffly as she craned her neck to see who had dared intrude upon her slumber. She gave him a look of warning before turning away from him, hoping that her piercing glare was enough to set him away before resting her head against the sand once again.

Aemond was too foolish to accept getting away with just a warning. So he went to reach for the netting once again.

As large as Vhagar was, she did not lack speed, she turned her head to face the boy again, and she was not one to warn twice. Her mouth came open and an orange glow omitted from the back of her gullet.

Aemond raised his hand up towards the dragon shouting out “Dohearas, Vhagar! Lykiri!”

Vhagar was surprised by the boy’s command, and to his surprise, she obeyed. Her mouth came shut and she curiously leaned her head towards him, her bright hazel eyes followed the boy. Thinking he earned himself permission enough to ascend upon her saddle. It was as though dragon smiled with amusement at his fearlessness.

He situated himself comfortably upon her saddle, taking grasp of her ropes, he felt unsure for he knew not how one was supposed to sit upon a dragon, but he was foolish enough to think books were all he needed in order to learn how.

Aemond looked about the saddle one last time before commanding the dragon “Soves!”

She stared at him, bewildered by the command at first, but this was not the first time she had found herself with a different rider.

“Dohearas Vhagar! Soves-.”

He was interrupted by the sound of her feet falling flat again the ground, as she began to arise and stretch from her slumber. Aemond would not have been so alarmed had the sounds not been so frightening, for with every movement Vhagar had made, it was as though a crack of thunder had sounded.

Vhagar yawned and growled as she shook away the sand and birds on her body. She nearly threw Aemond off her back, had she not been so mountainous, he would not have feared such a fall. He gripped tightly on the handles, yet even that may not have been enough as Vhagar readied herself for a steep rise and even steeper fall. Aemond holding on by her reigns as his legs flailed about in the air.

He groaned and mustered all his strength to pull himself up upon the saddle securely. Terror splashing upon his face as he saw Vhagar begin to dive towards the sandy ground, quick to action, Aemond grasped her reigns and pulled them back with a strength unfound within him before. Shifting Vhagar from a dangerous dive to an exhilarating and swaying glide.

Aemond peered up from behind the grips of the saddle, feeling safe enough to look at his surroundings from such a grand height. He ducked his head as Vhagar flew into a flock of birds. He laughed at the euphoria of it all, what high could have possibly matched the feeling of riding a dragon. No troubles could possibly find him when he was all the way up here, no trouble could possibly face him with the largest dragon in the world as his mount. He felt invincible, and dangerously, he had felt powerful.

Baela and Rhaena had awoken from their slumber, the sound of Vhagars roars as she took to the sky had startled them awake. They rushed to the window and saw the small speck of a person mounting the dragon as she took flight. The two shared a look of dread before rushing to get dressed.

“Who could it be?” Rhaena had frantically asked her sister as they rushed towards the bed chambers of Rhaenyra’s children.

Baela answered angrily “I only know one who would possibly attempt such a thing.”

Rhaena’s eyes widened “she wouldn’t,” her sister had sent her a certain look, to which she denied “Daenerys would never, not after what he had told her!”

Baela huffed and looked ahead of herself only to be stopped by Rhaena “She is not cruel!”

Her lips pursed before she told “go find out for yourself then, I’ll go wake the boys,” she tugged her arm away and quietly entered the room.

Rhaenas lips had quivered, fearful that her sister’s words may have been true. As she made her way to Daenerys’s bedchamber, her dread grew and grew. Knocking on the door, she was met with no answer, pushing the door open she gasped in horror. Her bedcovers had been untouched, and she was nowhere inside her rooms.

She returned to her sister, her eyes wide with anguish and betrayal “Shes not in her rooms,” she muttered, barely loud enough for Baela to here.

Lucerys frowned “who isn’t?”

“Your sister,” Baela told as she lead them all to the path ways beneath the castle, that had lead outside to the shore.

Jacaerys frowned “what of her?”

“She must have stolen Vhagar!” Baela accused angrily, startling Jacaerys.

The boy was quick to his sister’s defence “she would never.”

“Then do tell me why is she absent from her-,” Baela’s words were cut short once her eyes had found the true perpetrator “it’s him!”

Aemond was disinterested in whatever they had to say but he humoured them none the less “it’s me.”

He had intended to find Daenerys, to celebrate his achievement with her, for he had believed she would have been thrilled. Instead, he was met with the faces of his cousins and his nephews, to see the faces of Jace and Luke without their irking grins and taunting remarks, granted him a feeling foreign to him. Gone was the timid expression on the boy’s face, instead he now donned an expression of smug pride. One of which he had relished unashamedly in.

Rhaena was relieved that it had not been Daenerys that had claimed her dragon, but she could not ignore her newfound hate for the boy who had stolen from her what was hers to inherit.

“Vhagar was our mother’s dragon!” Baela told.

Aemond had no sympathy for the anguished girl for he was too blinded by his own vanity “your mother’s dead! Vhagar has a new rider now,” he proclaimed with a smirk on his lips.

Rhaena’s face twisted with rage “Vhagar was mine to claim!”

He rolled his eyes at her proclamation “then you should have claimed her!” he sneered at the girl as he gestured to Jace and Luke “maybe your cousins could find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.”

Rhaena charged forward, outraged by the insult, had Aemond a bit of sympathy he would have held his tongue. She wrestled with the boy, but she was foolish to think she would have faired any good against him. Aemond threw her to the ground beside him, vulnerable to an attack from Baela. The piqued Baela struck him across the face with her tightened fist, a blow that would have made her father proud. The strike had sent Aemond to the ground.

The blow had not been strong enough to knock the boy back to his senses, he arose from the ground, madness in his eyes. Striking Baela across the face with no hesitation and no shame. His attack was charged by his rage at the girl’s gall, how dare she strike a prince of the realm?

He laughed as he heard her whines “come at me again and I will feed you to my dragon!” he threatened.

Baela looked up at him with terror, clutching the side of her face as she scrambled away from him.

Jacaerys, ever the brave and honourable one charged at Aemond after shoving Lucerys away from the fight. Striking Aemond once before being kicked to the ground.

Lucerys shrieked as he charged at Aemond, but the boy was too inexperienced to even know what to do with his fists. Aemond grabbed the boy by his neck and granted him a punch straight to the face. Breaking Luke’s nose and harshly throwing him to the ground.

Daenerys had found herself struggling to sleep once she had arrived at her chambers, she took to wandering about the halls once more, candle in hand. A challenge it had proven since the nights watch had been pacing nearly every hall close enough to the king’s bedchamber.

She marvelled at the crab feeders mask once more, such a powerful man he was, but even dead, his battle never wished to end. She gasped as she saw the mask begin to shake, along with the entire hall. She reached for it, holding it still as it shook.

Daenerys frowned in worry ‘what could have shaken the foundations of High tide?’ She thought to herself. She knew it was not long before the entire castle had awakened from its slumber.

The girl frantically rushed back to her chambers, careful as she walked past the doors of her brothers’ rooms. She halted in her tracks, for when she had stood before them they were left open. Warily entering her brother’s bed chambers, her heart dropped with worry as she found their beds empty. She raked her mind, wondering where they could have gone, it was as though the gods had granted her an answer. Daenerys froze when she heard the sound of her brother’s shrill cries echoing through out the halls.

she dropped her candle against the cold cobblestone and ran towards the sound of her brothers’ cries. As she grew closer, the clamour had grown louder. As she rounded around the corner her eyes widened in horror of the sight, Lucerys was clawing at the hand of Aemond as he gripped his neck tightly, stone raised in the other, ready to strike.

“You will die in flames just as you father did!” Aemond told, before looking to Jacaerys as he insulted “Bastards!”

Daenerys grimaced, for she had thought her ears and eyes had betrayed her, but the stutter of her heart had proven they hadn’t. as she looked at the bloodied face of her brother and the bruised faces of her cousins, her face hardened with a fury, rushing forward to Luke’s aid. She grasped her brother’s arm and kicked Aemond to the ground “get away from him!” she roared, shielding Luke.

Aemond groaned as he curled on his side, eyes twisted shut as he clutched at his stomach. He had not known who had struck him, for it was a tone he had not recognised, and an action he would have never associated with his beloved friend. Arising from the ground he drew back the stone and struck Daenerys with such a force it had sent her collapsing to the ground.

Her eyes lulled from left to right before she propped herself up upon her knees, for every move had earned her a pulse of pain omitting from her cheek. Reaching her hand up she flinched away from her own touch for her skin had ached with warning. Looking at her hand she froze as she saw it stained with blood. Daenerys glanced between her bloodied hand and the boy who had done this to her, the boy she would have fondly called friend once. She found it difficult to piece together that this was his doing. A cloud of her fears began to storm above her head, with each clap of thunder these words had echoed ‘They are all the same, how foolish you are, to ever think him any different to his brother.’

Aemonds eyes widened in horror as he saw what he had done, stone still in his clenched fist. His lips twitching up into a scowl at his own actions, for what he had done to her. The left side of her face had gone red around the gaping and oozing cut on her cheek bone. She had never looked at him in such a way before. She would always have compassion or joy in her eyes whenever she looked at him, but now, there was nothing but fear. The wounded Daenerys tensed in her place, screaming at herself ‘what do I do? How do I stop this? He couldn’t have met any of what he had done! But Luke is hurt and Rhaena is crying, and Jace… I’ve never seen him so angry,’ her eyes darted about the ground ‘he hurt me, he promised me he would never, but he did, worse than Aegon ever could, he lied to me, he lied.’

Jace felt a rage burn within him that he had not felt before, with a knife drawn he charged at the startled Aemond. He jumped back and struck the boy with the stone, knocking the blade out of his hand.

Lucerys came to his brothers aid, quick to action he reached for his brothers knife, and glanced to him for permission.

Daenerys came to her senses as she saw the weapon in her brother’s hand crying out “Luke, Don’t!”

Jacaerys tossed a handful of sand onto the startled princes face, and his younger brother followed with a blind swipe of his knife.

Aemond cried out as he fell to the ground, clutching at his face as he writhed on the floor. His hands trembled over his face as he blindly searched, he had not known where the wound was for his face burned with a searing pain. He thought his eyes had refused to come open, for he could not see. In truth, both eyes were wide open, one blinded by the thick blanket of blood covering it, the other was severed in half.

Lucerys was rooted in his place as he looked at what he had done, knife falling from his shaking hand. his face contorted with terror, lips quivering and eyes beginning to water with heavy tears.

“SEIZE THIS AT ONCE!” Harrold Westerling cried out.

Daenerys shot up from the ground and pulled Lucerys away, holding him tight as he sobbed in her arms. She glanced down to the squirming Aemond, worry in her eyes as she feared the worst had become of him.

Harrold pushed past all the children, dashing towards the groaning boy “my prince… let me see,” he carefully turned the boy on his back, and pried his hands away from his face.

Daenerys ‘s face paled as she saw the open wound. The gaping red void that took over the half of his face, absent of an eye, blood beginning to ooze from it.

Aemond was still unaware of what had happened to him, in a state of stupor, as he looked over to Daenerys his remaining eye widened with trepidation as he saw the horror on her face. The searing white pain had begun to dampen, he had thought it was but a scar, but their faces and the words that left the mouth of the lord commander were enough for him to know it was more than just a scar.

“Gods be good.”

The king stared at his kin with disbelief, glancing at the state of every one of them, each seemed to be in a worse condition than the last. He found it harder to comprehend that this was not some attack at dead of night upon the children of the house of the dragon, but it was the incomprehensible horror that they all had turned on the other.

“How could you let this happen?” Viserys asked, still denying the terrible fact as he questioned his guard, who seemed as baffled as he was “I will have answers.”

Harrold bowed his head in shame “The princes were supposed to be abed my king.”

“Who had the watch?” he questioned.

Ser Criston had answered “The young prince was attacked by his own cousins your grace.”

Viserys stood from his seat, roaring at his guard “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!”

Harrold continued to bow his head, muttering apologies to his king. While Ser Criston defended “The Kings guard has never had to defend princes from princes, your grace.”

Viserys yelled in dismay, practically spitting at the knight’s face “that is no answer!”

Alicent clutched her son’s hand, caressing it assumingly as she watched the Maester stitch away at the wound “It will heal,” she assured both her son and herself, forgetting to ask “will it not, Maester?”

The Maester informed her “the flesh will heal,” granting her a moment of false relief, as he tugged to harshly on the thread “but the eye is lost.”

A shuddered breath of horror left her lips as she mourned her sons loss, such a visceral reaction her body had as she reeled back. Viserys eyes fell shut with disappointment as he heard the news, bowing his head as he pondered, what reprimand could he possibly enforce upon these children, and what could have led to such a thing ever happening.

Helaena’s face softened for her brother as she watched him being tended to. Her gaze lifting only to follow her mother as she stormed towards the innocent Aegon.

“Where were you?” she hissed at him.

“Me?” the boy credulously asked.

Helaena looked away with fear as she watched her mother strike her son across the face. Aegon cried out “what was that for?”

Alicent gripped his arm tightly as she told “that was nothing, compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!”

Aegon bowed his head fearful of another strike from his mother, he was at not at fault for what had happened to his brother and yet he had received the worse of her wrath for it.

Corlys’s voice boomed in the hall “What is the meaning of this?”

Rhaenys gasped as she saw the beaten faces of her granddaughters, beckoning them to her “Baela, Rhaena! What happened?”

The girls began to cry as they fell into her arms.

A dishevelled Rhaenyra marched into the room, followed by a proud and curious Daemon. She was startled by the audience, calling out to her children before finding them stood to the far left of the room, away from the prying eyes.

Alicent sent an incredulous look towards Rhaenyra and her kin.

Rhaenyra was horrified as she saw the bruised and bloodied faces of all her children, not even her youngest was spared. She looked to Daenerys who seemed to be mere stumbles away from falling, she grasped at her daughters’ shoulders and whispered, “what happened, who did this?” she grasped the small face of Luke and Daenerys, Luke whining as she touched his nose.

Aemond shouted from his seat “they attacked me!”

Jace defended “he attacked Baela!

Aemond argued from his seat “SHE STRUCK ME FIRST”

Jace scoffed before he shouted, “By a girl!”

Rhaena was held back by her grandmother “he took Vhagar! My mother’s dragon!”

Aemond snapped again “SHE WAS MINE TO CLAIM.”

Realisation dawned upon Daenerys as she realised the cause of it all, her face twisted with disappointment as she glanced towards Aemond pointedly.

“It should be my son telling the tale!” Alicent interjected, the look she held for all the children sent a cold chill up the uncommonly quiet Daenerys’s spine.

The echoing slam of a walking stick caused the most damning proof that showed that Aemond was in the wrong to be cut off. “THAT IS ENOUGH!” Viserys roared.

Jacaerys pulled on his mother’s arm, whispering to her “he called us bastards.”

Rhaenyra’s face stilled at the word, she brushed Jace’s shoulder in thanks for his information before turning to face the court. Shielding her children as she began to ponder what to do, how to twist this to her benefit.

Viserys stepped down from the driftwood throne towards his son “Aemond, I will have the truth of this, now.”

Alicent frowned at the king’s question, what use was there of it if the answer laid plain before him “what else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed her son is responsible,” she told, pointing at Lucerys.

Rhaenyra grasped Lucerys’s hands in her own, bowing her head as she told “a regrettable accident-.”

“Accident?” Alicent turned her eyes towards the court as she told them, pleading for their sympathies “the prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush, he meant to kill my son.”

It was as though a burst of green had omitted from the queen, their wisps dancing in the air.

Rhaenyra noticed what the queen had been trying to attempt, mustering a passion as she spoke aloud, drawing their attention “it was my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!”

Lucerys reached for his sister’s arm “he attacked Dany…”

Viserys glanced towards the girl, whose left eye was a flood of red.

Rhaenyra called out to her father’s attention “vile insults have been levied against them, my king.”

He frowned in confusion “what insults?”

Otto peered from around the throne, not moving from beside it. Eagerly awaiting to hear what insults had been thrown at them.

Rhaenyra’s lips twisted as she considered uttering them, acknowledging them before so many “the legitimacy of my children’s birth was put into question.”

“What?” the baffled Viserys asked, an anger laced within his words as the matter was brought to him again.

Jacaerys did not sugar coat his words like his mother had, instead he spoke them plainly “he called us bastards,” his answer had earned a gracious nod from his mother.

Aemond smiled to himself, to hear them say it was music to his ears, no longer had they a place to hide.

“Your grace, my children are in line to inherit the iron throne!” worry etched in her words “this is the highest of treasons” she reminded “prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we know where he heard such slanders” she glanced to Alicent, ignoring the incredulous look Aemond had sent her.

“Mother!?” Daenerys whispered in disbelief. Surely her mother would not demand the torture of a boy. She was pulled back by her brother Jace, who demanded her silence.

A burst of raging black began to omit from Rhaenyra, the colour dancing and clashing in the air with the wisps of slithering green.

Alicent was bewildered by Rhaenyras words “over an insult?” her voice wavered as she asked “my son has lost an eye” she reminded of the obvious, but Rhaenyra’s resolve had not wavered.

Daenerys retreated behind her mother, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched her mother fend for them, in a manner Daenerys and the children had never seen before.

Viserys glanced towards his son, who stared blankly at the floorboards awaiting this ‘sharp questioning’ he would be subjected to. Viserys spoke “you tell me, boy, where did you hear such lies?” Aemond felt scorned, for his father did not speak his name nor call him son.

Alicents nerves spiralled as she saw her son glance towards her, she cut in “The insult was training yard bluster, the lot of boys, it was nothing-.“

“Aemond” her words had pittered out into the air as Viserys ignored her “I asked you a question.”

Aemond stayed silent as he pondered, would he speak truth and place his mother at the forefront of his father’s wrath. Or would he protect her for she was all he had left.

His mother continued to attempt and tear away their attention from her son “where is Ser Laenor I wonder? Their father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter.” She asked.

The king had acknowledged her words “yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know your grace. I… could not find sleep, I had gone out to walk.”

A scoff left the queens lips, not shying away from making a sly remark before Laenor’s parents “entertaining his young squires I would venture.”

Corlys and Rhaenys shared warning looks at the queen’s words towards their son.

Viserys turned to look at Aemond once more, the irony as he asked him “Aemond, look at me, who spoke these lies to you?”

He gave another glance to his mother, who stood rooted in her place for fear of whatever answer he had. Aemond looked back to his father before he could notice and answered, “it was Aegon.”

“Me?” Aegon felt his stomach drop.

No words could describe the relief Alicent had felt at her sons answer.

Viserys stared at his eldest son, the venom of disappointment woven in every word “and you boy?” as Viserys left, Aemond took the chance to give his mother a reassuring nod.

Aegon was frozen in his place as he dared not look at the face of his angered father “where did you hear such calumnies?” his irritation had boiled over at that point, such accusations coming from within the house of the dragon, he roared in the face of his son “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

He frowned in fear, as he carefully chose his words “we know father, everyone knows.” He looked away from the wooden floor and at the three dark haired children, a grimace of disgust lining his lips “Just look at them”.

Rhaenyra stepped back towards her frightened children as she saw the eyes of the throne room shift to them. Her eyes glazed over as she met those of her fathers, who could not bear this no longer.

His eyes stared around the room, seeing each of the children’s faces bloodied bothered him so, his arms flailing about as he spoke his words with a passion “This interminable infighting must cease! All of you!” he roared, his voice wavering as he continued “we are family!”

Aemond looked up at his father, awaiting something, anything that would give him justice for the eye he had lost. Pleading that his mother would not be the only one to stand in his defence, pleading that his father would avenge him for what he had lost.

Viserys looked away from the eye of his son, not bearing to look at it any further “now make your apologies and show good will to one another.” he saw the reluctance across all their faces, and he shouted, “your father, your grandsire, your KING demands it!”

Aemond stared at his father before staring back at the ground again, dejectedly. He thought no one was to stand at his side until his mother spoke, unwilling to allow it to end with none held accountable “that is insufficient, Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my king,” She reminded, thinking the king had forgotten about the obvious injury his son had suffered “good will cannot make him whole.”

He sighed “I know Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it has been taken,” she declared.

“What would you have me do?” he confusedly asked.

Her voice did not waver as she spoke, and it scared all of whom were within the throne room “there is a debt to be paid.” Viserys stared at her bewildered, what debt could possibly pay for a lost eye? “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.”

“My dear wife-.”

“He is your son, Viserys, your blood” her voice broken by the fact her husband cared not to avenge her son but the maintenance of the family that took something so precious from him.

“My dear wife…” Viserys spoke again “do not allow your temper to guide your judgement.”

A sigh of frustration left her lips before she stated, “if the king will not seek justice the queen will,” She ignored the look of disbelief her husband gave her “Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”

Lucerys, frightened grabbed onto his mother’s skirts “Mother?”

Corlys had gathered Rhaenyra’s children, huddling them all together with Rhaena and Baela, encircling them protectively with his wife.

“Alicent!” The king questioned, hoping for this to be a jest.

But this was no jest to her, they would need to pay for the crime they had committed “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.” Her eyes staring into Lucerys distressed face.

“You will do no such thing” she warned the knight.

Viserys commanded the contemplating Ser Criston “Stay your hand.”

“YOU ARE SWORN TO ME” she would not have herself denied.

Ser Criston would have brought his queen the eye of all of Rhaenyra’s children if she had wished it, but the stare of the Lord Commander had warned him against it and the kings warning had made him wisely reconsider “as your protector, my queen.”

Her shoulders fell at his words, her shuddered breaths were followed by tears as she stared blankly into the eyes of her husband, eyes that her children had shared “Alicent, this matter is finished, do you understand?” she had searched the piercing blue pools, for something, anything, how could he leave her out to fend for their son alone?

Aemond turned to look at the boy who had maimed him, pathetically hiding behind his mother, and held in the arms of his once friend. His scowl had wavered as he locked eyes with her, and she stood taller, fell away her sympathy for she was now faced with a choice, her brothers, or her friend. Daenerys had not the need to think too long for whom she was to choose. He finally understood his Grandsires warning. The voice of his father had given him hope that some action would be taken to avenge him.

“And let it be known” the king announced as he cautioned all who were present “anyone whose tongue DARES to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children.” He looked at the direction of his wife and her children “should have it removed”.

Alicent could not describe the let-down of his words, willing to act for his bastard grandchildren and not his son. The taunting voice of Rhaenyra only pushed her further.

“Thank you, father.” She turned to look at her three children and gave them a reassuring smile, her hands rested upon her daughters bruised face “It will heal don’t worry.”

“I want to go back to Dragonstone” Daenerys told her mother, despair clear across her face.

Pursing her lips, she gave a light nod and mouthed “ok” and before she could gather them all, the flash of horror that went across her children’s faces startled her. Turning around upon hearing the cries of fear from her son Luke.

She saw the queen, the woman she once called a beloved friend, the woman who she would lay with beneath the tree of the godswood and read with to the heart's content, the woman she had wished to take to the skies with, charge at her children, with a blade in hand. She gripped at her arms restraining the queen from attacking further, pushing her away from her children. The crowd parting around them like oil recoiling from a drop of water.

Lord Westerling shouted for his guard to stay their hand, but all had listened but a Ser Criston Cole who seemed eager to charge at the princess. He was blocked by Daemon, who finally left his station in the shadows.

Corlys Velaryon guarded his grandchildren and ushering them behind him. shielding them all from the horrific sight, but Daenerys was tall enough to peer through and watch.

Rhaenyra kept a tight grip on the hand that wielded the knife “you’ve gone too far” she told. Terrified as Alicent kept attempting to force the knife towards her.

“I?” she questioned “What have I done but what was demanded of me?” she asked, the question was not for Rhaenyra to answer “forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law.” Her rage far exceeded her restraint as it had all slipped away at this very moment “While you flout all TO DO AS YOU PLEASE!”

Viserys worriedly looked on as he commanded “Alicent, let her go!”

Her face soon contorted into desperation, desperation for reaffirmation “where is duty? Where is SACRIFICE?! It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”

Otto HighTower’s voice echoed as he called out “release the blade Alicent.”

She did not hear her father commands, but her strength had faltered as she recalled his words to her, the pain Rhaenyra would inflict upon her children had already begun “You take my sons eye, and to even that you feel entitled.”

Rhaenyra held no sympathy for the woman who dared raise a blade against her children “exhausting wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” she spoke her words with vitriol.

Alicents lips quivered at her words, she had garnered no sympathy from Rhaenyra, nor had she any for her. The corner of her lip began to twitch into a scowl.

“But now they see you as you are” her whispered words drove through Alicents resolve and she pushed her away. Dragging the Kings blade of Valyrian steel down Rhaenyra’s arm.

The silence that befell the throne room was so loud that the soft trickles of blood spattering upon the ground rang within the throne room. Rhaenyra’s staggered body supported by Corlys.

As Alicent saw the result of her outburst the dagger slipped from her hands and clattered upon the floor. The weight of her actions befalling her, baffled as she saw the gaping wound on Rhaenyra’s arm.

Viserys stared at his wife, mouth agape with outrage at what he had just witnessed.

Colours black and green had begun to settle upon the children, done was their violent dance for they had all begun to choose their favoured host.

Aemond stood from his place and glanced between the knife on the ground and the wound on Rhaenyra’s arm. Restraining the want to smirk at his half-sister, but not concealing the pride he felt for his mother’s support.

The boy reassured his mother as he spoke “do not mourn me mother, it was a fair exchange.” She gave him a pained look as she stared at the injured face of her son “I might have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

Everyone stood in silence as they stared at one another in disbelief, if only the boy had spoken earlier. No bloodshed would have ensued.

Viserys sent a displeased look to his wife as he announced, “These proceedings are at an end.”

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #aemond fanfiction #aemond x oc #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #Helaena targaryen #aegon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #harwin strong #laenor velaryon #dragons #a song of ice and fire #aemond targaryen x reader #want for nothing

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sukunasun · 2 years

Note

begging you to pls elaborate on dilf geto.

more dilf geto.

"you have a tattoo," you say when you see his bare back under fluorescent lights, exposed and gleaming with sweat. it's a late night at the gym and geto's getting in the last few reps of his set. you're meant to drop by for...something you didn't remember because nothing is as important as watching a shirtless geto do pull ups.

he’s in the middle of his routine and it never gets old no matter how often you get to this part; muscles no longer as defined but they're there, filled out in just the right way, a little thick around the biceps, trading in washboard abs for toned lines and a nice bit of chub around the sides. adonis belt be damned, he doesn’t need one, geto's waist is perfect as it is, so sturdy you could watch him do hip thrusts all day. (...bare shoulders square and resting against a bench, hips rising and falling to a steady rhythm as he breathes through it, huffing, puffing. a drop of sweat rolls down his chest and you forcibly block out any ideas of what it would taste like on your tongue)

"i was really impulsive back then," he explains, sheepishly grinning as he eyes it in his reflection. still stark black and fearsome, the memory of him laying flat on his front for eight hours while his old headmaster rhythmically tapped and pierced a dragon into his skin is fresh. so is the pain he endured for a roaring face over his deltoids, sharp claws and scales leading down the middle, dipping, flexing under his shoulder blades, bending and moving along as he completes the last of his workout. "although, a lot of people were put off by it," and you wonder why.

gojo offers his input, "it's intimidating? he looks like he's in a gang," and he's not wrong considering geto's fashion taste is...questionable to say the least. closet consisting of oversized t-shirts he’s picked up from the vintage store, the kind with faded graphics and tacky script, animal print button-ups that are two sizes too small—thus, said buttons become redundant when he only manages to get three of them clasped—and these silk floral shirts he’s bought in bulk from a tourist shop. over the top sure, but it’s something else too, that which lies beneath the clothes because nothing ever wears geto, he makes it work, all the time.

"don’t tell me you’re into bad boys." you hear the smirk in gojo's voice. his best friend definitely looks the part of a yakuza boss. although, it's not that either, because geto's not a boy, he's wild and sexy and just the right amount of a rebel, a man no one fucks with. comfortable in his skin, playing by his own rules. who makes your knees go weak with every new cigarette he lights, every black strand of hair that fades into silver, only getting better with age, and he embraces all of it.

its the way he carries himself, matured, confident, unapologetic. even when he’s hurriedly grabbed something of yours by accident and finds himself at a bake sale with it pulled taut and stretched over his chest, cinching around his bulging arms. ‘I’M A HOT GIRL’ it reads, and his brownie recipe has never failed him but he gives your clothing some credit, after all, he’s raised over a thousand dollars. which is quite a feat given that most of these private school snobs wouldn’t ever think to consume anything that wasn't gluten-free or low in carbs.

while in comparison, geto always cooks by taste, whether cold soba noodles and steaming white rice among an array of dishes he’s prepared by hand, he's come to realise that "a recipe is only a suggestion," he shrugs, smiling when the braised pork and tempura turn out better now that he's more generous with the seasoning. a stew boils on the stove and it makes your stomach grumble when he’s placed it before you at his dining table. he chows down, big huge clumps of rice clasped by his chopsticks, the spinach he’s blanched and mixed with the stir-fry is almost gone before you can get a taste of it, but he saves extra pieces of meat for you. the tilt of his head when he relishes in the flavour, the groans he lets out, "mhm...thats good," his voice grits behind a mouthful. his savagery on display, hunger, and pride at what he's made, that he's now sharing it with you.

gosh, you don't know how long you can stand this, here with legs spread wide on either side, geto leans back into the chair that's dwarfed by his tall frame, his whole chest out collecting the crumbs that fall, caught in the fabric of his apron with white rabbits lining the hem, jaw clenching, unclenching as he chews, fuck...does he know how beautiful he is, geto looks the picture of perfect health. who eats whatever he wants and enjoys it. all the salt and sugar, the extra bits of garlic. even when he would come off messy, sloppy, your heart clenches every time he so much as blows the spoonful of soup before feeding it to you, or that he reaches out to rub at the sauce left at the corner of your mouth, licking it off his thumb.

the act is innocent, nothing more than a kind gesture on his part. but seconds later, it sets something off in him when it dawns on him. feels that desire bubbling up, suddenly self-conscious and so aware that your bodies are so close. only separated by a feast and an unnamed...thing; an overwhelming burst of longing, heart slowing down because you can only focus on each other, he could inch just a little closer, kiss and suck that corner tasting of balsamic vinegar and sweet surrender.

"what does he have that i don't?" says every guy who tries and fails to impress, to charm. geto finds his old records one day as he's clearing out the back room. a few hundred of them nestled in a beer crate, worn from age and use, dusty, but holding all the memories in the grooves and scratches of the vinyl. decorated with the fingerprints of a younger geto in high school picking it up as a hobby not knowing how to actually hold one or care for them. now he's learned to hold them by the edges, that they should be stood upright instead of getting stacked on top of one another, keeping the pressure and weight off them. so wary of everything, gentler, patient.

sifting through them he comes to find one that has an old and worn-out cover, running his fingers over it he relishes in the feel of the wrinkles and texture underneath, the smell so inviting and long-lasting, waxy and yellowed on the edges, only getting better with age. slipping the record out he places it gently through the center spindle, before dropping the needle on it. when the beginning sounds of a soul tune ring through the speakers, he takes a moment to relish it, crackles and all, basslines vibrating through the house.

geto pulls you closer by the hand. "dance with me," he smiles, and so do you. "forget about them," he whispers, lips pressed to your ear, holding you close, holding you tight, swaying. forget about all the other boys who make you run circles around them. you're tired of it, to say the least, of going through the talking stage, the pointless hookups, and all the ways these dates will never live up to a moment spent in his presence.

#dilfism is an epidemic ... and im only making it worse #i would pay big money to see a showdown between dilf geto and dad geto.... whorish vs wholesome....#this is a geto girls only event if ur not a geto girl go home #ask #anon #sunpiece #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #geto suguru #geto suguru hcs #geto x reader #saturated #geto suguru smut #geto suguru fic #geto smut #geto hc #dilf geto

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count-alucard-tepes · 11 months

Note

OP Hotties vs S/O in hogging the bedsheets.

Just cuz S/O is smaller (they’re probably average height compared to normal humans, but it’s a different story with these guys 🤣) doesn’t meant they won’t put up a fight before settling in for a cuddle and a snuggle, maybe a lil smooch too

Kizaru ✨

He would wake up feeling the night air on his skin and then look over at his S/O who was wrapped in their cocoon. He’d try to pull the sheets a bit but if it doesn’t come off, he just grabs a blanket and falls asleep with that.

Akainu🌋

He barely sleeps with sheets all year round so when he feels his S/O cuddled up, he gives them a kiss and falls asleep again.

Ryokugyu 🌱

He wakes up from the cold air touching his body and notices all the sheets are, “…goddammit, Y/N…every damn night”, he’d say before pulling the sheets off his S/O and tried to cover himself but an hour later…they were gone.

Fujitora 🐅

He would feel the sheets move from his body and would search for them with a hand before realizing his S/O had them. From then, he would always have his own blankets and sheets separate from his S/O.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He would wake up pissed off because he loves being wrapped up in the covers, “…I swear if I didn’t love you as much as I do…someone would die…”, he’d hiss before grabbing before blankets. From the next night onwards, he would have his own sheets and blankets.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He would wake up lazily and find nothing covering him. He’d look over at his S/O and bear hug them as he wasn’t gonna pull the sheets since they looked so cute. He fall asleep in this position for their rest of the night.

Benn Beckman 🔫

He would notice his S/O was hogging all the sheets and huffed before trying to tug it from them, “…come on…just a little “, he’d whisper before finally getting it free.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He notices his S/O stealing on the sheets and sighed softly before just laying there without any sheets. It didn’t matter though he’d still fall asleep.

Killer🔪

He didn’t even notice at all during entire night so he would just drape himself over his S/O’s body and sleep happily.

Kaido🐉

His S/O usually falls asleep on his chest so he doesn’t mind at all him if the sheets are snatched away.

King 👑

He would yawn lazily as he woke up to find all the sheets were gone. He raised a brow and looked over his S/O before chuckling a little. He tugged a bit before letting it go and just sleeping without the sheets.

Queen👑

He wouldn’t even wake up if the sheets were snatched, he didn’t even care as long as they were both comfortable…that’s all that mattered.

Izou🔫🔫

He would kiss and cuddle his S/O and once they relaxed, he immediately snatched the sheets back and smiled happily as he slept.

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒

He would wake up as soon as he felt the night chill and look at his S/O. He sighed softly before trying to get the sheets from his S/O. When it seems like it’s not gonna happen, he just gets another blanket and sleeps with that.

Oven Charlotte 🍞

He would smile as he watched his S/O sleeping so cutely before cuddling up to them happily as he barely sleeps with sheets since he gets hot so quickly.

Buggy🤡

His hands come off and grab more blankets before bringing it for him to cuddle with and then he sleeps peacefully for the rest of the night.

Marco the Phoenix 🦅

He yawned lazily as he woke up and rubbed his eyes before giving his S/O some kisses and then cuddled up to them. He wasn’t gonna fight for the sheets and was already KO.

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lexsssu · 6 months

Text

Same (Grima!Robin)

TAGS: Grima(M)!Robin/Dragoness!reader, enemies to lovers, heats/ruts, dirty talk, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver.

“Am I really so interesting you must pester me?”

That was the first sentence Grima had ever directed at you, which you replied to by narrowing your eyes at him as shining gold clashed with blazing red. You’d think that seeing as you both were Fell Dragons there would be a certain kinship between you despite coming from completely different worlds.

Sadly, you didn’t expect how surly and simply aggravating he was to be with when you only wanted to form a friendship with him.

With a huff, your great wings appeared from your back and flew you away from the irritable god, intending to play with the dragon children instead or even enjoy a cup of tea with Corrin & Kamui.

Grima’s crimson eyes glowed in the dark as he stared at your receding back, a faint tugging sensation in his chest making itself known the moment you were a fair distance away from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are a curious one...You willingly come to chat with me? The fell dragon? Alone?”

“Listen here, mister. In case you haven’t noticed or gotten the memo yet...I’M A FELL DRAGON TOO!”

In your anger, you stepped right up to Grima until your face was but centimeters away from his, albeit you were a bit on the shorter side but your confidence and projection made you all the more taller.

The surly sorcerer surprisingly didn’t feel that your words or tone was disrespectful, nor did he feel irritated at how closely you stood before him as if you were equals. Rather, he felt quite...intrigued.

He normally had no qualms about sending anyone who irritated him a severe beatdown or even death if he was feeling merciful, but you? The silver-haired male couldn’t help but find your actions quite...endearing if he was being honest with himself.

You bare your claws and fangs at him as if to intimidate him, but your actions proved otherwise. The fact that you always rebuked him for his “ mistakes ” only to still look back aggrievedly as if waiting for him to coax you always left him feeling VERY bemused.

Why, you were like fledgeling clumsily trying to attract a mate by acting coquettish without even knowing what your actions were suggesting!

“Be careful with your words and actions, girl. Lest someone take them as an invitation for something more.”

And he left just like that, leaving you utterly bewildered by his cryptic riddles.

“What is this man raving about again…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Will you be my mate and bear my young or must you continue this game of chase with me? Bear in mind the fact that regardless of your answer...I will have you whimpering beneath me and crying for my seed in your womb,” the male dragon growled in your ear, a delighted shiver travelling down your spine as fluids shamefully collected at your untouched lower lips.

The both of you were away from Askr’s castle, in a secluded cave ways away from any hero, enemy, or even civilian who might stumble into it by chance. Piles of fur meticulously cleaned laid on the cold, hard ground and providing comfort and warmth from the abrasive floor.

Yet, their warmth was nothing compared to the large, strong, and practically burning hot body that caged your own against the mass of furs. However, the hottest part was the groin that unashamedly rubbed and ground itself against your soft buttocks. Even within the confines of his trousers, Grima’s cock stood tall and proud as it tented against the fabric, caressing your cunt and further ruining the once pristine pair of panties you wore. The fabric had already turned transparent with how much juices leaked out of your lewd pussy, a fact that the damned god took great pleasure in.

“Look at how much slick you drip just from this alone and tell me...does it not please you to mate with the only male of our kind? I see how you care for the whelps within the Order and thought...would it not be better to have hatchlings of our own for you to mother?”

As you ponder dazedly over his words, he takes the time to lick and nibble at the junction between your neck and shoulder. Biting at the area teasingly as he continued his ministrations, letting you feel the sweltering heat of his hard cock as he humped your pussy from behind, ready to mount you at a moment’s notice but refraining from taking that final step.

“I’ll be good to you, on my honor as a Fell Dragon. I will provide and care for you as a mate should and that extends to all children that will be born from our union. Never shall I stray and forever we shall stay together.”

“...Grima, please…”

The sound of a dragon’s roar echoed through the cave and resounded through the kingdom, alerting both citizens and the Order alike, but no one could find the source.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only until three days later that you and your new husband/mate reappeared before the shocked eyes of the heroes. A proud mark shone on your neck, looking less like a bite mark and more like a tattoo as it shone a bright red whereas Grima’s which shone like gold on his left collarbone above where his heart should be was hidden beneath his cloak.

No one made a comment about your abrupt disappearance and return together. Nor did they attempt to inquire about the slight roundness of your belly, too afraid to earn Grima’s ire which was all too easy to do and usually resulted into a none too pretty sight.

Judging by the way the Fell Dragon menacingly hovered over you, it was within the best interests of everyone not to ask any questions.

#lexsssu writes #fire emblem heroes #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #fe awakening #grima x reader #grima x you #grima x y/n #feh grima x reader #crossposted on ao3

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dujour13 · 4 months

Text

Secret Santa gift for my friend @offsidekineticist. Happy Holidays! 💕☃️💕

I hope you know I had to enlist the aid of both Ophenia and Woljif to piece this story together. Oh, that reminds me—(Siavash digs in his vest pocket and produces one silver bracelet, twelve gold pieces and a Chelish noble house signet ring)—with Woljif’s apologies. No questions asked about the ring.

I hope I got the main story beats right enough for art.

The half-orc druid I eventually tracked down in the Aspodell mountains told me Qweck was involved, but even my utmost attempts at diplomacy couldn’t prevent Qweck from slamming the door in my face, so I’m not sure where she fits into the story. There was also apparently a dinosaur? Or a golem made of dinosaurs? Anyway, here it is, as promised.

(He takes a sip of mulled Andoren wine and gives you a wink as he begins.)

🎶 The Ballad of Bellflower Hellfire 🎶

The Devil went down to Cheliax, she was lookin’ for a soul to steal She was biding her time at the scene of the crime In a gem that was magically sealed When Gil came across that necklace, offering vengeance and serving it hot And the devil grabbed hold of his heart in her claws And said boy lemme tell you what I guess you’ll do ‘bout anything to give them slavers their due And if you vow to serve me now I’ll lend a hand to you Now you’d make a damn fine Bellflower, boy All I ask is a soul or two I’ll bet the slaves you’ll free are worth that fee And it was true for all he knew And so the halfling set about with the fury of Hell in his hands Without a regret started paying his debts Freed his folk from their iron bands (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Twas a rainy night in Brastlewark and Thay sat with his book And he heard the sound of rustlin’ around and went to have a look There stood Gil ‘bout to catch a chill And Thay in his distress, said come on down, you look half drowned And bundled Gil up good And thus began the heart-bond ‘tween the halfling and the gnome In the shadow of Thrune their sweet love bloomed, over cocoa snug at home (There’s a break with romantic picking, then a shift to an ominous chord) Til one dark day the news reached Gil that made his heart stop cold The iron glove of Hell came down and crushed all Gilly’s hope The Hellknights came, they were taking names, Mister Theo was their prey Gil shed tears of grief and rage - the Rack had taken Thay And Gil like Hell’s own vengeance on the wings of dragon black Rained down on Rivad fury and fire and laid to waste the Rack The only reclamation that was glorious that day Was Gil who stormed the citadel and rescued poor dear Thay (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Thay in gloom of dungeon hoped for nought but Ph’rasma’s grace He held his ground, made not a sound as tears fell down his face The Rack had wrought their cruel work and yet his lips were sealed All he cared to pray for was an end to his ordeal When a signifier’s shattered mask was tossed between the bars And Theo raised his eyes and hope rekindled in his heart A little short for a Hellknight, Theo said through tears of joy Though they were trapped within the citadel the righteous would destroy In a desperate race for freedom the heroes stumbled toward the gates Paladins and Hellknights laid the citadel to waste As knights closed round Gil stood his ground o’er Theo’s tortured form As in his breast the fires of Hell let loose in violent storm (from this crescendo the tempo slows, becomes soulful) When Theo felt the heat of Hell and raised his heavy head And saw that Gil had rescued him but damned himself instead With failing limbs he lifted up and braved the flames of Dis To wrestle Gil from the Devil’s grasp and free him… with True Love’s Kiss (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul

---

Note: Modeled after “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

#help i am neither a bard nor a poet (hiding behind my oc)#happy holidays!!#friends' ocs #pwotr pals #giliys #theo #theo & giliys #reading back through the breakup arc to prepare this was SO much fun #what a beautiful story ❤️#i love these two dearly #and qweck who got a bit short changed i'm afraid sorry qweck #Spotify

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