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gorejo · 5 months

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▸ RUDOLPH - GOJO SATORU. (forbes30!gojo au)

synopsis: you've heard your boyfriend scream three times in your life. once in a haunted mansion, another when he thought a certain gremlin was supposedly dead, and lastly... after a shower, down the stairs as he sulked practically naked with only a towel covering his hips — a total drama queen.

content: 3.5 k words, unedited. reader is satoru's girlfriend, she/her pronouns. a little snippet of Toji and his babies (Megumi and Tsumki), noncanon complaint. it's a little suggestive, but it should be okay to be deemed sfw ◡̈ can be read on its own, but this is part of the forbes30!au !!

kudos to you if you know which scene from a popular studio ghibli movie inspired me. because you can't convince me gojo isn't him ◡̈ header from @/ooreonii from twt

“AHHH ahhHHHH!”

There was no one else who could scream like that but him.

You heard it once or twice. No, it’s thrice — including today, in which Satoru’s done it twice already.

Once, it was at a haunted mansion during college with his hands all clammy, his body jolting with every jumpscare. And with a trembling voice, he would try to protect you from the actors.

The conclusion? Well, he ended up needing to be escorted out because he nearly knocked someone out with his fist screaming, accidentally breaking the majority of the set, including a cast member’s nose while at it, “get the fuck away, you gremlin!”

“It’s the heart that matters…” Suguru mumbled, shaking his head while standing beside you, both pitifully watching Satoru catch his breath under the shade, body slumped with his legs spread out while chugging some water.

Escorted is kindly speaking for what he did — kicked out is more exact.

The second time was when he thought Megumi was dead. The pure shock in his eyes when he found the little boy unmoving with arms flayed like a starfish in the middle of the living room, unresponsive to his teasing chimes when entering through the door.

“My little brats, look what I bought — what the fuck?!” Satoru’s body immediately retaliated, tripping on his way as he ran to the living room with one shoe barely on.

You can’t forget the shrill in his voice when he saw Megumi with red splattered all over his chest, the rise and fall of his agile body barely visible.

With his lips quivering, Satoru hurriedly dropped to his knees to check the boy’s responsiveness, only to almost faint — going from heaven and down because god decided to boot him back to earth — when Megumi suddenly woke up, with his hands mimicking a ghost,

“Boo!” The boy stated with the littlest of emotions, face paling with nonchalance.

“AHHH ahhHHHH!” your boyfriend screamed, falling back with his chest huffing for air and his cerulean eyes about to pop out of his sockets while his glasses landed crooked on his nose.

It was ketchup.

And off on the side, you could hear a little girl giggling while peeping at the scene from the small corner of the hall, trying to record it all on her phone cutely strapped around her neck.

“I’m going to tell your dad,” Satoru grunted while lying down, pulling the little boy on top of him while squishing his chubby cheeks, “I should just throw you in the dumpster and tell your dad you ran away, you brat.”

“Otou-san said you can’t,” Megumi muttered, sticking out his tongue, his small hands struggling to grasp around Satoru’s wrists with a furrow to his dark brows.

And running over from the corner, giggling while she plopped herself on top of her brother, Satoru released a deep grunt from the impact.

“Papa said he’ll kick your ass if you do, Satoru-kun!” Tsumiki giggled while showing him the front screen of her phone, flashing him a toothless smile.

“You did not just call your dad!” Satoru immediately grabbed it when he saw who it was, the utter annoyance of his face dispelling with each second he was on call.

“I hope my kids are well, Gojo-kun,” a deeper voice radiated from Tsumiki’s cell, one with more maturity and weight, “and will not be found in some dumpster when I come back, right?”

Satoru’s face sours and a frown immediately forms, “Hey! At least pay me — Ow!” he grunted while Tsumiki made her way down to attack her next victim – the locks of his white hair.

“As I was saying, at least pay me to clean up after these brats,” he slightly turned around to see the little girl playing with his hair, her nimble fingers painfully unaware of the strength they beheld when she tugged at his strands, “Tsumiki-chan ow! Be gentle with the hair please…” he pleaded before giving her father back his attention, “I’m not your company’s intern anymore!”

“You're already rich, don’t be so selfish with money Gojo-kun,” the man sarcastically nagged.

“Maybe we can cordially talk when you make it into the top ten of the list,” Toji further teased. Clearly, your boyfriend’s vexed expressions were the fuel for further aggravating him, “until then you’re always be my intern.”

“You fuck at least put —” you instantly close his mouth with your hand, giving him a quick glare to shut his mouth.

“Good afternoon Zenin-san,” you smiled unsure why the screen was so dimly lit, but your attention quickly gathered to your boyfriend trying to lick your palm.

Pulling away when you felt his warm tongue swirling around your palm, you glared down at Satoru cheekily smiling back with a wink.

"I like it when you put me in place."

“Satoru that’s gross —”

“Well, it’s actually 2 am here," Toji cleared his throat, "but I presume Satoru’s keeping things pg friendly,” the older man smirked, the edge of his scarred lip slightly tugging upward when he noticed your mortified expression — he’s topless, completely bare with his pectorals bulging, just showing right above his nipples.

“O-oh gosh, I’m sorry,” you tried looking elsewhere, distracting yourself by looking at the kids bothering Satoru. Surely, the man was far from being pg-friendly with his nips teasing to show.

“No need, it’s my fault, I picked up because Tsumiki called,” Toji grunted, reaching over to quickly pull a shirt over himself, “but I didn’t mean to scare you, darling.” Despite his large physique and sharp features, with his gaze piercing and cut-throating low voice, Toji was sweet, a good father to both his children — a reputable person overall. It radiated from the way he spoke, his aura, and how he disciplined his children. If he wasn’t, surely your boyfriend wouldn’t have kept in contact willingly with his mortal enemy. He would’ve never agreed to take care of his kids, despite Satoru adamantly arguing that he was thrown into it.

Peeved that your attention wasn’t on him but the obnoxious prick on the screen Satoru grumbled while rolling his eyes with a hand squishing both of Megumi’s cheeks, while the boy desperately tried to pull himself away, and the other holding onto his hair from being pulled out by Tsumiki.

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend, weirdo.”

“There’s a beautiful lady in front of me that’s very good with my kids.” Both his children nodded in agreement, with Megumi mumbling through his puckered lips, “and cooks better too, does everything better than you,” the little boy glared at Satoru’s appalled expression, stretching out his short arms trying to reciprocate his actions.

“Megumi-chan! You’re being rude,” Satoru pouted while he tried to dodge Megumi’s advances on trying to smother his face.

“So, can you blame me when she stole my attention? I’ll be a fool to let her go.” The man winked at you, a childish glim to his eyes, one similar to his children – especially his son.

And as by reflex, the moment he heard those words, Satoru carefully yet swiftly put Megumi down, and set him on his lap before grabbing the phone from you, “Nope, nuh uh, we ain’t doing this today. Imma bill you for the overseas phone charge.” And flipping the screen to his kids, “and kids say your final goodbyes to your dad.”

“Bye papa! See you tomorrow! Bring lots of gifts please!” Tsumiki giggled while waving goodbye with her brother.

“one minute late and these gremlins are in the dumpster,” Satoru grumbled at Toji despite Megumi securely sitting in his arms, and Tsumiki practically hanging off his shoulders.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow, alright? Listen well and be good,” contently smiling at his beloved children, and nodding a sign of gratitude towards you before smirking at your heated boyfriend, “and I’ll be expecting a coffee from you my Intern, no sugar with light — ”

The call has ended.

“Papa will get you for that…” Tsumiki giggled with her arms tightly around Satoru’s neck, her small feet bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Well, I can take him,” your boyfriend muttered before snatching both kids, tucking one in each arm, and carrying them off to their respective room, “wait for me here babe, gotta put these brats in the dumpster.”

“Remember to clean off the ketchup on Megumi’s shirt as well!” you called out, giggling when you heard the two bickering off in the distance.

“Ketchup?! Do you know how expensive this shirt is?”

“No, but it’s probably not expensive because you’re wearing it.”

“Why you little —”

And well, today, this happened to be the third time. Albeit, his voice wasn’t as high pitched during his freak episode at the horror house but still. It was almost on par — just a little deeper but a lot more dramatic.

Thump!

“ahHHH baaaaaaaabe!” His scream barely muffled despite coming from the second floor.

“What! What! Satoru!” you jolted from the couch, your eyes searching for him while adrenaline quickly struck through your body, “what happened!”

You heard him drawing closer. The thunderous thuds of his feet slapping against the floor and the painful thumps of his body hitting the wall become louder with each millisecond.

And as if on autopilot, your boyfriend ran down the steps with a white cotton towel loosely wrapped around his hips with his torso bare and arms deliciously flexed while clenching his damp white hair.

It was a miracle he didn’t trip down those stairs. But would’ve sure been a sight to see – for both your amusement and admiration.

“Babe!” he shrieked while fastidiously running over, “it’s hideous!” he yelled while making a complete stop in front of you with his chest heaving. You weren’t sure if his hip dimples and his inguinal crease were oddly accentuated more than usual because he was just half-naked… or because he looked hot half-naked. Though the shrill of his voice did make you reconsider your options.

“Look!” he screeched, his body shriveling up in panic while his lips formed an immediate pout when you couldn’t notice his dilemma.

“What is?!” you scanned his face, seeing nothing abnormal about it.

“Can’t you see?” he whined, his eyes desperate for you to notice, “look at this!” he pointed to a particular red spot right under his nose.

“It’s a pimple, Satoru,” you deadpanned, “what about it?”

“I know… I never had one in my life,” he groaned while dramatically falling onto the couch, uncaring if he wasn’t particularly wearing anything underneath.

Rolling your eyes, “Welcome to the mortal world, Satoru,” you murmured while slumping onto the couch with him, "you almost gave me a heart attack."

You tried to steady your breath, glancing over to check up on your over-dramatic boyfriend rocking himself while murmuring under his breath. With his toned back delicately carved in areas you didn’t even know muscle existed, you choked back a moan and mentally slapped yourself from trying to restrain yourself from feeling every crevice of his toned body.

“and you might want to close your legs a bit unless you want to go to jail for flashing any innocent eyes.”

“I give up,” he sobbed while crouching over with his hands fisting his hair, his towel barely wrapping around his pelvis, and the crack of his ass cheekily peaking through the edge.

Dramatically, through his breath, “I see no point in living if I can’t be beautiful.”

“Aren’t you being a little too much?” you chuckled while shaking your head, pushing yourself off the couch to sit on his firm lap, his arms immediately finding refuge around your waist.

“No,” he sulked, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, “now I’m repulsive.”

“It’s just a pimple, ‘Toru you still look pretty —” he further burrowed his face towards you, his warm breath just gliding against your skin, almost ticking you as he unknowingly moaned when you accidentally scooted closer to his body, just brushing against his minutely exposed manhood.

“No, you don’t understand,” he interjected, his voice slowly morphing into an exaggerated sob, “it’s not just a pimple, this pimple strips all my privileges and dignity of being your hot boyfriend.”

Satoru tended to exaggerate. The most recent being the time Suguru called you, a couple of weeks back, dramatically stating he was sick and in the hospital for an unknown disease. Only for that unknown disease to suddenly also be an uncurable one via text that oddly didn’t have Suguru’s usual texting style, with too many emoticons and expressions, but you dismissed it while frantically making your way to the hospital.

It was hard to define the emotions you felt when you heard from Shoko herself — appalled, flabbergasted, stunned?

No — none of the above. there were no words because your boyfriend always managed to leave you breathless — literally and figuratively.

“I’m sorry… h-he has…” pursing her lips as she clenched her fists, “I need attention or else I’ll die disease,” the doctor mouthed sorry right after.

And that’s fine if he did, the issue was that he tended to exaggerate, teasing against the boundaries of being a complete lunatic or passionate. A case you have yet to solve, but you wish it was the latter.

“You big baby, you’ll be fine,” you comforted while combing your fingers through his soft hair, the faint smell of his shampoo tickling your senses.

Massaging his scalp, knowing all will be well, even his dramatic ass will soon dissipate if you coddled him just the right way, “see,” you hummed while pointing to the blemishes on your face, “look, ‘Toru! I have some too!”

“But yours is different,” he didn’t even look up, “and you have four, pumpkin I counted this morning,” he mumbled.

“Okay, rude, I do not,” you pulled back your hand, his head immediately jolting over to look at you with a little frown.

“Stop that, put it back,” he grumbled, taking your hand and placing it back on his head, “you do.”

“Hey —”

“I kiss them every morning, and I’ll kiss a hundred more if you have them.” Kissing the back of his hand before groaning with his face nuzzled into your stomach. “But that’s beside the point, I look hideous.”

“Wow, sir,” cupping his face, his lips protruding out and cheeks squished in your small hands.

“Hey!” he retaliated at the audacity for you to pull away again, yet you felt his hand immediately find refuge on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re obsessed.” you giggled, pinching his cheeks, feeling a sense of familiar butterflies when you saw him slightly furrowed his brows as he let you play with him.

“Yea, so vhat? It’s muthing mew,” he grumbled, his words muffled as you squeezed his cheeks.

“Nothing,” you hummed, “let me kiss yours too then.”

Looking off the side, muttering under his breath as he tried to nonchalantly lean closer into you, "i think… that’ll make me feel better…”

Despite the craziness that he imposed and the rambunctious energy he dissipated off the clock, Satoru was easy to love.

“Muah!” You placed a kiss on his small blemish, “you’ll be my cute Rudolph till this goes away,” you teased.

“You’re the worst.”

“Who'll humble your high ego but me,” dramatically sighing before pushing back his bangs and placing a soft kiss on his forehead, “it’s a draining job, you know?”

“Stop teasing,” he pulled you into his body, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, “be nice to me because I'm suffering.”

“You’re still handsome,’Toru,” you cooed, feeling the whispers of his breath glide against your skin, his hair lightly tickling you.

“Yea? Tell me more.” Satoru’s lips gently peppered along your torso and up your neck, the heat of his body radiating over to yours making you feel hot with his tender touch as he ran his hand warmly down your back.

“Nope!” you smirked, pulling his gaze upward as you stared down at his glistening eyes, “one compliment a day, or else you become unmanageable with your pride.”

“wow, just tell me you hate me,” he grumbled.

“Gotta keep my princess humble, ya know?” you winked before landing a short, sweet kiss on his soft lips. “let’s go upstairs, ‘Toru” tapping his back.

But instead, you felt his arms tightening around you, ignoring your words as he further nuzzled himself into your chest. “C’me on loser, I’ll put some medicine on it for you,” you softly stated, gently pulling away to stand up while grasping his hand, using extra strength to tug his dead weight.

“Just watch, the little brat is going to say something, I just know…” he groaned while he followed you to the bathroom, his feet practically dragging behind you like a toddler.

—-

“Ten bucks he’s going to say something.” Satoru bargained, leaning against the kitchen counter while he took a sip of water.

“Just act normally, Satoru… there’s no way he’ll know, he’s only a child.” Your eyes were focused on putting a couple of bandages on his right hand, small cuts that he’d gotten from the morning trying to prepare breakfast.

“You truly undermine him, he’s not your average kid… he’s scary, babe.” Shuddering while clenching his eyes, “evil just like his dad.”

“Well I do think Toji-san is a gentleman, and Megumi will grow just like him.” you hummed while locking up the first aid kit, “and plus, you’re the one that agreed to babysitting them.”

“I didn’t agree, I was forced to,” he corrected, “the man threatened me if I didn’t.”

“I’m sure Toji-san didn't threaten you.”

“You don’t know him like I do, the man is the devil himself.”

“I mean… he was technically your boss since you decided to intern for him.”

“It was that or I was to get engaged to —“

The door opens. Satoru flinches when he hears two different steps come through the hall — one happily skipping, unthreatening, the other… silently treading closer in, each step mysterious like the stoicism on his face.

“We’re back!” The older one chirped, the bottom of her bag lightly tapping against her back while she ran over, her small feet softly rapping against the floor.

“Hey pumpkin,” you welcomed, dropping to your knees to level to her height, opening up your arms to offer her a hug and take her bag, “you hungry, kiddo?”

“Mhm,” Tsumiki giggled, flashing her eye smile, “also! I finished all my lunch too!”

“Aww you did?” Nuzzling your nose with hers while she gently cupped your face, “Satoru tried extra hard with it today,” you grinned.

“Satoru-kun made us late again.”

“Oh he did,” you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend awkwardly trying to avoid your gaze, “guess, he forgot to mention that to me today,” you responded looking back at him awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

“but I forgive him because everyone was jealous of my lunch today!” jumping on her toes, her face filled with excitement, “And he did my hair, look!”

“You little gremlin, that was supposed to be a secret.” Gojo huffed, hiding his bandaged hand behind his back, unable to hide the twitch of his lips, proud of the little girl’s compliment.

“Hello.” a toneless voice alerted his presence from behind you, raising his hand to say his greetings with the typical indifference to his face.

You can almost hear the sharp gulp Satoru took when Megumi entered — viscous and think, nervously pulled down his throat.

“Hello, Megumi-chan,” you warmly smiled, reaching over to take his bag.

“It’s okay, I got it,” the boy murmured, “it’s heavy and you have Tsumiki’s already.”

“What a gentleman,” you cooed while gently tapping his head, “go wash your hands, ‘Toru and I will prepare your snacks.”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbled while walking away, taking a quick glance at Satoru before heading over to the restroom.

Quickly standing up and quietly jogging over Satoru, you whispered while nudging him with your elbow, “See, I told you ‘Toru, he didn’t notice.”

“There’s something off…” his gaze warily staring at the back of Megumi’s head, “I swore I saw him —”

“Well, I think you’re just overreacting, he’s just a child —"

“guess Christmas came early.” the little boy muttered just before entering the bathroom, smirking as he pointed forward, making it abundantly clear who the recipient was of his comment.

“You’re silly, December just started, Gumi.” Tsumiki stated, confusion apparent in her tone at her brother's statement as she stepped onto the stool to reach the sink faucet.

No fucking way.

Megumi didn’t greet Satoru with his usual monotonous voice when he came home today. but instead chose to say his greetings in a rather more peculiar way, one with a higher pitch — the same one he had when he almost killed Satoru with his little prank months prior.

“Because look, Tsumiki, it’s Rudolph.”

author's comment: did you guess it?? it's howl from howl's moving castle! the specific scene with sophie mixed his potions while cleaning his bathroom and he has a mental breakdown? i saw an artist draw satoru as howl and I couldn't get it out of my head!!

#ae.writes #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #header by @/ooreonii

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lilbunnis · 6 months

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❛ ♡. header credit. ⎯⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲. ❜

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen has always wanted someone as his own; and with him already having claimed his vicious mount vhagar, the queen of dragons herself--- what is there to stop him from claiming you, too?

author’s note᛬ heey! 🍓 so……this is my second time posting this particular story--- however, it was a long time ago & someone anonymously requested to read it again. happily, i offered to repost it for them (with the exception that i re-edit it since my style of writing has changed / improved!) … anyways, reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated. ♡ + both aemond & reader are equally unhinged. <3 mwuah !

warnings᛬ mdni! smut, dubcon [kind of… but trust me, it’s wanted], dark!aemond, profanity, she/her pronouns, afab reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, coercion, manipulation, pussy whipped!aemond, breeding kink, cunnilingus, fingering, obsessive & possessive behavior, pet names, romance, fluff. any grammatical errors are my own--- in advance, i sincerely apologize.

word count᛬ 2.5k

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼, 𝐈’𝐃 𝐃𝐎 𝑨𝑵𝒀𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮.

aemond targaryen has always thought of her as his--- his to protect, his to care for, his to love; ever since he’d met her, he surrounded himself in her feminine presence, around her sweetness and innocence, keeping her close by and never letting her trail very far out of his sight.

unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d have one of his most trustworthy guards (loyal only to him) follow her around all day--- discreetly, of course.

however, during their short time apart, the one-eyed prince would be on constant edge; irritable and in a foul mood throughout the time that they were apart, not being able to trust anyone to truly protect his lady the way he knew he could.

oh, how he missed his dearly beloved so--- so much so, that the wayward prince was known for his brutal lashings and merciless beheadings (all a gift to his love) to all of those who merely breathed the wrong way in his proximity.

or simply, sweet gifts of pretty, sparkling sapphires and pearls.

still, he knew that she thought his temper and rage was charming, as she had once told him in that sweet, gentle little voice of hers, soothing his fiery temper as if she were the maiden reborn.

like his own little angel, so delicate, tender-hearted and mine, aemond thought.

sometimes, most of the time, aemond would just simply gaze at her, at her beauty, longingly; like she was the center of the universe and held all of the twinkling stars in the night sky.

most people wouldn’t dare to believe such a thing, but aemond thought it was cute when she learned something new in philosophy, excitedly wanting to share the new knowledge she’d learned from her septa with him--- even if he already knew, just to be able to listen to her sweet, angelic voice.

oh, and on those simple days, content to just listen to her babbling on about whichever subject she deemed of interest; he would lovingly hand feed her fresh strawberries, one by one; the ripest, juiciest and sweetest ones, listening as she breathily moaned in content as each one entered her pouty mouth.

meanwhile, as his little darling continued on about whichever subject interested her at the moment; the one-eyed prince watched in delight as the red juices dribbled down her chin, allowing him to quickly swoop in and kiss it delicately away, causing him to hum in content at the sweet taste.

whether it be from the strawberries themselves or the sweet taste of her skin, it mattered not to the prince--- because the next moment, he would drop to his knees and feast on her delicious, drooling cunt; burying himself right beneath her fluffy skirts as he heard her girlishly moan and whimper for him, as he continued enjoying the taste of her maidenhood.

on lazy days, the prince will sit with her in his lap, one of his strong, lean arms wrapped snugly around her waist, most protectively; meanwhile, his free hand would slip beneath her fluffy skirts and play with her virgin, soaking cunt, teasingly stroking his long, calloused fingers through her wet, puffy folds.

seven above, and the sounds of her soft, breathy little moans, almost luring him to bend her right over the wooden table in the back of the library and rut into her like some wild, depraved beast, claiming her maidenhead as his.

‘twas almost too much to bear for the prince, knowing she was already his in body, mind, heart and soul.

he always imagined what she must taste like that day, right before he would feast on her cunny, almost to tease himself--- like freshly baked sweet tarts, spoonfuls of honey, strawberries…

late at night, while in the privacy of his own chambers, he’d furiously fuck his fist to the thought of burying his face between her smooth thighs once again, wanting nothing more than to taste and fuck her cunt with his tongue greedily; before he’d come so fucking hard in his hand, his seed coating the skin of his taut abdomen and dripping down his fingers--- sticky and messy and entirely spent.

sighing heavily, aemond would barely resist the temptation to exit his chambers and go straight to hers, knowing she’d welcome him with an open heart and open legs.

…fuck, what a waste of his seed, he thinks, for he could’ve pumped her empty womb full of his seed; fuck load after load inside of her, and come by morning, she would already be carrying his son in her belly.

rightfully so; she’s be so beautiful, so fragile, so obedient, a perfect little wife she’d be for him, indeed.

meanwhile, back in the library, aemond would continue teasing her little cunny, occasionally dipping the very tips of his fingertips into her little virgin fuck-hole, feeling how fucking tight she was for him, causing him to harden almost painfully inside of his leather breeches, right below her squirming, little ass.

like his very own wanton, silk street whore.

she continued to moan and whimper repeatedly; making him gently shush her with delicate kisses across her neck, spreading her dripping arousal all around her swollen bud, hearing her mewl his name like a prayer and grip the polished library table forcibly, watching her blissed-out face until she came all over his fingers.

when he made her come so hard with just playing with her little bundle of nerves, he had to slap a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries of pleasure and whisper sweet praises into her ear, knowing how sensitive and needy she was in his arms, just after coming down from her peak and making her come so hard on his fingers.

of course, the more time he spent with her, the harder it was to resist her--- and so, most nights, when aemond could no longer resist being away from her; the need to see her being just too much for him to bear any longer, he’d eagerly seek her out, knowing she’d be in her chambers, awaiting his arrival.

just as eager and wanton as he was, it seemed.

smirking, aemond chuckled softly, embracing her; “my sweetest, my darling, my little love--- fuck, i have missed you.”

he couldn’t control himself anymore, he needed to see her, to be with her, to have her.

always.

specifically, in the late hours of the night, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible; fuck, he loved her so much, he didn’t ever want her to doubt his love for her--- he stripped them both of their evening clothes, his amethyst eye dilated and wild at the sight of her nude form.

during those private evenings, aemond had convinced her for him to claim her as his… fully, in the ways only a man could claim a woman.

with his persuasion, his silver tongue easily convinced her into saying yes; causing him to release a purr and claim her body multiple times that night, until she was a shaking, sobbing and sweaty mess beneath him, full of loads of his seed, while he held her tightly against him in his arms--- possessively.

uncaringly, the prince left all sorts of love marks all across her skin, kissing every inch of her soft, glistening skin that he could reach, suckling on her swollen, puffy nipples, knowing her plush breasts would soon grow heavy with milk for their many babes that’d come someday soon.

selfishly, just maybe; he could persuade his little darling for a taste for himself--- fucking hells, he couldn’t wait for her to grow round and fat with his sons!

insatiably, he would fuck his already hardening, leaking cock back inside of her sopping cunt, his and her own moans of pure love and ecstasy echoing off of the walls of her chambers.

however, even with all of the bliss and pleasure and love; still came her doubts and worries.

his sweet lady, his precious love, his only girl--- was utterly terrified of someone finding out about their affair.

however, the fearsome, bloodthirsty dragon prince would always reassure her; whispering sweet words of his love and devotion into her ears, calming her by kissing her love-marked skin before he would fuck her squelching cunt once again with his cock, ploughing into her mercilessly, filling her with another load of his seed, until tears would stream down her blushy cheeks.

unable to stop herself, she’d let out the most feminine moans for him, not being able to control her sweet mewls from escaping her kiss-swollen lips, sobbing out deliriously as he continuously fucked her ruthlessly, uncaring of who heard them; for the one-eyed prince was too addicted to the taste of her and the pretty, precious sounds she made just for him.

it wouldn’t matter anyway, if anyone were to find out about their love affair--- aemond genuinely honestly couldn’t give a fuck if someone were to tell her lord father that her maidenhead was claimed by him anyone.

if anyone would dare to question his lady’s virtue or purity, he would cut out their tongues, before mercilessly killing them and feed their mutilated corpse to his mighty beast, vhagar.

aemond had always been a possessive man, especially when it concerned his sweet little lady, to the point that most of the noble lords and ladies of the court started to take notice; however, the fearsome prince paid them little attention--- nowadays, his only concern in life was his darling little bride.

some days, when the weather was warm enough and the sun was shining brightly, aemond would take his lady on long walks around the red keep’s royal gardens, right after he finished his morning training session with ser criston.

as always, it was just the two of them, together; and while he watched her instead of admiring the pretty flowers that she seemed so smitten by, he couldn’t stop the tiny grin from spreading across his face at just the mere sight of her.

her, her, her.

his--- his lady, his woman, his wife.

there was a secret, hidden alcove surrounded by various cherry trees and gorgeous pink peonies, which aemond would often bring her to visit; it was almost as if it was their special spot.

then, without warning, aemond would gently press her back up against one of the trunks of the pretty, blossoming cherry trees, kissing her so sweetly, so passionately, so tenderly; it made her swoon and see constellations on the backs of her fluttering eyelids.

“marry me.”

suddenly, she felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and she felt rather faint--- for a moment, her heart felt as if it had skipped several beats, because surely… her sweet aemond did not just ask the impossible of her?

again, aemond spoke.

“marry me,” he murmured against her soft, perfumed skin (that smelled of the lavender oils they’d previously bathed in that morning together) trailing open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive neck, causing a breathy whimper to escape her pretty, pouty lips.

instantly, aemond’s ears had perked up to the sound of her breathing that was quickening, his large hands roaming and grasping at her sides as if to soothe her sudden panic, enjoying the feeling of her womanly curves against his big hands, even through the silk fabric of her pretty, sapphire colored dress.

“hmm…no,” she drawled lazily, though her sweet voice was teasing, “—my father is suspicious enough already about all of the rumors going on about us…he doesn't ask, of course; i’m afraid it’s because he is too frightened of you,” she giggled softly, batting her long eyelashes up at the handsome prince.

aemond smirked, amused by his little darling.

“besides,” she continued softly, her usual sweetened voice saddened and aemond watched as his lady’s heart was visibly breaking right before his own eye, “—my father… he will arrange a betrothal for me soon and i must do my duty, as is expected of me,” she whispered, while gently twirling a few strands of her lover’s long silvery hair around one of her fingers, her face sullen--- like a little girl having her favorite treat taken away from her.

aemond hummed; a soft, dangerous sound as his face remained stoic, not displaying a single emotion that he was currently feeling--- his natural-born eye on the other hand…was a raging storm of a dark, angry violet, screaming promises of fire and blood.

“that'll never happen,” aemond murmured softly, his voice a raspy baritone, completely unbothered, “—if your father even dares to try and take you away from me, he'll suffer a most painful death; i assure you, my sweet lady.”

her heart fluttered, both of her cheeks heating up and her head began to feel fuzzy, a dreamy expression forming on her pretty face; though she wasn’t sure if it was from the warm weather or by his loving, murderous words.

“you're so sweet,” she cooed dreamily, smiling up at him as she wrapped both of her arms around his neck loosely, her fingers gently brushing through more of his long silvery hair, feeling how silky-smooth the strands were--- curtsey of the queen, his darling mother; a sweet gift of scented oils she had gotten for her favorite son all the way from pentos.

“only for you, my beloved,” the prince promised, tenderly brushing his knuckles along one of her rosy cheeks, bending down towards her shorter height and capturing her rouge-stained lips in a sweet, deeply passionate kiss--- a deep, throaty sound of lust escaping from him.

ah, she tastes of the sweetest of innocence and strawberries.

his favorite.

‘twas as if the prince could never get enough of her taste, of her.

sweetly, she releases a little whine, high-pitched and so needy for him; the sweetness of a poisonous kiss--- oh, how he wants to love her forever and bathe in all of the glorious love she had to offer him.

gods, he loved her… only, only, only her.

“my angel, so soft and pure, so innocent; and your precious heart… it is mine,” he growled, deepening the kiss against her lips--- his large, warm and calloused hands began trailing down to cup her sweet, little ass through her skirts, bundling the silky, sapphire colored fabric in his greedy hands to fondle and squeeze the soft flesh of her asscheeks; pinching and clutching possessively.

grinning wolfishly, aemond trailed his open-mouthed kisses down her delicate neck, suckling freshly new love marks into her fading, bruised skin--- all across her neck, jawline, collarbones and the very tops of her soft, perky breasts.

“marry me,” he asked once again, sounding impatient, though he wouldn’t mind begging, if it only meant claiming her for himself.

she wrapped her arms around his neck more snugly, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him sweetly, all across his chin and the corners of his mouth, feeling his hands roam freely all over her once more before settling still, giving her backside a loving squeeze.

“be my wife,” he pleads once more, his tone of voice more desperate than ever before, sweet as sugar and the burning flesh of corpses.

she released a small sigh, moving closer just slightly so that she could brush her saliva-coated lips softly against his own, “yes,” she breathed lovingly, feeling as he visibly shuddered against her just from her mere acceptance of his begging proposal.

“i’ve always been yours.”

fin.

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targaryen-dynasty · 5 months

Text

AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, loss of virginity, p in v, handjob (fem and m receiving), size kink, breeding kink, westerosi bedding ceremony, forced marriage, mentions of underage marriage (but no consummation), fluff, female reader (appearance is not mentioned)

WORDS: 5.2 K

NOTES: The timeline is altered a bit. The events of episode 8 take place later, like sixtish years or so. @ivvypg and @sapphirehearteyes thank you for your glorious request. I hope you enjoy this. Thanks to @arcieleefor betaing this bad boy. This is dedicated to my beloved @black-dread. Thanks for all the amazing icons, gifsets and headers and for always having my back. ILU.

That one particular night at Driftmark haunted your every being ever since you and Silverwing flew home alongside Sunfyre, Tessarion, Dreamfyre and Vhagar the following morning.

King Viserys had ordered your betrothal to his suddenly mutilated second son so abruptly, stating it was the least both parties could do to make amends, that not even your mother nor the queen had a chance to intervene.

Everyone was aware of the large chasm between the members of House Targaryen, yet Viserys was blind to see that it could not be diminished anymore – especially not by the betrothal of you to your uncle.

Not more than a sennight had passed until Aemond and you cited your vows, and the sea green cloak of House Velaryon that was draped over your shoulders was replaced by the same black cloak your mother had once worn at her wedding to your late father. And besides your husband's side of the family, with your grandsire removing your cloak, no one else was present.

You had understood the threat of the situation like no other back then, and did not resent your mother’s absence, highly doubting that a raven even had left King’s Landing to inform your family on Dragonstone about the wedding being pushed forward.

Ravens of Dragonstone, however, frequented your chambers on a weekly basis.

Sometimes they were shoved into your hands as you were walking the hallways of Maegor’s Holdfast, and other times they were slid under the door to your martial chambers when Aemond was not present.

Cryptid messages, and more often than not paragraphs written in High Valyrian, adorned the scrolls handed over to you by maids and knights alike you knew were loyal to no other than the heir to the Iron Throne and her uncle-husband. Neatly kept away from whom it could be a thorn in the side.

The letters were your only solace in this lonely time – and did little to mend your homesickness.

Until Aemond had stumbled into your shared chambers one night, his silver curls tousled and the little braid at the back of his head loose. He ashamedly had admitted that Aegon had taken him to the Street of Silk to ensure he was as educated as his older brother was in the prospect of you having to consummate your wedding at some point, his voice breaking more and more with each word he said.

You had not understood the significance at first, but once it had settled, a lingering feeling of betrayal had spread throughout your bones. But there was no chance for it to linger any longer than a sennight, because that incident had seemed to bring your husband closer to you than he had been all the years you two spent together in the Red Keep. Two broken and lonely souls drawn to each other, searching for the comfort they had longed for for so long.

He sought out your presence more often than before, adamant to join you during your lessons and whenever you and your dragon ascended into the sky. Your presence during his training with the sword was greatly valued by him, something he had not bothered to acknowledge before.

You were hesitant to reciprocate his gestures and subtle affection at first, however, it overtook you in an ambush – and he was just as surprised as you were to learn that you were falling for him.

But regardless of how many hours you had spent together, how many kisses you had shared in secret, one mystery remained.

The black patch of leather concealing part of his chiseled features and what lay beneath.

Aemond rarely showed his vulnerability, even after being married for a few years already, and his missing eye was his biggest weakness. You did not push him, but regardless of how often you had told yourself you did not care about it, a part of you craved to see what was hidden, just as he craved your touch whenever you retired for bed.

Knowing your patience would bear fruit at some point, no matter how long it took, you just waited to finally be rewarded.

And there you stood now. Surrounded by a group of no less than five men.

Seven days of festivities and feasts lay behind you, tiring you to a certain degree. They were celebrating the night your husband was finally meant to claim your virtue, making your marriage fully legitimate.

And of course it was none other than your drunken uncle whose gruff voice had silenced the chatter of your guests, followed by a clap of his hands as if he had seen the servants bring another tankard full of the finest wine the capital had to offer.

“I believe ‘tis time for the bedding!”

It was not the thought of bedding Aemond, his promise of him not hurting you lingering in the back of your mind. It was the men crowding you, ready to tug and tear on the white gown queen Alicent had commissioned to be made for this occasion. For the official celebration of your wedding.

The bedding ceremony was a tradition particularly valued in other parts of the realm, however, with House Targaryen – or Hightower – in dire need of some more loyal allies, they had opted to follow along to those traditions. And, with Aemond being the ever dutiful son, he of course did as his grandsire and mother bid.

There was a loud cheer in the hall that quietened with Aemond eventually speaking. “Very well,” he said, a much smaller group of women surrounding him already. “But if any man offends my wife in word or deed, I shall have his head and feed him to Vhagar.”

No one dared to mess with the rider of the biggest dragon alive, had not before and most certainly not now. So it was that, when you were swept off of your feet, the men did not tug on your gown as hungrily as they had looked at you before.

You had no chance watching how Aemond was led to your martial chambers after you, the gaggle carrying you disappearing so quickly, as if they had to be somewhere else not long after. And once your bare feet were set on the cold ground, the men hurried around you to undo your dress, loosening the bodice and leaving you clad in nothing else than your smallclothes with the white dress pooling around your ankles.

The giggling of women grew in volume, catching your attention and forcing you to look past the group of men to the door, watching your husband enter. A sullen look overcame your features as you spotted Aemond with the buttons of his embroidered tunic opened, more so as your eyes flickered to the three undone laces in the front of his breeches. The women stopped outside of the door while he entered, and it seemed that his venture to the Street of Silk years ago had affected you more than you thought.

Aemond’s sharp eye, the purple striking even more with the patch of black leather next to it, cut through the group of men to find yours, moving slowly as he took you in. Where the chill air of your chambers had caused goosebumps to prickle on your skin before, they now were replaced by a feeling of liquid fire running through your veins.

There was a longing in you, suppressed by nervousness.

Ever since your first flowering, not long before you turned ten-and-four, there were little to no nights you found sleep without thoroughly exploring each other's bodies – but not once going far enough for him to take your maidenhead.

Aemond had told you that his mother had requested for you to preserve your maidenhood until the bedding ceremony, stating she would want you to avoid the death in childbirth the maesters at the citadel had recorded for very young mothers. Though you and him both knew she just did not like the thought of you losing your maidenhead and him possibly putting a child in you without the official ceremony of the second wedding, with more witnesses. You chose to follow her orders - to a certain degree at least.

He stalked towards you slowly, and there must have been something in the way his eye had darkened, because without another word, the men around you disappeared from your marital chambers, the doors falling shut behind Aemond. Coming closer, you were forced to tilt your head up to keep your eyes locked with his, his tall frame looming over yours. “They might listen at the door if they wish, but none will watch,” Aemond purred, voice cutting through the silence and sending a shiver down your spine.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other under the intensity of his gaze, you reached to pinch the thick, embroidered hem of his tunic with your fingers, rubbing it between them. When your eyes trailed from his down to your fingers, you briefly spotted his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, matching your own.

“Take-Take it off,” you stammered, barely hearing yourself with the feeling of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. As he did not move straight away, your wide eyes locked with his good one again, before he eventually pushed the tunic off his shoulders, joining your gown in a puddle on the floor.

You had seen him bare before, but this time was different. It felt more intimate, more vulnerable, given what was to be expected of the two of you.

Sparse, silver hairs adorned the expanse of his chest, and raking your fingers through them had never seemed so inviting. You could not admire the whispy trail that pursued from his navel down to disappear below the waistband of his breeches, because Aemond placed the tip of his finger under your chin to not only close your slightly opened mouth but to bring your focus back on him, forcing your head up for you to look at him.

“Are you enjoying the view, wife?” The term of endearment in combination with his demanding touch flushed your cheeks with desire, and caused your words to die on your tongue.

Glancing around the room to escape his heated gaze and regain your composure, you nodded your head, a sheepish smile on your lips. “I love you,” you whispered. And then, his lips captured yours with such ferocity, it enticed you with the promise of more and made you aware that he felt the same, even if he did not voice it.

Wandering hands grasped every part of your body they could reach, settling on your waist, while yours seized his shoulders for leverage, fingers dancing along the sides of his neck. You pressed your body against his, the heat emanating from him pleasant and comforting.

Your mouths hardly parted as his tongue dragged over your kiss-swollen lips just in time with you squeezing your thighs together, eliciting a shaky moan to slip past your lips. His fingers had started to undo the ties of your smallclothes, their movements stuttering at the sound. Aemond pinched the fabric between his fingers, stopping it from falling from your body just yet as his tongue persistently pushed past your lips again, claiming them with newfound vigor.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes shut just a moment longer before your half-lidded eyes met his, one shaky breath after the other fanning into the chill air. You tried to chase his lips, but when his hand came up to grab your chin, your smallclothes dropped to the ground. The reassuring squeeze of his other hand on your waist did little to stop you from shivering, the cold hitting your heated skin and the wetness between your legs.

You gasped as his hand came up to grope your breast, watching in awe as Aemond bowed forwards to wrap his lips around your nipple, nibbling and suckling on it. Shock widened your eyes, given that he had never done that before, yet you were desperate to keep his lips right there with your hands buried in the silver strands of his hair.

His fingers danced across the curve of your waist down to your arse, groping your flesh and holding you in place, if not even drawing you closer towards him than you already were. You writhed and panted in his grasp, keeping your eyes locked on his face as he licked over the curve of your breast, tongue swirling around your hardened bud.

“Stop teasing me,” you whimpered, inhaling sharply as a tug on Aemond’s silver tresses caused him to groan against your sweaty skin. Pulling back, he smirked up at you in a manner that gave away he felt flattered to have your undivided attention, the purple of his eye almost completely eclipsed by black.

Rising back to his full height, he mused, “I have only just begun.” Bringing his hand to your cheek, he nuzzled his nose along the side of your face, inhaling your scent. Your head tilted in the opposite direction to grant him even more access, allowing him to lick a flat stripe from the crook of your neck up to your ear.

“Why don’t you stop tempting me with those sweet sounds you make?” he breathed against the spot behind your ear before turning you around, your back flush against his chest. The protruding bulge in the front of his breeches pressed against your arse, alluring enough to push back against him. But with his hand trailing from your waist down between your legs, that urge was forced into the back of your mind.

You held onto his arm as two of his fingers parted your folds, dragging back and forth to generously coat them in your arousal. Tipping your head back against his shoulder, you turned it sideways slightly to nuzzle your nose against the side of his face. “My, my,” Aemond purred, “it seems as though someone is feeling frisky, mh?” You replied with a quiet whine that was elicited by his fingers circling around your little bud, prompting Aemond to scoff.

“I have not even had the chance to show your cunt enough attention, and you are this wet for me already.” Heat crept onto your cheeks at his words, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to stifle a moan.

Squeezing his arm to keep yourself grounded, you looked at him from over your shoulder with hooded eyes. “I can not help it, husband,” you whimpered, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers breached your tight cunt mid-sentence. “You–” taking in a deep breath, “you are just too tantalizing and make me want you so desperately… please.”

A hum rumbled in his chest at your words. “Patience,” he simply mused, continuing the ministrations of his fingers. The pleasure that soared through your body had you grinding your hips against his hand, chasing as much friction as possible. But before your peak could wash over you, his touch left your body, his arm pulled from your grasp to place the hand on your hip.

Your mouth opened and closed without any words leaving your lips, slowly processing what had happened, and when it opened again, he was quick to cut you off.

“On the bed.”

Moving too slow for his liking, he pushed you towards your marital bed, and you sat down at the edge of it, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

Aemond stood not too far away from you, giving you the perfect view of his flushed chest and the large bulge of his confined member in the front of his breeches. Your breath hitched in your throat as his nimble fingers started to undo the last laces of them. He ridded himself of the dark fabric, kicking it aside as it pooled around his ankles to walk towards you.

His member stood to full attention, a slight curve to it and the tip slightly flushed in the same color of his lips. It had you squeezing your thighs to suppress the aching between them that yearned to be soothed by him. By it.

Before he was able to touch your chest to push you flat on the bed, you gripped his wrist, staring up at him with determination flickering in your eyes. “Everything,” you said, trying to not let the slight tremble in your voice become too audible.

His one good eye widened in surprise, his brow raised. For several moments, Aemond remained silent, taking in your words and the request implicit in it. To you, it felt as if you had pushed your luck with him taking a tad too long, but the softening of his gaze betrayed the genuine interest he found in your proposal.

He was half tempted to do what you requested just to surprise you, to gawk at your expression at seeing what he had hidden beneath the leather all this time. Would it be worth taking the risk of scaring you for the rest of your lives?

There was a flush creeping onto his cheeks, you spotted it even in the dim light the candles granted, it was there. His stiff posture coaxed you to get back onto your feet, standing in front of him.

The proximity and the softness and reassurance of your gaze made it difficult for him to deny you, yet you knew you mayhaps had asked too much of him. “Issa sȳz,” you whispered, cupping his face. “Gaomā daor emagon naejot urnēptre nyke.” It is fine. You do not have to show me.

You were not sure what you were expecting of him, but certainly not his next words. “Jaelā naejot ūndegon ziry?” You want to see it?

Raising a brow, you pressed your lips into a thin line while the corners pulled into a slight smile. “Kesan daor henujagon, nyke kivio.” Aemond’s eye widened again, but this time with something indefinable flickering in it. I will not leave, I promise.

Reluctantly, his hand came up to cup yours, inching it closer towards the eyepatch. Your eyes flickered between them and his good one, the slight bow of his head giving you the reassurance you needed to continue. Carefully undoing the clasp at the back of his head, you removed the patch of leather.

With it slowly lowering, Aemond took in a deep breath and closed his eye as if he meant to brace himself for your impending rejection - yet it never came. There was silence, yes, but he could not hear any sounds of disgust or shock, and he was not sure if he liked that.

Opening his eye, Aemond was blessed by plain curiosity written all over your features. There was concern and interest alike etched into them as you inspected the glimmering sapphire, and suddenly it made sense why he had gifted you a necklace with the same gemstone the day you turned ten-and-four.

His mood seemed to thaw, and his lips twisted into a smile the moment he spotted one of your hands reaching for the delicate pendant hanging around your neck, rubbing it between your fingers and seemingly noticing that you had been linked to one another all those years.

Staring at him, not the precious gemstone in the socket of his eye, you captured his lips in a kiss that had him grunting once, his arms wrapping around your body. A haze of desire and want clouded your mind, as this kiss turned into all teeth and tongue.

Aemond slowly herded you against the bed, toppling over onto the mattress the moment your calves hit the edge and caused you to lose your balance.

The kiss, however, did not break. With your hands still on his jaw, he shifted onto his side, barely parting your mouths and allowing you to crawl further onto the bed while his lips chased yours hungrily.

Aemond moved to tower over you and ran his hand along the outside of your leg, traveling from your ankle up to the curve of your hip. As you tried to sit up, he squeezed your flesh harshly enough to have a giggle die on your tongue, and pulled you towards him, the force of it sending your head back into the pillows. You squealed in surprise and stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes, the desire in your veins reigniting.

Your lips parted into the perfect ‘o’-shape the moment Aemond’s finger slid in you, a sight that almost had him spilling his seed right then and there. “Gods,” you whimpered, your back arching against him as one of your hands grabbed his shoulder.

Spurred on by your sounds and the sight of you unraveling beneath him, he inserted another digit. The way your cunt squeezed his fingers so tightly did not make it easier for him to hold back, the thoughts of it being replaced by his cock sooner or later clouding his mind.

“That’s it,” Aemond purred, moving his fingers at a torturously slow pace, completely mesmerized as he watched your face contort in pleasure and your body react to his touch. But no amount of curiosity could fool you, knowing that he had not listened to you.

“You are teasing me again,” you whined, and with your impatience getting the worst of you, you hooked both legs around his waist, using them to pull yourself closer towards what your body desired. Now it was Aemond looking at you with parted lips, his breathing coming out ragged. When you reached for his hard cock, straining against his lower belly, you saw the bump in his throat bob and felt his member twitch in your hand.

The innocent in your eyes was gone, a sly smirk now draped across your lips. He raised a brow, but did not stop your hand from slowly dragging across it, tugging on him in the rhythm he had set.

“Give me what I desire,” you panted, rolling your hips against his hand to race for completion. “Please.”

It was evident that with your hand on his cock that he was not able to form one coherent thought, and much to your disliking, he used the hand that previously was between your legs to seize your wrist, pinning your hand to your belly.

“My love,” he rasped, raising his brows. “We have had many times to practice with our mouths and fingers, but this will be a new experience for you, and I want you to be thoroughly prepared for it.”

You nodded softly, understanding his concern, “we have waited for this night for so long. You have prepared me well, Aemond. Please, let me enjoy you… I am ready.”

All was lost when you pushed your soaked mound against his cock, trapping it in between your bodies. Aemond drew in a sharp breath, and not having had him inside of you before, you were surprised at how different it already felt merely pressing against your swollen lips. The moan you released was wanton, pleasure and surprise both filling your veins.

His grip on your wrist tightened at that, and his eyes darkened in a way you had not seen before. It sent a shiver down your spine, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Without a word, Aemond released your wrist and grabbed the base of his cock. Sitting back on his haunches, he lined his cock with your entrance but did not push inside. “Jaelā bisa?” he asked, a concerned edge to his voice that asked for your reassurance. You want this?

Hooded eyes gazed at him as you bowed your head slowly, your heavy breathing and hardened nipples showing just how much you wanted it. “Kessa.” Yes.

A shuddered breath escaped him as he thrusted into you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Even if he wanted to go faster, your cunt was choking him so tight, there was no chance for him to do so without spending himself. He pushed inside at an agonizingly slow pace, every ridge and vein of him dragged along your walls.

He had prepared you tonight, and he had prepared you all the nights before that, but it still felt entirely different to what you had expected, if not even painful. You winced, and on cue, your body went rigid.

Aemond gripped your hip with such force it was meant to bruise in the following days, not making your discomfort any easier. “Gods, shit, I–” he grunted, taking in a deep breath and stilling his movements. He had yet to bottom out completely, but your ease was his priority.

“‘Tis alright,” he cooed, running one hand along your side in a calming manner. His other grabbed yours and pinned it above your head with your fingers intertwined. Dipping his head down, his lips captured yours in a gentle kiss. It was languid, sensual even, and did not lack any passion.

You arched your back against him, melting into the warmth that radiated off his body and relaxing almost instantly. Aemond used the opportunity to gently push the rest of his manhood into you, giving you time to adjust to his size once he was sheathed inside.

You both released a deep breath at the same moment, fanning across each other’s kiss swollen lips. There was a burning inside of you, and you felt filled to the brim, yet it did not sting as badly as it had before.

“Gods be good,” he rasped, voice tinted with deep desire, “you were made for me. You were always meant to be mine.” Light kisses trailed along your jaw and the side of your neck, meaning he could not spot the color his words forced onto your cheeks.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you craned your neck and granted him more access, drowning in the calming feeling of his lips on your skin and the burning desire that pooled between your legs. “Feels s-so good,” you half-moaned, half-whimpered, and Aemond took that as his cue to move.

His eye searched your face for any sign of discomfort, as if there was the possibility of you only saying it to please him. When he found none, he began rutting his hips into yours. The pace was slow, just like it had been throughout the whole night, and despite it being unsaid, you both knew that was not what this night was about. It was about your unity, making peace with your past and embracing your future together.

Entangling your other hand in his silver strands, you gently tugged on them, tilting his head back to the point you were able to press your lips to his throat. Aemond groaned, and in response to his cock throbbing inside of you, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me… Tell me how I make you feel,” he stammered, breathlessly. His jaw was set, and the bump in his throat bobbed against your lips each time he swallowed his saliva. You mewled against his flushed skin, slightly sucking it between your lips only to release it a few seconds after.

Running your hand from the back of his head down his spine, it rested on his arse, gently squeezing his flesh. “So good,” you panted, pressing a chaste kiss to his throat. “... incredible.”

Aemond buried his face in the crook of your neck, driving himself into you with a little more determination and force. His body was rutting against your little bud in a way that had the familiar feeling of your peak settling in the pit of your belly, even tingling in the soles of your feet.

It must have been obvious to him how close you were with your walls trembling and the grip of your legs around his waist tightening; he squeezed your hand once, twice, before grunting against your skin, “peak for me. Can you do that, mh?”

Far too lost in the pleasure his presence granted you, you nodded your head, humming a ‘hmm’ as you wanted nothing more than to please him. And with your peak crashing over you, you did just that.

A row of wanton moans and whimpers slipped past your lips, growing in volume each time his cock dragged along that sensitive spot inside of you. With your convulsing walls, stars also started to cloud your vision, and it felt as if dragonfire was spreading throughout your body.

“Please,” you begged, digging your nails into the back of his hand and the flesh of his arse. Aemond hissed at the stinging pain, but his hips did not falter. “Let me give you an heir,” you whined, “put your son in me. Kostilus… please.” It sounded more desperate than intended, but had the desired effect.

“Seven hells, fuck, yes!” His body went rigid as his twitching cock spent itself deep inside of your quivering walls. Your cunt was choking him, squeezing him so tightly it had his thrusts faltering, coming to a halt despite him still spilling his seed.

Aemond collapsed on top of you, trying to control his breathing with his face pressed into your dampened hair. Your body was limp, and while a steady breath came quicker to you than him, you weren’t able to do much more than trace your fingers over his back in mindless patterns.

He pulled out of you as he rolled onto his side, fingers still intertwined with yours and no intention of letting go so soon. You watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

It was surprising you both when you reached out to ghost your index finger over the red scar that emerged below his eye, an expression of concern crawling onto your features with Aemond wincing slightly.

“Gaomagon daor mirre ruaragon hen nyke arlī,” you whispered, your eyes flickering from his lips up to meet his good one. Do not ever hide from me again. A chuckle came from him, juxtaposed by the nod of his head. “Avy jorrāelan, tolī.” I love you, too.

Pressing your lips into a thin line was a fruitless attempt to stop them from pulling into a wide grin, and you giggled softly, before your arm wrapped around his neck to pull yourself against him. Mounting him like your beloved Silverwing, you straddled his hips, his cock already half-hard again.

His member and the whispy hairs around it were glistening in the dim light similar to the sapphire in the socket of his eye, yet it was for a completely different reason. Your mixed juices leaked out of your cunt, coating him and claiming him just like he had claimed you as his before.

“I might be yours, but you are just as much mine,” you said.

Aemond smirked at you, before sitting up a little and cupping your face with both hands. His lips collided against yours, pulling you down and consuming you with a kiss that was less chaste than the ones you had shared before, swallowing you in passion.

Sleep hardly found you in the hours that followed, and if it did, it was only to be interrupted again by lingering kisses and touches, making up for the years you had gone without.

Taglist: @seabasscevans @dixie-elocin @thelittleswanao3@gemini-mama

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