⸸ Eyes On Me — The Silent Orchestra ⸸
⸸ Eyes on Me — The Silent Orchestra ⸸
(An AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I made as many Abnormalities into aesthetically pleasing humanoids as possible, so OOC and fanon are to be expected. Inspired by my personal experience playing with these fuckers ladies and gentleman for the first time.)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Mentions of other Abnormalities like the Crumbling Armor, WhiteNight, [Censored], and Nothing There as humanoids. MC knows nothing about classical music.
Pairing: [Insert!MC] x T-01-31
Word Count: 2200 <
Description: The Silent Orchestra was born to be praised. To be loved. To hear the applause of anyone that stumbles upon them. But to guarantee the survival of the facility's entire personnel, it is detrimental that agents must deprive them of that privilege. No matter how deserving, no matter how tempted they are to scream and applause with madness...
...The Conductor must never see their soul.
Warning: general yandere themes (obsession), gore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The moment the Manager chose to contain T-01-31, the entire facility was bound to fall into break and ruin.
Agent [Name] was in the middle of doing Instinct work on O-05-61 when the warrior suddenly spoke to them.
"Go. Your strength is needed elsewhere." With a wave of his hand, a blue flame began flickering around [Name], sparking a new kind of vigor within them. And just like that, the door behind them slid open.
But before they ran out of the containment unit, they made sure to bow in gratitude.
Sure, it was just something the Abnormality did for those he found worthy, but it was still a nice gesture.
Some personnel had reported feeling wary or anxious around O-05-61. Some said that they felt something akin to a thin line being tightly wrapped around their neck around him. But for [Name], they only ever felt warm, safe, around the warrior, and with the blue flames engulfing them, that sensation didn't disappear, even as they traversed further and further away from O-05-61's containment unit.
Not long after, the Manager immediately ordered them to go to the Central Communications Department. Suppression Work.
[Name] could only assume the worst had happened. That an ALEPH-class Abnormality had breached.
...But who?
It couldn't have been Nothing There nor [CENSORED]. There were dead bodies, yes. A lot of them in fact, but it was too...clean. It was a word they never thought they would use to describe a massacre, but it was true. It lacked the barbarity and unrestrained violence that [Censored]'s unique killing style had. That Abnormality left entrails and mangled remains in its wake, leaving no surface untouched by blood.
But it couldn't have been Nothing There's either. The Assimilator left wounds too large to be from a human weapon. Besides, it favoured short-distance weapons; the scythe and mace in particular. These corpses had bullet wounds.
[Name] couldn't help but feel their heart sink. This was obviously a massacre committed by humans.
All the while, [Name] could hear it, the absolute chaos that was currently the CC Department. It was a tumult of horrified screams and the mad ramblings of agents on a murderous rampage. But even through it all, they could sense it.
The music of the end.
It thrummed through their bones, sending vibrations down their spine. It was as if the very sound was trying to encroach their mind.
By the time [Name] reached the Central Communications Department, they were greeted by absolute chaos. Beneath the sharp howls of violins and flutes, and the angry growls of brass instruments, they found their fellow agents.
The panicking ones were out on a murderous rampage, their eyes crazed with bloodlust as they hacked and slashed at anything that moved, but some were just sitting on the ground, staring catatonically at nothing. Then, there were those who were still sane, struggling to stay intact.
And at the midst of it all was the perpetrator.
He looked tall and proud as he stood there on a platform with his players. His hands gracefully motioned about, waving some sort of stick. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be made from the ivory of bones.
At first, [Name] thought it was WhiteNight, but no. If it was, she should have heard the bells before she even left 0-05-61's containment unit. This was...was this the new Abnormality?
The brass were getting louder, overpowering the soft chords of the strings, until eventually, all slowed to quietness.
But the performance wasn't over yet.
[Name] took this opportunity to land their killing blow. The man—Abnormality had their back turned to them. He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Directing the Orchestra? But there was nothing else in front of him other than four women in white, all of whom only played violin and...whatever the bigger violins are called. Didn't they only need the stick-man for a large group of players?
Like WhiteNight, it was a mystery where music was coming from. Quite possibly, this Abnormality had a unique ability that negated the need for physical instruments. That was probably what its little stick was for.
Carefully, they aimed their gun for his head. Sure, a rifle from Der Freischütz won't kill them like it would a human, but it is a humanoid. Surely, a shot to the head would stop him even for just a second?
"S-stop."
A weak, raspy voice halted them. [Name] looked down at the ground beside him and realized the Agent was still alive. Immediately they knelt down. Not to help her, but so they could hear her better.
"How did everyone die?" Information was more important than anything else right now. Their survival relied on being able to avoid whatever killed their colleagues.
"The...music." She began hacking up blood. It took a while before she was able to breathe fine again. "It drove everyone mad."
"Then how come you're still alright?"
"I'm a senior. The lower-ranks weren't able to withstand it. What level are you?"
"Three...I think I have enough Prudence. And fortitude."
"Save it. You think you'll be able to take down that thing on your own? My entire team was decimated by that monster." Her rage seeped through their teeth like the blood on her chin. But beneath it all, they could see grief. Pain.
"Wait for back up, at least. Or hope that this day will be over soon, and you can leave this hell hole to be cleaned up by someone else."
That was...true. The departments from the upper levels were probably still harvesting energy. If that was true, then they should be reaching the daily quota soon.
But that was hopeful thinking. They might finish the day, but would they be able to make it until then?
"God damn, this is what I hate about this job," she angrily spat out, blood mixed with saliva dripping down her chin. "You'll never know what you're dealing with until its out killing all of your colleagues."
"What do you think its defenses are?"
She blinked, trying to recall, but with her blood loss, that seemed like a tremendous task. "I...I don't know. At first, no one could hurt it, but Emily with the Black weapon was able to hurt it for a while. But then, it just stopped working. After that, that awful noise began to ring in my ears, and everyone suddenly went crazy." Tears began to pool in her eyes. "I think...it became immune to damage altogether."
[Name]'s eyes couldn't help but widen.
Immune to damage..? That's..! That shouldn't be possible! If nothing could hurt them, then—
They turned to look back at the pale man. Beside them, they heard the dying Agent chuckle roughly. "What the hell is the Manager going to do about this?"
What the hell, indeed. If it can't be hurt, then was suppressing this thing even possible?
The music became more and more dynamic, probably nearing its finale, until finally, the clanging of metal and abrupt bellows of trumpets warned the descent of the grand finale.
A...flute? Oboe? Whatever it was, it began playing a soft sound similar to a rooster's crow in the morning. And as it did so, the women in white shook their fingers in a way that made the strings tremble.
When it finally did, [Name] thought they could relax...but they knew there were consequences for this.
They failed.
That was when every single person in the room began to laugh, scream, and cry in joy. Except for their senior. The agent beside them only clutched their head, nails digging harshly through their temples.
"What's wrong? Ma'am?"
She began to scratch, the soft skin easily peeling off from the unrestrained force.
"Make it stop make it stop make it STOP!"
[Name] could only watch helplessly as their senior kept banging her head against the floor. They tried to restrain her, but they only wound up with deep scratch marks on their arms. Their weapon might kill her, but knocking them out with the butt of their rifle would be worth it. But just as they were about to do it, all the lights in the department died out.
That was when when they heard the explosions.
All around them, [Name] heard their final cries of anguish before it all ended spectacularly with a bang. It was as if someone had shot them to end their suffering, but...
They touched the blood that splattered onto their face. It was still warm. Rubbing it between their fingers, they felt little chunks of meat and shards of bone.
What kind of gun could...did Der Freischütz shoot his magical bullet?
But that didn't make sense. His bullets never miss. Once he shoots, it hits everything in its way. They should be dead right now.
Their questions were answered soon enough when the emergency lights began to flicker an ominous red throughout the entire facility.
For a split second, they saw it. The corpses lying on the ground. The twisted bouquet of brain mush, eyes, and skull shrapnel where their heads should be.
They could only stand there, shocked. It was only a fracture of a second, but they were already closing their eyes, unwilling to see more.
'Maestro...it seems like one of them made it 'till the finale.'
They heard an airy voice speak, likely from one of the women in white.
Eyes still shut, [Name] could only listen to the clacking of shoes against the CC Department's polished floors. It grew closer, and closer until stopping in front of them. Just a little, they opened their eyes to see.
All they saw was the white of his shirt, the delicate black ornamentations on his tailcoat, and the fine weaving of his cravat. Even amidst all the gore and blood, he somehow remained untouched, unsullied.
The false purity reminded them of WhiteNight, and it made them sick.
[Name] refused to look up. They would have closed their eyes again if it weren't for how angry they felt. From their peripherals, they could still see the aftermath, and now, they couldn't stop looking at it.
The fact that something could kill, cause absolute chaos, and still remain clean, spotless, or act as if they have done no wrong...it made their blood boil.
"Maestro, perhaps she is deaf."
"Or crass. Trashy Another rubble in the heap."
"They must be for not appreciating the marvel they just witnessed!"
A sharp giggle pierced their ears. "Ladies, please. Let's be considerate. We must understand that not everyone has the same refined tastes as us."
At that, all the women began to giggle as if one of them had just said something clever.
[Name] had to grit their teeth at all the insults the airy-voiced women threw at them. She would soon rather go deaf than praise any of these plastic-faced pricks.
What were they even talking about? What did their hearing or taste in music have to do with this?
The Agent was glaring at them when she suddenly felt a cold hand pull their chin away from their direction, forcing them to look at the pristine face of the man. Half of his face looked human.
Well, as human as Abnormalities could look. His skin was as white as the fine fabric of his clothes. It was almost difficult to see the thin line between his true face and the porcelain mask that covered half of it.
His mask's eye was pure black, forever crinkled by the perpetual smile on its black-painted lips. But his true face, the one uncovered, was unsmiling. Dispassionate. Determined.
But for what?
The women immediately hushed upon noticing his solemnity. [Name] could feel their black beady eyes watching them, as if anticipating what their master would do next.
"Maestro, please. Let's not waste our time!"
"I agree! They aren't worth your salt!
"Ladies," the one with the terrible laugh cut in, but this time, there was no disdain in her words. Only stern assertion. "Remember your station. If the Maestro says so, then we follow."
What in the world are they even talking about? He hasn't said a word at all this entire time? Was all the Agent could think.
"Consider yourself lucky, human," a different woman, the one with the...dot with a wavy line drawn on her left cheek said.
Now that [Name] was looking at them, they noticed that all the women had symbols drawn on their cheek, and just like their 'maestro', they all wore porcelain masks. But unlike him, theirs covered their faces entirely.
"Our Maestro is planning another performance. Just. For. You~"
"After all..." One of the women leaned back on their chair. With her chin still pointing up, it was clear she was looking down on them. "...the show doesn't end unless we hear the applause. As such, the Maestro wishes to see you on our next performance."
"We will be looking for you."
And, just like that, all the lights in the facility turned back on. [Name] winced, blinded by the brightness. By the time their eyes adjusted, the ensemble had gone, vanished.
That day, they were busier than usual. Much to everyone's despair, they couldn't end since T-01-31's breach had completely depleted their enkephalin sources. Even the ones that the facility needed to run. Many other Abnormalities breached because of the power outage.
Not long after, the ensemble's entries were updated.
ALEPH-Class, T-01-31.
The Silent Orchestra.
.
.
.
~~~~~~~ End ~~~~~~~
"Every song has a heart, and a heart, its own melody. By now, you should know his." - T-01-31's Redrafted Entry
This definitely won't be my last snippet on him. No, this is just the first movement~
More Posts from Cxsmosnaut and Others
Think of Me | Yan!Venti x Reader x Yan!Diluc Opera AU
Summary: Master Diluc, the infamous composer, has been the Opera's greatest star for years now, being a favorite among the elite, as well as your devoted teacher. Nevertheless, Venti's growing popularity among the masses garners your attention.
Credits: This series is heavily inspired by Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Phantom of the Opera”, as well as Bernard Rose’s “The Devil’s Violinist”. This short fic is part of the Opera AU series. Warnings: General Dark and Yandere themes, implied stalking
“She may not remember me, but I remember her” ― "The Phantom of the Opera".
You had heard about the joyful bard that enraptured the public's attention. Known to play in the lesser of stages, as some would call them: places such as taverns, bars, and busy streets. He seemed to dislike and criticize the pretentiousness that surrounded the Opera you worked in, to the point of refusing to lend any of his compositions to be adapted to the greatest stage of all.
You met him while running your usual errands outside the Opera, a few weeks after your debut, joining the multitude comprised of people of all standings who gathered around the small plaza to listen to him play the lyre and, just like them, became instantly fascinated by his whimsical style.
He dressed... extravagantly. His clothes were mismatched and had patches from different materials, which you found endearing and sort of charming. The only thing of value he seemed to carry was his lyre and the small hat that sat on the floor to collect tips, which was filled to the brim.
After apparently recognizing you, the mysterious bard asked you to join him for a very popular love song, the type that your Maestro would think of as too mundane and corny, making you hesitate for a minute before you ended up agreeing after some pressure in the guise of encouragement from the audience.
To your surprise, never in your entire career had you had that much fun singing. His music reflected in many ways the nature you had long before Master Diluc discovered you. It had a lively, effervescent joyfulness to it. It had no need for perfection, nor the dark exigency that you had become used to with Master Diluc's complicated pieces. Its simplicity felt right and freeing, and it brought you to happier times when you practiced for the choir try-outs as a child. The melody felt like a memory, which in turn felt like home.
His gaze rested on you for the entire performance, with a strange understanding, as if he knew you from a time past and this was the culmination of a long-awaited reunion. The same type of longing look a foreigner makes after hearing someone speak the same language as them.
The melodious last note is mixed with the loud cheer from the audience, which had doubled during the song. You raise your hand over your lips as you let a small giggle escape them, slightly surprised and amused by how you'd lost yourself in the performance.
Seeking the gaze of the bard, you are, for a moment, slightly taken aback.
By what, exactly? It was hard to pin down, as his eyes had an eerie and slightly unsettling quality of grim delight, of somber joyfulness…if such words could ever be used to describe the same thing. But it gave you the feeling that, despite the triviality of this moment, something had occurred.
The cheering stops abruptly, promptly followed by startled gasps that draw your attention. The audience in front of you begins to divide into a clear line, and your heart stops at the sight of your Maestro. Your smile died down instantly.
In unconscious response to the coldness of Master Diluc's gaze, you lower your eyelids and bow your head, surveying his dark profile in secret from beneath your lashes. Silence reigned, as fascination settled in among the crowd. He had a certain quality that created a conception of him as a being with a superior understanding of everything beautiful and solemn, the one and only authority when it came to music. You yourself were tightly enmeshed by it and felt in debt to your beloved Maestro, who had miraculously condescended to favor you over the rest.
The air condensed as he approached, his slow steps matching the slow thick strokes of your heartbeat. People started to feel the awkward tension, but the young bard stood unbothered by him, a charming smile illuminating his face. They exchanged some common courtesies, and even vaguer compliments, but you could barely pay any attention to them.
Your whole perception of your surroundings was hazy at best, barely making up something along the lines of: "Maestro Diluc! I borrowed your little songbird for a tune, I'm sure you don't mind" and "You heard about me, Sir? I'm flattered!", which sounded... almost like mocking, but Master Diluc tilted his head anyways, which seemed to lift the tension for a moment.
After a short indication, you wrap your arm around his, ready to leave the small, sunny plaza for his somber candlelit kingdom. Just before you start walking, the bard gently takes your hand, raising it up to his lips.
"It truly was my pleasure, Miss."
You feel Master Diluc's arm tense immediately but says nothing as you thank your previous music partner with a small bow. As both of you turn your backs to the bard, you see him reach into his pocket and pull out a single bill, which he drops into the bard's tipping hat, skidding over the coins to the dirty floor.
"Is it true? Are you absolutely sure?"
"I saw it with my own eyes! They brought the music sheet to the Director's office, but I think it appeared in her dressing room first, signed "Venti the bard" and all. Apparently, he wants no other singer, that's his sole condition."
"I thought he didn't like Opera Houses"
"Well, something must've changed his mind."
Persuasion
Summary: Aemond protects those he cares about ruthlessly. You are no exception. So he will have the truth, or someone’s head. Maybe both.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: NSFW. Overprotective Aemond. Edging. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Breeding kink (implied)
Word count: 2k
“Do not tell Prince Ameond.”
“Do not worry, my lady. My lips are sealed,” Grand Maester Mellos bowed lightly, gathering his ointments and bandages.
“Do not tell Prince Aemond what?”
By the door frame stood Prince Aemond Targaryen, arms crossed, and a dangerously calm look on his face.
Maester Mellos knew better, and Aemond’s seemingly composed demeanor was not to be trifled with.
The old man froze in place, glaring at the young prince as if he’d suddenly grown a third arm.
Clearing his throat, he greeted with a bow. “Prince Aemond… welcome back.”
He turned his eye to you. “I’m waiting.”
You huffed in annoyance, knowing far too well that he would turn something trivial into an unnecessary ordeal.
Because as far as Aemond Targaryen was concerned, your safety was paramount, and he would not have it any other way.
“Thank you, Maester Mellos,” you smiled warmly, trying to ease his nerves.
He merely hurried to make his way out, but Aemond barred the door, eyeing the man in front of him with a deadly stare.
“Aemond,” you called out, shifting to sit on your bed.
The Targaryen prince clicked his tongue, eventually stepping to the side. “Hmm.”
The poor old man was now visibly shaking, and nearly made a run for it once the pathway was made clear.
“That was uncalled for,” you half-scolded.
The door shut behind him, and he came to take a sit by your side, his face twisted into a serious expression. “What do you not want me to know, then.”
But before you could reply, his eye landed on your hands and you could swear you saw a hint of rage crossing his face.
“Who did this to you?” Poison coated his low voice, sending shivers across your spine.
He took your bruised hands in his, closely inspecting the damage to your knuckles.
It looked far worse than it felt. “I was sparring with Ser Criston. Just for fun,” you revealed, meeting his eye. “It was nothing much. This will heal soon.”
“He did this to you?” he sounded uncharacteristically… calm.
“No.”
Aemond’s tender fingers wrapped around your wrists, anger slipping through the cracks. “Then who?”
It would be much easier to give into the pressure, but you knew fully well that if you were to reveal who had been on the receiving hand of your fist, he’d simply storm out, not caring that the short amount of time you had to spend with with would be ruined.
“Let's forget about this for tonight,” you said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I've missed you so much.”
Aemond rose to his feet, arching an eyebrow. “Should I go ask Maester Mellos, then? I’m sure he’d be much willing to talk.”
Rolling your eyes, you held him in place by tugging at his leather coat.
“Leave the poor man alone and fuck me instead.”
You pulled him towards you by his pants, slightly wincing as pain shot through your bruised hand.
“Tell me who it was.”
Deciding to ignore him, you parted you legs to accommodate him, resting your chin on his stomach. “Prince Aemond… I need you,” you pouted.
The hold you had on the young prince was such that had Queen Alicent fear that it might break her beloved son.
And nothing pleased you more than knowing you could bend him to your will with just the right amount of persuasion.
It didn't take long before he started panting lightly as you began caressing his crotch through the fabric, enjoying your touch and how you so skillfully and rapidly had his cock harden.
His eye fluttered shut, and he removed each layer of clothing from his body, until he got to his pants.
“Do not stare at me like that. I might lose it,” he groaned, bringing his thumb to caress your lips.
Your walls reflexively clenched around nothing, and you felt your clit swell in anticipation.
His toned torso gleamed of a faint mix of warm colours that emanated from the candles spread around you, and you couldn’t help to place the softest kiss on the think hair of silver that spread below his navel.
Aemond undid his pants to ease the tension on his cock before tossing the garment aside.
“Will you not tell me?” he asked, slowly dropping to his knees as your eyes were fixed on his thick and leaking cock.
With both hands on each thigh, he further spread you apart, dragging the fabric of your chemise up your legs, revealing your most intimate parts to his hungry gaze.
You knew what came next, and readied yourself by leaning back, supporting your weight with your arms.
Aemond pressed soft kisses up your inner thigh until he reached your folds.
He was staring intensely at you. “Last chance to tell me, my lady.”
You could feel his breath on you. “What does that mean…”
“Who hurt you?”
Aegon had been the one to meet your fist after he decided it would be smart to badmouth his brother in front of you. Not even Ser Criston Cole moved to defend the future king. He had deserved it.
But the last thing on your mind was Aegon and his ridiculous antics.
Aemond did not answer your question, as he pressed a kiss to your folds.
“How is it so swollen already?” he growled, parting your folds to reveal your throbbing clit. “Do you like me on my knees that much?”
He had such a way with words that you reckoned you might be pushed over the edge from the sound of his voice and lewd words.
You bucked your hips into him as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance for a brief moment before he dragged it to lick your clit.
The sight of having the young prince hungrily eating you was enough to ignite the coil in your lower abdomen.
His tongue slipped inside you, as his nose was pressed against the sensitive bud, teasing it with each slurp.
“Right there… Gods…” you threw your head back in sheer pleasure.
The pressure on your lower half was such that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
“Aemond…”
Just as you we were about to plunge into blinding bliss, you felt him draw away from you. The immediate loss of touch earning a strangled cry from you, your clit demanding attention again.
At first, you thought it was merely his intent do shift positions, so he could be buried deep within you and having your walls contract around him from your release.
However, by the time he was on top of you, dragging the thing underside of his cock along your folds, yet refusing to enter you, that’s when you realised something was off.
“Please… please…” you nearly yelled, wrapping your legs around his waist to increase the friction.
But Aemond paid no mind to your pleas, and kept rolling his hips while sucking gently on your neck.
The moment he heard your gasps getting louder and breathier, he halted, kissing away the tears that had started to flow from the overstimulation.
He lifted his hips as to avoid his cock from touching you at all, and you felt the urge to smack him.
“What are you doing,” you cried out, vision blurry and chest heaving rapidly.
He pressed his lips to your cheek in such adoration, that your heart skipped a beat.
“Do not underestimate my feelings for you,” whispered in a warning tone. “I would start a war for you.”
Others might brush that aside as an overstatement, but Aemond Targaryen did not utter empty threats.
That revelation sent you pushing your hips to his, urging him to have his cock on you once more.
Suddenly, his lips twisted into a mischievous smile, as he suddenly pinned your arms above your face.
You eyes widened in utter shock. “Aemond….”
“It seems we are in a bit of a predicament, lady wife,” he purred, lips nearly touching yours. “You seek release, but I shall not give it to you until you tell me who hurt you.”
At this, you tried to wriggle away from his grip. “Oh… fuck you!”
“I want that, too,” he said teasingly. “But first, you need to tell me a name.”
He chuckled at the evident agony in your eyes stilling your hips with other hand.
“And you will not be able to have your release by yourself without your hands,” he said, giving your wrists a squeeze. “Your choice.”
Your clit throbbed desperately in between your folds, craving his touch, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his cock drippings strings of precum onto your abdomen.
He was just as desperate to have you, and you were perplexed that he had such self control.
Seeing that you refused to cooperate, he lowered himself into you, his cock pressed down on your clit as your folds enveloped it.
“Gods… just move…” you growled in despair, tugging at your hands in an attempt to break free from his grip.
Surprisingly, he did as you asked, rolling his hips slowly. You tried to mimic the motion just so you could get to your point of no return.
But Aemond knew your body too well. He knew exactly what made you tick, and how your body would respond.
He stopped moving at once, heaving a frantic wail from you as your release got put on hold once more.
“Aegon! I threw a punch at Aegon,” you blurted out in between sobs as your sensitive clit throbbed against his cock. “He was uttering nonsense about you and—”
“You punched my brother?”
You opened your eyes to see surprised on his face, with a hint of amusement. He then released the grip on your wrists and brought one of your hands closer to his face, rubbing your sore knuckles with his thumb.
“That’s my girl,” he laughed, planting a kiss on each knuckle. “You should have told me right away.”
You rolled your eyes. “And you would have gone after him. I want you here… with—”
He immediately cut you off with a burning kiss, and just as quickly, he angled his hips to bury himself inside you.
The overstimulation and denied releases had left your body so sensitive that it was as if everything stung and you had to bite your lip hard to muffle your cries.
He ground mercilessly into you, breaking the kiss and removing the eyepatch.
“Look at me.”
You were met with the sapphire in place of his left eye, and knew that he was close the moment his arms faltered, and he nearly collapsed on top of you, speeding up and gripping your hips as he pumped in a final broken rhythm.
Taking your face in your hands, you had your lips caress the long scar, knowing fully well he had grown used to you showing him how much you adore every single inch of him.
“So tight…” he groaned.
You then watched in marvel as his mouth fell open in a quick hiss as he stilled inside you, filling you to the brim.
Feeling his cock twitching inside you violently as he spilled his cum inside, drove you over the edge until your vision blurred in waves of colours, tearing the room with a sharp cry of pleasure.
Aemond managed to regain some composure as he lifted your lower half and placed a pillow underneath your backside.
“Stay like this for a while,” he said, slowly sliding out of you.
Your breathing came out in erratic pants and you felt him gently pushing inside some of the cum that had spilled with his fingers.
At this pace, it would not be long before your belly would start to swell with his child.
He caressed your face with his hand, as he brought his lips to press a loving kiss to your sweaty forehead.
“Avy jorrāelan.”
Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could return the gesture, Aemond slid off the bed, rapidly getting dressed.
“Where are you going?” you asked, shifting to your side, a gush of cum spilling from you.
“On my way to behead my dear brother.”
You groaned in exasperation. “Aemond!”
In the middle of the storm
Summary: A storm, a hard landing, an unexpected company and many feelings exposed.
A/N: English is not my first language. Sorry for mistakes. Valyrian isn't my language either. Just a detail, although the events of Storm's End happened here in this story, Lucerys is still alive. Because I want it to be and period hahaha have fun!!
Warnings: nsfw, f!reader, reader is a year older than jacaerys, velaryon/strong reader, sex, targcest, aemond very possessive, pet names, dirty talk, some soft feelings ❤️🥰
"Lykirī, ñuhys raqiros." (Calm down, my friend.) You whispered to your dragon, feeling Merax's annoyed snore shake your body gently. An amused laugh leaves your lips as Merax struggles to do as you've asked. You've been gliding beneath the clouds for a while now, the vastness of the night sky your only company. But Merax felt something, he could see and feel much better than you the clouds getting thick and thunder rumbling in the distance, he smelled a strong storm approaching and he was getting agitated trying to somehow warn you about it.
The two of you were coming from a visit to the Riverlands, looking for allies for the Black's. You came back with good news, which was very rare these days. Your spirit was positively uplifted. After many disappointments, finally some good news to give you some hope. You had the support of a great house now, with resources and numbers that would certainly make a difference in the face of a possible clash.
As your brother Jacaerys had said, dragons were decidedly more convincing than ravens sending messages. Merax, with all his size and sturdiness, made a pretty obvious point in his silent threat that things wouldn't end well if the answer was no. And besides, of course you were prepared to offer your own hand in marriage as an offer of alliance, as ridiculous and oppressive as that sounded to you. But a war was about to break out, you couldn't afford to believe that sacrifices weren't necessary. You were willing to do that, if it meant the Lord of Riverrun's support. You'd sell yourself like cattle if you had to, willing to do anything to ensure your mother's victory. His acceptance was all the motivation the other Lords of the Riverlands needed to also swear their loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra again, as they had done years ago when the then King Viserys Targaryen named her his rightful heir.
Yes, you were engaged now, but it could be worse. Your fiancé wasn't nasty as you knew many were. Indeed, Lord Tully was a good-looking young man; tall, auburn hair, beautiful blue eyes. He also had status as a well-recognized house and a great education. And he had treated you very well during the short time you were in Riverrun for the negotiations.
It wasn't the wedding you had dreamed of for yourself. But it could be much worse, you knew.
You felt the wind abruptly getting stronger at the same time as raindrops began to fall hard on your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. Merax growled and shook off his head. You knew your dragon well enough to know he was upset that you hadn't heeded his warnings sooner. "Ziry iksos separ daomikydoso, Merax. Īlon jahor sagon sȳz." (It's just rain, Merax. We'll be fine.) You said at the same time that lightning whizzed right next to both of you, making you jump in fright. Merax roared louder, shaking his black scales in annoyance.
Merax was very protective of you. From the first flight, both formed a strong bond that surprised many. Merax was a full-grown dragon, strong and terrifying. He was not afraid of rain and lightning, not least because there was nothing to fear, since he himself was a force of nature. But he wanted to protect you, he knew you were different from him obviously. Even if Targaryen blood ran through your veins and made you tougher than others, you were still human. And therefore susceptible to disease and disaster which, for a dragon like Merax, wouldn't be a problem. Whenever you both flew in conditions similar to this, he would get irritated and annoyed. You knew he would fly home in that angry, mumbling state. And there was still a long way to go to Dragonstone, you thought with a snort, it would be an irritating journey.
"Nyke tepagon bē, ao uēpa zaldrizes!" (I give up, you old dragon!) Merax seemed to be pleased with your giving up, though he growled at the nickname. You laughed feeling your hair stick to your rain-soaked face. "Ivestragī's jikagon ilagon, Merax!" (To the ground, Merax!) He wasted no time and obeyed you, shrinking his gigantic wings as he descended fast. You spread your arms, trusting the straps around your body so you could enjoy the freezing rain hitting your face harder on the way down, the strength of the wind against you making you let out an excited yelp knowing no one but Merax could hear. It's been a long time since you felt like this, so free. The obligations and pressures of a war knocking at your doors left everyone tense and with no time for fun. But, heavens, you missed it.
Merax spread its wings again as you both neared the ground, and you turned your attention to where you were going. The rain was very heavy, as was the fog, but when you finally managed to see the ground, you realized that you were under a field of crops. Merax continued gliding along the ground for a while until he reached an area with a large lake, some rocks and mountains around it. His huge paws touched the muddy ground once, twice, three times until he finally dug his claws into the ground to stop. You looked around for where you could take shelter and saw that farther away was a ramshackle shack, clearly abandoned. But it had a semi-decent roof, which would serve to quell the storm until it was safe to fly again. At first you were irritated at the thought of stopping the trip for a silly drizzle, but with the gale shaking your body on top of Merax, the torrential rain that was falling now and the thunder and lightning bursting in your ears louder and louder, you agreed to yourself - with a frown on your face - that Merax was right.
But your dragon wasn't relaxed like you thought he would be when you decided to give in and do his bidding. He looked even more tense now, in fact. Wings outstretched, slightly crouched posture and sharp teeth bared in a menacing snarl as he stared up at the sky. He was ready to fight. But what was it here that posed a threat to a terrifying dragon like Merax?
You could barely see a hand in front of you with the rain pouring down the way it was, but even so you brushed your soaked hair out of your eyes and tried very hard to see what threatened Merax.
At first you didn't notice anything. The only sounds you could hear were the rain falling in full force and Merax's growl below your body. But then a familiar roar sounded above your head, a fierce roar that had you straightening your body in Merax's cell, alert.
Vhagar.
You knew it was her, having heard that roar again before. After your aunt's funeral, after your uncle, Aemond, to claim Vhagar and lose his eye for it. You heard her roar when her rider was wounded, and you never forgot it. It was the same roar as now. And if Vhagar was here, so was Aemond. You haven't seen him since the family dinner fiasco where he humiliated you and your brothers. You had nothing against Aemond, in fact you had defended him when you both were children and your brothers along with his brother made cruel jokes with him. But clearly his uncle was no longer the boy he was before, the intentions of his heart being completely unknown to you at this point. Lucerys recounted a cruel pursuit when he was at Storm's End seeking the support of Lord Borros Baratheon. Thank the gods your brother had managed to escape along with Arrax, but it had been close.
You didn't know what Aemond wanted, or even what he was capable of, and even though neither the Blacks nor the Greens had made a violent move against each other yet, you couldn't help but puff your chest out in preparation. What if Aemond decided to do to you what he did to Lucerys? A cruel and malicious pursuit. Merax was a full-grown dragon, much older than you, perhaps he had even battled another dragon before. You couldn't tell. He hadn't had a fitter for many years before you claimed him for yourself. Until then he was considered a wild dragon, without an owner. But anyway since you became his rider, the two of you hadn't fought another dragon directly before. Much less one of Vhagar's size and experience. You knew that in strength you both wouldn't win, as Merax was smaller than her. But maybe if you kept your cool and a objective strategy, you could escape just like Arrax and Lucerys.
How the hell did Aemond know you were here? You didn't even know you'd be here!
Through the haze of the heavy curtain of rain Vhagar crossed above you, much closer this time. Merax roared aloud in defiance and turned his large body to match her movements.
"Lykirī, Merax." You said in a firm tone, trying to calm your dragon who was starting to act on instinct in the face of the possible threat. You knew you couldn't ask him to fly now, the weather wouldn't favor you. You had no option but to wait for Aemond and Vhagar's first move and then act accordingly.
With a loud thud that shook the earth below you, Vhagar landed. Her giant body oozing rivers of water as she shook her head and her wings with a roar. Merax was restless, not knowing exactly what that meant, but deducing that he was hostile. His paws propelled him forward instinctively, though you again said "Lykirī". But he ignored your request - for the first time - and continued on his way to Vhagar, growling and spreading his wings in defiance.
This was too bad.
Aemond's blond head popped out from behind Vhagar's neck and you could see that he was holding tightly to the ropes that connected her body, pulling on them as he shouted a "Dohaerās, Vhagar". He was trying to control her. So he didn't want to fight. It was just two dragons acting on instinct.
This spurred you to action and before Merax approached Vhagar to the point of no return you also firmly gripped the ropes near the cell, lifting your body a little to gain momentum and shouted as sternly as you could: "DOHAERĀS, MERAX!" He hesitated, wanting to continue walking, but confused by your determination to deny him that. "KELĪTĪS!" You ordered him to a stop with a strong tug on the ropes. Your resolve being tested by the dragon, you knew.
Obviously annoyed and still angry, Merax roared but stopped his advance towards the other dragon. Aemond also having succeeded in taming Vhagar, looked at you soaked in his cell.
"But what the hell do you think you're doing, Aemond? You know you shouldn't approach a full-grown dragon like that! Are you wanting to start the war today?!" You shouted from above Merax to Aemond, trying to control your heart that was beating desperately at the possibility of a fight between the two dragons.
Aemond didn't answer you, instead descending from Vhagar with all the mastery and grace that only a Prince and Rider of his level would have. Even if though he looked like a drowned cat. You watched him turn his back on you and walk across the muddy earth towards the run-down shack.
You stared at him open-mouthed, not understanding anything about this situation.
"Are you going to keep screaming like an animal at slaughter or are you going to seek shelter from this storm, niece?" He spoke loudly over the noise of the rain without stopping his walk. Merax seriously torn between facing Vhagar to the death or facing Aemond, fearful he might offer you harm.
"Nyke'll sagon sȳz, nyke kivio. Sagon sȳz naejot se gevie riñnykeā toliot konīr." (I'll be fine, I promise. Be kind to the beautiful Lady over there.) You said fondly, nodding in Vhagar's direction as you smoothed Merax's hard scales. Somehow Vhagar heard your words and growled at you. You widened your eyes and left as quickly as possible, almost running towards the shack. Far be it from you to want to be the target of Grandma Vhagar's wrath.
You entered the house, which had no door or window, both broken into and decaying on the floor. Large piles of hay scattered across the decrepit floor. Streams of rainwater seeping through the wood of the ceiling and the corners of the walls to the floor. It was all crap. But it kept most of the rain outside, and that in itself was a mercy.
Aemond stood by the broken window, no longer wearing his heavy black coat and leather shirt, wearing only a long-sleeved shirt. Hands clasped behind him, posture perfectly upright looking at the gale outside, water still dripping from his hair and clothes. You stood there in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously, the one-room house being too small to house all the strangeness that had formed around you both over the years. You didn't trust him. He insulted you more than once by calling you a bastard. He almost killed your brother. He was your rival.
"Are you going in or are you going to keep staring at me until the storm passes?" He grumbled without looking at you. Your bored voice unnerved you. You huffed and walked into the house. The sound of the wind on the boards making the house creak in a frightening way, as well as the flashes of lightning.
You walked in circles around the room, feeling soaked to the bone and shivering. Your boots soaked in water, your thick shirt half red and half black weighing your body so wet and your riding pants clinging to your skin in an irritating way, as well as the gloves on your hands.
You were smart, you'd read enough books to know that keeping your clothes wet on your body in this cold weather wasn't going to end well for you. Chills disease being, in most cases, fatal for those who catch it. And it all starts with a cold. You were one step away from entering a war, you couldn't afford to die from a damn cold.
You knew what to do.
But where could you muster the courage to take off your clothes while standing right in front of your slightly psychotic-leaning uncle?
You stood there debating the options, whether it would be better to work up the courage to do what you knew needed to be done or whether it was better to risk catching a disease and dying, when Aemond turned to you.
"I can hear your teeth chattering even over the roar of the storm, child." He said with a cocky smile, not unclasping his hands behind his body.
Child? You two were almost the same age!
"As if you weren't freezing after that storm too, you idiot!" You screamed, offended and embarrassed, trying to control your jaw quivering in the cold.
He just shrugged.
You felt your body shivering more and more, the cold of your clothes getting deeper into your skin as time passed.
"Take it off." he said, suddenly impatient, taking you by surprise.
"N-no!" You responded too quickly to be considered natural. Yes, you knew it had to be done. But hearing the command from his mouth made you irritated and embarrassed.
Aemond sighed, as if the whole situation was beyond him, as if he didn't deserve to be here with you.
"Come on girl. You and I both know it needs to be done. Let's get this over with." He grumbled walking towards you, as if he was going to take off your clothes himself. Your eyes widened like plates and your cheeks heated up when you realized that.
"I do it alone!" Your desperate words left your lips before he could get any closer.
Gathering courage, you undid the click of the chain that held your sodden cloak around your neck, hanging the fabric over one of the many old boards propped up against the wall. Then you bent down and removed your boots and gloves. Never once did you dare lift your eyes to Aemond, or else you would lose your nerve. Being in his presence for some reason made your heart race and your body tingle in a way it shouldn't have. Your fingers were shaking — you told yourself it was just the cold — as you unbuttoned the long-sleeved shirt, slowly pulling it off his shoulders.
God, why was he still standing right there watching everything?
And more importantly, why weren't you yelling at him about it?
You were feeling overwhelmed with emotions, none of which you should be feeling.
With a final sigh you finished pulling the heavy shirt over your arms, and without stopping to think too much, you pulled your pants down too, leaving only a thin, loose shirt that reached mid-thigh. Your arms instantly crossed in front of your breasts as you remembered that the shirt was also wet and therefore transparent. You wouldn't take that shirt off, even if it meant your death. But stark naked in front of Aemond you wouldn't be. In your peripheral vision you noticed him shifting from one foot to the other, looking impatient. You could have sworn you saw him reach out, but he quickly forced her back behind the body.
You didn't have time to think about the bizarre strangeness of the situation, as he quickly turned around and picked up a pile of hay, placing it in the center of the room, gathering some sticks and rubbing them together trying to generate a spark . Understanding what he was going to do, you felt yourself relax a little, the thought of warming up a bit being very welcome at this point. Targaryen blood or not, the cold was more than you could bear.
Soon you found yourself watching with totally unexpected fascination the mesmerizing way in which Aemond's large hands - thickly veined, you couldn't help noticing - twirled the sticks deftly over the dry hay. The way he gently blew to help sparks turn to flame. The way he seemed to do it easily, as if he'd done it a thousand times before. He gave you a tranquility and control of the situation that left you not knowing what to think.
A flame finally appeared among the hay and Aemond quickly surrounded it with the palm of his hand to keep the wind from blowing it out. He gathered more hay until that flame was higher, then put some sticks and wood chips he found on the ground to make the flame last longer.
You standing around the whole time watching in awe.
When the fire was strong enough to sustain itself, Aemond stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. Just like that.
You haven't had the time or mental preparation to see Aemond's sculpted chest and muscled abs to perfection. His skin glistened with the wetness of the rain against the fire's flames, creating a mesmerizing shadow. White hair clinging to shoulders and chest. He bent down to take off his boots - by divine mercy he left his pants in place - then stood up and turned his back on you. You gasped when you realized he was taking off his eye patch. He gathered his long hair in his hands and wrung out any excess water. Then he put the eye patch back in place and turned to you again.
Still not speaking, he sat down against the wall, facing the fire. You didn't know what to do, the roar of the storm still loud outside preventing you from leaving, but the awkwardness of being practically naked with Aemond in this abandoned cabin also didn't let you relax.
You should have stayed one more day in Riverrun.
"Sit down before you freeze in that position, niece." Aemond grunted, leaning his head against the wall and closing his violet eye. "Come here by my side and warm up." His words could have been interpreted as concern for you if he hadn't said it so bored. But he was right, you would really end up freezing like that. With your arms still covering your breasts, you moved closer until you crouched down and sat next to him, keeping a safe distance of course.
You stood there in total silence for a long time, long enough for you to feel your hair starting to dry. He still has his eyes closed - maybe even sleeping - and you're staring at the flames slowly consuming the pieces of wood. You had the urge to go see Merax many times during this period, but you held back. He was a full-grown dragon, he knew his way around much better than you.
Hearing the creaking of wood between the flames you glanced sideways at your unwanted companion, watching the adam's apple rise and fall slowly as he swallowed once, his hair a bit disheveled now as it began to dry without the aid of a brush, his arms supported on both bent knees. Oh, the defined muscles of his arms, firm forearms with prominent veins.
You really needed to go.
Unbeknownst to you, Aemond would also stare at you when you weren't paying attention, watching the way you hugged your knees to your chest, the way you rested your head on them as you stared into the flames. Your half-dry hair rebels around your face, your eyes reflecting the fire's flames, your smooth skin flushed...
There was a tension between the two of you, and that tension increased with every second you were trapped in this cabin.
You turned your head again to look at him, but this time you found him with his eye open, already looking at you. The shock of seeing his violet eye glowing with the firelight was so great that you sighed and couldn't take your eyes off it.
"What were you doing in the Riverlands?" He asked slowly, not taking his eye off yours.
You knew this moment would come. Two rivals trapped under the same roof without trying to get information from each other? It was impossible to remain like this for long.
"You know very well what I went to do, uncle." You said lifting your chin in defiance.
"Hmm." He said still very calm, looking you up and down, making you feel uneasy. "I was planning to pay a visit to the Riverlands myself soon." His voice sounded superb, as if he knew he had more to offer than you. It irritated you.
"I find it difficult for Lord Tully to consider a better offer than marrying his eldest son to a Targaryen, his grandchildren will have dragons and his son will be King consort once I am Queen, as I am in the line of succession to the Iron Throne." You said it loud and clear, daring him to retort.
In fact you never boasted about being in the line of succession to the throne. You were, unfortunately, a year older than Jacaerys, being your mother's rightful heir and therefore next in line. But unlike your brother, you didn't want to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You never made a point of reminding anyone of that. But the pleasure of finally getting a thrill out of Aemond, seeing his pupil dilate at your words and his jaw tense, made it worth using your ace up your sleeve.
"Are you engaged to the Tully boy?" He repeated his words slowly, as if he was struggling to keep calm.
You didn't think that would be the part he would fixate on. The question of who would sit on the Iron Throne was the point you imagined your two discussion would focus on.
"First of all, he's not a boy. Lord Edward Tully is a man. And yes, I'm engaged to him. Not that it concerns you, dear uncle." You said the last part muttering, turning your attention to the flames of the bonfire.
"You're fighting to be the fucking Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you intend to have a scum of Tully for a husband? Is that serious?!" He looked angry, his words carrying a weight that left you shivering and alert.
"What does it matter to you who will be my husband, Aemond?" You said standing up, which he responded by standing up too. His height intimidated you, but you would never let him see it. "This is war, in case you haven't noticed! We need allies. I know even you understand that, since your visit to Storm's End wasn't just to offer pompous words to Lord Borros, or to threaten my brother in a stupid pursuit, I suppose." In your rage you forgot the indecency of your clothes and dropped your hands in front of your body, only realizing it when Aemond lowered his heated gaze to your breasts.
You tried to cross your arms again, but he was faster. Aemond took you by the arm and shoved you hard into the wall, your head banging uncomfortably on the weathered wood. But you didn't have time to think about that because Aemond's tall, hot body was soon on top of yours, pinning you down. The heat of his bare chest against you, one of his hands resting on the wall beside your face, the other cupping your chin. His face coming too close to yours, too close.
You feared what he would do to you now. You were at a disadvantage here, your dagger still stuck in your pants, now drying away from you. Your recklessness in letting your guard down near the enemy could cost you dearly.
His chest pressed your body even closer to the wall, the two of you so close it would be hard for even a hair to get between you. His mouth went to your ear, his hand still gripping your jaw tightly.
"You're shaking so much, princess." He said slowly against the sensitive skin of your ear, the soft brush of his lips and hot breath sending an intense shiver through your body. You had no answer to his statement. "humm" he let out an amused growl against your neck as he dragged his nose along your skin. "You know, a princess like you deserves better than a shitty marriage to a miserable lord." He said before licking your neck, making you sigh and instinctively recoil at the unexpected sensation. This was so wrong.
"I don't understand… Why do you care so much about this? Why now?" Your fragile voice leaving your throat as you felt him leave a mark on your skin. Your hands went to his shoulders, feeling his skin tight and warm. Your intention was to push him away from you, but Aemond chose that moment to push a knee between your legs, which made you cling to him instead of pushing. He forced you to spread your legs to accommodate his between yours. Even though you had every reason in the world to refuse, you found yourself leaving.
"You've always been a fierce little thing, haven't you? Always speaking your mind and chasing what you want." He lifted his head from your neck to stare at you, even as his knee pressed against the sensitive spot between your legs, the damp fabric of his pants rubbing against your most intimate area. "But not with me. You've always treated me well, even defending me when I needed to." He caressed your nose with his, thumb circling your cheek. "I will not let any lord take what was always rightfully mine." The last words whispered into your mouth before he pulled your into his.
You knew this was wrong, he was a threat to you and your family. He was arrogant and stubborn. Your brother had almost died because of him. He thought you were nothing but a bastard.
You knew all this. And yet, you found yourself responding to the kiss.
Aemond's slightly chapped lips touched yours with purpose, after all he wasn't one for subtlety. His mouth devoured yours hungrily, forcing you to part your lips for air, and at that moment his tongue invaded your mouth. You stood on tiptoe to facilitate the kiss, one hand holding his neck and the other going to the back of his head, where you grabbed some of the damp hair and tugged. The hoarse groan he released into your mouth electrified you, left you hungry for more. You could barely breathe, the way he licked your mouth, encouraging your tongue to dance with his, making you dizzy with need.
Heavens, the frustrated experience of kissing the baker's son definitely didn't compare to this.
Aemond's big hands went under your shirt, gripping your waist and forcing your body to rub against his leg, nearly making you straddle his thigh. You pulled away from the kiss and slammed your head against the wood behind you, closing your eyes and moaning as you felt your clit brush hard against the rough fabric of his pants. Almost to the point of hurting, but it only served to turn you on even more.
You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and watching him shiver as you dragged your nails across his abdomen. His forehead pressed against yours, his violet gaze never leaving yours as he breathed faster. Grinning mischievously you continued your hand down until you touched the big bulge inside his pants, closing your hand around it. Aemond growled into your lips as you gasped in surprise at the size of him.
He suddenly pushed his way between your bodies to unbutton his pants and pull his cock out, always looking at you. Grabbing your buttocks he pulled your body up until you wrapped your legs around him. You moaned loudly as you felt him drag his hard cock against your soaking pussy, up and down, dragging hot skin against your clit.
"I want to hear you moan my name, love. Say who's making you feel good." His voice was husky and slurred as he kissed your ear.
"A-Aemond..." You sighed, moaning each time you felt the hot head of his cock nudging your sensitive clit. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over your head, leaving your breasts visible to him.
"Look at this love, and you want me to accept that this is going to belong to another man?" He growled and lowered his head to lick your nipple, holding it in his mouth and swirling his tongue. You tried to move your hips faster, but Aemond had an iron grip on you, forcing you to accept what he gave.
"Aemond, please more…more…" You begged, tugging at the root of his hair, trying to get him to look at you. He released your breasts and looked at you, his violet iris being almost entirely dark with need.
"Look at this, love, look at our bodies together, where they belong…" He whispered, forcing you to look at where his cock rose and fell against your intimacy. "Fuck baby, you're so wet. It must be fucking heaven inside you." He growled without taking his eyes from the junction of your bodies, just like you. The eroticism of the situation making you cringe in need around nothing.
"But I won't." He said and you felt euphoric, desperate to think he would deny you that. "I'm not going to take your virginity in a ramshackle tent, baby. No, I'm going to fuck you for the first time in a bed, damn, how the spoiled fucking princess you are deserves to be fucked." He continued to rub his cock into you, making you clench your legs in anticipation of the coming orgasm, your moans getting louder. Your arousal was such that his cock slid easily between your folds. "So be a good girl and come on my cock right here, now, love." He said continuously slamming his cock into your clit, sending you straight into a spiral of pleasure. Your needy moan sounded loud in the cabin as your body shook, your pussy contracting rhythmically with nothing inside, your hands gripping Aemond's hair tightly.
He laughed breathlessly, ecstatic to see your fall and allowing himself to fall too. Thick, white cords of come painted the skin of your belly, running down to your pussy as he moaned hoarsely. Aemond smeared as much of his seed as he could on your body, the knowledge that you were going to go home with his dry cum under your clothes driving him crazy.
Your legs were still shaking as he sat on the floor with you still on his lap, your mouths meeting in a wet, slow kiss. Your bodies now wet with sweat instead of rainwater.
You leaned your forehead against his, trying to control your ragged breathing. Aemond kissing the contours of her jaw and neck with a caress you'd never expect from him.
The whole experience had been surreal for you. The fact that you'd been trapped in an abandoned cabin with your uncle, argued, and that argument had led to the two of you committing such a blatant act of obscenity, horrified you now. But at the same time you were ecstatic to have done the craziest thing of your life. You were always a rule breaker, there was no denying it.
But the war between the family was still going on, you knew. This interaction between the two of you could go nowhere.
"What are you thinking, princess?" Aemond saw your expression change, he knew you were trapped in your own emotions. His big hand cupped your face and pulled your lips down for a gentle kiss.
"That doesn't change a thing, Aemond. I'm still going to marry Edward Tully, I hope you know that." You said, trying to convince not him but yourself too.
Aemond frowned, his expression suddenly dark. But he soon masked it with a sly, wicked smile.
"That's what we'll see, niece."
Wait wait wait wait wait wait that thing you said about leaving a lavish offering at the church while making direct eye contact with Venti to assert dominance gives allllll the brainrot… proposing to Venti by leaving a lavish offering to Barbatos at the church’s statue, complete with a ring in a box on top (let’s pretend that proposal rings are a thing they do in Teyvat and not just in select cultures in our universe). Just there in public, eye contact locked on Venti. I mean what’s he going to do?
-🫧
Sometimes I forget some people actually read my tags lol
But honestly it's so full of potential
Really just doing nice things in the name of Barbatos, knowing full well Venti's true identity, but he can't physically react or give off any indication that he appreciates it, appreciates you, because he's dead set on keeping the charade up
Just going up to him in the church when you both happen to be there and striking up a casual conversation about how much you adore and look up to the amazing Anemo Archon, going on and on about how thankful you are and how incredible he is, while Venti is having an increasingly hard time not turning completely red
He wants nothing more than to just pull you into an embrace, bury his face in your clothes, pull you directly out of the church into somewhere more private to show you exactly how much those teasing comments mean to him
It's just so much fun to give him affection and praise with him not able to do a single thing about it
Then the offering thing is an entirely different idea, wine and some Mora and a few more personal things that would only make sense to Venti (ok but imagine offering a cat plushy or something as he gives you a deadpan fighting back a smile look)
He'd probably complain to you later that you could have simply given the offerings to him personally (he's obviously going to sneak in to 'steal' them but that's not the point), you better not start giving the figure Barbatos more attention than our dear Venti, otherwise he might start thinking you're being performative
Now if you choose to actually propose that way there's no way he's keeping his composer, it's just not happening, whether he runs into your arms, tears in his eyes, repeating different forms of the word "yes" over and over, or if he has enough self restraint to pull you directly outside the church and do the exact same thing, is entirely based on how the day's going
You gonna get some confused looks either way tho, I mean you're literally offering a wedding ring to the alter of the Anemo Archon, is this some convoluted way of saying you want to become a nun? Then the reaction of the local alcoholic Bard, whose kinda infamous for performing 'blasphemous' songs about their holy God... Strange morning—
🪷 say my name like a scripture, keep my heart beating like a drum!
yandere! various! sumeru characters x gn! reader.
(PLATONIC‼️)
The sharp thug on your sleeve kept your eyes open but just barely - sleep was threatening to take over at any moment now but little Nahida did everything in her power to prevent it so.
You met the girl by chance as you walked through Sumeru City and were naturally concerned to see a small child wander such a large place all on her own. Confronting her, you demanded she tell you her name and her parents names but all she did was keep quiet... For the first 10 minutes. She could hardly contain her laughter as it quickly bursted out of her like a bubble, her green eyes sparkling with joy as she told you her name.
Nahida.
Little Nahida became something akin to a friend even if you were still uncomfortable with the fact that she was just wandering the city like this. What if someone saw her and took her away?! You voiced your opinions to her but all she did was gently pat you on the head and told you not to worry. She was stronger than she looked, she reassured you. That hardly did anything to soothe your nerves so you took it upon yourself to watch over her, if not for her own safety than for your own conscience to be at ease.
For someone so young Nahida was awfully intelligent. She would often say things that would leave you in awe and confusion, sometimes a combination of both. It was difficult to keep up with her but that's what made her so endearing to you. Late night strolls with Nahida became an almost daily occurrence as the two of you would walk together on the empty streets of the city, admiring the peaceful tranquility as you searched for a good spot to make yourselves comfortable and watch the millions of stars that hung high in the sky. The moon was your only companion as you would drown in the sounds on nature and Nahida's little voice as she'd excitedly point her finger upwards and show you yet another constellation she knew. Evenings such as these were not always so easygoing as there was a point in time when life was getting too tough to handle. You had no friends and no mora to your name, leaving you feeling lost in the world, confused on what you ought to do. The Akademiya was persistent on the notion that worshiping Greater Lord Rukkhadevata would surely bring your tired soul some ease but you found yourself being drawn to Lesser Lord Kusanali. Even if she never made a public appearance, even if no one knew how she looked like you were sure that she was doing everything she could to keep you and the rest of her people safe.
Sharking your thoughts with Nahida as her head lay on your lap, you missed the warm smile that was forming on her lips as you continued to speak fondly of Lesser Lord Kusanali and the various tales you heard of, never once realizing that your precious Archon was closer than you ever imagined to be.
"Did you come all this way to watch me perform, (y/n)?"
Nilou could hardly contain the sheer amount of joy that laced her voice, her pale cheeks turning scarlet red as she sheepishly lowered her gaze to the ground. The young dancer was smitten and everyone knew it, even you. A part of you was flattered for being able to catch the eye of someone so king, so talented and oh so captivating - the romance between you and Nilou could have easily be compared to a blooming Sumeru Rose, a flower renowned for its beauty.
What Nilou never realized was just how difficult she made life for you. She was a dancer and you were a researcher from the Akademiya - two opposites that were never meant to meet let alone start a romance. The amount of scrutiny, judgment and downright bullying you faced on a daily basis from your colleagues could have easily turned any reasonable person into a mad one. The arts were heavily looked down upon and you had no business being with Nilou.
A part of her was aware of the dangers you faced because of her and the guilt was too much to bare sometimes. She often found herself crying before going to bed because you never actually told her of any of these transgressions. Nilou would follow you all over the city, carefully listening in on any conversations you were having and her heart would become ice cold the moment she heard someone bring up her name. All she wanted was to live a happy life with you. Was that really so much to ask for?
Why was she not allowed to love you?
And more importantly, would you ever start heading the words of the people that kept scrutinising you and you'd leave Nilou for good?
Her heart could not bare the thought of you two parting, and she'd always end up passing out due to the heartache.
Golden embroidery shined delicacy beneath the tavern light as Cyno hid himself in a cozy corner, far away from any prying eyes as he carefully monitored you, his red eyes piercing anyone he didn't like. The people who felt his gaze would feel someone glaring at them but could never pinpoint the source, forcing them to leave you be with wicked chills running down their spines. Oddly enough your didn't bring any company with you tonight. A tiny part of him felt happy to see you, it was almost as if he could have you for himself these next few hours.
He just wished he had the courage to come talk to you.
Choosing to be passive for yet another evening, Cyno sighed as he took a large sip from his drink, the cold liquid washing the lump in his throat away as his gaze still lingered on your own, his heart beating like never before. He could feel the corner of his lips twitch in excitement, a rare sentiment from the young man. If only you knew what kind of grip you held on him and his heart, just how much power you held in your pocket, it was surreal. As much as he hated to see you miserable, he also hated it whenever someone would get too close to you, buttering you up with their fake words and faux attitudes. It also worried him greatly that you were aspiring to rise in the ranks of the Akademiya. While it would be to his advantage that you work with him (or under him but he could only dream) Cyno still couldn't help but to fear what sort of horrors could await you.
That is why he needed to do this, he needed to keep you safe. He wanted you to be happy. And he was going to find a way to insert himself into that happiness as well. Looking downwards him weapon, he spotted the barely visible specks of blood he had forgotten to clean earlier. Clicking his tounge, Cyno laid back in his chair in annoyance as he recalled about the annoying pests he was forced to deal with earlier.
At the very least, they were properly disposed of now.
An absolute lunatic of a man, you were sure that Al-Haitham was going to be the death of you.
Literally.
Here you were, trapped between him and a wall in some dark alley as he pressed a sharp blade against your throat, his cold stare contradicting his oddly gentle touch. His eyes wandered to your neck, the few droplets of blood making him furrow his brow but that did not stop him from his mission.
Why must you be so difficult with him? Can't you see that he just wants what's best for you? And yet, you call him a freak, a maniac, a man obsessed. This wasn't healthy you'd shout at him, tears running down your face as your back was turned to him but Al-Haitham would say nothing, his posture relaxed and his face neutral.
So what if he was a little crazy? What, crazy about you? People, people spend years searching for someone to love and be loved, especially in the way he loves you. You ought to see the misery those people are forced to face as Al-Haitham cradles you in his arms, ready to shield you from all the cruelty that ran amok in the world. He can turn things around, he knows it.
He just needs to keep trying harder.
You'll break. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then another day. But Al-Haitham will get you.
One way or the other.
Dehya was the kind of person that was Impossible to miss, especially in a crowd. The way she carried herself with utmost confidence was something you greatly admired but you were never brave enough to tell that to her face.
The mercenary was an odd mix of gentle and strong, femenine and masculine. She would always keep everything together and there was never a situation she couldn't handle, never a person she couldn't beat.
You were happy having her in your life.
She was an amazing friend, someone you could turn to in times of need an a shoulder to cry on if the time called for it. Her golden claws would gently play with the stems of your hair as you would share your sorrows and woes about your love life, how jealous you felt that your crush never noticed you.
Ah, if only you had seen the pain lurking in her eyes during those times...
Dehya never wanted to say she was the jealous type, never. But, seeing you bawl your eyes for someone who was so unworthy of your time and energy made her blood boil with rage. She would make her way towards a nearby tavern once you two would separate and she would drink her sadness away, her heart crying and bleeding the entire time. The strong liquor was never enough for her though, never.
She could still feel the pain even if she was dead drunk.
After much thought and consideration Dehya came to the conclusion that she ought to eliminate the main reason of your sorrows... and her own. She had the skills to do so, she could easily keep her tracks hidden too. You won't even know what happened to your scumbag of a crush.
Ignorance was bliss after all.
"... Please tell me that you didn't eat that..."
Tighnari's ears twitched in annoyance as he held your face close to his. I'm just checking to see if you have any other symptoms he told you. You can never be too careful he continues to say, his tone casual. With his skillful hands Tighnari managed to create you the perfect antidote to cure your sudden food poisoning.
The look on his face said it all - no more forest watching for you until further notice.
Huffing and puffing, you managed to get yourself back on your feet as Tighnari carefully placed one of your arms around his shoulder while his other arm made its way towards your waist, keeping you firmly pressed close to him as you made your way back to camp. With a hazy vision and a dry throat you did and said nothing as Tighnari dragged you back to safety while also talking about something you honestly couldn't be bothered to pay attention to. Black spots were starting to appear in your vision as your eyelids continued to flutter uncontrollably.
You were about to pass out.
"Ah, maybe I went a bit too far this time..." you heard him say but could do nothing as he placed you on the ground, his hands steady and firm as he held you.
Pools of darkness continued to come in as your headache continued to expand at an alarming rate and yet despite all that you could still make out the silhouette of his hand, a small but sharp needle in it.
"This is going to sting... I'm sorry."
Just as the needle made contact with your skin, the world was black and quiet.
🍒 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @morigumy, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopsia-sonder
i'm not sure if you've ever watched beauty and the beast, but there's a scene where he saves belle from wolves and I had this thought about little dove seeing capitano at his most furious to protect her and she's not sure whether to be grateful or afraid of him. it's not like he's ever hurt her...but he could, right?
I already did something similar here! So I guess this is a little continuation? <3
"Will you pray for me?"
In the darkest hours of the night, a bolt of lightning startles you out of your nightmare. The storm besieging the castle fell with such a fierce force that your little sigh was drowned out by the noise of the raindrops incessantly hitting the window.
Another lightning flash, stronger than the previous one, draws a huge, imposing silhouette in front of you. A giant in the dark standing guard. His greatsword, now clean and pristine as if it had never tasted blood, dug lightly into the carpet, its handle serving as a rest for the gloved hand that had wielded it so expertly.
He sat with his back to you, facing the window as if daring all the creatures of the dark to come out of hiding.
It is then that you realize that you are not in your room. You were in his. A much more austere room than yours, and smaller too, he had gifted you the most spacious, beautiful room in the castle. Sunlight always entered your room, but never this one. It was therefore much colder.
You here in his bed, no longer enveloped by his coat.
"Close your eyes my dove, or you'll have nightmares forever," he had said as he covered you and leaned you against his chest. The smell of blood had been so prominent that you still felt nauseated at the memory of it. You can't help but tear up.
"You will stay in this room from now on, tomorrow I will instruct all your things to be moved here," he says, apparently aware that you had woken up.
Gods... please have mercy. The thought of sleeping there every night fills you with dread. The night was usually the time you felt most at peace, he never entered your room without asking you first. What if you were always there and he tried to ...?
You raise your arm and move your hand towards him, not too slowly and not too quickly. You must not let him see how nervous you are. He should always think about how much you loved him, that he could continue giving you liberties, that you were his and did not fear him. You just had to give him enough to keep him happy, and he would leave you alone.
"I was scared to death until you came to save me, your grace. I should have thanked you earlier, I... I should have kissed you."
As your hand touches his arm, he tenses.
"Kiss me, you say? Like little maidens do to their knights?" he laughs, had he realized you were lying?... "Careful, Little Dove. I might take you on that offer, and once I do... I could turn to greed."
characters who fit this ; kazuha, albedo, XIAO, zhongli, tighnari, THOMA
dom reader ; g/n reader ; masterlist ; requests thirsts and asks are open!!
cw ; service subs ?
pretty boys who stare up at you while they suck you off or eat you out, kneeling between your legs like they worship you. just show him he’s making you feel good. his hands tremble where they lay resting on your thighs as cum from your previous orgasms drip down his chin. his lips stay parted as he takes in shaky and desperate breaths, waiting for your next instruction. he looks at you through lust ridden eyes like you are all he’ll ever need and all he’ll ever even begin to want. he doesn’t even try to get off or touch himself even though his cock is red and sore and dripping precum onto his thighs. he wouldn’t dare ask. all he needs is to see you in pleasure. so he keeps eye contact with you, promising you with each flutter of his eyelashes that he’s devoted to you and only you. he always will be. all you need to do is tell him he’s yours.
The other woman
part 2
You were overjoyed with your marriage to Aemond, unfortunately for you— he doesn’t feel the same way. You will always be the other woman.
Inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song The other woman.
warnings: incest (Uncle and Niece) angst, Aemond being a shit husband.
—
“Hmm” Your husband barely replies, an unamused look on his face as you make small talk with him over supper. You find his lack of response slightly embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm as you try to ignore the eyes around the table that observe the both of you interact. They have pity in theirs, aware of the bitter treatment you’ve been receiving from the prince since you were wed four months ago.
It was one solely based on duty, for your family name and to keep the bloodline strong, both your parents agreed to the marriage. You were ecstatic upon hearing the news of your betrothed. You had always admired your uncle, dreaming of one day being wed to him, you had always felt in your heart that there would be no better match for you than Aemond.
Aemond couldn’t have felt any more different. He felt trapped and bound for eternity in a marriage he didn’t want nor ask for, he was forced into it by his parents and sister— caving into their excuses of wanting the best for the family. He had a love he wished to wed already waiting for him, his sweet Alys, whom he would never be able to call wife or bear children with now that he was married to you. Until mere months ago he had viewed you only as his niece and nothing more, now he didn’t know how to view you. He was certain about one thing though and that was that you were not the woman he wanted.
“My love..” Your words are soft as you speak to him, hoping to make it less obvious to your family you were yet again trying to spark conversation.
“I told you not to call me that. Are your ears in good shape or are you just an imbecile?” Aemond’s words cut through you like a blade, his tone causing a lump to grow in your throat. You hated how sensitive you’ve always been, you needed thicker skin if you were to survive this marriage.
My love
Alys called him that, he had chastised you for using the term before — explaining to you why he wished for you not to say those words again. They were hers for him alone, it was a painful reminder for him of the woman he longed for, the one he couldn’t have. The one that was robbed from him and shipped away to what felt like the other ends of the earth.
“I apologise, dear husband. It was a mistake” You say, trying your hardest not to let your voice tremble as you speak. He scoffs, downing the wine in his goblet before he continues his assault.
“Utter those words to me again and I will sever your tongue” He spits at you, words even more venomous that the ones before. You hear Alicent drop her cutlery, a disapproving look on her face as she chastises her son.
“Aemond— how dare you speak to your wife as such”
Everything around you becomes a blur, you block out the sounds of his mother and the way he argues back— claiming that you’re his wife and he can deal with you as he wishes. You wish nothing more than to just disappear from this table, from Kings landing itself. To get as far away from your husband as you could, you missed your own home with your loving parents and siblings.
“Excuse me for a moment” You say, voice barely heard before you push out of your seat and excuse yourself from the table. With your head low, you exit the room, the humid air causing you to hyperventilate once you’re hit with the fresh air in the hall. You can finally breathe, no longer feeling the pressure of Aemond beside you. You didn’t realise how uneasy he made you feel, only now that you were away from him you were able to relax your muscles and take deep breaths to calm your nerves.
You don’t bother to return to the dining room and instead quietly make your way back to your shared bedchamber. Uncertain of whether or not your husband would return to you tonight, you change into your night wear and lay down. Your eyes are shut but you can’t sleep, your thoughts and worries plague your mind as you attempt to lull yourself into slumber. You hope to be fast asleep when Aemond returns, if he does, to avoid having to face him.
He stumbles in hours later, reeking of wine and vhagar’s scent— he hums a tune of some sort as he shuffles around, lazily throwing his clothing onto the floor.
Great he’s drunk.
Despite his obnoxious noises, you remain unbothered as you pretend to sleep, your back turned to him and your eyes still shut as you wait for him to undress and get into bed. You expect silence from him, his usual behaviour even on nights when he’s dead sober. You used to excuse his cold attitude from being too exhausted from his duties to wish you goodnight. Now you know he didn’t have any words to share with you, he could barely stand the thought of sharing his nights with you.
“My sweet wife, are you awake?” His voice soft and smoother than honey, a tone you weren’t used to. He wasn’t being short with you for once and it confused you.
You feel his hand caress down your side, sighing heavily he pulls the sheet back and slips into the space behind you. His warmth radiates against your skin as he presses up against you more personally now, his arm circling your waist and face nuzzled into the back of your hair.
“You smell divine” He hums in satisfaction, hand grazing the skin of your exposed stomach. Although you knew he was drunk, his touches felt good and you tried to savour it for as long as you could— even with the knowledge of how ingenuion his actions were right now.
“I am sorry for how I treated you tonight, that was not— that was not husbandly of me” He stutters out, the first time you’ve ever heard any of his words sound imperfect. His strong facade never faltered with you, with what little words he did share with you he was always so sure about how he spoke to you, it was you who was always a mess.
“Forgive me, my love” He hums, placing soft kisses into your hair as his hand caresses your skin lovingly. For once you feel a small smile grace your lips, his sweet words causing you to feel emotional.
All you ever wanted was his love. For him to treat you with the utmost care and for you both to finally find love in this marriage of yours, no matter how rocky the beginning may have been. Your only wish was for him to love you the way you love him, to hear him utter the three words you once said to him but never received back. Only then could you die a happy woman.
You almost cave in to the urge of breaking your silence and turning around to face your husband. You want to kiss him, caress his face as you confess how long you’ve been waiting for him to treat you so delicately. His touch full of love and care rather than the coldness you’ve grown accustomed to.
“I love you, Alys”
His words cause your stomach to drop, tears burning in your eyes that were now open and facing the panels on the wall beside you. Aemond repeats his words again, wincing slightly you shut your eyes tight and wait for him patiently to fall into a drunken sleep.
He was never talking to you. Those sweet words he just uttered moments ago were meant for his true love, Alys— not you.
The realisation makes you shut your eyes tight, tears shedding from them and trailing down your cheeks freely as you try to comfort yourself. Aemond falls asleep with his arm around your waist and face nuzzled into your shoulder, he feels so close but so far away from you.
He will never be yours
You repeat in your head like torture as you lull yourself to sleep, finally being able to rest with the finalisation that you were always going to be the other woman.
ii. to the enduring emperor: mercy, mercy. | yan zhongli x reader
part i: glory, glory! | part ii: mercy, mercy. | part iii: pity, pity…
content warning: yandere behaviour, unhealthy relationship, unequal power dynamic. reader discretion is advised.
notes: adeptus!reader. light hints of guizhong x reader and zhongli x guizhong, if you squint. good things come in threes, after all. not sure if I should write part 3, so feedback/ideas very much appreciated!
word count: 3.5k
When Guizhong dies, your world tilts.
Dear friend… I will be departing first. Those are the last words of your beloved Lord of Dust, before she dissolves into the finest particles. Before she’s dissipated by the grieving wind.
You kneel on wilted glaze lilies, clutching at her fragmenting pieces. Do not go, my lady, you weep. Not without me. But she does not answer. Morax stands beside you, eyes unblinking. He is so very still, inanimate rock to your wrecked sobs. Even when Guizhong had embraced him with her crumbling body, whispered in his ears for a last farewell, he had not said anything.
But beneath it, you know. He is also wavering. He is also dying. Morax remains unblinking, for fear of forgetting. He is memorizing. Memorializing.
As an immortal, you were not familiar with death. So rarely do the adepti die. But in this war, you learn different. You learn that the adepti are immortal until slain. You learn that the gods are powerful, but not powerful enough.
There is a limit to all.
Cursed with this knowledge, you can only watch, a helpless observer, as your lord fades into nothing. You watch as the Guili Assembly is halved—and your heart along with it. Cut into two. Half ground to dust.
The flooded plains are abandoned. The wild glaze lilies are no more. Your sovereigns, supposed eternal and forever under your protection, dwindles from two to one.
Even now, the world is still off-axis. Still tilted.
Millennia pass, but you never learned how to upright it. How to mend it.
In some ways, after Guizhong’s death, Morax is the same. Off-axis. Off-kilter. Broken marble warped into obsidian. One lord dead, the other descending into madness. The assembly disassembled, including Morax’s sanity.
Perhaps Guizhong took it with her when she died.
ꕥ
You do not notice the change wrought upon Morax until much, much later.
It starts small. So small you think nothing of it. After all, it is merely the compassion of a lord in caring for his people. That explains his growing reluctance in sending you into frontlines of the Archon War, as Liyue begins to find its footing again after the flood of Guili Plains.
So, in the beginning, you think nothing of his suffocating concern. Your lord becomes ever-present at your side, coiling dragon of stone wrapped around the clouds above you, as your gleaming blade dances and clashes against enemy gods. However, slowly but surely, stone spears are the first to pierce the heart of any who dare to intrude your vicinity. Your sword becomes dull. It no longer sings.
But when you bring this up to Cloud Retainer, she brushes you off. “You think too much. Rex Lapis is merely concerned for your safety.”
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