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helaelaemond · 7 months

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Honey on my Tongue - Aemond x reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x betrothed reader

Summary: You’ve been betrothed to Aemond, and he has shown little interest in you during your engagement. It hurts so much, for your heart yearns for him. You can't hold it back any longer

Slightly possessive Aemond. Suggestive situations.

Rating: T

Word count: 1.9k

"Would my lady care to dance?"

You look at the hand held out to you, and glance up at Prince Aegon. He grins down at you, and you take his offer graciously. "Thank you, my prince."

Next to him, the princess watches you curiously, and opposite her, your betrothed, Prince Aemond, keeps his one eye fixed on his brother.

"I think we have an audience," you say quietly, smiling.

"Just as I like," Aegon jokes. His hands are sure against you as you begin the simple dance, stepping in time to the music. At every opportunity, he presses himself closer than is proper. It should bother you - but at least you're getting attention from one prince.

"I do wonder about you sometimes," you tell him when steps bring you closer.

Walking in the correct steps around you, Aegon flashes you another grin. "I am on your mind often, then?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "When you say things like that, a certain curiosity is sparked."

"And is that a curiosity you wish to be satisfied?"

The wine they serve in the Red Keep is stronger than you're used to, and with it brings a boldness that is also foreign. "Is curiosity the only thing you can satisfy?"

He laughs loudly. "Gods, I am sure you think about that often! Should your curiosity ever grow too great to bear, you come and find me."

"And what of your wife?"

Taking your hand, he glances over your shoulder at sweet Helaena, and shrugs. "What of her?"

"How often do you dishonour her?"

"Where there is no love, there is no dishonour. Perhaps you would do well to remember that."

You raise your eyebrow at his implication. There is mirth in his pretty eyes. "Do you think I am destined for an arrangement where love will not flourish?"

Again, Aegon holds you closer than is proper, and his lips are closer to your ear. "My brother is a warrior and a scholar, not a lover. How warm can steel be in a marriage bed?"

There is a tightness in your chest at his words. Perhaps he means only to be charming, to be suggestive, or perhaps he is deliberately cruel. But it is not the elder brother who gives you butterflies. You glance over at your betrothed, and the ice of his glare makes you shiver.

"My lady?" Aegon asks. You've stopped dancing.

"Ah. My apologies, my prince. I think the wine is stronger than I am used to."

"All the better," he answers quietly, and he winks at you. "Should you desire oblivion this night, come to my chambers."

Your face is close to his, and you smile up at him. "I think not, my prince. Perhaps your hand is more curious than I."

Why did you say that? What in the world made you say that? His jaw hangs open in shock at your boldness, and a blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. You return to the table where Aemond and Helaena are sat, and where their mother and grandfather talk together quietly.

"Please excuse me, my queen, my Lord Hand. I think I might retire for the night."

Queen Alicent looks at you, and then at Aegon behind you, her eyes wide and searching. "Are you well, my dear?"

"Just a slightly sore head, Your Grace. Nothing a good sleep will not remedy."

Her smile is tight. "Do not hesitate to send for the maester should you need him. Sleep well, my dear."

You curtsey, and turn to do the same in Helaena and Aemond's direction. "My princess, my prince."

Helaena smiles at you, and Aemond's face is as cold as before. You sweep past Aegon on your way to the door, and ignore how he tries to reach for your hand as you pass him.

Out in the corridor, you lean against the cool stone wall, and try to hold back your tears. The soldiers either side of the hall doors keep their gazes forward. You clamp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stay silent. How much distaste looked at you with pierces you.

Since you met him, you have felt a draw to him. Sometimes, you have even managed to make him smile enough to laugh. Each time, the queen had looked so pleased. He doesn't seem to laugh often, but you bring that out in him. What a prize. And then, other times, he barely pays you any mind. He doesn't strike up conversations with you unless you speak first. He doesn't invite you to dance.

Those moments with him are precious to you. To him, they don't seem to matter in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Aegon throws himself at you like a whore. Perhaps, one day, you'll take him up on the offer - if for no other reason than to feel something. To close your eyes under his touch and imagine Aemond. Anything is better than this loneliness, surely.

You have to get out of here. As weak as your legs feel, you overcome the desire to crumple, and quickly, you begin walking down the corridor towards your rooms. Until you are married, your rooms are far from the royal quarters - quite a trek through the maze of the Red Keep. The doors to the hall where you have just had dinner with the royal family swing open and then closed, and footsteps join yours.

"Wait!" a command is barked. "My lady."

You ignore the order. Your betrothed is not yet your lord husband - he does not command you. Well, as a prince, he does. But the tears have begun to stream, hot and thick, from your eyes, and surely that will disgust him.

"My lady!"

Even Prince Aemond's harsh voice brings butterflies to your stomach. His gait is far longer than yours. You won't disgrace yourself by running like a child from him, and so he quickly catches up with you. As you walk quickly, he matches his steps to yours.

"You have no respect, do you, my lady?"

Furiously, you wipe your cheeks. "I have respect."

"Then stop when you are commanded."

"The command itself is not respectful. I wish to retire."

"And I wish to speak with you."

The wine. Blame the wine. "That is quite unusual."

He grabs your arm and pulls you into a shadowy alcove. "Do you deliberately wish to displease me?"

You try to wrench your arm from his hold but he's too strong. "There is nothing deliberate about it, but it seems it is the only feeling I can inspire in you."

He stares at you through the shadows, his purple eye searching, cold, and his jaw set. "And here I had thought you were intelligent."

"Do you often think of me?" Your voice is laced with accusation.

"More than you know."

"I know nothing."

"On that much, we agree."

You try to pull out of his hold again, but his slender hand is impossibly strong, a vice around your bicep. "What do you want from me, my prince?"

"Dignity."

"What, pray tell, have I done that you deem undignified?"

His lip curls slightly. He pulls you closer to him. "You danced with him."

"He is your brother - it would be shameful to decline his invitation."

"And what of his other invitations? Do you accept those?"

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "I know not of what you speak," you lie.

"He is a lecherous beast, not worthy of my sister, not worthy of-"

"Of whom?" you challenge.

His lips pull back over his teeth for a moment. The dim light makes shadows sharp across his angular face. Gods, he is beautiful. Even in rage, he is beautiful. And you do not fear him. You only fear his indifference. "You are my betrothed. I expect you to act as such."

"And how ought you act as my betrothed?"

"As I see fit," Aemond says, each word slow and deliberate.

"What of my expectations?"

He glares down at you. Gods, he's tall. It makes you weak. "What expectations do you have?"

"That my betrothed at least pretends to like my company."

That makes his spine straighten. The hand on your arm loosens slightly, and to your surprise, it trails up your shoulder and lightly touches your throat. It's impossible to breathe under such sudden tenderness. You can feel the callouses on his palm. "Pretend?" he echoes.

You nod stiffly. "I do not need to pretend. You know I enjoy your company. Too much, I think."

"Too much?"

"Don't. Do not do that."

Aemond's eye watches as his finger touches the base of your throat in the soft spot between your collarbones. It's where he gently feels your pulse. It's so quick. "Do what?"

"Do not pretend that you are unaware of my feelings."

"There is no pretence. I know not."

You push his hand away, although the touch has made your skin rise in goosebumps from your thighs to your scalp. "Then you are as blind with one eye than with none."

He snorts humourlessly. "Elucidate for me."

The wine, the wine, the wine. You shove his chest and he stumbles back, caught unawares. "I like you a great deal. And it agonises me that you do not feel the same. It is a humiliation!"

Swallowing thickly, Aemond's expression softens. "Aegon makes you laugh. I do not."

"Aegon is a fool, and makes me laugh as such. But I do not... I do not care... like I do... for..."

"You care?"

You could hit him, you really could. "If you could not tell by now, then we shall never make one another happy."

When you turn away to walk off, he catches you again, and suddenly he pulls you tight against his tall frame, and his arms are around your back, and his face is close to yours. "You make me laugh, my lady."

"I make many people laugh. You could make me a royal fool."

"Do not say such things," he hisses, anger flashing again. "You're my betrothed. Mine."

"I do not want to belong to you like a book or sword."

"Yes, you do." He leans down and whispers against your ear. "You are mine, and mine alone. I am sorry that you did not know that until now."

"Do you say this out of pride or love?" you ask, more bravery in your voice than you truly feel.

"My love is proud. And so too is my betrothed."

"Pride does not drive me, my prince. Only love."

"Do you love me?" he murmurs. It is good he is too close to look at. If he faced you, you would not have the strength to answer.

"I do."

"Not Aegon?"

"No."

He kisses under your ear. You whimper. His voice is so silky. "You will not dance with him again."

"Will I dance with you?"

"Every night until we are wed."

As he winds his arms tighter around you, you press a hand into his hair. "And once we are married?"

"We shall have no time for dancing. I shall have no mind for anything but possessing you."

"You want to possess me?"

He kisses your skin. "Entirely. For already, I am yours."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #mine #aemond targaryen

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weremonsterteeth · 5 months

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Orc Wife dicking you into oblivion before a battle.

She fucks into you with quick, sharp snaps of her hips that earn little high-pitched moans from you with every thrust. Your head is thrown back on a pile of cushions, hands clutching at fine fur pelts now soaked through from hours of taking your wife’s cock.

It’s all part of an Orcish tradition. Following through is imperative as it’s meant to provide warriors with the strength to fight and return home safely by “borrowing” it from their mate.

At first, you had been unsure about the effectiveness of the exchange. But now, as you're laid out flat and spent while your beloved pummels into your entrance with seemingly endless vigor, you begin to think there could be something to it.

You lift your shaking legs to encircle your wife’s waist as she punishes your dripping hole. She loves watching her cock disappear inside of you, but she looks up when she feels your thighs weakly squeeze around her.

“Oh, my sweet mate,” she coos, gentle fingers coming up to brush back the stray hairs sweat has slicked to your face. Her pace becomes languid as she buries herself completely within you and remains there, grinding slow circles into you. “You’ve done so well.”

You lock your legs around her and you press yourself down on her cock, groaning at how its thickness stretches you even this long into your love-making.

“Please don’t stop.” You look up at your wife with pleading eyes, rocking your hips on her length roughly in an attempt to spur her on. “I want you to keep going. Keep taking it from me.”

Her hands suddenly grasp your hips hard, a growl escaping the back of her throat as her claws dig at your skin. The pace is still slow as she guides your harsh movements to hit spots inside you only she knows.

“Oh gods,” you moan out, eyes shut tight. “Please, my love.” Your begging is whiny and breathless as she works you over her dick. “Just take everything. Take it so you can come back to me.”

Her motions falter as she processes your words. She lets out a small snort of amusement before relaxing her hold on you, hands trailing up your body and caressing your features until two broad arms come to rest at either side of your head, caging you in under her larger frame.

"Worried for me? How precious.” Her lips yield tender kisses to your shoulder, making out a path across your chest.

“When I return,” she says, “I’ll shower you with tokens of my victory and carry you off here to my chambers.” Sharp teeth playfully nip at the skin of your neck. Her mouth begins sucking her marks into you, tongue swiping out to massage each deliciously sore bit of flesh.

“And then I’m keeping you here,” she chuckles against your skin. Her head pulls back momentarily as she takes you in, her perfect little mate bruised and panting beneath her. She smiles down at you warmly before lowering her face to yours again, lovingly grazing a tusk over your cheek in a deeply intimate gesture. “You won’t be allowed to leave under any circumstances.”

Her chest settles against yours, trapping you between soft furs and the warmth of your lover. You whimper lowly at the contact, bracing your palms against her sculpted shoulders as you try to rut yourself up against her solid form.

It’s far too much. You’ve already been overstimulated to tears several times over. All the sensations surrounding you, your wife’s wonderful promises, her closeness, her heat, her touch, her smell. Fucked out as you are, you’re still so needy for her. She seems to register just how much as you writhe pathetically - adorably - under her.

“Gods. You’re all for me.” She traces her tusk up your jawline and halts her motions with her lips hovering right next to your ear. “After this battle, my cock is going to fucking live inside of you.”

A hand grips each of your thighs and your legs are hefted over your wife’s shoulders as she folds you into a mating press. She slides her cock all the way out of you, teasing the tip at your opening before slamming back in and setting a brutal rhythm.

You scream out in shock and pleasure, throwing both arms around her neck. She has you so worked up and oversensitive that you’re cumming hard around her on the second thrust, wetness leaking over you both. You cling to your wife desperately as she rams into you with a new intensity. You asked her to take everything, which means she’s not stopping until you’re lying limp against the bed.

Yes. There definitely is something to this tradition.

#orc wife #orc fucker #orc romance #monster fucker #terato #orc x human #monster nsft #orc x reader #nsft #uhhhh I couldn’t stop thinking about orc wife so here this is

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luxxid · 1 year

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DIFFERENT PLACES WHERE THEY LOVE TO FUCK YOU

꒰ characters ꒱ ayato, al haitham, diluc, kaeya, heizou, tartaglia, scaramouche x fem!reader

꒰ warnings ꒱ mdni, smut, riding, vaginal sex, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex

ayato absolutely adores fingering you out in public, usually in places where you least expect it. he loves the thrill of the unexpected, and the feeling of adrenaline it brings. his demilune shaped fingernails grazing your glutinous walls. the table covering the filthy acts occurring under it. he loves to make sure that you too feel the thrill of the unexpected, as his nails move deftly over your body, drawing out sensations you never thought possible. he loves watching beads of sweat fall off of your forehead, forcing the moans to stay put in your mouth. he loves to make sure your heart races with anticipation as his fingers masterfully explore every inch of your body, taking you to a place you have never been before. his touch electrifies your senses, leaving you wanting much more. don't worry! if you've been a good girl, he'll reward you the second the both of you get home

al haitham loves fucking you to oblivion in the depths of the akademiya's library. the sound of skin slapping emitted throughout the wide room. his fat cock pumping inside your prodding hole, not even sparing a single moment to recollect yourself. al haitham's viridescent eyes are filled with lust and intensity, the sage didn't let a minute to waste, making sure your mind were blasted until you had your tongue out like a dirty bitch. crescent shaped nails dug deep into your thighs, leaving purple-scarlet marks. a sly smirk spread over his ephebic face. the knots in your stomach kept tangling itself even more, white halos formed around his pointy tip, being the cocky man he is, he would pull away at the last moment, making you spill tears of displeasure, revelling in the sensation of a shattering orgasm.

diluc loves to fuck you on his chair. the lumber material creaking with every thrust he made to your coaxing slit. gashing his aeonic length into you pertinaciously. he devoured you with fiery passion, his fervour intensifying with every stroke of his insatiable desire. tepid digits surrounded your naked waist. pleading moans echoed throughout the chamber as you melted in his arms, succumbing to the tender pleasure of his presence. diluc gently moved in and out of you, carefully caressing your inner walls with his long, soft thrusts. his torrid lips gently pressed against yours as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. his hands ran through your hair as you both moved in sync, lost in the moment.

heizou adores to fuck you in his office, precisely on his desk. all the research papers scattered on the floor. but he didn't care, all he was focused on was you, and your fruity cunt. his tongue did wonders— to say at least. lapping at your folds restlessly, both of his palms settled on your waist. crimson bites scattered all over your thighs. all he wanted to relish in was the pretty clit of yours and your ethereal moans. your hands kept tugging on his auburn locks, pretty tears clamping out of your eyes. he didn't want to waste a single second, he wanted to savour every moment of it - his tongue running circles around your precious clit and your gasps of pleasure causing an even deeper passion within him. his caresses and kisses making you lose yourself in the pleasure of it all, only to be found in his arms.

kaeya finds it entertaining to ruin your innocence, on his chair. two pretty thighs on top of his own, two hands on his shoulders as he held your waist with his frigid lissoms. his lean figure smirking as he caught the perception of your weeping form. riding his cock so good and nicely, he lights dimmed, and the air smelling of the exotic perfumes. you felt the sensation of pleasure radiating from the inside of your body and his as you both moved in perfect harmony. he would teasingly push faster, his hands dragging your curves and his firm lips pressing against yours as the intensity of your orgasm grew. you were in a trance, lost in the moment, completely entranced and unable to control your moans and groans.

tartaglia absolutely loves to obliterate his vulnerable angel whilst present in a meeting with the fatui. his fingers soaked in your weeping, slick cunt. oh his fingers were just— splendid. the ginger locked male had his eyes on you, smirking at your dumbfound figure. stuttering at every word pointed towards you. several eyebrows were raised at your contour— several except one. he definitely enjoyed the discomfort and embarrassment he caused you, relishing the sight of your distress. plummeting his finger even more into your cunt, soaked with your juices. you were so cute like this, weren't you? he was entranced by your vulnerability, savouring the moment as you struggled to keep your composure. his fingers were like a brush, painting over your innermost depths, as he delighted in your blissful expression.

scaramouche find the idea of completely ravaging your blubbery cunt on his chair. his angry red tip nibbing your clit, stimulating the nerves which transported pure pleasure and euphoria. his fingers delicately touching every curve and fold of your body, as his tongue gently teased and tantalized with pleasure, sent shivers of delight down your spine. degrading your every breath and move. each knot made was a step closer to your release, but knowing the male, he would extract his fingers right then and there. leaving you with no choice but to beg for it. his actions were relentless, forcing you to succumb to his every desire, while knowing no matter how much you begged, the pleasure would be denied until he deemed it was time.

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eyesxxyou · 6 months

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i need more gladiator miguel that was SO GOOD OMG

I gotcha cuz I've definitely got more ideas

💾 gladiator!Miguel x reader

❝ warnings ❞ sex, lots of sex, a little angst at the end

Gladiator!Miguel who you soon after hired to be a bodyguard for you to keep him close. He’s a good man, a strong one, and talented with a sword. You’d want no one else protecting you.

Gladiator!Miguel who is in attendance with you everywhere. In your bed chambers, in your bath house. So many opportunities with you alone, so many times he’s gotten to fuck you without any eyes nearby to catch the two of you in the act. You’re so good at tempting him, with sultry eyes and gently parted lips as you stand in the buttermilk waters of your bath and coax him closer.

You end up leaning against the edge of the bath with one leg over his shoulder and the other between his legs as he shoves his cock in and out of your pretty, tight hole. He claims it as his own, that unused entrance of yours as tight as a vice around him, and you let him because you want to be his so desperately.

“Fuck– Miguel! Please…right there.” You whimper as he pounds you in and leaves you trembling. You always get so hot looking at him, a big, hairy many like himself, testosterone so obviously pumping hard through his veins. You need him all the time.

Gladiator!Miguel who attempts to teach you how to wrestle upon your request. You do it in your palace garden where the grass and dirt would serve as a cushion for your many falls and defeats. And though you genuinely wanted to learn the art form of fighting, the two of you with your hands all over each other meant it wasn't long before you were face down in the flowers and Miguel was on top of you.

It was risky to do it in the garden where anyone could come through and see Miguel on top of you and your robes shoved up your waist. His hands pinned your wrists to the Earth and he fucked you with such vigor that anyone coming by would have mistaked it for an unwilling assault upon your body.

You had to keep quiet, even as he spread your ass so he could watch the way his fat cock disappeared inside you, even as he forced you to fuck yourself on him. “Take what you need, mi corazón.” He murmured in your ear, drunk off your soft body as his large hands grasped at your exposed flesh.

Gladiator!Miguel who needs his prince/princess to cum first always. You’re pampered, spoiled. You deserve to go first to ensure you’re properly satisfied by the end of it. It’s not like it’s a difficult task and the payoff is always so satisfying as he watches you make a mess of yourself, quivering with satisfaction beneath him as he fucks you into oblivion.

Gladiator!Miguel who genuinely teaches you how to swordfight. He thinks it’s a good skill to have. In the case that you are ever alone, you must be able to defend yourself. Besides you being next in line for the throne, you’re pretty, and there are many people in this world who’d like to take advantage of you.

Gladiator!Miguel who teaches you a whole plethora of things, how to fight, how to hunt, how to tie knots, etc. With each skill you’re taught, the more you feel yourself falling for him and him falling for you. In another world, the two of you could be together. In another world, a relationship like yours would be okay but you were expected to marry nobility and he was a simple gladiator.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #gladiator!au #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #spiderman 2099

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 5 months

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Let them hear (Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader)

synopsis: Daemon had never shied away from teasing you in public. No matter the setting. Today you feel up for revenge.

warnings: PWP, smut, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, afab reader

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ajthefujoshi @schniiipsel

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: @bl4ckph0enix, @happilyhertale and I came up with the idea of sucking Daemon off during a council meeting on discord and we decided to each write a story for it to see what comes out of it with each of us. You two are so sick for this idea and I love you so much for it!❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

When a match had been made between you and the rogue prince, the romance between the two of you burned bright and very passionate. He was rarely seen without you by his side and the other way around as well. You always hung onto his arm, holding him tight to your body as you walked and talked. Hanging onto every single word that left his beautiful lips. Those lips that you never ever wished to leave yours when you are kissing in your chambers at night. Yet every night was followed by a morning in which your ways would need to part for at least a couple of hours so you could attend the important matters that your station postulated. All of it left little time for the two of you to spend together. Less than you would have wished for at least. In truth you still took most of the day for yourselves and when you fell asleep at night you would never have to wait to crawl into each other’s tight embrace. In truth all the time in the world spent together could not be enough for the two of you.

Though there was a time during those duties that did allow you to spend some time near each other. The small council meetings were boring as anything, making them very hard to listen too already. However when your aforementioned husband dedicated most of his time to additionally tease you under the table, staying focused got so much more harder. All that you could pay attention to was the way his large, rough hand ran over the inside of your thighs, teasing the seam of your small cloths. Even going as far as to push his fingers inside of you. Slowly pumping them in and out as he stretches you out. Without fail it would get you worked up and flustered every single time. Pulling him to the next free, hidden enough space to ride him into oblivion.

You play along with his games willingly like the good, little wife he knows you to be and if it is just for the knowing and unamused looks Otto Hightower shoots at the two of you. He was just a cunt. You understood why your husband lived to irritate the man. Until one day, Daemon gets what was coming for him the second he started this game.

Once more his hand finds his hand under your skirts, but this time instead of flushing and lowering your head, you catch his wrist and push it away. A challenging look in your eyes as his confused lilac ones meet yours. Using the moment of the other men being distracted with their conversation about only the gods know what, you swiftly slide down the chair to your knees and hide away under the table, between his legs.

“What do you think you are doing?” He bows down to whisper to you, but you only hush him with a finger to your lips and a mischievous smirk, telling him to lean back again.

With that action alone the dynamic between you changed. You could see in his barely contained face you are in charge now. A warm feeling spreads deep in your chest at the look of his reddened cheeks. Immediately you put that changed dynamic to good use, by feathering touches all over his thighs. Though he takes most of that foreplay off your hands as the predicament you are in makes him incredibly hard already. So you don´t waste any more time, but free his hardened length, lick the palm of your hand and pump him a couple of times. Across the table Otto Hightower was eyeing Daemon critically already. Proving once more, that even if no one else is paying attention, he is.

Watching Daemon´s head fall against the back of the chair and his lips parting to make way for his staggering breaths. Settling your hand at the base of his cock, you place a few kisses to his tip until you hear a tiny whimper from above. Biting back a smile you finally take him into your mouth. Only a little at first and then more and more with every time you moved your head down. Setting an almost torturingly slow pace, you add a rhythm to your head bobbing, that has your husbands hips meeting your lips. Your mouth feels so good around him. So warm and wet, your cunt is still better, but this is as close to heaven as he can get. Your breathing grows ragged now as well, wishing for nothing more than to be alone with Daemon in this moments. You get pulled from your thoughts by Daemons cock hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best not to make any gagging sounds to give you away you swallow heavily, barely managing to keep yourself together. Daemon on the other hand is a lot more careless. Groaning quietly as he pleases and as if you two where the only two people in the room. Letting him pop out of your mouth for a moment to calm your breathing, your hands keep stroking his length. One at the base, playing with his stones and the other teasing the tip. The conversation around you begins to quieten down as the meeting wraps up, meaning you needed to be even more careful.

“Shh. You need to be quiet or they will hear.” You whisper up at Daemon.

“So, let them.” He murmurs his answer back at you. Almost a low growl really. He knows it sends a shock of desire through your body whenever he does. He sounds so primal, you can´t help it and so your lips wrap around his cock again. His fingers thread into your hair, a dull pain driving through your skull as he pulls at the tresses. You hold back another whimper, yet his sounds of pleasure become more obvious by the second. Pulling a look or two towards him, but none of the council members say anything. They know better than to cross the rogue prince.

Daemon pulls you in closer by your hair, attempting to get back his control over you, but you pull away your head once more. Lightly slapping his inner thigh a couple of times. You both know it doesn´t hurt him, but it gets your point across. You were the one in control, at least for now.

Coming up from your hiding place again you sit back down just in time to grab his cock again in your hand to ward off his disappointed gaze and for the meeting to wrap up. One after another the lords at the big table say there farewells Until it is only the two of you, the hand and Viserys left.

“Are you not going to join us?” Your husbands older brother asks, none the wiser to the situation mere inches away from you.

“We will be with you soon, brother. My dear lady wife and I have something important to discuss first.” Daemon gives you a stern look. Signaling that your time in charge was coming to a close.

The king nods and then pulls lord Hightower with him, but not before he can make one of his remarks.

“I am sure you and your wife have pressing matters to discuss. I do hope everything is fine between the two of you. It would be a shame to see such a young marriage fail so soon.”

“I thank you for your concern, your lordship. Though I can assure you that nothing of the sort will be happening any time soon.” You mime the ever dutiful wife. Glad to see the two men leave, letting the heavy door fall close with a thud as they resume their conversation.

Once you are all alone in the big council room, Daemon is quick to bend you over the table. Opening his trousers and pulling them down along with his small clothes. Then he bunches your skirts around your hips. Almost ripping your small clothes in the process of getting them out of the way. A desperate whimper leaves your lips as he delivers a few generous spanks to your behind.

“You are such a naughty girl.” He growls into your ear. “Cannot even keep your fingers off me for a whole council meeting, can you? You are that needy?”

“I just did what you always do to me.” Your voice is weak from the force behind the impact of his rough hands against your jiggling flesh.

“Ah, that´s how it is. I am sure you can handle the consequences for such a behavior too then.” Daemon delivers another set of slaps to the reddened skin of your ass. Grabbing your hips in a bruising grip, he enters your already dripping core in one swift push. The movement so slow, that you can feel every inch dragging against your walls as he enters you. When he bottoms out, his large frame presses you into the edge of the table. The pain of the edge of the hard wood and the stretch of your inner walls mixing with the arousal of the moment, swirling in the depths of your stomach to send a fire of need through your veins and setting every nerve ending alight with it.

“Daemon!” You cry out, wanting him to start moving already. The attempt to move your hips against his yourself is futile as your body is entirely trapped in its position.

“Not my name, love. You know how to address me if you want something.” You can practically hear the smug smirk in his voice.

“My king, please. I need you to fuck me.” Your breathy plea reaches his ears.

“Anything my queen wishes.” Daemon barely finishes the sentence before he sets a fast paced rhythm with his thrusts. His hips rolling perfectly to create a slapping sound every time your skin meets. One of your husbands hands loosens from your hips and wanders up to the middle of your back to push you onto the table further, securing you on place even more as he leans over you. This simple action alone elicits the most desperate moans from your lungs. His breath fans over your ear as he presses hot, wet kisses to your skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside of me.” Leaning your upper body up, you stretch your neck back, overcome by the desire to feel his lips on yours. Knowing what you want, Daemon immediately leans down to give you what you need. His warm lips take yours in a confident, almost aggressive touch, that makes your chest glow with a familiar warmth. Pulling yet a louder moan from you as one of his hand grab at your breasts over your dress. Leaning up further, your tongue meets his in a dance for dominance.

Right in that moment you feel a gust of air hit your chest. Daemon had pulled down and almost ripped the front of your dress. His hands now squeezing and lightly slapping your tits, before parting from the kiss and pushing you down with the same hand to the back once more. The pace with which he thrusts into you becomes faster and sloppier. You know he is close and you are too. Sneaking one of your hands down to rub tight circles into your pearl, you make sure to bring yourself there the rest of the way. The edge of your climax rapidly comes closer under his and your own ministrations. Flicking at your sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three more times, your velvety walls start to flutter around Daemon's cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Whole body shaking from the pleasurable contractions, loud and uncontrollable moans forcing their way out of your lungs, you pull your husband over the cliff with you.

His hips stutter in their fast thrusts, the swiftness of their rolling motion becoming rougher until he buried himself as deep inside of you as he possibly can. The tip of his length is kissing your cervix as he spills his hot seed directly into your womb with one last groan of your name. It takes a while to recover from that intense encounter.

After you have finally calmed your breaths and fixed your clothing, you give your husband the most admiring look he has ever seen on any person.

"Do you believe anyone suspected anything? Aside from the hand?" You ask as you wrap your arms around Daemon's middle and look up at him. Waiting for another one of his kisses.

He gives in almost instantly. Pressing his lips to yours. This kiss is much more languid and loving compared to the last one, which was pure lust and passion.

"I am sure they did. Yet again a dragon does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep." He murmurs against your slightly swollen lips. Laying an arm around you, to lead you out of the room.

#prince daemon #prince daemon targaryen #daemon #daemon targaryen #the rogue prince #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon x reader #prince daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader

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optimizche · 2 years

Text

Oblivion (Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader)

Author's note: Reader is the youngest child of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower.

Warnings: Incest, Somnophilia, Smut.

It is a light, rare Arbor that was served at the feast to celebrate the third wedding anniversary of your older siblings King Aegon and Queen Helaena that lulls you to a deep and dreamless sleep. Perhaps you've had a cup too many.

Returning to your bedchambers, inebriated and giddy, you asked your handmaiden to draw you a bath before having her undress you and soak in the water scented with rose and lavender oils. After your bath, you crawled into your bed, rejecting the light linen smallclothes your handmaiden had chosen for you for the night. It was a warm, summery night in King's Landing and you preferred to sleep bare beneath your silk sheets, sinking into a seemingly endless sleep moments after your head touched your pillow.

It doesn't take long for him to come.

Sneaking in through a concealed door within the walls of your chambers, your older brother, Aemond Targaryen finds you sleeping soundly.

His eye takes in the peace that is etched across your features, your full lips parted as you breathed quietly. Your long, dark hair spread like a halo around your head, something you inherited from your mother, Queen Mother Alicent Hightower. You were the only one amongst your siblings who had inherited dark hair instead of the silvery Targaryen mane.

A rare hint of a smile ghosts across Aemond's lips upon seeing your tranquility. Your precious innocence.

His little sister.

With deliberation, he slowly brushes a stray lock of your hair away from your face to better see you in the moonlight. Gods, you were angelic.

His touch did nothing to awaken you and his smile morphed into a smirk, the realisation that you were fast asleep that even his touch didn't rouse you. On any other night, you were acutely perceptive to his touches...

Perhaps it is the wine, Aemond mused, peeling away his own clothes until he was as bare as you. Hunger grew in him, his hands gently prying away the sheets you lay tangled in, crawling into your bed. Even the caress of the night air upon your bare skin did nothing to wake you up.

Let me see how long it takes, he wondered, starting to lay a path of kisses along your neck, smiling at the hitch in your breath.

He hummed against your breast, drawing your creamy skin between his lips to suck a bruise. Adding to the smattering of marks he always left behind.

Nipples hardening under the ceaseless circling of his calloused thumbs, you shifted, a quiet moan leaving your lips as your legs fell open to him.

"Do you dream of me, little sister?" he asked, before drawing the taut peak of your breast into his mouth. Hearing your sigh was answer enough for him, his hands running along your slender thighs, spreading them open.

Tendrils of pleasure slowly bloomed in the pit of your belly, arousal starting to pool between your aching folds. Aemond moaned at the growing scent of your sweetness, drawing from your breasts to admire how your nipples glistened with his saliva in the moonlight.

Still, you remained firmly in the realm of oblivion, letting him kiss his path along your waist. Lower and lower, until...

"Mmm..."

He was intoxicated by the taste of you, boldly licking into your cunt, his eye never leaving your face.

Features contorted into an almost agonized expression, he adored the way you bit your lip, a frown furrowing your brows. Your chest rose and fell in sharp breaths, his mouth ravenous against you. Drinking every drop of arousal he could coax out of you. He could feel you breaking, your moans increasingly desperate, your body on the very brink...

Suddenly, your eyelids fluttered open and you gasped, startled. Aemond's hands caught your flailing wrists in an instant and he drew reluctantly away from between your legs.

"Hush, little one, it is only me."

"A-Aemond..." you breathed before he was kissing you awake, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Opening for him in submission, you let him kiss you with a ferocity that came naturally to him. Yielding to him entirely.

Once you had calmed, he released your wrists, your mouths breaking away, panting. Immediately, your hands flew to the patch covering his lost eye to discard it, revealing the sapphire underneath it.

Cupping his face, you kissed the scarred flesh around the jewel before finding his lips again.

He met you again, in a deeper, more languid kiss, the two of you moaning in unison. Yearning to become one.

"Please," you begged. "I need you inside me..."

He slid into you with ease, all the way to the hilt. Tears sprang into your eyes at the sudden fullness, your head falling back against the pillow.

You drew him into the enclosure of your arms, something that had been his sanctuary for years.

"Little dove," he groaned into your ear, and the quiet break in his resolve was evident in his voice. And in the frantic pace he had set.

You knew that he was only ever this desperate and wanting for you. No one else.

And you craved him equally.

"I'm right here, Aemond. I'm yours..."

He snarled, plunging unceasingly into your velvety walls, the precision and swiftness startling you. There'd be time for gentle lovemaking until the dawn broke. But for now, you both were in great need of completion.

Clutching at his shoulders, you braced for the impending crescendo that would shatter you both, chasing the feeling of euphoria with him.

"Look at me, little one..."

His words made you realise that in the midst of the pleasure, your eyes had fallen shut.

You met his gaze, your thumb running down the centre of his lower lip, mimicking a Valyrian wedding custom. He mirrored the gesture against your lip and you knew you both weren't going to be able to last much longer.

Hurriedly, you moved to kiss him, breaking first with a moan into his mouth.

He broke mere seconds later and you sighed at the feeling of him spilling so much into you...

Basking in the afterglow, you lay in his arms, tracing the High Valyrian alphabets spelling love into his chest right above his heart.

Aemond knew he'd have to leave when the morning came, but for this moment, the two of you had each other.

"Avy jorrāelan, byka mēre," he breathed, finally feeling a sense of peace.

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #slight somno #fluff #angst #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

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storm-driver · 4 months

Text

bear with me, kh3 rewrite where sora is guided by eraqus' keyblade to castle oblivion early on in the game, and he stumbles his way into the chamber of waking to find ven, brings him back to everyone else to let him rest and recover for a couple disney worlds, and after a few worlds, he's ready to go save aqua, and a whole "world of darkness" world appears on the map, and ventus is your party member the whole way through the world. him and sora can have a proper conversation about their weird af situation, ventus can bear witness to The Horrors that is the worlds plunging into darkness for almost a dozen years. anti-aqua can be the final boss and ventus gets unique dialogue while fighting her.

just think about it.

#kingdom hearts #stormy weather #in before i write this myself

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Dear author, if you are taking requests can I please get you an extremely rough and wild nsfw with jealous possessive Daemon x fem reader, where he makes her ride it into oblivion (add whatever kink you see fit) please?

Here you go, my friend. I hope this pleases you.

Warnings: Mention of injury, jealous and possessive behaviour, choking, spitting, smut. Word count: ~1100

Daemon’s mood is foul. His temper flares the moment he sees her place her favour onto the lance of that Lannister cunt. While their coupling isn’t public knowledge, she should know better than to entertain the attention of other men, lesser men.

The urge to jump the tilt and storm his way into the ladies court in order to seize her and remind her of who she belongs to is almost overwhelming. He knows he cannot though, so instead sets his sights keenly on his opponent as he sits atop his horse at the opposite end of the tiltyard. The red and gold of the Lannister caparison serves only to further his irritation. The sight of her wreath of flowers dangling from the base of the other man’s lance spurs him into action as he urges his horse to charge forward.

He notices the Lannister swing his lance slightly off target as he canters to meet him, an indication that he is experiencing difficulties and does not want to be hit. Daemon ignores this, striking him square in the breast plate with the tip of his weapon and causing him to fall from his horse with a sickening thud.

The horse master rushes towards the counter tilt. “He requested a mercy pass, Your Highness!”

Daemon lifts his helmet, watching with a smirk as the ground crew rally to help the Lannister Lord to his feet. “Did he now? How careless of me.”

He is badly winded and it is determined that his arret and grapper were not properly attached. The resulting blow from Daemon has likely broken his ribs and he will be unable to continue with the tourney.

Daemon dismounts from his horse with smug satisfaction and strides away from the tiltyard, but not before shooting her a pointed glare over his shoulder. The flicker of fearful recognition that crosses her face is all he needs to know she understands exactly what’s required of her. Don't keep me waiting.

He is stripped of his garniture and reclining in his quarters in his undershirt and breeches when he hears the timid knock at his chamber door.

“Come in.” He instructs flatly.

She enters, head bowed, a look of shy apprehension crosses her features. He feels a swell of pride at her obedience, she’d come just as soon as she could, just like he wanted. Such a shame he’s going to have to punish her for her brazen display at the tourney.

She stands before him, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, waiting for him to speak. He lets her linger in silence for a few moments, enjoying watching her squirm with discomfort. When she finally dares to look up and meet his eye he speaks.

“Have you grown tired of our arrangement?” He asks coldly.

“N-no!” She stammers, stepping forward, her eyes pleading.

He holds up a hand to stop her and she freezes in place, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to articulate what it is that she wants to say.

“Have you forgotten who it is you belong to?” His gaze is piercing as he glares at her from where he is seated.

“Of course I haven’t.” Her voice is meek and apologetic.

“Then tell me, little one, why the fuck you thought it was acceptable to give your favour to that Lannister cunt?!” His voice raises in anger as he interrogates her, his grip on the arms of the chair causing his knuckles to turn white.

Her lip trembles and for a moment he is sure she will cry, until her jaw sets in bratty defiance. “I couldn’t very well say no, could I?!” She snaps back, face hot with her own fury. “What would you have me do instead? You insist upon keeping me a secret!”

Incensed with rage he reaches forward, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist and pulling her into his lap. “Don’t you ever talk back to me, fucking brat!”

She squeals as he manhandles her to straddle him, forcing her skirts above her hips and tearing away the gusset of her smallclothes, before unlacing his breeches.

“You need a reminder of who it is you answer to.” He threatens.

His hand moves between her legs and she whimpers, bucking against him. He hums appreciatively at how slick with arousal she is already. Wanton slut.

He pulls his hand away, spitting into his palm and then spreading it through her folds and over his cock. Lining himself up with her entrance, he thrusts upwards, pulling her harshly downward with a steadying hand on her hip.

The stretch feels impossibly tight around him and he groans at the sudden warmth and wetness, delighting in the way she gasps and clutches desperately at his shoulders.

“Not so eager to answer back now you’re stuffed full of my cock, are you?” He snarls, his grip on her hip tightens, using it to aid his movements up into her. His other hand moves to wrap around her throat, squeezing at the sides. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are wide, her face reddening from the restricted blood flow as she whimpers at the brutal pace he has set.

“You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” His fingertips press deeper into the flesh of her neck.

She does her best to nod, clenching around him as he continues to drive up into her over and over.

“Say it.” He hisses, brow furrowing with exertion, stones aching at the way she convulses with each movement.

“I-I am yours.” She stutters breathlessly.

“And could that Lannister twat fuck you like this?” He punctuates his question by tugging her harder and faster against him.

“Just you, only you…” The words tumble from her lips like a chant as her eyes grow glassy.

“Don’t look away.” Daemon orders in a husky whisper.

The only sounds in the room are their combined pants and the slap of flesh on flesh, until finally the heat of his climax licks along his spine and through his balls, he pulls her flush against him as he empties himself inside of her.

She collapses against him and he holds her to his chest as he recovers, stroking his hands softly up and down her back.

“You know,” He says, after a few minutes pass by in silence, “We needn’t keep this a secret forever. I could make you my wife.”

He feels her smile against the scarred flesh of his neck. “Are you saying you love me, Daemon Targaryen?”

He chuckles, delivering a playful swat to her backside. “Don’t push your luck.”

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #prince daemon targaryen #the rogue prince #daemon #daemon stannies #pro daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen fan fiction #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fan fic #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fan fiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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bjornbauerart · 1 year

Photo

Immutable - acrylic on Dibond, 100cm x 70cm

Digital interfaces have a profound impact on our perspective, but even when they are used to skew what we perceive in a certain direction, the truth does not bend. My hope is that we learn to dedicate our use of technology to be more truthful.

Asynchronous Transfer - acrylic on Dibond, 100cm x 70cm

More and more of our communication passes through digital conduits, and this progress is an amazing accomplishment, but it reaffirms the preciousness of human interaction in physical space. It’s harder to talk past each other or maintain an airtight echo chamber when we can look one another in the eye.

Bleeding Edge - acrylic on Dibond, 100cm x 70cm

It’s amazing to witness how far our innovations can go, but at what cost do we keep pushing forward? Who gets cut out in the process? We have to remember that the heartbeat driving us to the furthest reaches of technological discovery is still fundamentally human, and we will only survive if we look out for each other.

Pulsar - acrylic on Dibond, 100cm x 70cm

What if we could gather up all of these digital spaces that absorb our attention and blow them to oblivion? Would we be able to go back to the way we were before? If we chose to rebuild it all again, would we do it with the knowledge that we must hold our shared humanity sacred?

Torrent - acrylic on Dibond, 100cm x 70cm

There is beauty in distortion. Look no further than what artists create in world of electronic music. Noise can be sculpted into monumental forms. Electrical currents can be pushed into vistas of controlled chaos. But ultimately even these extreme expressions begin to mirror the natural world, like clouds passing through the sky.

These are my thoughts, but part of the beauty of abstract art is its inherent subjectivity. What do they remind you of? What feelings do they provoke?

Thank you for looking.

https://bjornbauerart.com/

Paintings available to purchase here: https://www.singulart.com/en/artist/bj%C3%B6rn-bauer-16979

#painting #abstract #abstraction #abstraktekunst #abstraktemalerei #artworks #arte #contemporaryart #contemporarypainting #artists on tumblr

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helgafolk618 · 26 days

Text

🪴Hilda and the Grass Sword AU🗡

[Hildelion approaches Twig, petting him]

Hidelion: This impostor keeps saying she's me. Why don't you set things straight and tell her who the real Hilda is?

[Twig quickly runs up to Hilda and hides behind her, looking at Hildelion waringly]

Hildelion: What?

Hilda: Yeah, I don't know who you are...

*🪴🪴🪴*

More info about this AU:

PART 1: THE GRASS SWORD

As Hilda, Frida, and Kaisa ventured into the labyrinthine first chamber of Matilda Pilqvist's maze, they encountered an unexpected adversary. A plant creature loomed before them, prompting Hilda to grasp a sword she discovered in the vicinity. In this AU, the weapon in question is none other than the Grass Sword. With a swift motion, Hilda cleaved through the lock that barred their way, all without the help of Frida. "That's a really freakish sword," Kaisa said, eyeing the blade with a mix of awe and apprehension.

The Grass Sword was abandoned in the room as the trio pressed on, the episode unfolding as normal.

In the aftermath of their adventure, Hilda lauded Tildy for her exceptional magical prowess, particularly in the creation of the Grass Sword. Tildy, however, confessed to no recollection of such a feat, but she attributed the lapse to her old age. Hilda, ever respectful, returned the sword to Tildy, who intended to restore it to its rightful place within her maze.

That night, Hilda's sleep was deep and undisturbed. Yet, next morning revealed a curious anomaly: blades of grass encircled her wrist. It seemed the Grass Sword had claimed her as its new master. The thought of her Mum's potential reaction sent a shiver down her spine—Johanna would surely ground her indefinitely. Thus, Hilda resolved to conceal the sword, which is easy for her since she usually wears long sleeves anyways. She signed a confidentiality form with Alfur, permitting him to document the sword's existence, albeit discreetly.

When the Kraken incident led to Hilda getting grounded, she breathed a sigh of relief; atleast Johanna had not noticed her Grass Sword. Unbeknownst to Hilda, it would be a long time before the sword would grace her presence again.

S2E8, "The Fifty-Year Night," found Hilda meddling with the fabric of time. Her goal was simple: to cement the love between Ostenfeld and Tildy in that one fateful night. Alas, Time Worms hate deviations from set-in-stone time. As one such creature wreaked havoc in the nightclub, devouring alternate realities of Ostenfeld, it also targeted the past incarnation of Hilda. Defying the warnings of her future self, Hilda unsheathed the Grass Sword and lunged at the Time Worm. The ensuing struggle saw the sword expand, enveloping her arm in a desperate bid to subdue the beast (like Finn not letting his father escape in "Escape From The Citadel").

The attempt failed. The Grass Sword loosened its grip, severing from Hilda's arm (her arm itself is fine though). The future Hilda met her end within the maw of the Time Worm, which then consumed the remains of the Grass Sword and then turned its appetite towards the present Hilda. In a leap of faith, she plunged into a time portal, narrowly escaping the same fate.

The episode, and subsequently Season 2 and the movie, progressses and finishes as normal, yet what was happening to the Time Worm was far from that at all.

The Ostenfeld and Hilda alternates, trapped within the Time Worm, oscillated between being and non-being, ultimately glitching out to oblivion. The Grass Sword, once a formidable mass, reverted to its original form and impaled the past Hilda. It thought that it had found its way back to their master, but they were confronted with a duplicate of itself. The Grass Demon within the sword emerged, intent on eradicating the doppelgänger. It enveloped past Hilda in a cocoon, initiating a metamorphosis.

Some time after "The Fifty Year Night," the Time Worm, disoriented by the Grass Demon's transformation, flitted erratically across epochs. It traveled to a future that was the timeskip/epilogue of the movie, and close to the onset of Season 3.

Out in the wilderness, the Time Worm fainted on a clearing in the Great Forest. Within the creature, a mysterious force cleaved its way to freedom, leading to the creature's demise. From its remains emerged a figure of grass, gradually assuming a more familiar form—a form that has a beret, a scarf, and an insatiable thirst for adventure.

Thus, Hildelion came into being.

*🪴🪴🪴*

Thanks for reading! I don't have a fanfic in mind at the moment; this AU was just for fun. I'll make a part two soon focusing on Hildelion herself. 💙

>:D

#hilda the series #hilda netflix #hilda #hilda fanart #adventure time fern #hilda au #helgafolk fanart #helgafolk fanfic

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helaelaemond · 8 months

Note

Hello 💜 Can we please get someone bold enough to sneak into Aemond's chambers (maybe a lady-in-waiting, servant, writer's choice) and smutty shenanigans ensue?? 👀

tysm for the prompt my angel!!

Pairing: Aemond x servant!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: You have had one moment of passion with Prince Aemond before, and you find yourself wanting another. So you go to his chambers, and find him willing. Wanting. - Heterosexual sex, vaginal sex, possessive Aemond

Warnings: none

It's late, too late for you to be anywhere but your own bed. Although the lights outside have faded to black, there is a fire between your thighs, and you seek the one who has sparked it.

It is the elder brother known for depravity. He takes what he wants and doesn't care for the whims of his targets. The young brother isn't like that, though. When he had first taken you roughly by the throat and pinned you to the wall, he had waited for you to say yes before continuing. Soon, he had you not just consenting but begging.

So that's why you slip into the prince's chamber under the guise of a full plate and flagon of wine. It's a sweet pink wine, less strong than the Arbour red his brother seeks oblivion with. Prince Aemond is sat in front of the great fireplace, and he turns his head to watch you slip in. His eye is fixed on you as you set the food down on the table and pour a cup of wine. With your gaze on the floor, you walk over to him and present it to him.

"I did not summon you." His voice is quiet. He looks at the cup, and then back at your face. He doesn't take it.

"No, my prince, you didn't." His voice is like silk over your skin, slipping across it and holding you fast.

"Then why did you come?"

"To serve."

His lips quirk up at that. "Try again."

Your eyes flick up to meet his. His silver hair almost looks gold in the light of the flames. "To take."

"Hmm."

With more boldness than you actually feel, you raise the cup brought for him to your own lips, and take a long sip.

"Is it just my wine you wish to take?" he asks.

You lick your lips. "What else are you willing to give?"

"Well, that's the thing about taking, isn't it? It can't be taken if it's freely given."

You try to hide your grin. Prince Aemond thinks he is far cleverer than he actually is. The folly of those born to high stations is misplaced confidence, you think. They always believe themselves to be the wisest and most intelligent people in any room they occupy. But they don't know anything, not really. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'd say you thoroughly took what was freely given."

Prince Aemond reaches out a hand and touches your skirt. "It matters not whether it was freely given or otherwise. As you said, you come here to serve."

"I am a servant, not a slave," you reply as you take a step back.

He watches you intently. "You think there is a difference?"

"You think there is not?"

"I still have my free will, my prince."

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"So if you wished to leave, you would, even if I commanded you to stay?" He stands up and takes a step towards you.

You have to tilt your chin up to look at him. "Why would you command me to stay?"

"For the same reason you came in the first place."

"What if I've changed my mind?"

He gently grasps your chin and brings his face closer to yours. You hate how being this close to him makes your eyes close. "Then we return to the matter of taking what is not freely given."

"I don't think you'd do that to me," you breathe. "You are not your brother."

"Hmm. Do you wish I was?"

"Do you wish that?"

His touch is rougher. Suddenly, he spins you in his arms and the cup of wine goes flying from your hands and clatters on the floor. Some spills into the fire, and it spits angrily. The prince's arms wrap around you possessively to pull your back against his chest. "You forget yourself, wench."

"I'm no wench," you remind him smugly. "You don't pay me for my cunt."

When he hisses against your ear, you press back against him. "Perhaps I should. Perhaps then you would remember your place."

"And what is my place, my prince?" You cover his hands with your own, and grasp his fingers through yours. It's satisfying how quickly he welcomes the touch.

"To not ask questions."

You laugh breathlessly. Against your backside, you can feel something hard press between you. He's as eager as a virgin. He was like that last time, too. A few exchanged words, one heated embrace, and he was aching. Perhaps he's neglected, touch starved. Ladies of the court are too afraid to approach him, and servants can't even look upon his face. It is lonely, perhaps, to be feared like this. Fear has always made you wet.

"You think I'm funny?" he asks between wet kisses to your neck. One hand moves to press between your legs over your linen uniform. The other tears off the cap you wear, and your hair falls free.

"I think you're needier than any man I've ever had before."

He bites the seam of your neck and shoulder. "You have other men?"

His attentions make your eyes close. "Of course. My favourite is one of the stable hands. He brings me flowers."

"I shall cut off his hands so he can do it no longer."

"Why?" you ask breathlessly. He is grinding hard against you now, rubbing his cock to your backside in steady thrusts that make you clench desperately around nothing. "Are you going to bring me flowers instead?"

"No." With one hand still applying pressure between your legs, the other roughly grabs your jaw and turns you to catch his deep kiss. It's messy, possessive, deep. He can taste the sweet wine on your tongue. You taste the fire on his. He groans between sloppy kisses. "But that doesn't mean someone else can."

Kisses have always been your weakness. You can't come without them. Prince Aemond found that out last time. Now, they're his weapon. Suddenly his hands are gone from you and he clasps them behind his back, and he seems to relish how quickly you turn around to properly face him and grab him. This time, it's your arms that hold him close - one is thrown around his neck to drag him down to you, and the other is around his narrow waist. He's more slender than you, and sharper, too. Last time, he swore how much he liked that you were soft and warm for him.

His breathing is raggedy against your intense kisses. His voice is no louder than a whisper. "Take off your fucking uniform."

Without missing a beat, you reply, "take it off for me."

That makes his head jerk back, and you see him bite his lip. He looks conflicted as he stares down at you with his one good eye. How much you want to see him without his eye patch. But that is the line he has drawn - that is something he will not share with you. Still, after a moment, he obeys you, and pulls off the red overdress, and then the pale shift beneath.

"No undergarments?" he murmurs as you stand bare before him, only your stockings and shoes still on. You wear the stockings that you paid a gold dragon for - there are silk ribbons at the top to keep them clinging to your thighs, and they're blue. Everyone knows a sapphire has replaced Prince Aemond's eye.

"I'd hoped to see my stable man," you lie.

It makes his lip twitch, and he shoves you roughly to the table where the food is long forgotten. "I'll cut off his cock, too."

"You want to be the only one who fucks me, my prince?"

"What did I tell you about questions?" As he gives you another burning kiss, he fumbles with his breeches. You hop onto the table and spread your legs wide for him, and as he sinks into you, you play with yourself.

"Oh, fuck!" you whine. He fits into you like he was made for you.

The mighty Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, lord of the skies, is reduced to a panting mess between your thighs. "You want this?"

"Yes!" The reply is ripped from you before you even have time to think. He holds your hips as he fucks you on the table. In the quiet chamber, the sound of wet skin slapping is obscene, especially mingled with his deep grunts and your high sighs. "Kiss me! Please!"

The prince doesn't. Instead, he wraps one hand around your throat again - how much he loves to do that, you think - and makes you lie back on the table. It's hard and uncomfortable, and you have to arch your spine to be comfortable. The change in angle is good, though. It means he can be faster, harder, deeper. With you where he wants you, he runs his hand to your chest and palms your breast hard. Then, he does kiss you, but not where you want him. His lips find your neck again, and then your shoulder. When he bites your collarbone, you wrap your legs around his hips.

What a sight you must be. How much you'd like to watch this, you think - you completely bare, the prince fully clothed. Even his hair is still worn half-up. Enough is loose to spill onto your chest when he suckles on your breast, though. It'll bruise, no doubt. Prince Aemond will never bring you flowers, but he'll give you blooms under your skin.

He pounds into you relentlessly. When he stands upright, he tries to push away your hand and drive the pleasure himself.

"You don't do it right," you whine, slapping his hand.

"Show me."

"No. Just- shit! Just keep fucking- oh, Gods, just keep fucking me!"

"Show me."

He's so demanding, so determined to learn. So as he pounds his cock into your cunt, you let his hand cover yours over your clit as you rub the flat of your fingers hard and fast. It's not gentle or teasing, not careful - it's hard, pushing yourself between your digits and the bones beneath. A testament to how high he's pushing you.

"I've got it," he grunts.

You fling your arms over your head and let him take over. "Harder," you moan. He obeys. But he's afraid of hurting you. "Harder!"

He glances up at your face with uncertainty in his eye.

"Fucking harder, my prince!" When his fingers are hard enough to bruise, you cry out in approval. "Yes! Yes, just like that! Oh, gods- don't- don't stop!"

The tightness of impeding completion scurries up and down your thighs until they're tight and heavy with it, and your stomach aches. It's coming quickly, but no matter how good he is, how attentive, there's something more you need.

Your body's response to his harsh ministrations pushes him over the edge first. He barely pulls out in time to come across your hip. He pants and groans, his seed as white as his hair. But he's good to you, and even as his orgasm makes his eye roll back and stomach tense and thighs shake, he rubs your cunt fiercely. There's incredible self control in the way he doesn't falter in the rhythm you set together.

"Kiss me!" you beg. The sight and sound of his completion is almost enough to push you over the edge, but you need that pressure, you need that taste, you need-

His mouth takes yours roughly again. It's all lips and tongue and teeth, as hard here as his hand between your legs. It chokes you, steals your breath, blinds you. When you come, you scream for the gods. He rubs you harshly through it, kissing you as you writhe and squirm, as your legs tense and clutch him closer.

"Fuck!" you cry. Tears leak from your eyes. "Stop, stop!"

Prince Aemond stills his hand but keeps it pressed against you. You're glad for the pressure. "I can feel your heart racing here."

You moan softly, and laugh. "Yes, my prince. There's a heartbeat between your thighs, too."

You stretch on the tabletop, and watch as he tucks himself back into his breeches. There's the glisten of seed on his cock still, and you wish he'd let you suck him clean. Instead, you catch his spend on your hip, and trace small patterns with it. He glances at you and sees you lick your finger clean.

"Don't do that."

"Mm. Why not?"

"It is filth."

"It is dragonseed. Is that not sacred?"

He snorts. But still, when you pull him down to kiss warmly, he doesn't protest. "Mmph. It's bitter."

You smile against his lips. "Then eat more fruit. Be sweeter for me."

Prince Aemond is more tender with you this time. Last time, he had seemed ashamed for what you had shared together, and he had sent you quickly from his chambers. This time, though, he enjoys kissing you. He touches the bruises his lips left in moments of passion, and he leaves you only to find a damp cloth to wipe off his spend.

"You would make a fine servant," you giggle as he cleans you. You're still lying back on the table. Maybe when he dines here with his mother and sister tomorrow, he'll think of fucking you again. "So dutiful."

"And you would make a fine lady," he murmurs. "So brazen."

"Do you like your ladies brazen?"

He answers quickly and quietly. "No. But I like you."

Of all the obscene moments you've shared with him, this is the one that makes you blush. "Well then, it is good I was born low, and you were born high. If this is the only way I can have you, so be it."

"You think you have me?" he asks, his brow arched.

You grin up at him, and hold his sweaty hand. "Certainly. I have taken you, after all."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #mine #ewan mitchell #ask #arcielee

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unreadpoppy · 1 month

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Fic recs

In light of some stuff I saw, I decided to make this post to briefly talk about some fics I really like and recommend them. All are BG3 related and most are Raphael. Also, there's some authors that write a lot of great fics, I'll try to keep one fic per author or else we'll be here forever (but definetly go check everyone and their other works out!)

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Cheerful Oblivion by @sassyandsodone - Read the tags before reading this but Love me dark stuff, the writing is amazing (legitimetly gasped at a few points) and the mix of Tav not remembering what happened and the dehumanization aspects were the cherry on top. It

I Don't Think About You Anymore (But I don't think about you any less) by @sky-kiss - This fic put me in a lot of different feels, ESPECIALLY SAD (which i do like, love when stuff makes me feel) and the ending was unexpected to me but it made it all worth it. Shed a tear or two

Devil's Debauchery by ChildofYugotth - One of the first fics I read on the Raphael tag, the first chapter lives in my mind rent free for many, many days, and I really like how the three chapters kinda go like regular raphael, haarlep and then ascended fiend, like a progression. Also read the tags.

Fallen in Flame by @cambion-companion - Love the dynamic between the two characters and how their relationship developed and the conflicting feeling that Tav has of like, being an aasimar and dealing with a devil

The Devil that knows you by @timesthatneverwere - Cat!Tav was not something I knew I needed before reading this. The relationship between Tav, Raphael and even Haarlep in this one is VERY interesting to me (and has lowkey inspired me some times) and I love seeing Raphael keeping secrets and manipulating people (also i have to mention, this fic gave us the mephisto fuck chamber)

Let the dream begin by DiscordsMuse - POTO inspired, this has hit me in the feels with relating to Morrigans struggles of feeling rejected, and honestly, Raphael as the Phantom was amazing.

finirà bene by @inaconstantstateofchange - A Halsin/Astarion/Tav one for a change, this is such an interesting and heartbreaking concept, but there's also this sense of mystery that I think is really well done. Also, beware the ANGST

Her soul will burn all the way down by khapikat222 - Read the tags, another dark fic that I loved, and this one had this manipulation and fucking with someone's fears that I really liked. Also, props to the author for making the lullaby fit, it was a great cherry on top.

Baldur's gate 3 infernal oneshots by @hrefna-the-raven - chapters 1-4 are a little story between Raphael and Tav that I really liked. The dynamic of raphael being more protective and the cat and mouse analogies were really fun!

The Intimacy of Pain by @bearhugsandshrugs - This is an Abdirak/Tav fic which I found so delightfully good, like the descriptions of how Tav was feeling and the mix of pleasure and pain were really well done

The Devil's Hour by @adarlingwrites - Also one of the first fics in the tag that I read, and what made me like OC x Canon, love the complicated but also interesting to read relationship between Fortune and Raphael, and another aspect that I really liked was Fortune's relationship with art and her parents being brought up like (like idk why but those two things really stuck with me)

Sweetening the Deal by @adevilyoudo - I have to admit that I'm a bit behind on some chapters BUT it's a great work, love seeing this side of Raphael of trying to convince Tav to take this deal (and in a way, almost confusing her even more) and I loved to see the side of the Emperor constantly being in Tav's head, I think it really conveyed well how that feels like when playing the game

The Devil You Share a Room with by @djmorn - Really fun concept and the shennanigans between the two in the beggining, when Tav is reluctant to share a room with Raphael, was a delight to read and really really fun.

Damaged by @dark-and-kawaii - This is a Rolan/Tav one, it's dark but it also tugged at my heart in a sad way, with Rolan feeling all these things and doing what he does because of the abuse he suffered and Tav also trying to understand that. Like aaaa it just, it's some good stuff this fic

Who's the Daddy by Follyfall - This fic is the definition of fun and a good time, I legitimetly laughed a lot while reading it. The writing is fun, the concept is hilarious and the relationship between Raphael, Tav, Haarlep, the baby and Wyll is really really fun.

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Also, keep in mind that there's A LOT of amazing writers in the bg3 community and i haven't read every single written work in the tags ever, so feel free to also reblog and add reccomendations of your own, or make your own post!

#fic rec #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3

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