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pinkmirth · 1 year

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⸻ 𝒢ℒ𝒰𝒯𝒯𝒪𝒩𝒪𝒰𝒮!

↶*ೃ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃𝒶𝓊ℊ𝒽𝓉𝓎 '𝓁𝒾𝓁 𝓃𝓎𝓂𝓅𝒽ℴ! ˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ༉‧₊˚. it takes reiner his all to keep up with his horny little vixen of a girlfriend.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮༉‧₊˚. (7.2k words of . . . ) reiner braun x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern college au, brat tamer!reiner, bratty!reader, feminine “girly-girl” reader, established relationship, themes of coercion, reader has a high libido, switch!reader, size kink, grinding, dry-humping, make-out session, f!masturbation, panty ripping, spanking (only once), finger-sucking, fingering, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, floor sex, mating press, reiner being a tiny bit aggressive (but affectionately!!!), soft dom!reiner, use of pet names (honey, love, baby, darling), explicit language, minors shoo!

ℐ𝒩𝒮𝒫𝒪 𝒯ℛ𝒜𝒞𝒦 — loveeeeeee song; rihanna, future

𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 . . . this is extremely self indulgent!!! all i want is for reiner to put me in my place and tell me what to do >< a girl can dream! ♡︎

It’s 12:06 AM. The clock ticks and Reiner sighs.

He incessantly shifts in his desk chair, being held in the confines of his quaint home office. Reiner glares at the laptop before him with great disinterest. The screen casts a dull lighting over his sharp features.

If there were anything capable of completing this damned project for him, he wouldn’t be so high-strung. He sucks in air through his teeth before letting out a weary exhale.

All it takes is the sudden clicking of a doorknob to tear him away from his thoughts.

He turns to be met with the sight of you emerging from your room, pedicured feet carrying you across the carpeted floors of your shared apartment. He pulls away from the MacBook’s screen, chair creaking under his weight as he swivels around to face you.

Reiner can’t help himself from hungrily examining your scanty attire— adorned in a smooth, silken nightdress. The soft pink gown you wear has the thinnest straps, and the most revealing design. It’s noticeably short, with the laced hem stopping precisely at your upper thigh, neckline dipping real low. Your supple skin and bouncy cleavage lay bare to your boyfriend’s piercing eyes.

A faint smell of sugar is detected in the air. Reiner indulges in the familiar saccharine scent of your favorite perfume as you approach him. You rotate his chair to completely face you, assertively dropping onto his lap. Amused, he allows your hands to rub along his broad shoulders. Lowering your lips to the shell of his ear, you whisper. “Hi, Rei.”

His strong arms envelop your waist as an instant reaction. Reiner can feel his tensive mood lessen under your sparing touch. The warmth of your presence filters into his senses as you lazily circle your arms around him.

Reiner makes sure to greet you with a soft peck, as always. He briefly licks his lips after. You taste of strawberry gloss. “My love,” He responds, words gentle and doting when he calls out to you. He puts on a small smile, but it’s all too easy to detect the gravelly detail of exhaustion in his deep voice.

“You tired, hm? My poor baby,” you softly murmur, hands running through his sandy blonde hair and tousling it between your fingers. He releases a content hum as your nails stroke his scalp. “I’m fine, ‘hon.” Reiner insists, “I just… wish I could take my mind off this.”

You peer down at him through wispy lashes. “Do you need a distraction?” arousal produces a sweet drawl in your words. Your lips curl up to form the sultriest of smiles. He can read your indecent intentions with little effort.

Your touch runs down his body, ruffling over the olive green sweatshirt he has on. It’s a shame, how the fabric conceals his sculpted muscles. Your hand trails along his deliciously firm biceps while the other settles on his broad chest. He finds comfort in the way your filed nails repetitively graze against his collarbone.

How cunning you are, trying to coax and flatter him into bed! Especially when you know just how hard it is for him to refuse you. Reiner searches for a suitable answer. Admittedly, he'd much rather allow you to whisk him away, despite his responsibilities that condemn the thought.

“Don’t tell me you’re preoccupied…” You make a glossy pout, since it always works in breaking him. Though, he seems to have worn a thicker armor of refrain tonight. One that isn’t as flexible to your vixenish schemes and bratty tendencies.

“You know I am, love.” Reiner sighs. He wants more than anything to please you. It’s all he ever does and the only thing he yearns to do. But there comes a time where he has to put his foot down.

“I’m busy,” he emphasizes. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself instead of you. Sure, he’s occupied, but that shouldn’t matter. He can tell that you need him, can’t he? Badly, too. Your boyfriend should know that resisting you is futile.

You deftly roll your eyes before he brings his palm to warmly cup your soft cheek. “You get that, right honey?” He wants you to look him in the face and understand the words coming out of his mouth. No use in that— You’re probably only thinking of all the ways he could be using it to eat you out.

“Reiner, baby… c’mon.” You shift your weight onto his lap, slow-grinding with the most subtle rock of your hips. He knows you to be unpredictable, and he’s fond of it; you keep him on his toes. But this? It’s sly and abrupt, enough to make his breath catch in his throat. His low grunt spills into your ear as he instinctively bucks upward.

Reiner should be used to your teasing by now, especially considering that he’s been your boyfriend of well-over two years. Yet, the apples of his cheeks bloom a faint red as if the way you move atop his body is a foreign feeling. You giggle when he averts his hazel eyes and looks fixedly elsewhere.

Again, you roll in slow circles to friction against him, and he unsteadily whimpers your name. “You’re so hard,” you tease him with a dulcet laugh. Reiner furrows his thin brows, flustered. He can feel his blood rushedly streaming south.

“I make you that excited?” Look at you, asking as if you don’t know the answer. Reiner wants to scoff. You know good and well of the dire effect you have on your man.

He gives in, just for a moment, to grasp at your waist with newfound fervor, holding you down and guiding your body with sturdy hands. He directs the way your hips gyrate, dragging you over his erection. Your breath hitches, clinging at his broad shoulders.

“Fuck. You know what you do to me,” He breathes out, slightly tossing his head back onto the headrest. You take the opportunity to close in on his exposed neck. He smells rich and earthy, like that of sandalwood. Reiner basks in the eagerness of your messy kisses, gloss and saliva lingering on the column of his throat.

“Come to the room, Reiner.” You murmur against his jugular, nipping until the taste of his skin settles upon the tip of your tongue. The seat creaks when the both of you shift and adjust yourselves, grinding into each other with bated breath. You lift your head to stare into his darkened gaze, making another effort to persuade him. “I know you want to.”

Boldly tilting forward, you initiate a daring kiss. Your lips sweetly move against Reiner’s, but there’s an unabashed fire upon your tongue as it darts into his mouth. You openly moan against his lips, and the enticing sound of your voice gets him harder. Reiner digs his fingers into your waist, eyes screwed shut. Groans tumble deep from his throat in the form of lowly ‘oh’s, and the bristly facial hair on his jaw prickles your skin.

Reiner only now begins to register how your breasts squish against him, nipples rigid from under your nightgown and brushing at his chest. The warm press of your cunt rests atop his growing hard-on. He’d try to maintain the grain of resolve he has left, but with his cock prodding at your underside, it’s evident that he’s too far gone. You can feel him twitching beneath the soft cotton of your thin panties.

“I— shit, want you so bad…” his words tremble. See what you’ve done! Now he’s all wired up. You can tell by the way he holds your sides with an edgy grip. He pulls you in tighter, wants you immeasurably closer. Reiner can feel your heartbeat vigorously pumping in tandem with his.

“Then fuck me.” you spur him on, dipping your head to connect with him once more. Tensions inflame between you as the kiss builds. Reiner tries to still the fleeting jerk of his hips, using everything in his power to resist your sugary lips and break away. He opens his mouth to respond, only to make a hesitant pause. Whatever he’s about to say, you know he doesn’t fucking mean it. The way his boner’s nudging at the plush of your ass says otherwise.

“Can’t, baby.” He finalizes. You huff, grabbing his sleeves and tugging at the cloth. “You don’t want to?” Your lips look plump and sore, prettily bruised from obscene kisses.

“I never said that…” He lowly whines against your lips, dropping his head to rest along the junction of your neck. Of course he wants to. He’d much rather make you cum like it’s all he’s good for instead of wasting another moment at this damned desk.

He then recalls the countless times he’s supplied your every desire without question. It brings him to realize that he truly has spoiled you, his sweet girl, nastily rotten. Though Reiner loves to provide for you in any way he can, he chooses to exercise discipline today. He thinks this’ll teach you some sort of lesson concerning patience and self-control. As if. Realistically, he’s merely punishing himself by desisting pleasure.

You give him another fluid roll of your hips, but he stills you with an iron grip. His resolve’s firmer than it was mere minutes ago. “Hey.” Reiner shoots you a pleading look, but you know that it’s more of a warning. His soft dominance comes in the form of a heavy quiet, one which shows itself every so often. Particularly when you go out of your way to tip him over the brink.

He’s made it clear that he won’t budge. You make an attempt to distance yourself, retracting your arms from around his neck to cross them over your chest, boobs pushing up with the motion. He pulls you back into his chest, to which you respond with a vexed ‘hmph’, subtly scrunching your face. Just how much could you possibly turn him on in one sitting alone? You’ll be the end of him, he’s sure of it.

Reiner softens his expression, rubbing at your sides. “Hey— look at me.” reluctantly, your eyes meet his. He just can’t seem to tug away from your heavy-lidded gaze. “Tell you what, darlin’,” he announces, offering you a compromise. “Once I finish this up, I’m yours for the rest of the night. M’kay?”

You don’t like the terms of his little deal. It’s selfish, and you know it is, but you want him now.

“Hm.” With a hum, you tap your fingers along his shoulder, barely agreeing. “No harm in waiting, yeah?”

To that, you exaggeratedly sigh. ‘You’ll be fine, you big baby.’ Reiner thinks.

You eventually release him, pressing a kiss to his scruffy jaw. He’s quick to return it, skimming his lips across yours in a chaste peck. He can feel your sensual grin spread against his mouth before you break away, like you’ve got a naughty little plan that he's yet to know about.

You descend off his lap, peering at his obvious boner with a silent giggle. Is he even sure he’d be able to wait a moment longer before sleeping with you? ‘Cause it looks like his pants have become much too tight. You’ve truly made a mess out of him.

Before stepping back to the room you appeared from, you send him a look with those alluring eyes of yours. There’s a glint of mischief; something tantalizing that lies within your irises.

“Don’t worry, Rei.” You call out to him in your pretty, tempting voice. With lithe fingers, you lift the ends of your short sleeping dress to reveal the tiny panties that lie beneath, giving him just a snippet of what he’d be missing.

Reiner’s glance catches onto the lips of your pussy, hidden behind cloth. He bets it’s fucking soaked. Just as he thought, there’s a puddle of slick wetting the cotton material. His need for you begins to show itself all over again. You can see it in the way his Adam's apple bobs.

All you do is smile at his reaction. “I’ll just help myself.”

It's been a good chunk of time, about fifteen minutes since you disappeared into your room. You most certainly meant what you said about ‘helping yourself’…

“Oh—!” Moans spill into the corridor. And fuck, is it loud. You didn’t close the door to your room, and for good reason. You want him to catch wind of every little thing you’re doing without him.

Reiner tries to keep his focus aimed at the computer screen, but he just can’t. Especially not under such conditions. He’s already sporting a raging hard-on, which he meekly brings a hand down to rub out every now and again. That isn’t even the biggest problem— there’s you, located a few doors down, intentionally making as much noise as you can.

Reiner prods his tongue at his inner cheek. He knows exactly what’s going on. If you can’t have his attention, then that stupid fucking project of his wouldn’t be getting it either.

“Mm, fuck!” Another cry of ecstasy reaches his ears, and his blush-tinged cheeks continue to burn even further. The harsh squelch emitting from the room tells him all he wants to know; you're plunging your fingers into your wet little pussy as deep as you can get it to go, but it’ll never be able to stretch you out as well as his thick digits.

‘That fucking wet, huh?’ Reiner muses. His desire to be there with you is stronger than his will to breathe. The throb of his cock feels like it’s pounding heavier than the beat of his very own heart.

Funnily enough, he thought that you’d hardly be able to carry on without him there; now you’re the one enjoying yourself while he suffers in horny solitude. In all honesty, Reiner’s just barely holding out, and his resolve has thinned down to the mere size of a thread. He hadn’t considered the fact that you’re his weakness.

Nine times out of ten, Reiner’s a man of his word. He sticks to what he says and hardly ever diverts from it. But at this moment, you’re giving him no choice. The only options you’ve proposed are for him to comply, or endure torture. It truly is complete and utter torture, to hear you getting yourself off when he could’ve been the one stripping you down and making you scream.

He wants to give himself a slap in the face for denying you— if not for him, you probably would’ve been cumming on his face right now, or bouncing on his cock in the way that he liked. Hell, he might’ve even gone about punishing you for teasing him on this very chair.

Maybe he should’ve just come to the fucking room.

“Makin’ a scene, huh?” Reiner mumbles, palming his clothed dick. “Well, it worked.”

Your voice continues to ring aloud in the atmosphere. He’s physically incapable of ignoring the problem that lies beneath his pants. To be specific, the problem that you created, and he’s sure you’ll be eager to help him fix it.

Reiner peers at the time before pushing his laptop closed and neglecting his assignment. It’s 12:49 AM when he finally decides to give in to you. He rises from his seat to follow the luring string of moans.

He’s near. You can hear it, feel it. Every dull footstep means he’s closing in, aching to fuck you. Reiner’s giving up early on, and it’s much quicker than you thought he would. But you certainly don’t mind. You swipe your clit and tremble with anticipation, awaiting his presence.

You lie on your back, splayed across cream white bamboo sheets of the king-sized bed that you and him share. You wait not-so-patiently for him to enter and be met with the sight of your manicured fingers toying around inside your pussy.

It didn’t take long for you to get what you wanted. Reiner comes strolling in, leaning his bulky frame against the doorway. His chest heaves slowly. There’s yearning behind every deep breath he takes. He’s hot and bothered; it shows with the blooming pink tint of arousal that’s spread across his cheekbones and nose bridge.

You’re all on display, from the roundness of your breasts beneath your skimpy nightgown as your chest rises and falls, to the clenching wetness of your cunt, panties pulled aside for access. There’s not a thing left to his dirty imagination.

Your eyes trail down to meet the suggestive bulge that strains against his baggy gray sweats. It’s definitely grown since before. Reiner looks borderline feral, ready to pounce and eat you alive. But he plainly stands, drinking in the view of your sightly body with glowering eyes. You wonder when he’ll finally jump in for a taste.

“Aw,” You breathily coo at him, sitting up on your elbows. He watches your tits sway with the motion. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” your light and mocking tone makes his dick twitch.

“Looks like you’re havin’ fun…” Reiner mutters. It’s almost cute, how wound up he is. “Would be better if you joined in.” you suggest. “Are you gonna help me out while you’re here? Or did you only come to watch?” Still running your mouth, huh... You really do know how to push him to the edge.

“C’mere.” Reiner beckons you towards him with the gesturing movement of his finger. His voice is low and domineering, it makes you want to listen. So you do, lifting yourself off the bed and doing just as he wishes.

It seems that Reiner’s forgotten of all his good-boy behavior, and his sense of responsibility’s flown out the window. He’s quick to smash his mouth to yours, resuming the fervid kiss from before. He cradles the back of your head and pushes you deeper into the warmth of his lips. Bringing his unoccupied arm to loop around your waist, he tugs you in.

You melt into his large and imposing frame, grabbing at his shirt within your fisted hands. “Reiner,” you separate from his enthusiasm, needing a gulp of air. Thin slivers of spit connect him to your sheen lips.

“Heard you tryin’ to fuck yourself while I was gone,” Reiner whispers, hands snaking down to your butt. He shamelessly grabs your doughy ass in his rough hands, kneading the fatty flesh before giving it a nice, hard spank. You moan upon contact. He’s entirely sure you throbbed over that.

“It wasn't enough, was it baby?” He shakes his head and you mindlessly mimic him, doing the same. “I’m here now. ‘Lemme satisfy you,” he plants a brief kiss at the surface of your neck before laying you down upon the wooly surface of the floor’s rug, kneeling to slot himself between your legs.

He brings his hand to your face, thumb resting at your plush bottom lip. You instantly know what to do, encasing his fingers into your mouth. “Bein’ such a good girl,” he praises, pushing down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers. You lick at his digits with a soft moan, lapping them in saliva as you grip onto his wrist.

His middle and forefinger leaves your mouth with a wet pop. Reiner’s hands find their place at your sides, caressing the curvature of your hips. He hooks his pointer finger into your panties, pulling them further aside; just before he determines that you won't be needing them. And with that, Reiner’s abruptly tearing them off, ripping the cloth with the ease of one effortless tug. The fabric feathers apart against your skin.

You can’t help but laugh in total shock, the ruined cloth tickling your hips. “Reiner!” All he does is a shrug, slipping the remains of your panties out from under your ass and tossing them elsewhere. “They were gettin’ in the way.” he clarifies. The pads of his fingers can now properly trace your slick pussy lips, and he drags his touch just above your engorged clit.

You mewl when he strokes the nub in tight circles, jerking underneath his touch. Reiner can tell that you’re especially sensitive. With raised brows, he asks, “You already came?” He's given your immediate nod in reply. Reiner brings a hand to his heart, feigning offense. “Without me, baby?”

“Why’re you surprised? Told you I’d handle myself,” you say all matter-of-factly, gazing up at him from where you lay. He dryly chuckles, almost taken aback. “And I told you that I would be here soon, didn’t I?” he queries. You suppress a shudder whenever he makes contact with your over-stimmed bud.

Patience is a virtue that you haven't yet learned. Reiner would normally take it slow and savor your taste, but all he has in mind is to teach you a valuable lesson– when he tells you to wait for him, you wait.

Or, you just can deal with the outcome of defying him. That seems all the more fitting for a minx like you.

“Guess that means you’re gonna have to come again,” He decides, “Give me another.” To that, you whine. “But Rei! I already stretched myself out for you!”

“With your fingers?” you nod when he asks you. “Hm. Not enough.” aiming to convince him otherwise, you spread your legs wider apart and reveal your gaping hole to his sharp stare.

You drip with glassy cum, and he wants nothing more than to dive in face first, completely ravage all of your beautiful being, and eat away at that attitude of yours until you forget your own fucking name. Somehow, he finds a way to ground himself and stay on course. You can see it's a struggle for him to do so. He’d already be whipping his dick out if he wasn't trying to discipline you.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna take what I give you. Right, baby?” he hums in question, rolling his lengthy sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes trail along the expanse of his thick forearms. Taking your nod as a green light, Reiner delves three large fingers into you and sets a dangerous pace. His starting thrusts are fast and fluid. “Fuck, Reiner!” you cry out, clawing at his wrist.

“Uh-uh,” He tuts, bringing his hand up to your face to playfully squeeze your cheeks. Your lips jut out cutely, and he grins. “I ain't stopping until you come.” He makes himself clear. “Understand?”

“Mhm– u-understood.” you shakily comply, voice muffled. He releases your face, momentarily dipping low to peck your lips. “Good. That’s good.” He continues plunging into your core, every thrust bringing about a lewd squelch. “So sorry I held out on you, baby…” Reiner mumbles. “M’gonna make it up to you, okay?” The way he’s stroking your insides is the best apology you could think of.

Reiner knows just how to work your body, almost too well. With swift motions, he skillfully curls his fingers up, nudging into an area that makes you writhe. “Found it,” he unconsciously whispers.

After locating your sweet spot, he doesn’t relent. His flicking wrist allows him to push in faster, and the repetitive prodding of his thick digits gets you shaking. Your breath comes out in disarrayed puffs as you clamp down on his digits, hard, to the point where he can hardly move. It’s like a plea for him to remain inside.

“— So fuckin’ tight…” he curses, teeth grit. “Just relax, baby.” Reiner calms you with his low tone, despite being knuckle-deep as your pussy draws him in. He struggles against your tight pink walls to pull out. Your stretched hole pulses around an empty nothingness where his fingers once were. You’re throbbing so much for him; the sight could almost make him cum in his pants.

Reiner drags his touch down your gaping slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it over your puffy bud. He takes pleasure in the way your eyes roll back. You jerk underneath the pressure he applies, legs closing in and trapping his hand between them.

“Keep ‘em open.” He exerts the slightest bit of strength to pry you apart by the thighs, proceeding with his attack on your clit. He notices the way you convulse, like you’re bound to crumble apart at any given moment. “R-Reiner,” you brokenly wail. “M’gonna—!” You aren’t in the right mind to speak. Just as he said earlier on, all you can do is take what he gives you.

“I know, baby.” He rubs you out with drenched fingers, “Want you to make a fuckin’ mess for me. C’mon.” and with that, plus a final of quick strokes at your bundle of nerves, Reiner prompts your disorienting climax. Your long nails dig into the flesh of his forearm, vision spotted white. Your orgasm’s powerful and he rides you through every lasting second of it.

“That’s it… you did so good, baby.” he mutters, pouring sweet nothing into your ear like you can even register what he’s saying. You don’t even notice the drool slipping past the corner of your own lips, or the tears pricking your eyes. All with the work of his calloused fingers, he’s thoroughly ruined you. Thing is, he isn’t even halfway done.

Reiner leans down and scatters the lightest of butterfly kisses across your cheek, your neck, your shoulder; anywhere he can reach. He calls out to you by your name, trying to reel you back into consciousness with a pinch on your side. You squirm, and he airily chuckles. “There she is.”

You regain yourself, maneuvering up to rest on your knees. “Rei,” you sit before Reiner, mirroring him. Your delicate touch reaches for his crotch. His cock jumps when you grip him through his sweats. You speak soft and hushedly, the form of a weary whisper, “I want all of you.”

Despite being completely spent, you swear that you’re ready for more. Reiner doubts that you are. But you’ve begged him for so long, he might as well deliver.

“I was gonna get to that,” he habitually tilts his head to the left, grabbing onto the hem of his sweatshirt. “but you just can’t wait, can you?” The olive-green top is pulled off, thrown into an obscure corner of the room. Right after, he begins to make quick work of his pants until they’re strewn away, dirtying the floor with his small heap of clothes.

Reiner grabs at the band of his briefs, about to rid himself of the final obstacle— until your hand skims over his. “Let me,” you say, breathless. With a brisk nod, he allows you. It’s intimate, how you strip him, with your hand resting at his shoulder while the other tugs down his waistband, eyes locking onto him throughout it all. Reiner lifts his hips, giving you access to peel away the underwear. You slide it past his thick, firm thighs until he’s kicking them off his ankles.

He feels your eyes trained on him, burning into his warm ivory skin. You run your gaze across the broad expanse of his athletic body, scrutinizing the subtle flexure of his muscles, from his pecs to his toned stomach. Aiming your stare downwards leads you straight to the obscene sight of his girthy dick, hanging between his legs and seizing all your attention. It lewdly bobs under its own weight, reddened tip gleaming with a sheen coat of precum. His balls hang beneath, heavy and throbbing.

“So big,” you haphazardly mumble. His face goes flush when you reach forward, encircling your dainty hand around the shaft and watching him twitch in your hold. You can’t even wrap it all the way around. “Shit,” Reiner swears. You giggle over the way his hips jolt.

Considering how eager you’ve been, Reiner hadn’t been expecting you to bring your head down to level, enveloping his pinkish tip into your pliant mouth. He never would’ve thought that you’d have time to swallow his dick. Though, he can’t complain, not with how well you suckle on his cockhead and stroke the rest, smearing him in your spit.

With a hand resting at the back of your head, Reiner begins to propel his hips forward, slowly bucking into your mouth. He loves how your lips stretch around the width of his cock, adoring the way you elicit gags when being pushed down little by little until you reach his base. Your tongue swipes along a protruding vein, wracking a shudder through him.

It’s when you moan around his shaft and look up at him with those glimmering eyes that he knows he’ll end up spouting cum all over your tongue if this goes on. Reiner can’t take much more of this. He needs you to encompass him, wrap around him, suck him in… he has to feel you. At least before he loses his mind over the wait.

He guides you off, releasing himself from the wet suction of your lips. “I have to fuck you,” Reiner heaves desperately, “Now.” He flips up the satiny material of your sleeping gown and hastily tosses it over your head, making sure to smooth down your hair after. Once again, he expertly maneuvers you onto your back.

Your hands lie beside your head, the shaggy carpet brushing softly against your shoulder blades. Reiner scoots in close, lifting your legs up and hitching them up on his wide shoulders. He rubs along your calves before directing his touch downwards to meet your core.

With a gentle stroke down your slit and light brushes against your folds, he’s thumbing you open. You’re slick and clenching, just for him. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he sounds awestruck, like he wasn’t just stuffing you with his middle, ring and pointer only minutes ago.

Reiner takes hold of his cock, circling around the tip with a sigh. He generously pumps himself before lining up with you, tapping at your clit just to mess with you a little. That brings about the restless wiggle of your hips.

“Ugh, Reiner!” you whine. He always likes to play the tease, even when the situation doesn’t permit him to. With your legs still placed up where he put them, you sway and kick your feet around, movement rapid above his head. “Put it in already—!”

“I will.” Reiner smacks his teeth. He’d usually ask nicely for you to behave. This time, he’ll make you. He holds you still, done easily with a simple grip on your ankle. It’s painless, but firm enough to get you to straighten up. “So fuckin’ needy.”

Reiner grabs onto your legs and pushes them back, until your painted toes dangle above your own head. “It’ll go deeper this way.” Reiner assures. He keeps you there, palms pressing into the bottom of your thighs to pin you against yourself. “You can take it like this, yeah? All folded up for me?”

“I can take it, Rei. I promise,” is your eager response. He flashes a seductive smile. “Oh, darlin’… I know you can.” Reiner hovers over you, positioning himself in a way that makes his cockhead bump into your pearly nub. He squats low and leans forward, to the point where he’s resting his weight onto you. It’s suffocating in the best way imaginable. You savor every moment of his body compressing yours.

At long last, Reiner gives what you’ve begged him for since midnight. With one smooth thrust forward, he’s plunged himself into your weeping pussy. It forces the air out of your lungs. “Oh— fuck,” you breathe out so lightly, Reiner can hardly hear it. He pushes his cock in further, groaning as he does so. You accommodate him and adapt to the gradual stretch.

Your tight cunt envelops him, clenching around every inch that he has to offer. You gaze up at Reiner with the prettiest set of lust-blown eyes. He pulls back before pressing forward, until his weighty balls are nestled at the hilt. He peers down to where you connect, attentively watching how you swallow him in.

“It’s deep, baby?” Reiner damn well knows that he’s pushing at your cervix and resting in your guts. He just wants to get a kick out of your answer. “So deep.” You gasp. Shiny tears are brimming at your eyes again. He follows a pattern of drawing out, only partially, just to slam back in. Your body lurches with every knock of his sturdy hips.

Before long, Reiner’s created a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His pelvis claps into yours and grinds at your clit, all as he delves his girth into the wet cavern of your sopping pussy. You cry out for him every single time. “R-Rei!” you stammer when he fucks into you with such zeal. He’s only just begun, and you’re already on the verge of sobbing. “Harder,” You plead.

And so, he listens. Reiner swiftly rocks into your warmth, flooding with arousal. His motions come on heavier as he puts his weight behind his rapid thrusts. “You want it all the goddamn time,” he grunts, jaw clenched. “Am I that good, baby? Can't get enough of me?”

“S— so good to me!” you mewl, bottom lip trapped under your teeth. You grab for him in hopes of reaching whatever you can, until your hands meet his tensed biceps. The ends of your nails skim his muscles, and he lets out a low hiss.

An especially rough thrust tugs a cry out of you. “Reiner, please!” You find yourself begging, unsure of what. All you know is that it’s too much for you to handle. His unrelenting pace has you struggling for the slightest granule of air you can muster to breathe in.

You scramble to push at Reiner’s abdomen, a measly attempt at slowing him down. He doesn’t give at all— you're only inducing him to go faster. “Uh-uh, baby. None of that,” deep-reaching thrusts punctuating his every word, “Thought you promised that y’could take me… Was that a lie?” he snarks.

“No, I— fuck!” it’s brutal, the way his dick slides in and nudges against your womb. You writhe underneath him, but the weight of his bulky body holds you down. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ run from me. You’ve been begging for it all night,” Reiner warningly seethes. “So take it.”

He fucks you with reckless abandon, working his way in and out of your slippery pussy. By the end of this, he wants you molded into the very shape of him, to have his fat cock leave an imprint on your walls. There’s a mess of dripping slick that soils your inner thighs and runs down his slapping balls.

Reiner takes just a second or two to simply relish in the moment, basking in how tight you’re squeezing him. He takes a mental picture, storing the detailed intimacy of this scenario into a back pocket of his mind. Reiner studies the way you prettily lie beneath him, lips agape. Your tits bounce in tandem with his every move.

“You’re gorgeous, baby.” he lets out a soft groan. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this.” Reiner’s face is mere inches apart from yours, and the short proximity allows you to appreciate his chiseled features. Strong jaw, well-defined nose, and neat stubble; not to mention the most striking set of golden eyes. Effortlessly charming. He could make your panties drop if they hadn’t been torn off already.

Your arms wire around his neck, holding on for dear life. “Reiner, I—” he rams into you, and you almost choke on his name. The words clog in your throat as you manage out a drowsy request. “Want more of you! Please,”

More, you say? Like you could remotely handle anything greater than what he’s giving you now? That’s fine. He'll simply make sure to fulfill your needs until your cup overflows.

He dips low until the defined arch of his nose is brushing past yours, fucking you rough on the fluffy carpet with a higher vigor. It’s like he’s finally snapped. “Fuckin’ greedy,” Reiner snarls against your ear, his stubble grazing your cheek, “Wanted it so bad that y’couldnt wait, huh? Got me fucking you on the ground like a goddamn animal.”

Reiner’s cutting words make you pulse. He’s never done you this hard before. There’s a noticeable change in the way he’s handling you. He’d usually be unhurried and careful, paired with the mutter of encouraging words against the shell of your ear. In all honesty, you like this for a change. After this round’s over, you’ll make an effort to piss him off more often.

“Reinerrr,” You whimper aloud, drawing it out through a stretched moan. His balls jump over your droned call of his name. If you keep it up, he might just wind up coming inside without a second thought.

You clamp down on his vein-littered cock with increased urgency. “You’re close, aren’t you?” Reiner questions, quickening his tempo. He wants you to unravel. “Mm-hm!” you pant. Your impending climax is coming along again. You can feel it, that tense buildup that lies deep in your trembling pelvis. Reiner urges your release. “Let go for me, baby.”

He bites down on your shoulder when you drag your nails down his firm back. “Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” he rambles dirty lines onto your sweat-coated skin, reaching down between you to give your puffed clit a brisk swipe or two.

That's enough to get you to undo. You’re rapidly fluttering around him, head tossed back. He's there to hold onto you, searing his touch into your skin as you fall completely apart in his safe grasp. You tremor for him, orgasmic waves coursing up your spine. Reiner carries on with his unruly thrusts, meeting you in a brash kiss.

You gasp against his mouth, breathing him in. Reiner surrounds you from every possible angle; around you, pecking your lips and rubbing your waist… more especially inside you, whisking at your spent walls with his thick cock. It’s all so much. “Fuck, I can’t, Rei… no more,” you shake beneath his heavyset figure.

“Just hold on for me, baby,” he pleads in a lowly whimper. The over-stim has your feet jerking above your head. “Lemme use your pussy for a little longer. Is that alright? Hm?” his consistent pounding makes you go fucking brain-dead. That’s probably why you don’t catch a single word of his. The only perceivable sound is the dense clap of his skin as it collides with yours.

Reiner’s thin brows draw together, his mouth drops open, and the underside of his dick spasms. That’s how you know he’s soon to topple over the edge. “I’m so close,” he releases a guttural whine, pattern growing sloppier. There’s a burning ache in his thighs, but he doesn’t care to stop. He’ll chase that high until the both of you soak this carpet in cum.

The tremble of your form underneath his, your breathy moans entering his ear, the dull scrape of your nails down his back; it’s all part of what urges his release. Reiner’s grip on your side is taut when he comes. “Fuuck,” he swears, moaning the loudest he has all night.

You gladly welcome the loads of pearly cum that he drains into you. It warmly spills out, dripping past your labia and down to your asscheeks. Reiner’s drenched, too. It’s made a mess of his twitching shaft, pelvis, and sac.

Reiner huffs, sitting up to rest on his knees. He’s yet to recover. “That was… damn.” His chest heaves. Intense, he means. That’s the word closest to accuracy that you could use to describe the burst of passion between you and him. Reiner comes back down to earth, unthinkingly caressing your thighs. He loosens his hold on your midriff, managing to catch his breath.

You look up at him with admiration swirling in your dilated eyes. “You good, baby?” Reiner directs his attention your way, and you acknowledge him with a hum. “I didn’t go too hard, did I?” Him and his slew of questions. You don’t mind it, since he means well. His thoughtful nature warms your heart.

“It was perfect, I came twice and everything. Now c’mere!” As always, these kinds of sessions end with you outstretching your hands, gesturing him closer so that he can cradle you in his arms. Gently, Reiner lowers down until he rests atop your bare figure, leaning his weight onto you with the utmost caution.

“I’ll clean you up after this, honey.” he mumbles, cheek pressed against your boobs. “I know you will,” you expect him to. He’s made taking care of you a habit.

You stare into the distance and feel the cool blow of the ceiling fan, carding a hand through the short tresses of his blonde hair. His forehead’s exposed and sheen with sweat. You inhale his scent (now merged with the smell of sex), and rub your palms over his thickset muscles, just appreciating his being. Silence engulfs you both.

Moments later, you break the quiet atmosphere with a faint laugh. Reiner perks his head up. “What is it?”

“You were rougher than normal,” you observe. He lifts a brow. “And that’s funny? Thought you liked it.”

“I did!” you’re quick to reassure him. “I just didn’t know you had it in you, baby. That’s all,” you wrap your arms around his back, using your tender touch to soothe the red-lined scratches from earlier. “Well, you brought it out of me… brat.” the last part is said under his breath. You catch on anyway.

That brings about your incredulous gasp, like you don’t already know that yourself. “Me? A brat?” you light-heartedly challenge the truth of his words. “Oh, very much so. But I love you anyway.” Reiner scoots up to kiss you, his softened cock skimming your thigh.

“Aren't you glad I interrupted you? You should be,” you claim. Although drowsy, he lets out a buoyant laugh, one that rumbles in his chest. He’d never hear the end of you reciting ‘I was right!’ if he were to confess, but he is grateful you distracted him. You were the one to initiate, but he came to realize that he needed it too.

Reiner would say tonight helped him realize that you never fail to get what you want, but he already knew that.

In truth, one thing was clarified for him— dick is the only effective form of correction that works on his pretty little vixen of a girlfriend.

TAGS ༉‧₊˚. @hellavile @indiecursor @nneedynymph @deemanaa @photosbyameil @venusflytrapstar @fkatwigsisthenextkatebush @ctrllovre @aiyaaayei @hoohoohope @minniecums @turdettethefirst ♡︎

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1111jenx · 8 months

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Mercury in the Signs & Communication🕊️

Book a reading with me here

Master-list here

Mercury in Aries: Their words are like fire, igniting the air around them. They speak with such fervor and conviction, making every conversation feel like a passionate debate. Quick-witted and sharp, they never miss a beat. Their sentences are often short, direct, and to the point, reflecting their impulsive nature. They have a unique way of making even the most mundane topics sound exciting. Their voice carries an energy that is both invigorating and inspiring. They are the pioneers of new ideas, always eager to share their latest discoveries.

Mercury in Taurus: Their words flow like a gentle stream, steady and soothing. They think before they speak, ensuring that every word is chosen with care. Conversations with them feel like a warm embrace, comforting and reassuring. They have a talent for explaining complex ideas in simple terms, making them excellent teachers. Their voice carries a calmness that can pacify even the most agitated souls. They value honesty and always speak their truth, even if it's not what others want to hear.

Mercury in Gemini: The true conversationalists of the zodiac. Their minds are always buzzing with thoughts, ideas, and questions. They have an insatiable curiosity and a knack for gathering information. Talking to them feels like a thrilling roller coaster ride, with twists and turns at every corner. They can effortlessly switch between topics, making every conversation feel fresh and exciting. Their playful banter and witty remarks are truly unmatched. They are the masters of communication, always finding the right words at the right time.

Mercury in Cancer: Their words are infused with emotion, making every conversation feel deeply personal. They have an innate ability to understand and empathize with others, often sensing what someone needs to hear before they even speak. Conversations with them feel like therapy sessions, healing and transformative. They have a softness in their voice that can melt the coldest of hearts. They value emotional connections and always strive to nurture and protect them.

Mercury in Leo: They speak with authority and confidence, making them natural-born leaders. Their words are powerful and persuasive, often inspiring others to take action. Conversations with them feel like motivational speeches, uplifting and energizing. They have a flair for the dramatic, often adding a touch of theatrics to their stories. Their voice carries a warmth that draws people in, making them feel special and valued. They are the champions of self-expression, always encouraging others to speak their truth.

Mercury in Virgo: Precision and clarity define their communication style. They have an eye for detail and a mind that seeks perfection. Conversations with them are informative and enlightening, often leaving you with valuable insights. They have a methodical way of presenting information, ensuring that nothing is left out. Their voice carries a calmness and rationality that can soothe even the most anxious minds. They value efficiency and always strive to improve and refine their communication skills.

Mercury in Libra: Diplomacy and grace are their trademarks. They have a talent for seeing all sides of a situation and finding common ground. Conversations with them are harmonious and balanced, often leading to mutual understanding. They have a soft and melodic voice that can charm anyone. They value fairness and always strive to create an environment where everyone feels heard and respected.

Mercury in Scorpio: Their words carry depth and intensity, often revealing hidden truths. They have a talent for seeing beyond the surface and uncovering secrets. Conversations with them are transformative and cathartic, often leading to profound realizations. Their voice carries a mysterious allure that draws people in, making them want to know more. They value authenticity and always strive to speak their truth, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.

Mercury in Sagittarius: Adventure and exploration define their communication style. They have a thirst for knowledge and a passion for sharing it with others. Conversations with them are expansive and enlightening, often leading to new horizons. They have a jovial and optimistic voice that can uplift anyone. They value freedom of expression and always strive to broaden their horizons through communication.

Mercury in Capricorn: Their words are measured and deliberate, reflecting their practical and grounded nature. They have a talent for organizing thoughts and presenting them in a logical and coherent manner. Conversations with them are structured and goal-oriented, often leading to concrete outcomes. Their voice carries a seriousness and authority that commands respect. They value discipline and always strive to communicate with purpose and intention.

Mercury in Aquarius: Innovation and originality define their communication style. They have a mind that thinks outside the box and a voice that challenges the status quo. Conversations with them are stimulating and thought-provoking, often leading to new ideas and perspectives. They have a quirky and unpredictable voice that keeps people on their toes. They value individuality and always strive to break free from conventions.

Mercury in Pisces: Their words are poetic and dreamy, often blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. They have a talent for tapping into the collective unconscious and expressing universal truths. Conversations with them are mystical and transcendent, often leading to spiritual insights. Their voice carries a softness and sensitivity that can touch the soul. They value intuition and always strive to communicate from the heart.

With love,

saint jenx🪐

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vmpiires · 16 days

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﹆₊注意‧₊˚ PAY ATTENTION TO ME, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ your boyfriend has been on the game for the whole day. why not distract him a little? wc, 1.23K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this idea had me giggling and kickin my feet. i’m back from my “break”. and did yall see the eclipse monday? it was mad pretty. also with gamer!choso, he strikes me as a destiny 2/valorant/overwatch player. hope ya enjoy the storyyyy. reblog to support meeee

␥ tags. gamer!choso, reader is getting bored watching choso play, smut, riding him while he plays his game, female anatomy, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

perched on the edge of the bed, you watched as your boyfriend choso raged and fumed at his teammates, their second loss in a single hour driving him to madness. his body was taut and rigid, every muscle coiled with tension as his nimble fingers flew across the keyboard, navigating the character with precision.

you sat there, wishing those hands were on you, exploring every inch of your body instead of his loadout before starting another round. the room was filled with the sound of clicking keys and expletives as if a storm was brewing within the small space.

your gaze remained fixated on the back of choso's head, tracing every strand of his obsidian hair that flowed from his low ponytail and clung to the pale skin of his neck.

the rest of his hair framed his face in a silken curtain, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones. you couldn't help but study every minute detail, from the way strands danced in the breeze to the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

the deafening roar of weapons firing and the frustrated mutterings of choso echoed through the air, seeming to last for an eternity before the match finally came to an end.

with a jubilant shout, choso leapt up from his seat, celebrating his team's victory with wild enthusiasm. your nostrils flared in annoyance and your shoulders slumped in disappointment, but then a spark of determination ignited in your mind as an idea popped into your head.

as you rose from the bed, the springs beneath it groaned in protest. choso was engrossed in his favorite game, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard as he swiftly maneuvered the controls. you straddled him, feeling the creak of his chair as you settled onto his lap.

choso's smile widened as he glanced up at you, then quickly leaned in to kiss your head before returning his attention to the screen. A warm flush spread across your cheeks and your lips couldn't help but curve into a delighted grin.

"choso," you prodded playfully. "you've been playing valorant since we woke up…are you sure there isn't something else you’d rather do, something more fun?" the room was filled with the glow of the computer screen, but all you wanted was some time with your boyfriend and doing something more fun than sitting inside playing video games all day.

choso let out a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing as he spoke. "i know," he said, his deep voice carrying a hint of frustration. "but listen, baby, just a couple more games and i'll get off. we can do whatever you want, okay?"

his proposal sounded intriguing, but your impatience was growing with each passing second. without much thought, you agreed to choso's request and soon found yourself removing your shorts. he didn't even notice, too focused on claiming another victory in his game.

you took a moment to study the man before you. his grey joggers were neatly tied in a knot at his waist, emphasizing the noticeable bulge beneath the cloth. your gaze traveled up to meet his intense violet eyes, which sparkled with determination as he focused on the screen in front of him. it was the same look he gave you when he pounded into you after a stressful day, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

with furtive glances around the room, you leaned forward and gently tugged at the strings of his pants, slowly pulling down both his joggers and boxers. despite your efforts to be discreet, you couldn't help but marvel at the thought of being caught. choso seemed completely oblivious, not even paying you any mind.

once his pants were low enough for you to access, you carefully adjusted yourself onto his lap and positioned yourself above his erect shaft. as you made yourself comfortable, you couldn't help but smirk at how unaware he was. how could he not notice someone pulling his pants off or feel your drenched core pressing against him?

your slick coated his length as you dragged it teasingly against him, reveling in the knowledge that anyone would have noticed such blatant actions. but choso remained blissfully unaware, lost in his own thoughts as you took control of the situation.

choso was completely lost in his video game, the bright graphics and music consuming his senses. he barely noticed when you wrapped your arms around his body, pressing yourself closer and grinding against him, small whimpers escaping your lips. it wasn't until he felt your movements become more urgent that he snapped back to reality.

he let out a low groan as he tried to focus on both the game and the pleasure you were giving him. but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to do so. "fuck, couldn't you wait?" he strained, feeling his breath getting heavier as he rolled his hips back against yours. his vision started to blur as the sensations overtook him.

choso bit down on his lower lip, trying to hold onto his control as you moaned in his ear. "you were taking too long," you finally replied, panting slightly. the chair beneath you both creaked under your weight as your hips continued to grind against each other, the room filled with the sounds of the game and your shared desire.

as the game drew to a close, choso struggled to concentrate on finishing as your urgent movements pressed against him. the rhythm of your body, shifting from slow to fast, kept him on edge. your moans and cries drowned out the sounds of the game, overwhelming his senses.

tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the intensity of your desire. choso's heart raced as he tried to keep up with your escalating passion. each touch and kiss was like a fire burning through his veins, igniting a deep desire within him. as the intensity grew, he found himself lost in the moment, completely consumed by you.

as the intensity grew, your mouth began to salivate, and drool escaped from your parted lips. the sensation of choso's body against yours was overwhelming, and you could feel him nearing his climax. your moans echoed in the room, mingling with his. your nails dug deeper into his back, leaving marks symbolizing this passionate moment.

just as choso reached his peak, so did you. warm liquid spurted from his tip and onto his chair and thigh, evidence of the pleasure he had experienced with you. during the aftermath, your fluids mingled with his, coating his now softened shaft. you put your head down on his shoulder, your breath hitting his skin as you tried to catch your breath.

you were about to move yourself off of choso but you felt his arm squeeze tightly around your waist. he kissed your neck and moved up to your ear. "you made me lose my game," he whispered, eyeing his computer screen that showed a death screen.

a mischievous smirk played at the corners of your lips as you looked at him, "well, i can't say i feel bad or whatever," you teased. "i think a little distraction was exactly what you needed." the air between the two of you crackled with energy as you waited for his response, ready to pounce with more playful banter. choso rolled his eyes.

“whatever. next time i’m locking you out,” choso grumbled, finally letting you get up.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

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st4rfckerz · 1 month

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mdni 18+

"Just relax Angel, let me help." Anakin leans forward as you lay on his plush bed. Your period was unfortunately on it's merry way and you could tell by the way your tits ached horribly. He props himself up above you and slides his warm hands underneath his shirt that you so graciously stole. With practiced precision, he cups your breasts in both hands, massaging them firmly yet tenderly.

Despite being caught off guard by his actions, there's something about the swirl of pain and pleasure coursing through your body that ignites a fire within your veins. Your heart races faster as he continues to knead your sensitive tissue, his thumbs drawing circles around your hardened nipples until they stand erect against his palms.

"You doin' okay?" Anakin coos sweetly.

"Mhm." you sigh, letting a moan accidently slip from your lips. Anakin hums appreciatively at your reaction and repeating that same 'mhm' playfully. A small smirk forming on his face as he works at relieving your discomfort, a hint of arousal seeping in as well. Anakin knew exactly how to get you into this state of mind, where you could feel your brain turning into a hazy mush.

Anakin lifts his head, meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment before dipping his head down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth.

The sensation is immediate, a sharp contrast between the gentle massage and the sudden suction, creating a new wave of sensations that courses through your body.

"Ani...mmph- m'too sensitive." you whine as you rake your fingers through his dark golden curls. Anakin looks up at you, eyes wide and doe like, watching your reaction intently as he continues his ministrations, sucking and massaging your left breast with devotion, balancing your comfort and arousal with great care.

"I know baby, just hang in there for me." He purrs, he glances down at his work, seeing the subtle peaks of your nipples and the slight reddening of your skin, admiring the changes he brings about with his attention. He keeps his dangerous eye contact with you as he gently switches to the other nipple and taking it into his mouth. His fingers trailing along your waist, lingering on the curve, tracing the outline of your hip and moving back up to repeat the process.

You were too far gone to see that Anakin had stopped his tender touches along your waist and was now tentatively reaching under your soaked panties. His eyes flutter shut and he groans softly, a vibration tickling your nipple as he revels in how incredibly wet you've become.

Anakin watches you closely as he slides his finger along your folds, his breath hitched at your response, eyes heavy with arousal as he commits every detail to memory.

" 's this all for me? hm?" he murmurs approvingly, his voice low and raspy as he starts kissing his way down your stomach, his finger continuing its lazy dance with your cunt, dipping inside ever so slightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips.

"Just for you Ani." Anakin's eyes flare at your words, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stops mere inches away from your core. He looks up at you, your connection intense and unapologetically carnal.

"Uh huh, I know it is." he whispers, leaning in closer to your dripping pussy, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, a gentle tease before he finally dives in, his tongue dipping into your folds, tasting your wetness and exploring with care. "Gonna take realll good care of you Angel." He grabs your legs gently, lifting them higher on his shoulders, spreading you wide open for him, giving him complete access to your most vulnerable and wanted part.

It's clear that you were distracted by Anakin's actions and finally forgot the agonizing pain from earlier.

#wrote this because i'm on my period #i'm suffering without this man #nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin x you #st4rfckerz

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inkykeiji · 1 month

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⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + marking you

character: vox warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, marking/branding (carving something into the skin), blood, toxic relationship, extreme possessiveness, daddy kink, dacryphilia, fem!reader, minimal/no prep, dubcon if you squint, pet names, painful sex, reader doesn’t get to orgasm words: 1.8k notes: vox likes to mark what belongs to him. permanently. and, as always, that mark must be perfect.

He’s been at it for nearly half an hour now, a slow drag of his index claw downward, pressure concentrated on the very point of the talon, following the line of a perfect slant before sharply pivoting upward, velocity slowing as it works back toward your hips, tracing another slant perfectly parallel to the first.

A split second of reprieve, a single instant where the metal leaves your skin only to find the origin of the wound and begin the process all over again.

“V-Vox—”

“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice low and airy, so close and concentrated on his work that you can feel his breath wafting over the cut, cool and burning.

Cyan pupils pulse as they expand, desperate to devour as much as they can, scouring every minute detail and honing their focus on the singular letter he’s painstakingly carving into your pubic bone.

He’s meticulous with it, of course, just as he is with everything else, every movement precise and perfect. It has to be done this way, he had told you at the start, when you had whined about the deliberately drawn-out drag of his talon. Slow and steady, so it will heal in sharp, neat lines, all raised and gorgeous.

A permanent mark of ownership, scarred into your skin for the rest of eternity.

The tapered tip of the V is the worst part, the harsh, quick maneuver of his claw procuring a deep sting, a yelp sticking in your throat as you try to swallow against the sound, Vox’s immediate responding coo, always accompanied by the brush of his thumb over your hip in the gentlest caress, doing little to soothe the pain.

“But it—it hurts,” you hiccup out, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the prick of tears. “How much longer?”

“Just a few more times, baby, I promise,” he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “You’re doing so well for me, lovebug, so well.”

But a few more times turns into another agonizing fifteen minutes with seemingly no end in sight, Vox lost in the repetitive actions, and the wound is starting to tingle, sticky crimson pooling in the flawlessly carved gouges, staining teal bright red.

Tears have begun to leak from the corners of your eyes as they finally overflow, spilling past your lash line to stream down the sides of your temples in uneven little trails, vision gone blurry with a thick shield of water.

Your ribs stammer with half-stifled sobs, a soft hush distractedly falling from Vox’s lips with each minuscule jerk of your body, the hand on your hip tightening in warning.

“Daddy’s almost done, darling,” he pacifies, a gentle threat sewn into his tone—don’t fucking move yet—we’re so close, don’t you dare mess this up. “Just a tiny bit longer, I swear.”

“I can’t, I can’t, Daddy, it’s—it’s too much!”

“Hey,” he looks up, a shock of sincerity slapped across his face, his voice ringing with painfully raw compassion. “I know you can handle just a few more for Daddy, can’t you? Don’t you want it to look pretty, too?”

Large eyes search your face with a rabid type of candour, hunting for validity. But your head is already nodding before he’s even finished speaking, motions becoming increasingly vigorous, an instinctual reaction, at this point—obedient as ever, desperate to please.

Of course you do—you want whatever he does, always.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to sniffle out, the heels of your hands wiping messily at your lashes, smearing tears across your cheeks. “Yes, yes, Daddy.”

His eyes soften, their usually bold glow dimmed with a sick sort of adoration, but his smile is barbed, stretching with something sinister.

“There’s my good girl,” Vox purrs, pressing another tender kiss to the junction of your thigh and your hip. “Now, hold still while Daddy finishes.”

Another three traces through the routine—these last three harder and more purposeful than all those that came before them—and finally, he’s done, sitting back on his heels between your spread legs and gazing down at his masterpiece.

Blood drips down his index finger in a thick dollop, his eyes shifting to watch with morbid fascination, the tip of his claw glazed with shimmering scarlet. Tilting it one way, then the other, he examines how it gleams in the low light of his bedroom—so pretty, he looks so pretty stained with you—then brings the talon to his lips, long tongue snaking from between his teeth to curl around it in a possessive embrace.

He sucks it into the heat of his mouth, a low groan rumbling deep behind his sternum as his eyes slip shut, taking a moment to savour the taste of you. His lids snap back open a moment later, eyes drifting back to the freshly etched V, his free hand moving to rub at his cock, straining eagerly against his trousers.

“F-Fuck,” he shudders out, the word soft as he stares at it, wide and unblinking, rolling the impressive bulge in his palm in lopsided little circles, then grinding the heel of his hand into it, his hips twitching up instinctively. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, okay, princess?”

Your head is nodding, but you’re barely able to utter out an affirmative, because then he’s surging forward, a palm cupping your jaw as his fingers hook behind the hinge, pulling your face towards his and smashing your lips together. Bursts of copper explode on your tastebuds as he drags his tongue across yours—the slick muscle stronger, larger, wider as it shoves its way into your mouth, impelling your own tongue further into the hot, wet cavern.

It’s sloppy and slippery and so, so sexy, his claws piercing your skin with superficial little pricks as he tries to yank you closer, your nose scrunched against his screen. Obscene squelching echoes throughout his bedroom as your lips glide and nip, copious amounts of drool, tinged pink with your blood, oozing from the corners of your conjoined mouths, leaving your chins shining with spit.

He overrides your senses, overwhelms your receptors and infuses your mind with nothing but him—his taste, smoky spice infused with metallic notes; his scent, sharp balsam and expensive cologne; his touch, still burning at the apex of your thighs, a constant reminder, an everlasting claim.

A sharp gasp breaks the kiss as he forces his cock inside of you, forehead knocking against your own with a dark growl as his hips rock forward, burying himself in your cunt in a single, fluid motion.

Large hands curl around your hips, pinning them in place and keeping you from squirming away as he ruts into you, grinding his cockhead further into your cervix, ensuring he’s buried as deep as he possibly can be.

A singular moment, a breath shared between the two of you, oxygen sparse and dizzying as he takes time to revel in the feeling of filling you to the hilt, your sweet little hole spasming around him as it stretches and splits, eager to accommodate his girth, to gorge on his flesh.

Leaning back on his haunches, he drags your hips along with him, tailbone resting on his folded thighs, your knees thrown over either side of his hips.

There’s no warning, no slow start or gradual build up, his cock slamming into you searing and sudden, fucking a gorgeous cry of his name from your throat.

His chest heaves with ragged exhales as his hips pump, hard and fast and rough, voracious gaze swapping between your bouncing tits and the crisply engraved V glittering up at him on your pubic bone, still coloured with blood, drizzling past the scrupulously incised grooves with each vicious ram to stream down your skin, leaving tiny streaks of red.

The gash enchants him, pupils swollen as they soak up the sight, captivated by the way it quivers with every ruthless thrust into you, watching each drive of his cock as he sheathes himself in your cunt. The glistening arousal coating his shaft contrasts the blood so perfectly, the hands on your waist yanking downward with every jackhammer of his hips, forcing you to meet his motions.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s snarling as he fucks you, the word punched from his chest with each plunging thrust.

“Yours, Daddy,” you sob out with messy little nods, dainty fingers braceletting his wrists, nails sinking into thin skin as you cling to him. “Yours, yours!”

“No one gets to have you like this,” he gasps out, voice gone hoarse. “No one, tell me.”

“No one—No one gets to have me like this but you, Da-Daddy,” you nearly wail, staring up at him with such bright devotion it almost hurts, your gaze lacquered with tears.

“Ah, fuck,” he whimpers, the curse shattering on his tongue, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment before springing back open, gaping and gluttonous. “Yeah, yeah, you’re goddamn right.”

His motions have turned downright brutal now, every pound of his cock more merciless than the last, the strike of his hips jostling your entire body up the mattress, just barely held in place by the grip of his claws, razored points puncturing your flesh and scraping, tiny trickles of blood oozing from the lacerations.

“Your mind, your cunt, your fucking soul—it all belongs to me,” digitized blood drips from the corner of his mouth, the glaring glow of his eyes so brilliant it’s hard to bear, casting a flare of red across your skin.

“Yes, yes, y-yes,” you’re babbling out, gone delirious with the heady intoxication of pain and pleasure, fingers digging into his flesh in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. “You own me, Vox.”

“Oh, Christ—”

The confirmation has him cumming quickly, hips pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs violently, stuffing you full with copious amounts of thick, burning cum. His body stills, keeping his hips shoved up against you, almost as if he’s trying to plug you, to keep his seed inside of you, to claim you from the inside out.

But it’s so much—too much—and you can feel it exuding past his shaft to dribble down your skin, leaving behind streams of pretty pearlescent strokes.

Finally, he pulls out of you, another cracked curse falling from his lips as he watches with a sort of sordid obsession, his cock glazed with his cum and your blood, the tops of his thighs smeared with his own essence.

“So beautiful,” he whispers to himself, claw reaching out to trace the V again, a hiss spit from between your teeth, body trembling with the effort to stay still, to resist flinching away from his stinging touch, to be good for him. “So fucking perfect.”

Slinking down the bed, he wedges his head between your spread thighs to inspect the wound more thoroughly, teal tongue unfurling from his mouth to lave over the deep cut, mopping up excess blood as he follows the contours carefully once, twice, three times.

“Mine,” he murmurs, planting a gentle kiss atop the wound, sealing the breathy claim into your flesh. “Mine, forever.”

“Yours,” you whisper, looking down at him as your finger outlines the V affectionately, a loving caress of what he’s gifted you. “Yours, forever.”

#vox x reader #vox smut #vox x you #hazbin hotel smut #vox headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #tw:blood #tw:branding #w:toxic relationship #tw:daddy kink #inky.vox #inky.hazbin

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carmelcoco · 2 months

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sun notes. 🍊

Disclaimer. these observations do not have to resonate with everyone and everything, all expressed in this post is based on personal experience and research.

𝒜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 : Individuals with an Aries sun sign are spontaneous and energetic, known for their honesty and straightforwardness. They're natural leaders who thrive on adventure and embrace challenges with enthusiasm. Ruled by Mars, they can be fiery and impatient at times, especially with people who don't match their energetic vibe. Yet their determination and go-getter attitude make them charismatic. However, their impulsivity and assertiveness may sometimes overshadow empathy, leading to difficulties in listening to others. Overall, Aries folks are spirited leaders who are ready for action and adventure!

𝒯𝒶𝓊𝓇𝓊𝓈 : Taurus sun individuals value security and pleasure in life. They work hard to achieve their goals, and their strong attachment to tradition makes them feel secure. Taurus folks are dependable and determined, always seeing their goals through. They are patient, practical, and good with finances, which helps them build a stable life. However, their stubbornness and laziness can make them resistant to change and cause them to miss out on new opportunities. I mean they are represented by the bull and once a bull dig in its heals it is quite hard to sway them. They also have a tendency to be possessive due to their attachment to material possessions. Overall, Taurus individuals are known for their patience, practicality, and ability to build stable lives.

𝒢𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒾 : Gemini Suns are like a two-sided coin, always switching between their positive and challenging traits. They're sociable, chatty, and quick-witted. They make friends easily and always have a clever solution. However, they can be scatterbrained, easily bored, and prone to gossip. Commitment and focus can be a struggle for them, and their duality can be both a blessing and a curse in relationships. Gemini Suns are never boring, have many hobbies and interests, and can navigate new situations easily. But they also have a restless nature and need mental stimulation to avoid getting bored. Overall, they bring excitement and variety, ensuring there's never a dull moment when they're around.

𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇 : Individuals with a Sun in Cancer are nurturing, empathetic, and deeply loyal, with a strong love for family. They possess intuition and emotional depth, making them great listeners and creative individuals. However, they can be sensitive and prone to mood swings, sometimes retreating into their shell in the face of conflict. Their strong attachment to family can lead to overprotectiveness and difficulties in communication. Despite their challenges, Cancer Suns bring warmth and loyalty to relationships, valuing safety and security while also needing emotional space.

𝐿𝑒𝑜 : Individuals with a Sun in Leo are charismatic and confident, often excelling in leadership roles and the performing arts. They have a natural magnetism that draws people to them, but they can also be perceived as self-centered due to their need for attention and admiration. While they enjoy the spotlight, they are also hardworking and humble. They are motivated by affection and are attracted to the finer things in life, though they may have lazy days. Finding a balance between their desire for recognition and consideration for others' feelings is a continual challenge for them.

𝒱𝒾𝓇𝑔𝑜 : People with a Virgo Sun are detail-oriented perfectionists who are incredibly organized and practical. They have sharp minds and are excellent problem solvers and analytical thinkers. They pay attention to the nitty-gritty and are superb at any task that requires precision. However, their quest for perfection can sometimes make them a bit too critical, not just of themselves but of others too. Striking a balance between their high standards and a more relaxed approach to life is their lifelong challenge.

𝐿𝒾𝒷𝓇𝒶 : People with Libra sun signs value balance, equality, and harmony. They are skilled at seeing both sides of a situation and have a sense of justice. They are charming, have a great sense of style, and love art and beauty. However, their indecisiveness can cause issues, and they may struggle with putting their own needs before others. Libras may also come off as fake to some people. Despite this, Libra sun signs are sociable individuals who avoid conflict and prioritize fairness. Overall, Libras seek to maintain civility and sophistication in their interactions.

𝒮𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓅𝒾𝑜 : Scorpio suns are intense and have strong willpower. They know what they want and when to get it. They're not afraid of confrontation and have the gift to heal and transform. They have a magnetic vibe that draws people to them and are fiercely loyal. They're like detectives in their own lives, digging deep to uncover hidden truths. Their intensity can be intimidating and they sometimes have trust issues. They hide things and rarely invite people over.

𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓃 : Capricorn suns are realistic and grounded individuals who enjoy the simple things in life. They value tradition and stability and may be attracted to hard-earned luxuries. Capricorns are dependable and witty, with a mastery of sarcasm. They are ultimate goal-setters and hardworking individuals who climb the career ladder with determination. Although they can come off as too serious and workaholic, they are reliable friends and partners who prioritize their work over anything else. They struggle with letting loose and talking about their feelings.

𝒮𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓉𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 : Sagittarius suns are adventurous individuals who love exploration and expanding their horizons. They are enthusiastic, optimistic, and always eager to learn something new. They have a great sense of humor and can lift spirits, but can also be restless and blunt with their honesty. Commitment can be tricky for them as they value freedom. They prefer to do what they love and can seem a little irresponsible at times. They are cheerful, friendly, and easygoing, and getting along with others comes effortlessly to them. The need for escape and freedom can make them appear irresponsible at times.

𝒜𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓊𝓈 : Aquarius suns are unique and free-spirited individuals who are innovative thinkers and love challenging the norm with their progressive ideas. They value their independence and are accepting of others' quirks. Sometimes, they can appear aloof or emotionally detached. However, their idealism runs strong, and they are witty and intellectual individuals who cherish their individuality.

𝒫𝒾𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓈 : Individuals with a Pisces sun sign are depicted as dreamers with deep compassion and empathy. They are highly creative and sensitive, often channeling their creativity into artistic pursuits. However, their sensitivity can lead to feeling overwhelmed and difficulty setting boundaries. They are open-minded and understanding, but may struggle with practical matters and traditional goals. Overall, they possess a deep feeling for humanity and compassion, although they themselves may often feel misunderstood.

this post was created by @carmelcoco on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

#astroblr #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astro community #sun in sign #sun in aries #sun in taurus #sun in gemini #sun in cancer #sun in leo #sun in virgo #sun in libra #sun in scorpio #sun in aquarius #sun in capricorn #sun in pisces #sun in sagittarius

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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Studious II (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

After your last coupling, Prince Aemond has been acting quite strangely toward you. It doesn't make sorting out your own feeling for him any easier...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut (kinda?) , male masturbation, female masturbation (attempted), more Aegon commentary, more Aemond awkwardness

Author's Note: WOW, I was not expecting anyone to like my awkward Aemond brain dump, but boy howdy did y'all... I hope this lives up to the hype!

Read Part I Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist below the cut

Studious II

The day after his marriage, utterly distraught by the look of confusion and dissatisfaction on his wife’s face after the bedding, Prince Aemond Targaryen came to terms with the fact that he desperately needed help. And though it went against every instinct he had to ask for it, he would much rather admit this weakness – this shortcoming – than suffer seeing that disappointment on her sweet face each time he came to her.

He went to Grand Maester Orwyle first. For while he had taken a vow of chastity, his knowledge of anatomy would be more than useful. Besides, he had always been kind and patient with Aemond during their lessons in his youth – he would not judge the Prince for this failing.

For more practical knowledge, he asked Lord Jasper Wylde, his father’s Master of Laws. His long-held position on the Small Council proved he could be trusted. More than that, the man had seeded twenty-seven surviving legitimate children thus far, and another was soon expected. ‘Ironrod’ clearly knew what he was doing.

Lastly, Aemond reluctantly enlisted the help of his older brother. He had his doubts about whether Aegon actually knew anything useful. Still, no one could deny that he had more relevant experience than anyone in King’s Landing who was not a whore.

Aemond listened to their advice diligently, as if it were no different from anything else he had studied. And, like always, he had been a good student.

The glorious sounds his wife had made when he started putting his lessons to use still echoed in his mind. The gentle whine when he had kissed her. The sharp inhale when he had started caressing her. The shiver that ran through her when he found her ‘pearl,’ as Aegon had called it. And her delicious gasp when he found that sweet spot inside her.

But there were other sounds – worse sounds. The alarm in her voice after he had brushed his tongue against her lips. Her confusion as to why he was touching her at all. How her eyes had gone wide with panic when he began to pleasure her, and how she had begged him to stop.

And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hiding her face in her pillows after he smiled at seeing her find her own pleasure as he thrust into her – as though the very idea of enjoying being with him was something incomprehensible. Like it scared her.

She hadn’t wanted to look at him, kiss him, or be pleased by him. And she hadn’t come.

So, he assembled his advisors the next day, seeking some explanation of what he had done wrong. Or new instructions on how to please her in a way she wouldn’t eschew.

They had quickly decided the solution wasn’t some new technique, but for Aemond to ‘woo’ her.

The prospect at once delighted and terrified him.

At least he had advisors to help him figure out how.

Indeed, Lord Wylde had taken on the demeanour of a man plotting a war. He asked Aemond to list every detail he knew about his new bride and wrote everything he said word-for-word on a piece of parchment, along with his own commentary and musings on strategies.

Aegon’s comments and observations, mostly concerning her breasts, were not written down.

But the elder Prince did not mind, as he was quickly distracted by his own interrogation of Grand Maester Orwyle. He wanted to know precisely when, why, and how the Maester had pleasured Helaena.

Once Orwyle finished giving him the details, it was clear the Prince was far more impressed than offended. When Aegon finally turned back to the matter at hand, the Maester said a silent prayer of thanks that he was not going to lose his head.

After more than an hour of strategising, they had devised several courses of action for Aemond to try.

“She will be so enamoured by you that you won’t even have to touch her to get her to come,” Aegon declared proudly.

Orwyle and Wylde winced at the Prince’s crass words, but could not deny they also felt confident in the plan.

Aemond growled at his brother, eye blazing with rage. “This isn’t just about sex, Aegon. I want... I want her to like me.”

He sighed and slumped in his chair, running a hand over his flushed face. While he would never admit it aloud, he wanted so much more than to just be liked by his wife.

He wanted her to feel the same thing he felt exploding in his chest every time he looked at her. The intensity of the feeling was more frightening than losing his eye had been. And more thrilling than his first flight on Vhagar.

More than anything, he wanted her to love him – as he loved her.

But as his fingers grazed the leather strap of his eyepatch, he knew it was an impossible dream.

She was so beautiful. So gentle and kind. So pure and full of light.

He was monstrous. In the years since losing his eye, he had become as hideous in his soul as he was in the flesh. He had delved so deep into the darkness of his anger, resentment, and hatred that he knew there was no escape.

Until she had come into his life.

From the first moment he saw her step out of her father’s carriage, he knew that if she looked on him affectionately and allowed her holy light to shine upon him just once… perhaps he could be saved from damnation.

“I need her to like me,” he sighed, feeling not like the fearsome Prince and warrior he was, but like a whimpering, desperate child.

A dozen snide, and admittedly quite witty, comments died on Aegon’s lips. Once, he would not have hesitated to say them, to laugh at the hurt in his brother’s eyes.

But that was before Driftmark.

Before he had failed to protect Aemond from their bastard nephews – spurred on by the very teasing Aegon had once led them in. Though he wasn’t there when the eye was actually cut, he knew that if he hadn’t been such a twat before then, his brother would be whole.

He would still be an awkward, pathetic mess with no clue how to fuck a woman properly, but… he wouldn’t think himself so unworthy of his wife.

“Well,” Aegon drawled, slipping back into the mask of the blithe, carefree Prince everyone knew him to be. “I think we can at least manage ‘like.’ Now, get off your brooding ass, woo the girl, and make her come!”

You sat comfortably in a secluded corner of the Red Keep’s library, reading the book you had been forced to set down after your husband’s arrival in your chambers the night before.

Libraries were all the same, no matter where they were. The peaceful quiet interrupted only by the turning of heavy pages every so often. The soft shafts of yellow sunlight streaming through the small windows – stained glass, if you were lucky. The smell of old paper and well-worn leather.

It was far too easy to imagine you were back in your father’s library at home. Even better, this little corner you found felt as private as your own rooms.

More private, perhaps. Here, Prince Aemond could not barge in requesting you perform your marital duties.

Or so you thought.

A shadow stopped in front of you, blocking out the mottled sunlight you were using to read. Thinking that perhaps it was later than you’d thought, and one of the Maesters had come to tell you that you’d once again stayed past the library curfew, you looked up with a polite smile.

And met the single violet eye of your husband.

“Good afternoon, wife,” he greeted, dipping his head slightly and giving a decidedly awkward smile.

With his dimples, he was very nearly handsome when he smiled. But it did not quite reach his eye, and his brow was set too hard for you to truly see him as such.

Blinking rapidly as you tried to quickly hide your disappointment that your private reading spot was discovered, you returned the smile as best you could. “Husband.”

Aemond stared at you as though he expected more, as was apparently his habit, but you only stared back.

Why should it fall to you to put more effort into the marriage than he did?

Finally, he cleared his throat slightly. “I was wondering if I may join you in your reading? I noticed last night that you were reading Valyrian history. It is a favourite subject of mine.”

Indeed, you had begun studying the history of House Targaryen more in-depth the moment your betrothal was announced. You wanted to familiarise yourself with the family you were to join.

Though your ideas about becoming a true member of the family faded quickly, you continued your research. As much as the disappointment of your marriage had made you loathe to admit it, it was a fascinating history.

But now it meant Aemond wanted to read with you…

“I am sure you’ve read this particular history before,” you said, shyly showing him the title. It was little more than a beginner’s primer, almost more a storybook than a proper history, but you had to start somewhere. “Would you not rather read something more… novel?”

He laughed slightly, and you realised you had just unintentionally made a play on words. And not even a particularly clever one.

“Seeing my family’s history through your eyes would be quite ‘novel,’ as you so cleverly put it,” he replied, obviously quite determined, if he was willing to compliment you.

Was that… the first compliment he ever gave you?

When he smiled at you like that, it brought you back to the way he smiled when he had done… whatever it was he had done while he was inside you that made your vision burst into stars.

You blushed as heat pooled in your stomach at the memory, and the feelings that came with it. Your feelings about him, which you hadn’t yet allowed yourself to sort through – if you even wanted to.

He had made you feel so small and unwanted in the training yard when he grimaced and ran away from you. But then he had touched you so gently and gazed at you reverently at your slight gasp of pleasure like it was as beautiful a sound as he’d ever heard.

And then he left. Again.

But that was what you wanted – wasn’t it?

You had no idea what you wanted. And right now, figuring it out wasn’t your primary concern.

What he wanted from you was.

You prayed it was honestly just to discuss history.

So, you smiled as genuinely as you could and gestured to the seat across from you. “Then I would be… happy to have you join me.”

His eye lingered slightly on the seat next to you, but he nodded and took the seat you indicated.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“Should I…” you began, at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak.

You looked down, clamping your lips shut to let him speak first – as a good wife does.

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh before setting his hand on the table. You watched as he flexed his fingers, wondering for a moment if he wanted you to reach out as well – if he wanted to hold your hand.

It was a ridiculous thought. One you silently scolded yourself for as you gripped the book harder, keeping your hands firmly where they were.

Silence fell as he mulled over his words, the left corner of his mouth twitching every so often as though he had almost decided what to say. Not wanting to interrupt, you simply sat there, pondering how uncomfortable you had become in this once-soothing place.

When it was just you, you savoured the silence. When he was here, you abhorred it.

“Do you have any questions?” Aemond asked, finally breaking the silence.

His words confused you. Was he referring to the book or to him? You had so many questions about what he had done last night, though you were more than a little afraid to ask them.

“What kind of questions should I have?” you replied, ashamed by how small your voice came out. Hopefully, he interpreted it as respect for the library.

He quirked his head, his lips again spreading in that not-quite smile, not-quite frown he often made after you had said something to him. Then, on the table, his hand curled into a fist.

“Just…” he gestured to the book. “Questions about what you don’t understand. I would be more than happy to help you.”

If your mind had been clearer, perhaps you would have seen the offer for what it was: a genuine desire to help and, perhaps, a way to get to know you better.

But something about Aemond clouded all your good sense as thoroughly as a stormy sea.

Your brow instantly furrowed in anger. Did he really think you were so stupid you could not understand a simple book meant for children?

“I have no questions,” you said coldly, your voice louder and harder than before.

Aemond blinked, his eye widening as he reached further across the table toward you. “I… I have studied the histories extensively, and I know they are complicated and difficult to understand. If there is anything that you are struggling with, or – ”

“Of course,” you cut him off. All your mother’s advice about how to be a good, dutiful wife was long forgotten as your anger rose higher and higher. “It is quite a difficult book. The words, I’m afraid, are well past my simple understanding. I’ve actually only been looking at the illustrations.”

His face was frozen, his eye wide, and his mouth hanging slightly open. He looked remarkably like a freshly caught fish. You laughed at the thought, slammed the book shut, and stood.

“Although,” you hissed. “Even the pictures have started to become too ‘complicated’ for me. I’m afraid my headache is returning.”

He finally blinked and leaned across the table, truly reaching for your hand now. “No… I didn’t…”

You stepped away, harshly pulling your hand away from his. “If you will excuse me, husband. I must rest before the evening meal, or else I fear I will be too exhausted to participate in any intelligent conversation.”

That look of hurt again came over Aemond’s face, but you were far too angry to care. As you stomped out of the library, you did look back at him once.

If you had, you would have seen him slump over in his chair with his head in his hands before he pounded his clenched fist against the wood table, earning quite the scolding from a nearby Maester.

You once again did not attend the evening meal with Aemond and his family.

It had been a hard decision to come to. You had even dressed before finally deciding to remain in your rooms. But in the end, you supposed that the consequences of missing a second night would be easier to endure than an evening sitting next to your husband.

Your husband, who so obviously disliked you and thought you were an idiot.

That was what he had insinuated, wasn’t it? Why else would he have offered you help in understanding a children’s history book?

It was stupid of you to even want to read about Targaryen history, you scolded yourself. It was little more than a repetitive tale of countless generations of dragonriders who all shared the same handful of names. A stupid story about a stupid civilisation.

But as you sat at your desk eating your solitary meal, you couldn’t help but wish you hadn’t left the book in the library.

You contemplated sending one of your maids to fetch it, but you had no doubt Aemond would hear about it. That is, if he hadn’t just taken it himself.

Oh gods, what if he had?

He would find the notes you had made and tucked into the cover – including the family tree you sketched to keep all the names straight. It would only confirm his suspicions about your intellect.

You could picture his smug smile when he found the notes. The way the corners of his mouth would lift just enough to expose his dimples. There would be an arrogant twinkle in that violet eye. Perhaps he would be so amused by his simple-minded wife that he would have to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Those lovely pink lips that had felt so soft on yours…

Shaking your head violently to banish the foolish, lustful thoughts, you took a long drink of your wine. Hopefully, it would soothe your nerves enough for you to think about anything but Aemond. Or at least enough to calm your breathing and banish the heat that bloomed beneath your thighs.

Once again, you lost your appetite and sent your meal away only half-eaten.

You needed to pray.

That was the only answer. The only way you could rid your mind of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

You had only just grabbed your copy of The Seven-Pointed Star when there was a knock at the door.

Not again.

“Who is it?” you asked, heart pounding with both nervousness and anticipation.

“It is Grand Maester Orwyle, Princess,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Queen sent word you were unwell.”

A great wave of relief and disappointment washed over you, your book falling to the floor as your hands went slack. “Yes, come in,” you called.

Then, to yourself, you whispered, “I am quite unwell, indeed.”

The next afternoon, you sat comfortably on your couch, still in your nightgown and robe. It was improper, yes. But after assessing you in your somewhat panicked state the night before, Orwyle commanded you be relieved of your duties for the next few days.

‘Duties’ was a strong word, as your responsibilities only required you to stand silently next to your husband at court and gossip with the Ladies in the afternoon.

Still, you were glad to be rid of them, even if only for a few days. You had plans to go to Sept and pray and to sort out your feelings for your husband – the frightening, complicated feelings that had you so rattled that the Grand Maester himself thought you to be genuinely ill.

But not today.

Today, you would simply rest, drink your chamomile tea, and read the books your maid had fetched from the library.

None of them were history books. That had been the one requirement you had. Well, that and no romance.

So, as you sipped your tea, you allowed yourself to fall into the world of your book – a world of grand adventure, mythical beasts, and a pirate lord with a dashing smile and eyepatch…

Damn.

You threw the book aside, dangerously near the lit hearth, and crossed your arms. But before you could get too far into your wallowing, there was a knock at your door. Again.

“Who is it?” you called, eyes blazing as though you could see through the wood and smite whoever stood behind the door.

There was silence.

“It is Aemond,” came his soft, melodic voice. “May I please come in?”

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself to say ‘no. No, I don’t want to see you.’

“Yes, you may,” your voice said instead. You baulked, unsure how the words came out so wrong.

The moment he stepped through the door, you turned your eyes down. You didn’t want to look at him, for you knew if you did, your logic would abandon you as whatever it was you felt for him overcame you.

But then you caught a flash of bright pink, and your head snapped up.

Aemond was carrying a small bouquet of dog roses, your favourite flower.

The large blooms were the most vibrant pink you had ever seen, perhaps even more so than in the fields where they grew back at home. Even the dot of yellow in their centres seemed as bright as the sun.

They seemed so out of place against the wall of black leather that was Aemond.

Slowly, you looked up from the flowers to face your husband. He had crossed the room to stand before you – awkwardly, as always. His lips were pursed, and his brow set in a deep furrow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly and quietly, stiffly holding the flowers out to you. “For what I said yesterday.”

You did not move to take them. Did not blink. Did not breathe.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he continued, arm still extended. With the flowers only inches from your face, you could see how tightly he held the stems – his knuckles were bone white. “I spoke without thinking, and my words did not accurately reflect my intentions. I only meant – ”

His voice faltered as you reached up for the flowers. You did not want him to snap the stems. They would die more quickly if he did.

As your fingers brushed his, he flinched, dropping the flowers unceremoniously onto your lap. You immediately grabbed them, carefully examining each bloom to ensure it was not damaged. Thankfully, they were intact.

You stared and stared at them, memories flooding your mind. Every year, your entire family would journey to the fields where the dog roses bloomed. First, you would picnic together in the grass, the happiest meal of the year. Then, when you were finished, you and your siblings would race to examine each flower, competing to see who could find the loveliest bloom.

They would do so without you this year.

Distantly, you heard Aemond saying your name, drawing your attention back to him. He was frowning, his brow crumpled. “I thought…” he whispered, “I thought you would like them.”

You blinked, confused by his words. But the motion sent the tears welling in your eyes spilling down your cheeks. You were so caught up in your memories you did not notice you were crying.

As you looked back down at the flowers, you missed the subtle movement of Aemond’s hand, reaching out to wipe the tears away. Instead, when you moved away, he clenched his fist so tightly that his nails began to bite into his palm.

“I miss home,” was all you could say before the tears began to fall in earnest.

Aemond stepped back, bumping into the low table before the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Then he turned, stumbling into the table once more, and left.

As the sound of the shutting door echoed in your mind, you did not know whether you were still crying from your homesickness, or because he had left you again.

After Aemond left, and you had finally stopped crying, you had one of your maids set the bouquet in a vase. But not before you had carefully inspected each stem to be sure they were intact.

Somehow, they were.

You put the vase on your vanity where the flowers could catch the sunlight before crawling into your bed, intending to take a nap after what was an unintentionally exhausting morning.

But you did not find sleep.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling, thinking over what Aemond said.

He had apologised for making you feel stupid, and then you immediately cried over flowers.

You had never felt more stupid.

And now you felt like you needed to apologise.

So, despite having Orwyle’s official permission to skip all your obligations, you finally rose from your bed as the sun set and asked your maids to dress you for dinner.

Because you made your decision to attend the evening meal at the last minute, the rest of the family had already begun eating when you arrived.

Aemond, who sat facing the door, was the first to see you. His eye immediately went wide, and he stood so quickly that a servant had to catch his chair before it toppled to the ground.

Aegon began laughing hysterically.

Queen Alicent shushed him once before she stood, giving you a mildly concerned but otherwise pleasant smile. “I’m so glad you could join us, my dear,” she said pleasantly as she gestured for you to sit. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“I have simply been tired,” you assured her as you slowly walked around the table to your place. Curious, they had still set a place for you, despite your missing the last two meals. “Adjusting to life at court has been more difficult than I thought.”

As you came to stand before your chair, Aemond held a hand out to help you sit. Then, just as you had only hours before, you looked from his hand to his face. His brow was still set in a furrow, but he was almost smiling.

You took his hand, squeezing it tighter than you usually would. The only forgiveness you could give while being watched by his mother, grandsire, and siblings.

He seemed to understand, giving you a real smile – a breathtakingly beautiful smile – as you sat. You wanted to return it, but all your lips would do was tremble pathetically. You were sure that if you opened your mouth, you would burst into tears. So, you fixed your eyes on your plate and listened to the idle conversation around you.

Aemond himself began serving your plate, somehow knowing exactly what you liked and what you didn’t. When he finished, you looked over to him briefly and nodded your thanks, earning another of those beautiful smiles.

Your stomach flipped, and you told yourself it was only because you were hungry.

Neither you nor Aemond said anything to each other for the rest of the meal. Instead, you were more than content to simply listen. Or try to.

You were all too aware of every movement Aemond made. The way his long, elegant fingers gripped his goblet. The severe line of his jaw moving when he responded to his grandsire’s questions. The way he sat, legs bowed slightly outward to allow him comfortably at the table.

If you weren’t careful, your leg would brush against his.

You made sure to be very careful.

What you were not aware of was Prince Aegon’s eyes on you, noticing each time your eyes slid to his brother. Every so often, he would dip his chin and raise his brows when he made eye contact with Aemond, nodding toward you in encouragement.

Aemond noticed, but did nothing to act on it.

Not until the meal was ended and everyone rose from the table. He stepped to your side and extended his arm, accidentally bumping you, rather firmly, with his sharp elbow and causing you to jump away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Aemond said hastily. “I just… I hoped I could escort you back to your chambers?”

You looked at him for a moment, at the near-pleading in his eye, and nodded, slipping your arm into his for the first time since your wedding ceremony, and began to lead you through the castle halls.

As your private chambers were separate from the rest of the family’s, you were alone as you walked. You were not sure whether you were grateful for it or not.

The silence was palpable and nearly painful.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Aemond stumbled at the unexpected sound. “For the flowers, I mean. They are a favourite from home.”

You looked up at him, and he gave another half-smile, but said nothing.

Silence fell once more.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Aemond said, nearly shouting the sudden words. The corner of his lips twitched when you looked at him in shock. “This dress suits you much better than the one you wore yesterday, and is far more flattering than your nightclothes.”

Any warmth you felt at the initial compliment was thoroughly snuffed out at the remainder of the comment. Though you once more felt like crying, you schooled your features into indifference as you turned away from him, only looking straight ahead.

“I did not know you disliked them so,” you muttered, removing your arm from his and clasping your hands in front of you. You fixed your gaze straight ahead and did not waver. “I will not wear them again.”

Aemond stilled, but you did not break your stride. You only knew he followed after a moment when you heard the soft sounds of his boots against stone.

You walked in silence until you reached your door, then turned back to him. “Is there anything you require of me tonight, husband?”

He wore that expression of hurt that caused your chest to tighten, but you did not allow yourself to react. Finally, after a long moment, he licked his lips and shook his head once.

That was all the dismissal you needed. You opened your door just enough to slip through and shut it firmly behind you.

You did not speak to your maids as they prepared you for bed until they presented you with one of your favourite cotton nightgowns and your robe.

“Not those,” you whispered, though you longed for their comfort and warmth. “Something else. Anything else.”

They dressed you in one of the thin silk nightdresses, one which matched the colour of the dress you just removed. Though it was soft and luxurious against your skin, as you settled beneath your covers, you felt cold.

In the hall, Aemond took a stumbling step forward to rest his forehead against your door, his hand resting on the handle but not moving. He stayed like that for many long moments, silently cursing himself, before he stepped away and retreated to his own chambers.

The following day, you woke still feeling tired. It had been hard to find sleep when you felt so cold. When curling into yourself still did not warm you, you rose from the bed and stalked to your dressing room, determined to find your more comfortable nightclothes.

But the moment you ran your hand over the well-worn brocade of your robe, Aemond’s words again echoed in your mind.

He was right. It was not flattering. Your father had it made when you were younger, and he had obviously expected you to grow as large and tall as your brothers. But you had not, and the robe still overwhelmed your frame.

Your maids had offered to take it in to make it fit better, but you had denied them. You liked the way you could disappear into it, how it could double as a blanket, the way it streamed behind you as you ran through the halls of your father’s keep.

It was familiar – it was home.

Now Aemond had ruined it, as he had your dreams of a happy marriage.

Reluctantly, you rang the bell for your maids, apologising for the late hour, and asked for another blanket.

But worse than the aching in your bones and the heaviness of your head was the sinking feeling in your stomach when your maids told you that Aemond had sent word asking you to come watch him fight in the training yard.

No reason was given. Why would there be? A man did not need a reason to summon his wife.

You wanted to ignore the request. With Orwyle’s orders that you should rest, you easily could. Yet you could not deny the sinful part of you that remembered how you felt watching him train only days ago.

With his sword in hand, Aemond was a different man. He was graceful and confident – the Prince you imagined when you first heard of your betrothal. The sight of him had lit the smouldering fire of desire within you, shameful as it was.

Despite your prayers, the memory of his seeming indifference, and his more recent insults, you could not deny you wanted to see that man again.

So, you once again donned your warmest cloak – only after confirming with your maids countless times that it was flattering – and headed to the training yard.

Aemond was not in the ring when you arrived but sulking by a table full of weapons. His arms were crossed tightly in front of him, and though he faced the ring, he was not truly focused on the fight. He looked as distant as he did on your wedding night, just before he asked you to get in the bed.

That is until one of the Kingsguard – the Dornish one – pointed to you on the ramparts, and he looked to you.

You braced for another grimace, but it did not come. Were it not for the slight, almost hopeful raise of his brows, you would think him completely indifferent.

He turned back to the weapons table, quickly selecting a longsword and walking to the ring, barking an order that immediately disbanded the current melee. You watched him jump up and down, stretching and shaking his limbs to prepare for his own fight.

The Kingsguard stepped into the ring with him, wielding a large morningstar. The sight of the fearsome weapon sent a shiver of fear through your veins, but you quickly brushed it aside in favour of a small surge of pride.

You had seen Aemond fight. Surely success would come easily.

Though perhaps not.

At the first strike of the Morningstar, Aemond fell to one knee as his shield shattered. You startled, prompting the old Lord to your side to set a hand on your back and whisper his assurances.

“The Prince is a fine warrior,” he said, “a single strike will not fell him.”

But it was not only the one strike.

Over and over, the Kingsguard’s weapon struck, Aemond only barely avoiding it each time.

Once, after Aemond was forced to concede several steps back, the Kingsguard let his offensive stance fall and whispered something. Your husband only growled back at him, loud enough for you to hear from where you watched. Though even in the ferocity of his new advance, he fumbled through his strikes.

This was not the man you watched in the training yard before. However, there were hints of him, sometimes – a graceful swing of the sword, the agile avoidance of an incoming strike, or a strong blocking with his shield (which was replaced several times).

Though those glimpses were few, they were enough to light that fire once more as each one sent that tingling down your spine.

You even considered going down into the yard when the fight was over and asking him to take you back to your chambers.

The idea when quickly squashed when the fight ended badly.

A powerful blow from the morningstar sent Aemond backwards into the dirt. He only barely hung onto his sword. The Kingsguard dropped his weapon and approached the Prince with his hand outstretched.

Aemond did not accept it. Instead, he swatted the knight aside as he stood, driving his sword point-first into the dirt. Then, after whispering something you could not hear but could tell by the fury in his eyes was harsh and likely cruel, he turned and left the training yard.

Without a single glance your way.

Aemond did not attend the family meal that evening. He could not bear to face his wife after such a mortifying display.

Seeing her disappointment would break him, he was sure. Though worse was the possibility that she may laugh at him – mock him, as he had unintentionally mocked her.

Gods, he had not fought so poorly since he was a mere boy and had not yet been allowed to wield real steel. Perhaps the next day, Cole would give him his wooden practice sword back. He would deserve it, for both his abysmal performance and his arrogance.

When Lord Wylde suggested he invite her to ‘witness his martial prowess,’ he had let himself fall victim to Aegon’s flattery and his own vanity. And the gods had seen fit to punish him for it.

He would beg their forgiveness later. After he committed another sin. One he had been indulging in far too often of late.

Though his body – already sore from the fight – protested every movement, Aemond removed all his clothes. All the while, he tried not to think about the wrongness of what he was about to do or how much he had embarrassed himself, but about his wife.

How beautiful she had looked on the ramparts. How her hair floated so gracefully in the wind. How the colour of her cloak brought out a delightful sparkle in her eyes. How she had jumped each time Cole landed a blow.

That she cared whether he lived or died should not make his heart flutter as it did, but he would take whatever she would give him, even if it was the barest of affection.

When he was naked and laid himself across his bed, his cock was suitably hard and leaking. Still, he reached for the small phial of oil Aegon gave him when he suggested he ‘practice building his stamina.’

“It is a sin,” Aemond had hissed, horrified by the mere suggestion.

Aegon only shrugged. “So is killing. But we do so in war without fearing the wrath of the gods. Why? Because it is in pursuit of a noble goal. I would say making your wife c… happy and satisfied is a noble goal, wouldn’t you?”

It was an impressive logic – for Aegon. Still, Aemond went to the Sept each morning to ask the gods for forgiveness.

And each night, like now, he practised.

After depositing a droplet of oil into his palm, he took hold of his cock and began to slowly stroke himself.

It was nothing like being in his wife. No matter what he did, he could not replicate that wonderful feeling. So he quickly stopped trying.

Instead, he pumped himself hard and fast, trying to get to the edge of his peak as quickly as he could – and then stopped. He curled his hand into a fist at his side as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting a few agonising moments before resuming at a slower pace.

The only thing that made that waiting bearable was assuring himself what it would lead to – or what he hoped it would lead to.

He pictured his wife as she had been when he was touching her. How she had come so close to giving herself over to pleasure.

He hoped she would not ask him to stop the next time. Instead, she would let him touch her until she came. She would let him taste her, something he had never considered before Aegon told him of it, but which he now craved like a man lost in the desert craved water. She would beg him to fuck her, to once again brush his cock against that spot inside her, over and over until they both came apart.

And he would gladly obey. He would do anything she asked – if she only would.

Aemond brought himself almost to coming over and over until his stones ached from being denied so long. Only then did he allow himself release, spilling across his stomach with his wife’s name on his lips.

The dinner felt unbearably strange without Aemond beside you. No excuses for his absence were given; it was apparently not a subject anyone else was curious about.

So, you ate your food, spoke when you were spoken to, and excused yourself the moment you were done eating.

Though he had never much talked to you at meals, his presence was still somehow missed. You missed the touch of his hand as he helped you into your seat, the low timbre of his voice when he answered a question from his mother or grandsire, and the warmth of his gaze whenever you caught him looking at you.

You missed all those little joys, which you only then realised were indeed joys, so much that you would gladly endure his insults and criticism if it only meant he was there. Besides, you liked how he had gawked in the library when you mocked him in return. That could become a fun little game…

As you left the dining hall, thinking about how he had smiled at you the night before, you found yourself turning not for your own chambers, but for his.

Perhaps he was hurt from his fall, and that was why he was not there. Surely, it was only concern for his health that had you turning this way, nothing more.

But then you took another step forward, and you knew.

You desired him.

The shock and shame of it had you immediately retreating to your own rooms.

You quickly had your maids prepare you for bed, dressing in another silk slip of a nightdress before sending them away and curling beneath your blankets.

Soon, your own heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. The godsdamned crickets had gone silent again, wishing for you to hear every shameful thought you had clearly.

You thought of the strength he had shown in holding off the Kingsguard’s attacks. The strength you had seen in the tautness of his muscles as he hovered over you. As he used those hands that so skillfully wielded a sword to bring you pleasure.

Your legs squeezed together of their own accord at the thought, and you became all too aware of a wetness between your thighs – the wetness he had once coaxed out of you with his gentle touch.

Spreading your legs and trying not to think about the sin of what you were doing, you slowly raised the hem of your nightdress and slid your hand over your folds.

Where Aemond’s fingers were warm, yours were cold. You rubbed your hand over your thigh momentarily, remembering him doing the same thing, before touching yourself again.

This part of you was unfamiliar, and you fumbled around more than Aemond had that first night.

You found your entrance first but shied away from slipping a finger inside. Somehow, that felt too wrong, too much of a sin.

But that was not the only place Aemond had touched that brought you pleasure.

Following the same line his thumb had taken, you searched from that little spot that had sent lightning through you.

It took some time, but you found it.

Though, no matter how fast you moved your finger or how hard you pressed, your own touch did not bring you nearly as much pleasure as Aemond’s had. Finally, after many long minutes, your attempts were causing far more frustration than anything else, and you ripped your hand away from your sex.

You nearly cried when you saw your fingers glistening – with bright red blood.

Your moon’s blood was here.

You were not pregnant.

The next morning, you immediately sent for raspberry tea to soothe the aching that had already taken hold in your abdomen and did not get out of bed until it had arrived and you had drunk two cups full.

Then, you wished you had not gotten out of bed at all. There was another note from your husband – he wanted to meet you for a walk in the gardens.

At least it meant he was not hurt. But to face him after what you had done, or tried to do…

A good wife did not do what you did. A good wife would have gone to his chambers and made sure he was well, would have let him take comfort in you.

Gods, you should have done so. You wished so badly that you had done so.

You could not change what you did, but you could be a good wife from this point on – you would be.

So, despite your pains, you dressed and headed for the gardens, where his note said he would be waiting for you all morning.

You spent the entire walk through the castle praying. To the Father for forgiveness for your sin. To the Mother for forgiveness for failing your husband and to beg that his seed quickened the next time. To the Crone for the wisdom to be a good wife – again, as the same prayer had obviously not worked the first time. To the Warrior, for the courage you would need to face Aemond. To the Smith, to repair what had been broken between you. And to the Stranger for whatever you had forgotten to include in your prayers to the others.

Truly, you needed the blessing of each of the Seven.

It was only by clutching the Seven-Pointed Star pendant until your fingers hurt that you did not collapse at the sight of Aemond.

He looked ethereally beautiful in the morning light. The soft sunlight streaming through the few leaves that still remained on the trees set his hair aglow, like he was touched by the gods themselves. Indeed, they must have been tempting your devotion to your promise. Why else would they make him appear so tempting?

You swallowed thickly, grateful you had approached him from the left, so he would not see you gawking. Then, once you had regained your composure, thanks in no small part to a new wave of pain in your belly overwhelming any desire, you stepped forward and curtsied.

“Husband,” you greeted with as much sweetness in your voice as you could muster, “thank you for the invitation to join you today.”

Aemond stood from the bench and bowed back to you, even though protocol did not require it. “Thank you for coming,” he said with a shy smile. “I was worried that… you might not.”

“It would be improper for a wife to deny her husband’s wishes,” you replied.

Dutiful. Polite. A good wife.

But Aemond’s smile fell. “I hope you do not feel you had to come here just because I asked,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze. “I hope that you wanted to come.”

You found yourself almost smiling at him, at the sentiment he offered. Then, nodding, you stepped forward and awkwardly held your hand out for a moment before returning it to your side. “I have not yet had the chance to see the gardens. Will you show me?”

He looked as though you had just offered him a kingdom and held out his arm for you to take.

Despite the heat radiating off him, you shivered as you looped your arm through his, and he began to lead you down the flagstone path.

You walked in silence for a while, but it was not as heavy or uncomfortable as before. There was only the faintest hint of tension between you, the rest replaced by a kind of contentment – unfamiliar but pleasant.

Aemond only spoke to name some of the plants you saw. How he knew exactly which ones you could not identify yourself, you did not know. He just… knew.

You stopped in front of the gnarled trunk of a wisteria vine. It was not in bloom, and most of its leaves had fallen, but it was still beautiful in its bareness.

“It is wisteria,” Aemond said after a moment, pointing with a finger to trace its path from its roots to the very ends of the vine some twenty feet away on a trellis. “At the end of spring, it will produce hanging blooms that are a lovely shade of purple.”

You looked up at him, at his one eye and its lovely shade of purple – the colour of wisteria, you realised.

Before you knew it, you were smiling so wide it hurt your cheeks. “I know,” you replied, your voice almost a laugh. “It is one of my favourites.”

Feeling yourself begin to blush furiously, you turned back toward the plant. “There was one even larger than this right outside my window at my father’s keep.”

Aemond did not – could not – respond. You had just smiled at him, and it was more beautiful than he had ever imagined.

You walked through the gardens on Aemond’s arm until you had seen every plant, every flower, every leaf. It was the happiest you had been since arriving in King’s Landing, and indeed in many years before.

But it could not last forever. While you were merely a wife, Aemond was a Prince. He had duties far more important than walking with his wife. So, when he mentioned the hour was growing late, you did not ask him to stay.

You merely removed your arm from his, bowed your head, and whispered your farewell. As a good wife does.

Yet Aemond remained in front of you, the look in his eye so intense you had to turn away.

“May I come to your chambers tonight?” he asked, his voice small but firm.

Your chest tightened.

You wanted to say yes – to kiss him and feel his touch once more. But…

“My moon’s blood arrived today,” you told him quickly before the fear in your gut could still your tongue.

Until he made that request, you had been enjoying the time spent with your husband so dearly that you had nearly forgotten the pain in your belly, the undeniable proof of your failure to produce an heir.

Your failure to be a good wife.

As tears sprang to your eyes, you watched his face twist with confusion, then crumple with despair, and finally, freeze into an expression you could not name.

Once more, he felt like a mystery to you – a stranger. Had you really come to know him so well, to care for him enough that even a single unknown expression could cause you this much pain?

You must have, for the pain in your empty womb was nothing compared to that which now took hold of your heart.

He looked to the flagstones below you, his mouth starting and failing to find words. “I…” he began, then stopped.

“Aemond?” you asked, desperate now for him to say anything, even if it was to call you stupid again.

Your mind was so clouded by fear at what he may say next that you did not realise it was the first time you had called him by his name since the wedding ceremony.

His eye met yours again, and he raised his brows. “Thank you for the walk.”

And then he left. Again.

To your credit, you did not cry until you were back in your rooms.

You did not go to dinner that night or even eat the meal that was brought to your rooms.

You only prayed and cried and prayed some more. Until you fell asleep on the couch in your sitting room.

After waking in the dark at some point in the night, with a blanket over your shoulders. You knew you should move to the bed, or you would be sore in the morning. But whatever you did, you would be sore for at least a few more days. So, you stayed on the couch.

For a while, you watched the door, hoping that Aemond would walk through and throw himself at your feet as he begged your forgiveness. And despite your better judgment, you would give it to him without hesitation.

But he did not come.

Eventually, you fell asleep again.

When you woke once more, you were indeed sore. But it was quickly forgotten when you saw something unfamiliar on the table before you – a leather-bound journal and a folded note with your name written on it in beautiful script.

Curious but cautious, you only grabbed the note before settling back into your seat to read it:

My dearest wife,

Forgive me for not coming to you myself to apologise, but given the way I acted the last time I did so, I believe you will prefer this.

I am so very sorry that my behaviour towards you has been utterly abhorrent. Please know that my stumbling words and foolish actions come not from a place of malice or even indifference. Rather, they are an attempt by a stupid and incompetent man to try and impress his wife.

There is nothing in the world that I desire so much as to see you happy. Nothing I wish for more than to see your smile and, if the gods bless me, to be the reason for it.

For my love, when you smiled at me yesterday – I have never felt anything so wonderful.

But as the past weeks have shown, I fear I am incapable of presenting myself with dignity when I am in your presence. Your beauty, kindness, and pure goodness overwhelm me the moment I see you, and all my good sense abandons me. No matter my intentions, nor the poetry I compose in my mind prior to coming to you, the very moment I am with you, I become little more than a bumbling idiot, unable to even say ‘hello’ without somehow offending or upsetting you.

So, I will no longer try. I know I have caused you much more discomfort than anything, and it pains me beyond measure. Already, I have begged the Seven for their forgiveness, and now I beg yours.

If you do not wish to give it, I will understand. I will accept whatever you decide and act accordingly. If you wish to not see me again, I will disappear. But I would be doing you a disservice as your husband if I did not at least share with you the depth of my feelings before we are parted – if that is indeed what you desire, though I hope it is not.

I am all too aware that if I tried to do this myself, I would say some ridiculous thing to make you hate me forever. That is, I admit, my greatest fear. So, I have asked the servants to deliver you this note, along with my diary. I know you keep your own, for I have seen it in your chambers. Therefore, you know that what you will read is not merely words, but the truths of my very soul.

Please know that I am not afraid to share it with you. As my wife, you are entitled to know everything about me. But more than that, I want you to. I want you to see all that I am, to know me as well as the gods themselves. I pray that what you will learn will not frighten or upset you but show you the man I so wish to be. The man I would be, if you allow me.

I pray you will like him, perhaps even learn to love him. For he loves you so very, very much.

I have marked the passages I most want you to read, but you have my permission to read everything. I will not hide anything from you, not anymore.

With all my love, more than you know,

Your husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen

As you lowered the note, now stained with several of your tears, you looked at the journal – the diary – on the table. It contained the truth of your husband, the man who had confused and angered you, delighted and amazed you.

It was a truth that, once you knew it, would change you forever.

But you had already been changed, hadn’t you? Irrevocably. The only thing the diary would change was whether it was for the better or for the worse.

So, after one last prayer, you set Aemond’s note back on the table, picked up the diary, and began to read.

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