#they all were king or something alike | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinner-as-saint · 7 months

Text

not without you

Viking Chief!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Run-through: You’re a powerful witch, famous and respected for your mastery of magic and ability to control the elements. Naturally, people always need you. Vikings, kings, and common men alike, be it to magically save dying crops, help them win battles, or to protect their people by manipulating the weather. One day, a certain blue-eyed Viking chief asks for your help. Bucky Barnes – one of the strongest, most feared of his kind, known for his ruthlessness and brutal nature. He offers your wandering self shelter and protection in return for your help in keeping his people and crops alive and well with the harsh winter approaching fast. And you can’t seem to refuse his offer…

Themes: witch!reader, viking chief!bucky, smut, fluff, mild knife kink, cosy winter vibes, metal arm, tatted!bucky, possessive!bucky, slight angst, HEA,

a/n: thank you for 28k. I love you.

The wind whispered that he was on his way to you.

By the time the Chief and his men made their way to your makeshift shack on the edge of the woods, you were already out waiting for them.

Hidden under your billowy cloak, with the hood hiding most of your face, you stood and faced the men with confidence. You couldn’t see them, given the hood, but you sensed the way the Chief got off of his horse, clutching his sword in hand as he took a step. Not in fear, no. But in that arrogant way you’d expect a Chief to move.

“Witch.” He greeted you. It was the only way he could greet you anyway, nobody knew your name.

You smirked. Finally peeling your hood off your head. You gave him a brief nod, “Chief.” You looked him right in those ocean blue eyes of his and judging by the look in them, you could tell he wasn’t used to people maintaining eye contact with him. He was an important man after all, and most people feared him.

But your magic had a way of reading people for you and… there was nothing to be afraid of. Not of him. He did look every bit of the fearsome viking he was known as though. Thick furs couldn’t hide the tall, muscular body. His shoulder length brown hair braided in some places. His handsome face was serious, like he rarely smiled. And all that ink all over his neck, and arm – just one arm because the other one was made of pure metal.

You had heard stories of how he’d lost his arm in battle, and how a great, benevolent king – also a close friend of his – had the metal arm constructed for him.

But above all else, the Chief was devastatingly handsome. You’d known, courted, and befriended quite some men. Hunters. Lords. Warlocks. Princes. Kings. Yet none were quite as devastatingly handsome as the Chief.

You quickly looked behind him and saw two men standing taller and prouder than the rest of the warriors. The wind whispered their names to you. Sam. Steve. Both were just as handsome as their Chief, however there was something about the male standing in front of you with a sword in hand. Thick white fur wrapped around his shoulders. Clear, icy blue eyes. Pink mouth. The cold made his cheeks and nose red.

“We heard rumours that you were close to our village, and we’ve come to ask for your help.” The Chief said, gracefully, calmly.

You gave him a nod. “I know.” You said quietly. “The north wind brings news that this winter will be exceptionally harsh.”

Bucky gave you that look that most people gave you when they figured out that your magic was indeed real. He was just a little surprised, but composed himself. “We desperately need your help.” He spoke again.

You agreed to help of course. This was your purpose with the magic you had.

And since you had little to pack, you went with them immediately. They didn’t bring an extra horse so you rode with the handsome Chief back to his village where you would be spending the entirety of the coming winter.

You never asked for anything in exchange. Some witches did, most of them did not. Mainly because you never needed anything, you had magic and you could conjure anything you wanted out of nothing. But you liked having company of people. So you considered that payment.

And after spending months on your own, you were looking forward to meeting new people, helping them.

During the ride back to the village you’d be calling home for the coming months, you felt the Chief tense behind you. His muscular arms circled around you as he held the reins but he was respectful enough to keep a few inches between you and him. You could only assume how much stress he was putting on his back to keep him from slouching forward.

You hid your smile as you sensed that he was nervous. “You don’t have to be so tense.” You said, turning your head to the side a little. “Witches don’t bite.” You spoke quietly so that the men behind you wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t…” He let out a huff of warm air. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

You smirked, but he couldn’t see it. “I’m just saying, you could use the warmth.”

He didn’t know what you meant until he slowly inched closer, his chest pressing against your back. Even with the multiple layers separating the two of you, your body heat wrapped around him in a way that had him sighing in relief.

Without another word said, his metal arm wrapped around your middle as he pulled you against him even more. You smiled as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You’re very warm.” He sounded a little surprised. His deep, gravelly voice making you shiver despite the warmth.

“Magic, remember?”

He hummed in response, keeping his arm loosely around your waist as he took you to his village. The tension between you two felt electric.

—

The ride wasn’t too long, and soon you arrived at the village. It was larger than you had imagined. Busier, but tidier.

Once you got past the tall, wooden palisades you could see more of the daily activities. Hunters sharpening their weapons, warriors training, children running around. You spotted the vast crops, the rivers.

There was so much you couldn’t see, but the elements spoke to you. You knew there was a lake here somewhere. The Chief’s hall was beyond the wooden houses which were scattered all over. You knew there were people gathered somewhere near the beach, working on building a new boat. Multiple boats in fact.

“Welcome to my home.” The Chief whispered as he led you deeper into the village.

Judging by the relieved smiles on people’s faces as they spotted you, you knew they were aware that you were here to help them. You smiled back to as many as you could on your way to the main area, in the middle of the village.

The Chief helped you off the horse and when you thanked him he said, “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

You gave me a smile, “Alright, Bucky.”

He nodded, then pointed at a wooden house, not far from his residence, and said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

One of the ladies was beside you immediately, saying she wanted to help you get settled in. So with one last glance at Bucky, you made your way to your new, temporary home.

–

The moment he walked into his home, sighing in relief at the feeling of warmth, his two best friends rushed in after him, grinning like they were up to no good. Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam and Steve as he poured wine into three cups.

“What?” He barked at them, handing them their cups before he sat on one of the few stairs that led to his seat. The one he sat on when he had to act as Chief. But when he was with his friends, he didn’t like sitting on it.

“Are we going to address the heated looks you and the witch have been sharing or are we going to pretend nothing’s happening here?” Sam teased, leaning against a nearby table.

Steve chuckled, sitting down near the fire in the middle of the room. “Yeah Chief, what’s going on?”

Bucky glared at them both. He loved them to death, would die and kill for them in a heartbeat. But gods, they could be so annoying. “Enough,” He grumbled as they both laughed shamelessly at him, “She’s our guest. Most of all, we need her to survive this winter. Be respectful.”

Sam smirked and said, “Is that what that was on the ride back? The two of you as close as lovers? Was that you being respectful?”

Steve’s laughter echoed around the hall. Bucky wanted to chuck his cup at both of them but he didn’t want to waste the wine so he just rolled his eyes again, “Get out both of you.”

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve spoke up, “With her as your wife we would be unstoppable.”

Sam nodded, “Exactly.”

“Both of you, shut up.”

“I mean, she is beautiful. If you’re not interested, I might check out what else her magic can do when-,” Steve stopped talking the moment Bucky threw his cup at him, wine and all.

Sam choked on his drink and laughed even harder.

Shortly after, Bucky kicked both of them out of his home. He was surprised at how it suddenly got hard to breathe or think the moment Steve even jokingly hinted at getting intimate with you. Bucky felt so protective over you despite having met you just hours ago.

He just wished he could keep that under control for the coming months. You were his guest after all. He couldn’t be inappropriate.

—

He couldn’t sleep that night. The village was quiet, dark. The night was cold given winter was approaching really fast. The next day, he had plans to give you a tour of the village and thinking about spending hours with you was making him nervous. But in a good way. Gods, he was turning into a little boy with a crush. This was bad for his image.

He couldn’t sleep, so he figured a walk might tire him out. So he layered up in his favourite furs, grabbed a torch and stepped outside. It was dark, save for the moonlight. And also light coming from your temporary home.

Bucky was walking towards the wooden house before he even realised it. His hand was knocking against the door before he could talk himself out of it. He should let you rest. He should act like a grown up and walk away right now. Being Chief he should–

He stopped functioning the moment you opened the door and looked up at him. Dressed in a beige night dress, a woollen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the dimmed light of the torches made you look ethereal just standing there at the door.

You spoke first, “Bucky.” You didn’t sound surprised. You knew he was coming over the moment he stepped out of his home. “It’s rather late, is something wrong?” You couldn’t help but ask. You knew he was coming over, but you didn’t know why. Your magic, fortunately, didn’t allow you to read minds.

Bucky placed the torch on the sconce by the door and cleared his throat, standing proud and tall like one would expect him to. “I saw your lights were still on. I couldn’t help but worry so I… uh, came to check.” He paused, awkwardly. “Do you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

You sensed his slight nervousness even without using your magic. You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him, “I’m very comfortable. Your people were kind enough to–” You stopped, noticing how foggy his breaths were, “Please come in,” You opened the door wider, “It’s cold out.”

Bucky accepted the invitation. As soon as he stepped in, you placed your hand on his chest. Bucky blinked and in the fraction of a second, he felt comfortably warm. He gave you a thankful smile.

You smirked playfully and whispered, “Magic.” Then you moved towards the makeshift kitchen, “Tea?”

Bucky grimaced and said, “I don’t like that bitter stuff.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

You chuckled, “I bet you will like this one.” You went ahead and made him chamomile tea, with warm milk and a generous dollop of honey.

By the time you brought the mug to him, you found him bent over your little desk. He was looking down at the map you were currently making, your special black ink on special parchment paper.

Bucky whispered his thanks as he took the mug, then said, “You’re making a map of the village?” He sounded both amazed and confused. “No one has been able to make one this accurate. You haven’t even… “ He paused, “Of course,” He smirked, “Magic.”

You smiled. “Maps help me control my spells better. It’s enchanted parchment you see,” You pointed at the map, “I can even work from here with the help of the map.” You looked back up at him and saw the look of delight on his face as he took his first sip of the tea.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You laced this with magic as well?”

You giggled, “No, just milk and honey.”

Bucky just stared at you with soft eyes. In the dim, golden lights his eyes twinkled like that of a wolf. You stared into them, neither of you spoke. Until he finally blinked, pointed at the map and said, “It must be incredible, being this talented.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle in a self-deprecating way. “Talent.” You repeated, looking down at the map. Then quietly said, “I was always taught and told that my magic was a great weapon. But thank you, I guess.”

Without another word said, Bucky placed his half empty mug down and grabbed both of your hands in his large, warm ones. He tugged you closer, gently. Just the slightest bit so he could have your undivided attention.

“You’re not a weapon. You won’t ever be one, not here.” He said, softly. Slowly. “You are our salvation.”

You had been repaid in many ways throughout your life. Chests filled with gold. Jewels. Feasts and balls thrown in your name. Even a few marriage proposals from influential families. But no one had ever told you that you were their salvation. Something about Bucky saying it, even before you got him and his people through the winter, made you tear up just a little.

His face softened as he wiped that tear away from your cheek with his slightly cold metal arm. “I mean it.” He whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “You are so beautiful.” Then a little closer to your mouth. “So warm.” Then finally pressed his lips against yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and pressing you against the soft furs he was wearing.

You couldn’t help but moan quietly into the kiss. That made him growl, made him deepen the kiss. His warm hand cradled your face as his metal arm wrapped around your waist. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his kiss was gentle. Sensual. Your hands wandered over his chest. You could feel his heart racing. You could feel him breathing deeper, but refusing to break the kiss.

You gasped in pleasure when his mouth left your lips briefly to kiss along your jaw, making your heart flutter in anticipation. But then, he stopped and pulled away. He was breathless, frowning, his lips wet and pink.

“I… I shouldn’t.” He licked his lips and you almost moaned again. “You’re…” He took a deep breath. “You’re my guest. And you only just got here.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in himself. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like an animal like that.”

You fixed the blanket around your shoulders, giving him a playful, though disappointed, smile. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but no one even mentioned you were such a proper gentleman.”

Bucky cleared his throat, then gave you a heated look that screamed that if he didn’t get out of here right this instant he would surely be pouncing on you again. “I should go.” He mumbled. “Thank you for the tea.”

You nodded, “You’re very welcome. I will see you tomorrow, for the tour?”

He nodded. Then as he turned to leave, he paused. He turned back around and unwrapped the thick white fur from around his shoulders and placed it on your desk. The tunic he wore was loose around his neck so you could see the ink on his skin peaking through. “Keep this,” He said, “you might need it for tomorrow.”

You smirked, understanding what he was playing at. He knew you could keep yourself warm. But he just wanted you to wear something of his while he showed you around tomorrow. He wanted everyone to see you wearing something of his. You had heard of vikings being territorial, and truthfully, you didn’t mind this one bit.

You played along, pretending to be oblivious. “Won’t you be cold then?”

As he stepped out of the door, he turned to look at you. Smirked and said, “I think your magic will keep me warm enough.”

You chuckled as he shut the door behind him, took his torch and left. Who knew the Chief would be such a flirt?

—

Bucky had never been this excited to give someone a tour of his village. He was at your door the next morning, early and ready. He knew you already had a map, but he wanted you to see the place properly.

You caught the approval in his smile when he saw you wearing the fur he left you as you stepped out to join him. He was wearing black furs, and looked just as majestic.

“My people are delighted that you’re here to save us from the winter,” He said as the two of you began walking towards the centre of the village, the busiest part he told you. “So expect a lot of gifts along the way.”

You didn’t know what to expect. And even after politely refusing many, many tokens of thanks from his people, you already had baskets filled with cheese, berries, fresh bread and you were even done with the tour yet. Bucky, of course, carried the baskets for you.

He was in a good mood, you realised. He was showing off a little as he gave you the tour. Showing you all the new warehouses, the new boats that were being built near the beaches, the new houses being made as the number of people grew.

He showed you the hall where himself, Steve, and Sam often trained young kids. They taught them how to fight, to defend. They’re vikings, they need to be ready, he said, for anything and everything.

He had a glow on his face as he spoke about the kids, and you couldn’t help but ask, “How come you don’t have any?”

Bucky gave you a faint smile. Then said, “After my father died, I had to take care of everything around here. And I guess I never had time.” He paused, “I also never found the right person.”

You turned to look at him and he was looking the other way, surely hiding a smirk. You decided to drop the subject.

Bucky led you deeper into the village, near the lake. “It looks incredible in the summer, but–,” He stopped talking once the two of you heard male voices shouting. It sounded like it was coming from the lake.

You followed Bucky as he rushed to the lakeside and let out a groan. You chuckled once you saw what he was looking at. His two friends, Steve and Sam, arguing in the water about who pushed who first.

Bucky sighed and said, “I apologise, I wish these two would act like adults.” Then he yelled at them, “Hey! Stop trying to make me look bad. And get out of the water both of you, I can’t have you both freeze to death!”

You watched how the two of them swam towards the shore and eventually got out, trembling.

“Gods, I hate you.” Sam said, shivering.

“You pushed me!” Steve argued, shoving Sam.

Sam shoved him back, “You pushed me!”

“Enough!” Bucky turned to you and said, “My useless friends,” He introduced, “I wish you would’ve met them in more normal circumstances.”

You laughed, then walked up to the two men. “Hello,” You said and placed your hands on each of their shoulders, your magic would keep them from shivering. And the moment you touched them, they both sighed in relief. “There, that should keep you warm until you get home.”

You couldn’t help but check them out. They were both muscular and fit, and the way the wet tunics clung to their bodies… their muscular torsos, and biceps bigger than–

Bucky cleared his throat and you quickly looked away. You were almost certain Sam and Steve were smirking as they mumbled their goodbyes and hurried home.

“We should get back.” Bucky said, his mood immediately turning sour.

When the two of you did head back, he walked you to your home, handed you your baskets full of food and gifts, whispered a brief goodbye and left. You had planned that you would ask him to join you for dinner, as a way of thanking him for the tour. But he was just so grumpy on the way back that you decided not to.

But then you were restless the whole evening. You made yourself a quick dinner and sat by the fire to read but something didn’t feel right.

As it got later, the village got more and more quiet. And dark. When the wolves began howling you knew it was very late, but as you looked through the window, you saw that the lights inside Bucky’s home were still lit.

He was awake.

You debated walking over to his place, but then decided not to. You had to get to work the next day and surely you’d get a chance to talk to him then.

—

You visited the crops first, drawing your runes in the dirt. That’s where you ran into Steve and Sam. They wished to introduce themselves properly, and the three of you began talking. They showed you around for a little while, making you laugh at their jokes and stories of their childhood.

They kept you company while you worked and at some point, you sensed that someone was watching you. You knew who it was before you even turned around.

There was Bucky standing, proud and tall, quite far from the crops. The same broody expression on his face as the day before.

You almost lifted your hand to wave at him but then he walked away.

“We better leave,” Steve said with a mischievous smile.

“I’m afraid if the Chief sees us around you again he might behead us in public.” Sam winked at you and then walked away.

So Bucky was jealous.

After you were done with the crops, as you made your way home in the afternoon, you ran in Bucky in the village centre. He was on his way home as well, you realised, so you walked a little faster until you caught up to him.

Once you were beside him, you said, “Hello, Bucky.”

“Hello.” He mumbled.

“I worked at the crops today, I drew my runes.” You told him.

“I know, I saw you earlier.” He said.

His voice held enough distaste that you couldn’t help but ask calmly, “Why are you angry at me?”

He threw you a look and mumbled grumpily, “I’m not angry. I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

"Then why won't you talk to me?" You asked. "You look like you're angry." You paused, then asked, "Is it because I was talking to your friends?"

He stopped walking immediately. Turned to face you and said, "What were the three of you talking about anyway?"

You had to hide a smirk as you answered, "Nothing in particular. They were just keeping me company." Seeing he still had that broody look on his face you asked, “Does that bother you?”

He scoffed. "No." He frowned. "Why would it? You're free to talk to whoever you want, you're our–"

You cut him off, "Guest, yes. I know." You smiled. "Well then, how would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Bucky's bright blue eyes stared at you, an unexplainable expression in them. "Another time." He said much to your surprise.

The rest of the walk back was filled with awkward silence.

That night, you were restless. After a quick dinner, you sat by the fire to read but you couldn’t quite get into it. Then you got up and looked through the window and saw that the lights in Bucky’s home were still on.

Again. He was awake. This time you didn’t think twice before putting your cloak on and walking to his front door. It was so quiet that you could hear the knocks echoing. Two knocks later, Bucky opened the door.

His braids were undone, yet he looked just as handsome. “It’s late.” He said.

“Also very cold, you should let me in.” You said.

Bucky opened the door wider, letting you in before shutting the door.

You walked into his home and took it all in. The place smelled like him, and a little smoky. Probably due to the fire that burned in the middle, keeping the place nice and warm. You saw his seat. His swords and weapons hung on the walls, along with artworks. Furs and rugs scattered on the floor, the place was cosy.

“Nice place.” You commented as you turned to face him. You found him leaning against a nearby wooden column, with a drink in hand.

He gave you a curious look. “Surely you didn’t walk all the way here to comment on my home.” He said. He looked good. The dim light from the torches made him look like a god. Long brown hair, pretty blue eyes. His tunic was loose now, showing a lot of the ink on his skin. His metal arm caught the light a few times, shining occasionally when he moved.

You felt your heartbeats echoing louder in your ears the more you looked at him. And then… then he had the audacity to slowly lick his lips.

That did it. You walked up to him, carefully took the cup from his hand and brought it to your lips. You held his stare the whole time. You took a careful sip because whatever it was, it was very strong. Then said, “No, no I didn’t.”

Bucky gave you a heated look. One that was familiar from the other night when he kissed you. “You know, it’s rude to snatch someone’s drink. Especially the Chief's.”

You smirked at him. “Do something about it then,” You added mischievously, “Chief.”

“Oh?” Bucky’s metal arm was around your waist in no time, pulling you into his warm, muscular chest. “Now you want my attention?” He taunted, his voice deep, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the smirk on your lips. “What about when you were shamelessly staring at other men right in front of me? Or what about earlier, when you were–”

You cut him off with a chuckle. “Just say you are jealous.” You took another sip from his drink. “And if this is how you treat your guests then I think I can imagine why everyone fears you.”

“I’m not jealous,” He mumbled, nuzzling your cheek. “I just don’t like seeing you with other men.”

You gasped, and almost dropped the cup in surprise as he kissed along your jaw softly, biting you playfully while he’s at it. “So possessive,” You whispered, “We only just met.” You teased.

His grip tightened around your waist before he pulled away to look at you. His blue eyes now dark with desire and longing. “Yet I haven’t been able to think about anything other than wanting to have you all to myself ever since I kissed you that night.” He said.

He looked down at your mouth as he spoke, and it only made your heart race faster. “Bucky…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, you just… wanted. “Please.” You found yourself whispering. Pleading, which you had never done before.

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned, pressing your back into the wooden column he was leaning against earlier. The cup fell to the floor, neither of you paying much attention to it. His metal hand cupped your face and he stared into your eyes as he spoke.

His voice was dangerously low as he spoke, “You must understand, if we do this there’s no going back.” He said, looking down at your parted lips. “If we do this, you’re mine.” He reiterated, “If we do this,” He leaned in to brush his soft lips carefully against yours, making you gasp and whimper, “You belong to me and only me. Are we clear?”

The rasp in his voice and the feral desire lacing his words already made your brain foggy. “Yes,” You whispered, placing the palms of your hands pressing against his warm chest and partially exposed skin.

He wasted no time in undoing your cloak and letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles. Bucky had a devilish smile on his face once he saw that you were wearing nothing beneath the cloak except for flimsy undergarments. Near transparent ones.

Bucky’s eager hand trailed up your body, gently, starting from your thigh all the way to your breasts. The warmth of his hand made you shiver in pleasure. “So this is why you were complaining about being cold?” He whispered in your ear while his hand ran up and down your sides. “I thought you could manipulate elements to keep yourself warm.” Your body felt like it was on fire under his touch.

“Well, I can manipulate the elements.” You said. Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “But there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He smirked at the sight of the look of mischief in your eyes.

Then he gently tugged on the delicate necklace around your neck, toying with the crystal pendant leisurely as if he had all the time in the world. As if he couldn’t see you squirming under his touch, wanting more.

“It’s…” He frowned at the crystal, now holding it between two metal fingers. “It’s moving.” He whispered, and sounded so genuinely confused that it made you smile. Who knew this tall, muscular, godlike man could be adorable?

You nodded, looking at the crystal. It was clear mostly, except for a greyish, dark, flowy mist moving around inside it. It looked like smoke trapped inside the crystal, but it was just energy. “I was given this by my family the day I left my home when I was a young girl. As a gift. For protection.” You explained.

You looked up to find him looking down at you with a heated, wild look in his eyes. “I’m here now,” He said. “I’ll protect you. Always.” He pulled you closer, pressing your barely clothed body against him.

You smiled, sliding your hands up until your fingers slid into his soft hair. The light from the burning torches began to dim, making the room slightly darker but still golden. The smirk on Bucky’s handsome face signalled that he knew you were messing with the torches.

“I want you,” You whispered, pressing your lips to his cheek. The slight stubble felt rough against your mouth. But it only made you wonder where else it would feel rough. And you couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped your mouth.

As if he could read your mind, Bucky chuckled. He grabbed you by the neck, tightening his grip just a little, enough to make you feel warm all over. “I don’t think I could be gentle…” He whispered, his metal hand reaching for the fine dagger he kept on him at all times.

He carefully pressed the tip flat against your lower lip. Your heart began racing faster. Bucky slowly dragged the tip of the dagged down your chin, down the side of your neck, down in between your breasts before he cut the fabric, slicing it in two and letting that fall down to the floor as well. You hissed as the cold air hit your now exposed breasts. Bucky seemed pleased as he let go of your neck, his hand trailing down to fondle with your breast instead. You tipped your head back and moaned at his touch.

He kept the dagger pressed against your skin as he leaned in to kiss your exposed neck, “I don’t want to be gentle.” He said.

You let out a gasp as he slid the tip of the dagger sideways, circling your nipple with it deliberately slow. “Good,” You whispered, “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you’re perfect.” He dragged the tip of the dagger down, sliding it slowly across your abdomen, right above the waistband of your undergarments. Over and over again until you were squirming, and gasping, and grinding on nothing.

“Please,” You said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Bucky held your stare as he slid the dagger under the fabric of your undergarment and sliced that off of you as well. Fuck that sound of fabric tearing off of your body did something to you.

“Please,” You begged again. You were unable to ignore the wetness in between your legs anymore. Neither could he.

Once there was not an inch of fabric shielding you from his hungry stare, Bucky threw the dagger onto the pile of your clothes and next thing you knew, you were being pushed down onto a nearby pile of soft furs.

He pinned you down by your throat, as he hovered above you, leaning over with his metal hand wrapped around your neck firmly while he stared down into your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You gave him a smirk and said, “It’s your turn. I want to see you.” You wanted to see the ink on his skin, trace it with your finger. You wanted to see him naked on these furs with you. You had never longed to touch someone like this before.

Bucky held your stare, arrogant grin on his face as he pulled away to take off his tunic and lower his pants.

You let your eyes feast on him. Ink covered more skin than you thought, but it suited him. He looked every bit the fierce Viking he was. You wanted to take your time and admire the artwork on his body but… later. Right now, you wanted him.

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer, pressing your mouth to his and kissing him deeply. “I want you,” You whispered again.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky’s hand was back around your throat as he growled into the kiss, “I know.”

Guess he could take his time and caress every inch of you like he wanted to later, right now though, he needed to have you. He was hungry for it. So he pulled away from the kiss, parted your legs and slid a finger inside you, reassuring himself that you were ready for him.

Bucky groaned when he found that you were dripping for him. “All that for me?” He teased, settling in between your legs and pressing the tip of his cock against you. You gasped and whined as he slid the tip of it up and down your slit.

“Please,” You begged, whining. “Hurry up or I swear to gods I will make sure your house is always freezing throughout winter.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “No need for all that, little witch.” He whispered as he pushed his cock into you, stretching you out in a way that made it hard for you to even think about anything else.

“Do I feel good inside you?” He questioned, teasing and knowing full well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him. His hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he knew you couldn’t even think straight.

And fuck did he feel good snug inside you. You just whimpered in response, staring up into his pretty blue eyes. “More,” You whispered, “I want more.”

He smirked, digging his knees into the furs before he pulled out and pushed back into you. He set a hard and fast pace that made your head spin with pleasure. He was just as passionate as you expected him to be, his kisses were messy and his grip on your body was tight. He growled and moaned against your mouth as he sped up into you.

You were a moaning mess under him. Your legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, “You feel so good,” He said, “Look at you, all wet and open for me.” He slowed down for just a moment, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust it. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He asked, slow fucking you until you felt a tear escape your eye.

Fuck, he was keeping you right on that edge. It drove you mad.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed along your jaw, nibbling on your skin. “When you walked all the way here tonight, wearing basically nothing as you knocked on my door in the middle of the night,” He chuckled, “Is this what you wanted? To be full of my cock?”

You nodded, more tears falling down. It was so good, almost overwhelming. His words, his deep voice, the heated look in his eyes as he fucked you slowly, his weight on top of you, his warmth…

“Yes,” You whispered, “It’s all I wanted.”

Bucky sped up again, taking you by surprise and you couldn’t help the sinful moans that escaped your lips. He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen instead, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. “Well there you go,” He said, as if taunting you, “Here I am. Deep inside you.” He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “Just how you wanted.”

You whimpered desperately as he fucked you deeper. You felt your walls clenching around him. You felt the familiar feeling, the pressure down there just waiting… waiting to explode. Your back arched off the furs as he brought you right to the edge again before slowing down. It was brutal.

You gasped in shock, and the now ruined orgasm. Bucky smirked. “That’s punishment,” He said, “For talking to other men right in front of me.”

You frowned, “You’re cruel.”

Bucky kissed you one more time before he flipped you around and pulled you onto your knees and pushed into you again from behind. You moaned out loud, not expecting that but welcoming the feeling of being full again.

You laid your cheek down on the furs, the softness of them a stark contrast to how rough Bucky was being, handling your body like you were just a toy. It made you smile in pure bliss as he gripped your hips and slammed in and out of you incessantly, sighing and groaning in the process.

More tears escaped your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle. You felt the pressure at your core forming again as Bucky pounded into you mercilessly, fucking you like an animal. Bending and contorting your body however he liked. Pressing your head down as he sped up into you until you came, crying out loud and clenching around him so hard it took him everything not to finish inside you.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your lower back and thighs. He took a moment to admire all the marks he’d left on your skin before pulling you into his arms as he laid down beside you.

You placed your ear right above his heart, listening to it gradually calm down like yours did. Only then did you have enough energy to keep your eyes open and admire the ink on his skin. You traced the closest one with a finger.

“A dragon?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled softly. “I like to think they might have been real at some point.”

You pulled away, holding yourself up using your elbow. You looked down at Bucky and said, “Of course they were. They were magical beings, they got along well with witches and warlocks in fact.”

Bucky looked pleasantly surprised. “You are so full of secrets.” He said, lifting a finger up to your face and gently traced the shape of your mouth. “Tell me more,” He pulled you back into his arms, nuzzling your neck and making you laugh, “What happened to the dragons?”

—

Sleeping in each other’s beds became part of the routine.

Some nights he would come over after the village had gone dark and quiet. Other nights you’d go over to his place and stay till early morning.

Nobody knew about you and Bucky, except for Steve and Sam who couldn’t stop grinning like mischievous devils each time they ran into you.

Days passed this way. The weather got colder, and you kept the village in perfect shape. The rivers kept flowing even though they should be frozen. The lake as well. The crops stayed healthy. As did the cattle.

Your magic had created an invisible dome over the entirety of the village. A vast dome that only you could see.

The people were safe from the intense cold and they were warm, fed, and happy.

But doing all that always made you extremely tired. Usually you’d hide it well behind faint smiles and blame it on it being a long day. But even at night you had to use your magic to keep the dome intact. And although you did your best to hide it, sometimes your weariness would show.

Like the one time when Bucky caught you by the lakeside late at night.

You were sitting on the jetty, looking down at the dark water. The moonlight made the surface shine, and just beyond the lake, right where the dome ended, you could see the harsh winds of the blizzard that you were currently keeping away from Bucky’s people. But from within the dome, no one could even hear it.

And just when you thought of Bucky, you heard him walking on the jetty and on his way to you.

“I looked for you everywhere.” He said, sitting down next to you on the edge. “Are you alright? You never come here this late.” He sounded genuinely concerned.

You smiled at him, his pretty face glowing under the moonlight. Then you pointed at the blizzard, and Bucky swore under his breath when he saw what was happening beyond the dome, “I came to make sure everything was safe.” You said. “I had to draw some of the runes again.” Then you added, “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

Bucky loosened the furs around his shoulders and opened his arms for you to snuggle up to him.

You gave him a smirk as you slowly scooted closer to him, “I can keep myself warm, remember?”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He teased, wrapping his arms and the furs around you, holding you close to him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek softly then said, “You seem tired. I didn’t realise magic would take such a toll on you.” He sounded a little embarrassed.

“Hey,” You placed a gentle hand on his rough cheek. “This is how it is. Magic has a cost, it feeds on my energy and that’s just how it works. I should be okay after a few hours of sleep.” You smiled up at him. “Can I ask about the arm?”

He smiled, tapped you on the nose with his metal finger and said, “Bravery has a cost, my lady.” You laughed, and he eventually told you the story. And by the time he was done, he noticed you were just about to fall asleep. “Hey, come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You let him help you stand up and said, “I’m tired tonight, maybe–,”

He cut you off. “That’s not what I meant.” He pulled you closer and kissed you gently, “I won’t do anything, I just want you in bed with me. You’re doing so much for us, let me take care of you and do what I can.” He added, pressing another kiss on your lips, “Please.”

You smiled and gave in.

And turns out, sleeping in his bed, in his arms was enough to recharge you.

—

One day, a messenger came with urgent news for Bucky.

A little far from this village was another one, and the news said that their Chief had died leaving behind no one to care for the people. Since Bucky was the closest, they were begging him to help them last this icy winter.

Bucky held a meeting with his inner circle – his friends, and now you as well. Everyone gathered near the fire in the middle of Bucky’s home. Outside, the weather was getting colder. Your magic kept everyone here comfortable but those people who had asked for help… they wouldn’t last long.

“We can’t help them.” Bucky said, surprising everyone in the room.

Tony, the one who created weapons for every warrior in the village and also part of Bucky’s inner circle, spoke up first, “What do you mean here, Chief? Those people will die.”

Steve nodded, agreeing, “There are children, cold and starving. We can’t leave them.”

“Think about it,” Sam said, “We could have more people in our army to fight for us, with us.”

Bucky stopped his slow pacing, then turned to all of you. “How are we going to care for these people? I mean, I guess we’ll have enough food for everyone but what about shelter?”

Peter, Tony’s apprentice, spoke up this time, “We have enough material to build houses. I mean, we could always pause on the boats for now and use those materials for houses. You’ll have to go bring the people over anyway, and by the time you’ll be back I suppose we could have houses ready by then.” He looked over to Tony for approval. The latter nodded in agreement.

“That will cost too much.” Bucky said. Then sighed. “I have to care for the people here.”

You spoke up this time, “I could help.” You said. “I have more gold than I could ever use. And I could help with the building, and–,”

Bucky cut you off gently, “No, I cannot ask you for all that. You’re already helping us, and this wasn’t part of our arrangement.” He paused for a moment, only the crackling logs filled the silence, “Besides, I’ve seen what using magic constantly does to you.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s just how it works,” You repeated. “It’s like when you complain about being tired after a whole day of training. Doesn’t mean you won’t ever train again.” You reasoned. “And as for our arrangement, I agreed to help. So let me.”

Bucky sighed again, walking over to you as if the rest of the people in the room didn’t exist. Honestly, the moment you stared into his clear blue eyes, it didn’t matter who else was in the room.

“It’ll wear you out.” He said softly, almost in a whisper.

You gave him a faint smile, “Guess you’ll just have to take better care of me then.”

He was about to reach out and cup your face in his hands but then Steve, Sam, and Tony all cleared their throats to get your attention back on the current issue. You avoided all their eyes awkwardly while Bucky smirked shamelessly. Peter just seemed confused.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “We’ll bring the people. We’ll take the boats.” He announced. “We leave today itself.” Then he proceeded to assign the work of building additional houses over to Tony and Peter. Sam and Steve, along with other warriors, were going with Bucky.

Then the men left, Tony and Peter went to gather people to help them start building immediately and Sam and Steve went to get the other warriors to prepare for their journey. Once they were out of the house, Bucky pulled you close.

“That was generous of you.” He said, nuzzling your neck and kissing it. “I’ll be gone for two weeks at least, you know?” He said. “I’ll miss you.” His lips brushed along your neck, stopping at the corner of your mouth, “I’ll miss this.” His arms tightened around you, making you gasp.

“I’ll miss you too,” You said, pulling away to look at him. “The sea will be rough,” You said, “Take this.” You took the crystal necklace off of your neck and put it around his, hiding it under the layers he wore. “That should keep you safe.” Then you looked around and said, “You should start packing your things. My magic won’t work given the distance so you’ll need more furs to keep you warm.”

He looked at you with soft eyes. “Usually no one fusses over me like this.” He said, “I like it. I like it a lot.”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Now hurry up. Those people need you.”

“Hmm,” He leaned down for a kiss again. “If anyone touches you while I’m gone I will behead them.” He said, half-joking. “One more thing, I want you to stay here while I’m gone.” He said, referring to his house. “Sleep in my bed every night. Oh and think of me. Miss me. A lot.”

You laughed. “Understood, Chief.”

—

You went to see Bucky off when he left later that evening. He looked like a King and his armada, setting off for battle.

He was barely out of your sight and you missed him already. You whispered a prayer to the strong winter winds, telling them to keep him safe until he comes back.

—

For the entirety of the two weeks which followed, you worked harder than ever. The dome, the crops, the cattle, the rivers and lake, and now the construction. Your magic fortified the wood used for the new houses, all the gold you had accumulated over the years helped the village immensely.

The people were so grateful. And you did your best to keep their spirits up while their Chief was gone.

It made you feel all warm inside whenever people would gush about how incredible of a leader Bucky was. You wondered if he knew his people loved him so much. Then, almost always, quickly followed by that warm fuzzy feeling was intense worry.

You never had anyone to worry about this much. So this was new for you.

By the end of the second week, each morning you’d wake up and go by the beach to see if you could see the ships coming. They didn’t.

You slept in his bed like he wanted you to. And that just made things worse. Because now not only did you worry about him, but you missed him like a mad woman. His scent was all over the bed and the covers.

But then one morning, as you went to the beach to check, you saw them. The ships, tiny little dots near the horizon. They were coming back. He was coming back.

Great timing in fact because the houses were just done building as well. And the crops had just been harvested.

Some hours later, the ships docked. And the new people had arrived, with their entire lives packed into trunks. While everyone showed the new ones to their houses, you looked for Bucky. You couldn’t even hide the smile on your face as you spotted him, running to him.

Bucky smiled as you ran into his open arms, hugging him tightly. You didn’t see the approving smiles on the faces of people around you, all you cared about was that Bucky was here, safely.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you.”

You pulled away to look up at him. “You’re back.” You whispered, delighted.

He cupped your face and leaned down to press his forehead against yours, sighing. “I wish I could take you to bed and show you how much I missed you, but…”

“Later,” You finished his sentence. “There’s a lot of work to be done right now.”

He nodded. Then you felt something moving near your ankles, getting tangled up in your flowy cloak. You looked down and saw a small ball of white fur. Bucky chuckled as you bent down to pick it up.

“The mother and the rest of the litter didn’t survive the cold,” He said, “But I found this little guy as we were evacuating the village. He was hiding under a pile of hay, all hungry and trembling. And I thought, who else would take better care of him than a certain generous witch I know?” He explained, a little flustered, ”So I brought him along. For you.”

You looked at the fluffy, white wolf pup in your hands. You already loved him with all your heart. Then you looked up at Bucky again, “Thank you. I love him.” You said, kissing him on the cheek, “And thank you for not leaving him behind.”

He smiled, “Oh well,” He looked around to see his people helping their new guests get off the boats, offering to carry their luggage for them. He looked beyond proud. “What’s one more addition to our village?” He shrugged, smiling at you.

–

It took some hours, but by nightfall everyone had a bed to sleep in and roof over their heads. Bucky was so pleased he insisted they celebrated this feat. Plus he wanted the new members to feel welcomed and comfortable so he held a feast.

Food and ale makes everyone feel at home, he said.

So the feast was held. The village centre quickly became a vibrant, bustling scene. And the music was the best part. You had travelled to so many places but you had never heard such rich music and singing.

As you walked around, enjoying the atmosphere, everyone thanked you for your help. Usually by this time well into winter, food was always scarce. But with you and your magic here, everyone was happy and their bellies were full.

You caught Bucky’s stare from across the crowds of people a lot of times. His heated stare that held promises which made your face feel all hot and made your body tingle. But he was busy catching up with his people right now, he made sure to speak with each and everyone of the new members of his village, he spoke with the kids and promised them that they would be restarting training soon. He even held some of the babies that had been born while he was away.

And you watched him with fondness. Watched how he smiled, watched how he let the kids mess with and admire his metal arm, watched how gentle and kind he could be, as well as how stern and assertive.

And then he caught you staring. He smirked at you while you pretended that your entire being didn’t come alive under his attention. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs together as he began walking over to you, finally.

The music rose to a crescendo as he made his way to you. Tall, strong, with a confident and slightly arrogant gait. He stopped when he was right in front of you, the lit torches made his skin look golden, and his eyes… oh his eyes.

His metal head reached out to touch your face, slowly caressing your warm cheek. “Did you get a chance to eat?” He asked.

You nodded, lost in his eyes. You didn’t even remember what you ate, if he asked you you wouldn’t know.

“Good. Then let’s go.” There was enough raw desire in his voice that it made you move immediately.

As you walked you asked, “Won’t they notice you’re gone?” You referred to the ongoing festivities.

Bucky smirked as he took your hand in his, the two of you making your way through the dark, to his place. “Judging by the way you threw yourself into my arms earlier, I think they expected us both to disappear at some point.”

After the short walk, you could still hear the music from the feast even after making your way into Bucky’s home. You could hear some vocalising, and it sounded… magical. Raw. Intense. Much like the look in Bucky��s eyes.

“I see you did sleep here.” He noted, appreciating that you did as he’d asked.

You took your cloak off near the fire and then followed Bucky into the sleeping area. “It was the closest I could get to you while you were gone.” You whispered, taking the layers of fur off of him. You carefully placed it down and began undoing his tunic. “Your bed smells like you.” You said, “Some nights I couldn’t sleep until I made myself come while pretending it was your hand touching me.”

A sound resembling a growl left his mouth as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, ceasing your movement. “Show me.” He said, low and deep, “Show me what I missed.”

A sly smirk formed on your lips, “Sure you don’t want to do it yourself?”

He shook his head. “I want to see.”

You turned and gave him your back, “Undress me then.” You expected him to undo the laces and buttons. But no. You felt something cold against the nape of your neck, and then the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room.

You gasped in pleasant surprise. He’d torn your dress off instead. With the dagger. You let the ruined dress fall to the ground and faced him again, naked because you hadn’t been wearing any undergarments, “That was one of my favourites.” You said, looking into his lust-drunk, hooded eyes.

“I don’t care.” He answered, truthfully. Stepping closer he raised the dagger up under your chin, pressing it gently against your skin. “If it were up to me, I’d keep you naked in this bed at all times.”

You giggled.

“Hurry up,” He said, “Show me.” His voice was a mere whisper.

You could still hear the music and the singing in the background as you held his stare and laid down on his soft bed, on your back. He stood at the end of the bed looking down at you like an old god looking at a sacrifice. With hunger in his eyes like you’d never seen before.

He watched as if in trance, as you bent your knees and spread your legs. His breaths got deeper as he watched how wet you were, your finger slowly sliding up and down your slit. He inched just a little closer as you began gasping and whimpering, your finger slipping in and out of you.

Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging. You held his dark stare as you moaned, back arching off the bed, the slightly chilly air hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further.

“Oh gods…” Bucky whispered, watching as you put on a show. Watching as you whined in pleasure as the pace at which your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you increased. You looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He was barely holding back.

The way he watched you, the feeling of anticipation knowing he would fill you up soon, all of it made your heart race. Outside, the music rose to a crescendo again and you moaned louder, fingering yourself faster, the palm of your hands rubbing against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you.

You gasped, “Bucky…” You moaned quietly under your breath, imagining it was his fingers that were touching you instead of your own. “I need you…” you mumbled in the haze that you were in, “Please… I need you.”

He wasted no time in grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed as he knelt to the ground. He placed your legs over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss your belly. He was rock hard, barely able to think straight. But fuck he needed to hear you moan as you came.

“I fucking missed you,” He mumbled as he kissed around where your shaky fingers were buried in your wet cunt. “Let me taste you.” He whispered before gently slipping your fingers out of your hole and into his mouth. He sucked on them like they’d just been dipped in the sweetest honey.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned, looking at him. The great Chief, kneeling in between your legs, sucking your taste off your fingers… it was heady. “Please,” You murmured again when you noticed that he was teasing you, keeping you waiting on purpose.

He let go of your fingers, smirking as he looked up at you. “I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He whispered, his warm breath making you squirm. Chuckling at your restlessness, he parted your folds and buried his mouth in between them, eating you out like he was a starving man and moaning at your taste.

Relentlessly, passionately. His warm mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked on it occasionally. His tongue teased your entrance as he took his time to feast in between your legs.

Your fingers slid into his hair, it had gotten slightly longer you realised as you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you.

“So this is what you did, huh? While I was away, rescuing people and fighting rough seas…” His tongue slowly circled around your clit and he earned more and more moans out of you. “You were here, touching yourself.”

Your legs trembled as he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth and made you cry out of pleasure. You whined. “Please, Bucky…”

He chuckled, darkly. “No.” He pulled away, licking his lips. “Not so easily.”

He stood up, got rid of all his clothes before climbing into bed with you. His glorious, inked, naked body hovered above yours as he looked down at you with nothing but fondness and desire in his eyes. You looked down, whimpering at the sight of him stroking his hard cock, it was leaking already.

Bucky looked down at you and smiled before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?”

You cried out, “Yes! Please, Buck–,”

He cut you off by sliding into you, filling you up. You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly and he growled under his breath as he filled you up entirely. “Look at me,” He said. When you did, he smiled and laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up into you. “Fuck,” He swore, “You feel like you were made for me.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once he started rocking in and out of you with your legs locked behind his back. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you hard and fast.

The music outside felt like it echoed inside your head. It made your heart race, like a soundtrack to this ethereal union.

“Tell me you belong to me,” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as his cock stroked your inner walls perfectly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… I’m yours,” You said, breathlessly.

“That’s right,” He breathed against your mouth. “All fucking mine.” He repeated, kissing along your skin and moaning into your ear, “Fuck, you feel so good.” He said as he sped up again, fucking you nice and deep to show you that you belong to him. “Come for me,” He said, knowing he wouldn’t last too long, “Come on sweetheart, come for me.”

You cried out as you did, coming undone as he kept pounding into you until he finished inside you. Bucky nuzzled your neck, kissing your skin as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him lazily, feeling his heart racing just as fast as yours was.

He sighed in bliss as he finally laid down beside you, taking you with him so more than half of your body was on top of his. He kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I missed you like a madman.”

You smiled, kissing his damp skin as you replied, “I did too. It felt… empty without you.” You lifted your head up to look at him. “Your hair is longer.” You pointed out.

Bucky chuckled, “You like it?”

You nodded, “It suits you.”

He smiled, caressing your cheek again. “I like you in my bed.” He murmured.

You smirked, lifting yourself up to straddle him properly. You grabbed his semi hard cock and slid it inside you again, gasping as it went in easily. Bucky groaned in pleasure, his hands holding you by the waist, ready to lift you up and down his cock.

“I really like me in your bed too.” You said, and began riding him until you both came once more.

—

And so, winter passed by.

You kept everyone safe and warm. Your bond with Bucky was not a secret anymore given you were always seen together. Judging by the smiles on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together, you’d say they were more than happy for Bucky.

You spent more time in Bucky’s house than the one you were assigned when you first got here that Bucky suggested you move in, and let someone else have the other home.

“I like having you in my home.” He said one night as he pulled your worn out, bare body into his. He kissed your shoulder, and made sure you were properly warm under the soft furs, in his bed. “Come live with me.”

So you moved in.

Your days started and ended with Bucky. With his soft, loving, often demanding touch. His merciless and passionate kisses. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He was a stern, just, and caring chief to the rest of the village but only you saw the softer side of him.

The way some evenings he would lay his head in your lap and grumble until you played with his hair until he fell asleep.

Or how much he loved it when you braided his hair, he’d wear it proudly.

Or how he always gave you the best bites of food when you dined together.

The way he would always make sure you had enough fur and blankets on your side of the bed at night.

Or how he’d always accompany you when you took your little wolf for walks in the woods.

Or how he’d often tempt you into going for midnight swims with him at the lake. How he’d kiss you under the moonlight, smiling like a lovesick young boy instead of the great chief he was.

During those moments, you often wanted to freeze time and just stay with him forever.

Forever… but that wasn’t possible, was it?

—

The weather, naturally, didn’t stay freezing cold. It got warmer, and warmer as winter faded into a gentle, barely there spring.

Your little wolf grew, and kept growing. Time, you realised, moved and with it came time to say goodbye.

Winter was nearly over. Everyone knew, everyone could see it. But nobody said anything. You were still greeted with the same grateful smiles and infinite gifts whenever you stepped out. Steve and Sam never mentioned it, they kept filling your days with stories of their youth and more laughter.

Bucky, it seemed, had forgotten all about what the end of winter meant.

And it hurt you more than you thought it would when it came time to confront him about it. It took you two days to build the courage to break both of your hearts. You didn’t want to leave, but you had to, didn’t you?

He was home early that evening, in a good mood too. As soon as you opened your mouth to say something though, he announced, “I’m going for a swim, come with me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t feel like it. You go ahead.”

He smiled, kissed your forehead and left. The sunset as soon as he was out of the door. He’d been going on a lot of swims lately, which again indicated that the weather was getting warmer.

You waited for him to get back. Your heart breaking in the meantime.

–

“We need to, um, talk.” You said, once he’d put on clean, dry clothes again. You watched as he dried his hair with a piece of fabric as he turned to face you.

The buttons of his tunic undone with the tattoos on his chest peeking through, his hair was a damp mess, his blue eyes shining. He was so beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

“What about, sweetheart?” He tossed the fabric aside and placed his hands on either side of your waist. “Everything okay?”

You looked up at him. Didn’t he notice? Couldn’t he see you were wearing the same cloak you wore the day he met you? Couldn’t see you were ready to leave? You spoke with tears in your eyes, “Winter is nearly over, Bucky.” You whispered in a shaky voice.

Silence. Only the few nearby torches. And the crickets outside.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his jaw. You could see it through the stubble on his cheeks. “What do you mean?”

He knew what you meant. You could tell. He was just giving you a chance to rectify what you said. But you didn’t. Instead you said, “Winter is over, it’s time for me to go.” The tears fell. Hot and burning, much like the tension between the two of you even after all these months.

Bucky was quiet, then he let out a humourless chuckle. “What are you saying? You want to leave me?”

You sighed as he made this difficult for both of you. “You know what I mean. We had a deal, remember?” You swallowed a sob. “We–,”

“I swear to gods,” He cut you off, pulling you closer and growling, “Do not fucking test me right now.”

More tears fell down your face. “Bucky…” You whispered. “I can’t stay here. You know that. It’s what I do, I help people. It’s what I’m meant to do with this…” You sighed, “This magic.”

“Who said that?” He argued. “Who said you couldn’t choose what made you happy? Who said you had to keep wandering? Huh?” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose touching yours, “Who said you can’t stop once you found a home? A real one?” He gently kissed the corner of your mouth. “You have a home here, you have me. Stay.”

You breathed in the manly scent of him. Felt the roughness of his stubble against your skin. Felt his body heat. Why couldn’t you stop? Because it scared you. “I can’t.” You mumbled, even as your heart screamed stay, stay, stay.

Bucky pulled away. His face was stone cold. Emotionless. His hands left your waist and clenched into fists as he stared at you. As Chief, he wasn’t used to people disobeying him.

“Fine then,” He spoke with a bitter voice. “You want to leave? Then I’ll follow. And my people will follow me no matter where I go.” He spoke with a confidence that only a true leader can have. “So wherever you go, you’ll find me behind you. And a whole village behind me. Is that what you want?” You could hear the stubbornness in his voice, the determination. The promise.

“You can’t.” You reasoned. “You have a duty here, Bucky. My work here is done, I lifted the dome yesterday and no one even noticed. That just goes to show I’m not needed here. You have a life here,” You said, “Not me.” More tears streamed down your face. Your mind and heart were screaming in contradiction.

Bucky just stared at you, his heart slowly breaking. Then he said, calmly but fiercely, “I have nothing without you. Nothing.” He stepped closer to you again, “You made me feel alive again, you made me feel like I was more than just a chief, like I was a man again. Just a man who is madly in love with the woman of his dreams.” His words made you weak. “You’re… everything. Don’t leave me.” He pleaded, quietly.

You couldn’t help but hide your face in his chest as you sobbed. He cradled your head, kissing the top of it.

“I will send word.” He said, as you sobbed quietly. Your tears drenching his tunic. “People will know where to come find you if they need you.” He reassured you. “Stay with me, be my wife, let’s have children together,” He cupped your face and made you look up at him. His ocean blue eyes staring down loving into yours. “Let’s have a life together.”

You sniffled. “You’re awfully stubborn.” You said.

He smiled, his own eyes tearing up. “And you love me for it.”

You sniffled again. “I do.” You confessed. “I do love you.”

“And I love you.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Stay with me. You have a home here.” He whispered against your lips. “You’ve helped plenty of people all over this world. It’s not selfish if you choose to settle down now and choose your happiness.”

“I’m scared.” You admitted. “I’ve never… I don’t know if I can… I mean, I don’t know if–,”

He cut you off with another loving kiss. “Shh, I’ve got you. We will figure it out. Together.”

You gave him a faint smile through the tears as you nodded. “Together.”

And choosing to stay back with him, for him, ended up being the best decision you’d ever made.

—

Fin.

#viking!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel au

3K notes · View notes

princessbellecerise · 11 months

Text

Worth The Wait

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Jace spends your entire courtship denying you the pleasures of what you really want. Now that it’s the night of your wedding, he has every intention of making it worth the wait

warnings | husband!jace, first time wedding smut, creampie

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys never let himself have his way with you until your wedding night.

Before that, he’d always cut you off, not letting anything get too far because of his honor. He was so righteous that it nearly made you blind with rage every time he stopped you when you were right there, so close to having him inside of you but stopped every time by his last minute morals.

Jacaerys was a good man and you suffered for it; always being left aching and denied what you truly wanted. But of course, as heir, he knew he couldn’t touch you until your wedding night. The gods, his mother and his reputation frowned upon it. Jacaerys would do not such thing as dishonor you, so he waited.

And waited.

And suddenly, it was the night of your wedding feast and Jacaerys could not bring himself to think of anything expect for you. How good you looked in your gown, the lights seemingly adorning your face.

Marriage looked so good on you that he can hardly contain himself. He grows desperate with each passing minute, strained smiles and polite yet brief words being exchanged with everyone that approaches to congratulate him. A few people even make him laugh and like the future king he is, Jace does not show his true emotions.

He does not show how desperately he wants you, his wife whom he’s denied pleasure so much. He keeps his composure but Jacaerys is suffering, agonizingly and and eagerly awaiting for the sun to go down.

Of course, you take note of his angst and worry that something is wrong with your husband. Or worse—that he’s unhappy to the point where he doesn’t even want to eat.

He hasn’t touched his food since it was brought out and worriedly, you lean over to ask him about his lack of appetite.

You have to admit; you weren’t expecting the response that you got. Words from his mouth that send pure heat through your body and made you feel hot from your heels to your head.

“I am fine, my princess. I am simply not hungry because it is not roast I wish to feast upon right now,” He tells you, and suddenly everything makes since.

Why he’s so tense. Why Jacaerys looks like he cannot wait to leave this damn dinner. And suddenly, your mouth drops into an ‘o’ shape. A smirk slowly adorning your lips because now Jacaerys knows what it feels like. He knows what it’s like to be left waiting, wondering and lusting for the opportunity.

In a way, it sort of makes you satisfied that he has to wait.

Only when the sun goes down is it proper for him to finally announce your fair wells, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you towards your now shared chambers.

Everyone is looking at the two of you, cheering and congratulating you both as you walk though the congregational of people. Friends and allies alike clap Jace on the back and wink at you as your grip on his hand tightens.

With a strained smile, Jace politely nods back but does not entertain their jesting. You’re grateful, because even though what you’re about to do is an open secret, it’s still embarrassing.

Thankfully, there would be no bedding ceremony, Jacaerys way too much of a gentleman to let that happen to you. Instead, it’s only you and him and the flames of desire that grow between the two of you as you walk through the halls.

It burns—it really does. The heat and the longing between you two is almost unbearable as you finally make it behind closed doors, barely locking it before Jacaerys grabs you and jumps you.

You’re surprised, yelping when your husband scoops you into his arms and kisses you without so much as a word.

His hot mouth covers your groans and while it is unexpected, you welcome it.

His kiss is fierce, so passionate that it nearly knocks you to your knees. Jacaerys has clearly grown desperate during the hours of waiting, the future king nearly rabid as he pokes and prods at your clothing.

Never have you seen him in such a way, so ungentleman-like as he drags you to the floor. You don’t even make it to the bed because Jacaerys is so needy, getting you naked in no time while also landing sloppy kisses on your neck.

It ignites an unimaginable fire in your belly to see him so frantic for you. To see him finally give in and want to fuck you like you’ve previously begged for.

Now that his honor isn’t at stake, Jacaerys is not holding back. He’s adamant about what he wants and he wants you; all of you.

You two lay bare before one another and then it’s time; Jace settling himself at your hole and running his cock head against your slick folds.

He’s done this many times before. You’ve been here before, and every time this was the moment that Jace pulled back. Just when he was about to push into you, his sense would smack him in the face and off of you he went.

This was always the stage of stopping but this time there was no return. You found yourself almost opening your mouth, so used to having to beg him for friction.

“Just the tip, at least the tip. Please Jace.” Is what you used to beg for.

Now, it shocks you when he says nothing. Does nothing to pull away, only kisses you so hard it makes your head spin and your lips throb from where he cut it earlier.

He’s so feverish that it hurts, hurts so good to know he finally desires you. To know that this will be the time he doesn’t stop, the time you don’t beg.

Now, it is him that is at his wits ends as he lays his forehead against yours. When it’s time to push himself in, Jacaerys finally speaks. Brown eyes blown from desire, the future king is barely able to hold himself back, but he does.

“Do you wish for me to warm you first, sweetling?” He asks, and it’s not so much as an offer as it is his morals shining through. Jace wants absolutely nothing except to fuck you into oblivion, but he’s kind.

He asks before taking your maidenhood even though he’s shaking at your entrance, will power faltering the longer you contemplate your answer.

He almost cries when he sees you shake your head, breathing a sigh of relief and pursing his pink lips together while nodding. He understands.

“They’ll be time for that later,” You tell him and he’s relived. Back to the mission of penetrating you before you suddenly get an idea, finding yourself stopping him one last time just to be cruel.

“Wait!” You take the role of Jacaerys, and he you as he stares at you with wide eyes. Hungry eyes that are confused and frustrated as you look at him.

“What is it, my love?” He asks slowly.

A crude smirk falls upon your lips. “Maybe we should wait,” You tell him bashfully, loving the way he reels back. The bewilderment in his expression is finally enough to satisfy your revenge for a lifetime, and you want to laugh when he finally feels what you feel. “Maybe we shouldn’t…dishonor ourselves this way. We should wait for marriage, you know? That way—”

You gasp to the high heavens as your cruel joke is suddenly cut off by Jacaerys pushing himself inside of you. In no mood to jest, he takes what he wants and finally sheaths himself in your core.

You were being cruel to him, he justifies. Jacaerys is a kind man that does not take lightly to cruelty.

You moan out as pain briefly graces your lower regions and stare at your husband in shock as his face shows all seriousness. Out of all things, you weren’t expecting for him to do that. To take control in way he’d never shown before.

“Do not jest with me, wife. Not tonight of all nights. Do not deny your husband such pleasure,” He growls in your ear as he finally stills.

Still stunned, you simply lay there and relish in the feeling of him on top of you. Seven hells, you have half a mind to cry with relief but you don’t want him to mistake yours tears for pain. It hurts, yes, but not in a way that makes you want him to stop.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite and though you told yourself no more begging, you find that you do it anyways as you wrap your legs around him. Pulling him close so that Jacaerys is really and truly inside of you, just as your husband should be.

“I’m sorry, my love. Please forgive me—I won’t do it again,” You whisper desperately, desire clawing at your every atom. You need him to move, you need him to finish what he started; to complete what you’ve craved for what seems like forever now.

It would only be fair after denying you that pleasure for half a year.

“Good.”

Jacaerys growls this and that is when you feel him start to move, his hips snapping into yours as his lips find your own. You moan as his cock thrusts his way through your unexplored folds, reaching depths and pleasures you never thought possible.

You clench around him and move your lips, loving the way he groans and pants into your mouth. Your legs still find themselves wrapped around his waist, enticing your love to go deeper, faster, harder.

You need him and he needs you.

His strokes are those of desperation, chasing every feeling he had ran away from you. Chasing those previous nights where he had denied you his cock, denied himself of the pelasure that he was feeling right now.

The feeling of you wrapped around his cock was one that was indescribable. If anyone ever asked, which he doubted they would (expect for Luke, maybe) then Jacaerys would simply have to stare at them, mouth open like it was now.

For what could he say, other than his beloved was inciting things from his body that he had never felt before? Providing him with pleasure and ecstasy that took his breath away more than his first dragon ride.

These feelings lifted him higher than that, higher than Vermax souring through the clouds and he screwed his eyes shut as he saviored the flavors of your cunt.

Soft and wet and warm and his prison that he’d gladly rot away in. If Jacaerys could spend the rest of his days inside of you he’d be a happy man. He’d give up the iron throne, burn the skies and every village if it meant feeling your warmth.

He’d do it all.

He would give you his all, steadying his pace so that you might taste the same drops of pleasure he was experiencing. So that you might throw your head back in ecstasy like he did, identical moans leaving the two of you as you came undone.

For you, it came in the form of clenching down on Jace’s cock, crying out as your peak hit you violently. You panted, biting into his shoulder as he did yours and rocking your hips to the sensation.

For Jacaerys, it came in the form of hot spurts, coating your walls with his seed like a good husband should. Like a good king, who would surely need to provide heirs one day.

You were all too willing to compete this task, sucking him in, milking him of his children until Jacaerys had nothing left to give. Until he was an empty shell above you, eyes closed and utterly exhausted as he rolled to the floor beside you.

It took a few minutes for anything expect for your heavy panting to fill the room. Both you and Jace were dazed, still out of it and not quite sure what had just happened. Still experiencing the bliss from your first night of marriage. One, that if anything, indicated that a good marriage was on the horizon indeed.

For you, the night had been everything you hoped for and more. Worth the wait, which you were sure that Jacaerys appreciated now that his honor and his cock reminded satified.

Perhaps the two could co-exist now, you concluded. Staring at your beloved as he turned to face you too, a small smile peaking at his lips.

“Iksin ziry worth se umbagon syt ao pār, ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asked, as shallow breaths overtook his body still. (Was it worth the wait then, my love?)

You grinned as you looked into his brown eyes and eagerly nodded, reminiscing on your peak that had happened only minutes before.

You were still dazed, still hazy but your mind was clear enough that you knew your answer before you uttered it. You loved this man, and you knew that you had made the right decision.

“Kessa, īles worth se umbagon indeed, ñuha jorrāelagon,” You promised softly, using the High Valerian he had taught you. Gazing into his eyes that had gone soft for you. That held love for you and silently promised you that this was it, that Jacaerys would always be worthy of anything till the end of your days. “Kesā va moriot sagon worth ziry naejot nyke.” (Yes, it was worth the wait indeed, my love. You will always be worth it to me.)

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys x reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

3K notes · View notes

voyeurmunson · 1 month

Text

Summertime: Billy Hargrove One Shot

18+, explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: I had a request for some Bills and my writing brain has been shit lately so I’m moving over an old one shot from wattpad. @billysbot I hope this is okay for now and I’ll get to your request asap. 🤭🖤

*******

Summer. Fucking finally. The warm night air hits your face as you walk outside towards the cooler searching for something to help you relax. Parties weren’t always your favorite thing but it was a good way to kick off the summer. A nice time to relax and one of the only fun things to do here.

You check out the scene, a crowd of people around the keg stand, a group by the fire, and a few girls fighting for the attention of Steve Harrington.

He is one handsome guy. You watch as he runs his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, the girl directly in front of him reaching out to touch it, giggling flirtatiously as he gives her a sweet smile. Even after graduation, Steve always threw the best parties in Hawkins.

You suddenly hear a shout from your left as you grab yourself a beer, popping it open.

“The keg king has returned!” a guy shouts in the distance.

Tommy. You roll your eyes, the noise from the party already starting to give you a slight headache. I need more alcohol.

“Billy Hargrove, what did we do to deserve this?” another loud voice booms, followed by a laugh.

The name catches your attention and your head whips around to see him standing there with a bold smile on his face.

He looks about the same. Tight denim clinging to his muscular thighs. He turns and you catch a glimpse of his ass, his jeans showing you every curve perfectly.

That ass. You quickly finish your beer, this time reaching for the whiskey, pouring a bit into your cup before walking a little closer to all the commotion. The crowd is loud as guys and girls alike come to welcome him back.

He left last year for college along with a few others. Most of you were stuck there. Going to community college or working full-time jobs.

You had hooked up with Billy one time before he left for California. The backseat of his Camaro. You hadn't gone all the way but the things you had done were stuck in your brain since last summer. It was a night you thought about often.

He turns your way and your eyes meet his. You instantly feel your face flush and try to conceal it behind the red plastic cup, taking a large gulp.

A white t-shirt fits firmly against his body, a black leather jacket thrown on top. His sandy curls look a little more taken care of, a little smoother, one curl spiraled to perfection on his forehead.

He winks and smiles that charming smile as he squeezes through the crowd, heading your way.

Fuck me.

“There you are.” he huffs as he comes to a stop in front of you. His cologne fills your nose, the aroma immediately sending you back in time, the memory of last year clear as day.

His soft lips on yours, his fingers working you to your peak so effortlessly. It was like a dream.

“That feel good, baby?” he mumbled in your ear as his thick fingers glided in and out.

“So good, Billy.” you moaned breathlessly, your head falling back against his leather seats as he leaned over you.

He chuckled deeply, his fingers working in and out slowly before he curled them slightly, pressing into your g spot, making you bite down on your lip, a small whimper escaping.

“R-right there..” you gasped, rolling your hips, grinding on his hand. No one had ever been able to get you off before and Billy knew exactly what he was doing.

“Mmm… That's it, baby,” he murmured against your lips as your eyes fell shut.

“H-holy shit..” you moaned loudly as your thighs began to tremble. His two fingers precisely stroking across your sweet spot. His thumb moving up and down your soaked slit, brushing against your clit over and over.

You had completely lost yourself in the moment, the pleasure something you had never experienced by the hand of another.

“I can't wait to hear you cum.” he burned, his words bringing you closer and closer until you finally fell apart, your cries filling the small space in the car, Billy encouraging you to scream his name. And you did. Again and again…

Billy’s smooth voice saying your name brings you back to reality and your face reddens again. You still haven't had an orgasm like that since.

“Something on your mind?” he teases, reaching down and snagging a beer for himself.

You quickly shake your head and give him a soft smile. “Just thinking about last summer… How is school? California looks like it's treating you well.” you state sweetly, stepping slightly closer to him.

You take in every detail of his pretty face. His sun-kissed skin dusted with freckles, his long dark lashes such a contrast to his light curls, his lips plump and soft, his mustache trimmed neatly.

Now that he was here, no one else at this party could catch your eye. He was so alluring. So addictive.

Billy smiles as he pats his pockets for his smokes, pulling one out and offering it your way. You take it and place it between your lips, Billy reaches out lighting the cigarette for you before taking the flame to his own.

He inhales deeply, slowly releasing the smoke before he speaks.

“It’s been good. You know, same old shit.” he shrugs casually, his eyes stuck on you. You watch as his gaze travels from your face all the way down your body and back up, his lips curling into a smile.

You shift your feet, your Converse kicking the dirt as you feel his eyes on you. You were happy you had forced yourself into a dress tonight instead of your usual t-shirt and shorts. It was a deep red, riding high on your thighs, sculpting your body in all the right places.

“You look good, sweetheart.” he compliments, his tone warm and sugary. Another little wink in your direction making your heart speed up in your chest.

“So do you. You look really good. I like this shirt.” you gush, your hand reaching out to touch his chest. You can feel the firmness of his muscles underneath the skin-tight shirt. His body tenses under your touch as your hand slowly trails across his stomach.

“It looks better off,” he suggests playfully, his blue eyes glinting under the moonlight.

“Do you wanna swim?” you blurt out quickly, making him laugh.

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” he teases, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Me neither.” Your voice comes out hoarse as he looms over you.

His fingertips ghost across your thigh as you look up at him.

“Anything under this?” he whispers, his voice deep and low as he lightly tugs on the hem of your dress.

You nod, your entire body tingling from the sensation of his fingers against your skin.

“Let’s go.”

********

“You want me to swim in my underwear?” you stare at him as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Mhmm..” he hums lightly, shuffling out of his jeans. His jacket was next, then his shirt. Leaving him standing there in his boxer briefs, his perfect body on full display.

You cross your arms surveying the area, Only a few people were in the pool, most of the party was inside dancing or getting drunk. Billy raises an eyebrow in your direction and you bite down on your lip.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” he presses, walking closer. His hand rests on your waist, pulling you close, his body is warm against yours as his lips meet your ear.

“You weren’t shy when you were screaming my name, baby.” His breath tickles your ear, his words making you throb. His hand reaches around your back, taking your zipper in his fingers, slowly drawing it down.

“Or when you sucked my dick and swallowed every bit of my cum..” he continues, the zipper coming to a stop just above your ass. “Remember that night?” He rasps as his hand moves to your shoulder, gently pulling the strap of your dress down your arm.

“I think about it all the time.” you admit quietly as he works the other strap.

“I know you do.” he boasts, a smile playing on his lips as he pulls your dress to the concrete.

Billy’s POV

I was hoping she’d be here. Cute little thing. Sweet fucking pussy. I remember sucking her off of my fingers. And those lips.. fuck they felt good wrapped around my cock.

I can tell when I make a girl cum for the first time. It’s so gratifying. Hearing their cries, their moans, their surprise as they realize how good sex can be. There are way too many women who haven’t been pleased right. I bet she hasn’t gotten off like that since I left. But tonight, I’m gonna fuck her. Give her everything Billy Hargrove has to offer. I can’t wait to blow her fucking mind.

I watch as she kicks her dress to the side and slips out of her shoes. There are a few people on the other end of the pool, a couple making out, a few guys roughhousing.

Doesn’t matter. I’m about to make her squeal. Audience or no audience.

I reach out for her hand and her slender fingers intertwine with mine as we make our way toward the pool steps. I step down into the water, it’s a little chillier than I expected but it feels nice as we step deeper into the pool. I turn to see her with little goosebumps spread across her arms. Her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her lace bra.

She’s a fucking sight. Her perfect ass on display, her tiny panties barely hiding anything. The moonlight casts a glow across her body as you drink her in.

I’m excited to hear her cry my name again. The way she screamed just from my fingers.. Fuck, this is gonna be fun.

Her eyes shine bright as she peeks over at me. A slight smile on her face. A dark red lipstick painted on her soft lips.

Her little shy act is cute too. But she won’t be able to maintain it for long. Soon she’ll be begging me to do filthy things to her. And I’ll happily comply.

I normally would have gone for someone new but there was something about her that made me crave more. I've thought about her many times since I left. I'm not in love but the girl is something and I'm eager to have more.

I can tell she's thinking the same as she wades into the water, beckoning for me to come closer. She swims to the corner of the pool and I dive in, following behind her. I come out of the water, face to face with her. Her mascara runs slightly, leaving little black smudges under her eyes.

I love that shit. Though it’s normally caused by them gagging.

I press up against her lightly and take note of her body’s reaction to me. Her gaze falls from my eyes to my lips and back up again. Her chest moves up and down rapidly. A small bite of her lip, her body leaning into me.

Mmm.. I know, baby.

I reach out, firmly gripping her waist as she instantly presses her lips to mine, her arms coming around my neck. The noise of everyone around us seems to disappear as she slips her tongue in my mouth. Her fingers thread into my hair as my eyes shut and I take over, kissing her fiercely, pressing her body against the pool wall.

She moans into my mouth making my cock twitch. I dig my fingers into her hips pulling another moan from her, making me smirk against her lips before pulling away breathless.

“You taste just like I remember.” I groan, reaching around cupping her ass in my hands causing her to gasp. “How about that pussy, baby? Can I get another taste?” I mumble against her neck as I begin planting slow kisses up and down her exposed skin.

“Yes.. fuck.. where should we go?”

I let out a deep laugh before gradually gliding my fingers down her side. My hand skates across her thigh and slips in between her legs.

“Billy, there’s people..”

“Then I guess you'll have to be quiet.” I taunt, my voice low in her ear.

“Shit.” she breathes out as my fingers run across her clothed pussy under the water. I move the delicate fabric to the side, one finger slipping into her slit. Even under the water I can feel her need for me, her warmth wrapping around my finger, slickness coating it as I press deeper inside, a little moan falls from her mouth as it drops open.

I work in another finger, plunging into her pussy as her head falls to my shoulder trying to conceal her noises. “I missed these fingers,” she mumbles into the crook of my neck, sending a smile across my face.

I work her with my hand, adding a third finger, keeping them buried deep.

“Fuck!” she cries, her squeal barely muffled as I continue to fuck her with my hand.

Her moans grow louder as she buries her face even deeper. I can feel her pussy pulsing around my fingers as I curl and stroke across her g spot making her legs shake.

I hear voices from the other end of the pool, reminding me that we’re not alone. I lift her with one arm, her legs wrapping around my waist as her nails dig into my shoulder blades.

“Mmm.. I’m gonna.. Billy.. I’m gonna..” she stammers, her voice is shaky as I feel her clench around me.

“Cum for me, baby. Then I’m gonna take you inside where you can really scream.”

My words send her overboard and her teeth sink into my neck making me moan as she comes undone, her walls fluttering around my thick fingers. My jaw clenches as I feel the pain from her bite, followed by her lips sucking harshly as she rides out her orgasm.

Reader’s POV

“Oh my fucking god.” you laugh breathlessly as your body comes down from your high. You bring your face around and slam your lips to his, feeling elated.

He plants a few hard kisses on your lips before lifting you out of the pool. You stand up as he hops out, your eyes glancing towards the opposite side of the pool. You see the same couple still making out, people swimming around none the wiser. Holy shit.

As Billy stands, your eyes roam down his body, his erection clear through his wet briefs. Fucking hell.

“Bedroom?” you suggest coyly.

“Bedroom, baby.” he chuckles, swiping up your clothes and pulling you along.

******

“Is this Harrington’s room?” Billy questions as you lock the door behind you.

“Mhmm.. You okay with that?” you ask, walking further into the room. Billy laughs loudly at your question.

“Just makes it even better.” he snickers before tossing you to the bed.

Fuck, I'm excited. No stopping this time. I'm getting all of him.

You unclasp your wet bra, tossing it aside, watching as Billy’s eyes fall to your chest. He grins as he slides his underwear down, his cock finally unrestrained. You swiftly slip your panties off and giggle as Billy basically tackles you into the mattress.

“You're so fucking beautiful.” he compliments, as you feel his weight on top of you.

“So are you,” you reply, your voice hushed. You bring your arms around his neck and draw his lips to yours, his tongue parting your lips gently. You can feel him against your warmth as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You lift your hips, grinding against him, feeling his cock rock hard.

“I want you.” you plead desperately.

“How do you like it, baby? Soft and slow? Rough and fast? Tell me what you want.” Billy says as his hands begin to explore your body.

“Mmm.. Either.. Both.. I just want you.” you breathe out.

“My kinda girl,” Billy smirks before you feel him at your entrance. He gradually presses the first few inches into you, the stretch so delicious, so fucking good.

“Fuck, you're big.” you whimper slightly and he kisses your lips once more.

“I'm barely in, sweetheart.” he brags, a hint of cockiness laced in his tone. He pushes in deeper, making your mouth drop open with a squeak.

Once fully inside he begins to thrust. In and out, slow and steady. Your body feels overwhelmed from this new sensation. You've never had someone so deep inside of you before.

He starts to get into a nice rhythm, rolling his hips, driving into you at a perfect pace. Your eyelids flutter as he glides in and out of your pussy, your slickness coating his cock entirely.

“Fuck, baby.” Billy grunts as you start to rock with him, your bodies working perfectly together. He times his time, pumping into you with long hard strokes as he kisses you deeply.

You cross your ankles behind his back, pulling him back into you over and over again, moans and praises pouring from your lips as you give into him completely.

“Harder!” you cry unexpectedly, your body aching for something it's never known. I want him to destroy me and I know he can.

Billy grins wickedly, picking up speed, slamming into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Yes!” you wail, clinging to him wildly, your nails dragging down his back as he thrusts mercilessly.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, as he pounds you into the mattress, your boobs bouncing with every thrust. You feel his hand on your ankle as he easily tosses it over his shoulder, leaning over you, making your legs tremble instantly.

“Oh- oh my god!” you scream as his cock slams directly into your g spot.

“There she is.” Billy growls, his smile widening as he slaps your thigh roughly making you squeal in delight.

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“You like it rough?”

“Yes, Billy!”

“Tell me.”

“I want it rough. Fuck me hard, please!”

With no warning, he flips you to your stomach, pulling your ass up in the air and enters you again. His hand grips your hair and gives it a yank, a drawn out moan leaving your lips.

He slams into you, your ass bouncing against him over and over as he wears you out. His firm hand leaving handprints all across your ass. Your hands grip the sheets tightly as your body gives into the euphoria. The perfect amount of pleasure and pain blended together.

You had reached your high twice, the second even stronger than the first. Your body sensitivity at an all time high.

“Cum for me, again.” Billy mumbles lustfully, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

“Yes, Billy.” you whimper. Your entire body felt like jello but you didn't care. You wanted this, needed this.

You soaked his cock once more before he filled you with his cum, both of you collapsing to the bed, out of breath.

“Why the fuck did you have to move again?” you pant, your cheeks flushed, your heart pounding.

Billy chuckles as he reaches over for a cigarette, pulling one out for you both.

“Any time I visit.. This is happening, doll.” he motions between the two of you.

“Visit more than once a year?” you pout, laying your head on his sweaty chest.

“Mhmm.. I didn't think I’d miss anything about Hawkins, baby. But damn I'm gonna miss you.”

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x fem!reader smut #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove

453 notes · View notes

aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 6 months

Text

AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

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

WORDS: 5.2 K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I believe ‘tis time for the bedding!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a longing in you, suppressed by nervousness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

941 notes · View notes

emmalandry · 11 months

Text

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 ~ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕩 ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕤!𝔻𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝔸𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖. 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥? 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ℂ𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜, 𝔻𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝔻𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕪/𝕊𝕚𝕣 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜, 𝔻𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘, ℙ𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕖, ℍ𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕍𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪, 𝔹𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟙.𝟟𝕜

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

Y/N L/N. The most beautiful girl on Kildare island. She had silky smooth skin that was almost like porcelain so dainty and delicate she could be shattered and corrupted at any moment and that's just what Rafe Cameron planned to do. Corrupt her and claim her as his. Every time he heard her sickly sweet voice something grew in him, an urge. The urge to take away her innocence, He was like a predator lying in wait for the opportunity to attack. After months of waiting he found the perfect opportunity to strike. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, Mr.L/N had just finished today's Sermon but he and the rest of Y/N's family decided to stay back at the church letting Y/N return home knowing she had some leftover schoolwork to complete. Rafe knew that whenever the L/N's decided to stay at the church every other Sunday they were usually gone for hours upon hours and today would be no different. He watched as she clicked her heels against the pavement on her way back to her car, her long sun dress flowing in the breeze she looked so angelic. It may seem cliche to say it about the Pastor's daughter but Y/N most definitely was an angel sent from heaven above and every single time it cause a strain in Rafe's shorts.

Just as she was about to reach her little blue beetle convertible she felt a hand on her shoulder she was almost sent into a panic when she heard it, heard him and a wave of relief hit her. "Hey darling, can I talk to you for a second?" she felt her heart flutter and a blush creep up her cheeks at the nickname leaving his lips. She took a deep breath before slowly turning around and looking up to meet his piercing blue eyes. "Sure Mr.Cameron, what is it?" 'Mr.Cameron' he chuckled to himself, the two weren't well acquainted other than the occasional small talk at the country club or church other than that even though they were both kooks their paths didn't cross often. "Slow your roll angel, you can call me Rafe, Im only a year older than you no need for all these hotshot titles." He gave her that smile that could have any girl falling into a puddle at his feet and Y/N's legs just about gave out at the sight. She would smile back at him before opening her mouth once more to speak "What did you need to talk to me about?" She looked away trying to avoid his piercing eyes and he smirked. "Just wanted to tell you that you looked really good today" He played with the hem of her sun dress dragging on what he was gonna say "Your dress really compliments your skin...I was wondering maybe if I could take you out to dinner tonight?" Y/N gave him a confused look, Rafe was handsome, really really handsome and he had a reputation with women around the island.

Kooks and Touron women alike, all of them were far more experienced than her. She never held hands, kissed a boy, she never even had a boyfriend and yet here she was standing in front of the Kook King staring dumbfounded because he just asked her to dinner. Noticing her puzzled look he spoke again, "My whole family leaves for the mainland this afternoon so maybe you could come over and I can make you dinner?" "Are you asking me on a date?" a low chuckle left his lips. "Yes angel, I'm asking you on a date."

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

Considering how your day started you would've never expected to be in Rafe fucking Cameron's bed, your thighs squeezing his head while you're begging for your release, whines and small "Oh god's" leaving your swollen pink lips. "So I'm God now princess?" he let a chuckle slip out receiving a whine from you as he felt you clench around his fingers. A smirk creeps up on his face "Oh you like that angel? Do you like thinking of me as a god?" a small "Mhm" leaving your mouth. He grabbed ahold of your face making you look down at him "If you're not gonna use your words baby then ill put that mouth to use some other way. Open up. Now." Your jaw practically unhinges at his words as he stands to his full height and spits into your mouth, "Swallow" he shuts your jaw and slaps your face lightly as you swallow his saliva. "Such a good little girl, aren't you doll?" he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt, repeatedly hitting the soft spongey spot inside you causing you to let out a loud almost pornographic moan as you clench around his slender fingers one last time before releasing your juices all over his fingers.

"You taste so sweet, like honey." he sucks your release off his fingers and climbs up your body landing a kiss on your lips. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes you ask "What about you?" he lets a laugh slip past his lips "Aren't you just so generous, darling?" you bite your lip and avoid his gaze. "I just...I want you to feel good." a frown crossing over her face. He puts his index finger to his chin almost like he was thinking. "Okay, princess...you want me to feel good? Open up." Y/N hesitated looking up to see Rafe rolling his eyes before reaching his hand up to your face and giving you a light slap. "I thought you were a good girl Y/N. Why are you not following Daddy's orders, Hm?" You begin to feel a blush creep up your neck. "I-I am a good girl...I promise." You frown and he gives you a sly smirk. "Then prove it." You open your mouth slowly and hear him unbuckle his belt before hearing it hit the floor. Your eyes marvel at his visible hard-on showing through his boxers. As he pulls them down you witness his cock slap against his stomach and you begin practically drooling.

"You like what you see sweetness?" You nod slowly, too scared to close your mouth to speak before he walks over to you and slaps his cock against your lips. “Don’t be shy baby…Suck.” You take his cock into your mouth and begin to lightly suckle his tip giving kitten licks here and there before trying to take the whole thing in your mouth. You gag when the tip kisses the back of your throat but try again whilst tears are welling up in your eyes. He weaves his hand into your hair and pulls you off. “Careful Baby. I know you’ve never done this, you’re just a dumb little girl you’re not ready to take it all in that pretty little throat yet.” you nod and pull your mouth off him reaching your hand up to stroke him. You look up to see him flashing you a panty-dropping smile and you feel your arousal gush down your legs once more as you clench your thighs together. Rafe's hand begins to stroke your cheek as you continue to tug on his cock. "You think you're ready to take me baby? You want me to destroy that perfect little pussy?" "Yes sir." He smiles again, "There's my good little girl. Don't worry baby. I won't stop until I've completely corrupted that dumb little head of yours."

He rubs his tip through your soaked folds and the moment his tip bumps your puffy little clit you let out a whine. You whisper out a pathetic "Please." and you notice him shift his gaze to your face. "Please what angel? Tell me what you want." "Wan' you to fuck me sir...take my v-virginity." You swallow harshly and feel him begin to push his fat head inside you. "Relax Darling, Daddy's gonna take good care of his sweet girl." Hearing these words leave his lips your body relaxes and it allows him to bottom out inside you. You felt so full, you've never had anything feel this good. You never even touched yourself in fear that god was watching. "M-move...please need you to move." "Oh yeah? You think you're ready for that baby?" You nod, he begins with slow shallow thrusts that have you arching your back into the air as your hands grip onto his satin sheets. "Oh god." You moan out. "Shhh angel, God's not here. It's just me." His hand reaches up to grip your silver cross that dangles around your dainty little neck before he snatches ahold of the chain and pulls you upwards for a kiss. It's messy. Nothing but tongues and teeth clashing together. His thrusts begin to get more aggressive the sound of sweaty skin slapping together filling the room as you writhe beneath him.

His hand reaches up to draw quick circles on your clit. Who were you to tell him no? It was so swollen and begging for attention. You moan into his mouth, back arching into the air as your pussy begins to clench around him. "My perfect little fucktoy, You're nothing but a stupid little girl. Are you gonna cum baby? How about I fill up your tight little pussy? It's just begging to be filled. Want's me to give you a baby. You want that honey?" He breathes out, His breathing is shaky trying to help you reach your release. "Uhuh." you moan out, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape. "Uhuh, what angel?" He slaps your cheek making your eyes shoot open. "Wan' you to give me a baby. Make me swollen and make me a mommy." he lets out a low groan as you clench around him and your arousal gushes against his cock and your thighs. After about 3 more shallow thrusts he shoots his seed inside you and lays his body on top of you. He slowly pulls his now softening cock out of you. He glances down to see his spend leaking out of you before gathering it on his fingers and fucking it back inside of you. "Gotta keep it in there baby. Make sure you become a mommy." You give him a shaky breath in response as he curls up next to you, stroking your hair out of your face and pecking your cheek. "This means you're mine now baby. My darling angel."

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆

#barry and rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #barry obx x reader #obx #jj maybank x reader #pastors!daughter #corruption #john b x reader #kiera cass #sarah cameron #emmalandry #drew starkey

1K notes · View notes

eddiesghxst · 7 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 8/12)

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie is bad with words

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, moreee jealous!eddie, mentions of piercings, smut, King James III, flirting, tension tension tension, and eddie being... idk, here u go <3

word count: 6.2k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

“A date?”

The room has kicked into an orderly chaos compared to how it was just seconds ago. Richie is rallying the boys out of the room, an assistant is walking through with a trash bag to clean up the disastrous aftermath of pre-show rituals, and James is looking at you like you both have all the time in the world.

“Yeah, I mean… we don’t have to call it a date,” he shrugs, “we can just… hang out, maybe? Grab a bite to eat, maybe? Whatever you want.”

And oh god, Eddie was right.

And fuck— Eddie.

You scan the room for any sign of Eddie, but you find none, just the remains of smoke in the air and an irritated assistant picking up sticky bottles.

James’ hand has dropped from your waist, and his fingertips now lightly dance across the back of your hand, slinking around to grasp two of your fingers and give a light squeeze. Your heart races, eyes snapping back to his kind gaze. “Oh, um… okay, yeah.” You nod.

James smiles and tells you he’ll be out in the crowd with you in a little bit, and you nod before making your way out of the room.

You said yes.

You said yes to James’ date, and honestly, a small part of you is excited because, god, it’s been such a long time since you’ve been on a date.

It’s hard to find time to date when you’re busy jumping from band to band, writing articles and music reviews, and still, somehow, managing to balance your own home life.

However, you were also under the impression that you and James had more of a friendship than anything romantic, so a bigger part of you is shocked (and slightly annoyed that Eddie managed to catch onto it before you did).

And then there’s that feeling. That tiny feeling in the corner of your mind that just wishes it was Eddie who had asked you. It’s a small feeling, yes, but it has a loud voice, and you find yourself growing irritated that you’re even thinking about Eddie when he only ever made things difficult.

But is it wrong to want somebody who doesn’t know what they want for themselves? Is it wrong to want someone who can’t even bring themselves to look you in the eye and be honest for one minute?

Because it’s no secret, the chemistry brewing between you and Eddie, from the moment you met, there was an obvious attraction, and the only thing that got in the way of that was Eddie’s aversion towards your job— which is beyond your control.

And though there’s obviously a sexual attraction between you both, you can’t seem to deny the emotional connection you also share— because you and Eddie are more alike than what meets the eye.

Clearly, you both share a love for music, but you also grew up with similar experiences— from being teased for being and liking different things than your peers to having your heart broken by who you imagined would be your forever person.

God, why are you thinking about Eddie when you’ve just scored a date with James?

You’re not paying attention when you step out of the dressing room, so you’re shocked and slightly spooked when you feel a hand wrapping around your bicep and tugging you off to the side of the door.

It’s Eddie; you know it’s Eddie because you’ve become an expert at depicting Eddie’s scent, and right now, you’re drowning in him.

Eddie’s eyes are sharp and angry with a chilling undertone of something you can’t quite pinpoint. Fear? Jealousy? Resistance?

“Not into each other, huh?”

You blink at Eddie, still trying to find your way through the daze of events you’ve just gone through, and your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “Oh, for fucks sake, Eddie. Are you serious—” “You can’t stand here and lie to me when I just witnessed whatever the fuck that was in there.” He gestures to the wall beside you, the wall that separates you and Eddie from James.

“It wasn’t anything.” You lie.

Eddie doesn’t buy it, however, because he’s leaning in closer, alcohol and mint-coated breath fanning across your face as he calmly asks, “Then what did he say?”

You shake your head, dizzy with his proximity and the fear that James could walk out any second and see you and Eddie practically pressed against each other and misread the situation— because even though you may not precisely like James romantically, you still care for him, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings.

How will you let him down easily after the date, then? What if the date goes well, and James thinks you’re more interested in him than you actually are? This is a mess, and your mind is a whirlwind of things you shouldn’t have done.

You blink through the haze once again, “Huh?”

Eddie’s jaw ticks, “What did he say to you? You looked shocked; what’d he say?”

Oh god, Eddie saw that? You thought he’d maybe have gotten bored of watching, and now you wish Richie had bursted through the doors just a few seconds earlier. And why do you even care? Why do you care that Eddie saw or what his reaction might be if you tell him the truth?

Your heart is racing, and Eddie’s eyes are beautiful, and he’s still holding your arm, and you hate how much you want to scream at him to just let you in. Because, suddenly, you don’t want to go on a date with James, even if James is the kinder route, the more willing candidate, the one that makes more sense.

“Why do you care, Eddie?” You snap.

“Because I,” Eddie pauses, frustration settling into his bones. He looks at you like you might be the only thing he’s ever truly seen, and you don’t realize how your fingers are curling around his elbow, both of your fingertips sinking into the warmth of what could be.

“Eddie!”

Eddie removes his hand from you as if your skin is hot to the touch, and you drop your hand as well, curling your fingers into the palm of your hand and clenching with a deep breath.

Eddie turns to Richie, who’s holding a clipboard and barking directions at staff and crew. “Come on, man, you’re on in 30.” Richie waves his hand.

Eddie turns back to you, dark eyes now cleared and holding urgency as he speaks, “Can you just— fuck,” Eddie tugs at his curls, and your face twists in confusion. You say his name at the same time that Richie calls him once again, and Eddie grumbles, “One second, Rich!” Eddie calls back.

“Just don’t go anywhere for the first few songs, okay?”

“What?”

“Eddie, 10 seconds!”

And Eddie’s pacing backward as he speaks to you, “Just the first few songs. Please?”

Please. You never thought you would hear that word coming from Eddie— and your stomach twists, but you nod anyway, and then Eddie’s off to the stage.

For some reason, tonight has spun out in ways you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around, and you barely hear James walking out of the room until he presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, pulling your eyes to him.

He has your lightweight jacket in one hand as he offers it to you, “I was thinking maybe we could dip out now? I know a good place for burgers, and I figure we’ve seen the show plenty of times now— I mean, unless if you’d still like to watch, that’s not a problem,” He’s rambling, and you find it cute, so you reach out a hand to press to his arm and thank him for your jacket.

And you feel bad, glancing over your shoulder as you hear the crowd screaming upon the band's entrance, but you figure James is right— you have seen the show plenty of times, so one night off won’t hurt, will it? And besides, it’s not the big finale yet, so you’re not really missing anything.

You nod as you slip on your jacket, “Yeah, let’s go; I’m in the mood for a good meal anyway.”

James’ universe is fun and bright and spontaneous, all things he is. It’s something you find yourself admiring as you watch him jump from game to game at the arcade he dragged you to after dinner.

You were both full and satisfied from heavy burgers and fries, and James decided you both needed a way to shake off the food coma; and, as James said, “What better way to wake up than lose money in a bunch of rigged games?”

You start strong with a winning streak in Mortal Kombat, Daytona USA, and Star Wars, but you eventually lose your stretch when James crushes you in Dance Dance Revolution. You made him go a second time, but you still lost, and James called your frown cute, and it made your stomach twist because— fuck, this is a date. You aren’t here as just friends.

You make your way around the arcade until you both decide to call it a night and wrap it up with a few rounds of Pac-Man. It’s chillier in the city tonight, so James takes it upon himself to haul over a taxi to take you both to the hotel.

It’s nearing midnight when you and James walk into the hotel lobby, well past the ending of the show, and you’re holding your breath all the way to the elevator, silence taking over when the doors shut. And tonight was fun and lighthearted, and you’d hate to end it on a dull note.

You should just rip the bandaid off. Do it quick and get it over with so you don’t mislead James, because god, he’s such a good guy, and you’re just… you’re all confused with yourself and— fuck, James is looking at you, just do it.

“I think we should just stay friends.” You rush out.

If James is surprised, you wouldn’t be able to tell by a long shot because he’s simply shoving a hand in his pockets and shrugging, “Yeah, I kind of figured when you avoided holding my hand.” He scratches at his neck, and you fail to hold back the sympathetic twist on your face, “I had a really great time, I did, but I just can’t do anything serious right now…” You shyly explain, and James nods his head.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you curse Richie for booking the entire crew near the top of the building because the floor numbers seem to change slower than the seasons. James breaks the silence just four floors away from your destination, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

You freeze at that, head snapping to look at James in shock, “I— what?”

James shrugs for the second time and turns to the doors, “I kind of clocked it as soon as you joined; you two have some weird thing going on.” He halfheartedly teases, and you feel your body heating up because if James can notice it, then who else has noticed it? God, this is more of a mess than you thought.

“Nothing is going on there,” you lie, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but Eddie hates my guts, so.” You jokingly shrug. James laughs to ease the tension, only glancing back at you when you slow to a stop and the doors open, “I had a fun night, too, by the way. No hard feelings.” And with a wink, he wanders off to his room, and you’re left stepping out into the hallway. When you turn the corner, you find yourself wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole because right outside of your door stands Eddie Munson.

He watches you walk down the empty hall until you stand before him. He’s leaning a shoulder against your doorframe, one hand tucked in his pocket as the other works his cigarette back and forth from his lips. He’s in his usual all-black attire, and his eyes are dark beneath the smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow from the show. And it seems as if he got off the stage and came straight here, seeing as his hair is still slightly damp with sweat and the chains on his neck stick to his chest.

He speaks around a cloud of smoke, dark hooded eyes peering down at you with a gaze so sharp you almost cower, “Where were you?”

Jesus Christ, the audacity of this man.

Your initial thought is to snap back at him and ridicule him for being an asshole— and what’s his deal with always coming to your room? But then you remember you walked out on him when he’d asked you to stay for the first few songs.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” “You went on a date.”

You freeze at that, blinking up at him as your face twists in confusion, “How do you know that?”

“Because where else would you be?” He counters.

“Maybe I got sick.” You argue, and Eddie raises an eyebrow, eyes dancing over your figure, “You don’t look sick.” He points out.

Your eyebrows pinch in frustration as Eddie takes another hit of his cigarette, “What do you want? I already said I’m sorry— which is much more than you’ve ever done, by the way.”

“I said sorry.” Eddie snaps. Eddie snuffs out his cigarette in the large plant next to the door as you scoff, turning to angrily shove your keycard into the door, “What, that shitty apology in the garden alleyway? You call that an apology? How fucking dense are you?” You open the door, moving to step in until Eddie’s fingers wrap around your arm, turning you back to him, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.” He seethes.

And woah, what the fuck does that mean? You weren’t there to hear it? What does he mean?

You blink, head shaking in confusion as you gaze up at Eddie, brows furrowed, eyes searching for an answer as you ask, “What do you mean?”

Eddie’s eyes are so beautiful, with swirling pools of forest ground and the tiniest specks of honey, and you believe somewhere within his eyes lives a fairy that gives him that ability to pull you in every time. He’s a hypnosis of a human, and it’s dangerous the way you can’t seem to fight through it.

Your eyes flutter shut when Eddie leans close enough to graze his lips over yours, and your heart races in anticipation of a kiss, but you can physically feel Eddie holding himself back.

“Eddie,” you lowly say, “What do you mean?”

Eddie turns his head to where his lips kiss the skin of your cheek, breath tickling the warm skin and sending shivers down your spine. He lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes tight and muttering a curse under his breath as your hands slink up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt. The soft, curly strands of Eddie’s hair dance across your lips, and you want to scream because every inhale and exhale of your lungs is full of nothing but Eddie.

His name prances across your tongue once more, and Eddie cracks.

Eddie cracks wide open; one last hit of your hammer, and he’s putty in your hands, mouthing at you as if his life depended on it, devouring you and breathing you and pushing you until you have nowhere to go but inside your room.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against your lips. “I’m sorry… let me make it up to you.”

You’re breathless and dizzy from lack of air, and Eddie is pushing you back onto the hotel bed, “I— what?”

Eddie’s fingers slip under your top, cool fingers pressing into your warm skin and causing your breath to hitch against his lips, “Let me make you feel good.” Eddie whispers against your lips.

And fuck, this is insane.

This is insane.

Just a few hours ago, you would’ve shoved Eddie away from you and told him to eat shit, but for some reason, with the way Eddie’s touching you and talking so gently, you find your body melting into his touch as you nod your head. “Yes?” Eddie seems like he doesn’t believe it, and your stomach twists as you clench your thighs together, nodding once more, “Yes.” You confirm.

Eddie kisses you once again, hastily and eagerly, as his hands push your top further up your torso. Your muscles tense and twitch beneath Eddie’s calloused fingers, and Eddie hums against the softness of your mouth, panting against your lips as he repeats, “Gonna make you feel good. Make up for what I did.”

You breathlessly laugh, “S’gonna take a lot more than this, Munson.”

And although you were slightly serious with that comment, you suppose Eddie takes it as more of a challenge as he shoves your top entirely over your chest, pulling away to tug the shirt off of you and toss it to the side.

Eddie surges forward to press sloppy kisses against the uncovered skin of your chest, sucking tiny little marks as he moves further down your body, pressing a hand to your chest to push you down into the bed when he reaches the waistband of your skirt.

It’s a black denim skirt, and Eddie takes a moment to admire how they hug your thighs perfectly— and he can’t seem to bring himself to remove it from your waist, so he pushes the skirt up around your hips instead. Your heart is racing, and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks as you attempt to close your thighs, but Eddie places his palms flat against the warm insides of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me already. I haven’t even taken off these cute little panties of yours.” Eddie presses a thumb to your cotton-covered clit, dragging the pad of his thumb down your slit and pressing into the damp spot. Your breath hitches, sparks flying throughout your body, and Eddie smiles. You whine, “I thought you were apologizing.” You frown.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss right where your thigh meets the fold of your pussy. You squirm, and Eddie snickers, “I am.” He responds.

You sit up to lean on your elbows, glaring down at him between your thighs as you speak, “You’re not. You’re just teasing me.” You point out.

Eddie doesn’t respond as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, drags them down your legs, and drops them to the side, gaze flickering up to yours as you clench your thighs together. Eddie holds your gaze as he wraps his arms around your thighs, hooking his hands into the dip of your waist and tugging you to the edge of the bed. Your center throbs in anticipation as Eddie sinks to his knees on the carpet floor, dark eyes still locked onto yours as he fits his upper body between your thighs.

And Eddie doesn’t even bother looking between your thighs when he dips his head in and begins devouring you.

Eddie, you find, eats pussy like he has all the time in the world.

He’s sloppy with it, lapping at your center and suckling your clit until you’re a whiney mess beneath him. His fingers curl into the denim skirt that’s bunched around your hips, and his rings tauntingly wink up at you under the light as he clenches his fist against the material, tugging you closer to him so he can thrust his tongue further into you.

While Eddie is busy tasting you, you scramble to reach behind your back and unhook your bra. Between your thighs, Eddie watches as you toss the garment off to the side before cupping your tits in your hands and rolling your nipple between your middle and forefingers. Eddie moans against you, burying his face deeper into you and suckling enough to have you crying out in pleasure.

Eddie pulls back for a moment, sticky strings of his saliva and your arousal dripping from his lips as he removes one hand from your waist to sink two fingers into your cunt. You pant out his name, your face twisting in pleasure when he curls his fingers up against your walls. Your eyes are screwed shut so you don’t see Eddie leaning forward to purse his lips together and let a drop of saliva drip over your pussy and sinfully coat your clit. He’s quick to attach his mouth to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and you reach out a hand to thread your fingers through his hair, knuckles curling at the root to drag an animalistic growl from Eddie.

Eddie is one of the best, if not the best, head you’ve ever received. By the time you begin teetering over the edge, your thighs are twitching and tensing as if you’ve already come undone, and your chest is heaving beneath Eddie’s fingers as he toys with your tits.

When you cum, Eddie becomes greedier than he’d been before, licking and slurping up every last drop you have to give until you’re twitching away from him and pressing a shaky hand to his shoulder.

Eddie slinks up your body, sinking his fingers into his mouth to clean off your wetness before you slink an arm around his shoulders and pull him down to kiss you. Eddie’s fingers are wet as they cup the left side of your face, and the feeling of something wet on your face would usually have you cringing in distaste, but you only moan and press yourself further into Eddie.

You mumble for him to take his shirt off, and Eddie follows swiftly, too eager to go back to kissing you. He shivers when your hands meet his bare chest, fingertips exploring the vast expanse of untold stories in ink, hard yet plush muscles of his arms flexing beneath your touch.

“I wasn’t done saying sorry.” Eddie pants against your lips, and you breathily laugh, “You can finish some other time; I want to feel you now.” You respond, busying your hands with trailing down his lower stomach, sinking past the waistband of his leather pants.

Eddie kisses his way down your neck to begin sucking pretty bruises into the skin, and your core clenches when you realize Eddie is wearing nothing beneath the leather pants— and you try hard not to imagine how he’s probably been pressed up against the rough fabric, achy tip undeniably receiving pleasure from the sinful ways he uses his hips when he’s on stage.

Your shock doesn’t end there, however, because when you sink lower to wrap your hand around his cock, your body goes still at the feeling beneath your fingertips. Against the fiery skin of your cheek, you feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a smile and your heart races.

“What’s the matter, princess? Find something you like, hm?” Eddie can’t help the way his voice shakes near the end because you're giving his cock an experimental squeeze and running a finger over the sudden surprise.

You smile as you speak, “Is that a piercing?”

Eddie hums, turning his head, nose smashing against the side of yours as he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Maybe..” He teasingly confirms.

And god, you might pass out.

Eddie’s dick is pierced. You’re not sure what more you’d expect from a rockstar, but you’re still shocked and ushering him to remove the annoying restriction of his pants.

When Eddie finally gets rid of his leather pants, you’ve shifted to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, and Eddie stalks over to the edge of the bed, beckoning you over.

You don’t waste time crawling over to him, eyes stuck on the pretty sight before you. And sure, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a pierced dick (you’ve spent too much time working with rockstars), but it sure as hell is the first time you’ll be fucking one— not to mention his cock is perfect. It’s shaped and cut to perfection, something you’d expect from a pornstar, but Eddie is not a pornstar, and god, the sight of the metal barbell nestled right beneath the pink tip on the underside of his cock— it’s dizzying to see.

You peer up at Eddie, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking him once, chest fluttering when he fails to hold back a moan. “It’s really pretty, Eddie.” You softly say, and Eddie sheepishly and breathlessly laughs as you squeeze at his tip. “Want you to fuck me with it.”

Eddie groans, muttering a curse as he leans forward to press his lips against yours, pushing you until you’re crawling back up the bed to lay beneath him.

“I’ve never been with someone with a piercing…” You admit, and Eddie smiles at you, and your stomach twists when he reaches down to gently guide your movement up and down the length of his cock.

“Really? You’ve never fucked a pierced cock before?” He manages to say through his pleasure. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheek as you shake your head no, and Eddie snickers when you ask, “Have you?”

His lips quirk into a smile, “Honey, you think I got the piercing done without a test run on how it feels?” He jokes.

You snort at that, and Eddie beams at you. You swipe your thumb over his leaking tip, and Eddie curses, watching as you mindlessly bring the glistening pad of your finger up to your tongue and hum.

“How’s it taste, sweetheart?” Eddie teases, and you hum as you respond, “Good. So good, wish I could taste more—” “No, no, no.” Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his head, reaching down to wrap a fist around himself.

“This isn’t about me. Plus, I’m losing my patience right now; I’ve been thinking about this since I fucking met you.” He presses himself flat against your pussy, and you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips to slide himself up and down your wet cunt, the cool metal of the piercing catching onto your clit and sending shivers up your spine.

His gaze falls between your thighs to watch as your slick centers meet, cursing at the way your wet folds part around each drag of his cock. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess, fuck.” He rasps.

Your mind is spinning with the roll of Eddie’s hips, his dirty compliment, and his admission that he’s thought of fucking you before. You don’t dare to tell him you’ve thought of it too or that you’ve gotten off to the thought of it. You don’t even have to think about it because the tip of Eddie’s cock is catching the slickness of your entrance, and you’re gasping, body jerking in pleasure. Your lips accidentally smear against Eddie’s shoulder, and he hums, tilting his head and dipping to catch your lips in a sloppy kiss.

As he distracts you with his mouth, he slowly presses into you, and you lose your ability to keep up with Eddie’s lips because holy fuck— Eddie is bigger than you thought. Sure, you got a good look at him when he removed his pants to show you his surprise, but your mind must’ve been too muddled with lust to clock the size of him.

You can feel everything as he sinks into you, every vein running up the sides, and the mind-numbing sensation of the barbell as he presses into you. “Holy shit,” you breathlessly whisper against the skin of his shoulder, legs tightening around his waist as the burning yet toe-curling feeling settles in. Eddie snickers above you, “That good?”

You’re coherent enough to snap back at his cockiness, “No.”

Eddie laughs, and you want to make a snippy comeback, but it gets lost on your tongue when Eddie gives his hips one experimental roll.

Eddie is pathetically close to cumming.

Eddie’s cock has only been nestled within your warm, wet, pulsing walls for barely two minutes, and he’s about to blow like he’s a goddamn teenager— and it doesn’t help how heavenly you sound and look writhing beneath him.

Eddie’s not sure where to look; your face, your tits, or the hypnotizing sight of your cunt sucking him in over and over with each thrust he gives you. “Fuck,” he curses, “You’re taking me so well, princess.” He leans in the nose at your cheek before licking at the curve of your jaw, shivering at the wet moan you pant into his ear.

“Been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” Eddie hums, sucking a delicate bruise right below your ear. And god, Eddie could spend forever like this, drilling into you and marking you everywhere and pulling these pretty sounds from you. Eddie’s so close, oh god.

You mewl at his words, hips squirming as Eddie snaps his hips into you, “No,” you whine, “You’ve been mean to me.” And Eddie thinks you’re awfully cute when you’re blissed out and pouting. And your eyes are glossy, lips slick with spit and swollen from kissing.

Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory because he doesn’t want to forget a single detail of this moment. Eddie has one hand clutching the sheets beside your head as he lets the other hand coast up your side to land on your chest, thumb brushing over your nipple to pull a moan from you. “I know,” Eddie lowly replies, “I’m sorry, princess.” He kisses your chin, and you clench around him.

Eddie’s fist clenches around the sheet, fighting to hold himself back as he presses deep into you and stills, cock twitching within your walls. “Gonna let me show you how sorry I am?” He asks.

You're hazy and cockdrunk, and Eddie can’t wait to unpack the fact that you go braindead when you’re fucked good. Eddie nudges himself into you, although he’s pressed all the way into your cunt, and you whimper before eagerly nodding.

“Yeah?” Eddie teases. You nod again, fingers digging into Eddie’s arm as you speak, “Yes, Eddie— fuck. Yeah, show me, please.”

Eddie almost loses it.

It’s slightly scary how much Eddie likes this, how much he’s enjoying this— the feeling of you beneath him, the wetness, the heat, the sweat-sticky touches, and the sloppy smattering of kisses. God, Eddie’s in love with it.

The short five-second break Eddie managed to pull from questioning (teasing) you was enough for him to get ahold of himself. Eddie sits up and grasps the back of your knee, hauling your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle at fucking you, and you gasp when his cock rubs against your spot.

Eddie doesn’t waste time once he gets the position situated. He leaves one hand splayed beside your head to hold him up as the other hand grips the warm flesh of your thigh before resuming his thrusting, this time at a deeper and quicker pace.

The sound of skin meeting and the wet sloshing noise of sex echoes through the room amongst the mix of moans and sultry-soaked remarks. Eddie doesn’t notice his hand slipping from your thigh and slinking up to wrap around your neck, but he hesitates when you whimper. He almost removes his hand, but you wrap a shaky hand around his wrist and nod— and fuck, Eddie will never be the same man after this.

Eddie can feel the heat and the pulse of your heart as his fingers tighten around your neck. Your moans are becoming more and more frequent and higher in pitch, and Eddie can feel the way you’re fluttering around him more sporadically, and he can’t wait to feel it when you cum.

Eddie leans over you, lips brushing your parted ones as he encourages you to let go, “Come on, let me feel it. I’m not leaving until you soak my cock, princess.”

Your body is on fire.

It’s almost alarming how easily and well Eddie has unraveled you. His presence is nearly overwhelming with the way he’s hovering so close over you, but you love it— the tickle of his long curls on your shoulders and chest, the intoxicating smell of him, the dizzying hold he has around your neck— you preen for it.

You’re so close when Eddie tells you to cum, and you barely have enough time to prepare for the earth-shattering orgasm that ripples through you the second Eddie presses a thumb to your aching clit and rubs tight circles against it.

Your body tenses, and your moans crack upon the surface as you melt into him until you’re nothing but a quivering mess. Eddie talks you through it, tells you how pretty you sound and how good you feel wrapped around him. Your orgasm had hit you so hard that you barely registered the broken moan that came from Eddie before he pushed deep into you and emptied every last drop of himself into your pulsing heat.

Eddie curses, his cock pulsing within you, and you let out an exhausted yet satisfied sigh when he rolls his hips into you once more. You’re both silent for a long moment as you come back down to earth, Eddie’s forehead pressed against your shoulder as you subconsciously let your hand run up the side of his torso.

Eddie shifts to turn his head to where he can slightly see your face as he still hides against your shoulder, “Apology accepted?”

Saturday morning, the next day, you wake up and want to bury yourself under the hotel sheets.

Last night was… interesting, to say the least. It was good— mind-blowing— but you still have that lingering feeling in your chest that maybe you and Eddie shouldn’t have slept together. Maybe you let him in too quickly. Maybe it was all a lie, Eddie’s ‘apology’. All the gentle caresses and the passion-filled kisses with the heart flutter words. Maybe it was all for show, just to get you to let your walls down so he could have at you.

Eddie didn’t spend the night with you.

In fact, Eddie practically ran out the door after your extremities were over, and you were left with the aftermath of spinning thoughts and an aching chest. So much for sorry.

The dining room is buzzing with chatter and laughter of excitement— today is the last off day before the final show of the residency— but you’re too in your head to join in on the conversation because Eddie won’t even look at you.

Your throat feels tight, and you spend the majority of breakfast just pushing your food around the plate, and you manage to pull a smile and nod your head when Naomi asks if you’re okay. But fuck, you want to scream.

You should’ve never believed Eddie when he told you he’d change or when he practically spent the entire night worshipping your body and begging for your forgiveness. Eddie didn’t want forgiveness. He just wanted to fuck you, and you should’ve known that from the second he kissed you.

But Eddie’s kisses can tell a hell of a lie, and damn you for falling for them.

You’re spooked when you feel a hand rest on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s Richie, and he peers down at you and gives you a tight-lipped smile as he leans in and lowly speaks, “Can I speak with you outside?”

You nod, dropping your fork onto your plate and quietly rising from your chair. And for the first time today, Eddie looks at you. Your chest tightens, and you think it’s stupid that you’d been upset about this because it’s Eddie for fucks sake. He’s a rockstar, and he surely never made the mistake of presenting himself as if he was anything other than a man who fucks whoever they want and moves on the next day. Eddie’s jaw ticks, he looks away, and you bite your tongue as anger floods your body.

You ignore it as you turn around and follow Richie into the hallway.

You’re hardly paying attention when you both step out of the room, but the slamming of the door is the cue for Richie to start speaking. “Listen, Birdie,” he begins, “You know I adore you. I’m always in your corner, no matter what… But I have to put my boys first.”

It’s concerning, the way Richie is beginning this conversation, and it’s even worse when he can’t seem to look you in the eye for more than five seconds at a time. Your heart rate picks up, and you begin to think maybe…

No, Richie can’t know. There’s no way he’d know, right? Unless if someone told him. One of the band members, or James, or— fuck, there’s too many people that know at this rate. But you didn’t think it would reach Richie.

No, you’re just spinning out. Richie doesn’t know, and this is about something else; it has to be.

You shake your head, brows furrowed as you speak, “I’m not sure I understand.”

Richie glances around the corridor and shifts in his spot, scratching at the back of his neck as he speaks, “Listen, I uh,” he glances at you, and your heart drops because you now know why he’s pulled you aside.

“I know about you and Eddie.”

————

part nine

————

a/n: hiiii, you made it to the end !! IM SORRY FOR ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER FRIENDS, i promise there won't be anymore from here on out (i think hehe), BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS SMUTTY LITTLE PART, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate all and any feedback <3

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn

703 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 month

Text

A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity.

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly.

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight.

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over.

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

280 notes · View notes

lxmelle · 2 months

Text

The man surrounded by the theme of love…

Geto.

Gege has made several writing choices to depict Geto as someone who was handsome and loved - arguably more than any other character in the series. Maybe Gege loves him the most - not complaining at all.

More under the cut - just a few visuals I’ve collected to demonstrate this. I’m certainly not alone in noticing it and there may be others who show this much better, lol. Tag me in if you want to share!!

My post does end with a not-so brief analysis which you can skip if you wish.

Geto, despite being cursed at birth with the technique to absorb the ills of the world, the very skill that led him to fight alongside Gojo as part of the Strongest Duo - by design, each others’ counterpart in so many ways - a twist of fate led them onto opposite paths, leading to complete imbalance, one that drove him into madness.

If Geto in some ways represented Love, it is truly the most twisted curse of all which played a part in his death.

Geto witnessed the most love confessions in the whole series - I found (and stole) it off twitter/now X:

The Japanese originals seem more compelling to me:

Riko says “daisuki” whereas Yuta uses a more traditional “Aishiteru” which, is quite embarrassing of a confession, and therefore almost hints at what could be Gojo’s last words to Geto, if it directly parallels Yuta & Rika’s relationship. And that expression Geto wears when he sees Riko and Kuroi struggle with separating?

That does not look like a person who cannot sympathise and empathise with people. Geto was a person who cared too much, and in search for a way to protect those he cared for, needed an outlet and something (in this case, lesser being, the humans) to blame. He descended into a mania and much like shinobu sensui from yu yu hakusho, seemed to develop some kind of mental disorder due to being unable to carry the conflicting ideals together. The dissonance the world presented to him was just too cruel, and he himself became a weapon to defend his ideals.

Before his defection, Geto was liked by his peers:

Haibara

Mei Mei

Loved by his family for and despite his ideals:

Mimiko and Nanako

Shibuya crew liked/loved him and carried his will/beliefs even after his death, in their own ways, as family:

Miguel and Larue in the most recent chapter to date:

Translations (rough):

Larue: You and me alike, we just wanted Suguru-chan to be King.

Miguel: Yea, I followed just because it was Geto. After shibuya, I trained Okkotsu and I don’t want anything to do with the country anymore. (Something along these lines; a little too complicated for my rudimentary Japanese)

Larue: You , me, Mimiko, Nanako, Manami, Toshihisa, everyone just really liked/loved Suguru-chan.

Canonically, he was known to be handsome and popular:

Takaba

Gege’s character book:

JJK popularity poll:

I do not have screengrabs of how Manami and Larue joined, but it was said to be due to how handsome they thought he was.

Maybe he was like Rika, who did realise how she came across in her life, and manipulated people, lol. But that’s a bit of a stretch to bring that parallel/similarity in. Geto was just quite a magnetic person, according to Gege.

And in the most roundabout way:

Gojo:

“my one and only”

“Love is the most twisted curse...” “curse me a little at the end.”

“I don’t need love to satisfy me” ... “if you were there I might’ve have been satisfied”

While love surrounds Geto, the theme that follows Gojo appears to be “the strongest” cursed; he was admired, revered, feared, and disliked by many. It truly breaks my heart, to think of what he had to give up to carry the weight of this for his whole life, until the very end.

This looks like the most dizzyingly lonely picture of Gojo. It was indeed ironic to have it all but to embody what it means to have an unlimited void by being totally different.

He suffered so much for his power and to have carried this strength. The sorcerer world was practically on his shoulders. The balance was up to him; everyone relied on him. Every time he tried to protect his love (geto) it seemed to fail. It worsened each time, ending with his own demise. But of course that’s just a dramatic interpretation - I don’t really mean/believe that, but it is one way to see the tragedy between Gojo and Geto. Strength at the expense of love; it plays out with the strongest this far as those identifying with this title are plagued by loneliness and do not know love.

They met before things got twisted within themselves, between them. Even after Geto left, Gojo seemed to be looking and waiting for him - to prove his trust for him almost as if he saw through his illusions and lies. Geto was the shadow (Yin) and Gojo was the light (Yang). Only the light can see through the dark. I’ll leave the gojo characterisation for another time / to other better writers.

For now, I’ll just say that I felt that he had planned for the possibility of losing to Sukuna (with the various things we see him do between scheduling the 24th and the actual day) and if he won, he’d just carry on the plan to cremate Geto on top of saving everyone and being a good example as the strongest. Worst case scenario, he would weaken Sukuna and I guess just die on the same day as Geto - idk, maybe as a form of redemption for one of his most painful experiences in life. Who knows?

I headcanon he was relieved to pass on, doing his part to defend the world that relied on him so much, with a big bang - a really fun fight.

And I’m glad they found each other at the end - the loved and the lost.

Back to Geto:

We don’t get much insight into what Geto wanted or felt aside from a world that was better for sorcerers, those he cared about. Even at the afterlife scene, or in subsequent chapters, we only hear from others rather than Geto.

Call me biased and delusional; I believe he didn’t kill the innocent despite saying he hated them all. He loved and hurt so strongly that he hated with almost equal force. He did want to force evolution and eventually extinguish all human kind, to him: the ignorant source of suffering, but I’m glad he didn’t manage to get Rika. I headcanon that he was aware he was losing himself by defying his own principles (to kill sorcerers) for his own gain. That, and Rika with a binding vow for a life, no less, was just too powerful.

In the official character book, Geto was described as someone who told himself that he hated humans a lot, like a reminder. He didn’t kill people indiscriminately. I’m sure he was well aware of how evil he had become but he had chosen, hadn’t he? He expressed to Yuta, that self-affirmation was incredibly important in his view. And the more he interacted with the students, I think the more his humanity fought back - I mean, he was standing there crying from being so moved by what he saw. He also let Yuta heal his friends. How villainous? Or how incredibly loving in spite of himself?

Geto has been shown to lie to others too: jjk 0: described having lied to the school about the conditions for obtaining a cursed spirit, and after defecting: upon taking stage for the first time, stating that the looking the part (wearing gojokesa) was important (ie lying). At his death’s door, he also prefaces with, no matter what anyone says - why would there be a need for that if he wasn’t telling a half-truth? He sought to avenge Riko (first person at the cult he killed after calling him onto the stage + cue mic throw) and the village represented a bunch of people who he slaughtered out of rage and ignorance. I’m definitely not defending him here - his actions are reprehensible. My headcanon view is that he didn’t know how to live with himself after snapping and that was the only path laid before him, which he ardently committed to.

I just think that he held onto a form of love/humanity still- Gojo and Geto both did. Without it, Geto would’ve become the Queen of curses due to Rika (uncaring about his family, or killing young sorcerors despite witnessing the students’ bond and yuta’s selfless power of love in jjk0) and Gojo may have focused on training at all cost without embracing Geto’s principles and becoming a teacher to change the jujutsu world - he could’ve become the next Sukuna and take the title of the King of curses instead - crowning them both King and Queen - instead of both the King and Queen contributing to their deaths. Anyway, I digress...

Geto appears very mother-coded in his protective and defensive relations to the girls, but also to Riko, Kuroi, and Gojo - especially after Toji had killed them. He was so fiercely trying to avenge and defend them, but failing that had a huge effect on him. Moreover, Haibara - innocent, glowingly positive - suffered an undeserved death. It weighed so heavily on Geto, that he didn’t defend Gojo when Nanami vented about leaving things to Gojo who seemed to take it all in his stride, almost insinuating that Geto, too, had little autonomy but to carry on that cycle of curse consumption he began to loathe.

Yuki also underlined the meaninglessness of the death / sacrifice / relationship rupture / suffering. And like the novel implies: Geto was too sincere for this world. He just loved too deeply and wounds cut him too painfully. At just 17... what inner resources were they forced to develop?

He was disillusioned by the system, but respected that Gojo had a place there. This is also SatoSugu indulgent: He never once attempted to talk Gojo into joining him, despite it being the most logical choice, but Geto was the emotional and loving kind - he prioritised Gojo over his ideals / himself. This man was willing to die trying to pursue his ideals, but didn’t want to try convincing his friend even if he know it might fail. What does that say about him? I think it says he loved Gojo. And Gojo loved him.

He masked like Gojo did : the infamous “yeah I’d win” and Geto’s “I’ve made my choice” and his face fell as he had his back turned, stating that he just needed to do it to the best of his ability. This may be headcanon but it does seem plausible to me. He was under no illusions about what he had done. To love was to turn away too. To love was to let the other go. Sigh.

Backtracking a bit: When Geto encountered the twin girls, who knows what entered his mind, but there was something that emerged from being horrified, enraged, and it gave birth to new meaning. He would take control and save them - from humans and the institution that made child sorcerors die. According to Gege, he became Papa Geto. (Kenjaku is also mum-coded but the antithesis of motherly love, with the womb protrusion domain and actually bearing children.)

This is of course not limited to feminine energy, as parents, both male and female, have protective instincts. But I’m not here to go into that discourse. Just stereotypically, and loosely speaking, Geto is very Yin energy. He is a big Mama Bear. With extreme maternal aggression. We see female counterparts do this in the wild more than males. And yes, of course both male and female are protective. Both geto and gojo were protective in their own unique ways. That’s for another post. Geto would rather die than have anyone come save him. In fact, the scripture behind him in the temple goes somewhere along the lines of “death to the weak”. If he had failed, he deserved to die. His family should live.

Gojo cares for others differently. And yes we know he died whilst defending others too. He is inherently more individualistic due to what he is with his gifts and noble heritage. He is less emotional and more cerebral, the only time we saw him lose his composure was due to Geto.

He allows his students to take risks and would allow them to fight in his stead, like in jjk 0 where Toge and panda were sent to be defeated by Geto. Tough love, as Gojo admits. This is also very Dad-like in the modern sense of the word.

In my subjective experiencing of the world, it’s almost like a husband who is only really emotionally vulnerable with his wife, and is otherwise the successful businessman, dad, and whatever else he is. Geto is much like a mum that he would walk away from her husband (lol, Gojo in this case) in order to protect them in a way she deems is best. Maybe I’m a little nuts, I don’t know. (Actually I am a little eccentric, but that’s by the by).

Now this is totally just satosugu indulgent: I headcanon that Gojo also “protected” / was possessive of Geto by making a deal with Miguel since the latter said he would curse Geto if he died, lol. Especially in light of the latest chapter where Miguel said he was spared by Gojo. (And i reckon Gojo was respectful of Miguel being Geto’s family, so he spared him for that reason too). I mean, Gojo had to kill his best friend, but this was his burden to bear, you know? It’s almost sickeningly intimate to allow someone to end your suffering, and be entrusted with that too. Ugh, ouch, my heart…..

Edit: I’m reminded of that scene where Shoko reflects on loving neither of them, like Gojo, Geto didn’t want anyone to be alone anymore either. Geto said he didn’t feel happy from the bottom of his heart. Gojo felt lonely (although he said it got better at the airport scene). They weren’t alone, but probably felt it… because of the absence of their true/first love? Larue stating in the panels above that Geto wouldn’t wish for them to fight seems like a nod to what Geto believed happened between him and Gojo. Gojo raised allies - be strong, don’t be left behind. Geto a family - get along, don’t fight. Just pointing out what my take is on the parallels I’ve observed.

That ends the brief analysis portion of what I wished to convey about what appears to surround Geto. He may not have been depicted much in the series, but his presence has been felt through the eyes of many. It made me wonder why did Gege do this?

This author deliberately wrote multiple people in the verse to love and follow him (and spare him a death sentence for 10 years) despite not agreeing to his ideals.

Perhaps it isn’t Gege’s focus, understandably, to give us a lot more insight from Geto’s pov, but there is certainly some kind of narrative he is pushing to depict how this man, cruel yet kind, is somehow one of the few he seems to portray in this way more than others within the sorcerer world at the very least. That his life was somehow a tragedy that he might not have really known the love at all? I wonder what Gojo’s last words were to incite such a heartfelt reaction - well done? Welcome home? You did well? I love you? My one and only best friend? Sigh, I guess it’s a secret between them.

There are others who have written metas on Gojo and maternal energy. If I find it I’ll link it! Otherwise, search through my reblogs! So many fantastic writers and thinkers out there!

Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

322 notes · View notes

rabbitsrams · 7 months

Text

snowy mornings - jschlatt x reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit suggestive at the end :)

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: its not even close to winter but i wrote most of this in one sitting so enjoy hehe

(moodboard by me, pictures not mine)

The sun barely peeks past the clouds. Small sprinkles of snow are still falling from the gray sky as Schlatt leaves the house.

He's all bundled up. He's wearing at least four layers underneath his coat, something his mother always insisted he do. A hat that you got him as a gift is snug on his head and thermal gloves he's had since he was sixteen keep his hands warm.

He looks through one of the windows of the house as he walks to the sidewalk, knowing you are still sleeping. He wishes he could be back in bed with you. Wishes he could have you in his arms. Wishes he was wrapped in blankets with you by his side as the heater warms the room.

But he's got a shovel in his hand, carrying the thing over his shoulder while he goes to the corner of the block, freezing his ass off even through all the layers.

His poor neighbors, elderly and helpless. They always thanked him whenever he shoveled for them, asking their children to come over and bring him some baked goods once the afternoon came. He didn't do it for some reward or anything, he knew some fucker would try to fall on their unshoveled property and “sue them for all they're worth,” as he told you one time. He just wanted to help them out and make sure their pathways were cleared.

He forgot to bring headphones out, so instead of blasting King Krule and Radiohead, he listened to the scraping of the metal against the concrete. The scraping that echoed throughout the entire block, likely waking light sleepers from their slumber. You were one of those light sleepers, and yet you stayed asleep.

It was taxing going around the corner and back to his house to clear pathways for walkers alike. His neighbors would do it as well but in due time. They weren't early risers like he was. But only in the winter.

Memories of his father waking him and his brother up at ungodly hours to shovel after overnight blizzards crashed their way into New York. Those mornings were silent as well; it was like the grating scraping was music to his father's ears.

He managed to complete all the shoveling in less than an hour, his personal record.

Quickly walking back up the driveway as the sun completely rose, he placed the shovel against the garage and went back inside, shivering and stomping the snow out of his boots.

He yawned as he took his hat off. He placed it on the flat part of the handrail, looking at how the snow immediately started to melt into the fur. The gloves were next, he was shocked his fingers weren't completely numb. Then the jacket, also hastily hung next to yours, untouched since yesterday. The boots were left right by the door to be moved later as he walked up the stairs and to the bedroom where he discarded the extra layers.

He didn't see you stir as he entered the room. Even in your tired state, you could tell he was out of bed. You opened your eyes and saw him undressing, remaining in an old t-shirt from his father's college days and flannel pajama bottoms you often coveted.

You stretch, yawning softly. That gets his attention. He walks toward the bed and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You're shocked awake by how cold his nose is.

“You're so warm...” he says, your neck muffling his words.

“Baby, you're freezing,” you hum as you pull him into bed with you. “Did you go out and shovel?”

“I always do.”

“Aww...” you kiss him on the cheek as you wrap the blanket around him. “You're so good.”

He hums a response, cuddling close to you. He holds you tight against him, wrapping his limbs around you in an awkward manner.

“You are too fucking tall.” You joke.

“And you are too fucking beautiful,” He kisses your neck many times. “And warm.”

“Go back to sleep, honey. You need to rest.”

“'S long as I can hold you in my arms like this, I'll sleep forever.”

You giggle, your laughter turning into a soft yawn. “Even when you're tired as shit you're still corny...” Your eyes close as you begin to stroke his hair.

He wakes before you once more five hours later. Your hand is still resting on the side of his head while the hand where your wedding ring rests is closer to his face.

He shifts slightly so he can have a better view of you. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe, your nose too stuffed for you to breathe through it properly. He can see the gap between your two front teeth, something that makes your smile all the more beautiful.

You eventually wake to the sight of your husband watching you. He’s smiling softly, tiredness still present in his eyes. “Hey, you all warmed up?”

“I am… you’re so pretty…” He lays his head on your chest. You smile, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get something,” You say as you try to get out of bed. He tries to grab you and bring you back to bed. “Just give me ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You come back ten minutes later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’s sitting up at this point, a hand running through his messy hair. He smiles when he smells the steaming beverage and reaches his arms out as you place it on the bedside table. You get back into bed and snuggle close to him as he blows on the drink.

“You remembered the marshmallows…” Schlatt says, a yawn obstructing his words.

“Of course I did.” You say. He laughs softly and wraps an arm around you. He tries to take a sip of the hot chocolate but hisses in pain as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, fuck.”

“Burns?”

“Yeah,” Schlatt waves a hand in front of his open mouth to try and ease the pain.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You joke. He nods, leaning close to you. You grin as you cup his face in your hands, the hair on his muttonchops tickling your palms. You press your lips to his softly, letting out a soft noise of surprise when he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He tastes like hot chocolate and home.

When you pull away, his face is tinted red. “All better?” You ask, feeling your face heat up.

“Um…” Schlatt pretends to think for a moment. “I don’t think so.” He tugs at the hem of your, his, sleep shirt.

“Oh… well I definitely need to do something about that.” You raise your arms above your head and allow him to take the garment off before leaning in once again.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfiction #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt imagine #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt fic #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt x y/n #schlatt fluff #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfiction

418 notes · View notes

clavissionary-position · 1 month

Text

(Translation) Emma Turns Into a Bunny Again [His POV Story]

Gilbert's new (120k🙃) bonus-story for the My Honey's a Bunny event. The actual title of the story is "How to Properly Keep a Baby Rabbit."

Contains some sexual content. MDNI.

—

I was spending my days in contentment after bringing the little rabbit home from Rhodolite when this happened.

Gilbert: ......

(A rabbit...)

I'd fallen ill last night and decided to sleep in a separate room from Emma so she wouldn't notice.

But when I came to meet her this morning what I found instead was an actual rabbit.

The color of its hair and eyes were exactly the same as Emma's.

And the dress I'd gifted her earlier was now carelessly spread out on the floor.

Gilbert: [still shocked] Did you go and turn into a rabbit again?

When asked this, Emma began to nod repeatedly.

(Well this sure takes me back...)

Back when I'd been staying in Rhodolite, a rather unexpected event had occurred where Emma had turned into a rabbit.

I'd ultimately concluded it to be a dream at the time, and I was sure I was probably dreaming this time around, too.

However, dream or not, that didn't change the fact that Emma was now a rabbit.

Gilbert: Hehe, are you sure it's alright not to run from me this time?

(Even though you were so blatantly scared the last time.)

When I knelt down on the floor, Emma rushed over to me in a series of hops and began nuzzling my knee.

But then she suddenly froze-up for whatever reason and instead began repeatedly tapping me with her front paws.

(I can't really tell what you're trying to say, but... you're being so cute that it makes me want to immediately go get a cage ready for you.)

I picked up Emma the very literal little rabbit with my hands and raised her to my eye-level.

Her rabbit ears twitched as though she were trying to convey something to me.

Gilbert: Is there something you want to tell me?

With another series of nods, Emma took her short little paw and pointed to her own mouth.

(Oh, I see...)

[Flashback to his original event story]

Emma: H-hey, wait... I turned back...

Emma: ...Hold on, I'm naked!?

Gilbert: Completely naked.

[End flashback]

(If I recall correctly, it'd been a kiss that time that had returned her to her original form.)

Her cute, round eyes now were insisting I bring our faces closer.

Getting a request from such an adorable creature would make anyone want to do whatever it asked.

(However...)

Gilbert: I'm going prove to you that I still love you all the same even as a rabbit. Which is why... you understand, don't you?

(I won't let you kiss me that easily.)

Even though I understood what Emma was flying into a panic over trying to tell me, I hid that acknowledgement behind a smile.

(Wouldn't it be a waste to have you turn back right away when you're this cute?)

Gilbert: It's almost time, little rabbit.

Gilbert: I'm inviting some nobles from the region over today. I figure it's been a while since I've played the Conquering King.

After securing the little rabbit in my breast-pocket so she wouldn't fall, I began walking.

I felt like even the depressing stuff about to come could be enjoyable in itself with the little rabbit at my side.

I sat on the vile throne and gazed down upon the nobles bowing their heads.

Every time I assumed this position, I was reminded that I wasn't a man but a beast.

But I had the little rabbit sitting all small and quiet on my lap today, and so my mind was at peace.

(Looks like the nobles and soldiers alike are curious about Emma.)

Not that any of them would say a word about it.

Because they were quite aware that any imprudent remark here and now would only result in immediate beheading.

Gilbert: [grinning] Well, then, shall we start?

Gilbert: I've gathered you all here today for no other reason than to discuss the smuggling reports I've received.

The atmosphere grew tense at once.

I gently stroked the little rabbit with my palm when she, too, stiffened.

Gilbert: Those who have any idea about what I'm talking about should step forward now.

Gilbert: I'm in a good mood today. Which means as long as you don't lie, I might actually show a bit of mercy, you know?

Baron: My gravest apologies, Lord Gilbert.

One of the nobles bowing their heads rubbed his forehead against the floor.

Baron: It's true that we discovered a smuggling route within our territory. However, our house is not involved with it in any way whatsoever.

Baron: The matter is currently under investigation, and I have a progress report with me.

Baron: I'm truly sorry for not reporting it before you—

Gilbert: Oh, no, no, I wasn't talking about you.

Gilbert: My words were directed at the man groveling beside you.

Baron: Huh...

Earl: ...T-this is my first time learning about any smuggling—

Gilbert: Ohh, so that's what you're going with.

Gilbert: I was especially trying to show you mercy today, but what a shame.

(Even though I don't want to scare the little rabbit too much.)

When I turned my gaze to my lap I found the little rabbit looking up at me with worry.

(Are you worried about me or are you worried about the man? ...Because if it's the latter, I'll have no choice but to kill him.)

I gave her chin a little tickle as my way of saying things would be okay.

Gilbert: Earl, you used someone else's territory and then tried to pin the blame on them.

Gilbert: It's the deception that Obsidian so adores. But unfortunately, deception is also the very thing I despise most in this world.

Gilbert: I'll ask you one more time, though. Do you really not know anything about the smuggling?

Earl: ......

The man turned pale and held his tongue as I unleashed my murderous intent.

This was common behavior among liars.

Gilbert: ...I see. That's fine, then.

Gilbert: I don't want my adorable little rabbit to have to see any blood. And besides, it's not like there's really any clear evidence to begin with, right?

The earl's blatant show of relief was all-too-easy to understand.

Gilbert: But you know, it's your fault my precious little rabbit is so scared.

Gilbert: To be this frightened... Poor little thing.

(It's probably because of the murderous intent I'd unleashed... But he was the one who made me do so in the first place.)

Perhaps it was animal instinct that made her so sensitive to murderous intent that wasn't even directed at her.

The little rabbit trembled, but when I stroked my fingers between her ears, her tiny face nuzzled closer to me.

(Crap, I'm gonna smile.)

Gilbert: [managing to keep his cool] Well, at any rate, you're at fault for scaring my rabbit.

Earl: Lord Gilbert...?

Gilbert: Therefore, guilty. Of a grave crime on top of that. Put him in jail, Roderic.

Roderic: Yes, sir!

Earl: Wait a minute! No matter how you look at it, this is just—

Gilbert: Huh, what's that? You dare complain against me?

As I presented my usual smile, the room fell into silence at once.

(Let's see about detaining him on charges of intimidation of a rabbit until he comes clean.)

(...I'll handle whatever comes after when the little rabbit isn't looking... Hehe.)

Once the deceitful man was taken away, not one of the remaining nobles tried making eye-contact with me.

The only one who looked at me straight-on was the little rabbit.

(Another worried reaction.)

(...Is she telling me to show the man mercy? And yet that's not what I'm sensing.)

(What could it be, this unease...)

Baron: ...Lord Gilbert, we...

Gilbert: Oh, I'm finished with my business here, so feel free to retire. Thank you for your hard work.

Gilbert: But do keep this in mind.

Gilbert: —I will never tolerate corruption and deceit. Each and every one of you should give yourselves a good look if you wish to live a long life.

(You guys are my deception reserve group, after all.)

All the gathered nobles saluted in a panic and left the throne room with pale faces.

Gilbert: Come, little rabbit. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'll bathe you thoroughly as an apology.

Once the audience ended, I immediately put together a hot bath out of concern that I'd exposed her to a filthy atmosphere.

(Although half of it's just my mischievous spirit.)

Surprisingly, the little rabbit didn't show any restraint.

She obediently immersed herself in the hot water in the basin while firmly keeping her head raised.

(She still seems worried even though we left the throne room. ...Am I just imagining things?)

Gilbert: You hated this so much the last time, little rabbit. ...Aren't you embarrassed?

After I lathered my hands with plant-based soap and began stroking it along the little rabbit's fur, her eyes narrowed in relaxation.

(You have complete trust in me nowadays.)

After rinsing her with hot water, I wrapped her small body in a towel.

But just as I did, the little rabbit suddenly began flailing around violently.

Gilbert: Ahaha, are you only now getting embarrassed?

(I wonder if I accidentally touched some place funny.)

I gently held her close to my chest so I wouldn't drop her.

Taking that momentary advantage, the little rabbit nimbly hopped from my arms until the tip of her nose touched my lips.

(Oh...)

Emma: Whoa!

The rabbit turned into a person right before my eyes.

I obviously wasn't going to be surprised by this in the event it happened a second time.

But I couldn't help but stare fixedly when a wet, naked body appeared before me.

Emma: ....Please don't look at me like that.

Gilbert: [grins] I washed every inch of you, so there's nothing to be embarrassed about at this stage now, right?

Gilbert: But I definitely got careless there, didn't I.

(I never imagined I'd fall for such a basic trap.)

In normal cases I would have absolutely picked up on the little rabbit's ploy.

Gilbert: ...I'm disappointed in myself.

Emma: Hya—

A cute sound spilled from her lips when I bit her neck.

Whether she was a person or an animal, the little rabbit was utterly adorable.

Gilbert: I wonder if a rabbit will listen properly to whatever you say if you train it?

I slid my lips from her neck to her collarbone before descending to her breasts and gently biting the tip.

As I rolled her nipple with the tip of my tongue while taking in the soap's pleasant fragrance, Emma hurriedly tried to push my forehead away with her hand.

Gilbert: [smiling] What is it?

When I peered into her face I found her eyes wavering and trembling with worry, just like when she'd been an animal.

Emma: Gil...

Emma placed a hand on my forehead while looking like she might start crying at any moment.

Emma: I knew it... You have a fever!

Gilbert: [surprised] ......

Emma: Are you saying you didn't notice? Even though you're this hot to the touch?

(Ah... So that was the meaning behind the little rabbit's gaze.)

Gilbert: Hehe, or maybe I'm just aroused from seeing you naked?

Emma: That's ridiculous. Your hands are always cold when you undress me.

Emma: Let's head to bed at once!

Gilbert: When you put it like that—

Emma: I don't mean it in a pervy way, I genuinely just want you to rest!

Emma pulled my hand and forcefully dragged me to bed.

(...I'm okay, though...)

But just like that, I was laid against the sheets and put to bed.

Gilbert: [smiles] Little rabbit.

Emma: Do you need medicine?

Gilbert: ....Yes. That's right, I need medicine.

I swallowed what I was actually going to say and instead pulled Emma under the covers with me.

Gilbert: Hehe... I have an all-purpose medicine right here, so I imagine I'll get better in no time?

Emma: ...I pray that's what happens.

Emma nuzzled her face into my chest the same way she had when she'd been a rabbit.

She must have clearly noticed how fond the beast was of such an act.

(Baby rabbits are the weakest of creatures in this world.)

(Eaten up by beasts right away, and seeming like they'll die at the slightest thing...)

(Even so, you were the only one.)

(I met with loads of people today, but you were the only one who looked me in the eye and noticed something was wrong.)

(The brave and kind-hearted little rabbit...)

I hugged her hard. Tightly.

(Please let me feel that this isn't a dream.)

~fin

-----------

If it really is a dream again this time around, then he's having this dream while sleeping, sick, in a separate room. And even though he chose to do so because he didn't want Emma to notice that he's sick, this dream shows that what he actually wants is the exact opposite. I mean, it's Gilbert. Of course that's what he wants. To be comforted. And to catch Emma naked.

I hope he wakes up in Emma's arms. And I hope he gets scolded for trying to hide how he was feeling.

Disclaimer: I just throw stuff into translators online, so accuracy is not guaranteed. References: こくこく 1 | わけでもない 1 | この俺 1 | ともなれば 1 2 | やましい 1

#ikemen prince #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri translation folder

190 notes · View notes

realmsdelght · 1 year

Text

His Rogue Lady; Daemon Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: how Daemon met his Rogue Lady

Note: italics mean they are speaking in High Valyrian. Told from Daemon’s perspective. Also, reader is referred to as Lady Targaryen because she is married to Daemon, her house is not specified. The timeline is very messed up and different from the show/books, in this Viserys wants to wed Daemon to Rhea, not Alyssene

There is a flashback in the middle but its marked by separations in the beginning and end

Warning: MDNI! a tiny bit of smut, cursing, and blood

Word count: 1980

Daemon Targaryen stood proud, it had been a big night for his knights.

Blood adorned his face and his Dark Sister, but not his gold cloak. His smirk never left his face, it gave him pleasure to see the fear on the face of the scum of King’s Landing. As much as he liked to see the prisoners off to their cells, and to hear them begging for mercy, he had a more important place to be. Just like Dark Sister, the prince had a thirst for blood, but most days he had a thirst for something else, his soulmate.

Most people assumed the Rogue Prince would only settle down once his brother forced him into marriage, and he almost did. But that was until he met his heart. Daemon was amazed at how a person can change once you get to know them. What was once a lady of the court that he, and most men, lusted after, had become the most important person in his life. He could remember exactly when his feelings changed from lust to burning passion.

If the Rogue Prince were a dragon he would have been breathing fire down the halls of the Red Keep, melting the stone and iron down alike. Things had started looking up for him and his brother, Viserys had just recently named him Commander of the Gold Cloaks, and their training with the prince had finally started to pay off. But of course, Otto had gotten into Viserys’ head and he had decided that it would be a good idea to wed him to Rhea Royce of Runestone.

‘How dare he think that woman would be a good choice for a Targaryen Prince,’ Daemon thought. His fiery thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps behind him. The prince wasn’t sure who would dare attempt to approach him in this state, but he was surprised once he turned around. One of the most beautiful ladies of the court stood before him. Daemon had seen her before with his good-sister Aemma, the Lady was always quiet, but her beauty always attracted the eyes of men roaming the Keep. But the prince had never bothered to speak to her.

“Prince Daemon, I wanted to congratulate you on your betrothal,” the Lady surprised the Prince by speaking Valyrian.

“There is no need, sweetling. I’m contemplating jumping off the balcony if it means I won’t have to wed Lady Royce,” Daemon walked closer to her.

She smiled, the most beautiful smile the Prince had ever seen, “or you could just push Lady Royce off the balcony before the wedding,” the Rogue Prince felt himself melt as he watched the Lady’s face as she proposed murder. It was in that moment that the prince knew this lady was no sheep, and that he would never let her go.

The prince rushed towards his shared chambers. After the exhilarating night he had, all he could think about was his wife. He didn’t bother to greet the guard outside his door, he threw it open and one of his guards closed it as he walked in.

“How was your night, husband?” He heard her sweet voice greet him as he walked in.

Daemon was met with the sight of his beautiful wife, only wearing a thin nightgown, holding two goblets of wine in her hands. He walked towards her, taking one of the goblets from her small hand, his other arm went around her waist, pulling the lady closer to him. The Rogue Prince didn’t even bother to clean the blood off his face, he knew his wife preferred him that way, having the spoils of his victory splattered on his face.

“Wonderful. You should have seen their faces once they saw my gold cloak,” he smirked at the memory.

“I bet it was a sight to see,” she caressed his arm covered by the gold cloak, “my beautiful husband enforcing the laws of the realm, delivering justice with his Dark Sister, making the city’s criminals weep and crumble at his feet.”

“Anything to keep my beloved wife safe,” the man finished his goblet of wine, “How was your day?”

“Boring, as most days without you are,” she smiled at her husband, sipping the last of her own wine, before setting both goblets on the table.

Daemon stepped away from his wife, and started taking his armor off, “well, I heard my love was up to no good today.”

The Lady giggled, approaching her husband and helping him with his armor, “some of the ladies of the court had very strong opinions about why the Prince’s wife hasn’t given him a child yet,” she pulled his gold cloak off, letting it fall on the floor, “of course, there must be something wrong with me, my womb must be cursed. But then one of them said that maybe it was the Rogue Prince’s fault, maybe he preferred his soldiers or whores to his wife. So I told them that my husband fucks me better than their fat husbands could ever do to them,” she moved closer, almost kissing her husband, “and I told them that if they ever spoke about my husband like that ever again I would feed them to Caraxes.”

Daemon faked a gasp, before smiling again, “I do not believe Caraxes would eat meat as rotten as theirs,” his wife giggled, pulling him down for a kiss. His hands moved from her waist to her thighs, slowly pulling her nightgown up, “now I must fuck my wife. Please be loud sweetling, so the cunts of the court can hear you.”

“Daemon,” the Prince heard his brother call.

He turned around, bowing slightly, “yes, Your Grace.”

“I have urgent matters I need to discuss with you, brother,” Viserys headed into his study, so the two could have privacy.

“Did something happen? Is it my Lady?” The princes started worrying.

“No, no. Nothing happened. But this matter does involve your wife,” the king said, “Otto has brought to my attention that some members of the council are worried.”

The prince sat down, “worried about what?” He was already bored by the mention of Otto Hightower and the council.

“They worry you still don’t have an heir, you have been married long enough,” the King told his brother.

“I don’t give a fuck about what your council thinks.,” the Prince stood up, ready to leave.

“People have been talking Daemon,” the King tried to reason with his brother.

“We are the blood of the dragon. I do not concern myself with the opinion of the common people,” Daemon said with fire in his voice.

“These are our people Daemon,” Viserys hoped his brother would understand.

“Very well, you may tell your council that we did not have children because we do not wish for children yet,” the prince walked closer to his brother, “and I do not wish to share my wife yet, even with a child.”

“Gods be good,” the king whispered as he watched his brother’s back as he left the room.

The King had known talking to his brother would not work, but his council, especially Otto, had been adamant about the king talking to the prince. But what the king did not know is that he had given his brother an idea. Daemon Targaryen knew what he had to do, and suddenly the idea of his beautiful wife carrying their child did not seem so terrible.

The Prince strouted towards his chambers, he could not wait to see his wife again, and maybe when he told her the council she would threaten them herself.

“My dear wife, you look beautiful,” the prince said, walking into their shared chambers. The lady sat by her vanity, adorning herself with jewelry for the feast.

The king was having a big feast for Queen Aemma’s name day, and as always Daemon’s wife dressed her part. Her house’s colors were long forgotten and a black dress with blood-red embroidery adorned her body. Daemon felt aroused seeing his wife in his House colors, her colors now.

“Thank you, husband,” she looked at her prince from the mirror, “how was your day?” She asked. Daemon walked closer to her, he took the hairbrush from the vanity, softly brushing her hair.

“Interesting,” the man started doing small braids on her hair, “I learned the council is rather concerned with our life. And that you need to threaten more people with Caraxes.”

“What do you mean?” She turned around so she could face her husband.

“Viserys approached me today, he told me his council is worried you have not given me a child yet,” the prince told her.

His lady now sported a suggestive smile on her face, “and what did you tell him?”

“I told him that I am not ready to share my beautiful wife just yet,” he knelt down in front of his wife, “but if it is what the people want,” the prince smirked, pulling his wife’s dress up to her thighs.

“We must give them what they want,” she bent down, slipping her hand down her husband’s trousers.

“You are a tease, my sweet,” the prince groaned, as she moved her hands.

“I am simply preparing you, husband. You need an heir, don’t you,” she moved her hand again, earning a moan from the prince.

“Then I must spill my seed inside of you wife,” Daemon moved his wife’s hand, getting to his feet. He placed his hands on his wife’s thighs, lifting her on top of the vanity.

“Before you can spill your seed, you must fuck me hard, my love,” she smirked. She pushed his trousers down, freeing his cock.

“My dear…,” Deamon stopped himself, lifting his wife’s dress to her waist again, “... wife,” he groaned with pleasure as he slipped himself inside of her.

“Fuck,” the Lady moaned, biting her husband’s shoulder as Daemon pounded her hard.

The prince was sure his wife had drawn blood from him, and that only made him more aroused and in love with his lady. Their shared chambers were filled with groans and moans. His Lady was as feral as the Rogue Prince, she marked his skin deep purple as he took her. Obscenities in both the common tongue and High Valyrian slipped out of the Prince’s mouth only made his Lady moan loader and bite harder.

Daemon felt his wife clench around him, “I love you, my sweet.”

“I have missed you inside me, my Daemon,” she whispered as she felt herself getting close.

Hearing his wife calling him hers made his cock twitch inside of her, which only made the prince get rougher. The prince pulled his Lady’s hair, making her look into his face, “you will soon carry my heirs,”

“Maybe that will show the ladies of the court who the Rogue Prince belongs to,” the prince gripped her thighs so hard he was sure his hand would be imprinted on them. Their moans grew louder as the two reached their highs together.

The couple took their time to compose themselves, being careful not to waste Daemon’s seed and to make sure the lady’s dress was spotless.

The prince and his Lady walked into the Great Hall holding hands, the smile on their faces was brighter than the stars that shone in the sky. The King was happy to see his brother so happy, so pleased he decided to ignore the bruises and bites on his and his wife’s necks, something he knew he would hear about later on.

As the Lady and her husband approached the high table, Viserys pulled his brother into a hug, “you are late,” the King pointed out, smiling at Daemon.

“I was making an heir,” Daemon smirked as he was sure the whole table had heard what he and his late were doing before the feast.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #deamon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #daemon x reader

1K notes · View notes

ryomens-vixen · 8 months

Text

SUKUNA FLUFF! + HEADCANONS

Summary: It's more like we're "comforting" him.

Mentions: Sukuna being vulgar as usual, unwanted child, pregnancy, SA, 🤏 NSFW, Angst? idk what else. Good luck.

Word count: Ion fuckin know sis, reblog & ❤ please.

Lord Ryomen doesn't usually talk about his personal life as it was never important to him at all. Who were you, a mere concubine, a toy to him, to question him about anything regarding his life before this temple, before these servants, before he was given the name "King Of Curses".

One day you were leaving his room as you did almost every night after an the usual escapade of skin slapping, animalistic groans, moaning that could've been mistaken for ritualistic chanting. You were his favorite after all, but you couldn't help over hearing some of the head servants discussing the childhood of the four armed man you had just laid with.

"Do you think Master Ryomen... May have fallen for that one concubine he sends for almost more than he does the others?"

"You bet mind your tone, unless you want to be dismantled like the rest, we done want urame telling the Lord now do we..."

"I.. I deeply apologize, but doesn't it-"

"Absolutely, not! Master Ryomen is incapable of loving someone. If you can even consider favoritism as some form of love, then fine. But in love? Preposterous- Master Ryomen wasn't ever loved as a baby not by his mother or father. So what on earth makes you think he could love anyone?"

"Ah.. I suppose you have a point..."

"Of course I do, besides, THAT concubine is an odd one it wouldn't be long till he's tired of her and casts her aside like his other old toys. If you think about Master Ryomen is like a man child of some sorts, we take care of him, bring him new toys all for him to break them when he gets bored, then we're stuck cleaning up the mess..."

Just listening to the way his own servants speak amongst themselves about the man they serve made your heart absolutely ache. If he truly was never graced with the loving touch of a mother and father, then that must explain a lot of his behaviors. Were you truly his favorite? If that were true then it is an honor to be favorited by such a powerful entity, but it didn't make your heart pity and ache for him any less.

Every since you were brought to his temple as an offering from the village you had grown up in- All the stories that had been told about the king of curses ravaging, Pillaging, completely massacring villages, towns, anyone, and anybody in his path. Sacrifices of children, women and any alike were made to please him and keep him at bay.. Everyone feared him, but you.

The village you grew up in...a village full of men, where had all the women gone you always wondered, but that could only be answered by one thing.. They were sacrificed as well. Ryomen was your salvation in the hell hole that was this village..all they did was use you for the most dirtiest, filthiest, most deranged desires it was far worse than anything Ryomen could ever put you through.

Being a Toy for him for the best thing life could have ever offered to you, many think that this would be something unfortunate, but you.. You loved every bit of it just was much as you had come to love The King of curses himself. Always gentle with him even though he is always very rough with his playthings, showering him with the utmost respect, affection, and adoration. This all left Sukuna quite...perplexed. Why we're you not begging for your life? Why did you not put of a fight with him while being balls deep in your tight core? Why were you always so happy to see him? So kind? So caring? To be honest it made him needy in a way- just like tonight when he kick you out of his chambers.. He didn't actually want you to leave, but was too stubborn to say so. He wanted you by his side at all times and even caught himself fantasizing about massacring the other concubines so that he may have only you to himself.

Sukuna found himself feeling rather the disgusted when the other would dote onto him or throw themselves at him in a sorry attempt of gaining his "affection."

While he laid in bed poundering deep into thought about the current events, about the tightness in his chest he got every time you came into thought. It was all interrupted by his chamber doors bursting opening as he sat up in bed completely ok guard his intense gaze met your watery eyes.

"Women, I thought I told you to-"

"Lord Ryomen! Please hear me even if it's only for a second, I-"

"Oh? You choose now to beg for your precious life? Well, go on amuse me why don't you."

"Lord Ryomen... I- I love you! And not as a means of trying to gain your affection. I know you may not truly grasp the concept of...my feelings for you, but they are true. At least to me- "

The sound of your confession was nearly drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart, his chest only became tighter after hear those three words- it disgusted him. To know he was loved? No no that's not it- to know that deep down even though it confused him, caused him great uneasiness, worry even- it angered him to no end on the inside.. Why? Why did he feel this? He was no longer human and yet- Ryomen's heart it still beat? It still felt? It was the cause of these unwanted feelings, this need to be more gentle, this want to utter those three words that it impossible for him to not gag at the thought of them falling from his lips. Oh how he just wanted to rip his own heart out and dispose of it, but what would be the point? Would he still long for her gentle touch? To hear her call out his name as the two made "Love" to one another? To see that heart warming smile she wore every time he called for her?

"I know I'm just a peasant.. A toy for your entertainment, but Lord Ryomen I swear to you my feelings for you are true. I do not fear your touch, your power, or your presence in the slightest for I have been through worse... More than anyone can imagine. So until the day you are bored of me- I want you to know that you are more than just The King Of Curses, to me..you are my salvation, my home. You deserve to be respected because of how powerful you are- not out fear.. My Lord this is your playground and we are merely the pests that reside in it."

After some time, the only thing that could be heard was the silence between the two. Having stared at him to long- your hands clasped together, head bowing staring directly at your feet. Ryomen did not utter a single word or demand your way.. Just a long drawn out stare- hell if you were still looking you would be able to see the unreadable expression smeared across his face, but all you could do was stand there in a bow only to then heard the shuffling of his bed sheets to his feet gracing the floor as he stood up out of bed.

For a moment the thought of your life being over was the last thing to cross your mind out of any other thoughts until he finally spoke sounding as amused as ever.

"Hmm, did you rehearsal that? Y'know I'm not to fond of plays, but my, my, did a shitty little pest such as yourself put on quite the show for me? It what I would say if I were any amused-"

Did you mess up? He spoke in a more annoyed tone this time- maybe.. Maybe he's pulling your leg. Or maybe...

"Say it again-"

What? Was your first thought.

"That.. I am just a peasant-"

"No, no you incompetent pile of flesh- your affection. Say. It. Again."

"I- I love you, Lord Ryomen even if you are incapable of harboring those feelings yours i-"

That was it, all the fuel he needed to aggressively take you into his four arms, his lips crashing directly into yours, it was sloppy, but full of passionate. He squeezed your body so tightly it began to hurt even, but anything, anything to stop his heart from beating the way it did for you, and yet it only beats faster. Ryomen's entire life as he knew it changed so drastically that night, going from an unwanted child...to someone who was loved to deeply by one person. It not that he cared for it being feared by all was the best feeling imaginable for him it was better than being loved, but by you? It meant so much more he couldn't even begin to grasp it, but he knew that eventually that would be no way of hiding the way he felt much longer. He NEEDED you, he CRAVED you, if he could you could be the air that he breathes, but his pride and ego was far to big for that.

"Say it again-"

He held you down by your wrists and waist, his grip was so tight that you could almost feel yourself bruising like a fruit. Yet when you look up at him the expression he held was quite soft versus the threatening tone of his demand.

"I.. Love you, Lord Ryomen."

"Again!"

"I love you!"

"...Again"

"I love you... Ryomen Sukuna."

You feel the grip he had on your wrists letting up enough for there to be some wiggle room. His face became quite deadpanned the more he demanded you to say it "Again." Placing both your hands gently upon his cheeks giving them a repeated caress with your thumbs.

"My Lord, I love you."

"Again.. Y/N"

"I Love you."

"...."

"I love you."

"...."

"Ryomen..I love you."

He breath hitched, something about his eyes bothered him, they burned as he stared at his beloved concubine.

"What... What the hell are you some kind of witch? A damned sorcerer? W-what the hell are you doing to me-"

"I've done nothing, but love you my Lord, I could never dream of harming someone as- My- My Lord are you...?"

"Shut up, wench! You know you are at my mercy? I could tear you limb, from limb."

"Then I'll accept my fate, I love you..."

Oh your fate was sealed alright, in an unexpected turn of events.

[Now for some Dad!Kuna shall we?]

Dad!Kuna who was quite opposed to having a child of his own, but later convinced himself that it'd be best to have an heir to terrorize the world whenever he left this world.

Dad!Kuna who secretly hoped for you to birth him a son as he wasn't to find of the thought of having a daughter...or so he thought.

Dad!Kuna who desperately wanted to hold you in his strong arms thinking it would ease the pain from the labor you were going into. The sound of your pained screams did not sit well with him at all, this new feeling of... Anxiety washed over him as he waited upon his throne of bones.

Dad!Kuna who perked up at the shriek like cries of his new born baby, as much as he wished to dash into the room to see his new born child, he was overcome by his pride and worn an uninterested face to keep his reputation intact.

Dad!Kuna who looked even more disinterested when told that he has a beautiful healthy daughter, a damn daughter, how is a women suppose to rule? Terrorize? Be feared? He thought. Great- just great- this is now at all what he wanted.

Dad!Kuna who never once held his daughter, let alone taken care of her. But glanced at her a few times. One time he had followed you in the child's bedroom as she began to cry at dead of night- when he took a long look at his daughter, she looked like a combination of the both of you..beautiful. He huffed, and went back to his chambers only to be greeted by you and his weeping daughter who you just couldn't seem to get back to sleep.

"Ryomen do you mind holding our little Angel while I go fetch her blankie?"

"Ugh..." He grumbled allowing you to place "angel" on his chest as you rushed to find her blankie. Sukuna had a pout across his face as he watch Angel go from weeping and squirming around on his chest like some sort of worm to a little soft whimper as she began to calm down. Maybe it was the sound of his beating heart that soothed his fussy daughter or maybe it was the comfort of his intense presence. As long as she was done crying then he'd allow it, placing a hand on her small back almost as if he were guarding her from God knows what. Sukuna stared at his daughter in contentment.

Secretly, you stood off to the side of your doorway as you had already started to pick up on Sukuna being the source of your daughter's comfort. Even though he seemed to have no interest in her, your Angel seemed to be quite connected to her father, it was quite cute to witness.

Dad!Kuna who would dread the days where you would leave him with the baby to take care of outside business away from the temple, and as much as he would like to turn his daughter's care over to his servants, he just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving alone.

Dad!Kuna who would rest atop of his throne only to be startled by the shrieking of his "Angel", but this cry wasn't like the others, it sounded like nails against a chalkboard it made him want to tear out of own his as he angrily made his way to the bedroom she was left in. She's just a baby, she doesn't know any better, she'll grow onto you. These words Sukuna tried to keep in mind as you have said them time and time again as he scooped her up into his four arms trying to gently bounce her how he saw you do once or twice.

"Shut up-"

"I said Stop your excessive whaling!"

There was a brief moment of silence after he yelled at her, those wet, big, beady eyes staring back at him, then the crying started up again, but much much louder sending Sukuna in a slight panic as he just couldn't think of what to do except lay down with her on his chest.

"Shhh.. Shhh.. I- ugh I'm here, stop fucking crying already."

"Daddy's here.."

Dad!Kuna who fell asleep guarding his little angel on his, waking up a few times whenever she would wriggle, or kick her little feet, or grab at him chest.

Dad!Kuna who would barely allow you or anyone to hold her unless she needed to be changed or fed, he just felt this animalistic urge to protect his little baby girl from anything and everything.

Dad!Kuna would praise her for every little achievement, a big burp, pissing on a servant, learning how to crawl. Sometimes he would place her on the floor and watch as she would crawl after him frantically, sukuna found this so amusing in the cutest way possible even her little frustrated baby noises were cute to him.

Dad!Kuna who would sometimes let her play with his stomach mouth.

Dad!Kuna would laugh maniacally at her attempts of mimicking his intimidating growls and bellowing whenever he was annoyed or displeased.

Dad!Kuna who hated hearing his little girl cry for him each time he left the temple to do what? Cause mayhem? Her little "Dada!" Would absolutely tug at his heart. Her screams for him as he pushed on made him want to turn back and just hold her in his arms.

Dad!Kuna who would encourage her to walk on her own and to not cry when she fails because she is strong like her father.

Dad!Kuna who would one day insist- no no demand that you give him another for no other reason than "continuing his bloodline" when really he wanted another child because he was absolutely in love with the first one that he need to have a second as he was getting a handle on this whole Fatherhood thing.

Dad!Kuna would tell his daughter stories of his reign of terror as if she could even remotely understand a word that came out if his mouth.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst

496 notes · View notes

aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 6 months

Text

ZĪRTYS PERZYS.

Precious Delights (2/5)

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, teasing, breeding, size kink, size difference, slight humiliating/gaslighting?, slapping, teasing, mentions of blood, cutting of lips and hands, Valyrian wedding, female reader (no mentions of appearance besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.7 K

Maegor had kept true to his words. A sennight had passed until you stood in the Throne Room opposite him, the High Septon carrying out the wedding ceremony.

But no matter how lavish it all was, how many people attended the wedding and its feast – it was not what you wanted.

And your husband knew.

For all the years you had been around Maegor, following him from a very young age, there had been enough occasions where you two had talked about your ancestors and the Doom that came over them. Therefore, you had more than one chance to tell him about your desire to wed in their traditions one day, regardless of whether you and your betrothed would share the blood of Old Valyria or not.

Your wedding in front of the people of court and the High Septon merely seemed to be a means to an end to keep the smallfolk satisfied. You were wife number four ever since he ascended the throne four years ago, even though you currently were the only wife he had. The women that came before you had been dead for less than a year – something you hadn’t known of until he had told you the morning you followed him and Balerion to King’s Landing.

And with the bedding following the ceremony and feast, you were officially wed… in the eyes of the Faith.

But that did not mean it was official to you.

Not more than nine days had passed since you left the castle of Dragonstone for the Red Keep, but it still felt completely different when you set foot on the island again.

Many hours had you spent in Aegon’s Garden prior to your father’s death, surrounded by its roses and tall trees and basking in the peace and quiet. The familiar and pleasant scent of pine was enough to calm your fluttering nerves and brought back the memories of when your life had not been plagued by death and war.

A gentle breeze blew through the tresses of your hair as Grand Maester Benifer led you through the ceremony, acting as an officiant and the third witness to your union – your mother and aunt being the other two.

The ancient headpiece adorning the top of your head was not heavy, yet your pounding heart made you overly aware of it being there, and you could not wait to be allowed to take it off again. Even though dozens of Valyrian women before you had worn it to their weddings, it merely was a coincidence you had found the traditional marital robes you and your uncle now wore. They had been neatly stored away in a dusty chest in the depths of the Sea Dragon Tower, not even Maegor had been able to find them for his wedding to Alys.

Sitting somewhat tautly around his muscular arms and shoulders, Maegor’s robe did not fit him as well as yours fit, appearing as if it had waited all its life to be worn by you on this special occasion.

Having read about the ceremony and traditions over and over again, you knew by heart what was to come, yet your eyes still widened a bit as Maegor raised a fine shard of dragonglass, zīrtys perzys in the tongue of your ancestors. Awe and fear alike blazed through the purple of your eyes, whereas you spotted a hint of something different in the gaze of the man opposite of you. Affection? Or even love?

Your hands trembled slightly as Maegor placed the shard in one of them, knowing exactly what was to come and to do since this was not his first wedding in the customs of Old Valyria. Hesitantly bringing it up to his face, the tremors did not ease with you dragging it over his bottom lip. The blood that gathered at the cut was no surprise, however, it still unsettled you to think of your lips undergoing the same procedure just a few moments later.

The gentleness with which he took the shard from your trembling hand was little comfort, and as he cut your bottom lip in return, you wondered how he had endured it without wincing as you did.

After he had gathered some of your blood from the cut on the pad of his thumb, he dragged it over your forehead, drawing the Valyrian glyph for fire on it. You did the same, the glyph for blood written on his.

A shiver ran down your spine as you carefully watched him cut his hand without any sign of discomfort or pain, figuring he was just as savage and brutal as everyone around you had said, used to the pain and to worse. But this was not about savagery or experience, it was about your union, to be wed by blood and fire.

Only then it dawned on you just how much you had longed for this to happen – and how long you had waited for it.

All the years you had spent cross with your father for not offering Maegor your hand in marriage, and even sending him into exile to Pentos, seemed ridiculous now. If only you had known back then that you were going to end up in his arms anyways.

“Issa aōha pālegon,” Maegor whispered, his gruff voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and excited roaring of dragons in the far distance. It is your turn.

Staring at his cut palm for a bit too long, you examined how the blood gathered in the curvature of it, and how much it actually was. The shard of dragonglass was in his other hand for you to take, and everyone around waited for you to repeat the gesture and cut your hand.

But you could not bring yourself to do it.

Every time you thought about your wedding, you had never considered the pain that came with it. And now, it was all that was on your mind.

Shaking your head, you swallowed thickly, flexing the fingers of your still outstretched hand. “Kostan daor,” you muttered, your voice breaking slightly, causing Maegor’s eyes to widen. Was he afraid? you wondered. “Kessa ōdrikagon.” I can not. It will hurt.

When he tried to place the shard in your palm, you pulled it back, yet your uncle was quick enough to seize your wrist with a strength he had only rarely displayed towards you before. “Gaomagon ziry,” he warned, a sharp edge to his voice that prompted the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Do it.

You whimpered, more so as the cold dragonglass pressed against the thin skin of your wrist, close to cutting it. “Gaomagon–Gaomagon ziry syt nyke,” you stuttered, “... kostilus.” Do-Do it for me… please.

He tilted his head to the side at your words, sizing you up, the grip on your wrist loosening almost at the same time. The slight crease showing between his brows indicated his confusion - or mayhaps even annoyance - yet he still complied. Taking in a sharp breath as the shard sliced your skin, the singing pain did not lessen, especially not when your hands united in a firm grip to make your one bloodline stronger.

Replacing the shard of dragonglass with a goblet whose content was unknown to you, it was Grand Maester Benifer speaking, while you both took generous swigs of the dark liquid.

“Let it be known that Maegor of House Targaryen and Y/N of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Your heart pounded in your throat, and the coppery taste on your tongue made you aware that you had licked your nicked lip in anticipation of what was to come.

“You may speak the vows,“ the Grand Maester continued.

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” Maegor said, looking down at you with admiration flickering in his eyes. I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.

And then it was your turn.

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” you replied, with eyes locked with his. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.

Your husband recklessly threw the goblet aside to snake his arm around your waist, drawing you closer towards him with your cut hands still connected. He briefly looked over to the Grand Master and the Dowager Queens, before focusing his attention back on you.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he cited in the Common Tongue, to which Grand Maester Benifer bowed his head once, and dipped forwards to claim your lips in a kiss that was shy of being reserved.

Your marital robes and smallclothes lay in a scattered trail from the door to the bed, some still pooling around Maegor’s ankles as he held you tightly in his strong arms with your legs slung around his waist. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, pressed against his lower abdomen and generously coated in your arousal.

It felt as if your lips had not parted once since your kiss in Aegon’s Garden, still as fervent and demanding as it had been back then.

Maegor tipped his head back slightly to break the kiss, yet yours tilted forward to chase his lips eagerly. He tsked at that and grabbed your chin to keep your head still, allowing him to press his lips to your jaw before they wandered to the curve of your shoulder. His teeth nibbling your skin, in combination with his tongue dragging over the light marks they left, sent you into a frenzy, distracting you enough from the sudden pressure of his cock prodding at your entrance.

He had placed a large hand under your arse, effortlessly lifting your body so he was able to grip the base of his stiff member, tugging on himself twice before holding it steady to line himself up with your entrance.

You felt him slide inside inch for inch at an agonizingly slow pace as if he wanted to make sure you were aware of every vein and ridge of his cock that dragged along your quivering walls. But the tightness of your cunt was practically sucking him inside, eager for him to fill you to the brim

Where you took in a sharp breath to brace for the sting that came with the intrusion, Maegor released a husky groan, slightly muffled with his lips still on your shoulder. You tilted your head back to moan shakily, the grip of your legs around his waist tightening in an attempt to lure him inside quickly.

Your back arched against him, but the tight squeeze of your arse was enough to stop any further movements, pain and pleasure alike blossoming within your belly.

“Gods be good,” you whimpered, burying your head in the curvature of Maegor’s neck the moment you spotted him carefully studying your face contort in pleasure. You felt his hand trailing from your arse up your spine with feather-like movements, until it settled at the back of your head, entangling in your hair and tugging on it to yank it back.

You winced slightly, which probably made him aware that he had used a bit too much of his strength, immediately releasing your tresses. “Do not hide from me,” he crooned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “Let me see how good I am making you feel.”

Swallowing thickly, a meek nod was all you could do in return. It was the admiration in his gaze and the determination in his voice that rendered you speechless. Despite the fervor in his pleasure and the long-suppressed desire he felt towards you, Maegor had never been more careful, rawer and more vulnerable with you.

He had one arm snaked around your waist and the other hand still buried in your hair, solely relying on them to support your body, keeping you mounted on his cock as he slowly prowled towards the bed. And even though you had adjusted to his size, neither of you moved.

Carefully laying you down on the bed, it was inevitable for him to slip out in the process, leaving you pouting and yearning for him to fill you again.

He stood in front of you completely naked, truly a sight to behold, and it still had not fully settled that you were to witness that sight for as often as you wanted from now on for the rest of your lives.

The light the candles granted was dim, yet bright enough for the beads of sweat to highlight his pale skin, accentuating his rippling muscles. His cock stood tall against his lower abdomen, appearing painfully hard as it glistened with your arousal.

“Stop the sulking,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice.

You licked your lips, your eyes flickering between his and his cock. “Come here and make me.”

Maegor chuckled dryly but was convinced enough to join you on the bed. You scooted further towards the headboard and spread your legs for him, making enough space to accommodate his bulky frame.

Kneeling between your parted legs, he leaned forward and grabbed the headboard with one hand, towering over your small frame. The other clasped around the base of his hard member, aligning it yet again with your entrance.

You anticipated him to enter you right away, a little moan of excitement leaving your lips even before you felt him prodding against your cunt. A mocking scoff left his throat once he noticed what had happened, shooting you a knowing glance that had you cowering beneath him from embarrassment.

Mayhaps it was you eagerly anticipating it, just wanting to tease you and keep you waiting a few moments longer, but Maegor instead dragged the tip of his cock through your soaked mound, generously coating it in your slick. As he repeatedly rubbed it over the little bud at the apex of your legs, you couldn’t stifle a whimper from slipping past your lips, your hips rutting against him instinctively.

A wide smirk was plastered over his features, his gaze wandering down your frame, settling on what was happening between your legs. “Aren't you a naughty one, mh?” he said, making eye contact as he still teased your pearl, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to him.

Heat blossomed on your cheeks, and you looked to the side. “Stop the teasing… please,” you whimpered, coyly. “I-I need you.”

Maegor stopped the teasing to pinch your chin, tilting your head for you to meet his eyes, the tip of his stiff member nestled between your soaked lips but not pushing inside. “But sweetling,” he started, the name spoken in a condescending manner that made your skin crawl. You definitely should not have liked him talking to you like that. “I am not teasing you in the slightest,“ he crooned, “I am simply being affectionate. Do you want me to stop?”

With your eyes wide and lips parted, you meekly shook your head, the intensity of his gaze as he awaited to hear your voice putting your body on fire. “N-No.” You weren’t sure what to expect if you would ask him to stop, somewhat anxious to offend him in any way.

His cock was so close but also too far away, and while you were certain he could go another hour without being inside of you, you lacked that composure. Trying to angle your hips to the point the tip of his cock was breaching your entrance, Maegor firmly connected his hand with the side of your thigh – not as strong as you had anticipated, but still strong enough to have a hot pain spread from your flesh right to your cunt. A renewed wave of arousal seeped out of your core right onto his cock.

“My my, would you look at that?” Maegor cooed, bathing you in a sense of feigned safety and calmness. “Who would have thought that my little niece is such a harlot?”

He placed his large hand on the spot where he had slapped you, soothing the stinging flesh with gentle movements. It was a stark contrast to the initial slap, and even though it confused you, you relished in the gentleness.

“Mae-Uncle,” you mewled, pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a pout. “... please.”

An impish smirk pulled on the corners of his lips. “Please, what?”

“By the Seven,” you whined, balling your hands to fists at your sides in frustration. “Just-Just give me what I desire!”

Maegor raised his brow, seemingly impressed by that little outburst and the lack of coyness with which you said it – completely different from how you had acted before. “Oh, how could I ever say no to you?” he rasped, hungrily licking his lips. His hand wrapped around his cock again, and he kept it in place as he pushed inside in one, swift thrust, forcing himself into your tight heat.

You forgot how to breathe as you tried to adjust to his size again. It felt as if he was harder than before, if that was even possible, filling you to the brim at once. You clenched down around him, and the choked gasp he released made your heart swell with pride.

Despite the slight aching of him being a bit too rough and big for you, an immense pleasure started to blossom in your belly, granted by his curved length plunging in and out of you.

A dip in the mattress next to your head, and Maegor had supported the weight of his bull-like frame on one elbow, inevitably bringing his chest closer to yours. His other hand had long abandoned the headboard to grab your thigh, hoisting your leg around his waist.

You drowned in the proximity. His weight pinning you to the mattress, the warmth that emanated from him, his scent — it all pushed you into a frenzy.

Maegor was balls deep inside of you, bullying the spot that had you seeing stars and hiccuped your breathing. As you looked to the side with your eyes squeezed shut, he was quick to cup your chin, tilting it back to force your eyes to meet his.

“How does this feel?” he asked, uncharacteristically tender.

You arched your back, arms wrapping around his thick neck to bury your hands in his short hair. “So good,” you whined, the words swallowed by Maegor pressing his lips to yours.

You tugged on his silver tresses, walls squeezing him so tight you couldn’t even tell if they had even unclenched before. The kiss was fervent, full of passion, and was all teeth and tongue – unlike any kisses you had shared before.

It might have been the feeling of your marriage finally being legitimate to the both of you, or you two being completely alone without any prying eyes and ears or people of court, but even the bedding was different from the many times you had shared a bed before.

“Such a good girl,” Maegor grunted against your lips, rutting his hips into yours. “Mayhaps I shall reward you tonight and put a babe in you. Would you like that?”

Keening at the praise and the significance of his words, your walls started to flutter around him, clenching and unclenching without a rhythm.

“Yes, please,” you slurred, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Please, give me a child.” You were not sure if it was the thought of being round with his seed or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your mind went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you could only think of his cock dragging along your walls.

Where you could have sworn you could have indulged yourself in his proximity just a little longer, your body seemed to act on its own with your peak suddenly washing over you. Your body was taut, convulsing as he fucked you through the sensations, reveling in the way your moans grew louder and wanton. He mouthed along your neck, his hot and heavy breath fanning over your skin.

In your state of bliss, you had barely noticed the increasing pace and intensity of his thrusts. “I shall give you what you desire,” Maegor rasped to which you merely replied with a breathy ‘yes’.

The snaps of your husband's hips grew harsh and uneven as he crested the horizon, spilling his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt. His fingers dug harshly into your cheeks now, still cupping your chin while groaning into the crook of your neck. Maegor was relentless as he fucked his seed deep into you, desperately wanting it to take and bear fruit.

Once the throbbing of his cock became less, he collapsed onto his side, purple eyes squeezed shut and needing a few seconds to steady his breathing. You watched him with a tired smile on your lips, reaching out to scratch your nails over the coarse hairs on his chest.

“What?” he asked as he opened his eyes to you smiling at him.

Hesitating to ask the question, afraid of the answer breaking your heart, you licked your lips. “What if I do not give you a boy?”

But it seemed that the failed pregnancies of his wives before you had softened his heart, even if only a bit, because he brought his hand to yours on his chest, lacing your fingers. “I do not care, for as long as it’s healthy.” Bringing your joined hands to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the back of yours while maintaining eye contact.

The gesture and his words had your heart fluttering with nothing but love and admiration for the man everyone dubbed ‘the Cruel’, yet he was not cruel to you.

Pulling you close, he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Sleep, wife,” he crooned, “we shall reside here just a little longer.”

And sleep you did. The best you had slept in a very long time.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

727 notes · View notes

felikatze · 3 months

Text

THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER

HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU @the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!

DISCLAIMER

This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!

You have been warned.

ALSO!!!!

The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.

WHAT IS IT?

Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.

(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)

WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?

Quite a lot of reasons, actually.

It's really funny

Let us begin with: the basics.

SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL

HAIR COLOR

This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.

You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.

Well. What other characters have white hair?

You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.

(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.) (Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)

EYELASHES

Correct. Eyelashes.

Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.

So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.

(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck? (okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)

SPEAKING HABITS

Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?

And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?

And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.

So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.

Which two other people also do.

Bright one... ...... Do you remember? Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!

Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)

Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:

THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN

I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?

The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?

All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.

I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.

The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.

You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.

Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!" [...] Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!" [...]

Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..." Isabeau: ... Sif? Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?" Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home? Siffrin: "I... was?" Odile: You... Were. Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?

Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.

Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:

Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.

On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.

Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?" Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!

(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)

Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.

Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.

The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.

"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?" "I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."

And Odile also remarks the following

Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.

This will be relevant later. Moving on.

CONTRIVANCES

THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY

SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:

Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.

This reveals to us several things:

This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating

Someone from the House was using it for study

All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence

Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation

However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.

Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.

(A pile of papers.) (It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)

Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:

(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.) (You drag your finger there too.) (Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)

BOOKS

During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.

Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.

Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!! Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!

As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?

These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.

(You take the book out again.) (You can read its title, now...) (Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.) (It's...) (... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.) (You start laughing.)

CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION

Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead

they forgot where they're from.

One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.

And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.

Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.

Now. The real cinch of this.

Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?

Answer me this, then.

How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?

1. How could she read it?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.

The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.

There are no legible records of Wish Craft.

2. What about the Favor Tree?

Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.

Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.

(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!) (You look around her desk, trying to find out more.) (Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?) (... There!!!) (It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...) (In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:) (To save Vaugarde.) (And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...) (So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)

Except, when Isabeau talks about it...

Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?

He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.

To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.

And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.

If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.

3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting

At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.

It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved. We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King. And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work? [...] But... But something went wrong, didn't it? Something goes wrong, every time!!! [...] The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong. I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!! None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!! [...] I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!

There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.

To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.

If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me... It's all over. What "it" is, I have no idea... I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to. But I know it is the will of the Change God. Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger... ... Something will end, once you talk to me.

There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.

If she knew it all beforehand already.

#Feli speaks #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat #euphrasie isat #head housemaiden #ALL THE TAGS. I NEED PEOPLE TO LOOK AT THIS. PLEASE. IT'S 1:30 IN THE MORNING.#i spent two hours on this i think

350 notes · View notes