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aemonds-fire · 9 months

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The Tempest

Summary: Prince Aemond discovers his maid is frightened of storms.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 3038

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, profanity, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex and fingering.

Author's Note: This is not just my first Aemond fic, this is my first EVER fic. I am not a writer and this is my debut. Please be kind. I cannot thank @arcielee enough for beta reading and making suggestions.

Valyrian translation: sȳz riña - good girl

Hope you enjoy this! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Part two

You are happy to be Prince Aemond’s maid. In your sixth year of working in the Red Keep you have worked your way up from cleaning the common areas to becoming a maid for the royal family.

When you first learned that you would be assigned to Prince Aemond’s chambers you were uncertain how to feel. At first you were nervous, even a little scared, as you heard the gossip amongst the other servants. On one hand, you were glad you were not assigned to serve Prince Aegon; stories were plentiful regarding his drunkenness and lecherous behavior towards other maids.

But Prince Aemond was much more of a mystery to you. While you had rarely seen the tall and imposing prince, whispers about him said he was best avoided. The prince, who had been disfigured as a child, had grown to be an intimidating warrior. Everyone knew he spent hours training daily with the sword and shield, and that he rode Vhagar, the oldest and largest dragon in the world; the gossip in the servants quarters said he wore the eyepatch so as not to frighten the noble ladies.

Thankfully, he was not in his chambers most of the time while you were working. The first few times you had direct contact with the prince, you were shaking and were afraid to look at him, keeping your eyes downcast to the floor. Over the months you have served him you have become more relaxed in his presence, mainly because he ignores you for the most part. On the infrequent occasions you’ve had to interact with him you have found him to be distant, but polite and soft spoken. His demands are few and he has never made you feel unsafe in his presence.

Just like this evening, the prince is sitting in a chair facing a large, open window in his chambers. Dressed in a loose white shirt and loose fitting trousers, you notice that he seems to be feeling the summer heat just like everyone else in the Red Keep. He only said a quiet greeting when he returned to his chambers earlier than usual. After changing into cooler, more comfortable clothes, he simply poured himself a glass of wine and sat before the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead as you finish your evening tasks, you realize it is very dark out for this early in the evening. You glance out the window and notice the darkened clouds almost upon the capital. You watch a strong gust of wind enter the chambers through the window, moving the heavy drapes, and you can see some of the prince’s pale hair moving with the breeze.

You complete the final check of his chambers to make sure everything is in order for the night. Once you are satisfied, you make your way towards the prince, who is now standing near the window.

“Is there anything else you require this evening, your grace?” you ask softly.

Just as Prince Aemond is about to reply, a bright flash of lightning streaks through the dark sky. You jump, slightly startled, and a few seconds later you wince as a loud rumble of thunder makes you shudder.

Prince Aemond turns to you with a slightly amused look on his face. “Does the storm frighten my pretty maid?” He asks with the hint of a smile.

“Apologies, your grace,” you say with embarrassment, also taken aback by the prince calling you pretty. “Yes, ever since I was a little girl, I have never liked storms. Especially at night. I cannot sleep during a storm.” you reply sheepishly.

“The storm cannot hurt you, especially within the safety of the Red Keep,” Aemond tells you. “Come and watch the storm here at the window.” Aemond raises his arm to you, beckoning you to come closer to him.

You are more than surprised by the prince’s behavior. He has hardly ever spoken to you before, except when necessary regarding your duties. You cannot help but notice his regal features. His white blond Targaryen hair is long and straight. You find his angular face quite attractive with his straight nose, sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. You do not believe that even the scar and eyepatch detract from his beauty.

Forcing your mind to quiet your thoughts regarding him, you tell the prince, “I should probably return to my quarters. I won’t be able to see the storm there and I do not wish to trouble you with my silly fears.”

“You are just as safe here with me as you would be in your quarters. Do you think I would let you be harmed, hmm?” asks Aemond. “Now come,” he repeats.

Hesitantly, you walk over to stand next to Aemond in front of the window. You immediately feel a strong breeze blow in and you can smell the rain in the air. Another flash of lightning startles you, causing you to gasp and move closer to Aemond. You can hear the first raindrops falling now and soon a downpour begins, as the thunder rumbles again.

Aemond chuckles softly at your fear. He leans closer to you and says, “I’ll tell you a secret. I was afraid of storms too when I was a young boy. Now I love them.”

You find it difficult to imagine the lithe and muscular warrior prince was ever afraid of anything. You look up at him and ask, “How did you overcome your fear?”

Aemond smiled, “One day when I was riding Vhagar, a squall rolled in much faster than I anticipated. I was careless. I should have returned sooner. I had to fly Vhagar through the storm to come home. At first I was worried, when the rain started beating down on me, the wind tearing at me and flashes of lightning in the sky. Then I realized that Vhagar was powerful enough to ride through it. Not even a storm could match the power of the largest dragon in the world. I felt invincible. That day I discovered there is no greater thrill than riding a dragon through a storm.”

You feel Aemond’s arm go around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You tremble slightly, but you are not sure if it is from the storm or Aemond’s touch. You have always thought the prince handsome and not disfigured, as some called him. But he is royalty and you are nothing but a maid.

“Tell me, have you been with a man before?” Aemond questions you suddenly.

You are stunned by his question and it sends your mind racing. You are not completely innocent about the intimate acts between a man and woman, but your experience is limited. Besides, you know this is something that you should not do. You could lose your position for a dalliance with the prince, but you also know that you would regret refusing him for the rest of your life.

“Yes, your grace. I have,” you answer in a shaky voice as anticipation begins to build within you.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel his lips against your skin. Despite the warmth of his body pressing against you from behind, you shiver as you feel the wind begin to blow rain in through the window. The next streak of lightning across the sky causes your body to shudder as now your senses are being overwhelmed by the closeness of the prince and your fear of the storm.

Aemond feels your body tremble as he pulls you in front of him. “ My pretty maid, watch the storm, feel the wind and the rain. If you wish I can show you that storms are not to be feared, but enjoyed,” he says as he leans his face closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

The rain is coming down in torrents. Wind is gusting and blowing raindrops on them. Another burst of lightning illuminates the sky, followed seconds later by a boom of thunder.

He is behind you, keeping you in place. You can feel his hard lean body against your back. You feel the hardness of his cock against your backside. The ache of desire begins to build inside you, causing your cheeks to flush.

“Do you want me to continue distracting you from your fear of the storm, pretty one?” he hums, his lips now kissing your skin, nipping and sucking. His arms wrap around you, both hands now moving up to gently squeeze your breasts through your dress. Sighing, you feel your nipples harden. You lean back against his body with a soft moan.

Aemond softly bites your neck, making you gasp. You can feel warm wetness beginning to pool between your thighs. You are no virgin, but you have not been with a man in quite some time; only a short dalliance with a steward that you thought you loved once.

“Answer your prince, pretty one. You must tell me if you wish me to continue. I do not take what is not given freely.”

As the tempest continues to rage outside in the darkness, you whine, “Please don’t stop, my prince.”

That is all Aemond needs to hear. You hear a low growl come from the prince’s throat and then he whispers, “Sȳz riña.” in you ear in High Valyrian. You do not know what that means, but the sound of him speaking in his other language sends shivers up your spine.

He quickly removes your apron and tosses it aside, his hands untying the laces on the back of your servant's dress. He tugs the dress off your shoulders, keeps pushing the garment down past your breasts and your hips, until it falls around your feet. Your thin chemise quickly begins to get wet from the rain blowing in and Aemond gathers the light material, bunching it in his fists to give him access to your small clothes. The feeling of his fingers sends arousal through your body. You shimmy your legs to help the fabric slide down, kicking off your worn slippers in the process.

The front of your chemise is becoming soaked with rain. The chill of the wind and rain causes your nipples to pebble even more, poking through the practically sheer garment. He glides his large hands over your belly and higher to your breasts, cupping them, rolling your hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He continues to kiss and nip at your neck and shoulder, licking the raindrops off your skin.

One of your hands clings tightly to his arm while the other reaches around to hold onto his thigh as you brace yourself against his body.

You try to turn your head towards him, your lips seeking his skin.

“No, keep watching the storm,” he tells you.

Aemond slides a hand down over your belly, down to the place between your legs. Your legs instinctively part slightly to allow him access to your most intimate parts. You feel his fingertips part your folds, feeling the wetness that has begun to seep out of you.

“Hmmm, already getting wet, sȳz riña?" he growls in your ear. His finger finds that most sensitive nub and begins to circle around it, sending tendrils of pleasure through you. He continues to play with your breast, teasing your nipple, as he drags a finger though your wet cunt and pushes it into you as a crash of thunder roars in the sky.

You begin to pant as he works a finger in and out of your cunt. Aemond grinds himself against you and you can feel the hardness of his cock against your backside. Your body is now trembling with need. You gasp as he adds a second finger and rubs the palm of his hand over your sensitive nub over and over again.

“Do you like this? Does it feel good, pretty one?” Aemond asks in your ear. He sucks on your earlobe while he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your went cunt.

You can only whimper in response, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Your hips move to grind yourself against his hand, feeling his hard cock behind you.

Aemond moans against your neck, “So wet and tight around my fingers, sȳz riña. That’s it, cum all over my fingers. I can’t wait to make you come again around my cock.”

The coarseness of his language and desire to have him inside you sends pure lust through your body and that is enough to make you moan in ecstasy, your walls clench and flutter around his fingers. You are somewhat dismayed and embarrassed at how quickly he is able to unravel you to the point of being completely spent, with your legs shaking and trying to catch your breath. Aemond releases his grip on your breast and pulls you into his firm embrace, while sucking gently on your neck.

As the storm continues to pound the capital, Aemond pulls off the loose white shirt he wore and you feel him loosening the ties to his trousers. He turns you around to face him and brings you with him as he backs up to a nearby chair. Aemond sits and pulls you down to straddle his lap, pulling you into a desperate kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips.

“I will be your dragon through this storm. Ride me.” he says hungrily. A flash of lightning illuminates his face and you see the desire in his eye. Aemond grabs your soaking wet chemise and pulls it up and off of you, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

He reaches down, lifts his hips to lower his trousers to free his cock, painfully hard and with a reddish tip leaking fluid. He grabs your ass lifting you enough to line his cock to your cunt. You move your hips to coat his cock with your wetness. When you feel his cock at your entrance and you begin to sink down on him, slowly taking his throbbing length inside you. Aemond groans with pleasure into your breast, his tongue lapping at your nipple.

You whimper as you feel the stretch of his engorged cock filling you as you brace yourself by grasping his shoulders. You pause for a moment to let your body adjust to his size. Slowly, you begin to move your hips back and forth feeling the rough palms of his large hands gripping your hips. You cry out softly when he thrusts up into you.

Aemond’s hands encourage you to work your hips against his. You ride him, bouncing your ass against his thighs, each movement sending bolts of intense pleasure through you. He grunts softly with each slam of your hips, fingers biting into your soft flesh.

“So tight,” he groans, licking the beads of moisture from your skin. “You’re taking my cock so well.”

Your fingers are digging into the pale skin of his shoulders. Panting rapidly, your thighs and his hands are working together pushing you up and down, up and down, each roll of your hips forcing the tip of his cock against that sensitive spot inside you. The sounds of skin hitting skin fill your ears; it's depraved and desperate, and you've never felt such intense pleasure.

As each new thrust reaches deep inside you, mewling whimpers escape your mouth between ragged breaths.

He watches you, entranced by the sight of your bouncing breasts. A hand slides from your ass to move between your legs, his thumb finding your sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing more pleasure from you. He lowers his gaze to watch his cock moving in and out of you, glistening with your wetness.

Aemond plants his feet on the floor, leveraging himself to buck his hips up against you. He pulls his head back to watch your face, flushed with pleasure. His one eye is darkened with lust and his skin glistening with rain and sweat.

“Say my name, pretty one. Who is your dragon,” he orders, voice raspy with arousal.

“Aemond… Aem…feels… so…” you whimper, your thighs are burning from the exertion, and he moves his hands to grip your ass, taking control and giving you a welcome relief. His pace is intense, almost brutal as he thrusts up into you repeatedly. He lets out a curse as your cunt clenches around him, drenching his cock in a gush of wetness.

“Fuck,” he curses, grunting with every thrust.

You lean in closer to him, placing hot open mouthed kisses on his cheek, before he leans up to take your lips into another desperate kiss, driving his length up into you with a rapid pace.

“Sȳz riña,” he groans against your lips, nipping at them gently. His thumb furiously massages your bud, pulling you quickly towards an intense peak.

“Yes…Aemond, “ you moan loudly as the first burst of ecstasy spreads through your body. You tremble with a wave of shattering pleasure that you can feel all the way down to your toes. The walls of your cunt spasm around his cock, squeezing him.

He continues to push up into you throughout your release, feeling your body shake against his. The clenching of your cunt starts to push him over the edge, making his thrusts more erratic until you can feel his cock twitching within you. As you feel the warmth of his seed begin spurting deep within you, Aemond buries his face in your neck, grunting and his breath hot against your skin.

You are both panting heavily. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you cling to Aemond as he wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his, slowly coming down from your blissful state. Realization of what you have done begins to creep into your mind. A gentle kiss to your cheek and a sigh of contentment from Aemond calms you slightly.

“Look out the window, pretty one,” he whispers softly in your ear.

You raise your head and smile as you turn your gaze to the open window and see that the storm has passed, the rain is now just a gentle shower and the wind has faded into a light cooling breeze.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell

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vsenyatargaryen · 1 year

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Nerves of Fire

a|n; I love the idea so much!😂 hope you like this @witch-of-letters

Daemon Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader , Rhaenyra Targaryen x Platonic Daughter!Reader

warnings: fluff

Translations; Kepa ~ Father || Muña ~ Mother

There had been very few times in his life where Daemon Targaryen could remember feeling nervous. He had always been so self assured, and though he understood the many dangers of the world, he always thought ahead - always felt prepared for whatever might come his way. That side of his nature had only grown after Rhaenyra gave birth to their first child. A beautiful daughter. You.

At the age of 8, you had found yourself your very own dragon. One that neither he nor Rhaenyra expected.

Your parents could scarcely believe it as you described first meeting your dragon, named ‘Cannibal’ by the small folk of Dragonstone, on the island where you lived. You told them the tale of how you bonded with him, managing to calm him as he stood guarding over the remains of various carcasses. He was terrifying and magnificent all at once. You’d never felt such an array of excitement and fear, but you knew, in your heart - he was meant to be by your side. He was meant to be claimed by you.

The first sighting your parents had of you flying on Cannibal’s back around Dragonstone felt like something from a dream. The dragon was so calm, so content in your presence. The opposite to the usual ravenous dragon who terrified the local people, animals and dragons.

Despite being one of the largest dragons, he navigated the sky with such ease, his wings gliding through the wind. You were so small and fragile in comparison, but it was like you were born to be carried by him.

“Kepa! Muña! Will you come and meet him now?” You rushed into your parents' chambers, paying little attention to the ladies in waiting styling your mothers hair for the upcoming tourney, or the septa calling your name as she tried to catch up with you after running off from your lessons. Spending the day with your dragon sounded much more interesting.

You were quick to be at your fathers side as the septa caught up with you, panting for breath.

“I apologise, your grace, my prince,” she looked between your parents, wide eyed. “l tried to get her to stay at her lesson.”

“I am not a dog,” you commented.

Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a glance, your father unable to hide his smirk at your reply. You seemed to resemble your parents more every day, a fact he found such pride in.

“Thank you, septa,” your mother replied with a polite smile. “She can spend the rest of the lesson with her father.”

The septa bowed her head and left, closing the door behind her.

You turned to your mother with a furrowed brow, “When will you meet Cannibal, Muña?”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll come and join you once I’m finished here, sweet girl,” she told you, and you grinned in response before taking your fathers hand in yours, unable to hide your excitement.

“Come along, Kepa,” you tugged at him, “before I send you to the septa.”

“She wouldn’t want to deal with me,” Daemon laughed, letting you lead him out of the chambers and through the corridors.

Despite the nerves gradually growing inside him at the thought of coming face to face with the infamous wild dragon who feasted on his own kind for the first time, he knew couldn’t let you down.

After all, he would do anything for you. Even stand in front of the Cannibal himself.

There were no men willing to stay alongside your dragon, not even while you visited him up in the hills. He didn’t like anyone near him. The dragon would only accept you.

The trek across the island to Cannibal’s lair wasn’t far and the dragon seemed to sense your presence before you even reached him. With a bellowing roar, he swooped in from the clouds and landed in front of you, his dark, narrowed eyes focusing on your father as he bristled.

“Lykirī, Cannibal! Bisa iksis ñuha kepa. Lykirī!” [Calm, Cannibal! This is my father. Calm! ] you shouted, hand raised out in front of his large head, his teeth bared.

The prince bowed his head and lowered himself to his knees out of respect, silently reminding himself to stay composed as he watched you reassure and coax the dragon to obey. ‘Lykirī, Daemon. Lykirī. Even though the blood of the dragon runs through your veins, you are really not to his taste.’

This was one time Daemon was definitely content to not be desirable.

The strong blow of air and stench of Cannibal’s breath slowly faded from Daemon’s presence as the dragon focused back on you, gently nuzzling against your outstretched hand.

Daemon looked up and slowly stood, amazed by the interaction between you and the dragon. The bond between dragon and rider was always something special, but no one ever imagined it would happen with the Cannibal. Daemon Targaryen never imagined his daughter would be the one to claim him.

“Sȳz, (good),” you praised, breaking into a giggle when the dragon dropped to the ground and rolled onto his side, playfully blowing a little air at you through his nose and knocking you backwards into the arms of your fathers, who couldn’t help but laugh along with you.

#dad Daemon #daemon Targaryen x daughter!reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #happynerdwrites

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.”

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

#this weirdly being one of the fav things Ive written and I did it in like a couple of hours wimfksnf #like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 6 months

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As per usual, info under the cut <3

IM BACK BITCHES!!!

Alright, here's the design stuff:

I wanted to go for kind of a Lois Lane vibe, including the way she gets all the way up in business she should not be up in. At the same time I wanted to bring the super cutesy gothic lolita style in at least a little. So I ended up going with a poofy short jumpsuit with bows and teddy bears. I would love to make a specific thank you to @themooncallsyou for suggesting I look at the Moschino 2022 spring line for inspiration, it ended up having a very heavy impact on the final design.

I tried to lean into the investigative part of investigative reporter, so that's what the heavy coat is about. I thought adding that classic detective silhouette would be a nice final touch. Plus, I think Blondie likes the drama of the coat flying behind her as she's chasing down a lead. It makes her feel very cool.

Alright, so her original pet is a bear cub named Grizz but I have. Several problems with that. The main one is that it's not clear what the difference between Grizz and the actual sentient bears and her story is. There is never any differentiation between them. It's a Goofy-Pluto situation. Like it doesn't need to be explained, but the minute you start thinking about it too hard it gets weird real fast.

Anyways say hello to Honey the magpie!! Magpies are great mimics and lovers of shiny things, so I thought one would be a perfect fit for Blondie. She repeats bits of gossip and steals little trinkets and clues to help Blondie with whatever case she's on. Honey is where Blondie gets her infinite supply of bobby pins. Her scale is a little off, I don't think magpies are actually that big, but I still think she's cute so I'm not changing it now lol.

Now for character stuff:

Honestly I'm not really changing anything as much as I am exploring what's already there. I think Blondie has the potential to be really interesting, because she's unique within the class system of the school. She's kind of the inverse of Raven status-wise. Raven was born to royalty, but because her mom is the Evil Queen she's actually considered a commoner by society. Blondie was born to a wealthy commoner family, but her fear of rejection leads her to exaggerate the prestige of her lineage. Everyone sort of knows that she's not a Princess but she's so desperate to keep up the image of royalty that no one knows where she actually lands. Most of the royals assume her parents are Lord and Lady or Duke and Duchess or something. In reality they don't have any noble title, and Blondie is very insecure about that.

Blondie isn't so much ashamed of her family as she is terrified of exclusion and rejection. Her standing in society is the one major thing that makes her different from all the other royals, but she has major anxieties that she's always on thin ice. In her mind she's permanently one wrong step from total ostracization.

On a happier note, she does have a genuine passion for journalism! She considers her news blog/podcast practice for her future career. She starts out discussing school drama and gossip, but tries to stay a neutral third party. That's why her hair is so big. It's full of secrets. As the story goes on she starts reporting on more political and social topics beyond the boundaries of the school (and therefore becomes one of Milton Grimms worst nightmares). She is really, really, really good at getting into shit people do not want her to get into. She's got her eyes on prize and good luck stopping her

#eah #ever after high #coffeepaintart #eah fanart #blondie lockes #eah art #yes i have thought about this cartoon for children designed to sell dolls from almost a decade ago for far too long why do you ask #eah redesign

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jacks347 · 1 month

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(Is this stupid enough to be considered a crack fic?? Idk, we're going with it)

To say Hipswitch was surprised to see a woman sitting in his base next to Albus would be an overstatement.

Now, to say he was surprised to see said woman be so...dressed while sipping a cup of tea, that was accurate.

He'd never seen the demon bring back anyone who wore so many layers. Hell, now that he was really thinking about it, he hadn't really seen Albus bring back anyone at all. From the headscarf covering her hair to the skirt that brushed at her ankles and all the fabric and layerage of jewelry in-between, Hipswitch was getting warm just watching her.

The woman turned, smiling politely at him. She was rather pretty, warm brown skin with dark green eyes. Not necessarily someone he'd consider Albus’s type but everyone had their exceptions. "Hello there. You must be Hipswitch." Her voice was quiet and flowed like honey. She reminded Hipswitch of the ladies of the church in town, always speaking softly with inviting smiles. Definitely not Albus’s usual type. What, had he really gotten that bored?

"That I am. And who might you be?" Hipswitch took a seat across from the odd duo, eyes darting between the two in bewilderment. Albus huffed out a laugh, wrapping an arm around the woman's shoulders. "This is Faith. She a, ah, friend of mine." The woman, Faith, rolled her eyes with a small chuckle. "Mm, sure, friend. Let's go with that." She hummed as she took a sip of her tea.

Hipswitch nodded slowly, still going back and forth between them. It was very strange but he couldn't say he didn't appreciate the change. Hell, he welcomed it. Faith was polite, she was far more dressed than he expected, and she seemed very sweet. It almost brought a tear to Hipswitch's eye. "Well it's very nice to meet you. I've gotta say Albus, she's certainly a might better for you than the others from the whore house."

There was an audible beat of silence before it was broken by both a roar of laughter from Albus and a rather impressive spit take from Faith who was now coughing like mad as she tried to regain her composure while Albus was nearly doubled over in hysterics. Hipswitch was left rather confused, not exactly understanding why what he said had caused such a visceral reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

The statement only made Albus laugh harder as Faith finally recovered, her cheeks flaming red and her face a heavy mask of embarrassment before kicking Albus in the shin. "Stop laughing! I've never been so mortified in all my life." She dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head before pulling herself back up. "How do I put this lightly..." Faith mumbled as Albus’s laughter finally petered off. "Oh Switchy, Faith is a sister paladin." He corrected, making Hipswitch raise an eyebrow in confusion. "A what?"

"A nun." Came a surprised voice, making Hipswitch jump as he turned to find the source of it. "Hey Doc, how long have you been standing there? Almost gave me a heart attack. And how do you know that?" The doctor leaned against the doorframe, staring at Hipswitch with a wide-eyed expression between shock and horror. "When Albus came on I decided to do some research on the medical practices of New Tennessee. Maybe there would be something there to help better treat Albus if I needed to. And well, most of the information was from or about the sister paladins. They're the main form of healthcare, they're essentially priestesses who learn medicine to take of the knight paladins. But they're known to treat anyone who comes to their temples." The realization slowly dawned on Hipswitch, his eyes widening as it did. No wonder she reminded him so much of the women of the church, she was one of them! Oh he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

"So, in case you missed it in that grand fucking speech, you just called a nun a hooker directly to her face." Albus clarified, though he really didn't need to. Faith sighed, the initial embarrassment fading into a kind of indignant rage. "Can I slap him?" Albus snorted a laugh, flashing a sly grin at Hipswitch. "Oo, watch out there Switchy. She's got a mean backhand and I'm almost willing to let her do it. You kind of deserve it." Hipswitch wished he could disappear. "I-I am so sorry ma'am! I would never think of implying you would be that kind of woman, I just assumed-" He spluttered an embarrassed apology, making Albus burst into another round of hysterical laughter as Faith cut him off with a shake of her head. "Don't apologize, I know you didn't mean it. You worked with what you knew, I can't blame you for that. Though I do still want to slap you. And you do kind of deserve it."

Faith got to her feet stiffly, fixing the layers of her outfit and narrowing her eyes at a still laughing Albus. "I think I've seen enough of Maya for one day. I've got to pick Kerano up from school." She leaned down to poke a finger into the warrior's chest. "Don't make me come back out here to check up on you. Had me worried sick for nothing." Albus’s laughter faded as he lightly smacked her hand away. "Gods, yes, I know. I won't, I promise." She nodded with a satisfied huff before turning to the doctor. "I'm glad I could help with your research, you know how to reach me if you have any more questions." "Of course! Thank you again, Sister. It's been very insightful having you here. I should go continue to look over those notes." He turned and headed back into his office as Faith turned to Hipswitch. "And you." Hipswitch gulped, expecting the worst. Maybe that slap Albus had warned him about. "Maybe actually talk to someone before assuming they're some kind of common hooker. I take my faith very seriously and even if I didn't, I'd be far outside of his price range." She smiled warmly before turning on her heel and heading for the door. "See you again boys!"

Albus’s head dropped back onto the couch with a snort. "Outside my price range, she's crazy." He muttered. Hipswitch quietly got up and moved closer to punch Albus in the chest, making the demon wheeze out a breath as his head snapped up to glare at him. "Fucking hell, what was that for?" "For not warning me! I made a damn fool of myself in front of a nun because of you!" "Well, she's not really a nun, she's a priestess." "Regardless! She's a woman of faith and I disrespected her in the worst way possible!" Albus waved his concerns off. "Ah don't sweat it. Give it a week, she'll be laughing over it. It was damn funny." "You're actually the worst, you know that?" "Oh I am well aware Switchy. You're not the first to notice." Hipswitch could only roll his eyes. Why did he have to care about this idiot so much? "Okay but tell me one thing." "Whatcha got Switchy?" "Have you actually slept with her?" "Would you be jealous if I said yes?" "Albus..." Albus chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "Sorry Switchy, this is one time I don't kiss and tell. That's up to you to figure out." He confessed with a shrug. "Out of all the escapades you've rambled on about, this is the one you keep quiet about?" "Faith is different, okay? She...she deserves to not have her story told. So I won't." He defended. Hipswitch sighed in defeat, stepping back. "I'll never understand how your head works." "Good, I don't either. So looks like we'll both be confused."

(...idfk how to end this so this is what you get. Yes I made this entire thing because there is a non-zero chance that Hipswitch would assume Faith is a hooker the first time he met her and that was so damn funny to me)

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 29 days

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GAYS OF TUMBLR MAY I PRESENT GRENADA HOLMES, THE GAY.

OR SOMETHING IDK. THAT'S WHAT BANANA (@lxvenderjewel) AND RAY (@thearoacemess) CALL IT. THEY INTRODUCED IT TO ME TODAY.

ANYWAY. IT'S ACD SHERLOCK HOLMES AND BY GOD IT'S SO GAY. AND JEREMY BRETT IS SO PRETTY DEAR LORD. OH MY GOD. SO PRETTY. WHY. HOW. PLEASE.

ONCE MORE, TUMBLR, I AM A SLAVE TO THE BEAUTY OF MIDDLE AGED TWINK WHITE BRITISH MAN. AND HIS HANDS.

THIS TIME, BONUS, HE'S LONG-DEAD.

SUCH IS FUCKING FATE.

OH HE PLAYS FREDDY IN MY FAIR LADY BTW. I LOVED THIS MAN BEFORE I KNEW TWAS HIM, BACK IN MY YOUTH.

OKAY BUT ASH (@random-doctor-on-the-internet) WAS A SKEPTIC AND THEN ZE SAW BRETT'S EYES AND ZE WAS A GONER TOO.

EVEN THE MIGHTY GOOD OMENS ARCHIVIST, VEL (@orpiknight), USUALLY SO REFINED IN THEIR MESSAGES, WAS REDUCED TO A BLUBBERING MESS BY HOLMES GROWLING "GOOD MAN" TO WATSON.

PLEASE PLEASE MAGGOTS TUMBLR YOU NEED TO WATCH IT BBC SHERLOCK FUCKED HIS CHARACTER UP SO BAD I SEE IT NOW PLEASE.

HOLMES IS GENUINELY SUCH A DECENT MAN AND KIND AND POLITE HERE JUST LIKE IN ACD CANON.

SO MUCH SO THAT WHEN HE'S MEAN TO WATSON, WATSON IS LEGITIMATELY SURPRISED AND SAD (HOLMES DESCRIBES IT "TEMPORARILY DEPRESSED" OKAY Y'ALL GAY ASS FUCKS WITH A PRAISE KINK)

THEY'RE SO MARRIED AND SO SOFT AND SO FUCKEING GAY

ANYWAY. SO FUCKING PRETTY. THAT HE INSPIRED POETRY FROM ME.

AND IT'S SO AMAZING AND GAY AND FUNNY AND INTERESTING AND PLEASE WATCH IT I BEG OF YOU.

OH AND. FOR MOST OF THE STREAM, I SPOKE ONLY IN "MMMS" BECAUSE FUCK YOU OKAY THAT'S ALL I COULD MANAGE IN MY STATE OF GAY.

WITNESS MY GAY POETRY:

HOW DARE YOU FLOWERS HIS HANDS ARE THE MOST BLOSSOMING PETALS OF ALL.

(the flowers in the shot hid his hand okay I was desperate)

OH PRETTY BOY KILL ME PRETTY BOY FOR I HAVE FALLEN SLAVE TO THE BEAUTY OF THE HANDS OF A MIDDLE AGED WHITE MAN ONCE MORE.

AND WORDSWORTH'S FLOWERS SHALL NOT BE MORE GAY THAN I, WHEN YOUR EYES TURN UPON ME AND I SEE THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN AS I FALL FURTHER FROM IT.

(THIS WAS COZ OF MY MMMMM LANGUAGE OKAY.)

THE STREAM THAT BROKE ALL THE FUCKING GAYS.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #maggots #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #grenada holmes #jeremy brett #oh lord #so gay #GAY #GAYYYYYYY #john watson #more like begone thotson #dr watson #mmmmmmmmmm #MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM #johnlock #the og johnlock

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multific · 1 year

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Your Name Day

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Your name day was approaching and Aemond was yet to find the perfect gift for you.

He knew you deserved something special as this will be your first name day since you were wed to him.

Aemond wanted to prove himself to you, that he could be a caring and loving husband.

Even if your marriage was due to political reasons, both of you learned to respect and love the other.

And what better way to prove his love than a nice and meaningful gift?

Aemond thought of everything, even asked his mother and his sister for ideas. His mother said a gown, a gown to represent her House and possibly jewellery. But it was not good enough for Aemond.

And he probably shouldn't have asked his sister since her reply was something about spiders, and you hated spiders.

So, Aemond was clueless.

While a gown and jewellery was for sure not a bad idea, it was too generic, he wanted something more personal.

And so, he came up with an idea.

First, he excused himself from you for a couple days, saying he will be travelling for a political matter leaving you for a couple days.

Secretly, he went to your birthplace.

He thought a pretty flower which you can grow in your own garden would be a perfect idea. It was meaningful and nostalgic as you had to leave your home when you were wed to him.

Prince Aemond looked everywhere for a nice flower but found none.

Why was it this hard?

All he wanted to prove that he could be a capable and loving husband. He let out a sigh as he walked back to Vhagar, going through town, he passed the market when he saw a lady. Something about her intrigued the Prince as he walked over.

He noticed she had a kitten in her basket.

"Sir, would you be interested? My cat had a litter and I cannot afford to care for them, I am giving them away for free, she is the last one, 16 week old healthy little girl, Sir." The cat looked really nice, gorgeous white fur, blue eyes. "She is a Birman cat, Sir. Perhaps your wife would like her?" the old lady asked as Aemond looked at her. She took this as a sign. "They are good companions, lap cats as I call them, they are calm and good with children. Protective for their size, they do not wander and follow their owner everywhere, kind companions." the lady explained as Aemond looked back at the cat. The blue eyes of it captured him once more.

"How much?" is all Aemond asked.

"Oh, Sir, for free, all I wish is for her to have a good loving home." she smiled at the Prince.

"I'll take her, but not without payment."

Aemond even got the basket from the lady, she nearly cried when Aemond insisted on giving her payment. And he paid a good amount, well, good amount for her, barely anything for him.

And with the perfect gift, Aemond was heading home.

By the time he got back it was your name day. He found his home decorated in flowers of your choice as the castle was getting ready for the occasion.

He found you in your shared chambers alone.

"My Love." you turned to him with a smile, making a face at the basket he was holding.

"What-"

"I wish you a very happy name day, My Love. This is my gift for you but first I must give you a kiss, I have missed you." you smiled as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Can I look?" you asked, like a child asking for permission. Aemond put the basket down and opened it, you watched as a small creature emerged. "Aemond, where..." as you trailed off Aemond worried. Did you not like cats? You usually loved animals. Did he get the wrong gift? "She is gorgeous." you said as you picked her up, smiling at the kitten as it made small noises. "Where did you get her?"

"A lady was giving them away, she said hers had a litter. Apparently she is a Birman cat, she said they are good lap cats, whatever that might be. Do you like her?"

"Like? Oh, My Prince this is such a gorgeous gift, she is beautiful." you placed the cat down, letting her explore her new home. "I do not know what to name her."

"I’m sure you will think of something, My Love." he smiled as you went to hug him.

"How will I ever compete with this gift when your name day comes?" you asked as you watched your kitten explore.

"I already have you, what more can I ask for?"

"Cazimir." you suddenly said and Aemond looked at you with surprise. "I will name her Cazimir, Cazi for short."

"I like that, sounds royal, fits her."

"It means Destroyer of Peace as I believe she will cause some problems for us but it all will be worth it. And as for your gift, I'll be sure to find something other than myself." you laughed as he leaned in to kiss you once more.

You smiled but you already had a good idea.

Your husband had a dark ball for his eye, and you just knew a nice sapphire would be more fitting for a prince like him.

Now, you just needed to find someone to make it.

As for your name day. Everything was perfect as it was expected.

Dinner was simple yet royal, you didn't ask for anything grand and so it was to your liking.

You even had cake.

And when you retrieved back to your room, Cazi was sleeping in her little basket, the tiny little kitten looked too comfortable to care that Aemond's lips found your neck and shoulders as you both moved to the bed.

Best name day ever.

A/N: Not Aemond doing last minutes shopping...

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2buckyrec ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Anonymous: How dare you break my heart like that with the latest Alcina fic. I demand (but in a polite way. Like a really polite way) that you make a fluffy one with maid!reader who's quite strong and Alcina has a big ass crush on them so the girls would constantly ask for help lifting the most random stuff whenever Alcina is around so she would gay panic (uno reverse card tall vampire lady!) and it doesn't help that reader is also a big flirt but only with her. Bonus points if the reader is also quite tall and is actually strong enough to lift Alcina. I saw a post with Alcina being a blushing mess and now I want more so there's that. Thank you!

I must confess that I have no idea what fic is being referenced at the beginning of this ask lol. But, this is a really great prompt! Reader, as usual, is gender neutral. Let’s get into it!

You had been working at the castle for a few days. It’s kind of an intense environment. There is always work to be done, but you have definitely been given a lot of the tasks that involve heavy lifting… Okay, damn near every task that requires a lot of physical labor. You don’t mind. It feels nice to have something you’re good at.

You have always been a bit of a misfit in the village. You’re incredibly tall compared to pretty much everyone. You also have a very muscular form from working various jobs such as carpentry and farming. You can come off as very… Intimidating, shall we say? However, you’re really just secretly longing for company.

One morning, you have your first encounter with Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters: Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. They are… Interesting.

“Holy crap, Hercules! Anyone ever teach you to fight with these massive paws?!” Cassandra says as she compares how large your hand is in relation to her own.

You instantly blanch at the comment which makes Daniela coo at how shy you are. “Oh, It’s okay, tough stuff.” She says, patting your shoulder. “Cassie is just being mean!” She says and sticks her tongue out at her sister. “I bet you’re a gentle giant!” She gushes.

Your cheeks are now flaming red. “I… I, um-” You stammer.

“Cool it, you two!” Bela admonishes her sisters before turning to you apologetically. “I am so sorry about my crazy sisters.” She says and gestures at the brunette and redhead. “I’m Bela. What’s your name?” She asks warmly.

You smile at her, thankful to not be gawked at. “I’m Y/N.” You say.

“Oh, now I get it. I heard Mother talking about you! She never remembers any of the castle staff.” Dani says. “I heard her ask one of the maids to tell her more about a certain ‘Huge and strong servant’. You’re definitely her type.” Dani giggles wildly.

Your stance becomes rigid and you clench your teeth in discomfort. Lady Dimitrescu… You’d seen her around the castle and… She’s definitely your type. But, you’d never let yourself become emotionally invested. She’s your boss and off-limits. It doesn’t matter if you think she’s gorgeous because she’d never give you the time of day. Alright? Feelings appropriately squashed? Great. Let’s continue.

Suddenly, a very devilish look overcomes Bela… The sister who you thought was the most well-adjusted. She eagerly pulls Dani and Cass away from you and the three huddle in a nearby corner to talk.

You assume that you have been dismissed so you return to your daily tasks. What a crazy trio.

Over the next couple of days, you start getting bizarre requests from the sisters.

“Y/N, can you pick up this couch and move it to the other side of the room?” Cassandra orders one day.

You raise an eyebrow, but quickly nod your head. “Of course.” You say. You easily grab the couch around its middle and carry it all the way across the room. When you’re finished, you look up to see… Lady Dimitrescu… Right in front of you… Face-to-face. When did she get here?

Alcina did not expect to get so turned on by someone she barely knows. This is torture. Her usually calm but commanding presence is failing her.

Your thoughts are all over the place, but you take in the sight of Alcina’s red cheeks. She looks completely flushed. She must be hot! Do something, Y/N!

“My Lady, may I go grab you a glass of cold water? You look a bit peaked.” You say, hoping you haven’t offended her.

Alcina’s face only becomes hotter as she hears your voice. To be honest, she’s been fervently imagining what it sounds like. But your real voice is even better than in her dreams. Alcina finally snaps out of her gay panic as you look at her before clearing her throat. “I… Um, I just need… Some air, that’s all.” She squeaks out and leaves as fast as possible.

Before you can ask Cassandra what that was all about, she swarms away. Of course. You hope you didn’t just fuck things up.

Later on, Alcina and Bela are playing chess and you are assigned to bring them tea. Everything seems to be going fine right now. Alcina looks better than she did earlier. However, at one point in the game, Bela “Accidentally” drops one of her pawns on the floor and it rolls underneath a giant grandfather clock not too far away.

Bela clucks her tongue before asking if you wouldn’t mind moving the clock to get the piece.

Alcina’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “Bela, that clock is easily hundreds of pounds-” She begins.

But, you easily lift the clock up and move it over. “Here it is, Lady Bela!” You say, happy to have found the little pawn. You hand it back to Bela, who can’t help the self-satisfied grin she’s wearing. She’s a genius.

Alcina is red hot. Again. Just how strong are you?! She tries to continue playing and focus on the game, but on the inside she is freaking out. Her mind eventually wanders to the idea of you easily scooping her up into your arms in a show of romantic passion. She’s certain you could hold her without breaking a sweat and that feels… Nice. Normal. She hasn’t been held in so long. It’s torment to have you to rile up these deep fantasies, but… She just knows you would take excellent care of her.

Alcina looks to you out of the corner of her eye, before politely excusing herself from the game with the lame reasoning of needing to get work done.

Bela smiles and nods at her mother. Mission accomplished. Just wait till her sisters find out about this!

You and Alcina are both completely smitten with each other… What could the future hold?

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

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sgiandubh · 2 months

Text

With friends like this...

I usually wouldn't pay attention to what a very contrived, very minor troll player writes.

But this, this made me immediately howl. Legit:

Answering an Anon she probably wrote herself (not that it matters), this person summons the Gods of Critical Thinking. In doing so, she manages some stupendous gobbledygook.

I understand C's resounding silence forces you to pretzel your three collective neurons until there is no tomorrow. However, policing the fandom is no easy task, plus I am sure that you are not on a retainer (unlike others) and/or whatsoever qualified to act as Her Taciturn Majesty's spokeswoman.

Face it: she doesn't need you and, based on what we know, she is perfectly able to speak for herself. That's harsh, I know - but real.

Let me see if I understood correctly, madam. You basically say this, in plain English:

If the Queen of Kale doesn't post, that doesn't mean she can't thank people in person or by private email 'and/or via handwritten note'.

Excuse me, what? 'Handwritten note'? Where the fuck are we, the Kingdom of Syldavia?

🤣🤣🤣

Hey, BIF, let me guess: Tish Baldridge and 1962 called and you, being bored and home alone, picked up the phone, right?

Right?

Undeterred, you add: 'maybe she shared with her sponsors and hosts the reason for this choice ' (remember, LOL: being unexplainably, ahem, forgetful) and 'they understand'.

Lady, this is PR 101: if you promote something I graciously entrusted you with, I want the bang for my buck. This is not a 'the dog ate my homework' kind of situation, here. This is quid pro quo, as far as sponsors and sponsoring go.

Remember (LOL) : sponsors are not your ('understanding') friends. Sponsors are people with whom you did sign a contract, a legally binding document that spells out your mutual rights and obligations. Such as, for example, to post something on your socials every time you appear at an event hosted by the designer/creator, you name it.

And this is precisely how I knew no such thing happened, at the London Fashion Week. She was under no legal obligation to post anything. Sure, it would have been nice and polite towards those kind people inviting. But that's not the point, here and this is exactly why you went berserk. The point is it would have been normal interaction with this fandom and excuse me, but it's her prerogative not to do so. I don't remember having signed any legal document together, Mrs. B and I. She doesn't owe me anything. The only thing she owes herself, in this situation, is to make sure her image is properly taken care of.

Congratulations, madam: while babbling pointlessly about sponsors and handwritten notes, you've just (#inadvertently) thrown your Goddess under the bus.

A bon entendeur...

#fandom #shitshow

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aemonds-fire · 7 months

Text

Answered Prayers: Dark Series HOTD Aemond Targaryen x Fem OC Part Three : A Battle of Wills

Summary: First infatuation, then obsession. Prince Aemond has found the lady of his dreams and the gods give him a way to keep her. But the Lady is more than she seems. A Dark Romance

Pairing: HOTD Aemond Targaryen x Fem OC

Word Count: 4344

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, DUB/CON - NON/CON, Strong Sexual Content, coercion, angst, mention of murder/suicide, medieval-canon sexism, profanity

Answered Prayers Masterlist

Fire's Masterlist

Enjoy! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Kepus - Uncle riñītsos - little girl Ao issi ñuhon - You are mine

You awaken in the morning to the sound of your maid Rona knocking on the door, rousing you from your slumber. When the cheerful young maid comes into the room, she begins to pull back the heavy drapes to allow the morning light into the room. You sit up in bed, trying to untangle yourself from the bedclothes, and from the state of the bed, your sleep was clearly restless.

Accepting Rona’s offer of a bath before breaking your fast, you allow the warm water to soothe your tired body and the fragrant oils to refresh your senses. Once dried off, Rona assists you with a dark-colored dress, putting a simple braid over the rest of your long, loose tresses. Another maid informs you to await a visit from the queen later in the morning.

Meanwhile, you consider your options. You have no wish to remain in the capital, preferring to return home as quickly as possible. You are now the lady of your house, and though you are young and unmarried, you have little worry that you will be able to take control of your life if you are in the familiar territory of your own home. Your state of mourning gives you time; if you must marry, it will be a young lord of your choosing, not your father’s choice.

But that leads you to the pressing matter of how to deal with Prince Aemond. ‘Is this simply a game to him, some amusing diversion that he will tire of?’ you wonder. You understand very well the precariousness of your situation; an accusation from him would see you executed for murder. ‘What does he want?’ you ask yourself again.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door by a member of the kingsguard announcing the arrival of the queen.

Bidding entry, you stand to see Queen Alicent, Princess Helaena, and Prince Aemond walk into your chambers. You dip low in respect to each, though the prince’s unexpected presence causes your heart to quicken with unease.

Queen Alicent comes over to you, gently placing her arm around your shoulders. ”My dear girl, I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling, but I assure you we will do whatever we can to aid you through this trying time,” she tells you.

“Thank you, your grace. You are most kind,’ you respond with a sad smile and an invitation to sit. The queen and her daughter take seats next to each other on a small sofa opposite you, while the prince remains standing behind them, facing you.

While the queen and the princess inquire about your wellbeing with genuine concern, the prince is in his usual stoic pose, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back and no trace of emotion on his face.

You try ignoring his presence, focusing solely on his mother and sister, accepting their condolences graciously, and answering their questions politely. When Princess Helaena invites you to join her and her children for a morning in the garden, you tell her that sounds lovely.

Queen Alicent then reminds you that you need not make any decisions regarding your future right away and that you should take the time you need to mourn your family.

Before you can respond, Prince Aemond says, “Mother, perhaps Lady Mira should remain here at the Red Keep during her mourning. Here, we can assure that no one tries to take advantage of her during this difficult time.”

The queen glances proudly up at her son, agreeing, “Aemond, that is a wonderful idea."

Turning to you, the queen continues, “Helaena and the children would love your company as well. It would also do you good, I think.”

Princess Helaena smiles broadly. “We can spend time together, and the children will adore you, I’m sure.”

You see both the queen and the princess smiling at you expectantly, hoping you will accept the offer to stay. Behind them, Prince Aemond is smirking at you, as if challenging you to decline the offer.

Choosing your words carefully, knowing you are taking a risk, you say with a sad smile, “I would love to accept your generous offer, your grace, but I fear I would be remiss in my duty to see my father and stepmother back home to their final place of rest.”

“If it would put your mind at ease, I shall personally see to the arrangements to have your father and stepmother taken back to your home,” Aemond offers. Though this voice betrays no emotion, the look in his eye warns you not to defy him.

Forcing yourself to smile graciously, you bite back the words you wish to say, instead responding demurely, “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity. You are right; perhaps it would be best to remain here for a time, though eventually duty will require that I return home," you reply, shifting your eyes to him as you finish speaking.

Soon, the royal family take their leave; the queen and princess were clearly pleased, and the prince once again showed nothing but unsmiling detachment.

You are left alone in your chambers, seething at being maneuvered by the prince into staying in King’s Landing. You have time; you remind yourself. There is nothing he can do while you are in mourning; bide your time, figure out his motives, and try to dissuade him of this marriage nonsense.

Thankfully, the prince keeps his distance from you for a time. You keep to yourself in your chambers, resting and thinking and restricting your activities to quiet walks or reading in the library. Eventually, becoming restless, you accept Helaena’s invitations to visit with her and her children. You begin a routine of spending your mornings with her, sometimes in the royal chambers or in the gardens.

You can’t help but like the princess, finding her company pleasant and her personality sincere. The little prince and princess are delightful children, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time spent with them.

One day, while chatting with Helaena in the garden, you hear the children squeal “Kepus!” with enthusiasm. Turning, you see Aemond bending down to embrace his niece and nephew. Helaena smiles at her brother, and you bow your head in greeting.

“Lady Mira, you look well. My sister tells me the children are quite taken with you, and your company makes her days far more pleasant,” he says cordially, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It seems your decision to remain here has been beneficial to everyone.”

With a smile, you say, “The children are lovely, and Princess Helaena has become a dear friend to me. I shall miss them terribly when I must leave and return home.”

He is so adept at hiding his emotions that you barely catch the darkening of his expression. While your gazes meet, he says, “I was hoping we could take that walk you promised me.”

You glance towards Helaena, but she says, “It’s a lovely day for a walk, and it’s time for me to take the children back to our chambers.” After bidding both of you a good day, she takes her children’s hands and goes back into the Keep.

Taking Aemond’s offered arm, you allow him to lead you down one of the garden paths. Since the weather is pleasant, with a gentle breeze blowing and fragrant flowers in full bloom, others have also decided to avail themselves of the gardens, forcing you to maintain an amiable appearance despite your inner turmoil. The prince beside you has also softened his demeanor, actually gracing passersby with courteous acknowledgements.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine day, your grace?” You inquire as you continue to stroll leisurely beside him.

“You did promise me a walk in the gardens; I decided this was a good day to claim it,” he answers smoothly. “We should also be seen together for appearances, and when our betrothal is announced, everyone will simply assume that we became close during this most difficult time for you.”

You cannot help the involuntary stiffening of your hand on his arm, tightening your grasp slightly. “I would rather you abandon that notion, for I have no wish to marry,” you inform him.

Increasing his pace, he leads you to a more secluded area along a high stone wall while glancing around to ensure no one can overhear him. “I thought I made myself clear that night in your chambers,” he whispers harshly in your ear. “What part of ‘you will be my wife’ did you not understand?”

“I understand what you said," you reply, trying to keep your voice calm. “What I do not..."

Aemond interrupts you. “Hmm, if you understand, then why do you make a point of talking about leaving whenever you are in my presence?” he admonishes you. “You will only return to your house as my wife.

Your eyes narrowing in anger, you turn to face him. ”I risked everything, not only for my mother, but to ensure that a man who did not love me would not control my life. I did not do what I did just to give my life to you or anyone else.”

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him. “But you have no choice, riñītsos,” he reminds you. “Not if you want to keep that pretty little head of yours.”

“Why me? I am nothing to you,” you hiss in frustration, failing to pull away from him. “Am I simply amusement to you?” You continue, while you can feel how large his hands are with his palms splayed against your body, holding you in place, as you stare up at his face. You force yourself to look into his eye, holding your ground against him while trying to learn how to read him.

Aemond sighs, looking down at your face, a distinctive half-smirk and half-smile forming on his lips. He closes his eye for a moment before answering, “No, you are not amusement to me; you are far more than you know.”

For a second, you think he is about to kiss you, but you lean your head back with a hint of a smile, saying, “Ahh, so this is not just a game to you, which tells me you want something.” Your smile grows as your mind races through the possibilities.

Resting your hands against his chest, you ask, “Is it my inheritance you want? Am I a second son’s chance at lands of his own?”

“Your house and lands mean nothing to me,” he scoffs. Though the quickness of his denial tells you otherwise, you know you have at least hit a sore spot with him.

You cannot help the wry chuckle that escapes you. “Yes, I see what this is about. If it’s not a game to you, and if it’s not my inheritance you seek, then you desire to have me in your bed.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. The darkening of his eye, the tautness of his body, and the slight quickening of his breath tell you that you are right.

Before he can respond or you can ask another question, the sound of voices and people approaching force you to step back from each other, both of you trying quickly to present an appearance of propriety and formality. After exchanging polite greetings, you take advantage of the interruption to begin making your way back.

With only a few long strides, he catches up with you, falling into step beside you. “I did not give you permission to leave, and our conversation is far from over," he reminds you.

Now back among people, you coyly tell him, “I think we disappeared from view long enough. You wouldn’t want to damage my reputation, now would you?”

Just before you reach the entrance, Aemond leans towards you slightly and says, “Dismiss your maid early; we will continue this conversation tonight in the more private setting of your chambers.” He turns on his heel, leaving you to watch him stride away from you, his long hair swaying with his movement.

You spend a quiet afternoon in your chambers, even choosing to have your supper alone. After eating, you have your maid help you prepare for bed, pleading tiredness. Once dressed in your nightgown, with your hair brushed, you dismiss her for the night, telling her you intend to retire early. You do not like the idea of receiving him in your night clothes, feeling it puts you at a disadvantage.

Deciding to sit quietly near the open window, enjoying the cooling breeze, you try to gather your thoughts, feeling like this is the calm before the storm. You realize you are playing a dangerous game with him, challenging him the way you are, but meek submission is not in your nature. Prince Aemond is a difficult man to read, and your interactions with him have been limited, though intense. A few qualities of his are beginning to stand out to you.

Eventually, you hear movement in a shadowy corner of the room, followed by the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Even if you weren’t expecting him, you would know it was him, as if some bond were forming between you, allowing you to sense his presence. Rising from your chair, you face him, noticing he is still fully dressed, wearing leather, all in black, though you notice no weapons on him as you walk to a nearby table.

“Your grace,” you say with a smile as you pour a cup of wine. “Would you care for a drink?” I offered the cup to him. You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes closer, taking the cup from your hand, your fingertips touching in the process. You watch that increasingly familiar smirk form on his lips, his eye never leaving your face as he begins to drink, not stopping until he has emptied the cup.

Unable to hide the soft chuckle that escapes you, you pour a cup for yourself, taking a sip before saying, “Your bravery is impressive, your grace.”

“I do not believe you are foolish enough to murder me in your chambers. Another death by poison would be quite difficult for you to explain,” he replies, setting the empty cup on the table.

Giving him a wry smile, you nod your head in agreement while setting down your own cup. “Yes, you’re right. I found myself unable to find a plausible explanation."

Aemond arches his brow. “So you did consider murdering me tonight?”

“I admit the thought did cross my mind, but we will simply have to settle our differences another way.”

“You will be my wife; the matter is settled,” he responds. “Unless you wish to be executed for murder?"

You shake your head at his words. “So you are determined we will marry whether I wish it or not?” you demand.

“Why do you continue to vex me? I am a prince of the realm, and you refuse me. I could have your head, and you reject me,” indignation in his voice.

You notice that his gaze on you has not wavered, unnerving you and reminding you that you only wear your nightgown. “Must you stare at me as if you are some predator stalking his prey?”

“Forgive me, but you are such a beautiful sight that I cannot resist.” Pausing momentarily before he continues. “I hope after tonight we can put an end to your resistance to me, and you will accept that we will be married."

“You barely acknowledged my existence before coming to me and threatening to expose my crime unless I marry you,” you retort.

He moved closer to you, and his eye darkened with his ire. ”A very generous offer for a little kinslayer like you.”

“Exactly, so why would you want me for a wife?” Your eyes narrow as you continue, “You also kissed me, so you cannot hide that you desire me. Wanting me in your bed in exchange for your silence, I could understand that, but not joining us for life.”

You let out a surprised cry when Aemond roughly grabs your arms, pushing your back against the wall. His face is mere inches from yours; you hear the hiss of his breath and feel its heat on your skin. “Your body for my silence—is that a bargain you would make? You spurn my offer of marriage, but you would let me fuck you like a whore in order to keep your secret, hmm?”

Your eyes are wide with trepidation at his sudden shift in demeanor. When you open your mouth to speak, he quickly moves his fingers over your lips. “No, I will speak, and you will listen,” he hisses in your ear. You are unnerved enough that you stay quiet.

He brushes his lips against your ear, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You have tormented me since the day you arrived. You are my first thought when I awake and my last thought before I sleep,” whispering against your skin between wet kisses on your neck. “You distract me during my training and my studies. You invade my dreams, but you are the answer to my prayers.”

Your temper overriding your fear, you hiss back at him, "You speak like a madman.”

His hand slides down over your throat, resting at its base with his long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place. “You drive me mad, mad enough that I would have you for my wife despite your murderous ways. I am mad enough that I have already fucked you many times in my mind.” He places his open palm over your breast, squeezing, before teasing your nipple through the thin fabric into a hardened peak with his thumb.

You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes your lips. Pinned between the wall and his body, you have nowhere to go and no chance of pushing him away. Arching your back to resist only pushes your breast into his palm. Your mind struggles, conflicted with your anger at being overpowered versus the new sensations his lips and hands evoke, Despite the warmth of his body against yours, you shiver when his hand slides over the curve of your hip, pulling up the hem of your gown so he can slip his fingers past your underclothes into the wetness of your cunt.

Aemond smirks when your eyes go wide as his finger plays with the bundle of nerves between your legs. “I can tell that no man has ever touched you this way. If another had, I would kill him. If another ever should, I will kill him. Only me; it will always be only me.” Resting his forehead against yours, he pulls down the neckline of your gown enough to move his hand inside to cup your bare breast, rolling the peak between his thumb and forefinger.

Your legs instinctively part slightly, giving him more access to your most intimate parts, while your hand grabs hold of the belt around his waist to steady yourself and keep him near you. Little whimpers from in your throat as your body betrays you, responding to his touch that sets your skin afire.

Feeling that you are coming close to your peak, he asks, “Your body for my silence; will you agree to that arrangement? Tell me now, yes or no.” As he waits for your answer, he withdraws his finger from your stimulated bud.

You sob over the loss of the exquisite pleasure that was about to overtake you. “Please,” you are unable to keep from whining, though for him to continue or stop, you are not sure. A firm pinch to your pebbled nipple finally prompts a whining “yes” from your lips, desperate for him to continue.

Hearing you acquiesce and seeing the pleading in your eyes, he claims your lips with a forceful kiss. This time you surrender, letting him have his way and slipping his tongue in to dance with yours. Your arms go around his slim frame, and your fingers tangle in his long hair.

You’ve shared a few gentle kisses of affection before, but this is nothing like that. Aemond’s kisses are about possession and his need for your submission; you do not resist because of the intoxicating desires he is awakening within you.

Pulling back, he lets his eye roam over your face, committing to memory the flush of your skin and the turmoil in your eyes. The irresistible feeling of power that comes over him only inflames his lust more, thrilling him that he can do this to you. It is the sight of your kiss swollen lips that dictates his desire now.

Swallowing hard, he commands you, “On your knees."

Confused, “What…?”

“I want that pretty mouth on my cock,” his voice breathy, his hands on your shoulders and firmly pushing downward. “Hmm, will you break our arrangement so soon?” He asks when you initially resist.

Shaking from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through your mind, you kneel in front of him, keeping your eyes downcast. You are hesitant and fearful because you have never done anything like this before. You are angry at him for making you do this, though you can’t help the quivering feeling going through your body, combined with the unsatisfied ache between your legs.

The sight of your subservience sends a dark thrill through him. He loosens his breeches, sighing when his engorged cock springs free. Running his fingers through your hair, he grasps a handful at the back of your head, wanting you to see him stroke himself. “Look at what you do to me."

Feeling a tug of your hair, you raise your eyes and watch him pump his hard length, red at the tip, and leaking fluid. You have never seen a man’s cock before, only drawings in a naughty book one of your maids secretly gave you. Your eyes go wide, shocked at his size. When he moves the tip of his cock to your lips, you don't need to be told to open your mouth.

He slides his length partway into your mouth, savoring the hot wetness surrounding him. When he feels you tense, he pauses, instructing you to breathe through your nose, allowing you to adjust to him filling your mouth. “Use your tongue like that," he murmurs. “You feel so good.” He slowly begins to work his hips, controlling the movement while he holds your head in place.

There is a saltiness to his taste, a muskiness to him, that is unusual to you. His member feels heavy on your tongue as he pushes more of himself into your mouth and to the back of your throat, wanting you to take all of him, though you cannot. As your jaw begins to ache and you struggle with his length, you can’t help but moan, the vibration only increasing his pleasure. He continues to mutter praises about how good you are and how well you are taking him. Each adoration sends a flush of wonderment through you, that you can have this effect on him. He’s built a steady rhythm of pushing in and out of your mouth, your lips feeling every blood-filled vein along his shaft. Your body tingles, and wetness still leaks from you, soaking your garments between your legs.

The sight of you obediently taking his cock in your hot, wet mouth stokes his pride and his craving for dominance. He can’t resist taunting you, “What a good little wife you are going to make.” When you immediately glance up at his face, he can see the tears glistening in your eyes, but he also sees the flash of defiance that you cannot hide. Your continued resistance rankles him, causing him to grip your hair more tightly. “Look at you on your knees, my cock fucking your mouth, and you would still resist me. Ao issi ñuhon” he sneers.

His ire, combined with his sense of power over you, spurs him to increase his pace, with his thrusts getting sloppier and hitting the back of your throat. Soon the increased friction has him tilting his head back, letting out a guttural moan, while he gives one final thrust, holding himself in place as his seed spurts in your mouth.

Aemond waits for his breathing to be steady before pulling his softening cock from your mouth. "Swallow," he orders, still tugging slightly on your hair.

Glaring up at him, you hesitate, wanting to defy him by spitting out his seed, but a painful tug of your hair forces you to submit, swallowing and tasting the salty bitterness. He stuffs his cock back in his breeches, refastening them before offering his hands to help you to your feet, seeing you wince slightly from kneeling on the hard floor. You try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, pulling you back against him.

“This is a lesson. I have lain awake at night, desiring and yearning for you, with only my hand for relief. That unfulfilled ache in your cunt right now, that is what I have been feeling,” whispering harshly in your ear. “You can try to give yourself relief with your pretty little fingers, but it won’t be enough."

Releasing you, he turns, leaving your chambers as quietly as he entered.

You walk on wobbly legs to retrieve your wine, drinking it quickly while trying to steady your nerves. Leaning against the table for support, you notice your hand shaking as you hold the cup. You can feel the disheveled state of your hair; your gown is still pulled off one shoulder; and the streaks from tears on your face.

You can also feel the soaking wetness between your thighs and the unsatisfied lustful cravings of your body. With an incensed scream and cursing the day Aemond Targaryen was born, you hurl the cup at the floor, watching the glass shatter.

Taglist: @arcielee @persephonerinyes @valeskafics @boofy1998 @echos-muses @boundlessfantasy @randomdragonfires @artemisra @marthawrites @khaleesihel @snowprincesa1

#aemond targaryen #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond #dark!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond #hotd fanfic #prince aemond targaryen

92 notes · View notes

redahlia-writes · 2 years

Text

little prince. | oberyn martell x f!reader

part 2

Abstract: “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers.”

Words: 5K

Content (warnings): MINORS DNI, this is straight up smut, reader is described as having long hair, implied ellaria x reader at some point (gay rights), bantering, cursing, oberyn being oberyn, slightly sub/dom dynamic (sub!oberyn but he complains about it lovingly), face sitting, multiple orgasms, a couple of pet names, mentions of bruises, flirting. a lot, hints of power play, an attempt at dirty talk on my part, oberyn may or may not have a praise kink + a lot of descriptions, unedited

A/N: i have no justification for this. horniest thing i’ve ever written probably. shout-out to @luvpedropascal for supporting me during this mammoth's creation

also on AO3 - masterlist

The Red Viper looked at you as if he were an apex predator.

If the years in Dorne had taught you anything it was that Oberyn Martell liked to test everyone’s limits - you were not exempt from it, even in spite of your friendship with him. If anything, he seemed to be spurred on by it, knowing you would not restrain yourself to not offend the prince.

He liked it, toying with you, with your patience - and he knew that if you truly disliked it, he’d be reduced to shreds by the sharpness of your tongue, royalty and friendship forgotten. He’d seen you reduce lords to babbling messes with a single sentence.

Truth be told, he liked that kind of power. And it amused him, that layer of irreverence you reserved for most, if not all.

So he sat at the same desk as you in an empty library, leaning back in his chair while looking at you, his usual, all too familiar grin plastered on his face and his robe hanging open over his chest as always. Waiting.

And you knew you shouldn’t have taken the bait - but it was terribly difficult to focus on the book sitting in front of you when he’s just staring so openly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” you sighed at last, forcing your gaze up. His grin grew as he met it, shifting forward in his seat.

“No, I’m perfectly fine,” he mused, voice low and collected. “Is my presence too distracting, my Lady?” he asked then, cocking his head to the side. You smiled in mock politeness, smoothing your hand across the page.

“Trust me, your Highness, it takes more than that to disrupt my peace,” it was a lie - his mere presence was enough to make your focus waver, words blurring together like a bunch of nonsense.

He scoffed lightly as you returned your gaze onto the page, an attempt at bringing your focus back onto the story - it felt close to impossible, the prince’s eyes burning on your skin, the rustle of his robes as he shifted in his seat.

“You know,” he started again, and you let your eyes flutter shut for a moment with a long sigh, then tilting your chin up to look back up at him, an eyebrow arched, “it’s usually common courtesy to strike up conversation when you’re the only other person in the room.”

“This is a library - conversation is not part of the ambience,” you retorted, leaning with your elbows onto the desk as a faux pout appeared on your mouth - his eyes fell to your lips, just for a split second. “If you so desperately crave the sound of someone’s voice perhaps you could walk outside. I’m sure there are plenty of people awaiting just a modicum of attention from their prince.”

Oberyn leaned forward, an imitation of your stance with his elbows resting on the table and one hand supporting his chin.

“Am I to assume you do not include yourself with these people?” his voice held a note of mock offense, a lazy, sultry smile bending his lips.

“But I’m receiving plenty of attention, am I not?” you mimicked his grin, resting then a hand on your chest. “I wouldn’t want to be the one keeping you from your other loyal subjects, your Highness.”

“So thoughtful,” he mused, leaning a little closer. He reached over, hooked one finger underneath the lock of hair that curled over your shoulder and across your collarbone, knuckle brushing your skin as his gaze never faltered. Slowly, he brought the silky strand up to his nose, licking his lips before inhaling deeply. “So sweet,” he murmured, his voice still low.

You looked at him, breath caught in your throat as you watched him coiling your hair around his finger, gaze dropping from your face to your hands splayed across the book. Silence fell again in the room, interrupted only by the rushing of your heartbeat you were sure he could hear.

Time stretched as he lazily played with your hair, letting his gaze wander over you - it was not the first time he did so. Even in your first encounter, before he suggested you went to Dorne for the shelter and freedom you needed, he’d never held himself back - the only difference was that you’d learned not to fluster at his attention.

It drove him insane - how you just looked at him, concealing any reaction.

“Alright,” he hummed, letting go of you and getting up, slow, motions like those of a cat. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your reading any longer, my Lady,” he lingered, fingers trailing up your arm - in his wake, goosebumps rose, but you simply tilted your head to look up at him. He leaned in, carefully, the tip of his nose brushing yours for a split second as he searched your gaze. “You ought to know, I’m a patient man.”

“Are you?” you almost mocked, his breath caressing your face. “Is that how you plan to bed me, your Highness?” you teased, voice sweetened as you arched your eyebrows to soften your gaze. He wavered - for just a moment, lust darkening his eyes before he chuckled.

“No,” he spoke slowly, hand resting to the side of your neck, thumb reaching up underneath your chin, applying just a little pressure to tip your head back. “I want you to come willingly, my lady.”

You lingered there just a moment longer, lips parted, gaze unwavering until he let go of you.

“I’ll see you around, Oberyn.”

—

Later on, sitting in Ellaria’s room with her head in your lap, you could still feel your chest burning. She was laughing, asking whatever you did to Oberyn in the afternoon.

“What makes you believe I did anything?” you retorted in a grumble. Her eyes shimmered with amusement, shifting a little so that she could meet your gaze.

“You’re the only one who gains such reactions from him,” she chuckled, eyebrows arching. You scoffed while Ellaria’s hand rose to wrap around your wrist, drawing slow circles on your wrist. “He wants you, you know? I can tell,” she hummed then, biting her bottom lip.

With the way she held you, you knew she’d felt the fluttering of your pulse.

“He’s your lover,” you chided, brushing her curls absentmindedly with your free hand. Ellaria simply shrugged, letting her eyes roam across your face.

“So what? He’s had other lovers - I’ve had other lovers,” after a moment, she moved into a seated position, turning to look at you with amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “I’ve had you,” she added, voice lowered, “more than once.”

“You asked nicely,” you responded, sweetness seeping through your voice. “He’s pestering me - and he’s vexing, presumptuous -”

“You like him,” she interrupted you, and under her hand your heart jumped again. “You like it,” she teased, the laughter still roughening her voice.

“I’d like it more if someone taught him some manners,” you hummed, and couldn’t help mimicking her own grin as she let go of your wrist to pinch your chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding you closer.

“I thought you liked a challenge, sweet one,” she murmured, free hand inching up across your leg draped with the fabric of your dress as her smirk widened. “And it’s something I’d really like to see.”

—

You knew he’d be waiting before you even opened the door to your room.

“I used to come here often when you first arrived,” Oberyn spoke from your balcony before you could even close the door behind you. “Do you remember?”

“I remember you used to knock,” you responded, closing the door behind you and crossing the room to rest the vase of flowers you were holding after discarding the shoes by the door - you could feel his eyes on you as he leaned against the window frame, following your every movement.

“Ellaria was always here, too,” he continued, ignoring your remark and crossing his arms. “It bothered me to no end that I never seemed to get you alone.”

You laughed, quick and sharp, shaking your head as you fixed the flowers before turning to him. The sunset light shone on the side of his face, of his dark hair, reflecting in his dilated pupils. His robe was looser than usual, with no weapon on his side, and you let your gaze wander over his body.

“What happened to you being a patient man, your Highness?” you mocked, resting your hip against the desk, one hand placed on the wooden surface as you tilted your head. “To wanting me to come willingly?”

Oberyn stepped inside the room, his gaze never leaving you as he walked the short distance between you, stopping once at arm’s length.

“I have been patient,” he pointed out, eyes dropping to the neckline of your dress shamelessly. “Haven’t you been here for years now?”

“I thought you’d asked me to come to Dorne to help me,” you retorted, a hand reaching for your chest as if to feign upset. “Has this been your intention all along, prince Oberyn?”

“No, of course not,” despite the lightness of your tone, sincerity flickered in his gaze - reminding you why this was happening. Why you’d gone to Dorne. Why Oberyn’s closeness was welcomed. “But you’ve been toying with me, haven’t you?” he continued, diminishing the gap between the two of you. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged lightly, watching his eyes light up - ever so slowly he reached up, knuckles brushing across your jaw. “It is fun, watching you hanker.”

“I’m not,” he countered, and you couldn’t help grinning, his hand moving to cup your cheek - his palm was warm against your skin, and you reached up to take hold of his wrist, thumb stroking the heel of his hand.

“No?” you tilted your head just a little, leaning into his touch, eyebrows arching as you lowered your voice furthermore. “Then what are you doing in my room, little prince?”

The name had an effect on him straight away, breath itching in his throat as the tip of his tongue darted between his lips to wet them, hand twitching slightly while he reached through your hair - the gold ring on his thumb rested on your temple, its bite cold.

“I was just passing by,” he mumbled, voice hoarse as he almost fully closed the gap between the two of you, held back only by your hands resting on his lower abdomen. He glanced down to where your fingers curled slightly, crumpling the robe slightly.

“Thought of striking up conversation?” you offered, batting your eyelashes in a show of pretend meekness.

Oberyn knew you wouldn’t cave - that you’d stand there the whole night if needed, waiting for him to crumble under your gaze. And the thing was that he would. With your hands slowly riding up his chest, fingers barely brushing past the hem of his robe, he felt himself starting to unravel.

“No, not exactly,” he said instead, both hands now at each side of your face to bring you closer - not harsh, but demanding, crashing his mouth on yours.

You felt your knees buckle under the force of his kiss, grabbing his robe for stability as he parted his lips, tongue swiping across your bottom lip until you opened your mouth for him with a quiet moan.

The noise was enough to make him grin against you, one hand moving back to cup the nape of your neck, holding you to him as you backed him away from the desk, hand slowly moving up his exposed chest until you were grazing his throat with your nails, a delicate scratch that made him shudder.

He moved slightly back only when you were both breathless, hot pants rolling over your face as he placed his hands on your shoulders, taking hold of your dress to slide it down your arms and torso. He looked down as the fabric slipped down and rested against your hips, exposing your skin and chest to him, a choked back groan coming from his throat as he bowed his head.

Before he could latch his lips to your skin, you stopped him, the hand at his throat rising up to cup his chin, fingers gently pushing against his jaw.

“Nuh-uh,” you chastised, voice low and raspy as you squeezed his cheeks, his mouth hanging slightly open due to the pressure. “Undress yourself first.”

His pupils dilated, the clear order making his inside twist. Yet he remained still, eyes running from your face down to your half-naked body - he reached over to tug on the loose fabric hanging over your hips.

In response you gave another squeeze to his cheeks, a little harsher, pulling his face closer to yours as you moved forward - enough so that you could step your leg between his, the fabric of your dress rustling as you dragged your knee up his inner thigh - up to his growing bulge, applying a light pressure with your own thigh against it that had his eyes roll to the back of his head with another groan, barely held in check.

“Have I not made myself clear?” you whispered against his mouth, easing the hold on his face as his breath became slightly ragged, unfocused eyes searching for your own. “Undress yourself,” he let his hands drop from you, inhaling slowly as he reached for the know of his robe, meeting your gaze at last. You gave him a quick grin that he felt over his lips. “What is it, little prince? You don’t like being told what to do?”

Oberyn didn’t reply, tugging almost harshly at the knot of his robe until it came undone and he was able to slip it off, letting it fall absentmindedly to the floor. Standing bare-chested, he started kicking off his shoes as you moved back to let your gaze roam across his chiseled torso, head slightly tilted and hand moving down his throat.

“See something you like?” there was still a grin in his voice, your eyes flicking back up towards his.

You slowly let your hand travel down his chest, abdomen, fingers slipping just slightly past the waistband of his slacks, tugging him close again from there. A surprised moan escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help the small smile spreading across your face.

Oberyn’s eyes were shimmering as he leaned forward, almost tentatively, tongue darting between his lips to wet them once more before kissing you, open mouthed and deep, hands reaching to grab your hips right away. You let him stay there, his fingers kneading your sides as he stepped closer, pressing his body flush against yours.

He was warm and solid, muscles shifting at each of his movements, chest against chest as your own hands moved up across his body, shoulders, the back of his head until you were burying your fingers in his hair. When his hands moved underneath your dress, an attempt at pushing it down all the way, you tugged on his locks a little, breaking off the kiss with a groan from him.

“You’re still dressed,” you pointed out, chest heaving with the shortness of your breath. You relished in this feeling, the prince like clay in your hands, his eyes unfocused as he looked at you. “How impatient,” you chided with a mock pout.

“Ellaria never told me you were a vixen,” the laughter fell from your lips before you could stop it, your hands still buried in his hair as he went to push his slacks off. “There. Satisfied, my lady?” he was grinning, eyes still blazing as he watched you tilt your head to the side just slightly, looking down on him with a low hum.

“And what did Ellaria tell you, little prince?” dropping one hand from his head to his shoulder, you slowly traced the planes of his skin with the tip of your fingers as you stepped forward - so close he was forced to take a half step back, and then another, following your lead as you took your time exploring him, eyes back up to meet his gaze.

His cock, brushing your lower stomach, twitched at the name, a groan slipping past his lips as he hit the bed with the back of his legs. After a moment he sat down, legs spread to guide you between his thighs with his hands resting again on your hips, lightly teasing the gathered fabric of the dress.

“May I?” so unlike him, he asked, giving a light tug to the dress without having it shift. You bit your lip then, nodding as you traced the line of his jaw with your index, feeling it twitch in the wake of your touch as he pushed down your dress all the way, gaze lowered to your breasts, stomach, navel - still he did not touch you, palms ghosting your upper thighs as he shifted in his seat.

“You’re a fast learner,” with the praise, you swept your thumb across his bottom lip, slowly, from one corner to the other and back again, watching as his jaw fell slack again and he looked up at you through hooded eyes.

Oberyn wrapped his reddened lips around your finger, teeth barely grazing the pad as he sucked slowly on it, cheeks hollowing while his touch became firmer on your thighs, pushing in the flesh to guide you forward as he leaned back.

One hand placed on his shoulder for balance, you climbed on top of him, hovering his lap as he gazed up at you, lips parting when you pressed your thumb against his tongue. You felt the tip of his cock grazing your inner thigh as his hand rose slowly over your thighs.

He moved his head back, letting your finger slip from his mouth before leaning in, simultaneously spreading his hands over your back to push you closer, lips latching to your neck. With a quiet sigh and your eyes fluttering shut, you tilted your head back, granting him more space as he nibbled, bit and sucked on your skin.

When he was sure there would be a visible mark, he started trailing kisses down across your collarbones, sternum, chest, lingering for a moment to nip gently both breasts, gaining a low whimper for each, your breath quickening.

The prince was an attentive lover - kissing every inch of skin he managed to reach as he kept leaning back and back, bringing you forward until he was lying down and you were hovering his chest, hand resting over his on your thighs again.

“Want you up here, sweet one,” his voice was husky, holding an eager note as he tipped his chin slightly up, nudging you forward. With a sly grin you looked down at him, lowering yourself almost in a seated position on his chest as you cocked your head to the side. “Please,” he added, voice strained.

“See?” you hummed, shifting up until you were hovering his face, one hand coming down to brush his hair back as he turned his head a little to kiss your inner thigh. “You learn fast.”

With your knees at each side of his head, Oberyn’s arms came up to wrap around your thighs, hands slowly stroking the back of it as he kept kissing up your inner thigh, lifting his head a little to press one quick peck to your core.

You looked down at him, his eyes dark and shimmering as he pushed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, guiding you down onto his mouth, lips parted. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your folds then, the first taste of you having him groan - it went up straight through you, making your eyes flutter shut for a moment and head fall forward.

Tugging a little onto his hair, hand still buried deep between his locks, you returned your gaze to his face, rocking your hips slowly against his mouth, following the movements of his tongue as he lapped at you like a starved man, noises muffled by your skin.

You felt it build quickly, the coil in your stomach twisting and twisting each time the tip of his nose brushed your clit, or when he moved his head to regain his breath a few instants only to return his tongue in, over, drawing small circles, low groans that shot vibrations right up into your core and spurred you on, chasing your release.

Each of your whimpers had his grip on your legs tighten, the sound making his hips buck, shifting his position and you with him for a few instants. You felt him shudder beneath you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head again and a moan rippling from his throat.

It forced you to stillness, trembling against him as you came undone on his mouth, trembling thighs at the side of his head as he kept you down on him, eyes burning into yours even as your vision swayed. Only when you let go of his hair, body spasming and a weak cry leaving your mouth did he let go, helping you off of him.

“So sweet,” he muttered, tongue darting between his lips. “And those noises you make,” his voice was hoarse as he laid you down - his mouth glistened, lips full and red as he reached one hand to stroke your side, goosebumps following the wake of his touch up to your ribcage, breasts, your chest still heaving as you regained your breath. “Could make anyone come undone,” he added, almost a growl at the back of his throat.

Grinning, you moved your own hand down his chest, his stomach, looking down on him and his own release painting his amber skin. Oberyn didn’t seem to care, simply arching towards your touch as you gathered some on the tip of your fingers.

Just as he leaned in to kiss you, lips parted, you brought your hand up, meeting his gaze - he held it, a moment longer, then slowly lowered his head to wrap his lips around your fingers, never breaking eye contact as he sucked them off.

There was a low pop when you pulled your hand back, only to push yourself up and kiss the taste of both of you off his mouth, a low moan muffled between your lips before you pushed him on his back again, allowing yourself space to kiss down his neck, his chest.

Oberyn’s hand came to rest onto the back of your head, stroking your hair slowly as he looked down onto you shifting lower and lower, drawing lazy lines with your kisses across his chest, until you reached his stomach. A hiss left his lips as you trailed your tongue over his skin, licking him clean - his hips bucked up again, hand fisting into your hair, and as he tilted his head back he caught a glimpse of your half-hidden smirk.

He gasped when you nibbled his hip, one hand resting on his thighs for support while the other reached up to stroke his still half-hard length, fingers not fully wrapped around him in a too-delicate touch for him.

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, tugging your hair a little without hurting you - just to make you look up, abandoning the red mark blooming on his side.

“Why not?” you batted your eyelashes at him, still stroking him slowly, grip firmer but still not enough for him. “I thought you enjoyed it, little prince.”

The name made him twitch in your grasp, and with an almost frustrated groan he pulled your head back, pushing you down and rolling on top of you to pin you down, eyes darkening all over again. Still, you smiled up at him, gaze momentarily lowered to where his hips pressed against your hand.

He hovered over you, and met your gaze once you looked up at him, moving your legs at each side of him. He settled between your thighs, hips shifting lightly as you guided him towards your entrance - a low sigh left your lips when you dragged the tip of his cock across your folds, rubbing then the wetness across his length.

“Still teasing,” he warned softly, lowering himself so that his lips just barely brushed yours. “You’re right, I am impatient.”

“You haven’t told me what you want yet,” though breathlessly, there was a light mocking tone in your voice, smirk not falling from your lips as you trailed your free hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. “You’ve been so good, Oberyn. What do you want?” he shifted forward, and was forced to stillness as you locked your knees at his sides. “Words.”

Had anyone ever ordered him around like this before, he wondered? If so, had he ever enjoyed it like this? He looked into your eyes and felt himself lured in by the utter power you held over him, and by how much you thrived in it.

“I want to hear those pretty sounds again,” he hummed, moving his hips back a little, the friction of your hand still wrapped loosely around him making him choke back a moan. “Want to feel you fall apart around me, sweet one,” he added, leaving an oddly delicate kiss at the corner of your mouth as your lips bent in a wider smile, knees loosening around him.

“All you had to do was ask,” you whispered, thumb stroking his cheek as you moved your head to kiss him, arching up to meet him.

“Ask nicely?” he attempted to ask it mockingly, but as he shifted his hips forward, pushing inside you achingly slowly, his voice cracked.

You would have laughed if not for the air leaving your lungs, mouth falling open as he moved forward and forward and forward, stretching you out somewhere between painful and ecstatic. Your breath coming out in short, shattered bursts spurred him on until his hips were pressed flush against yours, forehead against forehead as you both attempted to regain your breath.

He waited an heartbeat longer, one hand moving underneath your thigh to keep you up as he met your lips again for a kiss as hungry as the first one, desperately capturing each little moan, whine and mewl as he shifted.

Pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, hips snapping against yours harshly, Oberyn's own breath grew ragged - the cry falling from your mouth scratched your throat, and you gripped the back of his head, guiding his lips down to your neck.

He’d asked to hear you, and you did not hold back. Each thrust a breath, a moan, a groan, chasing your release more than his own as he kissed down your chest, now littered with marks that burned with each of his sharp breaths.

You rolled your hips to meet him halfway, causing him to still for a moment with a string of curses against the skin of your neck as he twitched somewhere deep inside of you, the grip on your hips tightening - you could already feel the bruises forming on your skin, welcomed them.

He straightened up, the air hitting your skin causing you to shiver just slightly, watching through hooded eyes as he grabbed a pillow and pushed it underneath your lifted hips, slowly easing you down before pushing fully into you once more. The knew angle had you yelping, hand wrapping around his arm as you threw your head back.

“Fuck - so good,” the praise became a soft chant of his name as he picked up the pace again, deep and fast, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at each thrust. “Oh, fuck,” keening, you placed one hand on your lower belly.

You could feel him there, moving inside of you, and when he placed his own hand over yours, pushing down gently, the pressure became so overwhelming it made you clamp your legs at his sides, fluttering around him as your eyes fluttered shut, vision swaying.

“Go on, sweet one,” his breath ragged, voice low and hoarse, Oberyn leaned in just a little, hand pushing lower and thumb ghosting the apex of your core. “Let go.”

It wasn’t a command as much as a plea, his own rhythm faltering as he rubbed quick circles over your clit, effectively pushing you into your second orgasm, the wave of it so strong it made your thighs shaking violently at his sides as you quickly grabbed his wrist with a loud cry, halting the motions of his hand.

Oberyn kept up his movements, stuttering hips as he returned both hands on your hips, keeping you steady. As you felt yourself float away, you locked your legs around him, pushing him flush against you just as he toppled over, a loud moan ripping from his throat - he twitched inside of you, warmth causing another, gentler orgasm to make you shiver.

He fell on top of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your ruffled hair as you wrapped your arms around him too - for a while, the only sound in the room was that of your ragged breaths.

“You still with me, little prince?” you murmured, turning your head to press a ridiculously chaste kiss to his temple. He nodded, muttering something unintelligible, still hidden against you. Slowly, you reached up to run your hand through his hair, soft caresses that had him melt furthermore against you.

“All I had to do was ask?” he managed to say after a few moments of quiet, just trying to recover your breaths. You chuckled, the motion causing you to tense slightly still around him before reaching for his face blindly, guiding his head up with your fingers lazily wrapped around his jaw, thumb underneath his chin.

“Such a fast learner,” you hummed, pulling him down into a kiss, slow and intense.

“I do like being told what to do,” he whispered through soft breaths then, his hand lazily tracing the curve of your collarbones, up your neck and throat. “Only when it’s you, sweet one.”

#redahlia #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell fanfic #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell ff #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell fanfiction #the red viper #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #oberyn martell x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction

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acrossthewavesoftime · 3 months

Text

Tumblr Dashboard Simulator, the British of the American Revolutionary War

🌊my-peggys-husband

We have a man confin'd aboard the Preston, a common scrub by the name of Benjamin Hichborn, who was caught carrying the most extraordinary letter pertaining the private dealings of one Mr G. Washington, written to him by a Mr B. Harrison:

As you can see from an etching of the original as printed above, that man is a rascal and a scoundrel. For how is a man to be trusted to keep true to his country, if he cannot remain true to his wife? Mrs Admiral says that she should not suffer such a husband, and that any man of any worth & quality should reject him.

This is your time to join the True Protectors of Moralty and Order around these parts!

#may that man washington and his cursed boot lickers rot in hell #britain #pro britain #a pox upon the continentals #boston #local politics

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🎻the-saddest-violin

This may differ slightly from my usual missives about playing the violin and new musicians to be aware of (Haydn and Boccerini are to be highly recommended, especially the latter is as yet little known in these parts, though very innovative in his compositions), but I feel I can no longer withhold what troubles me, and have no other place to speak of it:

There is a lady whom I have fixed my affection upon, and cannot forget her; yet she is wed to a scoundrel, and has a son by him. We see each other daily, and until now I have held my tongue, but my soul can no longer endure this torment.

We share an acquaintance that is too long to be recounted here, and does not signify. What is of some import is that in recent times, I have observed her grown less reticent in her intercourse with me, joking, smiling, and conversing freely. Might it be true that she may keep me in the same regard as I do her?

I knew that I held her in high affection her when first I saw her, when she was stood in my parlour at Boston, fall'n on hard times and heavy with child. That very moment, she could have ask'd me to be the Joseph to her Mary, and I would gladly have accepted her, and her child, who is dear to me also, into my home.

For I am a shy b-tch, as I have before confessed to, I ask of you:

#poll #private #henry rambles on

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🦸‍♂️gentleman-johnny

It is with sadness that I have to announce that for the time being, I will have to take a step back from social media.

Do not fret, this blog will not be taken down, and you shall not be deprived of access to my plays on my website; yet a personal emergency, and a busy work schedule demand of me to retire from my online pursuits.

Pray not for me, pray for Charlotte.

#personal #psa

623 notes

🤰🏻fromthingsgoingbaddeleytoworse

I keep thinking of a song I heard play the other day, but cannot recall it entire, I know but the first few lines of it.

If one of you could do me the immense kindness to tell me its title, and perhaps some print-shop where it might be got, I would be much obliged.

It goes:

He never speaks his passions He never speaks his views Whereas other men speak volumes The man I love is mute In truth, I can't recall Being wooed with words at all Even now He plays the violin He tucks it right under his chin And he bows, oh he bows For he knows, yes he knows

#ask #music #song #ough #never has a song felt so true to my soul

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🎭meschianza-updates-official

UPDATE: Your Knights in Shining Armour REVEALED!

Dear Friends, estemm'd Citizens of Philadelphia, my brave Brothers-in-Arms!

It is an honour to unveil to you the participants of the Meschianza's jousting tournament! Our fourteen gallant heroes will take each other on in two teams, the Knights of the Blended Rose and the Knights of the Burning Mountain. ...Can you espy Yours Truly on the list?

Guests (particularly you, ladies!) are encouraged to select their champion and cheer him to victory!

Remember, the Meschianza, our grand farewell event for General Howe and an immersive masquerade experience, will take place on 2 June 1778. There will be many exciting activities, such as a regatta, a ball, our exclusive joust, and a fireworks display!

If you have any more questions regarding the dress code or the location's anti-American security measures, you can PM this blog, or my private arts and poetry blog, @johnandree-privee!

#meschanzia #philadelphia #masque #society #party of the year #apply for tickets while some are yet left!

780 notes

🐕howo

With these new devices call'd mobile phones, it has grown much easier to do a great many things; is any here who can recommend any app or device that should allow for me to know where my dog is when I cannot see him? It appears that he has got off again, and it would be very bad indeed were it to happen in battle, and he to fall into the enemy's hands. Suggestions are welcome!

#dogs #petcare

515 notes

📗thegreencoe-t

@johnaandree-privee tagged me to share some drawings, etchings &tc., which are representative of One's character:

Having viewed mine, and should youl like to share such a composition of images of your own, consider yourself tagg'd by me!

#tag game #aesthetic #dark academia

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💂diary-of-a-lady-hessian

Es sollte einer jeden Frau, so einen rechtschaffenen Mann hat, ein Betrübniß sein, wenn er unter so einem wie dem General Burgoyne dienet.

#hot takes #for my english speaking friends #generals clinton and philipps i respect #general burgoyne i do not

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♟️howey

youtube

@ben-franklin better luck next time!

#chess #politics #soft politics #diplomacy

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🔴patrioticheroesnevergetdeactivated--deactivated

To all the people who reported me and got my old account @awesome-arnold deactivated: you're mere pathetic haters. I did what I had to do, and you cannot fault me for it.

All the missives I received that were unsigned prove the cowardice of you people in the face of one who knows what it means to risk his life, and lose his health for his cause.

We will win this war, just you wait. My blog won't go anywhere, and the British Army won't either!!!

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#18th century #history humour #utter nonsense #dashboard simulator #unreality #samuel graves #mary baddeley #henry clinton #william howe #caroline howe #friederike charlotte von riedesel #benedict arnold #american revolution #american revolutionary war #amrev #john andre #john graves simcoe #Youtube

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deaths-presence · 3 months

Text

Two of a Kind || Dazai x Reader Part 2: Don't Look Back

Story Summary: The search for your brother has led you into conflict between the Armed Detective Agency of Yokohama and the Guild. Fitzgerald keeps you involuntarily, that is until you finally find your chance of escape. Will you find strength within the ADA, or will you only become more astray? Word Count: 1,622 Characters Featured: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Mitchell, small ADA assembly, small Port Mafia assembly Warnings: afab!reader, slowburn, plot heavy to build up romance, hints of Fitzgerald being Yikes and abusive, usual Port Mafia violence, lmk if I happened to miss anything please

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next day you discovered that the Guild had arrived in Yokohama. You were still waking up from a horrible slumber when Hawthorne came to escort you out of your room. You pushed through your fatigue to get dressed, your fingers dancing over the China blue tulle that was decorated in beautiful pink flower embroidery. The dress was comfortable and easy to put on, hugging the top half of your body perfectly while the rest flowed out without being too high maintenance to walk in. You hastily put your hair up in a ponytail after brushing it before meeting Hawthorne at your door.

You politely walked side-by-side with him after he closed the door behind you. The silence between the two of you was comfortable, but you could recognize the feeling that surrounded you. Something was going to happen today, and the thought alone made the anxiety swell in your chest. It didn’t seem like it was just to have a meeting with Fitzgerald either. No, not with the prospect of reaching Yokohama.

“We are to be leaving the Moby Dick and making headquarters on land,” Hawthorne spoke quietly as if reading your mind. His eyes did not move to look at you. Everything in his expression told you that there was a storm brewing on the horizon. You didn’t quite know what Fitzgerald’s plan was, but he was never simple and respectful with obstacles in his way.

“I am to understand that there is something Lord Francis wants in this city?” You grimaced, the name poison on your tongue.

“He went to negotiate with one of the local organizations yesterday,” Hawthorne replied.

“It did not go well. Not like his other business deals that money manages to fix.”

You swore you caught a flicker of a smirk on his face. If so, it disappeared as quickly as it was shown. On your way to presumably meet with Fitzgerald, you gradually ran into more Guild members that followed behind you and Hawthorne. Your eyes catch the mint ballgown from Lady Margaret, looking refined and proper as always; Lucy with her two thick braids of red hair that bounced with each turn of her head; Melville, who was a quiet old soul that you had only caught glimpses of since being with the Guild. Even Twain with his shirt barely covering his chest would be joining you today.

Your eyes caught sight of the door you had come to loathe throughout your forced stay. It was the door where Fitzgerald spent most of his time when he had to be behind a desk, but for you it was a reminder of the physical abuse; the items thrown at you and demands to change into the person they belonged to; the hands around your throat whenever you refused to push yourself further; the threats of finding your brother and capturing him in order to make you cooperate. Fitzgerald wasn’t afraid to show his true colors. His behavior was what had gotten him so far.

You weren’t aware of the way your body was involuntarily shaking until Lady Margaret made a haughty, discontented noise. You always felt so small in her presence, especially when she turned up her nose. “Heavens to Betsy, are you gonna do that the entire time we’re here?”

Many people would rise to the occasion and become snarky in response, but you knew how Margaret could be. She came across as arrogant whether you were a highly respected colleague or low on the totem pole in the Guild. You had to admire her diligence and the way she carried herself, an air of confidence constantly around her. If she ordered something to be done, it was completed with no questions asked. It is a personality trait you wish you had more of.

You took a deep breath before slowly exhaling, some of your shaking moderately disappearing by momentarily escaping your train of thought. You offered Margaret a small smile. “I apologize, Lady Margaret. I know it can be quite distracting.”

Your words soothed her apparent irritation, seeming to approve of your apology. You both entered once the door was opened by James, the rest of the Guild filing in behind you. All eyes were on their leader that had been waiting behind the door. Though you would’ve loved to keep your body from shaking, Fitzgerald’s eyes on you were enough to destroy the momentary walls of protection you gave yourself.

“Good, the remainder of you are here,” Fitzgerald started with his usual cocky smirk, threading his fingers together and leaning forward on his desk. “We need to begin groundwork in Yokohama. Seeing as this is hardly a good proposition for central headquarters, I will be sending a couple of you to prepare the Zelda to become the head of this operation.”

Hawthorne was correct before, then. You had no doubts about the religious man after how well he had treated you so far, but it allowed you to realize that Fitzgerald must have already made his decision of who he was sending if Hawthorne knew about it.

“Margaret and Nathaniel, I entrust the Zelda to you, along with our dear new friend.” Fitzgerald’s grin brought thoughts of jumping off the Moby Dick, but you didn’t linger on the thought long before he spoke again. “The rest of you will be divided on making moves on the Detective Agency and the Port Mafia. I already have John and Lovecraft down there as we speak.”

Not a word was said. Not even a nod of acknowledgement was seen. The sound of feet shuffling to follow orders was the only thing heard, and you soon found yourself standing between Hawthorne and Lady Margaret afterwards. You were to depart with them and the others before going your own way to fulfill Fitzgerald’s wishes. There was no need to pack anything, as your belongings would be brought to the Zelda. Half of you was screaming for joy that you would be kept elsewhere, but you knew that you would still be suffering surveillance. You had observed Hawthorne and Lady Margaret long enough to know you could not escape them if you wanted to.

Your chest was mixed with several emotions as you prepared for leaving the Moby Dick.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You didn’t expect to be involved in a fight so soon, but it just so happened that you and the other Guild members landed into a match between the Armed Detective Agency and the ruthless Port Mafia. The several eyes trained on you in shock made you want to squirm, but you only stood quietly. You noted the addition of Steinbeck and Lovecraft to your group now.

“Really? Fire!”

The woman in the pink kimono brought you out of your uncomfortable disposition, your body reacting before your brain as the gunfire reached you. The fountain behind you made your decision, activating your ability and taking on the appearance of a woman you had managed to touch in passing per Fitzgerald’s request. It didn’t take much focus since it had become a default one for you, and within seconds the men firing at you were wiped out by a wave of water that knocked them off their feet. The power of water manipulation was one of the strongest you had in your mental closet of appearance changes.

Your natural hair color was now replaced by dark, blue-toned hair that was almost black, and your eyes were now a striking ocean blue as they surveyed the rest of the area. The people who you considered colleagues despite the circumstances had already started making their own moves of attack. You continued your defensive tactic, even knocking some of the guns out of their hands before your eyes caught sight of brilliant colors that stunned you.

His eyes reminded you of watching the sunset back in the countryside where you came from, the long summer nights where the sky would turn yellow, orange, and purple before bringing forth a pitch-black sky littered with stars. You couldn’t help but stare at the boy, and despite him already sustaining injuries from before, he paused at your own hesitation. Neither of you dared move until Hawthorne broke your connection with his own ambush. You tried to hide the gasp that escaped from your lips as the boy with white choppy hair spat blood, the new injury rendering him to his knees.

The shock was enough for you to lose your shapeshifted appearance, returning to your normal one as you watched the boy collapse. You realized with dread that he wasn’t much younger than you, and you nearly knelt to help him before Hawthorne quickly stepped in your way. Those cold icy eyes of his pierced into you as they always did, but this time they felt like a warning.

“We have our own duties. Let us go.”

You were quiet before stiffly nodding in agreement, though as you started to walk away you looked back towards the boy that had given you a slice of mercy in exchange for his own life. You tore your eyes away to look at the rest of the scene. Your colleagues had swiftly left them bleeding and injured, your gaze hovering over the blonde your age with blood on his tan attire and glasses that were askew; then to the blonde who was lifeless and appeared even younger than the boy you had faced. Your stomach twisted and turned at the bodies.The Guild is not necessarily a nice organization. You do what you’re told, and that’s it. Take care to remember that if nothing else. Steinbeck’s words from yesterday rang through your head while you robotically followed Hawthorne and Lady Margaret to prepare for the Zelda.

#dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #dazai imagines #dazai x y/n

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