I’m Going To Write A Fanfic! But I Need Y’all’s Help!

Hello! I hope this is the right place to make a request for a fiction idea (series)

A love story between one of Namor's generals (female) and him. She is second in comand after Namora, and is fiercely loyal to him, she would die for him. But she is only half talokan (one parent from land, one from talokan- maybe Namor found her and granted her passage and a place is his city).

Anyway, she can hear his silent call for his soulmate (maybe he has a special name with which he telepathically calls her, tries to find her, but she keeps quite, thinking it might be a mistake). While on one of his visits to the outside world he stumbled upon a girl who bewitches him, and he is under her spell. Lots and LOTS of angst, but before they can married, on their wedding day reader calls him by his soulmate name and tells him her name that she knew for so long. That snaps the spell on him, they defeat the witch and marry.

Ok I Will write this, but I am busy with finals exams. But it will be written!

I’ve been going on through a lot, but I’m still finishing up,

The first chapter of My Namor fanfic, but I’d like to share an sample of my Druig Fanfic, it is called;

The tragedy of the Mocking bird

Trinity sat down in Sharon’s office, she’d known Sharon for a while, it was quiet, the night was restless. She hadn’t planned on helping the avengers, but here she was, on a mission with Sam, Bucky, and Zemo. She resented them. They’d destroy her home. Sokovia. And in doing so, they killed Peter, her little brother. Natasha was a friend, of course. She’d been the only one to visit Sokovia afterwards, and apologized to Trinity, and even went to Peter’ s funeral. Now she was dead, leaving Trinity truly alone. Druig tried to contact her, but she’d refused his letters, telling him, she had to worry about other things. She heard a tapping noise outside the window, she looked up to see Ikaris, and Sersi?!

They had not communicated in years! Well, Ikaris did, he and trinity actually fell in love. He’d left to go see Ajak a few days before she joined Bucky and Sam. What could they want? She didn’t know, but she did know that it had to be important….

|| Comment if you’d like to know more about this story. || leave a like, requests are open. Read the request rules on the post for that. It should be pinned.||

“I wish I were Heather.” Pt 2.

Part 2 finally! pairing: Druig x Fem! Eternal! Reader Warnings: Angst to fluff. Confessions. Fluff and sad Druig. Then cute and cuddly Druig kinda. Idk really.

Your first thought, was of Druig, as he walked away from Ikaris. Ikaris and you we’re friends yeah, sometimes you’d joke around, like you’d pretend to be lovers, when your bored. So that’s why he kissed you. The man you did love, was Druig! Your Druig! I mean you were supposed to hate him, but how could you, you loved everything about him. He was your favorite person. So you had to find him. You followed him to his room. You heard everything his quiet sobs. You finally understood that what you to had was not hate, but love. And you would not stand by any longer thinking your love was unrequited. The thought of possibly being together and happy with him was almost too much to bear. But you quietly opened his door, to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, sobbing softly. Head in his hands.

You quietly approached him and wrapped you arms, around him. He looked up at you, eyes full of tears, he couldn’t bring himself to even tell you to go away, your presence was comforting. He grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cried. “Why are you here, Y/N?” He finally said, voice cracking, as he looked up at you, with a tear striking face.

“I’m here because I love you. And I want you to be ok. Do you understand?” You said softly as you wiped away the tears, softly. And smiled at him.

He nodded slightly not believing that you loved him, but you said it and that had to mean something, he caressed your face, softly, as he smiled a slight grin at you, happy to be with you.

“I love you too, my beautiful beautiful Y/N. Now hold me, please?” He asked, as he pleaded with you silently to hold him, wanting nothing more than to be close to you.

“Yes, Druig I’ll hold you as long as you want.”

AN; Hope you liked it! Let me know if you’d like me to write you something special! Pls and Ty! Stay safe! Luv y’all. And remember you are smart, beautiful, important and special!

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞

Norman Osborn x F!Reader

wordcount: 2.8k words

summary: A limo ride to a Gala takes longer than normal.

warnings: smut, rough sex, semi-public sex, dom! Norman, sub! Reader

A soft melody floats around the room as you double-check yourself in the mirror. You find yourself scrutinizing every little part of the ensemble. The outfit itself was absolutely breathtaking, but it was how you looked in it that worried you the most. You felt this overwhelming amount of pressure to be perfect every time you go out with your boyfriend Norman Osborn. It made your knees shack to be with such a powerful man. In your head, he was too important to be with a girl like you. Your lifestyle was nothing like Norman’s. Your modest apartment is nestled in the heart of New York City. You lived here ever since you decided to move to the big city. When you started dating Norman, however, he tried to convince you to move out. He said he could set you up in a high-rise with all expenses paid. The offer was lucrative and more than generous, but you didn’t want the gold digger rumors to have even more of a backbone. Those fuckers at the Daily Bugle ate your relationship with the Oscorp Billionaire up.

The two of you met when you interned at Oscorp Industries. It was your first week when you quite literally ran into the CEO himself. Fortunately for you, it was not a situation of spilled coffee or flying documents. Instead, you tripped while trying to make it to a meeting on time. You always cursed at your way too high, high heels, and that day they decided to get back at you. When you put your arms out to brace for the impact you were met with a hard chest instead of the hard ground.

Keep reading

Request Rules;

I’ll write for Marvel, Star Wars, House of the Dragon, Game of Thrones, Saltburn, and celebrity crushes!

I will write smut, but only if your are 16+ requesting it

I have a TikTok where you can DM me for requests, it’s the same Username, Trinity the orphan.

Be nice

And if you want a series, you can request that!

This is a safe acct, so no homophobia, racism, sexism, or anything else, because you will be blocked.

Actaeon

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 1.

Part 2: Artemis

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, light choking.

Word Count: 5K

"Venetia! I also wanted to..."

But she had already triumphantly closed the bathroom door. You slammed the door a couple of times, but all you heard in response was the muffled sound of water and a Paris Hilton song blasting from the speakers that were in that room. She would definitely listen to the entire album during her bath procedures, and certainly more than once.

Clearly, this would take a long time. It was too long to wait - you'd been shivering from the cold. Nothing special had happened, you just opened the window in your room and were so engrossed in reading a book that you forgot about everything in the world. The summer days in Saltburn were hot, but still the nights gave you chills sometimes. So, every fascination has its price to pay.

The second bathroom in your wing of the house broke down tonight. That was bad, because the servants could not cope on their own, and it was too late to call the plumbing, and there was no such urgent need when there were several bathrooms. It was a pity the senior Cattons didn’t know that when Venetia used to occupy the only bathroom nearby, that was indeed the most urgent need.

You didn't want to bother Felix and Venetia's parents, much less use their bathroom. James and Elspeth were friends of your parents and this was far from your first summer in Saltburn, but still it would be somehow too inconvenient, they were not your uncle and aunt, after all. There was also no question about the servants' bathroom, it seemed even more inconvenient for you to occupy a bathroom that was used by more than 10 people at once.

There was only one option left if you wanted to lie in the bath for as long as you wanted so that no one would bother you, and right now.

You went down to the living room, where you could hear the sound of the TV. Felix was sitting next to Oliver, smoking a cigarette, switching channels and talking cheerfully to his friend.

"Hey Felix!" you spoke to the guy, and he turned to you, his face reflecting the blue light from the TV in the semi-darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he smiled.

"Mm... Can I use your bathroom now? We’ve got one tub malfunctioning, and Venetia got stuck in the other, deciding to do Live at Saltburn's Bathroom 2007, no less..."

You specifically said "your bathroom," looking at Felix the whole time. It was more correct to address both guys at once, but you just couldn't look into Oliver's eyes like that and ask him to use his bathroom with Felix.

"Say no more," he grinned, "Of course! Go ahead, enjoy yourself!"

"Thank you," you smiled and nodded at him, and at that moment you finally looked at Oliver. Unlike you, he had been doing nothing but staring at you all this time. You looked into his blue eyes on a face that was bathed in blue light, which made his eyes seem even more piercing. But he never said anything, absolutely nothing. His expression was unreadable. Was he offended that you didn't address him?

You smiled shyly at Oliver, nodded too, and left the room, bumping into Farleigh in the doorway, who was carrying a large pack of crisps.

"Hello, Y/N! How are you... hey Felix, did you switch that reality show that I was watching?!"

"Of course, yes, because no one wants to watch it except you," Felix replied.

"What? It's "Big Brother", actually! Yes, it's a great show, and we all need a little drama sometimes late in the evening! I bet Oliver likes it too. Yes, Oliver?"

"Oh, please!" Felix rolled his eyes and teasingly began to put the remote away from the hands of the approaching Farleigh.

You chuckled and finally left the room. You never looked at Oliver again, but you could swear that you felt his gaze burning into your back.

God, could he really be offended? Or maybe you did something or said something before and didn't realize it? It seems that Oliver had been noticing a lot, but always kept everything to himself.

Oliver, this guy. You met him at Oxofrd and you chatted or even went to some pubs with him and Felix a few times, but you didn't understand what he was like then. To tell the truth, you still had no idea, but the main reason why you were afraid to look him in the eye when you asked about the bathroom was that you thought he would immediately feel and find out about the crush that had been developing for him for the second month now of your growing closer with him here, in Saltburn.

The only thing you could say for sure was that he was not as insecure and awkward himself as you thought at university, rather he was silent and observant, knowing the value of himself, his words and actions. Attentively listening and being generally deep. His inner confidence and even some kind of mystery began to intrigue you in earnest.

Walking through the corridors of the beautiful old manor, you thought to yourself that you were even glad that everything turned out that way with your bathrooms. The thought of you lying in the same hot tub that Oliver lied almost every night strangely excited and turned you on.

You reached the right room, looking around - it was quiet and cozy. You immediately started taking water into the bathroom, and while you were waiting, you started walking in circles. Here was Felix's bathroom table, next to which his red robe was carelessly hung, two crushed toothpastes and a brush with slightly protruding bristles. You imagined that he was brushing his teeth with the speed and power of a blender in order to quickly deal with this chore and get down to much more interesting things that another day had prepared for him.

You laughed softly at this thought, and then went over to Oliver's side.

Everything was surprisingly neat in contrast to his neighbor, one almost full paste, one brush, two neatly folded towels. You wonder where his robe was. Did he come and go without it?

Gods, you started to think about something wrong. But it was too late – you already started imagining Oliver in his underwear, how he comes into this bathroom, takes them off and lies down in a hot tub… Or maybe he comes and goes here right away without underwear? Ugh... that's enough.

You decided not to lock the door from Felix's room - the boys were obviously absorbed in domination for the telly, besides, they know that you were here, so you just loosely closed the door. No one should come in.

The bathtub was almost full of water, you impatiently took off your clothes and decided to put them together with your bathrobe... where? You didn't want to go to Oliver's side - it was too minimalistic and clean. And besides, it seemed like... too intimate for some reason. But Felix's side would tolerate it, also there were a couple of spare towels in the corner that you forgot to take.

You carefully lowered yourself into the bath, the hot water started nibbling your skin. God, it felt so good. You gradually began to stretch and relax.

There was something about lying in an empty room in the bath while the water was still bubbling. The light was pleasantly dimmed, and the air in the room was gradually getting hot and sticky. This kind of environment had always calmed you down and turned you on at the same time. Except that there was a lot more of the excitement this night rather than the calming.

Thoughts of Oliver came back to you. The way he leaves his room, comes into this very bathroom, fills it just like you did. He lies down in it, as you were lying now, inhales hot air and breathe out even hotter air. Beads of sweat are gathering on his body. And you'd already seen his body too many times while you were swimming or sunbathing. Even you, being more of a face girl rather than a six-pack girl, could not sometimes look away, it was good that most of the time you were wearing sunglasses and he hardly noticed anything. Usually you rather admired his face and beautiful eyes, but now, in your fantasies, his eyes were closed, so your imagination stopped at his beautiful figure and, without too much modesty, began to write it out in details.

You couldn't help yourself, except…

The fingers on your left hand began to lightly brush your lips from left to right, you felt your own hot breath. You wondered if they were…

Then the hand began to descend lower, to your breasts, gently cupping one breast. Fingers slowly drew circles around your nipple, and then squeezed it, causing you to bite your lip and inhale sharply.

...if it were his hands, then....

The water was hot, but the heat below you was even stronger. Unable to resist it, your hand moved even lower, carefully making its way through your folds. You started caressing yourself. All these stoked emotions, tension, unspoken words lately, it was all too much. Of course, when you turned to Felix, the first thing you thought about was that it wasn't him using this bathroom, but someone else. What if he did it too, right here in this place?

...You wonder if those were his hands, would they have caressed you the same way?

This and the previous thoughts and the briefly popped images in your head finally brought you to the peak.

"Oliver..." you whispered loudly, unable to keep that name on your lips.

He almost gave himself away at this point.

Of course, you weren't alone all this time. While Felix and Farleigh were arguing over the right to own the remote, Oliver sat next to them, unable to believe that this was happening. You were going to his bathroom. Of course, in his thoughts now (and maybe in his plans for the future) it wasn't just you and Felix's bathroom, no. You, lying in his bathtub, was the only way to say it correctly and so... luscious.

He was already preoccupied with these thoughts from the very beginning, when you innocently asked Felix about the bathroom, and was just waiting for the right moment to slip away from this company. Fortunately, Elspeth soon joined them, and James came in after her, so, thanks to new guests in the room and the still ongoing discussion about what the Catton family would be watching on TV that evening, Oliver was able to slip away without much difficulty.

He impatiently followed your footsteps, counting in his head whether it was enough time to pass for you to look around there, fill the bath, lie down in it and start relaxing. Thinking about the last words, Oliver began to tense up in a certain sense and in a certain place. Yes, he decided, enough time had passed.

Very quietly, he walked through Felix's dark room to the crack in the door, which left a narrow strip of light from the next room. You were lying in the bath. God, it was a pity that he missed the moment when you took off your clothes and lay down there, but it was also good. He would see everything again, and very soon.

Oliver breathed very quietly and slowly.

God, how beautiful you were, even that small part of your body that could be seen from the bathroom and was also limited to the door crack was inexpressibly beautiful to him. He felt like an ancient Greek myths character, some kind of satyr watching the bathing of a beautiful nymph. No, the goddess. He thought of himself as Actaeon, and you were now his Artemis, taking your bath. A hunter who made his way to the goddess of hunting in the forest and was punished for his excessive curiosity, desires and impatience.

It was also some kind of forbidden act, as if he had actually made his way into the sacred grove. The grove was sacred, but he was glaring at you in a completely blasphemous manner. If he had got to be turned into a stag or something, he was willing to pay the price right now. Every fascination has its price to pay. Although no, not right now.…

Oliver was breathing very quietly and slowly, but soon his breathing became heavier and heavier.

It was too much when you started slowly running your hand over your body, starting with your lips and going lower and lower.

His mouth involuntarily opened in amazement, and then his jaw clenched, and he gnashed his teeth almost audibly. He bit his lip. It was impossible to tolerate, no. His own hand also began to slowly descend.

What was he counting on? Probably just to see you lying in his tub, left to yourself. He didn’t know himself. But for some reason, he did not hope for what was happening at that moment. What or who is Y/N thinking about now? He would give a lot to know that. And he would give everything to change the answer to his own name.

His excitement and despair grew within him every passing second.

He did not calculate exactly what happened next. Or rather, he could have guessed only in his wildest dreams. But it must be said, Oliver always had wildest dreams, which he quickly began to believe in.

"Oliver..." - the acoustics of the bathroom and the silence around gave away your secret, and the sensitive hearing of the bearer of this name picked it out unmistakably.

At that moment, the pupils of his eyes widened to their limit, as if he had just learned the most important secret of the universe, which he had longed to possess all his life. To some extent, even on the modest scale of human life and the moment, this was exactly the case.

So, yes. All this time Y/N was thinking about him. Not about Felix. Not about Farleigh. God, it was not even about Venetia or anyone else. About him. About Oliver. About Oliver Quick.

He smiled broadly at the thought that his observations, his intuition and his wildest dreams had met at a single point of truth. He knew that he hadn't made much of an impression on you in those brief meetings you had at Oxford. But you made an impression on him, and that was enough. He was good at waiting, and he was even better at planning. All this getting closer with Felix, this whole year – it was all for you first of all. He knew that you were friends, that you were the daughter of his parents' friends, and that you were often invited to stay at the Catton family estate, and he did everything to get there too. Yes, even if he didn't make a big first impression on you, even if you didn't study together, even if Felix didn't study with you and your paths didn’t cross often enough to communicate a lot at Oxford, but Oliver knew the place where all this would happen. In Saltburn.

That was why he’d been working very hard for the last two months – even if he wasn't always a good conversationalist, he was a great listener and an even better observer. You began getting closer, and he clearly caught your attention. But to what extent, even Oliver was not sure. It seemed that you communicated with Felix and Farleigh with much more ease, even flirting a little. And not only with them, in general, your ease was expressed in communicating with anyone. With anyone but him. More and more often, you began to avoid his gaze, felt visually uncomfortable, stiffed when you were alone with him, and felt a clear relief when someone joined your company. Did you really get to know him better, and the initial indifference became a constant awkwardness in his presence? Oliver was very afraid of that. And deep down he hoped that this way you could just mask your affection for him, because sometimes people do that. This was also present in him to some extent, or rather, it used to be, because Oliver Quick decided to bury his insecurity and shyness deep inside himself. He was not quite done with it yet, but oh the boy was trying, he was trying very hard. He wanted to kill everything in himself that prevents him from becoming who he desired to be and getting what he wanted. Or who he wanted.

That brief smile changed again to a soundlessly open mouth that almost gave out a groan. Oliver held his hand tightly on his crotch, holding onto the wall with his other hand so that his knuckles turned white. After that confession of yours, Oliver was ready to burst into the bathroom at the same second, but no. He would restrain himself, he would not do that. He would be smarter than Actaeon.

He was really able to keep his composure and wait for you to relax and move away from your blessed condition a little, diving into the water a little deeper and slightly closing his eyes from pleasure and calmness that came to you. He moved noiselessly to the other side of the room. He exhaled deeply. Oliver looked at the half-finished can of Red Bull that had been on Felix's bedside table near the entrance for almost a week. Now it was time to act.

You heard footsteps approaching and shivered, opening your eyes.

"Knock, knock! May I come in?" a familiar voice asked sweetly and quite lively.

"Oliver? What are you..." you started, but he interrupted you by going into the bathroom, without waiting for your invitation or even more so for a refusal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to change my clothes urgently," he began guiltily, "I-I'm not looking!"

He was actually walking past you, covering his face with his hand.

"What's happened?" you asked, half rising from the tub.

"I spilled a drink on myself. It's so unsuitable, because this is a shirt that Felix recently gave me, so that I, quote, "won’t wear the same thing over and over again, otherwise it upsets mother, we're not some kind of paupers here, she said to him." This is so damn awkward," he said frustratedly.

"Yes, of course, come in. It's okay."

"Thank you, Y/N! Once again, I'm sorry for the suddenness."

Oliver disappeared and rummaged in his room for a while, and then knocked again, but this time from the side of his own door.

"Yes? Do you want to go back?"

"Yes. And no. Not quite. It seems that I need to wash my shirt right now, before the stain is completely dry..."

"Can you just leave the shirt to the maids?"

"No, no! Disturbing people at such a late hour...And again, until I find someone and get there..."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Come in... if you won’t be watching,"

"While I'm washing my shirt, I won't," Oliver smiled.

He entered the room with his eyes closed in a caricature manner and showed a white shirt with a dark yellow Red Bull stain on the shirt hanging in his outstretched arms. He was wearing white tank top and black trousers, which were only left part from his dinner costume. He also took off his shoes.

"Yeah, I see it. Maybe you can wash it with soap or something?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do now," Oliver went to his sink under a mirror, starting to wash the stain.

You didn't promise not to look. This view of him, the combination of a formal suit with something casual, formed a knot in your stomach. The white tank top that accentuated his slender torso and exposed his muscular arms so well, which were now busy doing laundry, black suit trousers that hugged his legs and ass in such a nice way, as well as the fact that he was standing barefoot in the bathroom, created a feeling of some kind of intimacy. Few people could see him like this even in this house, as if you came from some sort of gala dinner, and now you saw him in the process of changing clothes between some business. It was like you came together, and this was just your house, and that only you were allowed to see this semi-domestic, yet at the same time very sexy look. You inhaled the air quite sharply.

He didn't promise not to watch either. Therefore, the smile slipped from his face, since you did not see him from this angle, from where he could watch you through the mirror while washing his shirt, completely not looking at it. The smile faded because he could barely contain himself again. He was breathing heavily the hot and sticky air of the bathroom. Damn if only could he pounce and ravish you right now, in this very bath. Oliver was reveling in the way you were looking at him, the way you were looking at him now, thinking that he didn't notice it. Your sharp sigh was the last drop.

"Thinking about something?" Oliver asked you in an even tone.

"What? Oh, no, I just, uh..."

"It's weird, I thought I heard your voice when I first came in here. Did you talk to someone?"

"Of course not, because it's just me... and you."

"I could swear you were talking to someone..." Oliver said wistfully.

You felt the heat in the still hot bath water again, only now your face was burning. Did he hear you muttering his name? It couldn't be, could it have happened before he came in? Or did you not remember something? You were so relaxed. And now you were tensing up, afraid that he would find out your little, or rather, very, very big secret, which you were afraid to fully admit even to yourself.

"I... don't..."

Oliver sighed and stopped washing his shirt, turning to you and leaning on his table. He stared at you unblinkingly, arms crossed over his chest. You instinctively gasped and covered your chest with your hands, crossing your legs.

"My dear, I don't bite. Be a good girl and tell me who you were thinking about while lying in that bathtub."

"You promised not to look!" It seems like your face couldn't be any redder than it was now.

"I said I wouldn't look while I’d be washing my shirt," Oliver raised both hands in front of him, looking straight into your eyes, "As you can see, I'm done with it."

"But I’m not done with you at all," he thought to himself and slowly began to approach you from behind.

"Oliver, what are you-"

"Shh," he knelt down and gently put his hands on your shoulders, carefully gathering your wet hair to the center of your neck, "I won't look if you want, but let me apologize for my intrusion, I didn't mean to bother you."

He began to gently massage your shoulders, as the pads of his thumbs moved to your neck. You sighed softly and shifted your legs. It seems like both halves of your body were burning equally badly now.

"That's it, good girl," he cooed softly, exhaling hot air almost into your ear. His measured breathing burned your neck, "So, will you tell me who you were thinking about while lying in this tub?"

He asked the question as if he knew the answer to it. You wanted terribly and didn't want to tell him at the same time. It seems that even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat. His long fingers began to tighten, moving slightly towards your neck. "I won't leave it until you tell me yourself." You twitched your legs again. Were you scared or did it turn you on? It seems to be both.

"And please don't hide with your hands from me, yeah? Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?" he took one hand off from your neck and gently pushed your hand away, taking up space under your breasts. There was a complete silence in the room. He moved a little to the left side of the tub. At that moment, your eyes met, and everything inside you turned upside down. His beautiful blue eyes were now almost dark with longing. His breathing was slow and heavy, shaking the already hot and sticky air between your faces. The tension was too strong to resist. Yes, it seems that your feelings towards each other were mutual.

Your lips slowly met, and then everything was like a blur. After a short while, Oliver sensually ran his tongue over your lower lip, asking for an invitation to come in. You opened your mouth a little more, where he immediately had slipped with his tongue, leisurely enjoying every corner of your mouth as much as possible. Then he broke the kiss in the lips just to kiss your collarbone without breaking your visual contact. You remembered that his other hand was resting under your chest, and now it began to stroke your skin and climb higher. Oliver began caressing your breasts just the way you had done before – first cupping it in his hand, and then slowly began to lead circles around your nipple until he squeezed it lightly. You cried out softly with pleasure.

"So, darling? And now you're going to tell me who you were thinking about...?"

If earlier words did not come out of you because of surprise and sensation of a slight fear, now they did not come out of you because of excitement and disbelief in what was happening in general. Oliver grinned, closing his eyes, lowering and shaking his head a bit. Then he stood up and, cupping your face in his hands, kissed you again. But this time the kiss was greedy, almost immediately his tongue penetrated you mouth, without asking for any permission now. But you didn't need it, you almost moaned into his lips in response. One of his hands moved from your cheek to your neck and began to squeeze it lightly.

After breaking the kiss, he looked at you again. It seems that now you were ready to reveal his name, but decided not to do so, to see what would happen next, gathering all the remnants of your weakening will, and silently looked at him in response. Oliver seemed to catch this mood and, giving you a dark excitement smile, took a step back, removing one hand from your throat and moving it to your inner thigh. His other hand was on your chest again. Your body covered with goosebumps under the water. He entered you with one finger, and you finally let out a real moan. Smiling with satisfaction, he added his second finger and increased the pace. The water started splashing out of the bathtub from your fidgeting and legs movements. The hand that rested on your breast began to squeeze it, and the thumb massaged your nipple rougher and rougher. You began to moan more often and louder under the caresses of your uninvited, but such a welcome guest. Perhaps it was more correct to say that you were the guest, and he was more like the host here, but your already confused thoughts were interrupted by his hoarse and authoritative voice, "Who were you thinking about lying here, touching yourself? Whose hands were you imagining at that moment?"

You just moaned in response, and he picked up the pace.

"Say the name, say it out loud"

"Oh... Oliver! It was you, Oliver."

"Yes," his eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze darkened even more, and his mouth let out a soundless moan full of satisfaction at what he had heard. He had experienced complete moral satisfaction, and now he would give you a physical one.

He bent down to you more, greedily and sloppily kissing you, without taking his hands off caressing your body, he added the third finger, and in less than a minute you came loudly under his fingers.

You were breathing heavily, just like Oliver himself. You looked at each other, both of you had a swarm of thoughts and a hurricane of feelings in your heads. "Good, sweet Y/N. I'm so glad that tonight turned out that way," he kissed you again, sweetly and almost innocently. He sat on his knees by the bath for a while and just looked at you. You started to get embarrassed again and looked away.

"I'm sorry, you probably need some time alone, and they've probably been waiting for me downstairs. The shirt still needs to be hung up to dry!" he said cheerfully, getting up from his knees, quickly taking the shirt from the sink and disappearing into his room. When he returned, you saw that he was wearing shoes again, and another shirt was thrown over his tank top.

"Have a pleasant late evening, Y/N! If you're not tired, join us in the living room," Oliver smiled at you, and then, already standing in the aisle, added quite nicely but firmly, "And if you want or need to use this room again, put your things down and take towels from my half of the bathroom, hmm?"

With these words, he left the room, leaving you in a storm of feelings and once again thinking how observant and puzzling he was sometimes, as it may not seem at first.

He was over the moon, but of course he would like to get a lot more out of you than he got today. But he knew how to wait, a good hunter should be able to do it, and today Oliver praised himself that he did it perfectly. Actaeon was considered the best out of the mortal hunters.

He was running, almost flying down the estate towards the living room. The Cattons were probably watching some nonsense there, as they always did. But he didn't care, because all his thoughts were about tomorrow night, hoping that you would come to use his bathroom again. Hoping that Venetia would occupy your bathroom again for a long enough time, and if she wouldn't, then maybe he would consider clogging of the second tub.

Oliver knew how to wait, and even better he knew how to act at the right moment.

Surely, he would surpass Actaeon himself.

SNOWFALL

Robb Stark x !Baratheon Reader

Summary: an alliance of house Baratheon and house Stark was going to set place in Winterfell. Y/N Baratheon and Robb Stark were to be wed and be man and wife.

WARNING: MDNI!! Smut 🔥🔥

THE EARLY MORNING WAS CRISP AND COLD, the warm breath that Y/N emitted could be seen in the air.

She held her coat close to her as she watched the morning sunrise. She felt sad as this would be the last moment she would be a young maiden. She would be married later in the afternoon and she felt frightened.

She was told her entire childhood that Robb Stark would be her betrothed. Her father and his father were friends and her father knew the best way their houses could come together was through marriage.

She was the oldest, being one year old than Joffrey and the only one of her family to have her fathers brown curls.

Of course her mother despised the agreement, she believed her daughter was worthy of a better suitor but nonetheless it was still set in stone.

Robb Stark was definitely different from what she imagined. She knew it could of been worse, he was a gentleman and kind, showing her the home that was soon to be shared.

And she could tell he was just as nervous was her. They were both young and knew their duties were required one day.

Y/N tried not to think of it as she felt the sun rise and felt the heat of the sun rest on red cheeks.

"Excited for the big day?" A voice said and Y/N jumped and turned to see her uncle Tyrion coming forward.

"Excited to be married and away from my family?" She asked her uncle sighed and stood beside her.

"It's probably better, you and I both know that kingslanding is no place for someone like you." He told her.

"And what am I?" She asked and he chuckled.

"Truthful, kind, surprising you turned out that way considering how your mother is." He said and she laughed.

"Don't say that too loud, mother can hear everything." She told him.

"That's because your mother is a wicked witch, have I taught you nothing from my bedtime stories?" Tyrion asked and the both laughed.

"I do, even though I know how my family is, I'll still miss them." She said and looked down at her uncle. "Especially you, what will I do without my favorite uncle?"

"You'll adapt, you'll grow that's a good quality you have as well." Tyrion said. "Just know that you'll be taken care of, that Robb stark is a good man, I hate to admit but he's a good man."

"Thank you." Y/N stared at the sunset and closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Time to start the day?"

"Of course, let's go." Tyrion said and walked with his niece.

Both of them taking of the future and of the past, making Y/N feel at ease from the words of her uncle.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the small walk and talking with her uncle, she returned to her chambers and only a few moments of peace lasted until her hand maidens came in and began to get ready for the wedding.

She smelled of lavender and lilac, and her long brown curls fell perfectly. She felt refreshed and as they dried her, she saw her wedding gown laying on the bed.

Soon her mother, Lady Stark, and her soon to be sister Sansa had come in to help.

The Stark women came to bring Y/N gifts to welcome her into their home. Sansa had helped make a veil for Y/N and Lady Stark had brought a beautiful brooch of the Stark family to welcome her.

She felt so honored by the kindness of the Stark family, of course she could tell there was never a dull moment.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone with my daughter." Cersei told the Stark ladies and the nodded.

"Of course, see you at the wedding my dear." Lady Stark said and Sansa followed behind and left the two women alone.

Cersei looked at her daughter and smiled, she placed her hands on her daughter's cheek and led her to the dresser.

"Let me do your hair." Cersei said and Y/N nodded and felt content as her mother brushed through her hair. Feeling as if they were home in the castle. "This will be the last time I do it, then you'll do it for daughters of your own."

"I'll miss this." Y/N said sadly. "You always made the prettiest braids."

"Your grandmother did the same thing for me when I was a child." Cersei told her. "You remind me so much of her, my mother was so kind and i remember the day you were born, I could just feel my mother's presence in you."

As Cersei continued to brush, Y/N but her bottom lip and felt the creeping question she always had when it came to her betrothal.

"Mother, is it scary?" Y/N asked her. "I mean I know you didn't marry father for love, how did you do it?"

"Wine, lots of wine." Cersei said, bitterly and grabbed a chunk of hair and brushed it softly. "Overtime it did help that I had children, I had you, that's all that mattered."

"Do you think he'll make me happy?" Y/N asked and Cersei scoffed.

"I wouldn't count too much on that, sometimes it's just an alliance, remember that." Cersei told her and Y/N grew silent. "Are only duty is to marry and bring honor to our house through marriage and bare many children."

Y/N nodded and the two of them fell silent as Cersei continued to do her daughter's hair.

Cersei loved all her children but something about Y/N was special. She was her first, the first one of her children to truly live. She looked up at Cersei and when she did it felt as if nothing mattered.

Her daughter looked up to her and still does, Cersei knows the type of person she is, but the warmth and innocent eyes of her daughter made her feel human and her softer side was only seen by her.

Cersei didn't care of that her daughter wasn't Jaime's all she cared was that her daughter was protected. She truly had a place for her little doe.

"Lets get you in your dress." Cersei said as Y/N looked in the mirror and saw her hair up in a beautiful braid.

She followed her mother and helped her in her dress. She tied up her corset and helped her to the tiniest detail, knowing this would be the last time she would.

"You look beautiful." Cersei said as she led Y/N to the mirror. Y/N felt truly beautiful, she forgot for just a moment what awaited her and felt happy with how she looked.

"Thank you mother." Y/N said and turned to her mother and hugged her tightly. Cersei held her daughter right and tried not to cry.

The women heard a knock on the door and Cersei wiped the tears away quickly and cleared her throat.

"Come in." Cersei said and the door opened to reveal Robert Baratheon, Y/N's father.

"You look so beautiful my little doe." Robert said and came over, he took her hands and took a long look at her.

Y/N blushed and smiled as her father looked down at her with such pride. He thought Lyanna was the most beautiful but at that moment, his daughter was the most beautiful thing he had seen.

"Let us go." Robert said and Cersei sighed and grabbed her veil and placed it over her. "Robb will treat you right, he's a noble man."

Cersei fought the urge to bite back but knew better than to do it. Y/N walked along her mother and father as they began to walk.

Each step they took Y/N began to fully realize she was getting married.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Many people were at the Godswood, the heart of Winterfell and where Lord Stark wanted the ceremony to be.

The tree stood beautiful before them, the faint redness of the leaves contrasted with the white snow. The birds chirped and the small murmurs of the people from Winterfell and the guests that came from Kingslanding.

Her mother parted from her reluctantly and went to where her brothers stood and Robert guided Y/N down the snowy path.

Y/N could see Robb in his bear skin cloak, his face freshly shaven and his eyes were full of emotions. Fear, admiration, and another one she couldn't figure out.

She felt her heart race as she came closer and closer to him. As Y/N and Robert came up to Robb, Robert smiled down.

"Take care of her." Robert said and walked over to his wife.

Robb looked at Y/N and he smiled, she blushed at his gaze and the Septon interrupted their eye contact.

"You may now cloak your bride and bring her under protection." The Septon said and Robb did so and placed the large cloak over her shoulders.

Robb then placed his hand on her back to bring her closer to the Septon and he continued.

"My lords and my ladies, we stand here to unite these two houses as one. Princess Y/N Baratheon and Lord Robb Stark as one flesh, one blood, and one soul."

The Septon pulled out a ribbon and grabbed both of their hands. Y/N's hands were shaking as the Septon took her hand and when Robb placed his hand on top of hers he took it gently and squeezed.

"In the sight of all who sees and in the eyes of the gods I hereby bound these two souls, binding them as one." The Septon spoke. "You may kiss your bride."

Robb looked at Y/N and leaned down to kiss her softly. When they kissed it felt strange, an unfamiliar feeling crept up and Y/N didn't know what it was but she liked it.

The feeling of his warm lips against her made her forget of everyone around them, ignoring the sounds of their cheering and screams of the houses being united.

They parted their kiss and looked at each other with bewilderment. Y/N smiled first and made Robb smile back, he kissed her left cheek softly and the both turned to the crowd in front of them.

"I present to you Lord Robb Stark and Lady Y/N Stark." The Septon spoke and everyone erupted in applause once more.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the wedding ceremony the feast that was held afterwards was a party to remember. For once everything seemed peaceful and joyful.

Cersei was actually civil with her brother Tyrion, Robert was blinding drunk yet, and even Joffrey was not as unpleasant as usual.

Everyone cheered and praised the happy couple, giving them their blessings and kind words.

It seemed everyone was so engrossed with the feast that Robb took Y/N away from the loud noises and back to their now shared chamber.

Y/N and Robb were still in their wedding garments, Y/N was able to get her braid undone and her long hair flowed behind her back. They were both unsure of what to do, and stood in front of each other in nervousness.

"I- uh- I know this isn't- that this is-" Robb was then was cut off by Y/N.

"Strange?" Y/N said and Robb nodded and sighed in relief.

"Yes." Robb answered. "We don't have to-"

"I- I want to." Y/N said, her face turning red. "I just want you to know, I know I'm not the ideal girl you intended to marry but I want to be the best wife I can."

Robb's eyes softened at her words, she cupped his cheeks.

"I don't want to be like my mother and father." She told him. "I want to be an ally, a companion, so much more than just an alliance."

She kissed both his cheeks and he grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

"I'd like that, I want you to know that I will be an honorable man."'Robb told her and held her tight. "I know I'm not the man you wanted either but I promise you I'll treat you as an equal."

Y/N nodded and grabbed his hand and placed it on top of her shoulders and guided him to take off her dress. The world felt still and they both felt as if they couldn't breath once Y/N's dress fell on the floor.

Robb then got on his knees and kissed up her thigh, she blushed bright red and felt electricity as she felt every kiss on her thigh.

She tried to hide a moan but Robb heard her and that's what made him feel bold, snap.

Robb suddenly got up and picked her up bridal style, she squealed as he placed her on the bed.

Y/N looked up to Robb and the look in his eyes held lust. She watched as Robb moved his hands across her body and felt her body tingle and goosebumps erupted.

He placed her on the warm bed, layered with thick blankets, and the soft feel of sheep's skin.

Her long hair fell back as Robb looked down at her, his eyes filled with lust.

"Gods, you're beautiful." He said and kissed one of her breast, causing her to squirm.

He smiled while continuing to kiss her, he went up to her neck and up until he reached her lips.

She kissed him and touched his cheeks gently. As they pulled apart they put their foreheads together and both caught their breaths.

"It's going to hurt for a second, I'll be gentle I promise." Robb told her and she could feel her tummy flutter as he grabbed his cock and rubbed it through he folds, touching her clit over and over.

She felt terror rise in her chest as she awaited the pain, all her life after she gotten her maiden hood, her maids, mother, and septas told her of the pain of her wedding night.

She felt his cock slide through and she hissed, she immediately put her hand on his arm and squeezed. He stopped and saw the tears fall.

"I'm sorry." He said and kissed her cheeks and waited for her to allow him to move.

"It's alright." Y/N told him and looked up to him with glossy eyes. "You can move, love."

The nickname she gave him made his heart swell and he moved at a slow pace, he tried not to cum as he felt her warm, tight walls grip him.

She felt the uncomfortable burn of being stretched and as he continued to move, the more bearable it was. The soon burn began to make her stomach flutter, and her breath hitch.

Robb watched as her expression changed from pain to pleasure. It made Robb swell with pride as his wife felt pleasure and leaned down and kissed her as his pace didn't stop.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gripped into his auburn curls. As they released each other from their kiss, she threw her head back with a moan.

"Please." She begged and Robb smirked, leaning down to her her ear.

"What? What do you need?" He asked tauntingly, and pulled back slowly and slammed back into her and she yelped in surprise.

"Please, don't hold back." She looked at him and touch her hand on cheek. "Fuck me."

She kissed him once more and he moaned in her mouth and obliged to her and began to fully pound into her.

He was feral, he was relentless and fully in heaven as she milked him.

"I-I'm, oh gods!" She yelled and felt her walls clamped down onto his shaft.

She felt him shudder in pleasure as his ropes of cum began to fill inside her.

"Gods, yes." He moaned and jolted as he moved his cock in and out slowly, coming down from his high.

She felt goosebumps on her arms and legs as she began to breathe heavily from her first orgasm.

Robb pulled out of her and she felt full of his seed as he collapsed beside her. She moved to her side to face him, the faint glow of the candles and fire shone on his face.

The look of happiness and content from his face made her heart swell.

"Hi." She said to him, which caused him to chuckle.

"Hi." He said and she felt her cheeks redden.

He put his hand on her hip and he could feel the goosebumps rise.

"So that was-" Robb couldn't find the words and she finished for him.

"Amazing." She said and he nodded, he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly.

"Now that you're my wife, I won't be able to get enough." He said and she shuffled closer to him and he held her in his arms. "I meant what I said."

"What?" She asked and looked up at him.

"I'd treat you as an equal, my wife and a friend." He said and Y/N laid her head on his chest. Smiling hearing those words and hearing the sound of his heart beating.

"Thank you." She said and moaned as she felt Robb touch her clit and made her squirm in his arms.

"What do you say, lady stark, another time?" He asked and felt his cum coat her thighs and smeared his cum around as lube and she could feel herself getting wet again.

"Yes, my lord." She said and Robb growled and got on top of her, she giggled as he enveloped her in his arms and kissed him.

She felt happiness in his arms, and held him close. Both of them later in the night tangled in each other and asleep together.

Both of them glad that they were husband and wife.

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!! Ty for reading and I also wanted to add I'm doing commissions!!!! Just message me and I can show you some of my pieces or go to @ peytonmunson on insta!

"My Strong Girl" - Dark Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

a/n: in honor of WHATEVER THE FUCK YESTERDAY WAS AHHHHHH prince regent aemond is coming (and so am i hehe). this is also a late bday present for my babe @hoosbandewan ilysm boo!!! 🩷

Summary: The Prince Regent consummates his union in a rather... Unorthodox way.

TW: HEAVY DUBCON, canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, dark/yandere behavior, PUBLIC sex, period typical misogynistic attitudes, asshole aemond, fingering, overstim, loss of virginity, p in v sex, breeding kink, degradation, humiliation kink, dumbification, filth, i'm going to hell

Word Count: 2,810 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The silence is deafening as you are led from your cell in the dungeons to the throne room. Your mouth tastes of ash and blood as you hold your head high, refusing to let Ser Criston treat you as anything less than you are.

The eldest surviving child of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

You know it is not your Uncle Aegon who sits the throne now. He is not who you are being led to. No, it is his younger brother, Aemond, the Prince Regent. You see him, sitting there on the Iron Throne. Your mother’s throne. The Conqueror’s crown rests upon his brow, his lips curled up into a smug smile, the greatsword Blackfyre resting at his side. You maintain eye contact with him, refusing to shrink away, something which seems to amuse him. With the way he stares at you, cold and calculating as ever, you feel naked under his gaze. Like your body and soul are bared to him. Never have you felt so uncomfortably vulnerable.

Ser Criston shoves you to the ground in front of the throne, demanding, “Kneel before your Prince Regent.”

You look up at Aemond, seeing that he’s still staring down at you, and rather than kneeling, you spit at his feet, lips pulled back as you snarl, “I will not.”

Aemond arches a brow at your display of defiance while Ser Criston glares at you, “I will not repeat myself, bastard. Bow to your Prince Regent.”

The prince has to catch his breath when you look up at him, that fire in your eyes which he has loved since he was a boy, your voice as sharp as Blackfyre’s edge, “No matter how the wind howls, the mountain will not bow to it. I will not yield to this usurper. This murderer.”

Criston unsheathes his sword, raising it above his head as he declares, “Then you will kneel in pieces.”

Aemond raises his hand, giving Criston a stern look, stopping the knight in his tracks. He descends down the steps, staring down the bridge of his nose at you before bringing Blackfyre to your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“A fine blade, is it not?” You remain silent, glowering at him in a way that has his breeches uncomfortably tight. “Would you care to test your mettle against steel?”

“I came here to avenge my brothers,” you retort, “To watch your blood spill upon these floors and to retake the crown for my mother, you treacherous snake.”

He purses his lips, clicking his tongue in a show of mock chastisement before replying, “Such harsh words from such soft, pretty lips. We’ll need to change that if you are to be the bride of the Prince Regent.”

The word makes you feel as though your heart has stopped beating entirely.

Bride…?

Before you can say another word, you are dragged away by Ser Criston once again, delivered into the hands of two chambermaids. He instructs them to get you ready, that the dress will be waiting when they are done bathing you. Your eyes are wild as you look around, realizing what is happening. You kick against your captors, screaming wildly, looking at the knights that were once loyal to your mother, your grandsire before her, as they stand by and do nothing.

As you are carried off to be married to the man you hate most in the world.

The Royal Sept feels every bit like a tomb, each step you take toward Aemond feeling like a step closer toward your doom. And he just stands there, with that infuriating smirk on his face, knowing that he has won. It is your mother’s former childhood companion, your grandmother of sorts, who walks you toward your husband to be.

You whisper to her under your breath, “For a woman of the Faith, you seem content to allow your traitorous sons to do as they please, breaking all bonds of family and loyalty. You sanctimonious, hypocritical-”

“You had best be quiet. As a good wife is,” Alicent cuts you off sharply with a warning look, “This is not your mother’s keep anymore. You would do well to remember that.”

Your voice is dark as you glare at her and respond, “This will always be my mother’s keep, you traitor.”

The septon says his words, extolling the value of love. Of duty. Of family. And it takes everything in you not to laugh in the man’s face. Where is love? Certainly nowhere in this sept. Where is duty? Where is family? Your family is scattered to the four winds. And you are here, your hand being tied to that of the man who murdered your beloved little brother. You think of Luke as Aemond puts his cloak around your shoulders, bringing you under his protection.

Kinslayer. The most cursed of all things a man can be.

And you are married to him.

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, the hunger in his kiss intense and almost terrifying. His hand threads in your hair, pulling you close to him as his lips move against yours. You hear whispering around the sept, but no one is brave enough to say anything to stop this madness. To save you from this man.

You’re taken by surprise when you are not led to a feast nor the bedchambers you are likely to share with your newly wedded husband.

Instead, you are led to the throne room, the nobility of Westeros surrounding you. You feel their eyes on you, some pitying, some amused, as Aemond drags you by the elbow up to the throne, pulling you onto his lap. You let out a shocked yelp, doing your best to squirm away from him, but he keeps you in place. You wonder whether he plans to address the highborn folk, why he has brought you here.

But then, it becomes glaringly obvious to you what his plans are as his long fingers move to rest on the nape of your neck. You shiver, your eyes closing as you feel his other hand tugging at the laces of your wedding gown. He cannot be serious.

He cannot truly intend to consummate your union in the eyes of all the nobility, on the throne.

“Your parentage has been a topic of conversation for years. You and your bastard brothers.” Aemond’s breath is hot against your ear, his teeth grazing against your skin as he inhales your scent, “I will not have the same happen to my children. I will breed you in front of the entire realm so they know the whelp that grows in your belly is mine, that it is my seed that quickens in your womb and none other’s.”

Anger brews inside you at his words, your fists clenching as you resist the urge to lift your elbow and strike him in the jaw, if only barely. You hate him, you hate him so much, and you remind yourself of the fact as he tugs your wedding gown down your body, leaving you in only your smallclothes. Your jaw sets and you do your best to ignore the feeling of his fingers tracing your upper arms. Aemond pulls you closer to him and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your flesh, the thought making you want to retch. One of his hands caresses your throat while the other moves to your thighs. He squeezes your soft flesh, letting out a low hum of pleasure, fingers trailing up toward your cunt, lifting your shift as they move.

You press your lips together, refusing to make a sound as you feel his fingertips grazing against your bare, sensitive core. You hate the way his touch, how feather light and almost ghostlike it is against your skin. You hate the feeling of wetness pooling between your thighs as Aemond teases you, chuckling in your ear as he feels your slick on his fingers.

“For someone who claims to hate me so much, niece, your body betrays you. Your sweet little cunny is practically begging to be fucked by me.”

Aemond’s words make you shiver. And you despise the fact that he’s right. Your body is responding to him in a way that shocks you. Though you want nothing more than to shove him away, to look out at the crowd and plead for someone to help you, all you do is rest your back against his chest, allowing him to spread your legs, his fingers pushing inside your center. You have touched yourself before, but gods, it is so different when it is the touch of another, when it is they who set the pace. Aemond drags his fingers along your walls, your cunt tightening around him, body reacting viscerally to his touch. You can hear the murmurs of the crowd and turn your face away in shame, but you feel his hand move from your throat to tug harshly at your hair, forcing you to face the observers.

“Look at them,” he snarls in your ear as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a pace faster than anything you could do on your own, making you let out a gasp of pleasure, “They are here to see us consummate our union, wife. Let them see you writhe against my fingers, moaning my name like a little whore as I prepare you to take my cock.”

In spite of yourself, your hand moves to rest over his, urging him on, a silent plea for him to move faster as you face the crowd, the slight tug at your scalp only enhancing your desire. Aemond happily complies, feeling the way you squeeze around him when he brushes a certain spot inside of you, focusing his attention on it, listening as you let out a breathy moan of his name, your free hand grasping at his thigh for purchase. His thumb rubs at your pearl, the bundle of nerves devastatingly sensitive to his touch, and he feels you spill yourself against his fingers, your body going lax as you fall back against him.

The Prince Regent has no intention of stopping, however, shocking many of the nobles present as he continues, the wet noises of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt quietly echoing, along with your little pants of breath, your plea for him to slow down.

“And you call yourself the blood of the dragon,” Aemond mocks, pinching at your sensitive bud, making you cry out, your thighs shaking as he continues, bringing you closer and closer to your second peak, “Where’s my Strong girl? Hm? You can give me another one. I know you can.”

You shake your head, writhing against him just as he predicting as he continues fucking you with his fingers, not a trace of mercy in his touch. His free hand leaves your hair to grope at one of your breasts, sliding your shift down to expose you to his greedy gaze, along with that of the perverted noblemen watching you.

He wants them to see you, the sweet princess once known as the Realm’s Jewel, defiled and debauched by him, the second son who no one thought would amount to anything. Everyone was under the impression that you were to be married to Jacaerys. That is, until the day your family returned to King’s Landing and Princess Rhaenys announced that he was to marry Baela. Aemond saw the way your face fell with despair, you and your twin exchanging looks across the table. Your mother then stated that you were to be sent off to Riverrun, to be wed to Kermit Tully. Aemond knew that he would not allow this to happen. He knew that no matter what, he would have you. The little bastard girl who had haunted his dreams since he was a boy. You showed him kindness that neither his brother nor yours ever did, with your warm smiles and your gentle words.

And now, as far as he is concerned, he is repaying the favor, bringing you to the edge for a third time, listening to you mewl his name like a bitch in heat as you squirm against him.

“Where is that willful girl who was brought to me earlier today?” Aemond chuckles, lifting your hips, moving you back and forth on his thigh, the feeling of the coarse fabric of his breeches against your abused cunt making you let out a choked gasp, “I thought you would never bow to me. But here you are, sweet niece. My wife. Ready to be fucked like a little whore.”

You whimper slightly, and the sound prompts him to turn you around to face him, your back now to the crowd. He pulls his dagger from its sheath and slices open the fabric of your shift, your body now entirely bare before him. To add to the humiliation of it all, Aemond keeps his clothes on, only undoing his breeches to free his cock. Your eyes go wide as you realize what is about to happen. And the worst part is that the aching between your thighs intensifies. You want this. You want to fuck him.

Aemond sees the shame in your eyes and pulls you close, watching your teeth bite into your lower lip as you sink down on his cock. His hands move to squeeze at the flesh of your rear, kneading it between his fingers. Your entire body is taut, growing accustomed to the intrusion, but soon the slight discomfort gives way to pleasure, a fact that does not escape the one-eyed prince’s notice.

“Does my pretty little wife like being split open on her prince’s cock?”

You hate that his words excite you. You hate that the feeling of him thrusting up into you, setting a brutal pace as he holds you in place drives you to the brink of madness with how much you desire him. You close your eyes and try to pretend that you are anywhere but here, but one of his hands moves to hold your jaw, squeezing just enough to get your attention.

“Look at me, niece,” Aemond snarls, his eye trained on you, “Look at me as I fuck you. Look at me as I spill my seed inside you. And worry not, if it does not take tonight, I have every intention of breeding you every night for the rest of our lives.”

Gods, why does that excite you? You reach your peak, with how many times he brought you to it before, this came faster than the others. He has not spent himself yet, so you are surprised when he lifts you off of him, only to turn you around and pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to face your audience as he continues fucking you.

“They are about to see the next king of the realm being conceived,” Aemond whispers in your ear, “It is the most exciting thing that will ever happen in their pathetic lives. What a gift we have given them, my strong girl.”

“Aemond, it’s too much,” you say, your voice cracking slightly, your toes curling as his fingers move to deftly circle your pearl, bringing you closer and closer to the edge once more.

“You can barely even speak, hm?” Aemond coos, “My poor, empty-headed little wife. Head empty, save for how good my cock feels inside you.”

You can feel the metal of his crown against your temple as his hips begin to slow, knowing he is close to spilling himself inside you, that this humiliation will soon end. He pinches at your sensitive nub once more, feeling you spill yourself against him, reaching his own end moments later, breeding you, filling you with his seed just as he promised. 

He snaps his fingers and the cloak he put on you during your wedding ceremony is brought forth and placed on your shoulders. He turns you to face him, holding your trembling form in his arms, tears spilling down your face. What will your mother do when she hears of this? And Daemon? The thought is too much to bear.

As if he can sense what you are thinking, Aemond tugs on your hair, pulling your face close to his, lips crashing down onto your own in a searing kiss.

“You belong to me now, zaldrītsos,” Aemond rasps against your ear, low enough for only you to hear, “Just as I always wanted. I have the crown, permanently once I do away with my fool of a brother. And I will have the perfect queen.”

A shiver goes down your spine at his treasonous words.

Though it shocks you that it is not one of fear.

It is one of excitement.

”I wish I were Heather.”

Druig Was an Eternal, So we’re you, Him able to control minds, read them, implant visions in them. You Able to manipulate and bend water, like Percy Jackson, which was a book series you loved. You and Druig had never really spoken before. You two, it’s cliche to say, but you two hated each other. You walked down to the beach. Babylon was hot, and humid, your dress didn’t make it better, it was just another annoying layer in the heat. As you walked you hadn’t noticed someone watching you, nor would you that night. Or the next, nor the other, neither the one after.

Druig watched you, Y/N. He was supposed to hate you, but that was definitely not what he felt towards you, you were the only person he loved, he’d never say it to you, you’d reject him. He knew it. He was enthralled by you, everything about you was beautiful and precise. The way you’d use water, to fight the deviants along side Makkari and Thena, was just as mystical as your eyes, a startling Y/E/C, so beautiful. He just wished it were different, he prayed to Arishem, the only thing he’s ever asked for was your love, yet he never got it. It made him bitter, he just wanted you to love him like he loved you!

He watched as you walked down the slope of the sand that cascaded down the beach, your soft footprints left in the sand. You never noticed him, watching you from the balcony of the temple which was built over the Domo.

{The next day}

“Y/N!” he called after you as you were walking down the hallway to your room.

“What do you want.” You responded as you gave him a look of loathe, he sighed as he walked over and said,

“I just wanted to ask you something, please just let me talk to you for this once.” He said, pleading for you to listen and not walk away like always.

Just as you we’re about to respond, Ikaris came up behind you and kissed you. IKARIS KISSED YOU! Of course you’d be with him! Jealousy boiled in him, yet he didn’t show it, he turned to you and said,

“Wow Y/N, didn’t know you were such a whore.” He said with a sneer as he turned and walked away.

When he was alone, he started Crying, you’d never love him, he wasn’t strong, or handsome, or, or even as smart as Ikaris! How could he be such a fool for thinking just maybe he had a chance! He was going to tell you how he felt when Ikaris came and kissed you! He sobbed out the words, in a heartbreaking tone,

“I wish I were Ikaris!”

Unbeknownst to him, you were right outside his room. You heard him. Yet he’d never know.

AN;

So I’m making this a series. Hope y’all like it. This is part one. And will be a long series. Let me know if you like. It’s my first story sooo. Yeah. Almost all titles gonna be Song Lyrics cause Ima theater kid sooo ykykykykiyatk.

“My love your the devil.”

I HAVE AN IDEA HEAR ME OUT, WHAT I WRITE A STORY ABOUT, DRUIG THATS ABOUT HIM AND READER TO THE SONG THE FRUITS, By Paris Paloma? should I?