#Rhea would do that and that's the worst part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arabellasleopardcoat · 11 months

Note

Rhaenyra x reader with incest if it hasn’t already been crossed out?

Baby teeth (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Cousins. You hate them or you love them. And Rhaenyra knows exactly how she feels about you.

Warnings: Incest. One use of Daddy.

Requested: Yes! The first one I fill, too. Here you go! I hope you enjoy this, since it’s my first time writing Rhaenyra.

There is something dangerous about the boredom of young maidens. That’s what Septa Marlow used to say. Rhaenyra never understood it properly. Not until now.

As you entered the Hall, hot in Daemon’s heels and with an expression of absolute contempt, she wondered what could possibly be your reason for coming. It was well known that you two weren’t friends. Viserys and Daemon made actual efforts to keep you apart, after a particularly nasty episode during your shared childhood.

Even at four years old, you were a nasty little thing. All the worst parts of Daemon and Rhea Royce, rolled into one. Rhaenyra had taken your favorite doll, arguing that she was a Princess and so deserved to have it. You had dug your little baby teeth into her calf so hard, she still wore the evidence of your wrath.

Back then, Rhaenyra had wailed for hours, as Viserys rubbed her back. Daemon had tried to get you to apologize, and you had just stuck out your little chin defiantly and refused to budge.

“It was mine.” You had said. Daemon, new to parenthood and not sure about how to handle you, had passed you to his wife. They had argued for hours, screaming for the whole Red Keep to hear. Daemon said your mother hadn’t raised you right. Rhea had screamed back that you had inherited his nasty nature.

If she had to choose a memory to define your personality, she would pick that afternoon. Demon child that you were, you had sat outside their room, playing with your doll. Rhaenyra never again forgot your triumphant smile.

About to become a married woman in less than two days, Rhaenyra finally understood what Septa Marlow meant about boredom of young girls. It was not achieved in an exemplary show of self reflection, no. Exempt as she was now from those silly lessons, Rhaenyra barely gave it more thought than she gave to her childhood bedtime stories.

It was from looking at you, that it started to make sense. Not because you were purity, respect, and shy subservience all incarnate, but because you weren’t. When Viserys had felt like a particularly invested parent, he used to compare you to her.

“Look at your cousin.” He would say. “Daemon tells me she is great at the harp. And she attends to the Sept daily.”

It had fueled her to be better. Because she hated you. She despised you. You had bitten her, like some sort of feral cat. You were not a Princess, but a mere Lady, yet seemed to show her in every area that you dedicated yourself to, according to Viserys.

Either Daemon had lied to him, or he had lied to her. Because did a proper lady show up to a wedding in a black and bronze dress cut in the dornish fashion? No, she did not. Yet as you walked towards the high table behind your father, Rhaenyra could not help but admire you. There was a confusing beauty in your exposed arms and collarbones, in the barest hint of a thigh that could be seen from the side when your gown moved.

It was a surprise to no one that Daemon crashed the wedding. After all, it was in his style to do so. No one bated an eyelash at it. Instead, all eyes were on you. Your gown was a statement if Rhaenyra ever saw one. House Royce stood proud today, not House Targaryen.

She wondered what Daemon thought about it. Not only were you wearing a risqué gown, but you were making a declaration. You were the daughter of Rhea Royce, and you wouldn’t be silenced. A brave stand, especially if the rumors were to be true.

Rhaenyra had heard about it, of course. Your mother’s passing and the alleged hand Daemon had had in it. You looked to be the only one looking for justice for Rhea Royce. Rhaenyra understood the feeling well. Too often, Targaryen men disregarded women in favor of advancing their ambitions.

Hadn’t Daemon done that to her in a ploy to get her off the race for the Iron Throne? Left her there, standing in the middle of a brothel, possibly to face her ruin? She betted he would have not been so happy, so easily pulled away, if it were you in that brothel. He would have burned it down and salted the earth to protect his little dragon.

You were oblivious to it, of course. But the only time that Daemon had been in agreement with Otto Hightower had been when Viserys shyly suggesting taking you as a wife. The row had been explosive, or so she had been told. One arguing that he was King and could do as he wished, Otto screaming it was giving Daemon too much power, and Daemon screaming that he was a perverted old man.

He had not seemed to care about the age difference so much in regard to her, though. Hypocrite. Yet love had a way, it appeared, of bending one’s moral compasses. Or making one grow one, in the case of Daemon.

She envied you for that, too. While Viserys had been willing to pawn her off to an old man or a child, Daemon had been insistent on finding you an age appropriate match. It was why you were still unmarried, despite being only two years younger than her.

As her father pulled a chair for you and Daemon to sit, Alicent made her own entrance, wearing a green gown. The same color Oldtown lit up in when Hightowers went to war.

“It seems she has outdone me.” You pouted, towards no one in particular. Your voice was different from what Rhaenyra remembered. Deeper and accented. You spoke in the clipped tones those in the Vale had, more proper for calling horses than noble speech. It reminded her of her mother.

“It’s my wedding, cousin.” Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes at you. Why did you have to show off all the time? You came in here, looking more like a Royce than a Targaryen and had to flaunt it in everyone's faces. “Neither of you are supposed to outdone me.”

“Girls, girls.” Her father placated, placing a hand on her arm. Rhaenyra glared. You glared at her, right back. “You both look gorgeous tonight. No need to fight.”

“Ah, right. How could I possibly forget?” You whispered, right back. “It’s all about Princess Rhaenyra tonight. And every other night. With my father, with yours…” You trailed off, bitterly. Daemon smiled at Viserys, tense. No one wanted the reminder of what had happened between Rhaenyra and him.

The Velaryons, meanwhile, look between the attendants with polite masks. But Rhaenyra can tell Rhaenys is just dying to say something. She is not very fond of her and your comment has given her the ammunition she needed.

Alicent tries to interject, perhaps redirect the conversation, but Rhaenyra is not listening. All she can see are your defiant eyes.

If you wanted to play, it was fine by her. Rhenyra was more than willing to go a few rounds. Her ego was bruised enough that she doubted anything you could say would actually hurt her. But it didn’t mean she had to tolerate your disrespect laying down.

“Dearest cousin, I notice you growing a bit thick on the hips. Tell me, have you traded the dragon for the horse?”

Lyonel Strong nearly spits out his wine. You give him a sweet smile and then say something that freezes both Rhaenyra and Alicent.

“Oh, not so often as you do. I heard you went riding with your white cloak. Where is he? I thought he might appreciate my dress tonight.”

Rhaenyra sees red. It’s the only explanation because she is dreadfully rude. She throws you the half of a pomegranate, which you gracefully catch.

Viserys laughs awkwardly.

“I think we should begin the feast. The Lady Targaryen is looking famished.”

“Of course.” Daemon immediately caught on, following his brother’s lie. Rhaenyra wanted to slap him. Was it him, who had slipped that piece of gossip to you? “How considerate of my niece for noticing.”

“She has grown into a fine flower. Although not without thorns.” Viserys whispers to Daemon, much to Rhaenyra’s disgust. It’s evident that he is talking about you. Was it only the distance from court, what kept you from taking Alicent’s place? Would her father have married you if Daemon had offered you?

After all, you have all his worst qualities. After nearly tangling in the sheets of the man, Rhaenyra is not afraid to admit it.

As if taunting her, you flash her a feral little grin. Pearly teeth on full display, you bite savagely into the pomegranate. Rhaenyra’s calf throbs in sympathy.

Her eyes are fixated only on you. She ignores Laenor’s attempt at making conversation. There is a drop of red juice gathering on your lower lip. There is a sudden urge to rub her thumb over it. Of pinching the appendix with her teeth and biting until she draws blood, all rabid hound.

Cousins. You hate them, or you love them, there is no middle point. The drop slips lower, towards your chin. You have the manners of a peasant, smearing the juices all over your face. Messy girl.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask a very flustered Corlys Velaryon, licking your lips. Daemon tuts in disapproval, but does nothing. Rhaenys looks on the verge of slapping you, but most men in the hall seem to enjoy the display. Even righteous Criston Cole looks your way for a second.

A droplet of juice travels down, down, down, between your collarbones and towards the valley of your tits. She thinks of biting down the soft hollow of your throat and not letting go until you were sweet. “Cousin, please.” Pretty eyes filled with tears, mouth agape. She can see it so clearly… Blood on your throat, all over that pretty little dornish number… Rhaenyra blinks. A trick of the light, surely. For a second, it looked like you actually were covered in blood.

“Daughter.” Daemon says, and tenderly cleans your lips with a napkin. His hands linger a little too long on your throat. Rhaenyra doesn’t know whether he wants to strangle you or is genuinely trying to clean you up and preventing yourself from making a spectacle. She understands both urges. “Please. Why don’t you go greet your other cousins?”

You give him a sultry look, from beneath your lashes. Another pout.

“Oh, Daddy…” You purr, and it’s clearly not directed at him, but to the man your eyes are fixated on. Corlys Velaryon, yet again shifting uncomfortably on his seat. Daemon clenches his fist. Her father clears her throat and gives Rhaenyra a pointed look. Get her out here, his eyes seem to say. Before Daemon punches your future father-in-law and ruins your wedding. “You are no fun.”

“Cousin.” Rhaenyra says, all high and airy. In truth, she too wants these men to stop looking at you. You are hers. Disrespectful fools, can’t they see you already claimed her? “Care for a dance?”

“Of course, Princess. Thought you never ask.” And you get up, insolent little brat that you are, and take her hand. Was it all a ploy? Were you flirting with Corlys Velaryon only to get her alone?

Insufferable brat, that you are. Of course you were.

She wonders, sometimes, what is it, that you want. You don’t care for her. You are as much of a spoiled princess as she is, yet you refuse to see it. Embracing the Royce side of your heritage favored your delusions of normalcy. Learning to hawk and hunt, riding as well as any man would. You have a dragon, of course, but it wears the Royce’s sigil proudly on its neck, and not one of the Targaryen collars.

What is it that you want? Rebel against Daemon? You resent him, surely. For leaving when you were a mere girl, and showing up to the Vale when you are a woman grown, expecting you to bend to his will. Rhaenyra can understand that. She, too, has been babied by Targaryen men. Not even Daemon, despite his lust, sees her as a woman.

It must make for an interesting dynamic. You are headstrong. So it’s Daemon. In your eyes, he abandoned you and your mother to go fight his little war and then tried to get his marriage annulled, making you a bastard, all in a ploy to bed his niece and take the throne. Said niece is only two years your senior and childhood nemesis.

She has heard you are soon to be married, but not yet to whom. Her father leans towards marrying you to Harwin Strong, son of his Hand. A way to keep Daemon under control. The match is slightly more age appropriate. They had yet to decide the problems of inheritance, though.

Rhaenyra doubts Harwin will want you, a dark, bad behaved thing who is always on edge. She has caught him looking at her more than a few times, and you are nothing alike. Oil and water. Well, more like silver and bronze.

As you walk together towards the makeshift dance floor, hand in hand, the crowd parts for you. Rhaenyra lifts her head, proudly. The music that is playing is fit for a couple’s dance, no doubt playing in hopes of luring her and Laenor to dance.

It will not be happening today, it seems. Because Rhaenyra places you in the line along with the women, taking her place among the men. Your hands feel warm in Rhaenyra’s hands, and she smiles. A true Targaryen always runs hot.

You smile back. Rhaenyra circles you, almost predatory. She drinks you in. The untamed spirit. The bewitching eyes. The bristles of teenage rebellion you have yet to shed.

The best parts of Daemon. What had pulled her in. Yet, not the same. Not at all.

You circle back, eyes narrowed. At the high table, your fathers watch. Both of them are pleased by what seems to be the end of the hostilities. They have no idea how you vex Rhaenyra, with those enchanting eyes of yours. How much she wants to find out what's inside that pretty skull, what makes you tick.

Then, the unexpected. As Rhaenyra extends her hand, about to make you twirl, you twirl her instead. Taking the lead from her. You twirl her, and as she comes out of it, it turns into a battle for dominance again. Rhaenyra starts doing the figures for the male partner a little more aggressively, clapping near your ear and forcing you to move to her will.

You struggle, at first. Then you give in. Sweet little cousin that you are, submitting to your Princess and future Queen. Yet, your smile is as ferocious as ever, shiny teeth just begging to sink into her and pull. Feral. As always.

The dance finishes with the two of you standing close, so close Rhaenyra can count every one of your lashes. Your chest rises and falls, lifting your tits tantalizingly. She thinks of licking the sweat from the valley between them, of biting the soft flesh. Of your beautiful little gasps.

Would your eyes light up in bed the same way hers do? After all, Viserys and Daemon are brothers. Both of you share some subtle similarities. Rhaenyra wonders if laying you down on her bed might be like having sex with her reflection. A distorted one, perhaps.

You stand in black, while she does it in white.

“We shouldn't.” Your voice breaks the spell. Despite your eyes constantly darting towards her lips, which Rhaenyra cannot help but lick, you seem spooked. She brushes a hand against your cheek, softly. Tilting your head just so to kiss you. “This is wrong.” You say, expression delightfully tortured. No matter your protests, you close your eyes, leaning into her.

She is so close to breaking you.

“You are a Targaryen.” It's the wrong thing to say. You pull away from her touch, frowning.

“And you are about to get married.”

“Aegon the Conqueror had two wives.” Rhaenyra presses. She is willing if it means having you. If your ancestor married sisters, why can't Laenor marry cousins?

“Does Laenor look to you like a man who could handle a wife, much less two?” You smile, showing her your canines in a bitter gesture. “My father seduces whores with that same line. Get your own.”

Joyfully, you go, right into Ser Harwin's arms. You start dancing with him. You don't look as good as you did when dancing with her. Your blush and your little giggles seem to put the man under a trance. Rhaenyra scowls. So much for wanting her. Good gods, were his affections so fickle? Were yours?

Wanting entertainment for the night, she glances at Daemon. Ugh. Dancing with that girl, Laena. Men. Always led by their cocks.

She doesn't want Daemon. She is not sure what she wants, in truth. Does she want you because you are so much like him? Or did she want him because he reminded her of you?

What was first, the dragon or the egg?

Rhaenyra is the one with fickle affections, much to her horror. As she stands in the middle of the dance floor, she feels adrift at the realization she has a type. Targaryens. Rhaenyra likes you, defiant little grins and all. But what really warms her blood is the thought of you and her being similar.

Is that what Daemon felt when looking at her? This deep connection, the urge to grab you and pull you away from Ser Harwin's arms, whose hands are straying lower and lower down your back. And you are letting him. You are letting him touch you, and sure, he is handsome. But you are a Princess, even if not in title. You are hers, as much Daemon is Viserys's.

Rhaenyra knows you want her. How could you not, when you looked at her with those eyes? As your own face crept closer and closer, it was clear Rhaenyra was not the only one who wanted that kiss. You had played along.

Now she is dancing with Laenor, making a pretty show. Your eyes track her every movement, despite being in the arms of your soon-to-be fiancé.

Everything is as it is supposed to be. You grin at Harwin, but Rhaenyra knows it lacks your usual strength. You are not at ease with the man and it shows. Oh, what wouldn't she do to pluck you from his arms and dance with you again.

Perhaps there is a way. Rhaenyra hides her smirk, passing it off as a smile to Laenor. As soon as the dance ends, she rushes to your side.

“Dearest cousin, you must stay with us for some weeks.” She says, interrupting you and Harwin. The man looks vaguely amused, a flicker of interest in his dark eyes. “The wedding has me thinking about our mothers, and how soon such a joyous occasion might come for you too.”

“Hm.” You answer, raising your eyebrows. The mention of your mother is a low thing to do, but it's the truth. Look at you, a maiden ripe for the taking. Marriage alliances, enviable prospects, yet motherless.

“I was thinking, as my marriage progresses, I could hope to be of guidance, just as Queen Alicent has been for me.”

“Guidance?” You ask, frowning. Maybe Rhaenyra had laid it a bit thick. She must redirect, less you spook again.

“There is much to be learned about marriage, of course. And it's my duty as the eldest cousin to prepare you for it.”

Ser Harwin's eyebrows raise. You give her your signature feral little grin. She wonders what those teeth will feel like again on her skin. Hesitantly, you place your arm on hers and allow her to pull you off the dance floor.

If you had yet to know or not the joys of the marital bed was no matter. The excuse was as good as any for getting you to stay. Rhaenyra would have to thank Daemon for that one.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra x you #princess rhaenyra #rhaenyra x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen #me noticing a mispelled tag and refusing to fix it #cristi's bingo

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fict1onallyobsessed · 1 year

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Can we get one where someone says something really hurtful to reader while in the ring (that wasn’t scripted, and it surprised everyone even the one who said it because it wasn’t meant to be said?) and Rhea supports Reader back stage? Comfort plssss

Slight Misunderstandings

Rhea Ripley x Reader

It was almost as if the world stopped for a second. Everyone in the audience, everyone in the ring, everyone backstage, even you, stopped to look at Edge as he stood in the middle of the arena with a mic in his hand. The smirk he had on his face was quickly wiped off as he realised what he’d done, the silence making him feel like he would cripple under such spotlight. You just stood in the middle of the runway, with the intention of getting backstage just like what the script said for you to do.

You didn’t have a clue what to say back. Do you even say anything back? You wanted to scream and shout at him, throw the mic you had in your hand at him, but you just couldn’t. You stood frozen looking at him with wide eyes thinking about what he said, completely different to what you’d actually be in the ring. When you did manage to process everything, you dropped the mic and continued your walk backstage, everyone suddenly booing Edge when they saw how defeated you were.

Yeah, you won the match. But what was it worth when Edge managed to ruin every ounce of pride within you. He took it, shrivelled it up, and made it die like paper in fire. Your win suddenly meant nothing to you, even thought seconds before it had meant the world.

Walking backstage was probably the worst part. People were silent, not clapping like they usually do. Even Triple H was silent, a expression that could only be described as an apology apparent on his face. The belt around your waist? Meaningless once again.

Your weak feet dragged you quickly to get away from everyone, the last thing you wanted to do was be within people who only served you pity. No one really knew what to say, because congratulations would only make you want to get away from everyone even more.

It wasn’t until you felt hands against your waist, pushing you quicker towards the locker rooms, that you snapped out of your daze. A slight distraction that made your throat close up when you noticed who it was. Rhea led you away from people, her hands never leaving your body as she did so. She knew the second she turned you around you’d start crying, and she tried to do that away from as many people as possible.

“I didn’t know he was going to say that.”

She locked the door and hugged you tight, kissing the top of your head as she nodded.

“Nobody did. He wasn’t meant to.”

Only then did you let a tear fall. Everything you accomplished seemed to just crumble under your feet. A single comment made you want to disappear forever. Rhea knew that though, her hands never stopped hugging your waist, letting you cry the emotions out so you didn’t have to do it alone. You love her for that, but the indescribable feeling of sadness never went away.

“Hey, shh, shh.” She soothed, peeling you away from her, her hands cupping your face firmly but softly. “Don’t let him take this away from you. You can cry about it any other day, okay? Enjoy this,” she pointed to the belt around your waist. “Because this is once and people will try and drag you down every single day. Don’t let him win.” She wiped the tears off your cheeks and dried your eyes with her sleeve, smiling gently down at you as you melted into her touch.

“I’ll beat his ass for you next week when the Judgement Day fights him, okay? Don’t cry, babe. He’s not worth it.”

You nodded and sniffed, feeling her kiss your forehead before she let go of you. Thankfully, the only media you had to do was a small interview with some woman who knew exactly how to make you forget about Edge, but other than that, all media was on tomorrow.

The trip back to the hotel was quiet but calm. Rhea made sure to make you feel okay every second of the night and never failed to mention your big win. Eventually, all was okay. But that was only because Rhea was there to make sure you were alright

THE END.

#wwe x reader #liv x rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley x reader #demi bennett #demi bennett x reader #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley wwe #wwe rhea ripley #rhea ripley headcanons #rhea ripley one shot

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ripleylove · 9 days

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You have nothing to worry about as long as I'm with you.

requested by @stellakiddsblog saying Rhea x reader They fly to Australia to tell Rheas family they are getting married and reader is terrified they won't like her

pairing: Rhea Ripley x fem reader.

genre: fluff,comfort

summary: during the way to meet Rhea's family to tell them you're getting married,you started to get a bit worried,but Rhea is quick to calm you down.

A/N: today I've wrote like 5 pages for an assignment....god give me the strength also thx @bibibi-tchx for the moral support xx <3

Also sorry if it's short!

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

Your soon-to-be wife Rhea wanted to let you meet her lovely family.

It's okay,you should be happy,right?

Right.

The problem is,you were anxious. Like, you were terrified that they wouldn't approve the two of you.

You loved Rhea dearly,and you would do anything for her. So,seeing her happily telling you about her family and how she would love you meeting them for the first time, you couldn't decline her offer about going to her hometown,Australia,to meet her parents and to announce that you were going to get married.

When you nodded with a smile,she was jumping of joy, hugging you as tight as she could (and almost destroying your whole body) and peppering your whole face with kisses.

On the airplane,you just couldn't bring yourself to tell her about your worries,seeing how happy she looked. She was literally squirming in her seat from the excitement,and you didn't want to ruin it.

What if they think you're ugly?

What if they don't like you?

What if they don't approve it?

What if they will hate Rhea because of you?

What if Rhea wants to leave you?

What if,what if,what if...

Your thoughts were flooded with negativity,thinking the worst about this whole meeting. And your lover Rhea noticed this.

"Baby,are you alright? We can wait a little bit more to meet them-" She was talking with a worried tone,obviously caring about your wellbeing. "Yes,baby,I'm alright,don't worry. I'm just a bit scared" You mumbled the last part,suddenly finding the floor interesting.

Rhea fully turns towards you,combing your hair with her sharp nails.

"Scared of what,cherry?" She came closer to you and put her pointer and middle finger under your chin,raising it so you can look at her in the eyes. Your eyes,after seeing her comforting gaze and after feeling her soft digits starting to caress your cheek,started to water.

"What if they don't like me? What if they don't like us?" You said with your voice breaking mid sentence,tears now fully flowing down your eyes.

"Oh,baby. Come here,Mami is here for you." She said while opening her muscular arms,welcoming you in her warm and loving embrace,while gently kissing your head.

Her hands went on your back,tracing soft patterns, while she started talking. "Baby,you have nothing to worry about. You know that as long as I'm with you,you don't have to worry about anything. So if my family says something bad about you,I will for sure put them in their place. Also,who cares if they don't approve? I have to marry you,not them." You giggled a bit from her words,the sound quickly made the corners of Rhea's lips rise upwards.

"See? That's what I want to hear,your cute little laugh." She said while teasing you,tickling your sides. Your laugh echoed through the whole plane,and you think you'll get some complaints from other people. But who cares,you're having fun with your wife,the love of your life and you life saver.

After that,you two just cuddled,loving each other even without words.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley fluff #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley oneshot

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pandorasfavorite · 1 month

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Filthy smut? I gotchu, here's a couple

(I'm good with prompts I just can't write lol)

Rhea and dom x reader but dom is like super submissive

One were the reader is a fellow wrestler and gets super nervous whenever dom is near because of his height and he notices and teases her abt it before, ya know

Maybe one were dom and the reader have been married for a bit and reader tells dom that she wants a baby and he goes to whatever means to uh, ✨make that happen ✨

If you don't like any of these that's totally understandable, love you tho ♡♡

6'1

AN: It's not a lot but it's something...Is it bad that I want him to take advantage of me????

5'6 isn't short. And in your defense even if it was short at least you aren't dunking under walkways or having to look down at anyone. Now with that, you don't let tall people intimidate you, you could beat them up just as easily as you could if you were 6'6. Scientifically that makes no sense, but you'll rock with it. Despite your stubborn admission to not let them intimidate you, Dominik Mysterio was the exception. And God did he love using it to his advantage.

You didn't even see him that often but he always managed to show up at the worst moment he could. INTENTIONALLY, you'd like to add. He towered over you each time he talked or smiled that adorable smile he had. Today he stood in front of you with his hair dripping from water and his skin shiny with sweat from his previous match. His gear was a little ripped and his chest was showing through, his arms were always out just how you like it. Sometimes you thought you imagined him flexing his muscles when you were watching. Like right now while you were standing in front of him.

You watched it flex for another minute while Dominik was talking, his arms were a distraction from your heart beating 100 miles per hour. He made you so nervous and his sheer height was no help. Your eyes were so glued to him that Dominik thought he’d have to move away completely to get your attention. He waves his hand in front of your face now, “What you looking at there Mami?”. Dominik spoke so smoothly it glided off the tongue. You practically deflated, like became so embarrassed at being caught you put your hands over your face. “m, so sorry”, you said behind your hands though it was slightly muffled.

You felt Dominik lay a hand on your shoulder and your chest only constricted more. He was only making it harder for you to get a grip. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I liked it”, he replied with a smirk that showed his pearly teeth. Not that you could see, or register what he said. You still hid behind your hand and shook your head, “ I’m so embarrassed”.

Dominik now smiled slightly and grabbed your wrists to move your hands out of your face. “Don’t be, I told you I liked it. I like you”., You part your fingers to peek at him, "You do?". He nods and grabs your wrists to pull your hands off of your face. You puff out an anxious breath when the thought comes racing into your mind. You thought about how you would have to get on your tippy toes just to kiss him. But Dominik could make it easier, he could swoop you into his arms and pin you against the wall. He'd run a hand through your hair and mess it up, but regardless his lips would be on yours. 'I want to kiss him' you thought.

"Then do it"

You snap your attention right back to Dominik and somehow he has only gotten closer and he's backing you up against the wall. "What?", you stutter out with a bright red face. He laughs and touches your hair while being cocky, "You said 'I want to kiss him', I heard you sweetheart". You looked like you just got stung by a bee because your face was screwed up in embarrassment again. You try to cover your face again, but there isn't enough room between you and Dominik to lift your arms up. Instead, you lay your forehead on his chest, "It was supposed to be in my head". You feel one of his hands on the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair. The air seems thick around you both, the desire was there, but you lacked initiative. Even though Dominik said he liked you, just maybe that wasn't enough. You lifted your head to meet his intense and serious eyes like he was plotting something. He cupped the side of your face, and for a split second, you were determined to be the person to make the first move. But when Dominik had a sweet small smile and glimmering eyes at the mere sight of your lips...the honor was all his.

So he pulled your face in, lips sliding together and noses just barely bumping against each other with the solidifying kiss. You both don't move, letting the one kiss linger between you both. But when you do pull back, you go right in for another. It was quicker, stronger, feverish; as if his lips were a cure to your madness. Every kiss has a distinct sound and the atmosphere only compelled you to tug at the loops of his pants to pull him that much closer. His other hand left your hair and slid down the side of your body, all the way down to the back of your thigh to lift up. He lifted up your leg and positioned it on his thigh, holding you there. When he pulled back his lips were a bit swollen and your hair a tousled mess. Dominik moves his hand off of your face only for you to grab it.

You slid his hand down the front of your body, always down to where you felt you needed him most.

His tattooed hand cups your covered pussy and your mouth parts with excitement. Only for Dominik to turn away and leave you pressed against the wall. Remember how you never let someone taller than you, take advantage? Well, you stomped towards Dominik, hot on his trail. You grab him by the back of his arm and you pull him around to face you. Normally you would be struck with silence because of his tall figure and devilishly handsome grin, but not now. You point at him and jam your finger into his chest, “Don’t start that with me”, you now cross your arms across your chest. He looks down at you and his hair barely covers his playful look, “Start what?”. Both you hands rear back to smack his chest, but Dominik didn’t budge let alone wince; “And don’t play dumb either!”.

Your quiet demeanor went back to the fiery one Dominik loved and remembered all so well. "There's my girl", he commented and ran a hand through his air. You look up at him with an angry look that to him looks like you are pouting. You sigh in annoyance, "What are you talking about now?". Dominik inhales deeply before he goes on a whole speech about you.

"My girl is shy when I'm around, not quiet. I know you get nervous because I'm so tall, but I also know how much it turns you on. I've seen the way your thighs rub together every time you look up at me. I like when you get mad-", he leans down just a bit to antagonize you and he grabs your wrist lightly, bringing it to touch his hard cock. "Feel that baby?", he rasps and rubs the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

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

You had dragged Dominik into your personal dressing room, pushing him to sit on the couch. He made moves to sit up completely but you sunk to your knees and pushed him back by the chest to relax. Your hands fumble with his belt and Dominik is already swallowing in anticipation. "You don't have to do this", he rasps out but his adam's apple is bobbing with every swallow of a breathy sigh. You yanked down his pants completely and pressed a firm kiss to his clothed cock, listening to the way Dominik sighed and embedded his fingers into your hair. Then finally you pulled his cock out and stuck your tongue out to graze the tip, his fingers tightened and he cussed. Another kitten licks and Dominik groans, "Fuck mami come on', you gonna tease me?".

With that you take him into your mouth, his cock sliding against your tongue and down your throat. You gag each time the tip of his cock goes too far back and each time Dominik tries to pull out of your mouth. Only for you to grab him by the base of his cock and shove him further into your mouth. "Baby, take a break", he pants and rubs his thumb against the temple of your forehead. You pull back, and a string of saliva connects your lips to his cock, "For me or for you?" you grin. His lips twitch up into a smile and his cock jumps at the sight of you. Flushed, swollen, and wet lips, crazy hair with your tanktop falling off of your shoulders. He doesn't say anything back, he is stuck in the trance of mesmerizing you. But that is quickly over when your hand wraps firmly around the middle of his cock.

You slide your hand up and down, spitting on his cock just to make it feel better. Dominik clearly appreciates the gesture because his hips flick up and his head tilts back against the cushion. "Mm that's it mami, don't fucking stop. My good little girl", he grunts and groans with every swipe of your hand.

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itsrheasgirl · 8 months

Text

ONLY YOURS

VAMPIRE!RHEA X READER

ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ - ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜱᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇʟɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴄᴏᴍʙꜱ (ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

WORD COUNT: 11,042

SUMMARY: IT HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE RHEA HAD BEEN ABLE TO FEED. LUCKY FOR HER YOUR NIGHT OUT WITH YOUR SORORITY SISTERS WAS ABOUT TO BE THE ANSWER TO HER PROBLEM.

TW: Choking, Fingering, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Blood Consumption.

A new nightclub. With its dim lighting, dark corners and smoky atmosphere; it was easy to lurk unnoticed when needed. The perfect place to hide in the shadows and not have to acknowledge the people around you. But that wasn’t always the case; as Rhea was about to find out.

Callus fingers gripped tightly around the crystal that housed rich amber liquid as Rhea’s sapphire gaze scanned the vicinity of her table, her spine pressing firmly into the cushion of her booth as she exhaled a disgruntled sign from her nostrils. It had been days since she had fed, she hadn’t had a moment alone since getting on the plane to work a few days prior and things were getting desperate. The ache in her gums had become excruciating and she wasn’t entirely sure how she was keeping it together.

The bar was packed to the nines with belligerent men who’s only goal was to fuck anything that moved, the occasional sober loser who’d lost a bet and been deemed the designated driver and a hand full of bachelorette parties filled with overly drunk females just looking for an excuse to make out with a stranger. It wasn’t like she was short for something to snack on, but her shimmering hues traveled the entire perimeter of the bar and she saw nothing but a mass of unappetizing obstacles that stood in her way of feeding on what she truly desired.

You didn’t like going out in public; in fact you would much rather be at home with a book and a large glass of red wine than crammed into a tiny nightclub with a ocean of complete strangers and yet here you were. Standing in the smoke pit of the only decent place to drink in town as your best friend Hanna puffed grey smoke from her lips like a chimney.

“Look either you stop acting like I ruined your night, or you don’t, but either way we are getting shit faced. Got it? You owe me.”

Inhaling another long pull from the white stick perched within her fingers till her lungs were full, you waited patiently for the recoil of smoke to cloud the sky before you and for her to speak again. She wasn’t wrong, you did owe her but you didn’t ever expect her to cash in on it.

“I made out with half the girl’s in the sorority to get you in, so suck it up and show them that your were fucking worth it.”

An impish cackle parted Hanna lip’s as slender fingers moved forward to offer the cigarette in your direction, her perfectly manicured brows arch skyward as she gives you a swift up and down. You didn’t want to change yourself to fit in at school, but she was unfortunately right. If you wanted to fit in, you had to follow the rules.

Swallowing a small pool of saliva that had pooled on your tongue, you reach out and generously accept the cigarette into your own grasp. Just one puff, that's all you needed to do to prove yourself and after that you’d never have to smoke again. With a nervous palm, you press the small burning stick between your lips and inhale a violent breath. The heated smoke hitting the back of your throat as you instantly fought back the desire to cough.

“Fuck.”

You choke out as the gust of smog fell from your lips, the corners of cat eyed wings beginning to water as you swiftly handed back the worst decision you’d ever made. That was definitely the last time you’d do that. Giving yourself a few moments to regain your strength, you stand back upright and flash your best friend a concerned smile.

“Yeah, not a fan of that.”

You groaned before pressing your lips in a firm line, a strange tingle in your throat burning as if you’d swallowed hot coals. How was it that so many of your friends could smoke like a chimney and never suffer from such a burn? Not even ice water could soothe the fire in your throat.

You had always wished for Hanna’s confidence; ever since you were kids she had always been the social butterfly and you’d hidden yourself away indoors with your books and your stories. While boys had captivated her, fantasy had captivated you. Losing yourself in a world where anything was possible.

“And you made out with half the girl’s in the sorority because you wanted to, it had nothing to do with me and you know it.”

A small harmonious laugh parted your lips and you glanced down at the outfit you’d been forced into for the night. It hadn’t been your first choice; hell it wouldn’t have been your one hundredth choice but unfortunately, you didn’t get a choice in the matter.

“Did you have to pick something so–”

You pause for a moment, your slender fingers pulling at the hem in an attempt to make the dress seem longer, desperately trying to pull it past your knees.

“Sexy?”

Your best friend replied, not letting you finish your own sentence for fear of already knowing the answer. You’d put up a good fight as she basically painted it on you earlier that night, but you clearly weren't strong enough to save yourself from a night dressed like a dominatrix.

“I was going to say short.”

You snip, still attempting the impossible with the last two inches of your dress. You were already beginning to stress of the dribbling males that would be hanging off your every word and you hadn’t even stepped inside yet. Surely this was taking ‘you owe me one’ a little too far?

“You can’t complain, the dark red goes so well with your milky skin tone and your dark hair. You look like the damsel in distress from your vampire romance novel.”

A soft pink flush comes to your cheeks as your best friend brings up your secret shame that to this day you wish you hadn’t told her about, your heart rate dropping slightly as you compared the imagery in your head. In your mind, you looked nothing like the main female human within your stories. She was delicate like a flower, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a sunset. You were none of those things.

“Are you done? I just want to get this over with.”

Darting your crystal gaze in the direction of the almost burn out stick, you raise your eyebrows in question and motion towards the nightclub entrance with an eager bob of your head.

“Let's go.”

- - - - -

The sweet smell of dry rose mixed with a delicate musk hit Rhea’s nostrils before you’d even set foot in the bar; the second the door opened she was drowned in your floral aroma. The small hairs that lay across her neck standing on end as her fingers tightened, the crystal glass beneath her fingertips creaking under the pressure. It was as if every smell that plagued the bar had disappeared and all that was left was you. You were tantalizing and she had to have you.

“Tequilaaaaa.”

You made it eight steps. You’d been in the bar less than ten seconds and you already wanted to leave. Your nose crinkled as you lean away from the overly loud female, keeping your line of sight on the bar. The faster you got to the alcohol the better and at least you could still have your red wine.

Sliding your palms across the slick bar top; for a split second you forget what you're wearing and lean forward on the bar to gain the bartender's attention, the cool breeze of passers by alerting you of your exposed ass cheeks as you snap back up to standing position. To the naked eye, it would have been missed, gone unnoticed by everyone and you would have gotten away with it. But a split second for humans could be stretched for hours by a vampire; it was a skill that came hand in hand with their inhuman speed.

The whites of Rhea’s eyes darkened slightly as she stared at you from her booth in the corner of the night club, the tips of her fingers turning pure white as she gripped even tighter to the tumbler in her palm. The snow white mounds peeking out from beneath rich crimson fabric had Rhea’s desire for you to increase. There was something primal deep within her that flipped like a switch the second she’d layed eyes on you, the pain in her gums and the burning under her skin like thousands of tiny matches had been lit against her already sensitive flesh. The cheeky peek at what your body looked like out of your dress had Rhea’s plump lip rolling beneath blunt pearly whites, her free palm moving from the booth before her to drag back through slicked back jet black hair.

You were like a magnet; drawing Rhea in, captivating her every sense by doing nothing but exist in the same space as her. The stale smell of old beer and wet cigarettes no longer existed in her nostrils, all she could smell was rose; sweet and fresh. It was the most beautiful smell she’d ever come across and she couldn’t wait to get her teeth into it. Quite literally.

“I’ll have a glass of red, sixteen ounces please.”

“And four shots of tequila!”

Your bestie screamed as you attempted to order your drink, her entire form bumping into you as she crashed into your side with a loud groan. You’d had a few shots before leaving the sorority house and it was becoming very clear to you what kind of drunk you’d be looking after tonight, your forearm wrapping around the shorter female's waist swiftly in hopes to keep her upright.

“Two. And a glass of water please.”

You took a worried look over in your best friend's direction as she held onto your frame, returning your focus swiftly to the bartender as he too watched over your companion with concerned hues. You had more friend’s coming, you wouldn’t have to take care of her yourself all night, but what were you supposed to do before the other arrived?

Slender fingers winding around the stem of your wine glass, your glistening hues scanning around the vicinity as you took a seat at the bar with your inebriated counterpart in tow. Why had you agreed to come out tonight? Why couldn’t have been you washing your hair? Gently crossing one toned leg over the other, you leant back against the bar to rest upon the ledge. You didn’t intend to stay out all night, but a couple of hours out of the house couldn’t be that bad right? Maybe something exciting would happen to you for once.

Rhea’s grip around her beverage had yet to relax, her entire fingers starting to lose color as she continued to hold tightly onto the tumbler. The clear glass beneath her pressure had begun to crack, hairline fractures scattering across the smooth surface as she finally retracted her palm in enough time to save herself from shattered glass littering her flesh.

She couldn’t take her eyes off you, not even for a second. The way your dark curls fell about your shoulders, your exposed collarbones and the plunge of your perked breasts, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You had her captivated in ways that she’d never experienced before and no matter how long it took, she was going to get a taste of you.

“Drink the water, please.”

Small whimpers fell from Hanna's lips as you tried to hold the tall glass of clear liquid against them, your manicured brows knitting together as she reluctantly sipped at the refreshing liquid you so desperately wanted her to drink. She just needed to balance out what she was consuming, one glass of water per alcoholic beverage and you'd have her back on her feet in no time.

“I wanna daaaance.”

Hanna whined, her face turning away from the glass as you lowered it back down to the bar top with a soft exhale of air. Of course she wanted to dance and of course she couldn’t wait for the remainder of your group to arrive. This was supposed to be a simple night out, but it seems that reality had other plans.

Gently taking hold of her wrist, you pull Hanna in your direction and force her to look at you, her glimmering emerald hues cloaked in a pleading expression as she pouted flush lips. You couldn’t say no to her; it was the reason you were out of the house to begin with, but you weren’t a great dancer and if you could avoid it you would.

“How about you finish your water first, huh?”

Another elongated whine fell from Hanna’s lips as her faux pout grew more dramatic, her head shaking side to side with enough gusto to have her long blonde curls hit you in the face. God she was annoying, but over the years you’d gotten used to her stubborn demeanor and her ability to get you on board with whatever she wanted. It didn’t come as a surprise when all she had to do was bat her lashes and everyone would be fawning over her within seconds.

Rolling your eyes counterclockwise as you finish off the last of your wine, you slide the empty glass back towards the bartender and push off your barstool with an exasperated groan. Dancing wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but having the entire bar’s watchful gaze on you as your shapely body moved in a dress that wouldn’t even fit a Malibu barbie was another thing. Pulling the hem of your dress down once more as you tried your best to cover more of your exposed flesh, you finally give up and grasp tightly around the fragile bones of Hanna’s wrists.

“Rule one. You stay upright.”

Yanking Hanna from her bar stool and on to her feet, you lock your crystal gaze with her own. Sure you were probably wasting your breath, but it didn’t hurt to try and get through to her.

“Rule two. Keep your hands off the strangers.”

You could see the excitement growing on Hanna’s face as she realized you were giving in to her request, her energy level practically boiling beneath her skin as she began to bounce in place. Maybe letting her burn off some energy before everyone else arrived would make your evening a little more bearable.

Loosening your hold on Hanna’s wrist only slightly so she didn’t run off towards the dance floor without you, you grasp at the half empty glass of water to have a final attempt at getting her to drink it.

“Finish your water and then we can dance, I promise.”

Watching you closely as you encouraged your friend to down the remainder of her water, Rhea couldn’t help the devilish smirk that claimed her full lips. Your statuesque physique continued to tempt her as she inhaled yet another full breath of your intoxicating scent, the sharp pain in her gums becoming unbearable as she licked a plump tongue across pearly whites. It was clear to her that you wouldn’t be alone any time soon, but she was willing to wait. You were the only person she saw in a sea of bodies and if meant waiting all night to satisfy herself with the rich elixir of your blood, then so be it.

The warmth of the dance floor was definitely off putting, hot and sweaty bodies writhing against each other as the heavy base of the music thumped in your ears. But as your body swayed back against Hanna’s and her lengthy fingers held tightly onto your hip bones, you had to admit to yourself that maybe you were having a good time. It wasn’t public knowledge that you preferred the touch of a beautiful woman to that of a dribbling puppy dog male, but as the delicate touches of Hanna’s fingertips danced against your flesh you couldn’t help the soft whimper that parted your lips.

The harmonious noise of your soft mews flooded Rhea’s earcannels; even with the heavy bass drop, your sounds were all she could hear as she continued to watch you from the corner booth, her darkened hues burning into your slender form as she carefully finished her stiff drink for the fractured glass. Selective hearing was a perk of being undead, focusing on what she wanted to hear and ignoring everything else around her like it didn’t exist. All she saw was you, all she heard was you and all she wanted was you.

“I’ll drink it really slow. Pleeease.”

Hanna whined as she rested her chin down against your shoulder, the warmth of her breath cascading across your skin as she begged you for yet another drink. Your milky flesh pimpling beneath the air that parted her lips as she gently trailed her fingertips up and down the length of your forearm, you let heavy lashes close for a few moments while you contemplated her question. It was no surprise to you that her touch was coursing such a reaction. How were you supposed to stay calm when a beautiful woman had her hands on you? Exuding a small sigh as you turn on stiletto clad feet, you open your eyes to look upon Hanna with a concerned expression.

You didn't want to be the reason she wasn’t having fun.

“Fine. But you drink it really slowly.”

Hanna squealed with excitement as once more she began to bounce in place, her slender fingers gripping tightly around your wrist as she dragged your statuesque form back in the direction of the bar with nothing but joy in her eyes.

You couldn’t begin to understand why girls loved drinking and being out in such crowded places while they did it. What was so appealing about the atmosphere the two of you currently found yourself in? Sweaty bodies, loud music and– A large lump formed in your throat and your mind went blank as your glistening gaze locked onto the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen leaning against the edge of the bar as you approached. Her jet black hair slicked back and away from her perfectly chiseled jaw, her plump lips coated in a burnt red paint, a midnight black suit hugging her muscular form perfectly and a litter of silver rings adorning her lengthy fingers as she stared intently at the bartender who stood motionless in front of her.

“Hi!”

Hanna yelled over the base of the music as the two of you reached the bar top, her emerald hues flitting over to the mysterious stranger as you stood in silence at her side. You weren’t one to talk to people you didn’t know; especially when they looked the way she did. Swatting at Hanna’s upper arm to gain her attention, you raise your brows in a concerned expression before shaking your head gently back and forth.

“Don’t bother people you don't know, Han. I’m sorry.”

Glancing over in the direction of the lady in black, you swallow nervously as her shimmering sapphire hues lock with your gaze. Her eyes were like crystal pools, instantly captivating you and pulling you into their hypnotic state with ease.

Leaning back only slightly on her stool as to peer around Hanna’s form to give you a un-noticeable up and down, Rhea licked her plump tongue slowly over her throbbing gums as an eat shit smirk claimed crimson lips.

“No complaints here.”

Rhea chortled softly. The pads of her fingers coiling around the new crystal glass of amber liquid as she slowly brought it up to her lips, not once breaking the hypnotic connection the two of you shared as she gulped back a mouthful of the burning liquor.

You could feel the color of your cheeks shift, even with the multicolored lights that flashed through the otherwise dimly lit bar you were certain Rhea noticed as she turned her attention back to the bartender who remained motionless in front of her. He hadn’t once looked away; as if he was in a trance, captivated by her movements.

“Glass of red and a fruity cocktail, am I right?”

You could see Rhea as she peeked over at you from her peripherals, the eat shit grin returning to her perfect lips as she took another long sip from her beverage. How did she know what you were drinking? Had she been watching you?

Bobbing your head in a slow motion, you couldn’t help the little smile that tugged the corners of your lips. You should be concerned, right? A complete stranger had been watching you, for how long you weren’t even sure and in any normal circumstance you’d be grabbing your things and heading for the door, but there was something about this woman that made you want to stay. Something about her that had your subconscious spinning and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So what’s with the whole dark and mysterious look you’ve got going on, mysterious stranger? It’s kinda creepy.”

Your mouth fell agape at Hanna’s words, a sudden wave of panic washing over you as you tugged a few strands of her golden hair causing her to whine at the pain.

“What?”

She snipped, turning her gaze back towards you as she rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. She could be so obtuse sometimes and it often led to unwanted confrontation that you had to resolve. With a ‘what the fuck’ expression upon your features, you step around her petite frame to sandwich yourself between her and Rhea as concern once more claimed your face.

“I really am sorry about her.”

Turning your back on Hanna as she continued to rub at her scalp, you faced Rhea head on with an apologetic smile. You didn’t find her attire creep, in fact the darkness of her clothing and depth to her make up made her most captivating feature pop. Her sapphire gaze was truly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, looking into her eyes brought a warmth to your demeanor that you only felt when you lost yourself in your books.

“She doesn’t have a filter and will find pretty much anything to keep herself entertained.”

Rhea didn’t say a word as she leant back on her stool to peek over at Hanna with a raised brow, a small chortle releasing from her chest as she sat back to rest her elbow against the bar.

“I can see.”

Your manicured brow arches in confusion as you take in Rhea’s words, turning back on high heels to find Hanna tongue deep in a complete stranger. The beverage she was supposed to drink ‘slowly’ empty on the bar top alongside two empty shot glasses. Expelling a soft gust of air from your nostrils, you roll your eyes counterclockwise and return your attention to Rhea as she sits sipping her liquor in silence.

“So much for girls' night.”

You grumble as slender fingers wind round the stem of your wine glass, slowly bringing the glass to your lips before swallowing a mouthful of the crimson liquid in one big gulp. You’d expected nothing less from Hanna, she was known for finding anyone or anything to make out with but you didn’t expect it to happen before you had other friends to keep your attention occupied.

Staring down at the last bit of wine as you swirled it round and round in the glass, you exhaled a small sigh before knocking your head back to consume the sweet liquid. The sound of Rhea clearing her throat pulling you back to reality as you placed the empty glass back onto the bartop. You hadn’t noticed her watching you, her dark gaze burning into your milky flesh as you’d dwelled in self pity over losing your friend to some random stranger with a skilled tongue.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?”

Your plush lips curved into an impish simper as your tongue played with each pitfall of your back teeth. You weren’t one to have drinks with a stranger, especially with someone as devilishly attractive as the female in your current company, but what harm would it do to be adventurous. Live on the wild side for once like the heroine in your new novel.

Sliding the empty glass in the direction of the awaiting bartender, you crinkle your nose in contemplation. Maybe you should order something other than wine. You were planning to live on the edge a little, so why not spice up every part of your evening?

“You know what, surprise me.”

- - - - -

The pad of Rhea’s finger danced softly against your neck as she swiped the loose strand of chestnut curls over your shoulder, your exposed flesh causing the heat in her esophagus to rage like wildfire. The steady thrum of your heartbeat like heavy drums in her ear canal as you sipped the fruity beverage she'd chosen for you, blissfully unaware of her staring once more. She could smell the sweetness of your blood as it moved through your veins, pulsing at the sweet spot in your throat like a beckon that kept drawing her in. She couldn’t help herself, everything about you was like torture.

It was a stupid idea for her to be this close to you when she hadn’t fed, one wrong move and she’d be left with quite the mess to clean up and compulsion wouldn’t be an option in a place this busy. She knew she was weak, the lack of human blood always led to dwindling power and one feed wouldn’t be enough to pull her back to full strength. But as Hanna had wandered off into the night with her new found plaything, Rhea had invited you back to her booth with open arms. She wanted to be alone with you, to not let anyone else have you. Your scent had intoxicated every fiber of her being and even with the fire that raged in her gums she couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be, ya know, I've been writing for years but I'm still finding myself with too many sleepless nights when it comes to my current work.”

You weren’t sure why Rhea had become so invested in what it was you did outside of the four walls you both found yourselves in, but as you spoke about your current endeavors with school and the challenges they were bringing you; you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Most people found your creative writing to be boring and often changed the subject to something else whenever you brought them up, but Rhea was hanging off your every word like it was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard in her life. Her piercing gaze fixated on your lips as you spoke, her palm resting beside your thigh on the cushioned seat you shared and her plump lips curved into a devilish simper. She was eating up every single word that you said, which only encouraged you to keep going.

“Fantasy isn’t everyone's cup of tea and I often have to deal with immature frat boys calling me geeky names but when I open my mind up to the world of the supernatural, I can lose myself in a reality more exciting than my own.”

One of Rhea’s brows arched skyward at your mention of the supernatural, the corner of her lip inching into a playful smirk as she took a long sip from her crystal tumbler before setting it down beside your empty glass. So you were a girl who thrived on the suspicion of creatures that didn’t always take human form, how convenient for her.

In a move that would go unseen to the human eye, Rhea shifted her palm to rest down against the exposed flesh of your thigh. The tips of her fingers toying playfully with the hem of your tiny dress as she leant in to press the flush of her lower lip against your ear. She could hear the increase of your heartbeat before you could realize its speed, the pad of her thumb catching the sensitive part between your legs only causing the sound to grow louder.

“Supernatural you say.”

Rhea’s blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear as she spoke, her lips moving painfully slowly as she began to press a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. You’d never had someone make a move so quickly after nerding out about school, but the delicateness of Rhea’s actions had you melting under her touch. A soft mew parting your lips as you tried to remain focused on your breath. You couldn’t let on how desirable Rhea made you feel, you barely knew each other.

The blood pumping beneath Rhea’s lips had her free palm gripping tightly at her empty glass, her subconscious trying its best to focus on not ripping out your throat and not the strength she was using.

“Are you actually interested, Miss Ripley? Or are you just acting interested to get in my panties?”

Your head lulled to the side in attempts to beckon Rhea closer, your thighs parting only slightly to tempt her playful hands as her fingers continued to toy with your dress. This wasn’t you. Not normally, but there was something about Rhea that had your mind reeling. She made it hard for you to focus, it was like she had an aura that played with your senses and clouded your brain.

You felt Rhea’s lips morphe into an eat shit smirk against your skin as she nipped sharply against your pulse point, the strength behind each nip leaving purple marks in their wake. Your own lips pressing into a harsh line as you fought back a plethora of pleasurable moans that threatened to break free, your head tilting back against the cushioned wall behind you as your fingertips gripped the edge of the booth.

You were hidden away from eighty percent of the bar in your corner booth, the patrons all too focused on each other to pay your little endeavors any attention. You could whimper and moan all you wanted, the music was far too loud for anyone to hear. She could use you like a rag doll and no one would be the wiser.

“What if I said both?”

You could feel the flush of Rhea’s lips move against your collarbone as she spoke, the sharp nips against your flesh pausing for only a few seconds as she addressed your question, quickly resuming once she was done. You couldn’t begin to imagine what your throat looked like as Rhea’s skilled lips continued their magic, your fingers only gripping harder at the booths ledge as you held in your breath to calm your desire.

There was no way that you’d found someone who not only showed interest in you but also in your work. They weren’t often a thing that came hand in hand and a part of you was beginning to doubt yourself. This had to be a set up. Your friends were just playing some sick joke on you and Rhea was just attractive bait to lure you into a trap.

“Is it wrong for me to say I don’t believe you?”

You probably should have kept your mouth shut, but once you had an idea in your head, you had to act on it.

The burning sensation of Rhea’s kiss as they marked your skin stopped suddenly, her sapphire gaze retracting to meet your questioning own as the corners of her lips twitched into a devilish simper.

“Come now kitten, what kind of a woman do you take me for? Lying to you just so I can get you out of your dress? I should be offended.”

You couldn’t stop the sudden increase of your heart rate as Rhea’s little pet name caught you off guard, the plush of your lower lip rolling tightly between pearly whites as you kept your gaze locked with hers. You couldn’t think of what to say. She didn't seem offended, the unbelievably desirable smirk remained plastered on her lips as the pad of her thumb once more found itself dancing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. She wasn’t backing down, not even slightly and if she still wanted you, she could still have you.

You could feel the lump resurfacing in your throat as Rhea’s sapphire hues burnt into your own, the devilish glare within them pulling you further and further into her web as her plump tongue coaxed over her painted lips. She was staring at you like a hungry lioness stalking her prey and with each passing second your cravings for her lips back on your skin grew stronger. What had this woman done to you?

With a swift motion you barely noticed, Rhea’s fingertips from her free palm moved to sweep back the dark curls that clung to your shoulder, pushing them down your spine to reveal the soft curve of your shoulderbone to her wandering gaze. She’d not looked away from you for most of the night and yet there was so much more of your slender form she wanted to see.

Pressing her heated kiss back down against the hollow of your collarbone, you can’t help but expel the soft mews that had been clinging to your lungs. Even the slightest of touches; be it fingers or lips, had you reveling in desire. Every part of you screaming for her touch as you leant into the passion of her aura.

Without a word, your thighs parted once more. Your entire body was begging for her to take it as her own and the longer she made you wait, the harder it became to keep yourself contained. You didn’t usually beg for someone to be this close to you. On your usual Saturday nights, you were wrapped in a blanket with your laptop, writing your novel and wishing your life could be as exciting as the heroines you wrote about. Falling in love with supernatural beings, learning about a whole new world and chasing dreams that didn’t exist in a human’s reality.

Chewing at the plush of your lower lip, you let heavy lids fall closed. The sensations of Rhea’s lips moving effortlessly against your jugular vein had your heart racing, the heavy thrum like music as it played in her ears. The pain beneath her gums raged; growing more intense by the second as her fingertips pressed into the creamy flesh of your upper thigh. She wanted you and you wanted her, it was clear to you both where this night could end.

A small wince echoes from your chest as your blunt teeth punctured the top layer of skin upon your lower lip, the rich taste of copper coating your tongue as Rhea’s entire form went rigid. She could smell the blood as it pooled from the injury you inflicted on yourself, causing the depths of her gaze to darken. The smell flooded her nostrils as she held herself still against your neck, keeping her features away from your gaze as the tips of her canines began to ache. Her control was weak, the lack of human blood over the last few days had left her with no power left to curb her desires. She could feel the monstrous rage that came hand in hand with feeding off a fresh vein boiling under her skin, the tips of her fingers pressing into your thigh enough to leave purple blemishes beneath the tips.

“Rhea?”

Your tone was laced with question as you spoke her name, concern flooding your features as you pulled away from her heated lips that still held their place against your throat. Your head craning to the side in attempts to look upon her motionless form, you swallowed nervously as your gaze fell upon the unexpected. The depth of Rhea’s eyes caused the air in your lungs to catch, your throat growing tight as a lump in your windpipe kept you from breathing out even a single breath. Was it a trick of the lighting? Were the shadows playing tricks on you?

Sucking the blood that had pooled on your lower lip into your mouth, you force out a stammered breath. It had to be your mind, it was playing tricks on you. There was no way that what you were witnessing was true. It couldn’t be. But as your mind played back over the night's events, your heart rate began to increase once more; only this time you had other things on your mind.

You hadn’t seen Rhea once since entering the nightclub and yet all of a sudden, there she was. Making herself a part of your night without even trying. Her dark demeanor and captivating eyes, her beauty and enticing persona. It was as if she’d been written to be perfect by your own mind. You played back each and every moment of the night as Rhea simply watched you, the black glaze to her once sapphire hues somehow still so captivating as you pieced things together. The stranger that had caught Hanna’s attention so quickly, the speed behind some of Rhea’s actions along with the ones that seemed to go unnoticed until they didn’t, her obsession with the soft spot of your pulse point and her ability to bruise your flesh with almost no effort. She was strong and fast. It wasn’t real, It couldn’t be.

It would only take a moment for Rhea to make you compliant, to get what she truly needed from you, but as she watched the light in your eyes flicker with excitement— only for a second, she doubted herself. You didn’t seem scared, in fact the complete opposite. Why didn't you run? It was clear you knew something no one else did and yet you hadn’t made one move for the exit.

Stretching out your palm to trace a singular finger over the arch of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled cheekbone, you swallowed back the lump in your throat with one thing on your mind. If this was real, if you were sat in the presence of something no one else believed in, then you would dive into the reality with both feet. Watching as the depth of her gaze shifted back to the bight blue you’d fallen so deeply for, you drop your hold on her features and grasp tightly at Rhea’s palm that sat on the table beside her empty glass.

“Come with me, Mami and I'll give you what you need.”

Giving Rhea’s hand a gentle tug as you slid from the booth and encouraged her to follow, you couldn’t help the impish glimmer that flickered in your eyes. If this moment was going to play out how you imagined, you needed a little more privacy.

- - - - -

The arch of your spine slammed against the reflective glass of the full length bathroom mirror as Rhea pressed against your slender form with all she had, the heat of her kiss against your jugular once more as you pawed at her shoulders in attempt to remove the suit jacket that clung to her torso. You could feel the hunger resonating out of Rhea’s form, her blunt nails puncturing the soft flesh of your thigh as she pulled your leg up to her waist. She was starved and as the moment between you grew hotter and hotter, it became harder and harder for Rhea to remain focused. Your pounding heartbeat didn’t exactly help the situation either.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Rhea practically moaned as she wound her lengthy fingers into the mass of your chestnut curls, her palm tugging down to expose more of your milky throat for her to ravish with her purple marks.

“Because I know where this goes.”

You whine as Rhea scatters a brand new chain of bruises around your neck, her palm moving you head like a puppet as she moves from one side of your throat to the other.

“I’ve written this story.”

Rhea’s interest peaked as you unknowingly gave away a part of the story you had yet to talk about. The question being which supernatural it was you wrote about. Trailing the tip of her nose up the left side of your jugular, across the perfect angle of your jaw and slowly up to your right ear, she gently sucked the lobe between her devilish lips before whispering softly against your ear.

“Then tell me Kitten, how does our story go?”

Were you about to quote your own book?

Use lines you’d written with the intention of never truly being said.

The warmth of Rhea’s breath against your ear makes your lids flutter, your fingers moving to toy with the first button of her slightly opened shirt as you turn your head slightly to find her oceanic hues. They were your words, you had written them, so why couldn’t you speak them? Popping the first button of Rhea’s shirt and swiftly moving to the second one, you lick across your front teeth before using the tip of your nose to bump her chin enough for you to find her ear.

You needed the right inflection, to commit to the part if you wanted it to work out and fuck did you want it to work out. Pressing a scatter of heated kisses along the perfect angle of Rhea’s jawline, you nipped playfully at her earlobe for letting out your words in a whisper.

“Take my body as your own, sinking your teeth deep into my skin; show me no mercy.”

Your voice dripped with desire as you popped yet another button on Rhea’s shirt, the pads of your fingers dancing across the skin as you exposed it to your gaze. Taking to the next button as you pressed a warm kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“Rip out everything mentally and let it explode physically.”

The whites of Rhea’s gaze began to grow dark as your words played with her hunger, tugging at the strings like torture. Your ravenous lips pressing another few kisses across her jawline.

“Grab hold of me, thrust and tear me chaotically, spilling your rage all over me.”

Finally reaching the last of the buttons on Rhea’s shirt, you pull the tails free from the leather belt that kept them at bay to expose her bare breasts to the air of the smoky bathroom.

“Hate me, love me, destroy me.”

Shifting your lips to peck repeatedly at Rhea’s own in hopes she would simply take you; there and then, you hike up your free leg to eagerly wind them both around her waist. Her weight against your form as you were pressed back into the mirror kept your bodyweight up, your hips grinding down against her own in attempts to get comfy.

Pulling at your hair and yanking your head back and away from her, you watch as Rhea’s lips morphed into a eat shit smirk. You watched in awe as the depth to her glazed eyes became darker, the grin upon her face peeling back to reveal elongated canines that almost glimmered in the bathroom lighting.

Vampire. Your subconscious screamed as you chewed playfully at your lower lip, your present mind not once thinking of the danger you could be in and ignoring the desire any normal human would have to run.

“Use me. Claim me.”

You uttered as your palms slid into the small of Rhea’s back, your slightly pointed nails pressing into her flesh as you slowly clawed them up her spine before winding them into her onyx tendrils. It took less than a second for Rhea’s palm that held tightly onto your thigh to snap up around your throat, her callus fingers tightening instantly to restrict the air escaping your lungs as she licked hungrily across her pointed fangs.

“Make me your plaything and fuck me, mia regina.”

(“ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ.”)

Rhea’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as your fluent Italian flooded her ears, a shallow growl vibrating in her chest as she snapped her lips back against the shell of your ear.

“Oh dolce Gattino, ho intenzione di farlo.”

(“ᴏʜ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ, ɪ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ.”)

Each moment with Rhea was like you’d planned it, every detail of the night following that of your own imagination as she returned your foreign language without effort. Smoothing her thumb over the vein on your pulse point, she slacked off the hold she had on your throat just enough to allow you breath. Her heated breath washed over your ear as she continued to speak.

“Perché da ora in poi sei mio. Solo mio.”

(“ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”)

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as Rhea’s flawless Italian continued to drive itself into your consciousness, your heavy lids fluttering closed as her muscular form pulled you against her chest to relocate you to the sinks ledge. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you, about to be ravished beyond your wildest dreams by a walker of the night.

You couldn’t bring your gaze away from Rhea’s bare chest as her knee pushed itself between your own, driving your thighs apart enough for her to slide into the space she'd created with a devilish chortle. The darkness of her gaze continued to deepen, the vice-like grip around your throat tightening once more as she tilted your head back to have you look up at her with widened eyes. You could still breathe, but as Rhea’s fingertips pressed into the sides of your jugular you prayed to the heavens that she’d squeeze tighter. That she’d pull you into a new euphoria and heighten the desire that pooled between your legs.

“Only yours.”

You whimpered as the crushing sensation in your windpipe trapped the sound within its walls. Rhea was driving you crazy, each passing second pulling you further into a daydream as your palm moved to trace your fingertips over the wigs that spread over her sternum. Your blunt teeth gripping the flush of your lower lip as you took in every detail of the intricate tattoo, fracturing the delicate skin once more as the pressure became more intense. You could taste the blood as it bubbled to the surface once more, the coppery taste coating your taste buds as your fingers dropped from their soft touches to Rhea’s skin.

“I’m sor–”

You didn’t have the time to finish your apology before Rhea’s hunger found the soft plush of your lip, the heavy tug of her pulling the blood clean from the cut causing a delicate moan to vibrate from your chest as your fingertips gripped around the sinks ledge. She’d fought back every desire you’d thrown at her. Your scent, the heavy thrum of your heartbeat every time she’d touched you, but as the warm elixir of your life’s essence washed over her tongue, Rhea broke. She was done holding back, you’d given all the permission she needed to take you as her own and fuck was she about to take advantage of it.

The grip around your throat disappeared without you even realizing, both Rhea’s palms finding your hips to pull your ass forward. The hem of your crimson dress hitching higher up your thighs to expose more of your creamy flesh as Rhea’s darkened gaze simply watched in pleasure, her flush lips curving into her signature eat shit smirk as her tongue slid over elongated fangs. She wanted to taste every part of you, feel every part of you beneath her lips.

Tracing the pads of her fingers over the expanse of your soft thigh with one palm, Rhea craned your head slightly to press a scatter of kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your neck. The sharp points of her teeth catching your flesh every so often had you reeling, your legs twitching slightly as you felt the gentle touches of Rhea’s lengthy fingers trace between your thighs and ever closer to the heated core. The lace that shielded your wetness from her eager fingertips growing damper as Rhea’s released a deep moan against your earlobe.

“Take all of me Mami, please.”

You begged, swallowing a large ball of saliva as it pooled on your tongue.

“Take my body. My mind. My soul.”

You could feel the chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips as she moved her kiss back down your throat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what damage she’d done to your milky skin by this point, but as your flesh burned beneath each hungry kiss, you let your mind wonder.

The sensation of skilled fingertips pulling aside your soaked panties and sliding between your slick folds yanked you from your subconscious, an unexpected moan parting your lips as Rhea slowly circled your sensitive bundle of nerves with her thumb. Your spine slowly arching forward with each new sensation, you chewed at the uncut side of your lip to suppress your whimpers.

“Non nascondermi il tuo piacere, Gattina. Lascia che ti ascolti.”

(“ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”)

Rhea uttered against your skin as she slowly swiped her finger up and down the slit of your folds, pressing the tip against your entrance as she dragged sharp points across your shoulder. She wanted to give you pleasure before she took some for herself, but as the heat behind her gums burned, she contemplated how much longer she could hold back before she’d be forced to line her esophagus with your sweet nectar.

“Sì, Mami.”

(“ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴍɪ.”)

You whined as the tip of Rhea’s finger at your entrance caused your back to arch and your thighs to twitch, another heavy moan falling from your lips as she slowly began to insert her finger between your tight walls.

You still couldn’t believe what you were doing. Rhea could kill you if she so desired and yet you’d played into her web perfectly. She had you wound around her finger so tightly, in more than one sense and as she added an additional finger to the warmth of your core you couldn’t help yourself but call out her name.

Your thick lashes fluttered closed as Rhea’s palm cupped around the back of your neck, pulling your features forward to capture your lips with her own. A small wince echoing in your throat as her pointed teeth caught the small slice you’d caused but she didn’t seem to care as her tongue pushed past the barrier and began to explore your mouth, her fingers diving further into your wetness as she began to curl them against your sweet spot.

“Fuck.”

You purred, as Rhea’s kiss disappeared. Your lids snapping open as you felt the tips of her fangs drag against your pulse point. Was she about to feed off you? You were surprised that it hadn’t already happened. Vampires were written with a take what they want attitude, feed and move on. Rhea had already tasted your blood once and with that you’d expected her to rip into you like a wild animal, drain your life's essence and disappear into the night as if she never existed.

Tilting your head slightly to allow Rhea as much room as she needed for her feed, you close your eyes tightly. Would it hurt? You had no idea, but you had no intention of denying her. You could hear your heartbeat in your own ears and could only imagine what it was doing to her. The heavy thrum pounding out a perfect rhythm as you swallowed unknowingly out of nerves.

“Scared, Kitten?”

The dominance in Rhea’s voice had your fingertips gripping the countertop in seconds, your hips twitching forward against her palm as her two fingers continued to pump in and out of your slick walls without a sign of stopping. You weren’t scared, the complete opposite in fact; but you couldn’t bring yourself to form a sentence and instead a plethora of moans took the place of your words as her fingers curled perfectly against your sweet spot with each thrust. The chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips was almost evil as it vibrated in her throat, her heated kiss pressing once more against your jugular before her gaze pulled back to witness your tightly closed lids and monstrous grip upon the sink.

Slowing the rhythm of her thrusts only slightly with hopes of getting a reaction, Rhea’s painted lips curved into her signature smirk as your lashes fluttered and you lids peeled open. The darkness behind her gaze was still very present, the points of her teeth sharper than ever and yet she still hadn’t taken you as her latest blood bag. Why?

“I'm not scared of you.”

You stammered through labored breath.

“Prends-moi, brise-moi, s'il te plaît.”

(“ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ.”)

Once more Rhea’s lips peeled back in an almost demonic grin. Each time you saw the sharpness of her fangs it caused your heart to swoon, pulling you deeper and deeper into your own fantasies. Craving them to puncture your flesh and drag you into euphoria.

“As you wish”

Was all Rhea uttered as her rhythmic pulse against your core returned to its fast pace. You could feel the band in your abdomen tightening with each pump of her fingers, your head lulling back against the mirror as the fingertips from her free hand moved to sweep the hair back from your shoulders.

Was she about to give in? Were you finally about to experience what only the characters in your novel felt as an attractive female fed from you?

You could feel your peak approaching, each passing second Rhea pleasured your core pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You wanted her now, more than you had all night. Ever since the moment you realized what she was and what she could do to you, all you could think about was her sharp fangs plunging into your flesh and the euphoric state being connected with someone in such an intimate moment would bring.

Releasing the sink ledge and stretching out your palm in search of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled jawline, you traced your thumb against her smooth skin before cupping the nap of her neck. You didn’t want to be pushy, but you were losing your patience with the amount of time it was taking to feel her lips against your skin and with your pleasure soring, it was now or never.

Chewing at your punctured lip as you fought back the pleasured moans Rhea’s fingers pulled from your chest, your hips eagerly bucking against her. You couldn’t form words as she continued to bury her fingers third knuckle deep into your tight core, your chest beginning to rise and fall in labored pants as they forced their way out of your lungs.

“P-pl-please, Mami.”

You begged, your nails pressing into Rhea’s neck as you greedily rode her palm.

“Please.”

The word was barely air; let alone sound and would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. But as the sound of pleasured begging flooded Rhea’s eardrums, she followed your wordless request and leant forward to once more ravage your flesh. She could not only see the pleasure in your face, but feel it. She knew how to pull you over the edge and it wasn’t with her master finger skills.

Scrapping her sharp teeth over the pulsing point beneath your jugular, Rhea slowly wound her free palm around the length of your neck, her lengthy fingers coiling like a snake around the fragile column before snapping it to the left, exposing the long vein line to her aching gums. You’d begged her for it. For her to take you. Break you. Destroy you. Increasing the pace of her thrusts into your tight walls, you can't help but whimper as Rhea’s palm tightens around your neck and restricts your ability to breath.

“Last chance, Kitten. Sure you don’t want to run?”

Rhea uttered against your skin, the vibration of your pulse beneath her lips driving her insane as she licked the flat of her tongue across your jugular vein. You couldn’t answer her and she knew that, the constriction she had around your throat was almost cutting you dry and all you could manage was to gently bob your head in response to her question. You definitely didn’t want to run, you wanted to cum.

With a few more pulses of Rhea’s skilled fingers into your desperate core, you couldn’t hold back again longer. The band in your stomach wound so tight that you could feel tears behind your lids as you teetered on the edge of release. The sweet taste of your climax hitting like a tidal wave as the sudden sensation of pointed fangs punctured the supple flesh of your throat.

“Oh my… god… fuck!”

You panted as your own grip on Rhea’s neck tightened, your fingertips winding into onyx locks to hold her in place as your high crashed through you like a train. It was completely indescribable and yet it all felt right. You’d chosen to entertain Rhea in her little games all night long and your reward had been worth the wait.

As the warm elixir of your blood coated Rhea’s tongue and down her esophagus her entire form shifted, the energy she’d been lacking returning and her strength increasing ten fold.

Releasing your throat so as to not hurt you, Rhea’s palm slipped to your hip as you rode out your wave against her palm. The counter beneath you became slick with your wetness as she continued her pace with ease, pumping in and out to keep you on your high as long as possible. Feeding was euphoric on its own terms, but as your body trembled beneath her touch Rhea clued in to just how she was making you feel.

Your blood was rich and almost sweet, coating every inch of Rhea’s mouth as she continued to guzzle down the crimson liquid. Her eyes growing darker and darker with each mouth full. She’d never had a problem controlling herself when she was feeding, only inflicting injury on those who’d found themselves on the wrong end of a fight. But there was something about your life’s essence that caught her by surprise, her stomach filling but her desire only growing stronger.

“R-Rhea.”

You stammered. Your grip on her neck falling slack as your mind became fuzzy and your strength to hold on grew weak. The sensations you began to feel swirling in your subconscious as you contemplated letting her finish. ‘It will kill you!’ One side of your mind screamed. ‘But you don’t want to lose this feeling.’ Shouted the other, the two sides arguing causing the brain fog to expand as you whimpered softly. You’d never felt a sensation quite like having Rhea feed from you, the pull of blood leaving your body mixed with that of your mind clouding had you almost floating. Flying above everything as she suckled the life from within your form.

It was as if Rhea knew she needed to stop, the soft sting at your jugular disappearing instantly as she pulled free from your skin. A coat of crimson plastered over her smeared lips as she swallowed back her mouths contents to speak.

“Hey Kitten, talk to me. You doing okay?”

You could hear Rhea’s words and yet somehow still couldn’t answer her. Your high had already fallen, your mind clearing slightly as her muffled words fought to be heard, but with your vision still blurred and your mind still buzzing, you swallowed back with the little strength you had. A sharp wince pulling from your chest as the pain in your throat became noticeable.

“I’m fine.”

You slurred as the soft tips of Rhea’s fingers slid around your chin, her sapphire gaze returning once more as she pulled herself back to human looking status and turned your limp neck to have you face her. The pad of her thumb grazing over your cheekbone as she curiously examined your features. Physically you looked fine, her manicured brow becoming arched as she continued to search your expression.

“I’m fine.”

You repeated, this time a lot more assertive, as a cheeky grin claiming Rhea’s lips. Her palm still cradled around your chin and supporting your head, she couldn’t help the small chortle that vibrated in her chest.

“So it was just that good, huh?”

Rhea’s brow arched slightly as she licked her plush tongue over crimson stained lips, cleaning up every last drop of your blood that stained her kiss as you watched her closely. You could see the tiny shift in her ocean gaze as your blood cleansed her palate, your own lip rolling beneath your lips in you held in a small whimper.

“Better than the books.”

You uttered, a small laugh muffling in your mouth as you held your lips tightly with your teeth. Of course you had no idea what it would truly feel like, your imagination not even beginning to create such imagery as you’d written such a moment. Being with a vampire was supposed to be fantasy.

Rhea chuckled softly as she smoothed her thumb over the punctures left by her fangs, a small stinging sensation shooting up your spine as her pressure against the open wound increased slightly. Your lips falling lax as delicate moan pushed passed them, the same pleasure you’d felt as she fed from you bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve got one last treat for you, Kitten.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to play off what else she could possibly do for you, hers sapphire hues keeping you very captivated as you hum a delicate tone.

“What else could you possibly have prepared for me, Mami?”

You purr as a singular finger lifting to trail over the perfect curve of Rhea’s jawline, your tongue coaxing over your lower lip as thick lashes flutter slightly. You’d known each other less than a few hours and yet somehow you’d found yourself willing to do anything in order to keep her around.

Watching you intently, Rhea’s lips curve into an impish smirk, her palm dropping from your cheek and moving to the supple plush of her lips in a fluid motion. The darkness in her gaze glimmering back to the surface, only for a few seconds as she ripped open the cluster of veins in her wrist.

“One, I can’t let you walk out of here with that.”

Rhea’s gaze flicked to the wound upon your neck and then swiftly back to her wrist as a small pool of blood formed against her skin. Sapphire pools rising up to meet your gaze with an almost protective smirk.

“And two, you're mine now, remember and I’m not done claiming you yet.”

Blood bonding. Was she serious? You didn’t expect to ever see Rhea again after tonight, but if you knew anything about the supposed existence of blood bonding between supernaturals you’d never be able to leave her side again. A sires bond, linked to each other no matter how far apart the world tried to pull you.

“You’re asking me to—”

Your words trail off quickly, your crystal gaze still locked with Rhea’s as your tongue pushes through your lips. You were definitely curious, did a vampire's blood taste different to your own? But could you take the risk of locking this woman into your life forever?

“No.”

The tone in Rhea’s voice dropped, the authoritative demeanor she now held making the words that fell from her lips a clear order.

“I’m telling you to.”

You swallow nervously, certain you’d obey her before you’d even fully processed the request as you sit up right on the sink ledge and adjust the hem of your dress. You didn’t even want to think what your hair looked like as you pulled a palm through the sweaty tangles, coughing lightly to clear your throat as you took one last moment to breathe.

“Do you trust me?”

It was strange to you how Rhea could almost play two completely different people, the dominance of her darker self and concern of her human form playing hand in hand as she spoke to you. The demanding attitude from before instantly replaced with protectiveness as she sensed your nerves.

Bringing both of your palms to hold them together in her lap as you looked down at twitching fingers, you inhaled one last breath before and focused on steadying your heart as you looked up in search of Rhea’s gaze. Looking into the depths of her eyes was calming, like looking out and the ocean and you knew if you could find her pools all would be okay.

The warmth behind Rhea’s gaze as you found it was the most comforting it had been all night, all the darkness within her almost melting away as she waited for your answer. She couldn’t let you leave the bathroom with such a disaster upon your throat, but she didn’t want to force anything on you unless she had too.

“I trust you.”

You finally uttered. Your words weren’t loud but they were loud enough for Rhea to hear as she took a small step closer to you, positioning herself perfectly between your thighs as her free palm cradled your neck.

You could almost smell the richness of Rhea’s blood as you wrapped both your palms around her wrist, your mouth unexpectedly flooding with saliva as you took in the sight before you. It was now or never, you wanted this moment to mean something. You wanted to show her that you’d felt something between you that you were willing to bond together and not have this moment be ruined by her forcing it all on you.

“Feed me and make me yours.”

You whisper, an impish grin claiming your lips as you coated blunt teeth with your tongue and lean gently against Rhea’s palm.

“Forever.”

- - - - -

TAGLIST: @coolbeans-17 @rebecca-quin @jemilyforever @marvel1995 @ripleyxo @littlemiss-fanficlover @12emi26 @riverscyberwife @ellabsdarling @lostintimeandmusic @imjohnnycake @55tarboy @jaye500 @call-me-a-simp @girlofpink @mizfortunez @eradicatabitch @jinxeilish @witchyweeb34 @bl0w-m3

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meraxesmoon · 10 months

Note

Hello, could you please do some headcanons for Mysaria and Rhea (separately or together is fine by me - love a good crackship-) raising their daughter (via sperm donor Daemon)?

Thank you!!!

Doing these separately, but the poly version is so interesting to me, lmao.

Mysaria mentioned that she never wanted to have a pregnancy, but we see that she cares deeply for children. That being said, I don't think she'd make the worst mother. She's a rather good one, actually. She loves her daughter, and she's a protective mother.

Mysaria wouldn't let Daemon know about their daughter, though. She knows what kind of man he is, and she doesn't want her precious daughter around him. A big part of Mysaria's character is just her wanting to be safe, and she'd want the same for her daughter.

I've read a few fics where Mysaria's daughter ends up as a prostitute, but I don't think this would end up happening. She wants to keep her baby safe, and we see that Mysaria didn't like being a sex worker, so I think she'd keep her child relatively sheltered.

I mentioned how Rhaenyra is possessive of her children, and Mysaria is the same way with her daughter. This plays into why she keeps their daughter a secret from Daemon. She doesn't wish to share her baby with anyone, even if it is her father.

Rhea, on the other hand, is just plain aggressive when it comes to Daemon and their daughter. Their baby is a result of their one and only night together, when they had to consummate their marriage to each other. Rhea adores her daughter, but that doesn't make her hate Daemon any less.

He's away from Runestone all of the time, so it's likely he doesn't know she's had their daughter unless he hears it from someone else. Rhea wouldn't be the one to tell him. She's content being the only parent in her daughter's life. I have mentioned that Royce! (Name) is very sweet and gentle, and despite being the absolute opposite of her mother, I imagine they would get along very well, even if (Name) had the typical Valyrian look.

While Mysaria is a possessive mother, Rhea is a prideful one. She's extremely proud of her daughter, no matter what she may do in her life. She's supportive and caring despite her outward appearance to those around her. Rhea adores her daughter, and Daemon hardly ever crosses her mind. If it were up to her, her daughter would never marry. Rhea just wants her baby to live a happy life, and men usually ruin said happiness.

If we're going the angst route, the last thing Rhea thinks about before being killed by Daemon is the safety of her daughter.

She's the ultimate girl mom.

they're so gorgeous, daemon fumbled so hard 😭🤞

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere #yandere mysaria #yandere rhea royce #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere got #yandere game of thrones #yandere ask #yandere asoiaf #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 month

Text

The Silver Dragon (2)

Youth

Lady Arianwyn and Prince Aemond grow up side-by-side.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: This chapter is entirely new! The old chapter 2 will be back later as chapter 3. Also, I have not been around babies or toddlers or even kids under 10 since I was that age myself, so if I got any childhood development facts wrong, just pretend that I didn't!

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Only four days after Prince Aemond Targaryen saw his eleventh moon, he took his first steps. It was a matter of necessity. His nursemaid had set him on the nursery floor too far from Aria – all the way on the other side of the rug!

He did not really know who Aria was.

He did not know that her full name was ‘Arianwyn,’ for everyone only called her Aria – except for the large men in bronze suits, who called her ‘Lady,’ or sometimes “Little Lady.” He did not know that she was his cousin, as he did not know what a cousin was. He did not know that she had not always been with him or that she was younger than him, for he had no memories without her there.

All he knew was that Aria was always there, and he was always with her.

But in that moment, she was too far away. He took one look at Aria’s sad and confused face, and he knew he needed to get to her. If he didn’t do it soon, she would start to cry. He hated it when she cried. It made him want to cry.

So, he started crawling toward her. Slowly, he was moving too slowly. She looked more and more like she was going to cry, and Aemond decided there wouldn’t be anything worse in the world.

He pushed his arms against the floor, bracing himself as he raised up onto his legs, as the bigger people did. When he lifted his arms again, he saw Aria staring at him, no longer looking like she was about to cry. While he was glad, he still wanted to go to her.

“Hurry, get the queen!”

Aemond remembered that last word, ‘queen.’ He heard it a lot when his second-favorite person was around. Was she here, too?

He turned his head to look at the part of the wall where people came through but didn’t see anyone. The turn cost him, though. His legs grew wobbly, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was going to fall. He couldn’t prevent the fall, but maybe he could control it.

His arms flailing, Aemond leaned forward and took three steps closer to Aria before he fell on his face.

Three steps were enough, though. Aria had crawled forward to meet him in the middle of the rug, a wide smile on her face as she squealed with delight. Tears had already sprung to Aemond’s eyes from his fall, but when he looked at Aria, he forgot why he had wanted to cry.

“Aria!”

“Aymmmmmuh!”

Aemond knew words now – several of them. It infuriated Arianwyn. Especially when his favorite word was her name, and she could not say his back.

She knew his name. Whenever someone said “Aemond,” she knew they were talking about him. She just couldn’t get the word out. The first part, the “ay” sound, she usually got right, but it always fell apart from there.

The worst part was seeing his frustration when she failed, yet again, to say his name. She wanted Aemond to like her – needed him to like her.

He wasn’t like Aegon, who was too big and played in ways she couldn’t, or Helaena, who barely liked to play at all. They weren’t even there most of the time. They were big enough to leave the nursery and go to different places like “garden” or “great hall.”

But Aemond was perfect. He played exactly how she liked, and though he was bigger than her, he never played too roughly. When Aunt – who Aemond called “mama” – took Aegon and Helaena out of the nursery, he stayed with her. He always stayed with her. Even when they were in their cradles, she could still see him from across the room.

“Aymmnuh,” she tried again. And failed again.

Aemond frowned and shook his head. “No.”

Another favorite word of his – Aegon taught it to him. Arianwyn huffed, the sound echoed by the hatchling dragon sunning itself in the window.

Some weeks prior, she had woken in the hour of the wolf to find that the egg that had lain in her cradle had shattered. Shards of black speckled with storm gray and ice blue were strewn across her blanket, and the comforting heat she had grown accustomed to warming herself against was gone. As she began to cry, she noticed a shape looming over her, perched on the edge of her cradle.

The night nurses screamed, shouting at the guards outside the door. Both the man in red and black and the man in bronze looked at her and the dark shape at her feet with wide eyes before running down the corridor so fast their clanging armor sounded like a thunderstorm.

The noise woke Aemond, who looked from Arianwyn to the shape that had leaned down to peer at her. “Dwa- dwagon!”

Arianwyn watched as it jumped down from its perch. She could barely make out the shape in the darkness and against the deep brown of her fur blankets. It did look like the toys they played with that the others called “dragon.” Two membranous wings, a thin, flicking tail, a long neck covered with small spines, and eyes like living ice.

It moved cautiously as it approached her until she could see the faint lines of gray and white within its blue eyes—a dragon. Her dragon.

As she now frowned at Aemond, her dragon was sprawled on the stone of the windowsill, wings spread lazily as it echoed her frustration without even opening its eyes.

“Dragon!” Aemond exclaimed.

“Muhmuhnd!” She was so close, she knew it. She had all the pieces. She just needed to put them together. “Ay!”

Aemond stared at her, a hint of a smile on his face from knowing she was about to try again.

“Ay!” Her face was scrunched in determination as she shouted. The nurses paused their work and looked at her as well.

“Ay-muh!”

Aemond started clapping. One of the nurses whispered to another before slipping out the door.

“Ay-muhn!”

In the window, Arianwyn’s dragon sat up, small clouds of smoke puffing from his nostrils as it began to climb down from the window.

“Ay-muhn-duh! Aemond!”

One of the nurses pressed a hand to her chest and said a word Arianwyn didn’t know. The others started rushing around. But Arianwyn didn’t care. She was looking at Aemond, who clapped and smiled wider than she had ever seen.

“Aemond!” She shouted again, delighting in his responding laugh.

He pointed at her. “Aria!”

“Aemond!”

“Aria!”

“Aemond!”

There was a new baby in the nursery—two, actually, but Daeron had already been there for four moons, so his novelty had worn off.

Aemond and Arianwyn sat together on one end of the room, watching as he was held by his mother, Rhaenyra, who was also Aemond’s sister. That made him Aemond’s nephew, the nurses had explained.

They had also explained what he was to Aria, but he didn’t quite understand it, as it was somehow much more complicated. Aegon said he understood, and Helaena had nodded, which meant she probably understood, too. She didn’t talk much, and when she did, it never made much sense.

Aegon also explained that the new babe, whose name was “Jacaerys,” but everyone just called “Jace,” was something called a bastard. It meant that Jace’s father wasn’t his father; some other man was. But that didn’t make sense. Rhaenyra was married to Laenor, which meant Laenor was Jace’s father, for the Mother only gave babes to people who were married and very much in love.

When Aemond had asked more about it, Aegon rolled his eyes and said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

It was something that was often said to Aemond and Arian, and they did not like it very much. They would have to wait a long time to be older, and they didn’t want to wait.

They also did not like that they were not allowed to play with Jace as they did with Daeron. Rhaenyra said they were “too big.” But when they asked Rhaenyra if she would play with them while Jace was sleeping, she also said no, even though she was definitely big enough. She only ever came to the nursery when Jace was awake and left the moment he fell asleep.

Aemond decided he did not like Rhaenyra.

She had never come to see him, or Aegon, or Helaena, or Aria before Jace was born. Now that she had finally come, she all but ignored them. When they tried to talk to her, she seemed annoyed. Worst of all, he had seen her giving Aria a mean look several times.

His mother did not get along with Rhaenyra very well, so he assumed it was fine not to like her.

However, his father loved Rhaenyra. He came to visit her and her babe often, which would annoy Aemond if it didn’t also mean he got to see his father more.

Since his father was the king, he was very busy and didn’t always have time to see his children in the nursery. But now that the nursery was very full with six children, he made the time, Aemond’s grandsire, who was also the Hand of the King, said.

The king spent most of his time with Jace, but that was probably because Jace was the newest. He still held Daeron, played with Arianwyn and her dragon, complimented Helaena’s insects, admired Aemond's drawings, ruffled Aegon’s hair, and read them all stories from Old Valyria – the fantastical empire where their ancestors were from.

Aemond loved those stories. So did Aria. They tried to memorize them so they could tell them to each other whenever the king wasn’t there. Sometimes, they even acted out some of the stories, with Helaena, Daeron, and several of Aria’s attendants–including her lady’s maid, Brynna, and any number of her twelve guards–as their audience.

Her attendants also told them stories about Aria’s other ancestors, the Bronze Kings. Before there were any Targaryens or Dragons in Westeros, the Bronze Kings ruled over Runestone. One day, Aria would, too.

They didn’t know what Aemond would do. He was a prince, but he wasn’t the heir. There weren’t many stories about second sons. Whenever they asked, they were again told, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” But they never worried for long. There were lots of other exciting things to think about, like when Aemond’s dragon egg would hatch.

Arianwyn looked around the large room with wide eyes. She had never been to this room before, even though she had now been to many different rooms in the Red Keep. At least Aemond was there, so she wasn’t alone. Still, she wished she had been allowed to bring her dragon – which she had named ‘Emrys’ after a recent visit from her cousin, Ser Gerold.

Brynna was also there, but she sat in a chair by the door sewing something, so she couldn’t hold Arianwyn’s hand. Aemond did so happily. She was pretty sure he was also nervous. His eyes were moving all around the room, too. But his face didn’t look afraid.

Aegon was also there, but Arianwyn didn’t find comfort in his presence. Ever since Aegon left the nursery, he became mean. He was never very nice, but Arianwyn never thought he had been mean. He liked to make jokes that were not very funny, but he laughed anyway.

Most of the jokes were about Aemond and how his egg hadn’t hatched. It didn’t make much sense to Arianwyn, as Aegon’s egg hadn’t hatched either. But he had just returned from a trip to Dragonstone – their family’s other castle – with a hatchling from a different egg. He named it Sunfyre, because it was gold and pink and shiny.

Helaena also went, and though she did not find a dragon from Dragonstone, when she went with their father and Aegon to show Sunfyre the Dragonpit, she met Dreamfyre, who was once ridden by Princess Rhaena, their grandfather’s sister. Helaena and Dreamfyre bonded almost instantly, and the king was very happy.

Aemond and Arianwyn hadn’t been allowed to go along to Dragonstone at all. Arianwyn, because she was too little and already had a dragon, and Aemond, just because he was too little. He had been sad since then, and nothing Arianwyn did seemed to cheer him up for very long.

She squeezed his hand a little, causing him to look at her, his face still empty. “Are you excited?"

At the other end of the table, Aegon scoffed. “There’s nothing to be excited about, trust me.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. The first time she did it, it annoyed Aegon, so now she did it whenever possible. “I’m excited. I want to learn everything!”

The corner of Aemond’s mouth quirked up as if he would smile. But it fell back when Aegon started talking again. “You want to learn ‘everything?’ Perhaps you should become a maester, then.”

His tone was mocking, but Arianwyn considered the possibility. The maesters had the biggest library at the Citadel in Oldtown. Perhaps she should be a master; then, she could read all the stories she wanted. But that would require her to be in Oldtown, which was very far away from Runestone.

“Can I be a maester and Lady of Runestone?” she asked.

It went completely silent. Then, Brynna sighed sadly in the corner, and Aegon started laughing.

Arianwyn’s stomach sank. Had she said something wrong? She looked around, hoping someone else would tell her why Aegon was laughing. But Brynna just looked tired, and her guard for the day, Ser Warren, looked like he was hurting, or maybe had smelled something bad. Either way, his face was all scrunched up.

“Shut up!” Aemond shouted, startling her enough that she clapped her hands over her ears. He glared at his brother, his face reddened and angry. “Don’t laugh at her!”

Aegon kept laughing. Aemond kept shouting. Ser Christor looked like he was about to panic. Brynna abandoned her sewing and ran to calm everyone down, but it didn’t work. Tears started to sting behind Arianwyn’s eyes, so she shut them tight, ducked her chin, and shook her head back and forth. That always made the nightmares go away. Maybe it would make this go away, too.

Suddenly, Aegon’s laughing and Aemond’s shouting stopped. She lifted her hands away from her ears and opened her eyes just enough to see Maester Orwyle entering the room.

“Prince Aegon, perhaps it would be wise to keep your lessons separate from Prince Aemond and Lady Arianwyn’s.” His voice was just as gentle as when he came to the nursery when one of them was sick, but Aegon still scowled at him. “Unless you would prefer to repeat the fundamentals of the curriculum?”

Aegon pushed his chair away from the table so fast it fell over and gave a smile that made Arianwyn nervous. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Ser Christor’s eyes went wide. Brynna gasped and put a hand on her chest. Aegon didn’t acknowledge them before stomping out of the room.

After the door slammed shut, Orwyle sighed. He smiled at Aemond and Arianwyn, but it seemed fake. “I am very excited you two are beginning your lessons; you have always been curious.”

He sat at the table across from them and opened a large, messy book. “Before we begin, do you have any questions about how lessons work?”

Aemond said nothing, pouting, as he often did around Aegon, with his arms crossed.

Arianwyn raised her hand above her head. “Grand Maester, what is a ‘fuck?’”

“Just grab it!”

“It’s too high!”

Arianwyn huffed, crossing her arms as she looked up at Aemond, standing atop a chair trying to reach a large leather-bound book. “Do you want me to try?”

“No!” Aemond’s face reddened. “I can do it. Besides, you’re shorter than me – how could you reach it if I can’t?”

She thought for a moment. If Emrys lived in the Keep, she could have him pry the book out, but he was in the Dragonpit now. Even after three moons, she still woke, expecting to find him tucked against her chest, fast asleep.

But he’d gotten too big to stay in the castle, and Arianwyn had to take him to the Dragonpit. The king and Aemond went with her and helped her with her High Valyrian while she explained to Emrys that he had to stay there now. It didn’t stop him from flying back to the castle for the first fortnight, but he eventually learned to stay in his den.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Maybe I’ll have an idea if I get on the chair.”

Aemond shook his head, his brow set. “No, you could fall.” Before she could get her next argument out, he continued, “I can do it. Watch.”

He braced one hand on the edge of the shelf while the other just skimmed the spine of the book they were trying to reach, then jumped. Arianwyn called his name, certain he would fall and hurt himself or even destroy the book.

But then, Aemond was again standing steady on the chair, the book in his hands and a happy grin.

“You did it!” The very moment he was off the chair, Arianwyn hugged him tightly. He could not hug her back with the heavy book in his hands, so he just dropped his head on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go read!”

She dragged him back to the table in the small alcove, where they had already set out pen and paper. Once Aemond had set the book down and opened it to the first page, she picked up the pen and got ready to write.

“Before the Andu-Andals came to Westeros, and long before Aegon Targaryen con… conchu… um…”

Arianwyn pointed to the word he struggled with. “Conquered. Remember how he’s called ‘Aegon the Conqueror?’”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I know. Con-kerd. I was just…making sure I was saying it right.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want to correct him either, so she gave him a smile and nodded for him to continue.

“…before Aegon Targaryen conquered the Seven Kingdoms with his dragons, the lands were inhuh- inhah… inhabee...”

Arianwyn again pointed at the book. “‘In-hah-bih-ted.’ I’ve heard it before but can’t remember what it means. Do you?”

“I…” He slumped, looking pointedly away from her. “No, I don’t.”

They both looked at the book for a moment before Arianwyn handed the pen and paper to Aemond. “Write it down,” she instructed. “In our lessons with Orwyle tomorrow, we can ask him.”

Aemond looked from the book to the paper, then slid the book to her. It made more sense this way, Arianwyn thought. She was better at pronouncing big words, and he was better at writing things down so they would be ‘legible,’ a word Orwyle said but had never really explained.

“In-hah-bih-ted,” Aemond said as he wrote the word down. He whispered the pronunciation a few more times before looking back at Arianwyn. “I’m ready for more.”

She smiled broadly before looking at the page again. “The lands were inhabited by the First Men, who had built mighty kingdoms that…”

When he was younger, Aemond used to look at the Dragonpit from the seat at the nursery window. For hours, he would dream about one day walking through its mighty doors, mounting his own dragon, and finally claiming his birthright as a Targaryen prince.

Now, he had half a mind to tear down those doors himself.

The task would be far easier with the assistance of a dragon, however, which at the age of eight, Aemond still did not have.

Aegon and Helaena did. His bastard nephews did, somehow. Arianwyn did. But Aemond did not.

Still, he was forced to attend lessons with the Dragonkeepers, watching the others and only imagining doing the same with his own dragon. It wasn’t so bad when Aria was with him. Aegon made jokes, but stopped when she snapped back at him. After that, he would target their nephews. Aemond sometimes even laughed with him.

But then, during one lesson, Dreamfyre snapped at the younger dragons as they pranced around her. She did not cause any physical harm, but Vermax refused to leave his den for days, and Sunfyre would splay out on all fours the moment he saw the mighty she-dragon and stay that way until she left.

After that, the Dragonkeepers decided it prudent to separate Dreamfyre from the younger dragons. Not entirely, for she needed to learn to tolerate them before they could all fly together. She would continue to train with only one – Emrys.

It made sense. Emrys annoyed Dreamfyre the least. And when Aegon made Aria mad, the black dragon would often snap at Sunfyre.

So, Aemond was left to face the torment of being a Targaryen without a dragon alone.

Without Aria there to stop him, Aegon redoubled his teasing. Worse still, the bastards figured out that if they followed Aegon’s lead and made their own jokes at Aemond’s expense, he would not make jokes about them.

The Dragonpit, once a source of hope and inspiration, was now Aemond’s hell.

It started with small, simple japes or whispered comments about his lack of a dragon. But over time, it worsened.

The remarks became crueler and, sometimes, included a crudeness that rankled Aemond. “It’s still good practice for you,” Aegon said. “Even without a dragon, you’ll still need to know how to ride whatever beast mother sends you off to marry.”

The jokes evolved past mere verbal mockery. Once, Aegon and his bastard lackeys had an old saddle that one of their ancestors had used brought in. For Aemond to practice his riding stance, they said. But when he took the seat, he found himself sitting atop a pile of dragon dung they had placed in the saddle and concealed with a sheet of burlap.

He never should have trusted them. He knew it.

But he wanted to.

He wanted to practice his riding stance, to finally sit in a dragon’s saddle, even if it was on the ground rather than an actual dragon. He wanted to feel reins in his hand and imagine the wind flowing past him. And a part of him even wanted to be friends with his brother and nephews.

That small, weak part of him was soon thoroughly snuffed out.

Just after his ninth nameday, Aemond was approached by Aegon and their nephews. He’d long since vowed not to trust them, but his brother’s words shot through his defenses like Valyrian steel through armor.

“Let’s go get you a dragon, brother.”

“What?” Aemond’s heart stopped in his chest. Had one of the she-dragons laid a new clutch of eggs, or had one of the eggs in the warming chamber hatched? Perhaps a new wild dragon had been spotted?

“Look, you’ve just celebrated your nameday,” there was something genuine in Aegon’s voice, unbelievable as it was. He set a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, but it didn’t reassure him as much as it unsettled him. “You’re nearly a man. And you’ve been training with the Dragonkeepers for so long that you’re more than ready to try and claim a dragon. Unless you’re still waiting on that egg?”

That egg, once a deep blue swirling with purple, green, and silver wisps, had turned to stone years ago. It still waited by the hearth in his chambers, just in case of a miracle. He shook his head.

Aegon smiled and turned toward the dragon dens. “Come on then, let’s go.”

“Do the Dragonkeepers know?”

Lucerys ran up behind them, a half-toothless smile splitting his face. “No! We –”

“We didn’t want to tell them because… well,” Jacaerys stuttered momentarily, and Aemond’s faith wavered.

“They wouldn’t allow it if they knew.” Aegon didn’t look back as he led them down the sloping entrance to the dragon dens. “I can’t understand why. Surely, they know you’re more than ready.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Just imagine the look on their faces when they see you come into the arena on the back of a full-grown dragon!”

And Aria, Aemond thought. She would be thrilled for him. He could picture it perfectly, the gleam of utter glee in her eyes as she smiled as wide as she could. And she would be able to ride Emrys soon, she’d told him. If he claimed an adult dragon, they could fly together.

The fantasy ended the moment the last of the daylight disappeared. That rush of anticipation faded, leaving him with only reluctance and fear.

Not that he had time to act on it before Aegon seized his arm and pointed into the massive passages lit only by distant torches. “Terrax makes his den down there.”

Aemond nearly choked as he named the formidable dragon that had hatched during Aegon the Conqueror’s reign and remained unclaimed since. “You want me to claim Terrax?”

“Yes!” Aegon spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you think you deserve one of the largest and most powerful dragons in the world?”

“I… I suppose so.”

Aegon patted Aemond’s shoulder, then pushed him forward a few steps, sand flying up around him. “Then get on!”

He made no move to follow. Neither did their bastard nephews.

“Are you not coming with me?” The thought of approaching Terrax was daunting enough. To do it alone was nearly unthinkable.

Lucerys opened his mouth, but Jacaerys thumped him before he could say anything. Aegon just held Aemond’s gaze. “We are but must follow behind, so we don’t spook Terrax. Too many unfamiliar scents will put him on edge.”

It made sense, according to everything he’d learned about dragons. Unbonded dragons were especially sensitive to unfamiliar people, it was why novice Dragonkeepers were always accompanied by an elder.

Still, this wasn’t something Aemond wanted to do alone. “But you will be behind me?”

“We will,” Aegon assured, a hint of annoyance entering his voice.

“You swear it?”

“I swear.”

Aemond searched his brother’s face for any hint of deception but found none. Either he had become a more proficient liar, or he was telling the truth. This was his brother, his future king. If he couldn’t trust Aegon, who could he trust?

He could trust Aria. Always. If only she were here, he would be far more confident. And braver – he wouldn’t let her see him afraid. If she were here, he’d march right into Terrax’s den and lay his claim. He remembered the image he’d pictured of her proud face when he told her he’d claimed a dragon and decided he would do anything to make it real.

One step forward. Two. Three.

It was not long before it was so dark that when he looked behind him, he could not see Aegon, Jacaerys, or Lucerys. But knowing they were there was still a comfort, even if he had to walk the shadowed distances between torches.

The dragon dens, at last, came into view. The first few – one on the left, two on the right – were empty. The next one on the left had a massive nest of straw, wood, and sand occupying nearly every crevice of the room.

A low growl echoed through the corridor. Perhaps it was simply a dragon snoring. Maybe one had already scented him. The only way to know for certain was to continue.

As he approached the next den on the right, the growl came again, louder this time. Aemond said a swift prayer before moving closer, as quietly as he could.

He pressed his back to the wall and crept forward, waiting for the den itself to come into view. Waiting to see what lay inside. He reached the threshold and slowly peeked into the den.

A large green eye met his.

Terrax whipped his massive head toward Aemond, letting out a piercing roar.

“Ly.. lykirī! Dohaerās!” Be calm. Serve.

Terrax did not. A glow began in his throat, and heat threatened to overwhelm Aemond.

He was going to burn him.

Aemond ran, stumbling in the sand. He had to get away, get out, escape.

“Aegon!” It was both plea and warning.

No answer came.

“Aegon!”

The heat was growing, growing, growing. A whooshing noise chased him.

“Aegon! Jacaerys! Lucerys! Help!”

The tunnel was bright as day now. Sweat rapidly formed and fell from his brow.

The fire was upon him.

He had one last prayer.

“Aria!”

Aria was waiting in the library when Aemond finally escaped the thorough scoldings he’d received from both Elder Dantis, the leader of the Dragonkeepers, and his mother. “Aemond! Come look what Ser Gerold sent from Runestone!”

He should have been thrilled, should have felt excitement rushing in his veins at the prospect of new books directly from Aria’s home. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t even heartened by the fact that she’d waited for him for so long. He felt… nothing.

“Aemond?” As he came closer, she seemed to finally notice his disheveled appearance. The ends of his hair had been burnt away, and soot and sand clung to his clothes. “What happened?”

“I…” He took his seat, keeping his gaze on the blank parchment before him. This was what they always did: sit together while Aria read, and he wrote down new words or questions they had. It was his favorite part of the day.

Why did the prospect now make him want to cry?

He shook his head.

Aria exchanged a glance with her guard – Ser Christor always seemed to be on duty while they were in the library. She moved her chair closer to his. “Lēkia?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Her voice always soothed him and made him feel happy and safe. But right now, it seemed to echo Terrax's horrible roaring.

A small, gentle hand came to rest on his. The touch… felt good—soft, safe, and cool.

But then she spoke again. “Please, are you alright?”

Aemond managed a slight nod. Terrax’s fire went above him, so he managed to escape without any burns, but his clothes and pride were ravaged. As was his faith in his brothers and nephews.

“Why won’t you say anything?” Damn it all, she was about to cry. He could not stand to hear anyone speaking right now, not even her. Yet he could not stand making her cry, either.

He picked up the quill she’d laid out for him, dipping it carelessly into the inkwell. He wrote, “I am well, but I really badly don’t feel like talking.”

“Oh…” Aria frowned but nodded. Aemond knew not talking would be hard for her; she always had so much to say. But she was willing to be silent for him. He could have kissed her for it.

She moved the book between them and began to open it before shutting it again, reaching over it, and grabbing Aemond’s parchment. There was little ink left in the quill, but she just managed to squeeze out, “Tap my hand when you want to turn the page.”

It felt like everyone in the whole world was looking at Arianwyn. It was certainly everyone in her world.

The king and queen. Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys. Ser Criston Cole. All her guards from Runestone. The Grand Maester and Orwyle. The other lords of the Small Council. Countless other lords and ladies that Arianwyn had met but did not remember well.

Ser Gerold had arrived only the day before with several lords and ladies from Runestone and their bannermen.

Even Rhaenyra was there, though she didn’t look very happy about it. Ser Laenor was next to her, Jace and Luke in front of them, their dark eyes wide as they looked at Arianwyn and Emrys. She tried not to look at their eyes for too long – it felt rude, considering those eyes were quite the source of gossip.

“Emrys umbā, āeksio.” Elder Dantis motioned toward her now-saddled dragon. “Īlos pradagon?” Emrys is ready, lady. Shall we begin?

“Issa,” Arianwyn replied. She wasn’t quite sure whether she was really ready or not, but she couldn’t disappoint all those who had come to watch her first flight. So, she approached Emrys, stroking the smooth black scales of his snout.

He had grown impressively, now nearly twice as large as the King’s wheelhouse. According to the Dragonkeepers, it was unusual for a dragon to grow this fast away from Dragonstone or Valyria. There was much speculation about why, but Arianwyn didn’t care. She would love him no matter his size, though it did help that he was already large enough to ride.

He grumbled slightly, his icy eyes glancing at the crowd and the scales and spikes along his spine flaring. In many respects, she thought, he was quite like a spoiled cat.

“Hae urnēbosy pōnte daor gaomās,” Arianwyn whispered. Try to act like they aren’t watching us.

His grumbling turned to whining.

“Sepār zūgan,” she admitted, “yn kesir kosti. Īlon kosti gīmin. Ao kostā gīmin.” I’m nervous too, but we can do it. I know we can. I know you can.”

Emrys huffed a warm breath onto Arianwyn, a gesture of affection and conceding, before nudging her toward his side and the ropes that led to the saddle.

He did not like the saddle. That much was evident from the claw marks nearly covering the worn leather and how he would roll over on his back whenever the Dragonkeepers tried to put it on. It always took Arianwyn herself to talk him into letting them. But he was getting better about it. Slightly.

The saddle was not hers. It had been passed down in the family for generations, meant for young dragons who were still growing rapidly. Still, as Arianwyn settled into the ancient, worn leather, she could not help but think it fit her perfectly.

She dared one more glance at the crowd. The king was beaming. The queen looked as though she were about to faint. Ser Gerold and her Runestone guards looked to be somewhere between the two. Rhaenyra wasn’t even looking, though her husband and sons were.

Arianwyn looked last at her cousins. Helaena wore the same dreamy expression she always did, though her lips seemed to be moving slightly. Aegon was harder to read. She had expected him to look at her disdainfully or mockingly, but he didn’t. He looked happy, though it didn’t make much sense.

And Aemond. Her heart ached to look at him. She knew he was happy for her – more than happy, even. But being here today must also cause him such pain, driving home the fact that he still had not claimed a dragon. Guilt stung in her chest. She should have told him she wouldn’t mind if he stayed behind at the Keep.

But then, he smiled. There was still longing in his eyes for his own mount, but he smiled so brightly that Arianwyn soon smiled back, suddenly anxious to show him what she could do. She straightened her posture and grasped the reins.

“Emrys! Sōvēs!”

By the time Emrys again landed in the courtyard of the Dragonpit, he had entirely shed his dislike of his saddle. As he flew over King’s Landing, he had trilled and hooted his delight for all to hear. Arianwyn had as well, shouting and hollering with every move – rising on an air current, diving so low Emrys’ wings skimmed the surface of Blackwater Bay, and pitching around the towers and spires of the Red Keep.

Neither had ever felt so alive. But it was time to return to the ground.

Arianwyn was swarmed the moment she dismounted.

The king reached her first, clapped her on the back, and told her how proud her father would be if he were there. It was meant to be a comfort, but she flinched at the words. If he were there. But he was never there. She was nearly ten years old, but she had never met Prince Daemon, or even received a message from him.

Fortunately, the queen noticed her discomfort and subtly pushed past her husband to embrace her. “You were brilliant, Aria,” Alicent said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Not bad at all.” Aegon, to her surprise, had also approached. He smiled at her. “Might even call it good.”

Arianwyn rolled her eyes. “How generous of you.”

He smirked. “I’m known to be sincere on rare occasions.”

She didn’t have a chance to snap back at him before she was lifted into the air and spun around. Ser Gerold held her close to his chest, and she swore she heard tears in his voice. “A dragon riding Royce! Who could have ever guessed? Oh, if only your mother could see this.”

“Would she be happy?” Arianwyn was suddenly gripped with fear that her mother would disapprove of her riding Emrys. Perhaps it was too far from Royce tradition for the late Lady of Runestone to tolerate.

Gerold lifted her so she could look directly into his dark gray eyes. “If your mother saw you now…” He really was crying now, but he smiled. “She would be so happy, Aria. She would be so thrilled that she might even ask to ride Emrys herself.”

Never able to resist his smile, Arianwyn smiled back. “Emrys isn’t quite large enough for two right now. But I would take her the moment he was.”

He finally set her down, his eyes flicking away for a moment. “I’m so proud of you, Aria. But I think there’s someone who also wants to say so.” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around.

Aemond was standing precisely where he was when Emrys had taken flight. He held his hands behind his back and looked away when Arianwyn met his gaze.

She had to push through more admirers – her guards, the Small Council, and other adults she couldn’t recall the names of. But they didn’t matter right now.

Yet when she stopped in front of Aemond, she didn’t know what to say. Talking about her flight might make him feel bad, but she so badly wanted to share her joy with him. Impulsively, she threw her arms over his shoulders and hugged him.

After a moment, he hugged her back.

“You’re amazing, Aria,” he whispered.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulders. “You are, too.”

Aemond laughed almost disdainfully. Arianwyn held him tighter. “It’s true! One day, you will have a dragon, and I know you will be the fiercest rider our family has ever seen. Then, we can fly together, you and me.”

He let out a shaking breath but held her tighter, too. She could hear the faint smile in his voice. “You and me, Aria. Forever.”

“Forever.”

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