Ichiruki Is A Ship Worthy To Drown For !

I do all of those things I hope I'm not too annoying to people

Things people with Social Anxiety do

•go to the bathroom to escape

•feel very uncomfortable without a phone or some other crutch

•dwell on a small awkward moment for much longer than necessary

•never go to any social event without a person that makes you feel comfortable

•follow said person way too much

•worry about the person beginning to find you obnoxious

•faking an illness to get out of a social event

Reblog if you love Loki

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Trigger Warnings: murder, targcest, eventual dark!aemond, yandere!aemond, obsessive behaviour, typical targ madness

Summary: Aemond would have his sea-nymph one way or another.

Requests are open!

Summer blossomed like the pink buds on a cherry tree coming to life the day the young Prince Aemond realised his affection for his niece. She had ensnared his soul and enraptured his heart like the vines of ivy devouring the exterior of a Keep. Silver locks and lilac spun eyes that beheld all the secrets in the world, it seemed. Soft-tanned skin – a perfect blend of her mother and father though the same could not be said for those she called brothers – that beamed soft gold in the light of the sun and lips that looked as if only the sweetest of fruits had kissed them. Her hair shone pearlescent in a similar fashion to the decorations often found woven into her curly smooth locks. They fascinated him; the way the peals glimmered in the light and emerged from her curls like the foam atop a crashing wave.

More Velaryon than Targaryen in truth was she. She, too, had no dragon to call her own but instead proclaimed the sea as her abode and its treasures her horde. He wished to be considered a valuable item amongst those she already kept. Soft-spoken and gentle in nature she was her mother's pride and joy – the image of her grandmother they deemed the sea nymph. Sometimes, he wondered if she could grow a tail much like the mystical mermaid on the sigil of House Manderly and if she could, would she finally join her beloved sea and leave them all to wither on land? Those thoughts never brought him any comfort. Instead, he remained grateful that for as much as she wished to join the sea in all ways; she simply was unable to.

He often prayed to the gods in thanks for her inability to simply vanish on the waves.

It became lonely, living in such cold solitude, after a while and none could deny the younger prince led a cold, solitary life. His other kin shone so brightly, vivaciously and with such vitality that it was easy for him to fall into the shadows, the darkness, and the madness. He was a scarred second son of a King who did not even deem his firstborn son his heir. Aemond believed deeply in tradition and the stability such a thing brought to the realm; he could not fathom his elder half-sister bringing chaos with her untraditional succession claim. His sister would openly have a bastard follow her on the throne. Perhaps that’s where his true sentiments lay; he did not despise his sister for being a woman with a powerful agency, or even for being the heir to the throne, but for what would come after his sister's succession. What precedent would it set if bastards could inherit before trueborn children? What chaos would that sow within the realm? Aemond was a man of routine, tradition, and unrelenting stability all of which Rhaenyra was inherently posed to ruin.

Aemond didn’t wish to see his little sea nymph fall with her mother, as she undoubtedly would, due to her unending loyalty and devotion to her catastrophic family. His Gentle Dragon had no qualms openly expressing her love and devotion to the young men that would steal her birthright; it was bad enough the elder prince Jacaerys would steal her place upon the iron throne but downright insulting that, the younger than she, Lucerys would steal the birthright of her father from her person by claiming Driftmark. Aemond wished to see her claim her rightful place as the heiress of Driftmark as the only trueborn child of its heir, however, he would not want to see her seated atop the iron throne.

The monolithic, fearsome work of art did not suit the gentle and ever-changing disposition that she carried with her. Unmoving iron and sharp-edged swords should be nowhere near the supple curves and smooth skin lining her form, instead – if it were not for his no-good elder brother – he would sit upon the iron-casted seat of death in her place. He would be her King and she, his Queen. He had only to find a way to keep her with him permanently.  

Perhaps his father's addled mind and desperation for peace would smile fortuitously upon the one-eyed prince, for once.

It had been many a year since his eyes last wandered upon the form of his beloved sea nymph – a name he only acknowledged in his mind's depths. The realm’s Gentle Dragon had returned to Kings Landing alongside the rest of her kin when protests were raised on the legitimacy of her younger brother's claim to Driftmark. Something many deemed rightfully hers. She glowed effervescent in her Velaryon blue and soft violet threaded gown the silk gently forming the curves of her body and flowing down the lengths of her arms and back. It seemed the dress also recognised the girl's call of the sea for it moulded like waves and rippled in each minuscule movement of her own. The train of the gown followed behind her like the sea lapping at the sand of the beach never quite reaching as far in as it wished.

She stood beside her mother with her head held high in pride as her uncle all but disparaged what remained of her mother's good name - if anything was left of it to begin with. It had delighted him to see the Strong princelings debased in such a public manner and their mother alongside them. He enjoyed much less the disparagement of the Crown Princess’s only daughter and the belief that she would fall to the same whims her mother had and beget only bastards for her future husband. No, that did not please the prince at all. He had observed and planned and waited patiently for many a year to gain his nymph and she would give him no bastards – he knew she wouldn’t. His nymph was too intelligent, dutiful, and self-aware of the consequences of such a thing to attempt such a crime.

Still, his blood boiled, and his hands clenched behind his back. It took an effort to keep his stoicism about his person in the face of his ever-present wrath but within a second his wrath was replaced with bewildered wonderment. Gone was Ser Vaemond’s head; instead the figure of his uncle stood tall, proud, and nonchalant in the face of such grotesque violence. Aemond felt the stirrings of admiration and conflict within his chest at such a sight. This man, his uncle, was a threat, an obstacle, his biggest unrelenting guard towards what Aemond had deemed his. All the realms knew of how Daemon favoured his girls over his boys, and none could deny how he had claimed the Gentle Dragon as much his own as his other brown-skinned, silver-haired darlings. He clenched his jaw. It seemed he would need to confide with another of his aspirations if he wanted to succeed where others had failed.

As if the man could hear the thoughts echoing in the princeling's brain the Rogue turned and leered. Aemond could see the taunt within his gaze, the dare for him to be as foolish as the man who kept his tongue but lost his head.

He could hear the whisper Daemon Targaryen’s eyes conveyed.

“Claim her, if you're bold enough.”

Just as he proved to his father when he claimed Vhagar; Aemond would once more prove that he was, indeed, bold enough.

Trust our rage…

Damn that was so good 😊

Distraction

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After your (ex)boyfriend cheats on you, you find comfort in an unlikely place: in the arms of your sworn enemy, Aemond Targaryen.

Rating: Explicit (18+ / Minors DNI)

Warnings: NSFW, referenced cheating, academic rivals to lovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), hurt/comfort, fluff, Vhagar cameo!!

Word Count: 4.5k

Anonymous Request:

"Modern Aemond story where the reader gets nastily cheated on by her boyfriend (ex boyfriend then I guess?) and Aemond helps her get over it? Maybe with prompt 64 ("I love the way you look when my fingers are inside you") & 85 ("I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll forget this guy's name")?"

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A/N: Ohhhhh boy, here we go! Thank you so much for the request, lovely anon ❤️❤️

This fic is NOT part of the Home for the Holidays series, so don't read it as a continuation of that--that would be very confusing. After you read this, lmk if you can tell I majored in history in college lmfaooo.

As per usual, not beta-read but thoroughly edited.

The prompt list used is linked here!

~ Reblogging fics is the best way to support your favorite creators! Reblogs are highly appreciated, especially if you are on my tag list ~

Feel free to submit requests as well! I love them.

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You didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this. 

You’d done everything for your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend now, you supposed–from cooking and cleaning to doing his fucking laundry, and none of that had been enough to stop him from cheating on you. 

When he’d said the pair of you needed to talk a few days ago, you’d told yourself it was nothing to worry about, that he’d genuinely wanted to discuss something.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I thought you had a right to know,” he’d said, “I’m sorry.”

As if that somehow absolved him of fucking every other girl on campus. Asshole. 

You’d been a mess for at least a week after–you still were, honestly–but life went on, whether you liked it or not. Part of life, such as it was, included attending class, doing your exams, and everything else that went along with your final semester of senior year. 

Needless to say, you were less than thrilled to be stuck working on a group project with your academic rival–and bane of your existence–Aemond Targaryen. 

Of the entire History program at your university, you were constantly the top two in your department. Both of you were incredibly competitive, which only exacerbated the tension between you as you jockeyed for the highest score in every one of your classes. 

You’d been paired together on a project by your Imperial Russian History Professor–which you were certain was some kind of sick joke on his part–and had yet to make any progress on it whatsoever. Both of you had been putting it off, but as the due date quickly approached, you resigned yourself to working with him, if only to survive the semester.

That was, however, proving to be much easier said than done. 

He insisted that your project had to be about Peter the Great, while you pushed for Catherine the Great instead.

This argument was only the latest of many, but you thought you might lose your mind for real this time.  

“The project is about a great Russian,” he sneered, “Catherine was from Germany. You, of all people, should know that.”

“Oh my God,” you snarl, “I cannot believe you're being this obtuse--she was a foundational Russian leader, regardless of where she was from," you roll your eyes.

"Anyway, everyone is going to do a project on Peter. That's such an obvious choice."

“So you would prefer to present on the woman that fucked a horse?” he questions you dryly, a smirk forming on his lips, watching your reaction to his words. 

“You know that was a rumor made up by men who were afraid of a powerful woman,” your voice raises slightly, your face heating up in frustration.

Aemond tilted his head in amusement, his eye glittering in victory at the rise he'd managed to get out of you. You clenched your jaw, taking in a deep, calming breath through your nose. 

“You're impossible,” you say shortly, annoyed that he’s managed to get under your skin.

“And you're insufferable.” 

“Oh, fuck off, will you?”

“No, you're acting like a child.”

“Oh, I’m acting like a child?” you hissed, though your petulant tone did nothing except prove the accusation correct. 

“You are," he confirmed, looking so smug that you wanted to slap him across his pretty face. "What’s the matter?” he taunts, “Are you having issues with that little boyfriend of yours that’s always picking you up from class?”

That did it–you burst into tears. You tried to hide your face behind your hands, not wanting him to see you cry, even though it was a bit late for that now.

“Oh, shit,” Aemond’s eye widened, suddenly looking uncharacteristically panicked at your outburst. He scratched the back of his neck nervously, project now very much forgotten–you guessed someone having a mental breakdown in front of you would do that. 

“Did, uh…did something happen?” he asked, clearly struggling to find anything to say that might soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you this much. I was just giving you a hard time,” he winced as you hiccuped, trying to swallow your sobs. 

“No, I’m sorry. It's just…” you sniff. “You definitely…don’t want to hear about this, but…he cheated on me…sorry, I’ll get it together, I just–” you rooted through your school bag, searching desperately for some tissues. 

“Hey, hey, no, don’t worry,” Aemond’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, “I was being a dick. Here,” he hands you a pack of kleenex, watching your face cautiously. “Listen, you’re wicked smart–it drives me up the wall, believe me–and you seem nice--when you’re not talking to me, anyway,” he smiles faintly, and you let out a watery laugh at his joke.

“If he cheated on you, then he’s a bastard, alright?” he continues. You nod silently, wiping your tears away, though your breath still comes in sharp little gasps.

“It’s alright if this is too weird, but my apartment is super close by,” he tells you after a beat. “We could go there, and I could make you some tea, maybe? That always helps my sister when she’s upset.” 

You stare at him incredulously, not believing that Aemond Targaryen, of all people, was being so nice to you. You’d expected him to laugh at your tears or, at the very least, to pack up his things and leave you there. Not this. 

“You can say no,” he blurts out, taking your silence as a denial. “I just wanted to offer–”

“No, no, I’d like that,” you manage hurriedly, snapping yourself out of your doubtful thoughts. “Tea sounds...good.”

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Aemond’s apartment is incredible. It’s so ridiculously lavish that you think perhaps you’ve finally lost it and have started hallucinating.

His building had a doorman, of all things, and the elevator played soft jazz on the way up. You shouldn’t have expected anything else from the designer-wearing prince of King’s Landing University, but you were still thoroughly baffled.

The inside of his apartment was equally posh, with polished granite countertops and solid wood furniture glowing under the warm lighting. 

Aemond toed off his shoes at the door–they were Gucci, you noticed, because of course they were–and set about putting a kettle on while you snooped around his massive bookshelf that occupied half of the wall in the living room. 

His books were what you expected: history texts, a collection of philosophy books, and oddly enough, a copy of the Communist Manifesto by Marx–but one particular section of the shelf caught your eye: it was all Jane Austen–Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Grinning broadly for the first time in days, you seized the copy of Pride and Prejudice and padded over the kitchen.

“Big romance guy, huh?” you teased, holding the book aloft. “Who would’ve thought? Aemond Targaryen is a softie.” 

His face turns a shade of scarlet you hadn’t thought was humanly possible. “Austen has lovely prose,” he grumbles, snatching the book from your hands, “don’t make me regret inviting you over.” 

“Oh, come on!” you laugh, grabbing for the book, stumbling when he pulls it out of your reach. “I love Jane Austen; I’m just surprised you do.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re all ‘I’m Aemond Targaryen, and I wear black leather, even in the summer. Don’t look at me, or I’ll kill you’,” you lower your voice in a poor imitation of his. “I never had you pegged as a romantic.”

“I don’t sound like that,” he complains, “and I can be extremely romantic, thank you.”

“Really? You? Romantic? Since when?”

“Since always. Just because you’ve never witnessed it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he grouses, setting the book down on the counter and turning back to the stove to pour hot water into the pair of mugs he'd set out.

“Hm, I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snicker, accepting the mug he offered you gratefully. 

“Well, now that you’re single, who knows? Maybe you will, ” he quips back, arching an eyebrow at you. It’s your turn to go red, and you internally curse him for it, forcing a derisive laugh at his words.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You’d always thought him good-looking–how could you not with his shoulder-length silver hair and broad physique? His only flaw was his eye patch, which made him more attractive and mysterious. If it weren’t for how aggravating he typically was, you’d have had a crush on him long ago. 

“Was he?” Aemond asks, regarding you curiously over the top of his cup.

“Who?”

“Your ex,” Aemond clarifies. “Was he a romantic?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “Quite the opposite. He actually forgot my fucking birthday this year.”

“And you stayed with him?”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m just asking,” Aemond grins at your sharp reply, unphased by the look of irritation that was spreading across your face. “It doesn’t seem like there’s much to miss about him, is all.”

You sigh, setting your mug aside. “There isn’t,” you admit after a beat. “I was planning on breaking up with him after the semester ended, honestly. He just beat me to the punch.”

“Hm.”

“Have I mentioned that I hate it when you just hum like that?” you snark, “Just talk like a normal person.”

He outright laughs at you, teeth flashing in the kitchen light. “Yeah, I think you’ve mentioned,” he leans on the counter easily, “once or twice or a thousand times.”

He sips at his tea again slowly, savoring it. “Well, from what you’ve told me, he was a cunt,” he comments airly, making you huff in reluctant laughter. “It sounds like you just need something to take your mind off things. A distraction.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “I’m sure King’s Landing Tinder has only the best to offer.”

“Hm,” Aemond emphasizes his hum, grinning at the look of annoyance that crosses your expression in response. “It doesn’t--believe me. I was suggesting something more immediate.”

You snap your gaze to him, confusion coursing through you. Surely he couldn’t be implying what you thought he was?

“What do you mean?” you manage to ask, nearly choking on your words. 

“I mean,” he says, setting his mug aside and advancing on you slowly like a predator might approach their prey, “that I think there’s more to our little academic rivalry than meets the eye.”

He’s so close to you now that you’re sure he can hear how erratic your breathing has become.

“I think that you’re attracted to me, and now that you’re single, we have a chance to do something about it.”

You’re frozen before him, your mouth hanging open in shock, and your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You want to laugh at him or to tell him that he couldn’t be more wrong, but that would be a bald-faced lie. 

His eye lights up at your silence, a grin spreading broadly across his face. “Oh, you are attracted to me,” he looks triumphant, the same way he looked when he won a debate in class or scored better than you on an assignment. 

“You’re annoying,” you say lamely,  in lieu of outright denial, stepping backward, “and I don’t like you.”

“Perhaps, but you do want me,” he extends a hand, grasping at your hip gently, holding you in place, preventing you from continuing your retreat. Your breath hitches in your chest at the contact, and you swallow harshly, unable to tear your eyes from his sharp-featured face.

“Am I wrong?” he breathes, his face only centimeters from yours, “Because if I am, I’ll walk away. But I don’t think I’m wrong.”

You blink rapidly, your lips parted in disbelief. He was right.

As your attraction to your ex waned, you’d told yourself that the excited flutter of your heart when Aemond walked into your classroom was adrenaline in anticipation of the argument that was to come.

You realized now just how wrong you’d been. 

He was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. His hand on your side felt like it was burning a brand into your skin, marking you as his, and you found a strange delight at the thought.

You tried to tell yourself that this was a bad idea, that it was too soon after a breakup to hook up with someone, especially if that someone was Aemond. The excuses you tried to think of became weaker with each moment that passed with his gaze on you, dripping with desire.

“No,” you rasp, “No, you’re not wrong.”

“In that case,” he breathes, tugging your body in towards him, “if it’s alright with you, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you forget that guy's name."

Your eyes widen in shock at his lewd words, your lips parting slightly, a pathetic little whimper escaping you against your will. Your body floods with heat, pussy clenching, and god, you didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone so badly. 

“I don’t think you can,” you challenge, rising on tiptoe to bring your faces closer together, drinking in the sight of his dilated pupil and slightly flushed cheeks. “But if you’d like to try, be my guest.”

It’s like your words are a starting gun for him, and he drags you flush to his body without hesitation, claiming your lips in a filthy, depraved kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, and his fingers bite into your skin, but the twinge of pain only serves as encouragement. You bite at his lip, and he grunts, a hand sliding down to palm your ass roughly, his tongue invading your mouth possessively. 

You whimper at the thrill his touch sends through you, gripping his shoulders tightly, and he seizes you by your hips, lifting you onto the counter and slotting himself between your legs. You spread them willingly, letting him press himself against the apex of your thighs, and he growls like a wild animal.

He pulls back slightly, leaning just out of reach, his lusty eye raking over you, biting his lip in condescension as you try to chase after him, desperate for his kiss. “Eager, are we?” 

He looks so fucking smug that you want to slap him.

Before you get the chance to throw a scathing retort at him for his insolence, he’s on you again, fingers weaving through your hair and pulling, snickering under his breath when you moan.

His mouth is hot and wanting against yours, and you think that if he doesn’t touch you–really touch you–soon you might explode. 

You reach between you, grabbing firmly at the prominent bulge in his pants, and his lips falter against yours, unable to keep himself from reacting to your touch. It was your turn to grin in satisfaction, touching him through the fabric with long, purposeful strokes. 

“It would seem,” you smirk, delighting in the shuddering gasp he made at the contact, “that I’m not the only one who’s eager.” You punctuate your sentence with a harsh squeeze, and he curses loudly, seizing your wrist in his hand, stilling your movements. 

“You’re only just figuring that out?” he quips, though the starved look on his face makes the retort fall flat. “C’mere,” he grasps your ass, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter, grinding himself against you agonizingly slow, shutting you up with another fiery kiss. 

You’re so lost in the feeling of his lips and hands that you’re barely aware of it happening, but somehow, you end up in his bed.

Both of you are half-naked, your clothes abandoned haphazardly somewhere in the hallway, and you’re desperate as he trails blistering kisses down your chest, your stomach, and your thighs. He yanks your panties off entirely, his eye locked shamelessly at your soaked cunt. The fucker licks his lips at the sight of it, and you whine, moving to close your legs, flustered. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, grabbing your knees in his large hands. “Keep them open, pretty girl. I want to see how wet I make you.”

He trails his fingers up from your knee to your dripping folds, running his middle and index finger through them, and you tremble at his touch, the muscles in your thighs tensing. He finds your clit with ease–something your ex could absolutely never do, no matter how many times you tried to show him–and you cannot control the way your hips buck up into his touch. 

You want him inside you now, but he seems to delight in torturing you, even outside of the classroom.

His touch on your bud is far too gentle to get you anywhere but just firm enough to drive you insane. Slowly–too slowly–he teases the tip of his finger at your entrance, exhaling heavily as he eases it in, watching it disappear inside you, his lip bitten between his teeth. 

He pumps his finger experimentally, eye flicking between your pussy and your face, gauging your reaction with the same calculated stare he gave you when you'd made a particularly salient point in an in-class discussion.

You want to stay quiet, to deny him the satisfaction, but then he starts to truly fuck you with his long, thick digit, and you can’t focus on anything besides how good it feels. He slips a second into your clenching heat, his expression half-feral as you keen at the intrusion.

"Fucking hell. I love the way you look when my fingers are inside you," he groans, his eye fixed on his fingers pumping steadily into you, wetting his lips appreciatively. “So fucking pretty.”

You whimper, bucking into his hand pathetically, desperately seeking more friction. He seems to know exactly where to touch you, and you’re quickly losing control of yourself, your gasps and whines increasing in volume no matter how hard you try to keep them in. 

“I can feel you clenching around me,” he murmurs, flicking his gaze up to your face. “You’re so tight; did that bastard even fuck you?” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. 

Instead, he leans down, pulling his fingers from you and licking a broad stripe up your cunt. He makes his annoying little hum at the taste, but it’s not so aggravating now. 

It’s fucking hot, for some reason, and you reach down, grasping at the back of his silver head, holding on to him for dear life as he devours you. 

He plays with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, and plunges his tongue inside of you, and you give up on even trying to stay quiet. It was no use. 

“Fu-uck,” your voice cracks into a pathetic squeak, your fingers tightening on his hair and pulling. You can feel him laughing at you, the thrum of it sending shockwaves through your body, and as much as you hate him for it, you couldn’t–wouldn’t–stop him now. It all feels so incredible that all you can manage is: “Please. More."

He fucks you with his tongue eagerly, as if nothing in the world could please him more, and you can already feel your orgasm building in your gut. To your displeasure, he removes his tongue from you, but you’re swiftly placated by him replacing it again with his fingers, swapping places with his mouth and suckling at your clit harshly. 

“Fuck, you’re sensitive,” his smug voice is muffled by your pussy, and you can only whimper in response. “Are you going to come already?” 

By way of response, you arch up off of the bed, coming apart with a cry, gripping at his hair so tightly that you think you must be hurting him, but he just sucks harder, his fingers driving into you steadily, easing you through your high, watching you in satisfaction from between your thighs. 

He draws back, grinning at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

“What was his name again?” he asks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

You frown at him hazily, momentarily confused as to what he means.

“Your ex?” he prompts, eye glittering in self-satisfaction. “Don’t tell me you forgot already? Was I that good?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you realize what he meant.

“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp out, your chest still heaving. 

“Yes,” he stands, removing his underwear, the last barrier between you. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, the tip of it flushed and glistening with pre-cum. “I intend to do just that.” He digs through his bedside table, retrieving a condom and rolling it down his length hurriedly. 

Lowering himself above you, he takes your lips in a heated kiss, palming your breast, his fingers tweaking lightly at your nipple. You can feel him smiling against your lips when you sigh in pleasure, and you curve into his touch eagerly. 

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” 

For a moment, you think he’s teasing you again, and you open your mouth to make a sharp retort. When you look into his eye, however, you see only tenderness–a gentle question as to whether or not you still want to go further. 

“Yes,” you croaked, suppressing the swell of emotion threatening to overcome you at such a small show of respect, “I do.”

He slips a hand between you, guiding his swollen tip to your entrance, pushing into you slowly and pausing to give you a moment to accommodate his size. It felt so good to be filled like this, with his weight crushing into you, his hot, thick cock twitching within your cunt. 

You nod to him, and he bends to kiss you tenderly, pulling out of you slowly and sliding back in again, keeping his pace subdued at first. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me,” you challenged. “As good as you feel inside me, this is not fucking.”

He lets out a pleased grunt and slams into you hard, grinning at the pleasured yelp you make at the force of it. 

The pace he sets is brutal, hips slapping against yours, your tits bouncing with every harsh thrust. He kisses down your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin, squeezing at your breasts with the hand he isn’t using to hold himself up above you. 

You moan desperately, planting your feet on the bed and bucking up to meet him, trying to get him still deeper. He gets the hint, hoisting your legs over his shoulders and using the new angle to drive down into you, leaving you at his mercy. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands raggedly.

“So good,” you warble, far beyond trying to hide behind a veil of indifference, “you’re so big.”

His eye lights with something dark and primal at your praise, and he lowers one of your legs, drawing the other up higher, dropping his head to take your lips into another all-consuming crush, drinking down your cries of pleasure. 

“Aemond, please,” you whimper against him, “please touch me. I’m so close.”

Somehow, he understands what you mean, plunging a hand down to where you are joined, using your wetness as a lubricant to rub your clit in quick, harsh circles, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

Your cunt clenches around his cock, your legs trembling from the effort, tears gathering at your waterline from how exquisitely painful the pleasure he’s giving you is. 

“I’m never leaving this sweet pussy–fuck,” he snarls. “So. Fucking. Good,” he punctuates each word with a rough snap of his hips. 

You come with a loud, broken cry, your body shaking beneath him, and he groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him as you reach your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy, slamming into you one, then two more times before he shudders, spilling into the condom with a choked moan.

After a moment, he gently releases your leg, his head hanging heavily, his pale chest heaving from the exertion, eyelashes fluttering, a lazy, satisfied smile creeping across his features. 

“Are you alright?” He breathes. “I wasn’t too rough with you?”

“Not at all,” you manage, “I’m not alright, though. I think you fucked me too well.”

He snickers breathlessly at the compliment, slowly pulling out of you, pressing his lips to yours delicately, a sharp contrast to the sex you’d just had. Your heart aches at the sweetness of the gesture, and you return the kiss, hoping that he feels the same rush of emotion that you do through it. 

He rises unsteadily, disposing of the condom quickly and pulling a pair of sweatpants over his hips. He returns your panties to you and hands you the cotton t-shirt he’d been wearing, grinning at you sheepishly.

You pull both on, uncertain as to whether he expects you to go now that you’ve fucked, but your question is answered when he lays back down beside you, tugging you firmly against his warm, bare chest. 

A loud, indignant meow sounds from the doorway, and you jump, taken off guard. You quickly find the source of the noise: A large, elderly black cat glaring into the room as if to say, ‘Hey, can you keep it down?’

Aemond chuckles, rising again from his place beside you. “I fear I forgot my manners,” he tells you, scooping that cat into his arms and carrying her back over to the bed. “I would like you to meet my lovely roommate, Vhagar.”

“Hello, Vhagar,” you coo, extending a hand for her to sniff. To your delight, she slams her head up into your palm, erupting into loud purrs. You smile, scratching the old girl behind her ears gently, and she closes her eyes, leaning into your touch. 

“Hm. Well, that’s unexpected,” Aemond muses, stroking a hand down her back affectionately. “She doesn’t like many people. You should be flattered.” He leans back into the pillows, regarding the pair of you curiously.

“I suppose this means you’ll have to come by here more often then. For her sake,” he teases, though you’re sure you hear a hint of sincerity in his voice. 

“I suppose I will,” you reply, turning to look at him. “Strictly for Vhagar.”

“Naturally,” he studies you, choosing his words carefully before he speaks again. “Would you stay here tonight, perhaps?” he asks, “for Vhagar?”

“Hm,” you mimic his characteristic teasing hum. “Just for her?”

“Not just for her,” he replies without hesitation. “I think it’s safe to say that we both are…aggravatingly fond of you.”

You lean towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and then to his lips. 

“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to,” you murmur. “But this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to outdo you in class.”

He chuckles under his breath, stealing another swift peck. “That would be no challenge. As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re far better than me at history,” he kisses you again.

You nuzzle into his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “Well, if we took a romance novel class together, I’m sure you’d emerge victorious,” you mumble.

He snorts, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Vhagar creeps up the bed, curling, and settles heavily into Aemond’s lap with an audible huff, and you snuggle deeper into his embrace. 

The three of you lay in comfortable silence, and as you begin to doze, you think to yourself that perhaps you ought to write your bastard of an ex-boyfriend a ‘thank you’ note. 

Without his indiscretions, you might not have ever felt so complete.

You really didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this.

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re: aemond's bookshelf with Marx on it: long live aemond the comrade!! (i didn't make this, i found it on twitter ages ago so creds to whatever genius was behind this gem)

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Like this fic? Read my other works here!

Personal Rec: A Dragon Without Wings mini-series (contains spoilers for future seasons of HOTD)

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General Aemond Tag List: (Comment or message to be added. Note: this tag list is for ALL my Aemond works, so if you are only on the list for A Dragon Without Wings, please let me know if you’d like to be on this one too!)

@missusnora @babyblue-chaos @m-indkiller @star-dusst @jbaby2 @xceafh @julczimozart @warners-wife @a-beaverhausen @jaime-in-flannel @lauraneedstochill @meggiemay82 @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @boofy1998 @nika-sophie05 @lady-stark-winter-rose @schniiipsel @maximizedrhythms @w7kkio @caught-in-the-afterglow @hb8301 @candypurplebutterfly @melsunshine @namoreno @evisnotok @welcometothelioncage @nupppuff @ripdragonbeans

Can’t wait to read more!

Finding the courage – Tom Bennett x female!reader, Part 2

Summary: You spent a sheltered childhood in Brighton. Until the time when your father died. Your mother is overwhelmed with the role of caring mother, which eventually leads you to leave home and seek happiness elsewhere. But you have not in the least anticipated what or who awaits you in your new adopted home.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warnings: In some parts Smut as well as Violence. There will be an extra warning for the respective parts.

Author’s note: Hey you (:

This short Tom Bennett story is based on the request that was sent to me.

The story takes place before the first season of World on fire. I hope you will enjoy the story! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (: If you want to read more from me

Word count: 2.2k

Part 1

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You have slept amazingly well. When you open your eyes, the sun is shining through the window. The torn curtain only slightly blocks the sun's rays. You slowly sit up on the sofa. You don't want to waste too much time and go to your backpack. You gather your toothbrush and toothpaste and head for the stream. You don't want to know how clean the water really is near a factory.

After you have freshened up a bit, you go back to the cottage and pack up your things. With your backpack on your back and a roll in your hand, you set off for the city centre. After all, you want to find a job today. You pass the factory again, but this time there are no flyers being handed out. As you continue walking, you pass a market place. You dream a little and look at the small shops. Just as you spot the sign "Help wanted" in the window of a small clothing shop, you are jolted out of your thoughts. As you were about to enter the shop, you are handed a leaflet.

You look up a little startled and see the older man from yesterday.

He smiles warmly at you, but still he looks a little uncertain. The smile does not reach his eyes and his deep wrinkles reveal that he must have already experienced a lot of suffering.

"Here, young lady... An alternative to war"

"Oh?" escapes you as you take the flyer.

"Is there a war coming?"

The man is not used to anyone even accepting his leaflet, let alone starting a conversation. It seems as if he has to think about his next words.

"Well... it seems so. Germany keeps arming and as soon as Germany decides to arm... Well, nothing good has ever come out of it. The last time they rearmed, it plunged the whole of Europe into a terrible war..."

You nod in agreement, "So you're a pacifist?"

"Yea... There are plenty of other ways than fighting wars! No innocent people have to die... No country must let its people die in and through war... No mothers would have to say goodbye to their sons forever... I witnessed the last great war, it's not worth it," he almost whispers the last part of the sentence.

You smile at him, "That's probably true... but I have the feeling that when it comes to negotiations, be it about whether or why wars should be waged, it is predominantly men who are involved in these talks. It seems there is no other way than to indulge in pure testosterone intoxication and let it degenerate into pure violence."

His eyes almost sparkle at your statement, "So you think there might be less conflict if women were involved in such negotiations?"

You shrug your shoulders slightly, "Well, it's at least a possibility. Women are not out to prove their strength through murder and manslaughter. We like to use words. Because sometimes it shows a lot more strength to talk, maybe admit mistakes and maybe even take a step back."

He nods at you animatedly, "Those are really interesting lines of thought ,...?"

You smile, "Y/n Parrington."

He smiles too, "I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Parrington. My name is Douglas Bennett." He holds out his large hand to you and you shake it. His hand is quite rough, unlike your soft hands.

Your conversation is getting out of hand. Mr Bennett has stopped handing out his leaflets and you are now sitting on a bench talking animatedly. He is pleasant to talk to, even if he sometimes contradicts you. But he never loses his politeness and tries to develop your thoughts.

When suddenly you notice that the sun is setting.

"Oh shit!" you say and Mr. Bennett looks at you a little startled.

"I completely forgot about the time! I was going to look for a job today. Well, that's not going to happen today."

You stand up and turn to Mr. Bennett, "It's been a pleasure Mr Bennett," but as you hold out your hand to him he makes no move to accept this farewell. He only now notices that you have a fully packed backpack with you.

"Don't you have a job here?"

You shake your head slightly.

"Do you have anywhere to eat?"

"Well... I would buy a little something to eat..."

He shakes his head, "No way! Come to my house. There you can eat something"

Now you look at him a little startled. Suddenly you remember how he left with the young lady yesterday. Is he now trying the same trick on you?

He laughs as he notices your worried look, "Sorry! Don't worry, my daughter and son will be there too. But I would be happy if you would eat with us today."

You are reassured that it is probably not a trick on his part, but you still hesitate. On the other hand, it would be a warm house and a warm meal, so you agree.

You continue your conversation on the way. When you enter the house, you are alone.

Mr. Bennett leads you through the small hallway into the kitchen. You wonder a little whether it was right to go with him as the front door opens, "Hey Dad! It's me! Sorry I'm late!"

The pretty lady from yesterday enters the hallway and comes into the kitchen.

"Oh hello?", now she stands in front of you smiling.

"Hey, I'm y/n Parrington," you extend your hand to her.

"Hey, I'm Lois Bennett," and she gently shakes your hand.

Mr. Bennett sits down at the kitchen table and starts reading a newspaper

"And Tom brought you...?", she looks around briefly, as if looking for someone.

You look at her in irritation.

"No. Don't be silly. We chatted a bit in the marketplace today and lost track of time. And then I offered her to have dinner with us", you hear Mr. Bennett suddenly say.

Lois nods, "So you're a pacifist and not another conquest of my brother," she winks at you.

You blush slightly, "Yeah something like that I am."

As Mr. Bennett interjects, "Lois, please behave… Do you actually know where Tom is?"

She shrugs, "Well, he'll probably be at his favourite pub."

Douglas looks back down at his newspaper and shakes his head slightly.

"Will you help me cook?" Lois asks you with a smile.

You nod happily at her, "I'd love to"

When you start peeling the potatoes, you get curious, "So Tom is your brother?"

She smiles, " Yea... He can be a bit... Difficult? But he is actually a kind-hearted person."

You smile at her.

You talk animatedly while you prepare the food, and that is something you have rarely experienced before. You meet two people in one day who are so nice and helpful and with whom you have a lot of animated conversation. You eat together and the conversations and laughter never let up. You simply feel good. For the first time in a long time, you just feel good.

After dinner, Mr. Bennett wants to show Lois something on the first floor.

Meanwhile, you make yourself useful and start doing the dishes. When the two come back downstairs, Lois sees that most of the washing up has already been done.

"Oooh y/n! You're a darling! You didn't have to do that!"

But you nod, "Yes I do! You're so nice to me and invited me to dinner... the least I can do is wash up."

Lois smiles at you, "Actually, that's not a bad idea..."

You look at her questioningly.

"Dad told me that you're going to get a job today... maybe you could help me around the house instead?"

Mr. Bennett nods slightly, "Actually, it's not such a bad idea. Then you would have less stress with the household."

You look at them both, "I don't even know what to say to that..."

"How about a yes?", Lois smiles at you.

As Mr. Bennett speaks up again, "But I won't be able to pay you much... But you can always eat with us!"

"No way! You don't have to pay me anything! That I can be here and eat with you, that's quite enough," you almost laugh with joy.

In the evening you are on your way back to the industrial area when you pass a pub.

Loud music and laughter permeate the street and you immediately feel reminded of your old job. You smile slightly and suddenly feel like having a beer.

You slowly enter the pub. You make your way through the dancing people and are walking towards the bar when you spot it. You order a beer, sit down on a bar stool and watch the hustle and bustle of the pub. There is good music playing and the more beer you drink, the more your leg bobs to the rhythm of the music.

Some people dance to the music, and that just fits in with the exuberant mood in the pub. Suddenly you notice a man next to you staring at you. He has medium-length brown hair that could do with a wash. He is not bad looking, but something about him gives you an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Hey, pretty mouse! How about... you and me? Do you want to dance?" he almost shouts to drown out the music.

"Mmhm, no… but thanks for the tempting offer anyway"

He smiles at you, "Oh come on... There's no harm in rubbing our hips together a bit."

"I think I'll pass."

"Then not," he grunts and continues walking.

You look after him and shake your head.

As you finish your beer, you want to go to the toilet before you leave.

After you have been to the toilet, you look in the mirror again and smile. Today was simply a beautiful day. You run your fingers through your hair again and leave the toilet.

But when you come out, the man is suddenly standing in front of you.

"Hey, beautiful... Is it a coincidence that we meet again?", a cloud of beer is breathed towards you.

"Well, if you were just going to the toilet, I don't think so. Excuse me please"

You want to push past him, but he leans his arm against the wall and blocks your way.

"Oh, sweetheart... Why are you like this? We could have some fun..."

"I don't want to have fun with you. "

He tries to brush the strand of hair from your face, but you turn your head away.

"Hey! Peter! I don't think the girl wants to feel your little worm today!"

Your gaze falls on the man who is suddenly standing behind the disgusting guy. Steel-blue eyes stare back at you and his blond hair looks seductively soft. Almost relaxed, he takes a drag from his cigarette.

"Yo Bennett... what do you want?", the guy doesn't even turn his head towards your saviour.

"That you leave the girl alone", provocatively, he blows his cigarette smoke at Peter as he turns his head in his direction.

You don't catch much of the conversation as you have to concentrate hard on breathing normally. The blue eyes have somehow captivated you.

Peter sighs, "Well, nothing seems to be going on with her anyway. You can try your luck."

You look after him, startled, as he finally walks away.

The two guys look into each other's eyes for a moment, but the unpleasant guy just keeps walking.

And then the blue eyes fall on you again. You were not aware that you were holding your breath, so you exhale deeply. You clear your throat and you adjust your dress and walk towards your saviour, "Mhmm, I guess I should thank you."

He smiles at you and you feel yourself suddenly getting warm. The warmth spreads pleasantly through your body and reaches its peak on your cheeks. It's either you or the beer you drank that he has such an effect on you.

"No problem, love," he replies, still smiling.

You can't help but return the smile. You nod at him and want to walk past him.

"Ey... Do you want me to take you home?"

But you shake your head, "No, that's alright, I don't live far from here".

You smile at him again and he just nods. He looks after you as you leave the pub.

Tom stands there for a while. He doesn't know what the feeling is inside him, but when you entered the pub, all he saw was you. Everything else was no longer visible to him. The way you cautiously entered the pub, looking around almost shyly, taking it all in with your big eyes. Your long hair braided into a pigtail that fell over your shoulders and your light dress that clung perfectly to your body. He could not take his eyes off you. But at the same time, he didn't dare talk to you. Usually he is never shy when it comes to talk to a woman, but somehow he was afraid that he might embarrass himself. For whatever reason...

Even though he has not yet exchanged a real sentence with you and does not know your name, he knows that he has to see you again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @chainsawsangel @hoshi-miharu-blog @khaothick @yentroucnagol @daydreamy-me @depressedperson88 @iwontshutuptilltheyaddgeckoemoji

The Grand Infinity War Theory

My current theory for Avengers 4 and Dr. Strange’s plan has come down to the following points you need to pay attention to.

1. Gamora’s soul is bound to the soul stone. She was bound because she was sacrificed in exchange for the stone.

2. After The Snap, Thanos found himself at a quiet, orange colored, watery place, where he briefly speaks to Gamora as a child. This place was inside the soul stone, and it was Gamora’s soul. Note that the color fits.

3. Everyone who became dust and Gamora’s soul can be saved. Other manual deaths may be permanent.

4. Dr. Strange has seen the one possible future where the heroes succeed. Strange is planning to set up everything so that this timeline occurs.

5. Likely on Titan, Dr. Strange travels into the past via the Time Gem and recruits Heimdall, The Hulk and possibly Loki.

6a. The Hulk is crucial for the victory timeline, and he must do something at the right moment. For this reason, Heimdall sacrificed himself to send Hulk back to Earth, and Hulk refuses to show himself until the time is right. If Loki was recruited as well, his job was to ensure Thor’s survival, because he is crucial for the victory timeline.

6b. Note that Dr. Strange had Heimdall send Hulk to himself on Earth, so Strange knew beforehand that someone had sent Hulk, and he may have realized later that it was himself. This is how he knew what to do.

7. Dr. Strange sacrifices the Time Gem at to correct moment to save Tony, because Tony is required for the victory timeline, saying to Tony: “It was the only way.”

8. Furthering point 7, all the major technicians (Rocket, Tony, Bruce, Shuri) are still around. They may be required to combine their brilliance in order to beat Thanos.

9. For each infinity stone, a character sacrificed themselves or someone they loved, at least attempting to do so. These sacrifices usually happened in the presence of a particular stone. It may be that these sacrifices make different characters the real masters of the stones.

Power Gem: Groot sacrifices himself out of love (Guardians vol. 1) Space Gem: Loki for Thor Reality Gem: Quill -> Gamora (attempted in presence of the gem) Soul Gem: Gamora -> herself (for Nebula, but not in presence of the gem) Mind Gem: Wanda -> Vision Time Gem: Strange -> unclear at this point (maybe himself & his duty)

Even with Dr. Strange’s sacrifice being unclear and Gamora not being in the presence of the soul gem, all of this is a pattern, and pattern implies purpose. This leads me to consider that these characters, when working together, have full control over all the stones, and the stones may refuse Thanos even if he wields them.

Would love a part two.

Vexation

warnings: obscene language, reader talking back to elder people, sweet, fluff. That's all, I think? Haha!

pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

summary:

The well-known Lady Thorn of Highgarden finally visited you after a year of being wed to Prince Aemond. However, you have a feeling it will not go well.

a/n: this was supposed to be a 100 followers thank you fic but I just finished it today lol Enjoy!

like always, LIKES are really welcome but this duck will do the duck dance if you also REBLOG and LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS about her stories. i love reading them and they inspire me a lot. ✨

You have been acting up since earlier when your mother informed you that your grandmother decided to visit the two of you after many moons of being wed.

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"For someone who hasn't seen their grandmother for years, you seem not thrilled enough, my love." He gave a light chuckle when he saw your face with a sneer.

And you have a feeling that he was enjoying this different side of you.

You're always calm and collected and it was rare to see you so agitated about someone who used to be your mentor.

No, you're not like this because you're troubled she did not visit you sooner.

Nor, it was due to you not caring about her enough either.

It's the opposite.

You love her.......truly.

And you know her better than anyone in this kingdom. Her old bones, wit and all.

If you have been asked to give one word to describe her, that would be; a nuisance.

"Well, if I were you, you should too." He raised his eyebrow at that but the look of wonder was still etched all over his face.

"I still fail to understand what was so wrong in meeting, not just your grandmother but your teacher when you were young. I bet she can share stories I do not know about you, Lady wife."

"I also fail to understand why such a man of your stature was so excited to meet a chattering old lady, Lord husband." You said as a matter of fact.

At this point, you knew that he truly thinks you do not want to meet her for fear of hearing embarrassing stories about your childhood.

He did think about one thing right, but he did not hit the head in the nail on what your fear truly was for.

"Enlighten me, my love. What did your grandmother do to earn your ire?" Before you could share the reason for your distress, a servant's knock disrupted your conversation.

"Pardon me, my prince and my lady. Lady Tyrell was waiting in the sitting room." The servant bowed once she announced the arrival of your family. She stood near the door, waiting for your command.

With a sigh, you stood up and went near your husband. Your hand reaches for his hair and you run through your fingers on his soft locks. Your hand fixes the ones that always seem to find themselves unaligned.

He closes his eyes and leaves a soft "hmmm" on his lips as he savors the feel of your fingers through his hair.

"Are you certain you want me to go and waste my time with that old monster instead of doing this with you?" You smiled sweetly at him and pouted your lips to convince him not to let you go and finally meet your grandmother.

However, instead of saying yes, he chuckled and warm calloused hands clasped yours.

"As much as I love to do that and stay with you in our chambers, wrapped around my arms, your refusal to meet her might leave a wrongful impression towards who I am. So go now, dear wife, I know you'll come back to me safe and sound."

A grumble left you before you pecked his nose. He frowned a bit at your rebellious antics. You always give him a kiss on the lips and wish him well before he trains. But today, you're not giving him that.

Before he could protest though, you stuck out your tongue and winked at him. Leaving him on his own devices as you were escorted by the servant to the place you truly hoped not to visit today.

Even from afar, you can already hear your grandmother's feeble voice from old age. Yet, you know that despite the soft sounds, she's far from tender.

"Here I thought I'll meet my death bed first before you finally show up here." She said with eyes-closed while sipping her tea.

Trying not to roll your eyes, you smiled at the servant and dismissed her. You gave your mother a smile before you sat down beside her.

Servants who were standing closed immediately placed a cup and saucer in front of you. They also filled the table with new biscuits and sweets.

"Well, I guess my timing's not that impeccable because I would have waited more just to see that." The servant who was filling up your tea almost let go of the teapot from shock on what she heard. But as she was a highly trained servant from the palace, she composed herself right away and bowed once she finished her task.

Meanwhile, your mother let out a cough and a choked sound of surprise before deciding to dismiss the servants fully and avoid any more witness from your family banter.

"I can't believe you call yourself a lady with that manners." Once all the servants were dismissed, your grandmother spoked again.

"Apologies, mother. I will make sure to teach her the proper decorum again later." Your mother gave you an eye and you just rolled your eyes at her.

"Not my granddaughter. She's perfect as is. I meant you. Who would have choked on her own tea?" Her feeble voice cracked from hoarseness as she raised her voice, scolding your mother.

A knowing look was passed between you and your mother as she gaped at your grandmother from shock.

If you do not respect your mother, you would have said I told you so.

"Anyway, enough lessons about etiquette. How was the life of being a wife, my favorite grandchild." Even without a mirror, you can see your face twitched from annoyance.

This old hag was indeed testing your patience. It has been a year since your wedding. You'll understand if she did not come to your wedding due to an official business. However, all those times, she was sitting on her favorite chair, sipping her warm tea, inside her chambers in Highgarden.

"It was well, until you decided to come here and ruin it for me." At this point, your mother feigned ignorance and continued with her afternoon tea. She's smarter now as she realized that your grandmother came here for you with an agenda. You're trying to decipher what it was. Yet, you have a feeling you know it already.

"If that was true then, when are you going to give me my grandchildren? Are you impotent? Because I believed based on stories inside these walls, your lord husband made your legs wobble on several occasions. I can only assume that problem was you." The cutlery rang when you put your cup down full of anger from her statement.

It wasn't as if you did not want a child either but no matter how much you did it with Aemond throughout that year, you were still not blessed with a baby. Your husband, the ever sweet partner, assured you that it was fine. Some couples had the hardest time having children and there was no rush.

The insult stings, especially, since it was your family who mentioned it.

"If that was the reason for your visit then I'd rather spent more time doing it with my husband than wasting my time here talking to a wrinkled old thorn." You were about to leave your seat when suddenly, your grandmother grabbed your arm and pulled you back down.

"Oh dear. Your patience was still shorter than my lifespan. Sit back down and let this wrinkled old thorn finish what she was trying to discuss." Still fuming, you followed her but crossed your arms in defiance as you stared straightly in her eyes.

"Well, I would not even agree that you were impotent as our family were known to have no problems with giving birth compared to the Targaryen. But still, answer my question truthfully.

.

.

.

.

.

When you're doing it, have you tried using your mouth and licking the tip while massaging his balls so he'll enjoy it. In my time, ladies let their husbands cum first and that method was certain to make them pregnant after a month." Your mother who was quietly listening to your discussion was left coughing violently at your grandmother's shameless words in broad daylight. The tea she was holding splashed everywhere as she tried to compose herself.

To help her calm down, you put your hand soothingly on her back. Your face red with shame as your grandmother continued her obscenities and the advice for the right position to get pregnant next time.

When she realized that you and your mother gave her silence as she told you what must be done, she looked in your direction and raised her eyebrow at your reddened looks.

"Ha! I do not understand why the two of you act as if you did not know what I am saying. Stop pretending to be prim and proper! A man can do and tries everything when he's fucking every lady on these realm but a lady had a chance to only do it with once with one man on her lifetime. Enough with this nonsense and do me a favor and use this." You almost backed away when she suddenly stood up and placed a bag inside your hands. The bag emits a strong sweet smell you've never smelled before.

"What is this?"

"An aphrodisiac."

As if your skin was burnt by the bag, you immediately throw it on the table and stay as far away from it as possible.

"Have your old brain finally given up?" You yelled at your grandmother. Fingers pointing at her accusingly. You can feel the hotness run from your face to your ears and you know that you looked just like an apple from how red you were.

"Oh hush now. Me and your grandfather used to add that to our tea and it always ended up with a child so that product's safe from testing. Not that we need it much but the feeling we have after using it was something I missed so much. Believe me, it will just help your body relax and be more sensitive from your partner's touches compared to other aphrodisiacs." The disgust you felt when you saw her close her eyes and shudder from remembering what she did with your grandfather were so immense you felt all the hair in your body rise.

"Oh gods. My dear ears." On the other hand, your mother's laments as she tries to console her ears and head from what she heard today.

A sudden knock made you jump from where you were standing and you three looked at the door and waited for the announcement of whoever was on the other side.

"Lady Tyrell, his grace, the prince Aemond Targaryen is here to see you."

"Let him in. Let me see my grandson-in-law." Before you can react, your grandmother smiled wickedly at you and announced to let your husband in.

Panicked, you grabbed the bag and put it inside your dress, where a hidden pocket was made.

Your husband came in with a warm smile but frowned when he saw your pale face and rigid body as you stood near a chair.

He titled his head at you in silent question about what happened when your grandmother opens her mouth to greet him.

"If this wasn't the infamous one-eyed prince who was able to tame the biggest dragon at such a young age." A toothy grin was plastered on her face and she walked towards your husband. She opened her arms and hugged him tightly. She also patted him loudly and the gesture confuses your husband but let her do it.

"Hmmm... I know now why my granddaughter is protective of you. I will surely climb you if I am a little bit younger."

The world stopped as you tried to understand what your grandmother said to your dear husband.

You were just glad that your husband did not skip his etiquette classes as he was able to compose himself right away and gave a proper answer from that obscene remark.

"You flatter me, Lady Thorn." He replied with a smile.

Your grandmother chuckled at that and decided to walk back in her seat. But when she passed your way, she whispered something that only your ears can hear.

"If you do not pull him away from this place, I will make sure to make his ears bleed." You looked at her incredulously as she sat back down with a soft look on her face.

Blinking, you looked at your mother, who was still red, and looked back at your husband who was staring at your mouth agaped expression then back to your grandmother, who ordered another servant to bring another warm tea like normal. As if she did not just whisper the most absurd order you've heard.

Without further ado, you stride towards your husband with a purpose and grab his arm away from the chamber.

"Make sure to use my gift tonight, my favorite grandchild." Your grandmother reminded you with a wink.

All you were able to say was a loud groan and you stomped away dragging your husband with you.

"What was that?" He asked. Obviously confused with your manners.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Looking at your husband's face, your thoughts immediately come back from the nights he kisses your skin and presses himself closer to you. Thanks to your grandmother's scheme.

Stepping backwards farther in his direction, you stride and start running away.

He called your name many times but you can't look back as you slapped both of your cheeks from embarrassment.

How could you feel so turned on in the middle of the corridors just from staring at him. You groaned as you felt your core slicken from just the thoughts of him.

With a scream, you look at the clear sky with determination.

You will prove to your grandmother that you do not need that tea to enjoy your husband's company and bear his child!

~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back inside the room, Lady Tyrell cleared her throat and finally opened her mouth to talk to Lady Thorn.

"Do you truly need to edge her that way? I believe they're doing their best."

"Then, their best was not enough. With that type of husband, I can't believe she was having a hard time having a child. All she needed was a little push. I know it." The old lady smiled to herself and sighed as she looked outside and witnessed the beauty of spring.

She was sure that this will be a fruitful year for the Highgarden.

Plz reblog this if you ship ichiruki on your blog and want to associate with other ichruki fans !

Let this post be a guide to those searching for ichiruki content without fear of cross tagging !

I in love with this story. I almost started crying from the feels!!! This is one of the best Dragneel brothers story's I have ever read!!! You aren't awesome writer keep up the good work!!!!!

It’s a Dragneel Thing

AN: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HALI!  proudtobeaginger is my lovely internet daughter and I hope you had a fantastic birthday.  

Summary: Dragneel brothers will do the stupidest things for each other and their girl problems.  High school AU.  Oneshot.  *Spoilers if you haven’t read the manga!*  Also found here.

“So, will you be going to the Winter Formal, Natsu?”

           Zeref may have been the most unpopular, “emo”, romantically-crippled outcast in the entire Magnolia Academy, but even he could recognize a “please ask me to the dance” hint when he heard one.

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