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#Stark!Reader
arcielee · 2 months
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The Dragon and the Wolf
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Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2700+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, kissing, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, slight overstimulation, creampie. Author’s Note: This was the poll winner! 💜 Thank you to my lovelies @aemondsbabe and @valeskafics for helping me brainstorm the title. No beta, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. This will be a series of one-shots of the moments between Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Northern bride-to-be (which I pulled from my OC!Stark x Aemond Targaryen story, but whatever). There will be fluff and there will be smut. Enjoy!
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You could feel the panicked gaze from your handmaiden, her visceral exasperation spilling as she watched you pace the room, but you could not hold still. 
Not tonight, not after that kiss.
She begged until you finally allowed her to help you change into your nightgown, despite how your skin felt aflame. She then took your hand to lead you to the vanity to sit, to hold still, to allow her to brush and braid your hair for bed, just as she had every night since you first arrived to the Red Keep months ago.
You had traveled from Winterfell at the behest of your brother, a promise to see through what the late King Jaehaerys failed to accomplish: to solidify the bond between the North and South kingdoms. Cregan saw no harm with the capital’s proposal, as you had already scorned all of the Northern lords who called for your hand. 
“Who knows, sister,” his eyes twinkled just as your father’s had when he was still alive, “perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” 
You had scoffed, but soon realized how right Cregan had been, that you were enamored from the moment you met Aemond. The rest of the Keep seemed to fade away as you watched him, his imposing severity that settled into the sharp contours of his face and in the way he held himself. He towered you; he watched you with his one eye, a lovely lavender that flitted over you, while the other was hidden beneath a leather patch with the wrathful scar that curled above and below. 
You remembered the touch of his hand–his palm calloused and warm and gentle–when he took your own; you recalled the spill of silver as he leaned forward and the softness of his lips against your knuckles with his kiss. Even his low timbre soothed you as he repeated your name; the introduction left you blood rising to the surface. 
Your courtship with the prince was something to be displayed–an ailing king’s desperate grasp at legacy. Aemond played the role of the perfect, regal gentlemen, but you wished to pull him away from the prying eyes of the court, to learn everything about the infamous one-eyed Targaryen prince.
There were stolen moments scattered with Aemond and you collected them piece by piece, but still you were rarely, if ever, allowed a moment to be truly alone with him. 
It was not until the crowned princess returned to the capital, and the chaos that followed and ruined the family supper, that you were able to follow after Aemond, out into the gardens of the Red Keep. 
You recognized his silhouette at once, and moved closer until you saw his ethereal glow from how the moon poured over him. Your tone was soft at first, a teasing kindness until you saw the upwards curl of his lips, and you dared giggle with your encouragement that he should teach you swear words that would best describe his nephews in High Valyrian. 
And then something changed, something shifted. Aemond stepped closer and you felt the cool night air pull away, enveloped by his warmth, the scent of smoke and leather and sandalwood. His palm moved to cup the side of your face and then he kissed you. 
This was your first truly intimate moment you shared with your betrothed. And it was also your first kiss. 
You sighed sweetly in his mouth, a kindled passion that thrummed from where his hands touched your hips, his hold to pull you closer only to quickly recoil once one of the Cargyll knights finally found you both. 
The White Cloak then escorted you back to your quarters, your steps lead-filled, and here you were expected to sit still as your handmaiden fret over your hair. 
But you could not sit still, hence why your slippered foot tapped the stone floor, your heart pounding violent against your chest as that kiss in the garden replayed in your mind…
“Please, my lady,” your handmaiden squeaked, the ivory comb tangling in your hair.
Your hands flared out to ward off her touch, your tone cutting. “Thank you, but that is enough. You are relieved from your duties for the rest of the night,” you stood up, pushing the poor girl and sending her stumbling towards the door. 
Her eyes were wide. “I–I have not finished with–” 
“I have hands of my own,” you grabbed the silk robe to cover yourself, “I shall manage,” and when you turned to step towards the girl once more, she squeaked again. She moved to open the door and paused to see Prince Aemond already poise, his one arm tucked behind his back and the other lifted as if he meant to knock. 
It was an eternal silence; Aemond looked startled, but his gaze eventually found yours, and you stared back, unabashed, burning from the sight of him. 
Meanwhile your handmaiden, mortified, shrank to slip past the prince and leave.
Only when you heard the soft sound of the door closing behind did you find the courage to move towards Aemond, reaching for his tunic and pulling him close. You fell into him, your lips hungry for his own and he returned your passion before slowing to savor, his tongue running your bottom lip and then curling into your mouth. 
It continued until your breath was an exchange between, his exhale becoming your inhale and trilling through your veins, pumping your heart. Your mind was clouded with his proximity–you felt giddy and your hands twisted into his tunic to hold yourself upright. 
He hummed, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest. A shy sigh spilled when you felt his length pressing through the fabric and against your stomach, a bolt of warmth and want curling together. But your passion was replaced with a trepidation, something that now curdled instead. 
You broke the kiss, a rosiness spilling from your lips to your cheeks, to the tip of your nose: “I lost my maidenhead on horseback.” You felt your blood thicken with your confession. “But I have never been…” 
The words would not come, but Aemond did not need them. Instead he closed the little space you created, his warm palms moving to cup your face and bring you back to capture your lips with a tender kiss. 
“I will be gentle,” his low timbre promised. “I do not wish to hurt you.” 
You believed him, as you had seen his actions that spoke far louder during your time at the capital. He had always shown you a careful consideration since the courtship began, but now you found that you could not wait another moment. 
Your fingers pulled at the silk robe you had thrown on, allowing it to slip from your shoulders and puddle onto the floor. Your hands moved to the lacing that lined the front of your nightgown, but you paused, pinned under the lavender of his eye. 
His chest rose and fell with his steadied breath a moment before he offered his hands, his slender fingers gentle to loosen the ties. Aemond stopped to place kisses on the slope of your shoulder, your chest, a soft tickle of his lips as more of your skin was bared to him. 
You felt vibrant, ignited by his touch, and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the flush of rose that now stained his skin. You pulled at your skirts, grabbing the bottom hem and peeling it over, dropping it into the silk puddle already at your feet. 
Lust now swallowed the lavender, but Aemond only hummed his admiration as his gaze slowly dragged from your face, following your curves and then returning to meet with your eyes again. 
“Gevie,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips. 
You burned, cursing your Septa for the little Valyrian she indulged to teach you, too shy to ask now for a translation, but bold enough to reach for him. Your fingers touched the buckles of his tunic. Aemond hummed again as you began to undress him, until he was bare from the waist up, and the heat that pooled from him now seeped and curled into your core. 
His form was lean, taut, with a muscular definition and its decoration of silver scars scattered across his chest and his abdomen. Your fingers trailed the lines that cut into his trimmed waist, and then you stepped closer to press a soft kiss to the right side of his jaw. 
Aemond caught your chin, bringing your lips to meet with his own again. His kiss was drawn out, wringing the air from your lungs but still so gentle that you could not help but melt into his chest, into the warmth that he embodied. 
Your fingers reached to touch his jaw but paused, a hovering hesitation. He took your hand and brought it back to cradle against his chest, watching you. You swallowed. “Aemond, please,” you began slowly, your voice careful, “I wish to see all of you.”
His jaw steeled with your request, tense for that moment but then he reached with his other hand to remove the eyepatch. The crimson seemed bolder, brighter, cutting through from his brow and into his cheek, and you also saw that placed in his scarred socket was a sapphire stone that glittered in the amber light of the room. 
You pressed to your tiptoes, your fingertips touching to tilt his jaw down and you pressed a kiss beneath, your lips careful to trail his maim before placing another against his cheek. “Ñuha zaldrīzes,” but you were slow with the only Valyrian you knew, and finished with another kiss to his lips. 
My dragon. 
His expression was unreadable, and for a moment you believed that you had ruined the practiced pronunciation. But then Aemond moved to wrap his arms back around your waist, his face burying into the softness of your neck and his hands grabbing into the curves of your hips. Your laughter spilled as you felt him lift you enough for your feet to not touch the stone floors, your arms wrapping around his neck, and Aemond moved with wide steps, bringing you back towards your bedside. 
You fell back onto the mattress, looking up at him. His neck bobbed as his eye followed the pink hues that now spilled from your cheeks to your neck and onto your chest. Your nipples were peaked and your eyes shone bright as he stepped closer, climbing onto the bed and moving on top of you.
He tucked his head to trace the slope of your neck with his lips and your back arched with the desire to feel his chest against your bare skin, a fluttered moan spilling from you. Aemond moved lower, placing warm, open mouthed kisses that scorched your skin, with a warmth that was pouring into your core. 
Aemond continued lower, his silver tresses spilling and tickling your skin as he moved between your plush thighs. You mewled with the touch of his lips to the inside, and your thighs squeezed to stop him. 
You are breathless. “It tickles.” 
He only hummed, reaching to press his hand onto your stomach, a comforting touch as his fingers traced abstract lines on your skin. “Let me,” and his exhale was titillating as he nestled back between. 
Aemond was careful with his touch, just as he always showed himself to be. He was aware of your every sound and sigh, pacing himself with a slow rhythm that began to build until his clever tongue had you pinned to the mattress. 
You blossomed with bated breath, grabbing fistfuls of the bed linen to ground yourself from falling into the trance of his ministrations. You felt a prod at your entrance, his finger curling within, and your pleasure fluttered up your spine. It was too much and you writhed from his mouth, but his other hand moved underneath your thigh, gripping into your soft flesh, halting you. 
Let me.
Aemond quickened his pace, encouraged by your quiet pants, from how your heartbeat now pulsed around the digits that were knuckle deep in you. You felt Aemond pulling you towards a precipice that was consuming, a warmth that crashed against and spilled throughout. Your heart still bruised against your ribs from the cresting tremors of your fading pleasure, and only then did you notice it. 
How Aemond grinned smugly against your wet cent. 
You reached with boneless fingers that tangled into his silver hair, pulling him back so you could capture his mouth that now glistened with you. It was your own bittersweet taste on his lips and you felt emboldened to grab his waistband. When your fingers brushed against his heavy bulge that pressed the crotch of his slacks, a sweeping shyness returned. 
He pulled back with a sly smile, removing them before he moved back on top. His arms cage you to the bed and your skin rose with how his breath fanned against your cheeks. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he repeated after a moment, but his heavy hesitation lifted as you pulled him into the cradle of your hips.  
You sighed from how he molded into the softness of your body, and Aemond gave another savoring kiss. “Please, Aemond,” your eyes wet from your want, and his head dipped to watch as he grabbed the base, careful to line himself with your entrance. 
Aemond paused with a new trepidation that settled along the rose hues that dusted his sharp features. You squirmed beneath him, searching for friction, to feel the blunt press of his cockhead against your silken folds. 
“Aemond,” you now plead, a honeyed whisper, another kiss to encourage him, “I want you.” 
He watched you as he pressed forward, and you felt a stretch, a fullness as his hips moved against yours. You tensed from the new sensation, your nails biting and leaving red crescent marks that startled against the white of his skin. 
Aemond stilled at once, allowing you a moment to adjust, his brow furrowed with his concern. You then let out a soft exhale before tilting your chin to give him a kiss, a promise that you were fine. 
And only then did Aemond move, slowly, carefully, with each gentle thrust that split you further as he sheathed himself fully within you. It rekindled a deeper passion, and your eyes widened with a small gasp; he dipped his head to press his lips to your neck, decorating the column with his kisses, your pulse thrumming beneath. It began to ripple through you and your thighs tightened around his slender waist, beckoning him closer still. 
“Aemond,” you gasped.
He hummed his acknowledgement, pushing himself up. He used one arm for balance while his other hand moved to press onto your hip, his palm trailing closer to your bloom above, his thumb moving in circles. 
You felt raw, sensitive still from before, and something sparked with his touch. The air was thick and caught in your throat; a passion spilled from you without the same tensity from the first time, though still with a melody that played sweetly throughout your veins. 
Your velvet walls clenched with your climax and it pulled Aemond after. He groaned his own release, melting against you and burying his face back into the curve of your neck. You gasped again from how he pulsed between your legs, his heart rattling through to your bones. 
After a moment,  Aemond rolled to the side, his chest expanding to catch his breath before he reached to pull you to curl against him, equally breathless and aglow. Your arm was thrown across, your face pressed against to feel the rhythm of his heart, his seed spilling onto your thigh; his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin. 
He leaned to press another kiss to your hairline, and he whispered the same word from before. “Gevie.” 
“What does that mean?” You cannot help your grin, tilting your head back to look at him. 
His other hand came round, a finger pressed to your cheek to look at you. “Beautiful,” he said and then he gave you another kiss. 
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Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @hb8301 @namelesslosers
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arcie's masterlist
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vxntagedior · 1 year
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Can you do a Bucky barnes x stark reader, preferably with an age gap. Like maybe they are trying to hide their relationship but somehow it got out.
dog tags
summary | bucky's prized possession is what exposes your relationship with him
pairing | bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader
warning | fluff, secret relationship, angst-ish
word count | 1.0k
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“Buck.” You whispered, tilting your head back even farther, giving him more access to his neck. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”
As much as you didn’t want to be out in the open, you weren’t trying that hard to get him to remove himself from the crook of your neck. 
Letting out a quiet moan when Bucky sucked on your neck, gripping onto his hair tighter. 
“You say that babydoll,” He whispered into your ear, “your brain is saying one thing but your body is saying another.”
Finally being able to push him away, you kissed him one more time, your hands gripping onto his collar, your tongue gliding against his bottom lip, before pushing into his mouth. His tongue fought with yours, trying to gain the dominance, knowing it really wasn’t working. 
“Goodnight Mr. Barnes.” You whispered, starting to walk into your arm, your hand finally slipping from his.
“Goodnight Miss. Stark.”
-
Coming down for breakfast the next morning, woken up by the F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the third time this week, changing out of your pajamas and brushing your teeth before coming down.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed again.” Sam snorted, seeing your face, your eyes droopy, sleep marks still present on your face.
“Shut up.” You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you even awake?”
Sam just laughed, pouring you a cup of coffee, setting it down by your usual spot at the table. 
You ignored all the conversations around you, continuously drinking your coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in at any minute now.
“Jesus, Y/n!” Hearing your name, you looked up to see your brother looking at you, his mouth wide open and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, “Who attacked you?”
Confused, you looked dumbfounded at him. Seeing Natasha next to him, pointing towards your neck, you looked down, seeing some hickies left on your collarbone and assuming there were more on your neck. 
“Oh.” You sighed, giving a small smile, “Sorry, kind of got a little heated last night.”
The team thought you were going out with a guy you had met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop, something to steer them off the path of you and Bucky being together. 
Your relationship with him was going on 5 months now and you still hadn’t told the team. Neither of you weren’t in the mood for everyone to know and Bucky knew if the press heard about it, the two of you would plastered over the whole city in no time.
“I want to give you something.” You shifted yourself to sit up on your side, looking over at Bucky. Twisting to grab something off his nightstand before looking back at you. “I want you to wear them.
Resting them in your palm, you looked down at his dog tags. You remembered him telling you that was one of the only things that he kept before he was captured, and he kept it with him as a keep sack. 
“B,” You whispered, running your finger over the grooves of his name, “I can’t take these.”
“I want to have them.” Taking them he placed them over your head, letting them fall right between your collarbones. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
-
You stayed in the command room that was able to hold all signals whenever someone went on missions. 
It was Bucky’s first solo mission with the team and you were more than nervous. Your eyes looked at every screen, your finger fiddling with his dog tags. 
“How long?” You turned to see Steve, standing by the doorway, not knowing how long he was there. 
You just sighed, “6 months.”
Steve could tell the minute you left how on edge you were and seeing his dog tags confirmed it all. 
Walking towards you, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “He’s okay, you know how he is, he’ll be back all fine.”
You just simply nodded, your hand still clutching onto his dog tags. Giving you another squeeze, Bucky left you to your own accords. 
The mission lasted for another two days, and when you saw that the Quinjet was getting closer and closer to New York, you made your way up to the tarmac. The rest of the team was already there when you arrived, seeing the Quinjet made its way through the clouds. 
Watching as the Quinjet landed, you were impatient waiting for him to come out. Watching as the landing strip opened, seeing Bucky walk down the steps, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 
Looking up, Bucky saw you running up towards him, instantly wrapping your arms around him. Letting out a grunt, he wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he continued to walk towards the rest of the Avengers.
The rest of the team looked shocked at you, seeing you continue to hold onto Bucky.
“Uh, what is this?” Tony looked at the two of you, mostly you. 
“Surprise.” You whispered towards your brother, still stuck to Bucky’s side. “We’re together.”
“Why did you keep it a secret?”
“I knew.” Steve interjected. 
“We did too.” Clint gestured towards the rest of the team. You looked over at them confused, “You’re not that slick, and Tony was just too obsessed with himself to notice you and Barnes are together.”
You looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you. 
“Missed you.” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.  
“Gross!” You turned to see your brother looking like a teenage girl. “I know everyone knows I’m not Barnes’s best friend but if you hurt my little sister, I’ll personally send you to a living hell.”
“Of course Stark.” Bucky nodded. Pulling you with him, he took you back into his apartment. 
“Don’t have to hide anymore.” He whispered in your ear, tucking his head into your neck, pressing open-lip kisses all over. 
“Buck.” You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair before pulling him off you. “If I’m not on your bed in the next 30 seconds, I’m leaving.”
Letting out a gasp, seeing everything upside down and over Bucky’s shoulder as he carried you towards the bed, dropping you down like a sack of potatoes. 
Smiling, you removed his gear, pulling you closer towards him. 
“Good to have you back Sargeant.”
fin.
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kurogxrix · 11 months
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Hallway Runaways
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Peter Parker x Stark!reader
IN WHICH you are on the verge of taking Peter’s virginity on your 18th birthday, but god forbid your father and teammates just have to interrupt the moment.
WC: 3.6k
Warnings: Mentions of sex, tony stark is a warning of his own, making out, reader is Tony’s adopted daughter, getting caught, semi-public sexual encounters, grinding.
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The sound of your heels clicking against the cold tiled floor was all that could be heard resonating around the vacant hallway. Well that apart from the few sounds of complaint that’s left Peter’s mouth, as well as the muffled laughter that escaped yourself. You were more than done with this chase, the hallways were dark and you knew that Peter had a better advantage than you in this situation because of his enhanced senses.
Why was Peter Parker chasing you exactly? Well it had all started while the both of you were just a few floors below with the rest of the avengers, where you should’ve been right now. Today was finally your 18th birthday, and having Tony Stark as a father meant no little celebration. Even if it was just with the people that you considered family, he’d find a way to make everything extravagant and boujee. 
Though you had to admit as you looked past the overdoing of your father, it truly was an enjoyable evening in the company of the people you loved, a certain spiderman a little more than the others. Dinner was passed by a wonderful meal and a few dirty jokes made by none other than your father, making a reddish colour rise on Peter’s neck. You found his ability to get flustered by little to nothing so adorable, the cutest virgin that you knew, there was no doubt in that. 
Everyone was finally settled, apart from the constantly arguing Asgardian brothers, one of which Tony had begrudgingly invited. The sight of the innocent Peter trailing around with his eyes glued to his phone aroused an idea from the corners of your mind. He was most probably scrolling on some news report about Spiderman, given the goofy smile on his face, and he could most probably feel you sneaking up to him because of his spidey senses. Though he played into your game, allowing you to rip the phone from his oddly loose grip and run away from him, not without throwing in a tentative sentence to get him going. 
It wasn’t anything weird to Peter, although it should be. Two 18 year olds chasing one another like children down the halls of your father’s tower. It was even more absurd as you both got onto the tower's elevator, standing beside each other quietly like you both hadn’t been in a friendly chase. He wasn’t even sure that those stilettos of yours were meant for this chase, but he’d always be there to catch you heroically if you ever did fall back. 
Peter couldn’t help a smile from forming on his face as he watched your figure stagger before him, managing to catch yourself before slipping embarrassingly on your face. He observed the way you bent your knees slightly before turning to the curve, running straight as though you had a clear idea of where you wanted to go.
To be honest with himself, Peter had developed feelings for you ever since Tony had introduced the both of you. 
The smirk on your father’s face went unnoticed as you both stared at each other upon first meeting, unspeaking as you took in every single feature of the other in. His feelings only continued to grow for you as time went by, having his heart race manically against his ribcage as you treated his wounds with such intense care and a delicacy that he ignored you could hold, being a Stark and all. 
Now as he ran with you idiotically, the suit that he had borrowed from your father swaying with the speed, he couldn’t help but feel an intense feeling of ecstasy. You both rounded the corner before Peter had spotted it, the familiar view of your room door. He was no stranger to your intentions, hiding away behind your closed door with his unlocked phone in hand. Not like he had much to hide, just the thousand word essay of confessions that he sent to Ned about his feelings towards you, nothing to fret about. 
You let out a sound of surprise once you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your midsection, trapping you against a chiselled chest that you knew much of. It seemed like Peter’s mind had finally caught up on the fact that you could discover his very badly hidden feelings towards you as you held his phone in your hand.
“Thought you could get away from me? Must I remind you that I’m piderman?” Peter breathed out, his warm breath fanning your neck as he spoke. His hands were still gripping onto your hips unrelentlessly, making the option of you ripping away from his hold completely futile. Instead you opted with thrashing around in his arms, though the pair of you burst out laughing as you realised that your strength really was nothing compared to Peter’s. 
The fabric of your dress scrunched up around your middle as you struggled in his embrace, riding up your thighs as you felt the cool air hitting the previously covered area. Finally, the thrashing stopped as you gave up, leaning your whole body against Peter as you craned your neck back so that the top of your head was flushed against him. 
Peter gulped as he tried to ignore the feeling of you being so pressed up against him, in certain areas more than others. He closed his eyes for a second, head tilting upwards towards the ceiling as he audibly gulped. Aunt May had taught him to be a gentleman and to respect women, but god was it hard to retain the rush of blood ploughing towards his nethers as the girl of his dreams was literally  pushed up on him. 
Peter brought a hand up towards his head of curls, running a hand through them as he tried to soothe his nerves. God forbid he popped a boner right there against you, in the middle of the fucking hallways. He wasn’t sure that he’d ever mentally recover if it did happen, or even worse, if you reacted badly to it. Who was he kidding, of course you’d react badly to your best friend being completely bricked up from just playing fight with yo-
“Peter…” the whisper of his name brought him back to the current moment, his mind hesitating at your tone. You moved your body slightly to meet his gaze, and at that moment Peter had understood why you had called out for him. 
Shit
He nearly let out a satisfied groan as your hips brushed against his, but he managed to save himself from further embarrassment. He was frozen in fear, unwilling to believe that his body had betrayed him in such a way. Though Peter was able to keep his spiderman secret away from many people, the evident tent in his pants was much harder to hide. Especially when you had already seen it, yet even felt it. 
Oh and how much he wished for the floor to open up and swallow him whole at the moment, until the soft touch of your hand on his arm woke him up from his pity party. 
“Hey, what’s going on in that little brain of yours?” you attempted to joke, bringing a closed fist up towards his head as you knocked on it. Peter tried to stifle a tiny laugh as you joked about the size of his brain, that for sure was anything but little. “You don’t have to be ashamed Peter, I-I mean things like this are natural and you can’t control it at times.” 
You tried to reassure him, bringing a hand to caress the man’s cheek softly. Though his eyes were still full of humiliation and discomfort, looking for some sort of exit that he could run off to if anything went bad. 
“If anything I apologise, I shouldn't have been all pressed up against you like this..” you knew that it was stupid of you to apologise, given that you had nothing to be sorry for, but you weren’t about to let your bestfriend drown in embarrassment any longer. 
“No-no I mean, I'm the one that pulled you in and everything…” he looked away, avoiding your gaze at all cost as he spoke slowly. “Look, I’m so-so sorr-“ 
You cut off the rambling boy with the smooth slip of your lips against his, knocking him back slightly as he nearly stumbled from shock. He looked like the cutest idiot like this, his eyes wide open as he stared down at you to confirm if this was all real, though your eyes were closed, he reckoned that he should be doing the same. Once the initial surprise had passed him, Peter allowed himself to lean into the kiss more. His hands hesitantly but firmly regained their position onto your hips as he squeezed the flesh there, scrunching the already out-of-place, heightened fabric of your dress. 
Your lips were so soft and they moved fluidly against his own, like they were meant to be together. Peter couldn’t help himself but pull you flush against him once he felt your arms wrapping against his neck, pulling out an audible gasp out of you as his little problem resurfaced once more. 
Breaking the kiss, you both couldn’t help but burst out laughing for whatever reason. Maybe from the stupid flow of events, or most probably because Thor had slipped (with much consent) some of his Asgardian alcohol into your drinks. Whatever, it helped cease the previous tension that was drowning you both, now reduced to dust as you both stared into each other’s eyes so tenderly. 
“I always knew you had a little something for me, Spider-man.” you teased Peter, bringing your other hand up to caress the soft skin of his cheeks. Holding back the urge to giggle at the rise of pinkish colour along his neck, you leaned impossibly closer to him. 
“Oh and please, if by little you mean enormous, then sure u do!” Peter joked, making the both of you double over with laughter. Somewhat his joke was not even close to being funny, but something about this moment made everything that came out of Peter’s mouth so amusing to you. 
Suddenly, Peter’s laughter was cut short as he felt your hand dip from his cheeks and onto the area at the back of his neck. He suppressed a shudder as you ran your fingers up and down across the shorter hairs at the back of his head, and his smile dropped completely as his eyes crossed your own. God, that extreme feeling of nervousness was resurfacing and suddenly, the tightness in his pants was made 100x more aware. 
“I can help you with that, if you want me to.” you whispered quietly as if you were talking to yourself, but Peter had heard you as clear as day. The hairs on his arms raised at your choice of words, he knew exactly what you meant, and damn was he ready for it. The look in your eyes just screamed ‘desire’ to Peter, and he’d be lying if he said his didn’t reflect the same feeling. The shy little nod of his head made you chuckle slightly to yourself. 
His chest tightened as one of your hands lowered towards his abdomen, caressing your way down his body. You maintained eye contact with him all the way down his stomach, searching in them if this was okay for you to do. His eyes were unrelenting, swirling with passion as he gave you the go to continue your hand’s trail. 
Your left hand ended up on his upper thigh, teasing Peter as you were millimetres away from relieving the ache in his pants. You couldn’t help but admit that the fine material of your father’s pants (Tony had passed them to Peter because let’s be real, he was too broke to afford his own) felt uncomfortable under your own fingertips. You wanted to feel skin, raw, naked skin belonging to the boy that was currently looming over you. 
Your other hand was still busy playing with Peter’s hair as his were still glued to your hips. Without any type of warning, Peter pursued your lips in a bruising kiss. The sheer force of the kiss nearly sent you tumbling back, but his strong grip kept you grounded. Peter kissed you with a passion that you ignored a virgin boy could hold, you could only imagine the things that he was going to do to you. Or the things that he wishes you would do to him.
Top or bottom tonight, it didn’t matter to you. As long as you got to spend the night with the boy that haunted your feelings, then you’d be able to die happy. 
You both kissed until you felt your lungs yelling at you for air, breaking away reluctantly from each other to breathe in loudly. His lips didn’t stray much further as they were back on yours just as quickly as they left. Unexpectedly, you dipped your hand a little lower to cup the bulge in Peter’s pants, urging for any type of reaction from him. His first instinct was to gasp, the feeling of your touch felt so gratifying after the minutes spent ignoring his little problem. 
You wasted no time to take advantage of his newfound pleasured state, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you led the kiss. Peter was quick to recover after that, his tongue fighting against yours for dominance. He was a little sloppy, and you could tell that he had kissed before but never to this extent. You weren’t complaining though, his eagerness sent a sharp tingly feeling towards your core. 
The hushed groans and moan that left Peter’s mouth as you continuously rubbed him felt like music to your ears. He was definitely a very vocal man in that domain, and you were going to enjoy every single second of it. It was your turn to groan as you felt Peter’s hands pushing you towards the walls of the hallway, trapping you between his arms as you continued your assault in each other’s mouth. 
When your lungs began to burn once more, your mouth left the man’s to rest your face in between the crook of his neck. He was so close to you, close enough that you could feel his hardened cock brushing against your lower stomach. You could hear his laboured breathing picking up the pace as you rubbed him faster, getting enough of the pieces of fabric that was separating you both. 
Your hand rushed towards the buckle of his belt, only to stutter halfway as you wondered if he was actually ready for all of this. You didn’t want Peter to wake up tomorrow regretting everything that had happened between you two, you weren’t sure that your heart could handle the heartbreak. Though at the feeling of Peter’s lips leaving slobbery kisses against your neck, you knew that he was more than ready for it. 
Without further hesitation, his buckle fell easily under your skilled fingers. Pulling the leather stripe from the belt loops made Peter’s hips collide with yours once more, making your movements rush with anticipation. Oh and you were so close to finally touching him, giving the man the release that he desired and deserved so much. Your hand pulled as his zipper, dipping into his pants just when-
“Wow-“ the familiar booming voice had you both freezing for a second, before you quickly rushed off each other. Peter was sure that his cheeks must’ve been beet red, not only from the previous rush of hands and feelings, but from the fact that you had both been caught by no other than your father. 
You brushed your dress down, fixing the fabric that had scrunched up under his grip. You were burning with embarrassment, and as much as you wished that you didn’t need to face your father, you knew that you had to be the first one to do it. Peter was still busy fumbling with his belt, the leathery fabric slipping under his sweaty, anxious fingers. 
As you turned around to see the probably disgusted face of your father, you were met with the sight of not one, but two other Avengers. Thor, that was probably too shit-faced to even remember this event by tomorrow morning, and the poor bruce that had most probably been dragged here against his will. If you didn’t wanna kill yourself before, this definitely made you want to start digging your own grave. 
“I see that you two have found each other, given that we were all searching for you both earlier.” Tony teased, as per usual. Even after finding his daughter in such a compromising position with his intern, his first instinct was to tease you both about it. Sure enough, the disgusted expression did come afterwards.  
“I’m sure they found waaaay more than just each other!” Thor laughed loudly, patting your father harshly amongst the bag with those huge arms. You watched as your dad threw the Asgardian man a look while Bruce simply smiled sympathetically at you both. Now that Peter had finally been able to fasten his belt, he was now standing besides you with a mirroring guilty expression. Maybe, making out as two horny young-adults in the middle of the hallways was not the ideal thing to do after all. 
You both snapped your heads back towards Tony as he cleared his throat. Now that he had stopped moving weirdly to retain Thor from hitting him on the back once more, you noticed the cold bottle of champagne that was gripped tightly between his fingers. The expensive bottle cost nearly nothing to the billionaire, he lifted it in the air for you both to see, unafraid of it falling to its peril. 
“We came looking for you both to cut the cake and have a drink, but it seems like you two were a little busy,” Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter, his eyes shaded by his dark glasses. You could hear a slight tone of irritation in his voice, but after all what dad wouldn't be after catching his daughter fondling with some guy in plain air. He sighed at both of your silences, clearly too embarrassed to even form the words. 
After a few seconds of further awkward silence, you watched as your father tumbled through his pocket in the search of something. Checking every single of his suit pockets, he finally found what he was looking for. 
“That’s for you, boy.” was all that came out from Tony’s mouth as he pulled out a piece of square packaging from his pocket, throwing it towards Peter, who caught it square with the help of his abilities. His eyes widened at the packaged condom that now sat flat on his hands, fumbling to put it in his pocket as he tried to mutter something back to your father, although he was quicker than Peter. He always was. 
“Don’t need no lil’ Parker’s runnin’ wild round this tower anytime soon, one’s already enough,” he teased, whispering the last part to himself. “Now, I'm gonna call you both in around 10 minutes for all of us to gather. No Fonduing with my daughter in that time-range, got it Underoos?” 
Although your father’s tone was playful at the start of his sentence, you could see his stare harden as he finished. You were drowning in embarrassment from the moment that they had walked in on you both, and your father running his mouth just made you sink further down the waters of shame. Finally, after what felt like hours, you were rejoiced to see the backs of your father and teammates as they walked back towards the elevator. 
You heard Peter release a loud breath of relief once the elevator tinged, shoving your hands towards your face as you tried to shove the embarrassment away. Great, you were most likely sure that this whole thing had killed Peter’s boner. You wanted nothing more than to give him a memorable moment for his first time, but it seemed like life was really against you. 
“Hey…” you flinched as you felt Peter’s hand upon your shoulder, suddenly turning around to meet his face. There was guilt swirling all up in his beautiful brown iris, even though none of this was his fault. 
“I’m sorry for…all of this,” you mention towards the area where the 3 Avengers previously were, making Peter chuckle. “It’s a mood killer I know, I just wanted you to have a good time.” you looked down, all the previous feelings catching up to you. 
“Aye, aye, aye. None of that!” Peter urged forward, gripping your jaw gently into his hand, the other resting softly on your cheek. You couldn’t help the smile that drew itself on your face at his actions, always such a gentleman despite the situation. He smiled right back at you, and you felt your heart race at the view. Nobody could lie and say that Peter wasn’t an attractive man, everything about him was desirable and you wanted to prove that to him. 
“If anything, the mood is definitely not killed.” he muttered, making you tilt your head to the side in confusion of his words before he pulled you in again by the hips. You gasped as you felt it, his arousal that poked you once more by the lower stomach. Peter chuckled at your expression, feeling the newfound confidence radiating off his body. 
“We can't fondue right now, but there’s a whole world of other things that I can show you in under 10 minutes.” Peter looked down into your list filled eyes as you sunk onto your knees. He gulped and damn if you didn’t show him a whole new world tonight, you offered him the whole galaxy. 
-
this didn’t take the romantic turn that i was expecting it to but oh well.
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targaryen-jpg · 2 years
Text
under the weirwood
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pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader
summary: requested by anon: "rhaenyra trying to talk jace into approaching reader:-(shes just so supportive mshdhshs"
notes: y'all when i tell you this made me BLUSH! he's actually adorable i might be perhaps in love no warnings! just fluff
jacaerys velaryon was a learned boy of eight-and-ten, prince of dragonstone and heir to the iron throne of westeros – yet he was completely tongue tied anytime you were near.
you first met the prince when he came to winterfell to visit your brother – lord cregan stark. he arrived on dragonback, sending up plumes of snow when he landed. assembled with the other lords and ladies of the keep, you retreated further into your fine furs. winter had come, and it was a cold one.
“my prince,” lord cregan announced, welcoming jacaerys as he entered the gates, now on foot, “the north welcomes you.”
“i’m pleased to make your acquaintance, lord cregan,” jacaerys smiled, warm and open, “many thanks to your house for such a welcome.”
cregan nodded, then gestured to you, “my younger sister.”
you dutifully stepped forward, curtsied, and introduced yourself, “welcome, your grace. i have heard many tales of your bravery.”
was the prince… blushing?
he seemed to stutter for a moment before he nodded stiffly, “my lady.”
for a feast held in his honor, the prince did not seem to be enjoying it much.
you, however, were in your element. the north was a large place, so cold and empty that you rarely had guests. to have so many of the great houses together? you were delighted. 
from the moment the dancing started, you didn’t leave the floor. you accepted every man who offered his hand, twirling and spinning and giggling with the other ladies until you practically fell over.
when you returned to your seat beside your brother's, you were flushed and panting. he was off somewhere you did not know, so only an empty chair sat between you and prince jacaerys.
“you do not dance, your grace?” you questioned, pouring yourself a cup of wine.
“i confess it is not my forte,” he looked away with a laugh, “and please, call me jace.”
you took a sip of the deep red liquid, “only if you will grant me a dance. jace.”
you held out a hand, and grinned when he took it. he took the lead from there, leading you out onto the center of the floor. the light grey fabric of your skirts swirled around his dark leather, the silver embroidery shining in candlelight.
“i don’t wish to imply you are a liar,” you began, spinning away from him, then back in, “but you are quite the dancer, my – jace.”
he just chuckled, ducking his head, “you are far outshining me, my lady.”
the next day, jacaerys brought news at breakfast, “my lady mother will be joining us tomorrow. she will only stay for a short while, but wishes to make your acquaintance, lord cregan.”
“how delightful,” you smiled, “to think, brother – the queen, here!”
“yes, yes,” he huffed, then looked at the prince, “we would of course be delighted to host queen rhaenyra.”
“will she be arriving on syrax, jacaerys?” you inquired, and when he nodded, you grinned even wider, “i never dreamed i would see a dragon in this lifetime, but to have two right here at winterfell!”
“would… would you like to go see vermax, my lady?” the prince proposed.
“oh, brother, please,” you sighed, “may i?”
cregan only waved his hand and continued eating.
within half an hour, you and jacaerys were standing in front of the dragon. he was sleeping when you arrived, but a huge golden eye opened as he sensed your approach.
you froze as he examined you, but jacaerys held his arm steady at your back, “it’s alright, my lady. he’s – he won’t hurt you. he’s a gentle creature.”
you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him when vermax fully awoke, raising his head up.
you stumbled back, but jacaerys put himself in between you and the dragon, “umbas, vermax.”
he helped you move closer, and whispered, “lykiri. this is lady stark, vermax.”
the dragon huffed, almost like a petulant child, but when jace moved your hand to his snout, he didn’t object.
you laughed in amazement, “what did you say to him?”
“it’s high valyrian – umbas means ‘stay’, and lykiri means ‘calm’.”
“lykiri,” you whispered, running the tips of your fingers across his smooth scales, “how do you say hello?”
he smiled, reaching out to stroke the dragon, “rytsas.”
“rytsas, vermax,” the word was unfamiliar on your tongue, but vermax lowered his head. still awake, but clearly relaxed, “he’s beautiful.”
“he is,” jacaerys agreed, but he was watching you.
queen rhaenyra, true to her word, arrived the next day. once again, you bundled up in your finest furs to await her arrival. syrax’s entrance was grand, yellow scales glinting in the sunlight as the queen landed her. she was enormous, bigger than vermax, but seemed docile.
as your brother introduced you, she eyed you carefully. but, you held your head high, smiled brightly and curtsied as low as you could.
“the young lady stark is quite beautiful,” rhaenrya stated to her son, “have you had much chance to become acquainted?”
she was resting on a chair by the fireplace in her quarters, warming herself after the freezing ride to winterfell.
“a bit. i took her to meet vermax,” he sighed, leaning on the mantle, “i confess – i can scarcely speak to her. everytime i do, i make a fool of myself. i’m the prince of dragonstone, and i start stuttering like a child”
“oh my darling,” she smiled knowingly, “you have affections for her?”
he knew before he answered. everytime you smiled at him, it was like dragonfire warming his insides. your touch sent sparks down his arms, the way you moved when you danced entranced him. even vermax seemed to like you.
so, he nodded, blushing creeping up his neck.
“you must tell her then,” rhaenyra decided, leaning back in the chair, “you are the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, but i will give you leave to pursue your own choice in wife. and the lady stark would not be an unwelcome match.”
“what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.
rhaenyra sighed, “jace. if you like her, you must make your affections known. if you wish to marry her – you have my blessing. though i cannot speak for cregan stark, i believe it would be an excellent match.”
after begging his leave from his mother, jace nearly sprinted to your quarters. when he arrived, he found only a servant who informed him you were in the godswood. by the time he found his way through the labyrinth of trees, he was panting and sweating despite the cold.
you heard footsteps and looked up from the tome you were reading by the weirdwood in the center, “my – jace?” you stood as he approached you, “are you alright?”
he could scarcely breathe as he took your hands in his, “can i kiss you, my lady?”
you froze, mouth agape, searching his face. you tried to say yes, yes, please, but no sound would leave your throat. all you could do was nod and his lips were on yours. his hands moved to cup your face so tenderly, while yours curled in the fabric of his tunic. it was breathless and sweet and over all too soon.
jace was nearly gasping by the time he let you go, “i – my apologies. i ran here.” his hands moved to hold your waist.
“wh–,” you laughed, cupping his cheek, feeling the hard line of his jaw, “why did you do that?”
“i wanted to ask you to marry me,” he let out a nervous breath.
you froze once again. a pause.
“you don’t jest?” you whispered.
he shook his head vehemently, “no, no, never. i confess i have made a fool of myself time and again, but you – you are everything wonderful in this world. you are bold and tender and i completely adore you. please,” he breathed, “please, marry me.”
“yes,” you murmured, moving closer until your foreheads touched, “a thousandfold, yes.”
when his lips met yours again, you could feel him smile against them.
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oneofstarkskids · 1 month
Text
a girl
peter parker x female!reader
setting: civil war, meeting for the first time
genre: a little angsty at the beginning but it's mostly fluff
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you're lost in a trance as you use the blowtorch to reshape the dented metal on one of tony's suits. you insisted that he let you work in the lab because it had a way of taking your mind off of everything else.
and right now, you could really use a distraction. steve was god knows where and the whole team just seemed to be getting closer and closer to falling apart. your family was falling apart.
there was nothing you could do about it and it killed you. of course your dad's way of handling things was just to make demands and empty promises, so you had a hard time seeing a way back from all of this.
natasha tried to tell you that you were wrong. she consoled you and reminded you that tony and steve aren't as different as they think. she held you and told you that everything would be okay.
but how could you believe her when all the evidence showed otherwise?
peter wandered around aimlessly with his head up in the clouds, looking for tony. he popped his head into the doorway of the lab that you were in.
when he saw a person covered head to toe, wearing a mechanics apron, a face shield and gloves that were way too large for their hands, he automatically assumed it was tony. "mr. stark! hey, i was meaning to ask you-"
he was interrupted by you pulling up the face shield. you were exhausted and your hair was stuck to your forehead by the sheen of sweat covering your face. and yet you still managed to take peter's breath away.
"wow," he swallowed. "you're a-uh...a-" he choked on his words.
"a girl," you finished his sentence for him with a smirk.
he let out an awkward laugh that was partially a sigh, "sorry."
"what for?" you asked.
peter just stared at you with big doe eyes.
"i thought you were..." and just as he began to say his name, tony walked in from behind him looking for something specific.
he didn't even spare peter a glance as he spoke, "you better not be flirting with my daughter, parker."
peter's jaw almost dropped. daughter!? it made sense the more he watched the two of you, but it surely wasn't what he was expecting.
"no, sir. i would never. well, it's not that i wouldn't," he changed the subject before he could get himself in anymore trouble. "i was just going to ask where i should come in during the fight. like, should i have a cool catch phrase. maybe something like," he lowered his voice, "a spider bites to kill."
you rolled your eyes and tony looked peter up and down, thoroughly unamused.
"let's skip the catch phrases and instead you can go help rhodey with surveillance," tony clapped him on the back.
"okay. so we'll just say it's a work in progress?" peter asked hopefully.
tony shook his head, "don't push it."
peter slowly backed away, "i'm not hearing 'no'. is that a 'maybe'?"
you couldn't help but laugh at the interaction. the new kid was kind of adorable.
your dad quickly spun around to give you a disapproving look.
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bucknastysbabe · 29 days
Note
Since you mentioned it before in a different post, and your asks are open… could you please do a smut piece with Jacaerys being shy about wanting a finger up his ass
YES I CAN! JACEYYYYYYY baby🥹🥹🥹so cute
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Rating: Explicit
Tags: Jace in da north, Cregan’s sis, established lovers, inexperienced horse cock bb, blowjobs, wet and messy, anal fingering (m!receiving), prostate massage/milking, jace gets a lil cum drunk, fluffy
Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fairysluna @rafeism @howyouloveyourdragon @lovelykhaleesiii @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @jamespotterismydaddy
Her grey eyes twinkled as she rested a sharp cheek on his thigh. Jace was panting, his cheeks flushed as he tried to calm down. His cock laid heavy on his taught stomach, dripping pre down onto his light skin. The Stark slid her calloused hand up the prince’s side, cooing, “What did you want?”
Her lips were still swollen from the impossible stretch around his cock. Jacaerys Targaryen might have begged for something off the cuff while his she-wolf was kitten-licking the bulbous tip. Something something ‘please, more, want a finger.’ It was a moment of passion, alright? Jace had a tendency toward blurting his thoughts.
To which she pulled off with an intense look. Those solemn Stark features alight with something downright predatory. She ordered this time, “Tell me what you said, Jace. I’m not judging you.” The lady readjusted herself on the furs, gaze less wolfish. Both of her hands held his waist, thumbs circling gently.
The brunette swore he would start crying. Or explode in a great burst of fire from embarrassment. He bit down on his bottom lip, shakily exhaling. Jace mumbled, “I- I heard my uncle talking about it once. A spot for men…y’know, up their ass. While getting sucked off." He slung an arm over his eyes, groaning in embarrassment. His cock was beginning to soften.
Her hand curled back around him, the Stark laughing, "Nuh, uh, don't you dare. Never had a finger up the ass huh? You're adorable. We always say you Sothron folk are the wanton ones," Jace peered at her pretty face, "You're fine, no need to be shy. M'sure most men think about it. I think about it."
Jacaerys looked up, his curls matted a bit, eyes wide in shock. She didn't care? Still, his flush ran down to his chest but his thick cock was back to swelling up, stretching her hand out. She grinned, raspy brogue teasing, "I just got to get you nice n' wet prince." He groaned, head flying back onto the warm furs as her hand and mouth began to work him.
She drooled on the tip of his cock, bobbing and lapping, hand jerking the spit down and down. His thighs twitched, a shiver crawling up his spine as his cock was growing wetter than he imagined. The she-wolf spat again into her palm, moist tongue probing at the spot under his cockhead. Jace cried out, hand at her dark hair, thighs spreading on instinct.
Spit rolled down to his balls, falling into his crack. Arousal and embarrassment warred within his head, being so open for her in an unmanly place. His lover jerked him, the sloppy sound accompanying the fireplace. She had moved her lips to suckle at his swollen balls to further soak the area. He was making soft noises, writhing, lips unable to close at the pleasure. The she-wolf hummed lazily, shoving a digit into her stuffed mouth.
Jacaerys gasped, back arching when her spit-slick finger pressed against his tight hole. She spat again, eyes lidded, lips curled up into a smirk. "Easy now, easy dragon prince, I'll make you see stars." Jace gulped, placing his trust in her gentle forefinger, hand cautiously wrapped into her braided hair. He was panting now, legs pulling up to plant his heels down.
The small tip of her roughened finger slid through, Stark laughing softly at Jace's withering look. She wiggled in further, thumb sliding up to play with the tip of his cock as a distraction. He swallowed, mouth going dry as he rasped, "Unh...seven above...feels weird." She sighed, "S'okay, it'll get better, focus on your cock right now."
He nodded, swollen lips bitten downright red. The prince focused on her swirling thumb, thighs jumping again as the sensitive nerves pricked and tingled with every movement. He whined her name, eyes falling shut as he huffed. His lover had her finger fully in his ass now, probing.
Jacaerys tried to remain quiet, unsure of the feeling, it was strange and he felt too full. She twirled her wrist around, palm facing the stone and wood beam ceilings of Winterfell. She crooked her long finger up and Jace sharply cried out, eyes open in a flash. She had found it, fuck, his girl had found it. All the discomfort and questioning of manhood had flown out his ears.
Jace stated in a warble, "My, unhhh, Stark, s'that it."
"Yeah, that's it, lookit you, already leaking and trembling for me, sweet prince. You're gorgeous, untouched and mine now."
His dark eyes traveled down to his leaky prick, pooling cum in his belly. Liquid heat had spread from deep within, the root of his cock and balls feeling much too hot and sensitive. He flushed, the feeling almost akin to having to piss...Sweet Mother above do not let that be a thing!
"You're fine, jus' milking you out, s'intense," she rambled, dark grey orbs piercing. She used her messy free hand to pat his flank, offering a kiss on his hip. The Northwoman cooed more, stroking his sweet spot in a pointed massage, not missing a beat. Jace spread his legs like a common whore, breathlessly begging for her to suck him too. He wanted all of it, this all-encompassing feeling.
She complied, not before slipping her middle finger alongside her pointer, still working that little gland with steady circles. Jacaerys didn't realize, he was so caught up in pleasure and writhing around on soft furs. The prince could laugh at himself, he was no better than the deviant Aegon.
Aegon did not have a she-wolf. He had whores. Craven.
Stark sucked down his cock again, her slick throat convulsing around his prick. She eased off and kept her shallow bobs, sucking on the head, applying more pressure as she hollowed stretched lips. Jacaerys spurt onto her tongue, apologizing, "M'sorry, darling, can't stop right now!"
Her muffled laugh was the response, grey eyes rolling amusedly. Jace tugged her braid softly, pouting. Another pump of cum emptied into her mouth, Jace slack jawed as she seemed to push more and more out of him, sucking it all down as she milked him.
He whined deep in his chest, hips weakly bucking as his thoughts grew slow and dumb. Jacaerys was paralyzed with silky, syrupy pleasure. His energy was being drained right out of his cock. She sped up her little movements, Jace slurring the she-wolf’s pretty name. The bone deep heat in his body seemed to rise up, the prince’s noises growing more frequent.
He struggled for breath as the intense feeling crawled up his belly. Jacaerys knew he was about to cum— but he’d been steadily pouring a river down her mouth. He bit his lip, tanned skin erupting into goosebumps, sweat beading on his forehead. She swallowed hard, fingers driving up, up, up. He whimpered, blinking and scrabbling at the furs and her soft hair.
He cried out sharply as the hot flames reached his chest, convulsing and moaning in confusion. Wave after wave of intense bliss wracked Jace’s body, something among the likes he’d never felt before. Stark dutifully drank him down, removing her fingers, Jacaerys whining again at the strange emptiness. He babbled a broken sentence, no clue what he was on about.
She crawled up his shaking frame, curling next to him, rubbing the young man’s flank. “Oh, you needed that hm?”
He nodded, boneless and floating. She pressed a little kiss to his reddened lips, Jace smiling wearily and returning the favor. The girl murmured, “I quite adore you too, dragon prince. Let’s lay around for a while before Cregan comes a’ knockin.”
“P-please.”
Jace burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, her comforting scent around him. He needed much rest now, eyes growing droopy. The prince snuggled in close, burrowing into her and the wonderful furs. The fire crackled on as she rasped little praises and pet his curls. He would never leave this bed if he could, the heir decided. A grin split across his blissful expression, hugging his darling she-wolf tight.
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dreamlandcreations · 9 months
Text
• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen •
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Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader
Summary: Daemon is about to meet his match...
Warnings (and some ramblings): physical description vaguely (?) described and implied by relation, not gonna spoil the plot but there's gonna be targcest (come on, it's Daemon), other canon stuff (violence, death/murder, sex, misogyny, calling children bastards), Daemon is about 21 (according to canon, you'll see what I mean), reader is younger by at least two years; twisting up canon: Alyssa died within the year of Daemon's birth, Queen Alysanne is still alive and the Daemon-Rhea wedding has not happened yet, the fight is basically the Geralt vs Renfri fight (if you want visuals bc I suck at describing it 😅), bit of insta love, enemies to lovers (sort of), it's mostly from Daemon's POV, not proofread at all
Series masterlist • next chapter
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• 102 AC • Winterfell •
Daemon was warned to behave before most of the House of the Dragon parted from King's Landing but he was called the Rouge Prince for a reason.
The tourney was held on the second day of their stay and he had not shown himself in public until then, content to spend his first day in the North reading under the heart tree.
Daemon always loved dramatic entrances, always seeking attention that he seemingly only gets when he is misbehaving. So he was ready to wreak havoc during the event that was supposed to be a friendly match between the great houses.
As a prince, he got to choose his first opponent, and who else would it be than a Hightower. He spared a smirk to that cunt of a Hand before he marched ahead to win with brutal precision, sending his opponent's horse and the knight himself to the ground.
The horrified gasps and then the loud cheering from the crowd only made his smirk wider. Daemon looked over the high seats from where the Targaryens, Velaryons and Starks watched the show. He immediately noted three empty seats, two besides Lord Stark - no doubt one of them was his brother's or cousin's whose helmeted figure Daemon had seen in the line of knights - and one by the King.
Since his grandmother, the Queen, was not present due to her illness, the only one who was sending him scolding glares was his brother, Viserys. The old king just sighed at the scene, while Corlys and Rhaenys sat there, amused, like parents watching a naughty child.
The next challenges were won just as easily as the first, although none of them was even remotely close to that savage end the Hightower boy had to suffer.
While the Prince usually didn't bother to watch the others, this time that Stark was drawing attention with his effortless wins. Prompting the people to make guesses and bets if a wolf could win against a dragon. Well, they were about to find out.
The first round shattered his opponent's shield but, to his astonishment, he stayed upright in the saddle. Daemon was smirking as usual but this time a tiny bit of admiration made his eyes glint in a softer light.
He could tell the little wolf would go down in the next round but he didn't expect to be taken with him too. The dragon prince's blood was singing at meeting a worthy opponent who was just as determined to win, no matter the cost.
The boy must have known he had no chance to stay on the horse, so instead of attacking Daemon as would be proper and expected, he somehow hooked his spear under his arm, yanking him back with the force of his own fall.
Both of you heavily landed on the ground, the impact crushing the air from your lungs and making it unable to move for a long moment. The spectating people were holding their breath, waiting to see if you were, well, alive or not.
The cheering was deafening as you got to your feet and proceeded to fight with swords.
Without wasting another second, you marched forward. Stabbing in his direction, aiming for his head and swinging at his neck with the same momentum once your initial blow missed its target.
The prince leaned away from each attack and his sword met yours at the third strike. He let you lead the fight for a few more clashes but he paused to assess you as he blocked a blow that meant to hit his legs.
Daemon straightened and stepped back, pushing your sword away with his and striking down with a high swing of Dark Sister. Your sword met his again, protesting under the finer steel.
To spare your weapon the worst of the hit, you focused on meeting the side of the blade while avoiding the edge and rolling the swords, trying to dislodge the weapon from his grip.
To unsuccessful stabbing attempts later you made a move at his head again. He ducked down, then didn't hesitate to use the opportunity of the few seconds you left yourself open.
You didn't expect a hit by his other hand and certainly not the following kick that sent you to the ground. Unfortunately, this resulted in losing your helmet.
Daemon paused at the sight.
It was no brother or cousin of their host, not even a boy as he suspected from the lighter build of the armour but a girl with the features of a Stark, the infamous wild beauty of the North, Lord Stark's niece by his late sister.
For the second time during this event, a unanimous scandalized gasp was heard from the crowd right before loud the protests of his brother and your uncle reached the two of you as they forbade you to continue the fight.
At that, your still bewildered expression turned into something Daemon was extremely familiar with. Blinding, all-consuming, untamed rage at being denied.
The Targaryen prince grinned wickedly at you but before you could turn your anger on him, he tore off his helmet, throwing it away and subtly nodding at you, giving you the approval to attack him and continue the fight. The answering spark in your eyes before you charged at him made his heart skip a beat.
It was similar to how you started the first time. He let you advance, then half-heartedly attacked back, ending the session with another backhanded slap before he pushed you backwards until your back met the edge of the fighting arena.
"You are holding back." You practically spat the accusation at him through gritted teeth while holding your sword to block his. Although with the way he took hold of your hand, making sure that your blade did not cut into your throat proved that you might as well let go altogether and would still be safe from any harm.
The world around you seized to exist as the prince pressed a little closer. Answering with an infuriatingly smug grin. "It would be unforgivable to hurt a little lady like you."
"You just hit me," you scoffed.
"You'll live."
"If you won't start fighting properly, you will not." The menacingly low threat made chills run down his spine, eliciting a low chuckle out of him that was definitely a mistake.
Then 'the little lady' pulled a knife on him.
Daemon grunted at the pain of being stabbed in his side. He looked at you with disbelief, the blade went through his armour like it wasn't even there. Valyrian steel.
It was enough distraction. You pushed him away, attacking with the dagger and the sword simultaneously and if you were a little less aggravated, you'd be impressed with the way he blocked your attacks with not just his sword but bare hand fight combined before he started to use his sword more like a shield.
Swords crossed, you paused.
Daemon could have swiped your legs, and you could have stabbed him with the dagger again but you were too busy trying to make it a show that you could overpower him and he was just too pissed to let you go easy.
In a blink of an eye, you were kneeling on the ground with your opponent's blade digging into your shoulder. Although he was careful not to cut too deep, he was not above the pettiness of giving you a scar in return for his.
A half groan, half gasp sound was the only indication of your pain and Daemon felt a moment of regret before he was consumed by flames from deep within that seemed to be seeded in the pull he felt towards you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He found your rage and your inner fire, which was clearly visible in your determination and anger at the present, mesmerisingly beautiful.
He became distracted again. It was enough for you to be able to move and swipe at his leg, cutting him with the dagger before you stood and faced him with a challenging stance.
A few seconds of silent discussion followed, with him letting you know he will give you what you wished for if you continue, warning you that he will not hold back anymore.
You grinned, attacking him, again using both weapons, with some moves applying them like a single extended weapon.
Then he put you in a difficult position. Stopping the dagger by grabbing it, he was forcing you to stay still not by strength but by thrusting you that you would not want to permanently damage him.
If you pulled away now, he would lose at least a few fingers if not his hand altogether. Both of you gritted your teeth, mostly in pain but it showed more like anger, which made it seem like you were practically snarling at the other.
With barely clutching the handles, you pry his hand off enough to only graze him. And it leaves you vulnerable.
You almost lost your weapons when he immediately attempted to disarm you. Then he truly advanced, forcing you to defend yourself and back away. He was relentlessly stabbing and swinging with Dark Sister in your direction.
Then it was over, he took your sword. Holding you at the end of his blade, telling you to yield.
It was only then that you heard the crowd again. Cheering at the incredibly fast and hard-to-follow battle they just witnessed.
Despite the loud audience, Daemon still heard as you sighed with annoyance, keeping eye contact with him as you threw your dagger to the ground, refusing to do more or say the words.
He smiled, this time with pure amusement only. He stepped away, letting you breathe freely and to his further entertainment dropped to the ground to sit and rest or pout like a child. It was hard to guess and that made him enjoy the scene even more.
You were so busy with pealing away the suffocating armour where you could reach and the impending scolding that you knew was coming the moment you tied up your cousin and took his place, that you didn't pay attention when the prince received the flower crown or what he was planning to do with it.
Feeling the crown of winter roses placed on your head, you look up, wide eyes meeting with the Rogue Prince's mischievous gaze as he offers his hand and helps you stand. Without letting go, he bends a little, kissing the back of your hand as he murmurs, "My queen."
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Series masterlist • next chapter
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natty-taffy · 2 months
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left, right. left, right. steady - masterlist
[natasha romanoff x stark!reader]
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Summary: Being the daughter of Tony Stark has it’s perks, you go unnoticed by the threats he faces while living at one of his summer safe houses. That is, until a hurt Natasha Romanoff breaks into it, at 4am.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ CHAPTERS
࿔*:・ one
࿔*:・ two
࿔*:・ three
࿔*:・ four
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ BONUS
࿔*:・ the Earth's Most Desired Target
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moonlit-imagines · 3 months
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warnings:
a/n: me writing this while completely burnt out from school
requested by @mymelodymia
“Kid.” Tony bumped the door of your bedroom open with his hip, holding a bag of McDonald’s in each hand and staring at you patiently. You said nothing, just set down your homework and sat up from your bed. “It’ll be there when we’re done. There’s ice cream in the fridge, too.” Your dad motioned for you to come along and took you to the living room where the movie you were dying to see—which didn’t come out for another month—was currently paused on your screen.
“Really?” You chuckled and sat down on the couch. “Did you call the director? Again?”
“Me and him go way back, he’ll do whatever I ask him. Ready?” Tony asked, just as he heard the front door open. “Oh, crap, I thought she was working late.”
“It is late.” Pepper overheard him and kissed him on the forehead as she walked by. “You better have gotten me some food, too.” You and your dad laughed, but his laughter was more of remorse as he handed his bag off to her. “Y/N, are you excited? I wish I had study breaks like this when I was in school.”
“Shh. Sh. Sh. The movie’s starting.” Tony lowly bothered her as he pressed play and she sat beside him. “Time to relax.”
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //
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sinofwriting · 1 year
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Little Wolf - Daemon Targaryen
Words: 1,200 Summary: Daemon may have married to help ease the burden on his brother’s shoulders and he’d come to like his wife, the little wolf of the North. He hadn’t realized however how much she was suffering at court.
Note(s): I’ll be honest I was a little nervous accepting this request, but I’ve been reading a lot of GOT fics lately, and got the courage to write this. It might not be the best as I’m trying to get used to writing a more oldy kind of English, but I hope you enjoy it! (Also, yes, Daemon most definitely managed to get her that as a gift, no spoilers!)
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She kept her shoulders low, smile small but not tight, feet solid on the ground, hands gently clasped in front of her. She would not give these southern ladies, if they could be really called that, her distaste or tears.
“You should really try one.” The Tyrell girl insists, pushing the plate that holds a tart closer. “I know such things aren’t available in the North.” She looks to the other woman at the table, thinking that she doesn’t see the giggle that she barely suppresses. “I’m sorry, my lady. Sweet things just aren’t for me. Must be my northern upbringing.” She smiles, forcing the words out. It wouldn't be good for her true words to come out. She wouldn’t not bring shame to her family, wolf or dragon. The girl sniffs, but doesn’t insist, instead turning her head to speak to the Hightower queen and she wanted to sigh at how poor of a match and queen she was.
She’d never say it out loud, but her good brother was not a smart ruler or man. It made her ache for her father, for her brother Cregan. For the family crypt that held her mother, that she could no longer go to for just the feeling of advice. Ache grew more and more as she was forced to be around southerners and their odd ideas and gods. She had scoffed when being told that she’d have to marry in front of the seven, in a sept.
Her only savior in this place, in king's landing, was her husband, though many would never think of him as such a thing. But Daemon Targaryen held the same views that the North did, that she did. He too scoffed at the seven, at the sept, and had agreed to her brother’s demands that they also be married in godswood, as tradition for Starks since long before.
She ached to be around the man that she could still be herself with and not this stiff thing she had to be around others. But, she knew she could not. They had never been close in the while they had been married, but for the past two moons, she had barely seen him, truly seen him. She may see him at dinners, but she had seen him maybe thrice in their shared chambers, only knew that he was sleeping due to the messed up furs on his side of the bed.
She nearly startles at the feeling of hands on her shoulders, but they were familiar even through the light fabric of her dress. “Wife, I’m afraid I have to steal you away.” She nods, giving a goodbye to the other ladies, who wrinkle their noses at her before she stands. Surprise nearly takes over features when her husband grabs her hand to place on his arm as he leads her away.
“You’re miserable.” He says as soon as they are out of sight and hearing and she stops walking. “Excuse me?” “I’ve been watching you, little wolf.” He moves to stand in front of her, eyes peering into hers and not for the first time she’s reminded that Daemon is a dangerous man, a man to be fearful of. “Been watching as you sit with the ladies of the court and listen to them talk, but never speak. Why is that little wolf?” He steps closer and her breath quickens. “You aren’t a shy thing, no one could ever think that of you. But you don’t speak. You smile, nod, and laugh.” She raises her head, ignoring the twitch in her jaw, aware that despite no one being around, they are still in public. “I’m afraid, Prince Daemon, I don’t know what you mean.” His eyes tighten as she uses his title. “I enjoy sitting with the ladies and talking. We just had the most interesting conversation about Casterly Rock and its new lady. She’s apparently having the roses ripped out and replaced. They don’t agree with her, you see.” “You don’t care about those cunts, any of them.” He begins to speak again, but she cuts him off, stepping closer and lifting her skirts just a bit as her voice comes out in a hiss. “I have a duty, Prince. One to my house and yours. I will not and can not forget myself. I don’t have the pleasure of forgetting such things.” She gives him a pointed look before turning on her heel.
“I’m feeling unwell, I think I’ll rest for a bit.” She tells him, before moving towards their chambers.
He watches after his wife, his little wolf, with a clenched jaw and fists, her words of duty reeking of cunttower. And then a feral smile forms on his lips, she was right in a way that she didn’t have the pleasure of forgetting that she had a duty, but she seemed to be forgetting that she was a Targaryen now, not a Stark, and that her duty was different then what it was previously. A smirk curls onto his lips, he’d just have to remind her of that.
He bides his time, spending another week watching as she puts on a facade at court, before he makes his first move.
He breaks fast with her and not just in their chambers. And then he begins his next step, he starts to walk with her, arm in arm. Not uncommon for a married pair, but uncommon for him. He never walked arm in arm with a lady unless you could count when his niece was younger and she would demand for him to carry her around. People take notice and whispers start but they’re easily curbed as a new bastard is born from the house of hightower. No one knows or can tell if it’s from the hand or his eldest son, but the people talk as the queen is near tears at the shame to her family when not praying in the sept.
And as he increases his affections for his wife in the court's eye, as well as in private, he waits. He waits and waits and then one morning as they break fast, he gets the message he’s been waiting for and he quickly excuses himself.
He offers a nod to the Snow boy that his good brother had sent, pleased to not hear him stammer, just a quiet your grace being said. “You had a safe journey?” “Yes. Traded horses just as often as you suggested and I have it.” He quickly presses forward a bundle of what seems to be fabric forward, but the weight and heat that touches his hands tells him that it is indeed what he asked for. “Good.” He adjusts the wriggling package to rest between his sword arm and side as he reaches for a pouch of coins, tossing it to the bastard. “Try not to spend it all in flea bottom, Snow.” He gives a quick bob of his head, eyes wide. “Thank you, your grace.” Daemon doesn’t bother responding, already turning around and heading back to his chambers where his wife is, a smirk on his face as he imagines her reaction to the wriggling gift he has for her.
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iliumheightnights · 9 months
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[M/n Stark and Peter chilling on the couch in the tower.]
M/n: "So like...we can agree we both think Thor's hot right?"
Peter: "M/N! Thor's a god and our friend!"
...
"Of course he's hot."
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kurogxrix · 10 months
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omg stark!reader n Peter in stark tower flirting and tony teases them (hopefully mutual pining and like they haven’t confessed to each other yet)
Dedicate Your Heart
Peter Parker x Stark!reader
A/N: reader can be seen as Tony’s biological or adopted daughter :)
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“To your left Spider-Man!” had been the last thing that Peter had heard before getting shoved to the side, quite painfully so be the stack of boxes that you had been carrying. The tower of cardboard threatened you with a stagger as you bumped into Peter, before peacefully settling back in place. 
Despite it being a mid saturday morning, you found yourself in your father’s lab instead of in the comfort of your dear room. Though you’d already agreed to help him, so there was no way you could turn back on him now. Admitively you weren’t here totally by your own will, you’d solely done it because Tony had teased you about being some edgy teenager that sticks in her room all day. And while you were, admitting with no shame that staying slumped on your bed while blasting some old school rock through your headphones was definitely a vibe, you decided to prove to your dad that there were many other things that you could do to render that brain of yours utile.
It wasn’t like your father was a stranger to your accomplishments, far from that. 
Setting the boxes down on the countertop, you couldn’t help the heavy groan that escaped your mouth. You didn’t have super strength like most of the other people living in the tower, and damn could a few boxes make your backache go crazy. Nevertheless, throughout your struggle, you failed to notice the way that a certain curly haired brunette had his eyes stuck on you for the duration of your time here. 
Peter had not even said anything after you had brutally (in his dictionary. You’d argue and say that it was playfully) shoved him away with your boxes. Instead, his eyes lingered on your form. He nearly had to slap himself after his iris laid on your torso for a little too long, but could you blame him? 
The skin-tight black tank top that you often wore while working in the lab was just so attractive to Peter. 
He watched as the shirt slid up a couple of inches as you stretched, exposing a sliver of your stomach and rippling the muscles in your arms. Sure you weren’t as bulky as Thor yet alone Hulk, but fighting crime alongside the avengers and training with them did flatter your physique. God, Peter was sure that he must’ve been drooling by now. What a fool. 
“You want a picture too or are you too busy engraving the sight in your mind?” your voice shook Peter out of his stance, a bright red colour raising upon the back of his neck as you caught him checking you out red handed. The sole sound of your assertive tone had him doubling over, at least in his head, because he could avoid being humiliated furthermore. 
“Hey, wasn’t it you that chose my outfit for our last gala? Heard from a little birdie that it was because you thought i’d look handsome in it?” Peter retaliated, though his voice held more diffidence than yours did. You froze upon his admission, the metallic parts of the gadget that you were working on released a loud ‘thud’ as it came down to hit against the countertop. You winced at the sound, internally cursing your mother figure, Pepper, for exposing your secret. 
It was true though, and there was no point in denying it now that it was out in the open. You could still remember the exact moment that Tony had informed you all about some gala that you had to attend alongside him, some rich guy thing. Although you protested, he insisted. So that’s how you’d ended up in this position, having to choose a partner that was actually your age to accompany you there. It wasn’t that you necessarily needed one so badly, but every other avenger already had someone to accompany them, but the age gap between yourself and the rest of your team already made you feel sort of excluded in most things, so bringing a date it was. 
Beyond everyone else, your first thought was to ring Peter up and ask him about it. After all, he was perfect for the job. He already knew your father and he was always so enthusiastic for whatever journey you’d reserve for him. Only problem was, well…Peter was broke. So given that you were the daughter of a billionaire, you might’ve as well dressed him up. Though as soon as you thought about Peter in a specific suit, you felt your brain short circuiting in awe. 
It took you a moment to recover from your lone embarrassment. How could the mere thought of a man get you so riled up? It was those kinds of questions that you’d always bring up to yourself when it came to Peter, and on that night, you came to the fact that you might’ve had feelings for the boy. Naturally, as a teenage girl, you would’ve firstly ran to your phone to text your friends about it. Though you ran short on these, being a Stark, you knew how people could get once they indulged in another’s’ money and clout. The ideas of having friends apart from the avengers had completely been wiped clean out of your mind after a few failed attempts.  
You thought about telling Natasha, and as much as you loved the older woman, you dreaded the way  she’d tease you if you ever opened up about your feelings for a certain Spider-man. So, telling your mother it was. 
“My mom is such a snitch.” you mumbled under your breath, supposedly to yourself but the chuckle that escaped Peter told you that it came out a little  
louder than expected. The lab was relatively quiet after that, other than the sounds of you piecing things together and Peter’s loud thinking as he made a virtual maquette of what he was planning. To the both of you, the secret glances that you were exchanging might’ve gone over your heads, but not to a certain billionaire playboy that stood by the elevator door. Well scratch that, ex-playboy. 
Once again, the lab was quiet. Almost too quiet for it to be containing the both of you teens in there, Tony thought to himself. He was no stranger to Peter’s feelings towards you, neither were the other avengers, nor yourselves at that. The flirting was nothing new to the obscene things that the poor heros were bound to see, and it was almost too much for them to handle. It was like a constant war between teammates that was happening in the tower. One side would agree with the fact that you were both oblivious to each other’s feelings, while the other half believed that you were both very aware, but undeniable cowards when it came to outwardly confessing. 
Your dad fell in the team of people who believed that you both knew you liked each other. How could he not? He had to suffer through your endless flirting and playful banners everyday. Plus, he knew admiration when he saw it. He is Tony Stark after all, he’d received many lovestruck looks in his youth, and they’d only multiplied as he aged.
Amidst his work, Peter couldn’t concentrate for any longer with the amount of noise that you were causing. Your patience ran short as you tried to forcefully shove a metal piece against another, not understanding why it wasn’t fitting together. One look at you and he could tell that you were frustrated. Your creased eyebrows, that slightly disgusted look that you wore on your face, it all told the same exact story. Narrated through your eyes that were piercing daggers at the poor gadget before you, Peter knew better than to just leave you alone. Mainly because he feared for the poor object, a woman’s wrath is not to be played with. 
“I mean, kiss me if i’m right but, this piece most definitely goes here.” Peter took the piece from your hand, startling you slightly as he appeared out of thin air. His words rang inside your head for a second, the thoughts of kissing Peter making you feel dizzy after so long of chasing one another. The endless nights spent awake just to text Peter and the amount of time that you’d sneak out just to meet up with the curly haired boy. It all meant more than it would let off, and that was much considering nearly everyone thought you two were already dating. 
You allowed Peter to take the segment of your father’s work from your hands, placing it in a slot that was laid idiotically close to the one that you were trying to force it in. Without hesitation, you hurriedly plugged in the machine, and with enthusiasm, you watched as your father’s project lit up successfully. 
In the midst of everything, Peter could barely makeout that time that it had taken you to turn around and engulf him in your embrace. Warm and familiar arms welcoming him as they latched behind his neck, he nearly doubled back at your force. 
“I’d kiss you but that’d just destroy everything that we’ve built throughout these years now, wouldn’t it?” you bat your eyelashes up at him, the side of your face flushed against his chest as Peter looked down at you with those doe eyes of his. You could’ve sworn that it wasn’t you that was trying to soften him with that sweet look, but quite the inverse. 
You both indulged in the moment, guilty of relishing the other with nothing else but your eyes. Though what lied in your iris told another story than one that’s platonic, your mouths just couldn’t allow yourselves to confess. It wasn’t that you both were oblivious to the other’s feelings, you both just feared the change of dynamic that’d come with altering this relationship into a romantic one. 
You feared that your teasing texts would turn into unceasingly mushy ones. And Peter feared that if anything bad was to happen between you two, he’d lose you forever, even as a friend. Though you both were young and understanding, you set asid the thought of making anything official for now. 
As you continued to stare into Peter’s eyes, you couldn’t help but lean further into him, closer up. He reciprocated your motion, pupils never straying away from your own as his breath hitched under the circumstances. Sure you weren’t ready for a relationship with Peter now, but what harm was there with a little kiss? You could always be all up in eachothers faces one day and fist-bump like highschool best-friends on the other. 
“Oh and cut it to the wedding scene already, we’ve been through too much foreplay!” there came the clap of his hands before his words, and soon was your father’s cover blown. You both froze at the teasing tone of his voice, familiar so, it was impossible to escape the Stark banter. You almost scoffed audibly before remembering the position that you were currently in. Peter felt his heartstrings being tugged at once he felt you parting away from him, but yet again, you guys were nothing more than just friends. 
The rise of crimson colour upon Peter’s cheeks was a cute sight to see, and admitively you’d spend more time admiring him in his flustered state, but for now, you had an irritated attitude to put on for your father. 
“For how long have you been stalking us, old man?” you rolled your eyes at your father, crossing your arms above your torso as you stared him down. The smirk that played on Tony’s face irked you, and you wanted nothing more than Pepper walking in and telling him off. God only knows how much a husband fears his wife, and Tony more than feared his own. He laughed shortly, throwing his head back as though you had said the funniest thing ever heard by men. Peter just stood there in all of his awkwardness, moving his head to gaze at your father and you relentlessly like some cartoon character. 
“Long enough to know that your little flirting in my  lab is disgusting, get your own to do that crap over there.” he responded sarcastically, a Tony Stark trait. 
“I was not flirting with your daughter, Mr Stark!” Peter retaliated nervously, his words coming out faster than his mind could comprehend. He felt even more stressed as he watched his superior stare him down with an amused expression on, feigning comprehension before opening that mouth of his once more. 
“Right and that explains why you were just about to kiss her? Cmon kids, I was anything but born yesterday.” Tony laughed at you both once more, and clearly, he was enjoying this way more than the two of you. 
Before any of you have the time to respond, your father was already on his way out. With his back facing towards you, he plucked his iconic sunglasses from the pocket of pants, the arc reactor peeking through the fabric of his thin summer shirt. 
“Be sure to be safe, your kids could end up just like my lovely daughter, and I'm sure none of you guys are ready for this!” your father turned around swiftly  to wink playfully at you, sending the pair of you finger guns as he walked backwards towards the elevator. Lord, how much did you wish for him to slip and break his saunter, but a man such as Tony was too smooth in his ways. With the humiliation of his words running thick through your veins, and your head in your hands in shame, you’d promised yourself that you’d get your revenge on your dear father. Somewhat, someday.
The sound of the elevator’s ‘ting’ sent relief coursing throughout Peter and you, now that your father is gone, you’d have to deal with the other situation at hand. 
“We weren’t flirting right? Just talking as friends?” Peter nervously rambled as soon as you turned back around to face him. His words were the opposite of what he wanted, of course he wanted you both to flirt as more than friends, but he didn’t want to scare you if anything. His hand was itching a spot behind his neck, where nothing irritated him, it was just an anxious habit that he had. Trying to surpass a chuckle, you sauntered your way towards the brunette. 
Peter’s eyes widened comically as you raised a hand towards him, and his thoughts ran wild with anticipation. Was this it? Were you finally going to surpass this fear of commitment and just kiss him? His shoulders dropped visibly when your hand came to remove his own from his neck, saving him from the rash that he was bound to develop after itching the same spot repetitively like he always did. 
Peter’s heart did an nearly audible ‘oh’ in disappointment. Though on the outside, he was all shiny smiles and full set of teeth on display. He was ready to move past what you had, but if you couldn’t meet him halfway, how could he act on it? 
Peter observed with keen eyes as you walked back to your spot, sending a curt notice to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking to press play on your playlist. 
Suddenly, Peter’s disappointment was replaced with something else. With dedication, perhaps. He vowed to make a change in what you had by the end of this year, promising himself to prove to you that maybe a relationship with him wasn’t so bad. That you could work things out like two responsible people if anything were to happen. He just urged to get a taste of you, of what it was like to wake up and be more than just your best bud. 
-
i wrote this with a swollen thumb and i half-asleep mind so please don’t judge😭
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drakoneve · 1 year
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The Wolf Amongst Dragons
request: Can you pretty please do a daemon X reader where it's his niece who teases him about being super smitten with the reader BC she is a headstrong stark and makes a fool out of the court because she can. Perhaps she gets quite hurt in a battle that the king sends her and others out to fix. Basically it just ends up being fluffy where the reader knows his feelings and just soaks up the complete love he has. Like this boy has been knocked off his feet and he hates to admit it hehe 
pairing: daemon targaryen x y/n stark 
word count: 1k
warnings: canon typical violence, injured reader, blood
a/n: i tweaked this a little, hope you don’t mind!
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You made a promise to yourself the day your older brother, Cregan, loaded you and your belongings into a carriage headed for the capital. Until this point you’d never stepped foot out of Winterfell, let alone were you prepared to move to the other side of the continent. Yet you had no choice. When the King of the Seven Kingdoms requests a Northern representative for the royal court, the Lord of Winterfell had no choice but to send his little sister.
When you finally arrived at the Red Keep you were meet with by King Viserys, his wife Queen Aemma, their daughter Princess Rhaenyra, and the king’s brother Prince Daemon. The Kingsguard stood tall in gleaming armor in full force surrounding the royal family, who was also accompanied by their personal staff.
“Lady Stark!” King Viserys cheers as he opens his arms in greeting. “We are honored to welcome you to the Red Keep! I hope your travels went smoothly?”
“Thank you, your Grace,” you answered as you bowed respectively. “The Kingsroad is fine, your Grace. It’s more the climate that’s concerning me. i’m not yet used to such... conditions, to say the least.”
Queen Aemma steps forward, “I’m sure you’ll adjust before you know it. Please, allow me to show you to your chambers.”
The queen was gracious enough to accompany you not only to your chambers, but she then took you on a tour of the palace. She began with the throne room, then took you out to the royal gardens where she took you to the Godswood. Having a weirwood tree right here in the Red Keep made you breath easier. At least this place had some trace of the North. Being so far from home unnerved you deeply, but in this place you could feel a connection to home.
Over the next few days you attended Small Council meetings where you watched from the sidelines. King Viserys assured you would have a seat on the council soon enough, but others suggested you have an ‘adjustment period’ of sorts. You scoffed at the idea but still took your seat outside the council table.
Being separated from the council, however, was not enough to restrain you from calling Otto Hightower a ‘spoiled southern cunt’ for suggesting Daemon send members of the City Watch into Flea Bottom to reprimand those who are already fighting to survive. During these meetings you happened to catch the violet eyes of the rogue prince, who had yet to make your acquaintance. 
Not long after your arrival in Winterfell, King Viserys announced that Queen Aemma is with child once more, and the palace went into a mode of celebrations. A feast had been prepared and the throne room transformed into a dining hall with room for dancing. 
Most everyone had finished their meals and began mingling and dancing their way around the room, but your attention focused mainly on the many molten swords of the Iron Throne. You had to admit the sight of the royal seat of Westeros was quite an intimidating sight.
Something inside told you to take a step towards the throne, and so you did. You stopped when you approached the first line of molten swords and reached out to trail your fingers lightly across the hilt. 
“I’d be careful if I were you,” Daemon advised teasingly as he came up on your right side. “My brother does not take kindly to those who yearn for his precious throne.”
“I merely grazed the hilt of one measly sword,” you refuted. “I did not sit my arse upon it and call myself the queen. Nor do I want to.”
“Truthfully?” he inquires, a look of curiosity upon his face. You take the moment to take in the sight of him, and you cannot deny he’s an incredibly handsome  man. Like the rest of his Targaryen ancestors, Daemon is beautifully crafted by the Gods of Old Valyria— blessed with silver blond hair and lilac eyes. 
You nod and look back up to the throne. “I could think of nothing worse,” you admit. “To live my life upon this ghastly thing and have to sit through endless bore-me-to-death Small Council meetings? Sounds miserable to me.”
With that you excuse yourself respectively to retire for the evening. You make quick rounds to the other members of the royal family to excuse yourself for the night totally unaware of how Daemon’s eyes are following you the whole time. He watches as you begin with his brother and sister in law, before finding Rhaenyra (who’s in the middle of the dancefloor with Alicent) and saying goodnight to her, too.
He laughs to himself when Rhaenyra and Alicent each take one of your hands and pulls you around in circles with them, as if trying to convince you to stay with them just a bit longer. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but his heart beats harder at the sight of your dark gray satin skirts flow around you while you twirl, at the smile on your face as you laugh with his niece and her friend.
Eventually you pull away from the girls before officially making your way out of the throne room and away from the chaos. 
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Several months had passed since the death of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and war had begun in the Stepstones just as Corlys Velaryon warned King Viserys and the eternity of the Small Council. Still Viserys refused to step in as king and help the Lord of Driftmark defeat the Triarchy once and for all. After the king rejected Corlys’ offer of Laena’s hand in marriage and instead married Alicent Hightower, the seasnake took off to fight in the Stepstones. It wasn’t long after that that Daemon joined Corlys in his war efforts.
You stayed in the Keep for awhile, trying to convince Viserys to aid Corlys and Daemon in their efforts of holding the Stepstones to no avail. Viserys had allowed you to take a seat on the council while Corlys and Daemon were gone, and each time you tried to plead with the king to see reason Otto Hightower would weasel his way in the king’s ear against you. 
So you decided to go to the Stepstones yourself, naturally. You recruited Ser Harwin Strong to accompany you once he swore on his honor he would not say a word of your plan to anyone until his safe return to King’s Landing. 
You and Harwin arrived on the shores of the Stepstones in time to rush to Daemon’s side as he was overrun by members of the Triarchy. You wore the armor your father had gifted you after many years of insisting on joining your brother Cregan on the battlefield with the Stark bannermen. 
Vaemond Velaryon scoffed at your arrival and insisted Corlys send you away. Daemon stepped forward, piercing Vaemond with his furious lilac gaze. 
“Put your cocks away, boys,” you tease, unimpressed. “We’ve a war to win, do we not?”
You joined the war torn men around the large table set up with the maps of the battlefields. Conversation continued back and forth as the lot of you tried to come up with a plan to take down the Crab Feeder and Triarchy. Laenor’s plan of sending Daemon to the Crab Feeder as a scapegoat of false hope only for both Caraxes and Seasmoke to burn the Triarchy men alive. 
For the most part everything went as planned, until you jained Daemon’s side as he was ambushed, unarmed, by a circle of the enemy. You’d jumped into the fight, effectively taking out several Triarchy soldiers before tossing a sword Daemon’s way. He showed his thanks by slaying the rest of the men with you, but not before one of them slashed you in the side, leaving a bloody gash on the side of your thigh.
“Fuck!” you yell as you clutch your leg, losing your balance and hitting the ground. Blood streamed down your leg in a slow, but steady, flow. Daemon joined your side in a flash, ripping the white flag he’d had to feign surrenderance to tie the cloth as tight as he could above the gash in your thigh.
The battle continued around you though for the most part Caraxes’ and Seasmoke’s flame had discouraged most of what was left of the Triarchy. With Daemon’s aid you were able to safely make it back to the shore where you’d first arrived to be treated by the healers available.
Daemon stayed by your side through the stitching and even went as far as to hold your hand and offer sweet words as comfort. You were grateful for him, this way you had something else to focus on other than the pain. And if you needed an alternative to keep your mind busy, there was no better pick than Daemon.
His silvery white hair fell around his face perfectly despite being slightly matted with sweat and blood. He’d always been handsome, that you couldn’t deny, but seeing this softer side to him made him even more so in your eyes. It’s no secret Daemon is a troublemaker, and you should probably keep your distance, but after this how could you?
Long after the battle was over Daemon was crowned King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. He’d cut his infamous long hair short, and it suited him. Sometimes little wisps of silver hair would fall down into his face and you had to remind yourself to breathe at the sight.
Your relationship with Daemon changed after the war in the Stepstones. Whereas before the war you would avoid Daemon in court, you now sought him out. Not that you had too, because he often would join your side in Small Council meetings or invite you out to the training yards.
Tonight however, you opted to stay in your chambers.
You’d already stripped down to your nightclothes when a knock came from the other side of your chamber doors.
“Come in.” you called.
The doors open and Daemon entered, dismissing your guards. They looked to you before leaving once they had your reassurance.
Daemon didn’t hesitate to step right up to you. “Forgive me for the hour, my lady, but I’ve found myself in a situation I am quite unfamiliar with and it seems you are the only one who can help me.”
“Oh?” You tilted your head, trying to ignore the fluttering of your heart. “How am I supposed to be of aid?”
“Be mine,” he responds quickly with confidence. “I must confess from the day you arrived here in the Keep I’ve been quite taken with you. And the day you rode onto the shores of the Stepstones, I knew I could not live without you by my side—”
You reached your hands out to cup either side of his face. “Daemon, do not jest. I’m afraid my heart could not take it.”
A genuine smile breaks out across his lips. “I would never,” Daemon insists. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, my little wolf.”
Daemon’s hands fall to your waist as he pulls you into his body, leaning down to kiss you firmly. You pulled away and kissed his forehead before resting your own against his. 
“Come to bed, Daemon,” you purr and pull away towards the bed.
He laughs and smiles down at you. “As you wish, little wolf.”
2K notes · View notes
bittenbyyou · 10 months
Text
Inferior Flames (1)
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MCU!AU | MCU!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader | MCU!Spider-Man x Stark!Reader
genre: enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, lil cute moments
description: Your father wants you to knock Peter down a peg. OR Peter is bitter because you’re an Avenger and he’s not.
word count: 3.6k
warnings: Tony Stark being your father is already a warning as to how ridiculous he could be lol, mentions of Spider-Man: Homecoming, references from Captain America: Civil War, idk where this would fit in the MCU timeline per se b/c I’ve only recently started watching all the Marvel movies. 
a/n: maybe it’ll be a series? idk, if you like it, lemme know!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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“Firefly, I need a favor.” Your father plopped onto the couch next to you, so you paused your show with the TV remote.
“What is it?” you asked, turning your body to give him your undivided attention.
“You know Spiderling, Spider-Boy?”
“Peter Parker, Spider-Man? Yes. How do you still not know his name?”
“My names are better.”
“Uh huh. Wait, he’s the one that rejected your proposal to become an Avenger.” You nudged him with your elbow, flashing a smirk.
“No, no. I don’t do rejection.”
“But he did turn you down.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate his frustration. “Sure. Whatever. Anyway, the kid wants to be an Avenger now. Been texting Happy nonstop about when’s the next mission and he’s wanting to see me tomorrow.”
You blinked twice and stayed quiet, a blank stare on your face as to why this was an issue. When he didn’t say anything, you gestured for him to elaborate.
“I don’t think he’s ready,” he added, crossing one arm over the other.
“You’re serious? Dad, you’ve never shut up about him ever since you gave him the suit. Even when I was abroad, I’ve seen what he can do. He’s amazing. You wanted him to be an Avenger.”
“I’m aware. But he said no and now… the ball is in my court.” The shit-eating grin on his face was soon replaced with a chuckle that sounded almost sinister.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, he turned me down and now he wants me back. God, I’m making him sound like an ex-girlfriend.” He shivered in disgust and you rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I get to turn him down now. It’s great.”
“So you’re turning him down because he turned you down first. Petty much?”
“Hey, that is not what’s going on here.” He turned his attention to the paused TV screen instead of meeting your judgmental gaze.
“Dad, that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re really letting your pride stop you from recruiting someone as amazing as Spider-Man? Let Peter join.”
“What, are you in love with him or something? You think he’s so amazing?” he asked while doing jazz hands at the word “amazing.”
You wouldn’t call it love; it was more along the lines of admiration. During your time abroad, your father filled you in on all his adventures and antics so if anything, it was his fault as to why you were somewhat enamored with Spider-Man. Deep down, you knew your father adored Peter, so it was only natural you did too.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“You can’t date anyone until you’re 21.”
“I’m telling Mom you’re being ridiculous.”
“I already told your mom and we’ve already established that I’m ridiculous,” he said proudly, as if it was a badge of honor.
“You told me you were proud of his decision to lay low.”
“I am. I was. But now the tables have turned and what kind of person would I be if I let him in so easily? The others think I’m crazy recruiting a 15 year old.”
“16 now actually,” you corrected.
“God, this is like deja-vu.”
You giggled. “I’m the same age as him and you’ve been wanting me to join too.”
“Don’t remind me. You were the first person to ever turn me down and I’m still recovering. I’m waiting for you to crawl back and beg me, saying ‘Dad, please! Let me be an Avenger!’ Like the kid is doing now,” he said, using a high-pitched voice when he was imitating you.
“Good luck with that. I have no interest in being an Avenger.”
“See,” he said, pointing his index finger at you, “that right there is why I need your help.”
You crossed your arms in the same way he did, skeptical of where he was going with this. “Go on.”
“I want you to pretend to be another recruit who wants to be an Avenger. I’ll tell him there’s only one position and make him work for it.”
“Dad…” you said sternly.
“What? He doesn’t know you’re my daughter. And I’m trying to protect him too. The kid’s been going off doing things on his own and not thinking clearly. He can wait on becoming an Avenger.”
“He stopped Vulture. He kept looking for those weapons when no one else would.”
“He’s reckless.”
“You’re using me to make him jealous.”
“A little,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m also looking out for him.”
“Uh huh.”
“He’s coming here tomorrow and I want you to battle him. If he beats you, he’ll get to join.”
“This is so stupid.”
“It’s genius, really.”
“You’re making a kid fight for something that you already want to give him.”
“No. Not yet.”
“You know he can’t beat me.”
Your father leaned in and pecked you on the forehead. “Exactly. Him losing will help him work harder to be better. This’ll give him that push he really needs. So will you help me?”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to fight Peter Parker and make sure he loses just so he doesn’t get to become an Avenger even though deep down, you want him to be one?”
“Precisely.”
“That’s the stupidest idea ever. And it’ll hurt his feelings.”
“No, it’ll build character. He needs to understand it’s not that simple. You can’t ask to become an Avenger and get it.”
“... But he can… because that’s what you wanted in the first place.”
“He turned me down so it’s only fair that he proves to me how much he wants it. Like a test. I’m testing him.”
“No. Dad, I’m not doing that.”
“I’ll enroll you in school right now instead of waiting for the following year.”
You sighed, contemplating his ridiculous proposition. He had adopted you when you were 10 on one of his missions overseas and has kept you a secret from the public. As much as it pained him, he could not bring you home right away because you required guidance on using your powers responsibly. You had to remain abroad for a while longer until the adoption forms went through and your mentors felt you were ready to leave the tiny village where you resided.
However, he and his wife Pepper, kept in touch and always checked in. He showed up every birthday and made it his mission to be a part of your life. Now that you were in high school and your powers were restored, he flew you into New York City right away.
It’s been a few months since your transition and you absolutely loved it. The Avengers who resided in the compound were very welcoming and so far, they were the only ones who knew of your existence along with your mom. Your father had yet to announce your identity to the world because he didn’t want the spotlight to overwhelm you. Originally he planned on having you relax a bit and then enroll you in public school next year, but going earlier was enticing to you.
“... Which school?”
“Spider-Man’s.”
“... Fine.”
“You do have a crush on him.”
“Shut up, Dad.”
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The next day…
Upon entering the foyer of the Avengers Compound, Happy led Peter to where Stark was. The man stood in the middle of the main entrance hall, sporting a classy suit and sunglasses. Peter clenched his fists in determination, carefully reciting the words he wanted to say in his head since the car ride over.
“Hey kid. What do you want?”
“Mr. Stark,” he squeaked. He shut his eyes in humiliation, clearing his throat and lowering his voice a bit to sound more confident. Once his eyes fluttered open, he puffed out his chest and said, “I changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind,” Stark deadpanned.
“Yes. I want to be an Avenger.”
“You understand why I’m skeptical.”
“Um… yes, but—”
“Look, you turned me down last time and am I used to rejection?” Peter opened his mouth to answer but was immediately cut off. “The answer’s no, but I respected your decision. All that talk about looking out of the little guy—great—so what changed?”
“I’m ready for more than that now.”
“No, you’re not.”
“That’s not what you thought when I took on Captain America,” Peter argued.
“Trust me, kid. If Cap wanted to lay you out, he would’ve.”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows at the realization that he got off easy, questioning his entire existence.
Stark pressed his palms together and pointed at him. “You really want to be an Avenger?”
The boy nodded eagerly. “Yes.”
He inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. “See, here’s the thing: there’s someone else.”
Peter’s face fell, heartbroken at the thought of being replaced. “What—What do you mean there’s someone else?”
“Well, after you turned me down, I recruited someone else. If you really want to be an Avenger, prove to me you’re better than her.”
“Wait, her?”
“Yeah. You think you got what it takes?”
“Well it’s rude to attack a lady—”
“No. Gender equality’s a thing, right? You beat her up, she beats you up. You both end up in casts—”
“Casts?!”
“Suit up and let’s go.”
With no other choice, Peter obeyed and did what he was told. His thoughts were racing at the thought of battling someone to prove his worth. But this was his dream and he had to get out of his own head. After he finished suiting up, Happy led Tony and him to the outdoor training area that featured a wide-opened space with reinforced surfaces.
It had strategically placed obstacles to encourage agility and tactical thinking during battles. Additionally, the area incorporated holographic projectors to create any virtual landscapes to simulate specific scenarios for the Avengers to train in.
And that was where Peter’s eyes landed on a figure in the distance. You, who was practicing your combat skills with a large kung fu spear. The way you moved was calculated, graceful, like a beautiful yet deadly dance. You performed many high kicks and flips, mesmerizing Peter as your hands maneuvered the spear so flawlessly around your body. Your father and Happy watched you, proud smiles plastered on both of their faces.
“That’s who you’ll be battling today,” Stark said, clapping his hands together once to catch your attention. You stopped what you were doing and landed in a perfect split with the spear parallel to your body, noticing your father and Happy’s presence. You got up and rushed over, your eyes quickly finding its way to the boy in the iconic red and blue costume.
“Hi D-... Mr. Stark. Happy.” You turned to Peter, loving the fact that he didn’t have his mask on yet so you could finally meet him as him. He was far cuter in person, you weren’t going to deny that. “I’m [Y/N].”
Your dad wanted this “test” to be authentic, so you couldn't tell Peter you were, in fact, a Stark. Plus you didn’t look like a Stark anyway, with you being adopted and all. It’d be a cinch.
“P-Parker, Peter. Parker Peter—I mean, Peter Parker,” Peter said softly, shaking your hand. God, you were so pretty that it made him a fumbling mess. He wondered if you two were the same age.
“Great. Now that both you kiddos are here, you both know what you have to do, right?”
You and Peter looked at each other and exchanged awkward smiles. “Mr. Stark, I’m not comfortable battling a… um…”
“Girl?” you finished. “I’d be more worried about yourself, darling.”
The way the word “darling” rolled off your tongue caused Peter’s face to redden like a cherry.
“I’m not saying girls can’t battle, I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Are you going to hold back if the enemy is a woman?”
Peter opened his mouth to say something but to no avail.
“You said you wanted to be an Avenger. There’s only one position available, so we’re going to be testing you both. Happy will launch the simulation sequence and then you two will be fighting one-on-one,” your father explained.
“Good luck,” Happy said, trying hard not to laugh. The two men walked a safe distance away where they could observe you both.
“What’s the simulation sequence?” Peter called out before putting on his mask.
“We’re going to be launching drones at you,” Stark called back from afar with cupped hands.
“Drones?!”
“Yeah, we want to see how much you’ve improved!”
“In 3, 2, 1!” Happy shouted as he pushed some buttons on his phone.
You and Peter both stared up at the sky as a swarm of drones lined up in a similar fashion as the game Space Invaders.
“May the best Avenger win,” you said, sending him a wink. He laughed nervously as you immediately launched yourself in the sky. Peter gasped in awe.
“She can fly?!”
Hovering in front of the drones, you closed your eyes and pressed your index and middle fingers together, forming a "V" shape. Bringing the fingers perpendicular to your forehead, it felt as if you were beckoning an unseen force. With unwavering focus, you opened your eyes, and the spear you held multiplied tenfold, floating effortlessly beside you. Extending your arm forward, you pointed confidently at the drones, issuing a resolute command for the spears to launch their attack. Explosions scattered throughout the sky as you managed to wipe out half the drones with one attack.
“And she can multiply things. Great,” Peter huffed, launching a web at one of the drones to join you.
“She’s going to destroy him,” your father said, chuckling to himself.
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“Kid, come back. Don’t be such a sore loser.”
Peter shook his head while removing his mask, muttering self-deprecating thoughts to himself at his performance. You watched as he walked away, rubbing the back of your neck.
“Did I go overboard?” you asked, a tinge of guilt eating away at your conscience. Your father chuckled and waved off your concern with a flick of the wrist.
“No, you did great. He’ll be fine.” He went after Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going any further. “Hey. You put up a good fight.”
Peter spun around, exasperated and using his hands to express his frustration. “I lost. There was no way I was going to win. She can fly, she can multiply things, she can use telekinesis, she can breathe fire—is she part dragon? How was I supposed to compete with that?!”
You saw him pointing at you from afar, giving him a small smile but was only reciprocated with a frown.
Tony put on a contemplating face. “Is she part dragon…?” he mumbled. “Anyway, I told you that I had to find someone else after you said no. And she’s earned her place. I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you lost fair and square.”
“But—”
“No buts. You aren’t ready. So lay low, be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and work your way up. Go to school, focus on classes, and finish that homework you’ve been putting off.”
“I don’t need to go to school.”
“Yes. You do. Even she goes to school,” Stark said, pointing over in your direction.
You went over to where Happy was, your eyes still glued on your father and Peter. “Happy, he looks so heartbroken.”
“I know. But it’s for the best. Kid’s too eager and knocking him down a peg might do him some good.”
“I feel bad.”
He patted your back and gave you a reassuring smile. “He will be okay. Your father appreciates your help.”
You immediately straightened your posture when you saw Peter come over with your father.
“Anything you want to say to [Y/N]?” your father asked, giving Peter a gentle nudge from behind.
“Congratulations,” Peter said, mustering up as much strength as he could to give you a smile. Because he really was happy for you, but it hurt for him. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and the pitiful gaze in yours wasn’t helping.
“Thanks. You did really well.”
“Yeah, but I have all the bruises,” he joked, pointing at his face in a circular motion. You took a step forward and placed your palm out in front of his face.
“May I?”
His eyes widened in confusion, but he nodded anyway. An ember glow emitted from your hand and all his bruises healed in a matter of seconds.
“You can heal people too? What on earth can’t you do?” Peter was both fascinated but also very annoyed at your perfection.
“I can only heal minor bruises,” you said quickly.
“Of course,” he muttered.
“Happy, take him home for me.”
“Got it. Come on, Peter.”
“Bye Peter,” you said, giving him a shy wave. He only gave you another meek smile before walking away. You glared at your father, who only let out a sigh of relief.
“Great job, kiddo.”
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The next day at school Ned practically crashed into Peter, who was at his locker minding his own business.
“Dude, dude, dude!”
“Whoa, what is it, Ned?!” Peter said, a hand on his chest from the sudden heart attack that was his best friend.
“There’s a new girl and she’s so cute. Have you seen her yet?”
Peter closed his locker shut, wracking his brain for a moment when he saw an unfamiliar face today. “No, I haven’t. What’s her name?”
“Uh… I can’t remember. Was it [wrong name]? Or maybe [another wrong name]?”
Peter looked down the hall and somehow amongst a cluster of students, he spotted you walking towards him. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes somehow went straight to you and only you. Irritation overcame him as he remembered the battle from yesterday. How you beat him so effortlessly, so ridiculously cool and being all perfect. And now you’re at his school? What, were you mocking him?
“Ned,” Peter said, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Is that her?” He pointed at you and nodded his head in your direction.
Ned looked over in your direction and snapped his fingers. “Yeah! That’s her.”
“Dude, that’s the girl,” Peter muttered.
“Huh? What girl?”
He thought about how he sulked on the apartment balcony, venting to Ned about you. “The… girl… remember what I told you over the phone yesterday?”
It took a few seconds, but Ned’s brain finally clicked. “She’s the one that beat you? Her? Oh my god, you didn’t mention how cute she was!”
“Will you keep your voice down? She’s coming this way!” Peter opened his locker again and hid his face behind it. Ned shook his head in disapproval.
“Are you embarrassed? Come on. Challenge her again.”
“I can’t.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“No, dude, stop. You aren’t supposed to know about her. Mr. Stark will kill me.”
“But she goes to our school.”
Peter hid his face in his locker until you finally passed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, feeling like he had dodged a bullet. That was, until Ned shouted out, “Hey! New girl!”
You stopped at the familiar label people were referring to you as. Once you turned around, you saw Ned’s huge smile while Peter still cowered in his locker. The boy you were walking with scoffed at Ned’s boldness.
“You don’t need to engage with them. They’re nobodies.”
“That’s not very nice, Flash,” you said, frowning at his poor choice of words.
“If we’re nobodies, why is she friends with Peter then, huh?” Ned exclaimed loudly. If a black hole could open up and swallow Peter whole, now would be the time.
“What, you know Penis Parker?” Flash asked you, incredulous at the new information. Peter carefully pulled his head out of his locker enough to take a tiny peek at you. He wondered what you were going to say.
“Yeah. I know Peter, Flaccid Flash,” you replied, bumping into his shoulder deliberately as you made your way over to Peter and Ned. The entire hallway filled with laughter at your stinging remark.
“Hi. I’m [Y/N]. I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”
Peter looked at your extended hand as if it was a foreign object, standing still as a statue. When his brain finally registered what you said, Ned had beat him to it, shaking your hand so fast like he was in the presence of royalty. “We would love to start over. I’m Ned. Peter’s best friend.”
You let out a laugh. “Hi Ned. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Without thinking, Peter grabbed your other hand. “Come with me.”
You didn’t have time to react and he led you to the nearest empty classroom, thankful class hadn’t started yet.
“What are you doing here?” he interrogated, letting go of your hand. You leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.
“I go to school here now?”
“But why here?”
“Because… it’s a nice school?”
Peter placed a hand on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next without sounding like an ass. “Look, you beat me and you’re an Avenger fair and square. I’m happy for you, really.” His words became soft and broken towards the end. “But seeing you reminds me that Mr. Stark will never be impressed with me. So can you give me space?”
His voice was frail but sincere. You got off the wall and gave him a nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Thank you.”
Before Peter could leave, you asked him one last question. “Sorry, but could you tell me where gym class is? I have it first period.”
It took everything in Peter not to curse out loud. He had to fight back his bitterness and said through gritted teeth. “Yeah. I have it first period too.”
You smiled to yourself, trailing closely behind him as he led you both to your first class. Together.
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Reblogs and thoughts are appreciated! Thank you!
Update: I might be in the middle of writing a part 2. :) Your support means a lot!
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madame-fear · 1 year
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ok but honestly like Dark!Lucerys with a stark reader, like instead of him going to storms end he went to winterfell and met cregans younger sister, he’s so obsessed with her, seeing her walk around with her direwolf, that soft smile she gives him whenever he walks past her. jesus kicking my feet rn holy shit
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OMG YESSS TOTALLY. Oh my god, Dark!Lucerys drives my imagination wild, I think I will have to write a one shot about this eventually😩
The second Lucerys arrived to Winterfell on Arrax such as his mother requested him to do so in order to get more allies for the Black Team of House Targaryen, his eyes would immediatly be fixed on you, standing right by the side of your elder brother, Cregan Stark.
There is something about you that has simply stolen all of his entire concentration, and attention. Maybe it's your features, how your dark hair seems beautiful in the snowy, cold environment of Winterfell, or perhaps... The way you so gracefully smiled at him, and curtsied down as to politely greet him upon his arrival.
Seven Hells, the entirety of his stay in Winterfell, even if it's just for some hours, he can't take his hazel eyes off you. Though the feelings for you would grow very slowly yet surely, the intensity is still vividly felt growing inside of him whenever you speak to him with such a soothing voice, and every move of yours is soft and graceful.
With the passing of time, Lucerys would find excuses to go to Winterfell and talk to you, or even, have House Stark invited as a special guest in Dragonstone — going as far as offering you to stay for several days. Sometimes, to return the favour, you'd even offer House Targaryen to spend some days in Winterfell. And whenever one of your Houses stays several days in either Winterfell or Dragonstone? Please, that'll be when his obsession for you would be felt more fervidly.
At Winterfell, Lucerys would often try to follow you in a discreet manner. Perhaps would just stalk you just to see where will you be going just to later on 'casually' bump into you and talk — admiring every inch of your features, and savouring the memory it remains with him. And savouring the way your sweet scent invades the environment around him.
Whenever you're riding your direwolf, he'll be there; staring from afar. The way you have such an ease to deal with wolves and ride on top of them with such grace and beauty just makes him want to protect you even more, and have you all for himself. His hazel eyes would lurk around you, even if you don't notice him, but he's there — swooning over you, and just keeping more memories of you for himself. Don't be surprised if during one of those times he's gazing at you ride your direwolf he'll approach to talk to you, and hear that dulcet voice of yours.
Or when you're walking around and pass nearby him, you'll shoot him a kind smile, and rapidly gaze down in a certain timid manner down at the floor, still vastly grinning. And oh, when you do that... Please, you'll drive him mad.
Lucerys would just become your very own shadow. You'll notice, that with the passing of time that House Stark is with House Targaryen, he'll always somehow be near you, it doesn't matter where you are. You'll find him staring and smiling at you, bump into him in the library, strolling in the gardens of Dragonstone... Wherever, he'll strangely be there, always near you, discreetly lurking you.
And if someone has the audacity to flirt with you? Oh, things will become much, much more obsessive with a Dark!Lucerys. It doesn't matter whether it's his very own brother Jacaerys the one flirting with you, or someone else — you're his, and no one elses. He won't be afraid of interrupting the flirting, and using an excuse to drag you away from the situation, even if you're unaware he's doing that because Luke can't stand someone trying to get his darling's attention.
The mere thought of you being with someone else sickens him deeply, and sparks a certain thought and behaviour that is creepily obssesive, and possesive over you — not caring if he just has to drag you away from everyone in your life, but he can't risk losing your attention. Even, since his compulsive dark behaviour gets the best of him, he won't be afraid to be a bit more audacious and pull you into a dark corner where no one else is nearby, and just let you know that you are only his, and your beauty and absolute perfection is only for him to admire and cherish.
Only he will be the lucky one of getting to admire every inch of your skin, and receive every single display of affection from you. You are his one and only darling, his most beloved treasure. And he thanks the Seven for having brought into his life such perfection of a woman.
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@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie
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dreamlandcreations · 9 months
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ao nykē perzōñi iksi masterlist
you and I are made of fire
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Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader
Summary: A tourney at Winterfell will change your life forever...
Warnings: canon-typical stuff, messing with the original timeline
• Daemon masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •
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• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen • summary: a dragon meets his match
• chapter 2 • ñuha prūmia • my heart • summary: celebrations after the tourney
• chapter 3 • ñuha ābrazȳrys • my wife • summary: you are presented to the court
• chapter 4 • ñuha dārilaros • my prince/my princess • summary: another celebration, another wedding
• chapter 5 • ñuha zaldrītsos • my little dragon • summary: you prove that you have more than enough fire in you
• chapter 6 • ñuha dārys • my king summary: a new king is crowned
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• Daemon masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •
• Taglist •
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