okay but has anyone ever thought about Daemon and Rhea's secret lovechild being completely neglected??????
like yeah, I’ve read those fics where Daemon and Rhea hate each other but somehow end up having drunk, angry sex and boom—child. and the baby ends up being this tragic little darling everyone loves. not complaining! but also… what if Rhea hated the child? like truly, viscerally hated them. saw them as a living mistake. a consequence. and did everything in her power to hide them from the world?
she doesn’t claim them. doesn’t name them. she lets a cousin do that part, like she can’t even look at the child. she’s so disgusted she fobs off the early years to a trusted few, cuts out tongues to keep things quiet, literally kills people post-birth to tie up loose ends. she vanishes for a year. and when she comes back, it’s like nothing happened. the child is kept hidden, covered head-to-toe. not for protection. for shame.
Rhea doesn’t care that it’s a crime to hide a noble child. she just hates Daemon that much. she would rather die than have him know.
and then… she dies.
she dies. falls from her horse, apparently. Daemon returns, acting all slick, trying to claim Runestone for himself. but he doesn’t know. he still doesn’t know there’s a child. not yet.
only months after remarrying (first Laena, then Rhaenyra), he finally hears whispers of this kid. and what does he do? he goes back to the Vale to collect them. claim them. like they're some object he left behind.
and the child? the child goes. not because they trust him. not because they care. but because they’ve never been claimed by anyone. never been wanted. not by Rhea. not by Daemon. not by the court. so when someone finally says “you’re mine,” even if it’s him, they go.
but the tragedy doesn't end there.
because the child—let’s say they’re a girl for flavor, but any gender works—she’s still not accepted. she’s still not acknowledged. not by the Targaryens. not by the Royces. not by history. her parents’ marriage was the poster child for loveless, childless disaster. no one remembers a baby. they only remember the fall. and that Daemon didn’t mourn her.
❝ No man remembers Rhea for bearing Daemon a child. They only remember she fell from her horse, and that he didn’t mourn her. ❞
in Westeros, blood isn’t enough. legitimacy isn’t biology. it’s acknowledgement. and this kid? she got none of that.
the child was hidden away.
the father never named her.
the mother didn’t raise her.
the court pretends she doesn’t exist. because they literally didn't know.
so even though she’s not a bastard by law, she feels like one. the whispers follow her everywhere.
❝ A lie wrapped in silver curls and Royce steel—no more Targaryen than a falcon is a dragon. ❞
and to make it worse:
The Targaryens don’t, rather didn't claim her.
Daemon moves on. builds new families. leaves her in the shadow of them all.
no name.
no dragon.
no place.
she’s not just forgotten—she’s erased.
and yet.
her existence is dangerous.
because if Daemon had claimed her early, she could’ve inherited the Vale.
maybe even gotten pulled into succession debates.
but because she’s in this weird grey area—too noble to be ignored, too scandalous to be accepted—she becomes a liability. a complication.
I kind of miss the impulsivity that certain spaces used to allow. oh you want a hair cut today? hairdresser in the corner can fit you in before her 2 o’clock. tattoo of a cobra… sure leg or arm? even concerts, back when you could go to the box office thirty mins before any show. not saying these things don’t exist at all, but everything feels booked five months in advance and 10x more expensive
synopsis. you're ripped from him. he takes you right back.
content. gojo satoru x male!reader. angst. canon-typical violence, gore and horror elements. major character death. curse!reader. some swearing. excessive use of em-dash because i love it and i refuse to let ai have it.
wc. 6.2k
message from noe. requested by @corsped-groom. i purposefully left curse!reader's design vague so you can imagine him however you want, but i was picture something like the xenomorph, the unknown from dbd, or the lickers from resident evil. anyway. this one is depressing af. blame it on the song of achilles. finally read that book and i feel like it shows a little bit in the style of writing in this one. don't read it if you value your happiness... although who am i kidding. we're jjk fans. we don't value our happiness.
The smell in the alley is the first red flag.
Metallic. Sticky like honey on the roof of his mouth. He welcomes like the old friend it is.
Blood. What else was it gonna be?
Satoru steps forward, slipping in the darkness. Not familiar — he’s got no need for stealth, usually, he’s too efficient for that. His style’s more ‘Now you see me, now you’re dead.’ But there’s no streetlights in the alley, so in the darkness he goes, eyes and ears wide open.
No traces of cursed energy except yours, so faint it must be only residuals. So you were here. It’s a start.
A big bunch of nothing, a sullen voice in the back of his head says.
A start, another, more reasonable one counters. It sounds like you. We can follow residuals. We can find him.
There’s a third voice. Louder than any other, so loud that it’s getting real hard to ignore.
It’s been too long. It’s been a few hours at most. Still too long. He would’ve never taken so long to return. He would’ve come back to lick his wounds. He would’ve called for help if he’d needed it. It’s been too long.
Satoru knows you inside out, by now. All your quirks and little habits. Like how you bite your cheek when you’re focusing on something. How you never sleep on your back because you’re scared shitless of sleep paralysis. How you make it a point to keep him in the loop when you go on missions, because you know he gets nervous when he doesn’t hear from you for too long.
It’s been too long.
There’s something in this alley. Something that makes his hair stand on end, an unpleasantly familiar shiver down his spine. Something that he’s missing, but he can’t tell what it is just yet.
Something’s wrong. No visible threat for now, but he’s learned his lesson when it comes to things he can’t see — learned it the hard way. Something’s wrong.
It’s been too long.
A moist sound. Soft and sticky under the sole of his shoe — the blood that’s been stinking up the alley. A lot of it, from what he can tell.
There’s a shape just ahead. Barely distinguishable in the darkness, but there. His mind assesses, quick as a whip. Unmoving. No immediate threat. He steps closer.
It’s a body.
𖦹
Humans are just meat that talks.
That’s what Satoru tells himself, when he looks down at the body laid before him. The girl was once a bright, living thing, full of hopes and promise. Now she’s a lump of meat on cold metal. She’s not the first or the last, and the casualness with which her body’s treated in the morgue is a painful reminder. It raises his hackles.
Add this one to the pile, right?
You knew her; he did not. You stand over her together anyway, both looking at her face silently.
You were the one who retrieved her body. For the occasion, Shoko allowed you to smoke inside. You’ve already smoked two in the hallway. You light the third one over her.
“Do we know if she had any family?” You ask quietly. As if afraid to disturb her rest.
Shoko takes a second to answer. Lights her own cigarette, pockets the lighter. Takes a deep drag.
“What was her name again?” She eventually says.
“Yumeko,” you reply. You take a drag. Shoko takes a drag. Those things will kill you, Satoru wants to joke. But you look a little too sad for that, right now. “Sawai.”
“Sawai Yumeko…” Shoko turns in her seat to type at her computer. “Found her dad. Should I leave you the honors?”
“Fuck no.”
No one says anything for a while after that. Shoko sighs, puts out her cigarette, and steps out.
“So, how’d this happen?” Satoru finally asks. His tongue was getting itchy.
“The intel was wrong.” You sound weary, but not surprised. He isn’t, either. This is commonplace. “It wasn’t a cluster of Grade Threes, it was a Grade One.”
A job for him. Or for you. But not for Yumeko. Poor kid.
Another moment of silence. Satoru’s never known what to say in those situations. Pretty ironic, considering he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut most of the time. Or is it fitting? Gojo Satoru, the guy who can’t come through when it actually matters.
He threads his fingers through yours and pulls you away from the table. Away from the body and the smell of formaldehyde. You put out your smoke as you walk out.
He knows what you’re thinking — he’s thinking it, too. How many more will have to die because the people on high can’t be bothered to do their fucking job right?
“You think they knew?” you ask when you’ve stepped outside.
He hasn’t let go of your hand. It’s starting to feel like he never will. “Oh, yeah. They knew.”
And they sent Yumeko to her death anyway. Add this one to the pile.
You won’t let go of this. Neither will he. It’ll fester and keep festering.
𖦹
He doesn’t recognize the body — it’s a relief until it isn’t. Intel said one curse user, one, and you don’t deviate from your mission. Ever.
It’s not pretty. You did a number on the guy, almost savage in the violence you’ve inflicted. Like a cornered predator that lashed out. Your residuals are all over him.
You would’ve wiped them if the job had gone right. Wouldn’t have left him in such a state in the first place.
There’s two more bodies— no, three. One is collapsed in a heap just two paces ahead in a similar pool of blood. The second is to Satoru’s right, flat on his back. This one, he recognizes. The curse user you were after. A gun rests loosely in his palm, coated in dark, flaky blood. The simple sight makes him shiver, brings back memories he’d really, really like to keep buried.
The third one is farther. Hunched against the wall, head hanging limp. Covered in blood, like the others.
Dead like the others, but different. Satoru feels it immediately. Your residuals are clustered there.
He ignores the alarm bells in the back of his head, the instinct screaming at him that this is wrong, wrong, there’s something wrong about that body—
He can see the fatal wound. An entry, on what was the temple, probably caused by a bullet. Might be an exit, too. Might not. Either way, it’s not nice to look at.
These kinds of wounds are ugly on anyone, but here it’s a whole other story.
His stomach turns. The world tilts on its axis, the ground drops from under his feet— that face, that body, it’s—
His brain simply refuses to process the information, at first. Can’t connect the dots between this lifeless lump of meat before his eyes and… and…
𖦹
“It’ll be easy. One and done. I’ll be home for dinner.”
Satoru hums skeptically, burrowing his face at the junction between your neck and shoulder. The gentle morning sun warms his back, feather light like the touch you ran up his spine to pull him from sleep.
At first he didn’t understand why you woke him early just to lounge in bed, doing nothing. Not like he dislikes doing nothing with you, the opposite really. Still, a couple of extra hours of unconsciousness before facing the world would’ve been nice. He woke up disgruntled, but settled quickly, warm and mellow with the sun and your arms around him.
It makes sense about an hour of lazing around in. When you break the news to him in the softest voice you can muster, caressing his cheek with your knuckles.
Emergency in Kyoto. Experienced sorcerer needed for a curse user hunt.
They could’ve called literally anyone. But no. They called you. It feels intentional. It’s probably intentional. You’ve been a little too open and vocal about your dislike for the higher-ups, lately — they can’t have that.
It was supposed to be just the two of you today. No interruptions, no obligations, just you and him and him and you, Netflix and chill both literal and figurative. Displeased, Satoru rolls over to his side, turning his back to you. It gets cold when he rolls into the shadow, when your arms slip from his waist.
He should’ve expected it, honestly. No, really, because after all why would he have been able to have a nice, relaxing day with his man? He can’t have nice things. Ever.
You don’t leave him in the cold for too long. You chase, shifting to press against his back, eager to leave no space at all between him and you. It makes him feel better. A little. Your arm wraps around his shoulder and you reach up to poke his cheek playfully.
“C’mon, babydoll,” you purr in his ear. Bastard. You know exactly what you’re doing. “Don’t be mad. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Hm.”
You chuckle, squeezing his cheek to force his lips into a deeper pout. “Swear. You won’t even realize I’m gone.”
“Whatever.” Satoru rolls his eyes, pushing your hand off his face. He stays silent for a moment. Then, “I just think it’s funny how you’re needed for a sudden emergency on our first day off together in, like, two months.”
You exhale a little sigh through your nose, softening. The teasing urge falls away as you press a kiss on his nape.
“Yeah,” you say lowly. “I know.”
“For each you see, there’s ten that you don’t. You know, like cockroaches. It starts with one and ends up with you gone three weeks trying to take down the whole shtick.”
“I know, Satoru,” you say again. Sharper.
He turns to brace himself on his forearms, narrowing his eyes at you. “What, ‘m I not allowed to be pissed?”
“You’re allowed to be pissed.” You roll to your back, running a hand down your face with a long-suffering sigh. “Just… please.”
Right. No, you’re right. He shouldn’t get pissy with you for something that’s completely out of your hands, especially when you’re clearly just as pissed. Even worse, because you just wanna enjoy the time you have left with him before you go. He’s horrible.
He settles back down, head nestled against your shoulder and a hand braced on your chest. He pats you gently to calm you down.
“We should go out tonight,” he murmurs to make amends. “When you get back. Himawari Ramen?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” You lean down to kiss the crown of his head, and Satoru melts into you once more, closing his eyes. “Just what I need.”
You stay like that for a moment, basking in each other’s warmth. The morning sun warms his back.
Eventually, you have to get up. He feels you shift him off you, already half-asleep. Your lips kiss his cheek and your voice says: “Love you.”
𖦹
Most sorcerers don’t have the luxury of experiencing the five stages of grief. There’s too much death happening all the time, civilians and coworkers alike. If you want to live, you accept the death and you move on. Or at least you grieve in silence and keep doing your damn job.
It’s true for Satoru as much as anyone else. He’s been affected by deaths before, sure, felt sorry for the victim or angry that another life was snuffed unnecessarily. He’s been moved. Grieved? He’s only done that once. He’s a grief-virgin in that sense.
But of course, in his world no one is spared. He just hadn’t expected it to hit immediately.
Denial comes first.
First, his brain’s refusal to process the information it’s receiving. Your face damaged and covered in blood, the sheer wrongness of the bullet hole deforming your head grotesquely. Then, his mind’s inability to face the truth.
It can’t be. It just can’t. There’s… there’s no way, right? No way.
You said you’d be home for dinner. You said you’d be back before he knew it. You said you wanted to go out for some ramen. There’s no way you’re just… what you’ve been reduced to, what he’s seeing, it’s…
Just meat that used to talk.
He stays frozen, fingers trembling, eyes bouncing all over your body in a desperate search for life. He finds nothing, nothing but residuals of your cursed energy on your clothes, and your immediate surroundings. That can’t be, there’s no way, there’s no fucking way, there has to be something, anything.
He can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. This can’t be real. This is a nightmare. Just a nightmare, and he’s gonna wake up. And you’re gonna kiss it better, hug him and tell him you love him, and you’ll go out for ramen together and it’ll be just fine. He’ll forget about the nightmare eventually and… and…
He can’t bear to look away, but each new detail only serves to hurt him further. There’s more than just the bullet wound on your skull. Your knee is busted, there’s a dark stain on your side, one of your hands is missing—
The sight of you is gnarly, cruel in its honesty. This morning you were warm and soft. This morning you told him you loved him. Now you’re a fucking corpse left to rot in a dirty Kyoto alleyway.
Denial clings, still. Because there’s no way three lowly curse users did this to you, there’s just no way. The state you’re in, and the state you left them in — how could this happen?
His thinking becomes practical. He can’t stand to think of you as a person for too long, he needs to think about something else, needs to think about what he can do to… to fix this? Find the people responsible? He doesn’t know.
He scans the alleyway, looking for tracks, residuals that he missed, anything. He comes up empty. Either there were others responsible and they covered their tracks remarkably well, or… or maybe it’s just those three curse users.
Denial falls away and anger takes its place. Not at the people that killed you. At you directly.
How could you let this happen? You’re better than this. You’re stronger than those three curse users combined, you’re— how could you let this happen? What the hell were you even doing, to get jumped and torn apart like that? Were you admiring the view or something? Petting a stray cat? What the fuck is your problem? You were supposed to be home by dinner. You were supposed to go out for ramen with him. You swore you would. Did that mean nothing to you? Is that just the kind of guy you are — the kind that breaks his promises like that, like they’re nothing?
He feels guilty, but he also doesn’t. He means it. At least, part of him means it, all of it.
The thoughts don’t last. He’s angry because he wants you back. Nothing more than that.
He crouches beside you. The hand you have left is also spotted with blood. Do you simply have no clean skin left? He brushes your hand with his fingers all the same, wondering what the hell he did to deserve this.
Isn’t he good? Isn’t he always doing the right thing? He tries and tries and tries, he gives it all he has and what is he given in return? Resentment and adoration in equal measure. One blessing that gets torn away.
He calls your name, voice surprisingly steady.
He just wants you back. Isn’t that normal? He’d do anything to have you back. Just come back.
“Get up right now.”
You don’t move. Obviously. What does he need to do to have you back? He’ll do it. Whatever he has left to give, he’ll give it. Anything. Anything.
I love you. I love you. Please get up.
Stubbornly, you remain still, as corpses tend to be.
Please. Please. Get up. Just get up and come home.
He’s not sure how long he stays there, staring at your fingers.
Please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. You’re all I have. I love you. You can’t die. Please don’t die.
Hoping they’ll twitch.
Don’t leave me. I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me.
Silently begging.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me. I love you. I love you. I—
At some point, he stands. He can’t leave you like this.
He reaches for his phone and calls the first person who’d be any help.
Ijichi’s voice is sharp and alert, even in the middle of the night. Up writing reports. Probably Satoru’s. Who fucking cares.
“G-gojo-san? It’s… it’s midnight—”
“Sent you my location.” He sounds so steady. So calm. Who even is he right now? “Call the Kyoto school and have them send a clean-up crew.”
“A-a clean-up crew? Why—”
Satoru hangs up. He doesn’t care to hear whatever Ijichi has to say. That call took all his energy. He feels drained, heavy. He needs to get out of here.
His feet stay glued to the ground.
He can’t leave you like this. He should wait for clean-up. Or maybe he should just… take your body himself. He doesn’t trust anyone to handle you right.
A sound in the alley tears him from his deliberating.
Sharp and wet, like a bone snapping. He hears it once. Twice. Then, just as he turns to see what the fuck is going on behind him—
Your body’s no longer collapsed against the wall. You’re standing, but…
He sees the wrongness of it immediately. It kills any hope that tried to flare in his chest, snuffs out the remaining light he had in him.
Your head is limp on your chest, still. It’s not like you’re standing; more like your body’s being held up on strings, like a puppet. All at once you drop to the ground in a heap, but something remains.
A dark shape, almost a silhouette. Darker than darkness, thick as blood, quiet like it’s not even there. Pure curse energy, he realizes instantly. Cursed spirit. Goosebumps run down the back of his neck, his mind assesses, quick as a whip—
Threat. Imminent threat.
He takes half a step back, ready to exorcise the curse, but— but then the weirdest thing—
“Satoru…”
It’s your voice, but it’s not. It’s wrong, off, distorted in the slightest way. A shiver runs down his back. It’s wrong. So wrong. It’s not you. It’s not you.
Except it is. It is you.
The curse lowers to the ground, slithers closer— he should do something, he should exorcise it, he should do anything other than just fucking stand there—
“Satoru, don’t go…”
He’s gonna throw up.
You push closer, blood and goo dripping from your still forming arms. You get close enough to touch him.
Your hand grabs his ankle, and his entire body tenses in revulsion. It’s cold, it’s holding him too tightly, it just feels wrong, but…
But it also feels like you. It’s still you. Isn’t it?
“Don’t go. Satoru, don’t go. Satoru, I love you...”
Satoru’s stomach lurches violently and he does the first thing he can think of: he slams his palms together and teleports the fuck away.
He lands hard on a wooden floor, tumbling to his knees immediately. He’s not sure where he is, can’t tell because the world just won’t stop spinning — it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s far, very far from that alley. Far from the bodies. Your body.
Your body.
He throws up everything his stomach has to give, shivering violently. Then, he simply rolls to his back and pants. Stares at the ceiling until the dizziness fades. Maybe it takes minutes, maybe a few hours. He simply can’t tell.
His vision evens out — his breathing doesn’t. At last he realizes where he is.
His apartment. In Tokyo. The one he shares with you.
He curls into a ball, trembling all over. Paralyzed with fear.
What did he do? What the fuck did he do to you?
𖦹
The next couple of days pass by in a blur. Satoru floats through the hours, like a passenger in his own body.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he pulls some strings and gets his hands on the report from the Kyoto crew. Reads it, again and again and again. To the point where he has it memorized. Masochism in its purest form.
Every building in an fifty-meter radius around the alley was reduced to rubble. Three civilians dead. Fifty-two injured, including thirteen in critical condition. The Kyoto sorcerers didn’t retrieve the bodies of the curse users — report states there “wasn’t enough left to retrieve.”
They found you, though. Brought you back to Tokyo.
Shoko covered your body with a thin, white sheet after the autopsy. She left him alone in the morgue, to take a breather, let him figure out what he wants to do with you.
Burn the body, don’t burn the body. In the end, it’s all the same to him. What’s this lump of meat good for? It’s not you. Just another corpse he can add to the pile.
You haven’t manifested since that first time. He can’t feel your cursed energy, and he can’t figure out why. It’s not like curses just vanish into thin air.
He can’t track you, and it makes him anxious. He can’t have you killing any more people, and if he can’t control you...
Better not to think about it. He’s great at avoiding tough topics, even in his own head.
Slowly, he reaches out. The sheet is thin, smooth to the touch.
The autopsy table’s sent flying before he has time to react.
Shit.
Satoru covers his head with his arm as you fly past him. The autopsy table hits the wall with a metallic clang!, and you grab your body midair, slamming it into the wall. Hard. Again and again and again, screeching in fury.
You’re fully manifested. On school grounds. You could not have had worse timing.
“Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue!”
You’re ripped away and sent flying to the other end of the room. You slam against the wall and crawl up to the ceiling, snarling at him. You almost sound offended.
“Whatever!” Satoru shouts back.
You try to jump past him again, but he’s ready this time, and he extends Infinity’s reach to push you back. With another indignant screech, you scuttle back up to the ceiling, pacing around like a caged tiger.
Shoko chooses that exact moment to burst into the room. Positively incredible timing on her part, too.
“Gojo, what is—”
She catches your attention, and your head snaps to her. He sees you bunch together to pounce and skids in front of her.
“No!” He points a finger at you menacingly, and crazily, it’s enough to make you back down. Like you’re a misbehaving puppy and not a seven-foot tall bloodthirsty Special Grade.
Because that’s what you are. He can tell, now that you’re fully manifested. Special Grade. His doing.
“No,” he repeats, low and firm. Great. Now he’s scolding you like you’re a pet. He’s lost it.
Behind him, Shoko clears her throat. Satoru turns halfway, to face her and still keep you in sight.
“Uh... I can explain?”
She gives him a sharp look. “You sure?”
She looks up to the ceiling. You’re pacing again, losing interest in the situation but restless with buzzing energy. Yeah, okay. He can see why she’s skeptical. Satoru rubs the back of his neck, feeling overwhelmed.
“I’m, uh. Maybe sit down?”
“I’ll stand.” Shoko reaches in her white coat’s pocket for her pack and a lighter. She stays silent for a moment. Takes the time to light her cigarette, take a drag. “...It’s him, isn’t it?”
Satoru doesn’t answer immediately. It’s one thing to know what he did — what he did to you. It’s another to have someone else say it. Be a witness to it.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it’s him.”
They both look at you, pacing around on the ceiling, looking almost harmless in the cold light.
“I’m not gonna ask what happened,” Shoko says.
Of course she isn’t. She already knows. She’s had your body on the table, and looking at you now, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. A curse as powerful as that? Yeah. Doesn’t take a genius.
Satoru almost thanks her for it. He’s not ready to admit it just yet. That he’s the one he put you in that state. That he’s the one who condemned you to such an existence.
“What are you gonna do?” Shoko continues.
The merciful thing would be to exorcize you, wouldn’t it? Or at least find a way to undo what he did. Let you rest in some way.
“...I dunno,” he replies, defeated.
Shoko looks around the room. Her overturned desk, the computer and files scattered on the floor. The blood you’ve left over the wall and the ceiling. And on the other side, the bloody mess against the white tile. “At least he listens to you, right?” She lets out, dry and dead.
Satoru follows her gazes. He crosses the room to inspect the damage.
There’s not much to look at. You haven’t left much of your body for him to scoop up. Guess he’s burning you after all.
He turns to look at you. “Why’d you go and do that, huh?”
You pause in your movements. Your head snaps towards him, with a crack, almost like you snapped your own neck to look at him faster.
“You were scared,” you say lowly. He can feel your voice in his chest, like a purr. “And sad. Angry.”
It stuns him for a moment. The tunnel vision you have when it comes to him.
You didn’t even recognize your own dead body. You just saw it as a threat to him.
“Well,” Shoko sighs. “Shit.”
Yeah. Satoru couldn’t have said it better.
𖦹
Another week passes without you ever manifesting. Satoru’s life goes on as normal as it can. He goes through the motions mechanically, like he did before. Only now he has no one to talk to. No one to curl up against at night. No one to brush his teeth with. He feels less and less like a person each day. Like he only existed because you were there to perceive him.
It’s the opposite now, he supposes.
At first he couldn’t figure out how you did it, simply disappearing into thin air at will. He thought you had to go somewhere. A curse like you would be attached to an object, something of significance to you while you were alive. He combed through your stuff about a thousand times, looking for the thing.
It’s nothing of yours. It’s his apartment key. The one you offered to him about six months into your relationship, just after you bought the place.
“In case you need a place to crash,” you’d said. In case you need a place to get away, was what you really meant.
It started as an occasional thing. He’d pop up for a night. Sometimes two. Then he started staying over after every date. Then he started leaving his things there. At some point he couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone to his place on the Jujutsu Tech campus.
He still hasn’t gone back to that place. The key sits untouched in his pocket. Your cursed energy is there, dormant; he couldn’t feel it because it’s too intertwined with his. He’s part of you. You’re part of him.
He barely sleeps these days, even less than before. He lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. He wonders what he’s gonna do with you.
Really, he’s just going in circles. He knows what he should do. He knows the practical, logical answer. You’re a curse. His job’s to eradicate curses. There’s only one way this can go.
But this is different. Isn’t it? You weren’t always like this, he’s the reason you’re like this. He should find a way to free you. Undo the curse. Let go of you.
Besides, doesn’t he owe it to you, who he claims to love? Shouldn’t he be merciful to the man he loves?
But Satoru’s never been merciful. Not once in his life. And he’s not about to start now, is he? Not even for you. Not when love is the whole reason you’re still here in the first place.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I love you.
Who’s the real monster here, you or him?
“Satoru...”
You sensed his distress, likely, and now you’re here to protect him. Funny. He’s the scariest thing in the country.
Satoru pushes himself up to a sit, keeping his back to you. He lowers his Infinity, still. Eager to feel your touch. Your hand slips up his arm, to squeeze his shoulder. You did that when you were alive. To comfort him, without overwhelming him. Is it muscle memory? The idea that you may still be as considerate now as you were then makes him want to throw up.
“You can go back,” he murmurs. “There’s nothing here, Y/N.”
Your hand moves to the back of his neck. Your claws graze the sensitive skin. He feels the sting. You cut him.
“There’s you,” you reply.
Is it because you understand that he’s his own worst enemy right now, or did you just want to see him? He couldn’t make sense of you before — great to see he still can’t. He thought curses were simple creatures. Easy to read, easy to predict. It’s always been easy for him.
Maybe you’re just hell bent on turning the world upside down for him.
“Why don’t you come back when I’m in actual danger?”
He meant it as a tease — you haven’t shown up once while he was fighting curses, though he thought you’d be eager to help him. But you take it seriously.
“You’re never in danger,” you say accusingly. “How would I see you?”
Satoru turns to face you. “It was a joke. Jeez, don’t you curses have a sense of—”
Your grip turns harsh, and you push him to his back, pinning him. Familiar, and not.
“You just don’t want to see me!” Your voice changes, becomes less human and more other. “Just admit it!”
“I’m not playing this game with you,” Satoru grits out, struggling against your grip. It’s instinct. Curse nearby equals danger.
“You said you loved me!”
“I do!”
And just like that, you calm down as quickly as you got angry. Your grip loosens, it’s less punishing. Almost tender. Satoru’s not sure why he still hasn’t shoved you off.
“I do,” he breathes. “Of course I do.”
You lean over him, pleased. Your tongue lolls out, far longer than a human’s. It slides over his jaw, up to his ear and back to his face, to run over his lips. Satoru reaches up to grab your head and turn it away. He turns his face in the other direction, almost coy. His chest is heaving.
You push his hand off you easily and return to him. Slower, like you’re afraid to spook him. As if. You’re far from the scariest thing he’s ever seen.
You lean down and kiss him, as well as you can with that mouth full of teeth. You bite at his lips, push your tongue in his mouth. He welcomes you eagerly. He doesn’t care that he’s bleeding. He has you again. His heart is racing.
𖦹
He found the curse users that killed you.
Not the perpetrators themselves, of course, you took care of them yourself. But he tracked down the organization they belonged to.
Because there is an organization. He was right, in the end. If you hadn’t died, you’d still be in Kyoto, chipping away at it to get to the core. Far, far away from him. Maybe what happened was for the best.
The building’s deceptively mundane. Three stories, all grey concrete and big, modern glass windows. Gleaming under the setting sun. Fits the surroundings: the more modern part of Kyoto, downtown. Easily glossed over. Easily forgotten.
Technically, Satoru’s off duty right now. But a guy’s allowed to have hobbies, right? It might be a little revenge trip for him, but at the end of the day, it’s about thirty less curse users that Jujutsu society has to worry about. A win-win.
He lowers a veil, because he’s not a complete maniac. Waltzes in like he owns the place. They didn’t even put up a barrier, choosing stealth over protection. Big mistake.
The lobby’s empty.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, clutching his key in his pocket. “You wanna come out? Have some fun with me?”
This time you answer immediately. The pressure of your presence is crushing, even for him — the curse users are bound to come running.
You prowl on all fours, rubbing against him affectionately. “Yes, Satoru?”
“You wanna help me clear out this place?”
You face contorts. You’re trying to smile.
“Okay!” You let out cheerfully.
Satoru catches movement in the corner of his eye. The curse users are starting to spill in. Two, three, four. They see him — see you — and step back warily, arms and weapons raised in self-defense.
Good, he thinks, suddenly thirsty for blood. You should be fucking scared.
Seven. Eight. Nine. They keep coming. He sees you bunch together, prepared to pounce. Anticipation buzzes under his skin.
“It’s Gojo Satoru!” One of them shouts. “Fall ba—”
He never finishes his sentence, because in an instant you’ve leaped and ripped his head off.
It’s a slaughter, to put it plainly. It’s his first time seeing you like this, feral and hungry and horrifying in so many ways. Not so different from when you were alive. Not so different from him.
He doesn’t step in. Doesn’t intervene once. He lets you have your revenge, lets you bite and tear and rip, lets you prowl through the building to find the rest of them.
Doesn’t let a single one of them touch you. Not like they’d ever come close to exorcizing you, anyway. You overwhelm them as well as he would’ve.
The walls are slick with blood, by the time you’ve killed the last one. You are, too. You prance back to him almost happily, crawling all over the walls and the ceiling. You even bring him back an arm, like a cat showing off its hunting prize. His heart is racing.
He doesn’t call clean-up when he lowers the veil and leaves. They can fucking rot.
𖦹
TWO YEARS LATER.
After swallowing a corpse’s mummified finger and a high school principal’s handmade doll coming to life, Yuji was convinced he’d seen the weirdest jujutsu had to offer. Monsters are real and they kill people, and he can do something about it? Okay, cool. He can do that. How weirder could it get?
Clearly, much weirder. Gojo-sensei’s full of surprises.
The first years’ first official training session as a class starts out nothing out of the ordinary. Some warm-up. Then, taking turns sparring against each other. Yuji’s in the middle of beating up Fushiguro when Gojo steps on the field, waving cheerfully.
“Hey everyone! How’s it going?”
Yuji waves back, just as enthusiastic. “Going great, sensei!”
Somewhere on the floor behind him, Fushiguro grumbles. Seems like he doesn’t agree.
Gojo steps closer, hands in his pocket, and as always when he gets close, Sukuna’s hackles raise, cursed energy spiking slightly. Yuji thinks nothing of it, neither does anyone else, but this time—
This time something pops up behind Gojo-sensei. Arms, legs, until a full-blown curse is leaping in front of his teacher, screeching at him.
Yuji leaps back, and behind him he hears his classmates doing the same.
“A curse?!” Nobara lets out. “Isn’t the school supposed to be protected?”
But Gojo-sensei doesn’t look the slightest bit worried.
“Hey, hey, everyone, let’s all take it down a notch!” He pushes your head down forcefully, and you relent, rubbing against his legs and— purring? “Everything’s okay, he’s just a little riled up right now!”
“Gojo-sensei.” Yuji tilts his head incredulously. “Why are you petting the curse?”
“Hm? Oh, right.” Gojo moves to grab under your chin, shaking your head affectionately. You smile. Or at least Yuji thinks it’s a smile? Maybe? “Everyone, this is my husband, Y/N! Don’t worry, he’s totally harmless! Mostly!”
Like they’re in each other’s head, Yuji and Kugasaki turn to look at Fushiguro. Fushiguro looks away. Shrugs. Then turns his back to them completely.
“Fushiguro!” Nobara grabs the boy’s chin to forcefully turn his head. “Give us explanations!”
“Ask him explanations, not me!”
Gojo chuckles at their antics, scratching under your chin. You roll over to your back. Like... a cat.
“Don’t worry,” Gojo says lightly. Like this is completely normal and he’s wondering why everyone’s making such a fuss. “Think he might’ve just sensed Sukuna and decided to come see what’s up! He won’t hurt you. I think.”
Not too reassuring, but... Well, if Gojo says it’s fine, then it must be, right? Yuji gives a salute. “Got it, sensei! I won’t attack your curse husband!”
Behind him, Fushiguro and Kugisaki both sigh.
“You’re way too easy-going, Itadori.”
“I have a feeling this teacher is a problem...”
this one was a delight to write, honestly. it flowed really smoothly. also i genuinely had to stop myself from writing a full blown smut scene between satoru and curse!reader. anyway thanks for reading!
The whole, "K*lling urself is a permanent solution to a temporary problem" bullshit is spouted by the ignorant lucky ones who have only had temporary problems. Some people's problems are permanent so maybe try offering actual help and support to them rather than regurgitating an overused phrase that means nothing to people with real struggles.
sometimes, when you’re on top- which satoru loves, because he gets to be lazy- he’ll do finger guns at you. full on pew pew, while you’re riding him.
"look at you go, yeehaw! my little cowgirl-"
“stop talking.”
but he does not stop. he starts to make horse noises instead. he neighs. you vow to break up with him on the spot. but he flips you under him halfway through and makes you forget.
and god help you if you make an embarrassing noise. he will repeat it back to you- but so exaggerated. high pitched and mocking, giggling through it all.
“did you just go ‘mngh- ahh!’? do it again, do it again- c’mon-"
you tell him you hate him. he kisses the tip or your nose in response.
“you love me. my little dolphin, ee-ee-ee!”
and the worst part? he refuses to stop. he'll keep the bit going way after. you'll be in the shower trying to scrub the shame off, and he’ll lean on the doorframe, towel around his hips, "ahhh~ toru, so big~!" then cackle like a gremlin while you throw the shampoo bottle at him.
he'll do it in front of nanami, too. just to watch his soul leave his body. you'll call him on speaker to ask if he wants anything from the store- “yeah, get more milk, we used it all. you know, when you were all- ‘ah, ah, ahhh!" and nanami just… sighs. loudly. contemplates calling hr even though there is no hr.
sometimes he doesn’t even do the voice. he’ll just look at you across a restaurant table and mouth your moans back at you. the smirk is unbearable, annoying- and so him. he knows you know exactly what he’s referencing, and he lives for that split second of terror on your face before you kick him hard under the table.
you swear he’s the only man alive who could ruin the mood and make it ten times better.
synopsis. getting two sex-addicted hot demon bitches as your roommates wasn't exactly part of the contract, but they might just be the second best part of it. oh. and the best part? they are utterly, uncontrollably obsessed with you. wc. 5.3k
tags. top master! reader, bottom succubi! gojo & geto. reader has a cock. hardcore dom/sub. mean dom! reader, masochistic! gojo. threesome, womb tattoos, breeding kink, creampie(s), rimming, face-sitting, rough anal sex, multiple orgasms, riding, blowjob, male squirting, spanking, dacryphilia, somnophilia (slight dub-con), slut-shaming, degradation, praise kink, voyeurism, jealousy, felching, yandere! gojo undertones, aphrodisiacs, both of them are whiny, needy and hungry for your cock.
a/n. this might just be the filthiest thing i've ever written. do enjoy <3
In hindsight, you really, really should have known that your two roommates were promiscuous, sex-obsessed freaks before moving in with them. No, scratch that. You should have long known that they weren’t even entirely. . . human.
Not that they were exactly being subtle with it. Once, you had walked in on Satoru naked in the middle of ‘certain peculiar activities’ with his door half-open, wings, tail and dark pink womb tattoo on full display, stretching across the expanse of his lower abdomen in obscene heart-shaped swirls. You were taken aback at first, sure, but you weren’t mean with it, even offering to keep his identity a secret—and he had taken your politeness for something more.
Now, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore. In point of fact, he flaunted it.
Satoru would curl his tail around your thigh playfully whenever he would walk past you in the house, stretching his horned fuchsia wings while shooting you a sultry over-the-shoulder glance whenever you were behind him, even purposefully wearing shirts a size too small around you so that the fabric would ride above his waist whenever he had to ‘stretch’ or reach for something—perfectly showing off his pretty womb tattoo.
It drove you insane with desire. And if that wasn’t bad enough for you, Satoru’s best friend, who also happened to be a succubus and your other roommate—Suguru, decided that the white-haired succubus accidentally outing himself was his cue to start courting you.
You didn’t even know that succubi courted. You supposed there was always a first for everything.
Suguru was far from being openly vulgar like Satoru was, but just as indicative of his wants. And that happened to be you. With long black hair, dark wings and a sharp, swift tail of the same colour, he was eerily gorgeous. He took his sweet time courting you, laying blooming red peonies all over your bed that worked as aphrodisiacs, spending his weekends making you wine-flavoured chocolates in the shape of hearts, hoping to get you drunk and all to himself. You would also constantly find missing pieces of clothing from the underwear section of your wardrobe, the distinctive mouth-watering scent of an aroused succubus left behind in their stead.
Satoru and Suguru were beautiful in a way that most things were—poisonous and addictive. You had told yourself that you wouldn’t get swayed by their honeyed façade and fall into their trap. You had told yourself, but. . .
The last thing you expected to wake up to was a wet, searing mouth on your hard cock.
You groaned, shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure wracked through your body in overwhelming waves, reaching out blindly to hold onto something before it consumed you—fingers digging into the sheets so hard you heard it rip. You couldn’t explain why or how it felt so good, the pleasure almost other-worldly—the sensation of an incredibly soft tongue licking up your length, dragging a trail of heat and drool on sensitive skin. The air smelt sweet, like roses and cherries, the sharp sting of arousal zipping up your spine as you took a deep whiff.
“D-does it feel good, master?” a voice panted, whined, “am I doing good for you?”
You looked down to find two teary, dilated blue eyes staring up at you, and two you knew very well. “Satoru,” you managed, fighting down a shiver as his hot breaths smothered your shaft with unbearable warmth. Everything felt fuzzy and smelt too sweet, like someone had sprayed intoxicating perfume in your bedroom a thousand times over. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He gripped your cock tighter with a pout, like he was worried that you would take away his favourite toy. “I just… I just thought I could make you f-feel better. Some de-stressing after a hard day, y’know?” He sighed, rubbing his cheek against your spit-soaked length, raised tail quivering behind him, shyly curling forward to show off the heart-shaped end of it.
You couldn’t help but look. Satoru was dressed in a satin white shrug shirt that fully exposed his plump chest while allowing his wings to stretch out prettily, and you followed the tempting curves of his toned torso down to where his womb tattoo was pulsing and glowing red, as though showing off that he was eager to be bred. He was wearing the sluttiest, tiniest pair of lingerie underwear that barely covered his ass, the cute bulge of his cock visible from the front, his weeping cockhead poking out, strapped to his stomach. His outfit gave you the perfect glimpse of his soft milky thighs, before the rest was obscured by cream lace stockings that hugged his legs perfectly, leaving you wanting more.
Sweet Lord. If this wasn’t heaven, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what heaven would be like.
The succubus trembled under your scrutinizing, squeezing his thighs together as though he wanted to hide the evidence of his arousal. “A-are you done looking?” he mumbled, glancing at you through his lashes. “Can I continue? Please, I’ve been so good and you know it.” You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate even more when his gaze returned to your erect cock, a line of drool running down his chin as his throat bobbed, as though he were imagining what it would feel like to swallow your cum.
“Hold on,” you breathed, carding your hand through his soft hair to gently stop him from getting closer to your crotch. “Does Suguru know about this?”
Satoru’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, his pout fading into something more. . . wary. “No,” he said, quietly. “He doesn’t.”
“I’d thought so. Suguru wouldn’t—”
“Stop talking about Suguru,” he whined, like he was actually hurt over this. “Suguru’s not about to suck your cock.”
You frowned. And what gave him the right to sneak into your room and do blasphemous things to your body while you were sleeping, then? You tightened your grip on his hair, just enough to make him let out a low, pitiful whimper. “And you’re going to be the one to do it, then, Satoru?”
His eyes widened like a guilty child.
“I’m impressed,” you scorned, “You actually think you deserve it.”
Satoru bit his lip, as though he was turned on by your sudden change in behaviour. “I… Master, please. I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been asking for it for ages, I just couldn’t wait anymore—I needed you so bad. Please let me make it up to you. Please, please,” he stammered, hands grasping your knees and thighs in almost desperation while looking up at you with a forlorn expression.
You looked at him, steering your expression into something like a leer.
“You want to make it up to me? Is that so?” You pretended to think, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp, and he moaned softly, leaning into your touch. “Fine. Get on the bed.”
The succubus clambered onto the bed clumsily, settling on all fours as he looked at you over his shoulder with a deep flush, tail quivering with arousal. “L-like this?”
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you muttered, hands coming to rest on each of his asscheeks, kneading the flesh softly. Satoru whined, back pressing into an arch as he pushed his rump towards you, eager to please. “So, tell me, Satoru. I’m curious. What makes. . . a good slut?”
“S-someone who listens to orders,” he replied, obediently.
“That’s correct.” You whistled, hooking two fingers over the waistband of his underwear, slowly sliding it down to his knees until you completely exposed his leaking cock and hole, the latter clenching and dripping with… slick, like a pussy would. You went back to playing with his ass, ignoring it for the time being. “And does a good slut ever talk back to their master?”
“No,” he whimpered.
“What about,” you began, stroking his sensitive inner thighs, “taking what they want without permission?”
“No,” he repeated, biting back a whine as a slow sense of dread filled him. “That’s what… that’s what n-naughty sluts do.” The words sounded strangely obscene in his mouth, and he flushed, ears turning red.
“Very good,” you praised. “Last question, Satoru. You’ve answered every question perfectly so far—this one will be easy.” You flashed him a vicious smile, taking great pleasure in his ordeal. “Do you think naughty sluts deserve to be punished?”
The succubus shivered in both fear and anticipation, swallowing harshly. “Y-yes,” he whispered. “They do.”
Satoru didn’t even have time to beg for mercy because your hand fell hard on his ass, the force of it sending a loud smack echoing across the room, making him jerk forward with a pleasured cry.
The pain was electric, and so was the pleasure, a white-hot burn curling in his lower stomach as his cock gave a violent lurch—Satoru doesn’t think he has ever felt pleasure this good before in all his years of being a sex demon. You were a hard hitter too. The skin on his ass stung pleasantly, and he moaned out loud at the thought of you slapping his ass again and again until your handprint was burnt into his flesh, wanting more already.
“You really are a slut,” you whispered, almost in awe.
“Please,” he whined. He would take anything you were going to give him—praise or punishment. He was yours.
You gently massaged the bruised area on his ass, leaning down to give it a tender kiss. “Turn around for me, baby.” You opted for a softer tone, trying to coax him into letting you see his face after the harsh treatment. You couldn’t believe you ever thought that he was the danger here. Things were turning out in the most perfect way, you would believe it was a dream if not for how solid Satoru felt under your touch.
Satoru parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue—but quickly remembered your words. The pain was good, incredibly good, but it was also fleeting. If this was his first and last chance with you, then he would make the pleasure last.
He flipped over on his back, removing his underwear and quietly spreading his shaky legs for you. His cock gave a weak twitch as your gaze swept across his body with interest, letting a low whine.
“Good boy, Satoru,” you muttered, eyes zeroing in on the heart-shaped swirls of his pulsing womb tattoo. Admittedly, you had looked it up on the internet and found out all sorts of things about succubi, terms that ranged from ‘breeding’ and ‘fertility’ to ‘cum-addiction’, and you couldn’t wait to experiment them on him. “Gonna open you up now.”
You rubbed your fingers against his soft and wet entrance, slathering them in his slick, before starting to push two in, just to be mean. The succubus was already panting, mindlessly arching his back and pushing against your fingers. “Hah… Master… please, more…”
“More what? Tell me what you want, Satoru.”
Satoru let out a lewd cry as you rubbed at his sensitive walls, hips jerking. “P-Please!” he squeaked. “Want your cum… inside my womb.”
You could feel a sadistic smile pulling at your lips. So this was his true objective. To be bred like a cockslut—no, an animal. An animal bound by divine instruction to reproduce again and again and again, brainlessly offering up its holes to be filled with semen until its belly swells with the early stages of pregnancy. Perhaps the rumours about succubi on the internet were true, after all.
You weren’t going to give him what he wanted so easily, though. You weren’t that nice—he hasn’t earned it yet.
“Greedy,” you settled for a simple comment, leer morphing into something more innocent. You made sure to crook your fingers at a certain angle while pumping them in and out of his drooling hole, searching for the spot that made his toes curl and back arch, a filthy wail forcing his lips to part. “You sure you can handle that, baby?”
His womb tattoo glowed brighter, scorching hot underneath your touch. Satoru looked fucked out already and the night was still young, lidded eyes unfocused and glassy while he continued to grind down against your fingers, as though searching for something wider, thicker, deeper.
“Slut,” you snarled, and the word was barely fitting for how the succubus was acting. You pulled your fingers out, the emptiness making him ache. He gave a loud whine, his hips giving a desperate buck into the empty air, neglected cock red and hard, smearing pre-cum all over his womb tattoo.
“‘m your good slut,” he babbled, slurred for how drunk and stupid he sounded. You were sure anyone standing outside your bedroom would hear him with how loud he was being.
His mouth felt empty, you decided. A little too empty. You hooked a thumb into the stretchy side of his mouth before rubbing your fingers on his bottom lip, and he gave a soft keen, parting his lips for you to slide them inside, before lightly sucking on them—tasting his own juices.
“If you keep this up,” you warned, “Suguru will hear. You don’t want him hearing me making you scream, do you, Satoru? Or are you more of a pervert than I thought?”
“No,” he said, muffled by your fingers stuffing his mouth full, tears dribbling down his cheeks.
“Good sluts don’t talk with their mouth full,” you reminded him, gently brushing away his tears.
He shook his head quickly, whining. Satoru didn’t like to share, and you knew that. You were his bond, his human. You didn’t need another succubus. Right?
You bit down a smile at his blatant jealousy, pretending not to notice the presence right outside your room, the rustle of fabric unmistakable—barely covered by Satoru’s loud whimpers. It was a little too early to reveal it, with how both of them were enjoying themselves. You would indulge them a little longer.
You coated your fingers with his spit generously before pulling them out, a string of drool connecting the two, before reaching down and unceremoniously plugging them back into his needy hole. Satoru yelped, trying to snap his thighs shut at the sudden intrusion, and you took the opportunity to guide them to wrap around your waist. He flushed, stammering out an apology, but you wouldn’t miss this chance to tease him.
“Look at you, Satoru.” You continued to scissor him, occasionally pulling out to slather your cock with his sweet-smelling slick. “I haven’t even put it in yet, and here you are, drooling like we’ve been at it all night. Messy cockslut.”
“Your cockslut,” he whimpered, and it sharpened into a keen when you slowly drove forward to dip the head of your cock in his hole. It clenched around you greedily, and it felt incredible even with only the tip in, soft and wet and hungry, warmth oozing into you, making you burn with desire. What was even more incredible was the fact that Satoru was crying, tears spilling over red, flushed cheeks as he struggled to stay still for you, wanting to please, wanting forgiveness. “Hnngh… master…”
He was right. Satoru was your cockslut.
You leaned down to caress his wet cheek, the action only causing your cock to nudge deeper inside, the warm tightness nearly sending you into overdrive—making you moan. You had never been inside a hole this heavenly before. The snug stretch around your girth was insane, and if that wasn’t enough, his hole kept on fluttering and clenching around you, making delicious sensations bleed into you.
So the myths were true, after all—succubi were demons crafted for the sake of providing pleasure.
Your vision was growing hazy with lust, the heat in your belly growing. The pleasure was almost too much—but you held on. You would drain him before he drained you.
Grabbing him by the thick of his hips, you buried yourself to the hilt in one go, and Satoru let out a wrecked cry, fingers bunching up the sheets at the sudden stimulation. His womb tattoo sizzled and pulsed obscenely, and you reached down to gently press your palm against it, making him whimper loudly.
You didn’t know if you would be able to hold it in for much longer—with how the poor thing was squirming on your cock, sweet slick coating your cock with every thrust in and drive out, the carnal smell of it all making your appetite grow tenfold, making you want to strip him of all dignity and devour.
“Satoru,” you murmured, thrusting forward, and he answered with a keening wail of your name. “It seems like… we have a rather eager spectator. Should we invite him inside?”
“Wh-what…” Satoru said dumbly, whines interrupting his words as his eyes struggled to focus. “Spectator…?”
“Yeah.” You grinned as he realised who you were talking about, stiffening and shaking his head with a cry. He wanted to have you all to himself for a little longer… you haven’t even cum inside him yet. This wasn’t fair. “Let’s see if he’s just as much of a cock-hungry slut as you are, mm?”
You turned your head to the door. “Suguru. Come in.”
The door hesitantly creaked open, and Suguru stepped inside. Immediately, the sweetness of aroused succubi intensified in the room, a clash between Satoru’s sugary scent and Suguru’s honeyed one making you dizzy with want.
“Master,” Suguru swallowed, a red flush on his cheeks. He was dressed in a revealing dark purple night-robe, a ravishing complement to the long, black hair that cascaded down his shoulders. He looked at the two of you calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the shine between his thighs, giving away how bothered he really was. “How long have you known?”
“Quite a while. Get on the bed and prepare yourself,” you ordered, turning back to the other succubus who was currently grinding himself senseless on your cock, little whines and pleas plucked out with each desperate roll of his hips. “I’ll deal with you after I’m done with Satoru.”
Suguru listened obediently, laying down on the bed on his back, night robe gracefully falling open to reveal his purple womb tattoo, already throbbing and glowing with heat and need. He reached down between his parted thighs, rubbing and pleasuring his hole while watching the two of you, soaking the mattress with how much slick he was producing.
You turned back to Satoru, the sight of his red, crying face sending a jolt of heat straight into your abdomen. “What?” You grinned, gripping his waist and starting to thrust into his tight heat again. “I did warn you.”
“S-so mean,” he sobbed, arching his back at the pleasure. He was whimpering again, warm walls hugging your length firmly every time you drove in, and you could tell he was getting close again, had been close before you had so cruelly stopped to indulge someone else. Satoru turned his head to look at the other succubus, their simultaneous pants and whines serving to make each other even more aroused, Satoru’s slick drenching your cock while Suguru’s messily dribbled all over his hand, obscene squelching noises like heavenly music to your ears.
“Gonna cum,” you announced, and both of them answered you with needy, high-pitched whines, Suguru fingering himself to your thrusts while Satoru laid there, moaning and sobbing, reduced to nothing but a pliable body made to take and take and take.
The latter blinked up at you with glossy eyes, tears dotting on his lashes and crying out lewdly while you continued to pound into him like a rabid animal. Satoru loved it, how rough and careless you were treating him, your gentle hands telling a different story as they caressed his face, the contrast of pain and pleasure making him shiver. No one had been able to satisfy him like this before. You were perfect for him.
“Please… your cum…” he pleaded, laying a hand on his pulsating womb tattoo, begging for you to fulfil his only purpose in life—to be filled and bred like the dumb slut he was. “I w-want it inside…”
You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, his warm hole sucking you deeper in with every flutter, every clench, showering you in waves of stimulation to the point where it teetered between pleasure and pain. Just when stars began to float across your vision in hazy swirls, a sign that you were close to orgasm, you pulled out hastily, ignoring Satoru’s desperate, keening sob, yanking Suguru towards you by the hips before roughly plunging your cock into his needy hole.
The startled moan that you pulled out from the other succubus was enough to drive you to the peak of your arousal, and you thrust a few more times before spilling into warm wetness with a loud, guttural groan.
When you came to be, there were two kinds of noises rebounding in the room—Satoru’s cries and Suguru’s whines.
“Master!” Satoru sobbed, bucking his hips into empty air as tears messily dripped down his face.
“M-master,” Suguru whimpered, drooling and panting, stuffed so full of cum and cock he could barely speak.
You moaned as you drew out from Suguru’s heat, watching as cum dribbled out from his puffy hole and onto the soaked mattress—and he let out a soft, needy whine, plugging two fingers inside himself to stop anything more from leaking out, as though to replace the fullness that he had felt before. You watched as he lay there shivering weakly, glowing womb tattoo tainted with streaks of white, and you realised that he had come just from you releasing inside him.
You swallowed, feeling your cock fill out again. Suguru really was a good slut. Perfect, even.
“Master…!” Satoru cried out again, gaze lingering on you and Suguru with an expression that could only be described as heartbroken, and you would feel sorry for him, if not for you catching sight of the softening cock resting against his heaving abdomen. The perverted thing had orgasmed from watching you cum inside someone else. If that wasn’t a sight.
“I never promised you anything, Satoru.” You looked down at the mess you had created, smiling innocently. “Plus, Suguru’s a far better slut than you are, don’t you think? After all, he waited patiently for his turn to be bred, unlike you.” You slumped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh, turning to Suguru and patting your lap. “Sit on my cock, baby.”
Suguru rubbed at his eyes, compliantly trudging over and straddling your waist, the length of your cock rubbing lewdly between his cheeks. He bit his lip, raising his hips until the tip of it nudged against his sore hole, the growing stretch more pleasurable than anything. Your cum turned out to be the perfect lubricant, and the intrusion was met with little resistance, allowing him to slowly sink down with a hungry whine.
“F-feels so goood,” he slurred, his eyes rolling back as you bottomed out, making the both of you moan. He mindlessly rubbed at his stomach, right above his womb, where you had gifted him a baby.
“See?” You looked at Satoru lazily, the poor thing watching in a mixture of arousal and frustration. “Suguru’s been so good for me. What have you done?”
Satoru wanted to cry again at your demeaning tone. This was too much. You were being so mean to him, when he was trying his best to atone for his wrongdoings! He didn’t deserve this treatment, not one bit. If Suguru gets a baby, then he should get one, too.
“I’m s-sorry,” he snivelled weakly. “Please, master… I promise I won’t ever misbehave again. I’ll be a good slut… I’ll do anything you want.”
You smiled. “Anything I want?”
He nodded, desperate.
“Sit on my face and I’ll think about it.”
Satoru wanted to protest, yank Suguru off your cock and ride it himself until you spurted heavy into his womb, showing you that he could please you just as much as the other succubus did, maybe even more. You were his, and naturally, your pleasure belonged to him as well. Suguru might be his best friend, but that didn’t mean Satoru liked to share his toys with him. But. . . if this was his last shot at gaining your forgiveness, then he would do whatever it takes to please you, even if it meant suppressing his needs for the time being.
He scrambled over to where you were lying, carefully placing one knee on each side of your face, trembling with effort as he slowly lowered himself onto your face. He let out a soft, whiny keen as his position pressed his hole directly against your parted lips, and he struggled not to rut against your face—holding himself back from chasing after the addictive pleasure.
You gently lifted him by the hips to breathe, before pressing a light kiss to the twitching hole. Licking around Satoru’s swollen rim in an attempt to loosen him up, you rolled your hips up into the welcoming warmth of the other succubus, jolting out an erotic moan.
“You can start riding me, Suguru,” you muttered, closing your eyes and letting out a drawn-out moan as he gave a filthy clench around your length at the mention of his name. “Don’t hold back.”
“Yes, master,” Suguru whined, rolling his hips against yours in smooth, circular motions, and you could feel the slick leaking out from his hole, smothering your length with the abundance of it, sweet and sleek and thick. The succubus rode you like he was made to do it, his cock slapping against his womb tattoo messily with every bounce, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure—letting out a stream of whimpers and pleas while his hole fluttered around you tirelessly, trying to get you to cum inside him a second time.
You returned to your task at hand—giving a broad lick over Satoru’s dripping hole to gather some of his slick on your tongue, making him sob out a whine. It was sweet and intoxicating, addictive flavour melting in your mouth like sugar, and you couldn’t get enough—shoving your entire tongue into him before eating him out in earnest.
And sweet lord, did he taste good. He was squeezing around you deliciously, releasing so much slick that it dripped all over your chin and down the column of your throat, making a mess. It drove you crazy. Before you knew it, you were making animalistic noises against his swollen entrance as you made love to it with your tongue, the vibrations making him croon with pleasure. And by now, you were sure that succubi slick had aphrodisiac effects, because with every mouthful that you swallowed, you found it harder and harder to control yourself, wanting to just give in to your arousal and take.
“Please,” Satoru was sobbing loudly, feeling wet and loose and dirty, thighs trembling with little restraint as you lifted him up and down your tongue with ease, reaching so deep one would think you were trying to plunder his soul. “Gonna… gonna cum already…”
“M-me too,” Suguru chimed in with a moan, hips growing wearier with every lift, his impending orgasm making him weak, the fullness of cock giving him the illusion of heaviness, and he held his belly as though he were pregnant already.
You continued to pleasure the both of them the best you could, tongue curling inside Satoru with precision to press against his sweet spot until he was shaking and whimpering with overstimulation—while rolling your hips up to meet Suguru’s, feeling him needily clench around you every time you rammed up just right.
You could feel yourself getting closer as well, the noises that your two obscene lovers were making serving to turn you on even more. Combined with the sinful pressure of Satoru’s sopping hole clenching around your tongue and the searing tightness of Suguru jumping on your cock, this was practically heaven.
Reaching over to grip Suguru’s hips, you thrust up repeatedly into his tight warmth, leaving the other to ride your tongue on his own. You groaned your pleasure into Satoru’s hole, and the succubus answered with a keening cry of “Master!”, grinding down against your face with wild abandon. Both of their womb tattoos were glowing brighter than ever, screaming at you to breed them, take them, devour them—and you did just that.
You rammed your hips up with a muffled shout, gripping Suguru’s waist so tightly you were sure it would leave dark bruises for days to come—unloading everything into his womb for the second time tonight—your seed, your love, your legacy. Suguru cried out loudly at the feeling of your cum filling him up, shuddering as his cock squirted all over the three of you—his stomach, your chest, Satoru’s back—while Satoru clenched around your tongue so tightly as his orgasm crashed over him like a hurricane, cumming all over your face and the mattress with a hoarse scream.
You gasped for breath the moment Satoru slid off your face and collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily, black spots swirling heavily in your vision—the aftermath of the most intense orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Succubi—no, your succubi really were something.
Suguru was too tired to even protest as your softening cock slid out from his sheath, dragging out a trail of slick and cum. Yawning, he shifted to lay on the bed on his stomach, mumbling “Thank you, master,” before his eyes drooped shut in exhaustion. You watched him fondly, reaching out to card a hand through his silky hair, before a soft, almost petulant whine caught your attention.
Satoru was glaring at the other succubus with jealousy. Sure, he had gotten a mind-blowing orgasm out of it, but he wanted you filling him up until he felt bloated with your cum, wanted to be bred.
You let out an amused laugh. “You want my cum that bad?”
He nodded his head frantically.
“Well, then…” You turned to where Suguru had fallen asleep, cum trickling out of his asshole and sliding down his perineum steadily. You guess it would be somewhat of a waste to just leave him be. “Since Suguru took your share for the night. . . there you go. Have a taste.”
Satoru’s face was slightly pale when you turned back to look at him, a sick grin stretching at your lips. He didn’t question you, however, quietly crawling over until he was kneeling between Suguru’s legs. His heart was pounding, your words earlier that night replaying in his head again and again like mantra—a good slut listens to orders.
Making eye contact with you, he poked his tongue out, slowly leaning down before giving the excess cum a tentative lick. . . and swallowed.
You were sure those were hearts exploding in his eyes.
Your nails dug into your palms and your jaw was clenched. It was silent as you and Aemond walked beside each other.
“Was my uncle the one to strike you?” Aemond asked beside you and your eyes twitched at the mention of your latest humiliation.
“What do you think?” You spat out not even bothering to look at him as you stormed down the hall. Only one whole day here and you had gotten bitch slapped and then humiliated in front of potential boy toys. It was unacceptable! Not to mention you hadn’t eaten anything because you were scared that you would contract something.
“Yes, Daemon backhanded me, and then he-” You took a deep breath calming yourself. It’s not cute when you get mad. “Sorry. Yes, Prince Daemon was the one to strike me as you say.” You turned to face Aemond who had no expression on his face. It unnerved you.
“Why?” Was all he said before walking beside you at a slower pace.
“Because I’m not a messiah, or a saint, or whatever it is you guys have here to perform miracles. What do I look like saving someone without an eye-” Oooh, yikes. You cringed at your wording suddenly remembering Aemond had an eye patch. “Sorry.”
Aemond didn’t acknowledge your apology. In fact he didn’t say anything. What went on in that head, you couldn’t say. The man never let out anything but a smile that always looked condescending.
You cleared your throat to speak again instead of being in the awkward silence. “Anyways, he told me if I couldn’t heal him, he’d kill me. I told him there wasn’t much I could do and he was going to chop off my head and I stopped him, then he backhanded me.”
“You? You stopped my uncle?” You could hear just a little bit of surprise in his voice and for some reason it filled you with pride to know you could evoke something like that out of him.
You smiled towards him and you felt your cut split open once more. “Why do you think he had those bandages on his hand?”
As you reached your chamber doors, you both stood looking at each other. That small smirk on his face he always had now slightly more pronounced and of course you with an innocent little smile while blood coated your bottom lip.
“Well, thank you for walking me to my…” You fought the urge to say room. “Chambers.” You let a small silence fall before taking a deep breath and looking at him with a sincere expression. “And thank you, for pulling me away from Daemon.” You opened your doors and before you stepped inside once more you looked back towards the Prince with a small smile. “Goodnight Prince Aemond.”
“Goodnight my lady.” He gave a nod before you turned away, closing the door. Walking inside the candle-lit room you sat down. It smelled like candle wax and not the good kind here, you needed to circulate the air but if you opened the window it’d smell terrible because people here lacked basic hygiene and still throw their bodily fluids outside windows.
Like really? Out of all the places, you somehow ended up in medieval times? It couldn’t have been during Roman times when there were aqueducts and running water, public bathhouses, and a pretty good sewer system?
You sighed and sat down on a chair refusing to touch your bed until you were out of this dress. You looked around your room or chambers as they called them here. Standing up you went to the window touching the curtains. Well at the very least they had good windows. Opening up the curtains you watched the lights of the city.
What were you doing here? What could you do here? Why were they keeping you around? Did they really think you were some sort of god-sent messenger? You already couldn’t heal the king and Daemon made it more than clear that he was willing to kill you. Would others?
You just wanted to go home. You felt as if you were going mad without music. You’d kill to listen to some modern music but if you did your battery would go down and wasting the only thing you had left from where you came from and wasting it on music was not something you were going to do.
“Oh god, I can’t.” You sighed out in frustration. The smell of candles was provoking a headache. Bad enough you were sensitive to smell, but now living in a smelly city!? God you just couldn’t! Walking away from the window you opened the doors. “Oh!” You let out a small yelp.
Queen Alicent and her father stood there seemingly ready to knock. “Your grace, my lord.” You nodded, greeting both. “Please come in.” You invited them in and both entered as you closed the door.
You cringed internally hoping your room wasn’t too messy. Your suitcase lay open showing countless bottles of shampoo, soaps, and conditioner among other things.
“Sorry for the mess, I was not expecting visitors.” You spoke as you quickly went to close your suitcase. “You turned and smiled and fought the urge to hiss as you felt your lip crack again. Had to apply something to it.
“How may I help you?” You asked as you gestured for them to sit down and you sat on the side of the table. (Was it a coffee table or a tea table? Did coffee exist here?)
“I do hope you have been enjoying your stay here…” Otto trailed looking around your room. He spoke with such a tone that it made you sit up right. “You seem to have taken quite well with your quarters.” He made an off comment as he looked towards your clothes which lay on the ground.
“I have, and I am grateful for the crown’s hospitality.” It was clear what the implication was. The only problem was that in all honesty, you were not one to enjoy such word games. You lost your temper too quickly, but here you were a guest, you had to comply with whatever rules they had. “Should there be a day the Crown may have use for certain knowledge I possess I would be most happy to oblige.” This is probably the most formal you have ever spoken to since arriving here, but it was necessary.
“Good, now earlier today you spoke of genetics I believe.” You nodded. “You said it determines offspring coloring…”
“Yes the phenotypes and genotypes, is there someone who you would wish to know their parentage?” You knew bastards were unwelcome here but to go as far as this?
“How accurate would you say you can get the answer?”
“It depends on how much information I can attain. I would need the appearances of as many relatives. Mother, father, alleged fathers, alleged mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers and so on. The more the better. My method is considered extremely accurate. I can give the possibilities of the phenotypes that a child would have depending on the parents, this of course can also be used to prove…” You leaned forward and looked through your lashes towards the father and daughter. “Bastardy, if one so wished of course.”
“Such information is sensitive, I’m sure you can understand,” Otto murmured, looking at you with serious eyes.
You looked towards Alicent with a stern look on your face. “Queen Alicent saved my life. I assure you, that hasn’t been forgotten. Now, who is my investigation on?”
“The children of Princess Rhaenerya.”
…
You groaned as the maids opened the blinds. “No stop! Don’t open the windows, it stinks out there, just leave the door open.” You sat up on your bed stretching. You looked over towards one of the two maids who had opened the curtains. “Get me…two bowls of freshly boiled water and one cup, please.”
“Would you like me to bring you one of the dresses the Queen has gifted you, my lady?” The second maid asked and you shook your head.
“No need, I won’t be leaving my room today but what you can get me is fruits or oils. Oh, and get me a pot to melt things plus some scrap rope, I have work to do today.” You spoke as you yawned standing up and looking down towards the family tree you had made last night, a whole lot of incest in there.
When the second maid left you sat down and stared at the family tree. Of course, you did not know whether white hair was recessive or dominant nor if black hair was recessive or dominant, usually however, black hair tended to be the dominant trait and of course, the hair color genotype was incomplete dominance. There were too many possibilities and just thinking about it you felt overwhelmed.
“Oh my god, I don’t wanna do this.” You groaned out and just then both maids came back. You smiled and stood up walking away from your desk. “Beautiful. Leave me, I will call you when I need you.” Both maids bowed and left. Skipping to your suitcase you pulled out a tube of toothpaste and your toothbrush. “Oh, yuh!” You grinned and set your things down. You rinsed your face with the warm water cleaning your face. Then squeezing out a good amount of toothpaste you happily began brushing your teeth.
After brushing your teeth feeling clean and refreshed you went over to smell the oils they brought you. Each with its own label. You squint your eyes muttering a curse. It was hard to read cursive written like this, though eventually you got the name. Six oils they had brought you, lavender, thyme, meadowsweet, marjoram, germander, and hyssop. All smelled quite nice so you’d make them all into scented candles. Going around the room you look at all the candles from the candle holders and dump them into a pot where to proceed to melt them all. You’re sure that scented candles already existed but honestly, you didn’t want to do the whole genetics equation just yet. You’d rather do a thousand other things than work on that stupid problem.
You spent the better part of the day making your little candles, though you didn’t like the humidity that crept into your room. But now at least it didn’t smell bad inside your room, you didn’t want to ruin that by opening the window. Besides you were familiar with humidity, it never got better when you opened a window.
Every day seemed to be a cruel monotonous day. You thought that being in a different era of time would result in more than you slaving over a desk testing out different possibilities of punnett squares so you get the most accurate answer you can. After all, if you got this wrong, well you’re sure it’s going to be your head on the chopping block. You got close enough last time and after nearly dying once, you can confidently say, this was NOT worth your life.
You had initially thought that the white was received but that changed due to Jocelyn Baratheon being able to pass on her hair color to Princess Rheanys, but it was a different story when you looked at the Queen’s children, all white hair.
“So what is it!? Okay, we know it’s heterozygous, but is the Queen’s brown hair homozygous recessive then or is it also heterozygous? Does that even matter?” You gave out a yell of frustration. “Ugh! Where are the French when you need them!? That one song, Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira, les aristocrates à la lanterne! Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira les aristocrates on les pendra!” Standing up from your spot you felt a sweat bead fall down your back. It was so hot you felt like you were going to die.
On the fourth day, however, the heat became unbearable. “Fuck! I need a fan or sum!” You went and plopped yourself on your bed sighing. As you laid out you groaned as your back straight out. You don’t know how many hours you spent hunched over that stupid equation. You looked at your phone which was on the stand. “I deserve a song, maybe a movie.” Crawling you grabbed it and turned it on. Scrolling through your downloaded songs you fanned yourself. Finally, you settled on a song and as it began playing you walked around your room fanning yourself. Mid-song a huge grin grew on your face. Rolling up that damned family tree you pulled out another piece of paper and began sketching whole loudly singing the song that played in the background. After about an hour of your playlist playing a rough draft of a fan was born.
You had no electricity, but a little inertia should do the trick. You went to your phone and powered it off once more before stepping outside and calling in the nearest maid ordering her to dress you.
After being dressed you took your plans and headed off to find the blacksmith. Though mid-way walking through the castle you paused. You didn’t know where you headed. Walking around trying to find anyone, a door suddenly opened on your right. You backed away and Aemond came out looking towards you. You smiled. “Hey! Prince Aemond, where are you coming from?” You looked behind him to see a large dark room but before you could see anymore the doors closed.
“The library.” He answered with a flat tone looking you over.
“Oh! I didn’t know you guys had one, I’ll definitely have to check it out later.” You spoke in a cheery voice. This was perfect. A prince would certainly know the best blacksmith around.
An awkward moment of silence passed. As he kept his eyes on you, you felt self-conscious and were suddenly aware of the fact that you had no makeup on and that the ugly bruise on your face was showing. Eager to have him focus on something else other than your face you spoke up. “Well! Prince Aemond, you wouldn’t happen to know a blacksmith…would you?”
“A blacksmith? Why would a lady such as yourself, require a blacksmith?” He looked you up in a questioning manner.
“I need something made.” You answered and you could feel the judgment radiating off of him.
“Armor?” Aemond scoffed out.
“Goodness no. I’ve never even swung a real sword. I need other things made, and a blacksmith is the best I could come up with.” You ignored his tone and responded with a smile. You needed that blacksmith.
“What do you need to make?” Aemond pressed.
Rolling your eyes you responded. “Six spheres, two annuli, and five blades.” You watched his face and saw confusion on his face and you resisted the urge to give a smug smirk.
“Hm.. and do you have money for a blacksmith?” He smiled down at you and you paused. No…you actually didn’t have any money.
“Hmmm…no.” You purse your lips and squint your eyes at him. You stepped away from him and pointed at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow or sometime.” That was all you said before you walked away.
“My Lady, the King requests your presence.” A maid told you as we were just about to enter your room. You sighed and nodded letting the maid guide you to the King’s chamber room.
“Your Grace,” You greeted looking towards the old man in the bathtub. “You summoned me?” You walked over to stand in front of the naked man. You tried not to let your eyes wander. It was not something you wished to see.
“The hot baths and the daily disinfecting work fine, but you have forbidden drinking wine. What am I to drink? Just water?” King Viserys heaved out and pursed your lips in thought.
“A drink?” You observed the King, his skin was weak, gray and his bones were showing. He lacked nutrients. IV would work, but you didn’t know how to administer it and would rather not risk your first time putting a needle into someone who could have your head. “A juice of berries is something you can do. However, I will do my best to create a drink that helps your condition.”
Great something else to add to your already long to-do list. Couldn’t the man just die already!? The Princess ascends to the throne, and you figure out how to return home without killing yourself.
As you looked down towards the sickly man the gears in your head turned. Coffee could maybe give the allusion to feeling better, but where did coffee beans even come from? You couldn’t recall. Energy drinks were out of the question, and you had no clue how to even make them. Excess sugar? You didn’t know. Maybe some coconut water would help him. Coconut was good for people no? Maybe some milk?
No wait, what if he was lactose intolerant? You saw their versions of toilets. Not cute, you hated using them. It was disgusting.
“How long will you have me wait?” Viserys spoke out once more in a heaving tone.
“I’ll have it for you by tomorrow.” You stood still and the room full of Maester stared at you. “Oh umm, your grace. Excuse me.” You corrected yourself before leaving the room. As you walked down the hallways you saw a familiar green dress.
“Queen Alicent!” You greeted me with a smile. She only nodded towards you. “A small update on my work, I have figured out several potential linkages of genetics, I won’t be able to calculate percentages until next week give or take.”
Alicent sighed and nodded.
“...Along with that, can I ask for some…money?” You looked away from her as you asked. You hated asking for money. It was not something you were raised with. When given money it was polite to refuse it until you couldn’t. Asking for money was always out of the question. You even hate asking for your parent’s money.
“Money? What for?” She responded and you played with the rings on your fingers.
“I am making something, it is to help me with my work.” You looked up from the floor and towards Alicent. You saw her give a small nod. “My deepest gratitude.” You bowed.
“I will arrange a meeting with the master coin this afternoon.”
…
“Who’s that for?” A familiar voice sounded next to you. You rolled your eyes as you continued walking forward away from Aegon.
“Not for you.” You had not spoken to Aegon since the dinner. After all, the man had pushed you. Granted, you did land in Jacaerys arms, which was not a bad thing, but still. It was the principal, and recently, you had heard of bad things he had done. Abusing maids, bastard children, and he was an alcoholic. Not the company you wished to keep.
“I haven’t seen you in a week, not since our dance. I quite enjoyed our time together.” He spoke walking beside you trying to see what was inside the pitcher you were holding.
“I’m sure you did.” You answered in a flat tone and he stopped walking with a small frown on his face.
“Are you upset with me?” He asked you, looking you up and down.
“Did you do something to upset me? Because if you did then I am, but if you did not then I am not upset.” You looked away from him hugging the pitcher closer to you.
“What is with these riddles, woman? I asked you a question. Answer it plainly.” He rolled his eyes at you running to catch up with you.
“I did.” You gave a hum and walked into the chambers of King Viserys.
Leaving Aegon behind you walked over to King Viserys who was on a table having his wounds disinfected. “I’ve brought a drink, it improves hydration, muscle health, nerve function, blood pressure regulation, pH balance, and heart health” Or at least that’s what your health teacher told you when you had a class assignment to make electrolyte drinks from scratch.
You poured a glass for him and gave it to him as he sat up drinking it. He let out a sound of contentment while nodding. “This is good. What does it have?” You smiled, setting down the pitcher filled with electrolyte water.
“Ah, just basic things, a little bit of sugar for energy, then some sea salt, then finally some orange juice. Nothing too complicated. I’d drink it once every two days, it’s filled with a lot of nutrients, and too much can cause damage to the body. However, when you wish to drink it, simply ask the kitchen for an energy drink and they’ll make it.” You walked around, filled another chalice and offered it to the head Maester who took it drinking just a bit to test out your latest concoction.
“Thank you,” Viserys spoke with a more steady voice than he had in the last week you had spoken to him. He also seemed to sit a lot straighter. Maybe the old man had more than just a couple of weeks. No casket just yet! “I need less milk of the poppy these days to help me sleep, though I do occasionally have trouble, do you have anything for that?”
Damn! Damn, that old needy man!
There were melatonin gummies but you didn’t know how to make gummies, much less what melatonin was made out of. “Em…drink…lavender tea or have the oils sprinkled in your room. It relaxes the body, and uhh… read a boring book. It’ll knock you right out.” You gave a grin at your joke.
Viserys smiled and nodded, giving thanks.
“Of course, it is the least I can do for the Crown's continued hospitality towards me.” With that, you bowed and excused yourself to start your search mission for a certain one-eyed prince. You needed that blacksmith, this heat was killing you and honestly, you can’t stand sleeping without a blanket but it’s too hot with one.
You walked around till you finally found the library and entered. The first thing you smelt was dust. “Ugh! Goodness, do I have to invent dusters too!?” Sniffling you walked around searching for long white and impossibly straight hair. You smiled as you saw him reading a book. Walking up to him you set the bag of gold you had recently gotten from Alicent in front of him. “I have the money, now, about that blacksmith,”
Aemond gave a sigh closing the book. “You’ll find blacksmiths on the street of steel.”
“Seriously?” Your unimpressed expression said it all. “That's what the street is called? M’kay.” You turned around and as you went to walk off.
“Not many women buy armor.” Aemond pointed out and you stopped thinking about his statement. That’s right, this was an…unevolved society, not that yours was super better, but still a little. They’d probably try to upsell you…like a car dealership when a car needs an oil change or when the tires need to be rotated. (As if the tires didn’t rotate when you drove.)
You walked over to Aemond with the sweetest smile you mustered. “You’re right, I need a man to come with me. Maybe someone from the city will watch?” You batted your eyelashes, it was just your luck that you did put on a little mascara and some blush today. “Unless,” You leaned over the table and walked your fingers to his book while looking up towards him through your lashes. You’d probably get a better deal and a better blacksmith while having the prince.
“I have better things to do.” He responded in a flat tone but you didn’t miss the little smirk on his face. Though you didn’t know if that was just his resting face or something else.
“Aren’t curious to know what I’m inventing? I know you don’t know what an annuli is. I am the next biggest step in technology, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one or something? I thought this would elicit some kind of reaction.” You sighed looking away from him and instead looked towards the ceiling leaning back on the table. “I guess not. I wonder who the smart one is then, perhaps the least expected one. Aegon? Maybe the woman, Helaena, wouldn't that be something?”
“What are you inventing?” He spoke as you stood upright to leave. A smile grew on your face and you turned to him. “You’ll be the first one I show once it’s done. Promise.” You held out your pinky. He only looked at it. You grabbed his left hand and formed a fist on his hand leaving out the pinky. “You just wrap it around mine and this…” You looked at your pinkies intertwined with a smile. “Means a promise.”
…
You sighed with a big smile on your face as you wiped the sweat from your brow away. You grabbed some small bottles of shampoo and filled each one with water before you attached it to one of the five blades until each had its own bottle.
“Moment of truth.” You sighed out feeling jittery hoping that your hypothesis was right. You spun it as hard as you could and your makeshift fan spun fast blowing sweet cool air toward you drying the sweat from your face. You stood there for a couple of moments taking in the air seeing if the fan would slow down and to your satisfaction, it didn’t.
You giggled with excitement as you jumped and pumped your fist in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Nikola Tesla who!? Who needs electricity? Not me! Yes!” You relished your victory in front of your fan as the cool air flowed and gave you a nice breeze under your night clothes. Finally being able to relax you sat down sighing out in contentment. “This…this deserves a song!” You jumped onto your bed and began playing a song on your playlist as you danced around your room singing along. Mid celebration dance your stomach rumbled. Stopping you raised a brow realizing that your maids hadn’t brought you breakfast yet. Sighing you opened the door only to see Prince Jacaerys and his betrothed Princess Baela looking rather suspicious.
“Your grace? Graces?” What do you call multiple royals? You made a mental note to ask Alicent when you met her later tonight. Though Jacaerys was quick to look away. You understood the guy probably didn’t have much experience with girls, but this was a bit much no?
“My lady! You are a nightgown!” Baela spoke in a shocked tone and you looked down. It wasn’t like you were naked and this was rather covering, besides, you had shorts on under the dress.
“Oh, so that's what this is called. I thought it went under the dress.” You spoke in a nonchalant tone. Why would this be such a big deal?
“No, you wear those to sleep. My lady it is midday.” Baela spoke once again, clearing her throat. Has it really been that long? You had begun assembling your fan in the early hours of the morning when you couldn’t sleep due to the heat.
“Oh really? I guess time does fly by. Anyways I wear this all day, it provides good airflow, but I’m guessing this is not appropriate attire by his reaction….” You eyed Jacaerys if this was perhaps the first time he has seen calves and ankles on a woman before. That thought made you giggle. He’d faint if he saw the shorts for women’s sports. “Well I came to ask the maids to deliver me breakfast or I suppose lunch now. I do have a lot of work to do.”
“Breaking your fast? At this hour?” Baela asked and you gave a little annoyed sigh. You always ate late due to pressing matters. (Stupid genetic problems.)
“Yeah, they got me slavin’ me away. The work I’m doing right now takes priority and I’m allowing myself a small break to eat a bit.” You complained. You’d talk anyone’s ear off if given the chance about how much you didn’t want to do that stupid little genetic equation.
“Okay well… if you see any maids.” You snapped while pointing at them both with a small smile. “Send 'em my way.” You then pointed to yourself and with that, you turned around and went back into your room.
Finally happy with the fan in your room you sat down going back to the genetic problem. However, before you even picked up your writing utensil you promptly dropped giving a loud groan. “Argh! I don’t want to do this.” You said to no one before leaning back on the hard chair. “I’m actually not gonna do this, I’m gonna try something else.” You sighed and stood up not bothering to close the equations. Not like anyone could understand it at first glance. Hell even when you looked at it you got lost, and you made it!
You didn’t bother writing out the names and only followed the main branch of the family. What it looked like was a whole bunch of random letters with squares and some math. Total mumbo jumbo to anyone else. At least you hope, you know Otto assigned illiterate maids to you, that man really did think of everything, and no one else ever came into your room aside from Otto and Alicent who would look and give a hum before leaving. You doubted they understood this. Besides the initials of the family blended in with the punnet squares.
The door opened and there stood a maid who looked like she was shaking. You raised a brow. You never had maids before but quickly came to understand that people here saw them less than human. Therefore, due to never having maids, you treated them fairly well, why this one was shaking you couldn’t say. “Bring me more bed covers. The white thin ones, a needle and thread, and bring me something to eat.” But alas you had bigger problems than a maid who looked scared of you. If anything, a fearsome reputation was better here. “Remember no meat, preferably vegetables and fruits washed with boiled water.” You didn’t trust the meat here, there was no refrigerator to keep the meat fresh and that meant bacteria. Now you were rarely one to get sick but your immune system, you reckon, was a lot weaker here and you were vulnerable to any sickness so keeping yourself healthy and clean was paramount especially because modern medicine didn’t exist here.
While the fan was nice you definitely wanted a cooler spot and you also needed a cold place to sleep so that you could cuddle into your blankets, relishing in your own body heat. For that, you were going to create a little pod that would have a constant flow of cool air.
Soon that scared little maid from before came with bed sheets and a needle and thread. You smiled and walked over to her, going to take the things from her. Your hand brushed her hands and she flinched away before apologizing profusely. Alright that was doing a bit much. “What is it? Why are you scared?”
She shook her head incessantly. Your patience was thinning and you tossed the things onto your bed. “You either tell me why you’re scared or I’m gonna give you a reason to be really scared of me.”
“They say you are rabid.” She spoke and looked like she was gonna start crying. This girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old.
“Whaaaat?” Your brow lifted and you tilted your head looking at the girl.
“They saw your mouth foaming every morning when the maids come to take away the bowls you have every morning. Not only that but they all claim you are mad as well. The mysterious symbols on the paper and of course you spend ample time talking to yourself and some even claim that being around you for too long makes them go mad as well as they can hear melodies coming from your room and then they begin humming the melody.” The maid spoke.
You looked her up and down giving a slow blink and your mouth was open. No way, they're going to claim you are a witch! “Seriously?” You asked the young maid nodded feverishly.
You scoffed and laughed. “What’s your name?” You asked with a grin on your face.
“Dyana if it pleases m’lady.” She spoke out quickly while keeping her eyes on the floor.
“Oh, like Wonder woman.” You commented looking her up and down and she had a confused expression on her face. “Well Dyana, let me show you something.” Your bowl of water was still here when you pulled out your toothbrush. “This is a toothbrush, it is to clean your teeth.” You gave a wide grin to give her a good look at your white clean teeth. “My teeth are in much better condition than everyone here and I’m sure my breath smells better, at least I hope. Does it?” You tilted your head with a brow raised.
Dyana nodded and you smiled. “Okay now look here, this is toothpaste.” You showed her the tube and squeezed a very small glob out. You already brushed your teeth today and your supply was limited. You made a mental note to discover how to create toothpaste. “Okay now you wet it and,” You began brushing your teeth and you saw Dyana’s eyes widen as white foam started to form on your teeth. “See?” You spoke with a mouth full. You spit it into the water and then began fully brushing your teeth. Once you were done you cleaned your face and rinsed your toothbrush.
“I’m not rabid, I’ll have you know I am fully vaccinated. This is just part of me keeping clean. Along with that, people and animals with rabies are hydrophobic.” Dyana only stared and you gave a disappointed sigh. You can’t blame her for being uneducated but it got to a certain point where you were tired of explaining basic things. “Hydrophobia means one has an irrational fear of water and cannot physically consume it or even touch it. I would’ve died by now if I was rabid. The human body can only go about two days without water and as you can see it’s been well over a week.”
She nodded trying to understand. “It’s in the name. Hydro is derived from the Latin root of the word "hydro" is hydr-, which comes from the Greek word hýdōr, meaning "water" then there's phobia meaning fear which is also derived from Latin as well and there is also a Greek version. Though that one is phobos which is fear in old greek. So if you put both together you get hydrophobia. Yeah?” You nodded trying to explain this to her and to your surprise she seemed very interested. Though a small hint of confusion clouded her face.
“Latin and greek?” She asked almost like tasting the words on her tongue.
“Yes, Latin is a base language forming other languages like Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian, Catalan, and Romanian among others. It also is in some English or what you all call the common tongue. I just happen to be fluent in one the latin based language and so then that leads me to be very familiar with other latin based languages like the ones I just listed.” As you explained Dyana’s attention was on you absorbing everything you said like a sponge. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
“So how many tongues do you speak?” Dyana asked and you gave a smug smile. “Fluently, two, but I can carry basic conversations in French, Portuguese, and Italian.” It was a point of pride for you.
“Very impressive m’lady. The royal family and the Valeryrons also speak another tongue, one from old Valyria. Majority speak Valyrian, like they do in the free cities.”
“Hm, I wonder what the base language is for it.” You nodded looking around the room. “Well did you have the kitchen prepare my food?”
“Oh yes m’lady. Another maid should bring it.” Dyana responded by letting herself out.
“No. I want you to bring it to me, Dyana. From now on, I only want you in my service. I will show you new things, if you want extra payment. Knowledge, especially here, is invaluable.” If everyone thought you were mad you couldn’t risk anyone messing with your food. Besides you didn’t know how hygienic the other maids were, at least you could teach Dyana basic hygiene and maybe she could spread it. You heard maids always gossiped.
…
A scream woke up and you shot up shivering and wrapping your warm blanket around you but all you saw was white. “M’lady!” Dyana ran to you looking inside your little make-shift pod.
“What is Dyana!? What is this madness!?” It was your first night trying out your latest invention. It had surprisingly taken you quite a while to sow everything tight enough so that now air would escape from the back or the sides.
“Please forgive me m’lady I was simply surprised to see..this.” She gestured to your little pod. It must’ve looked strange seeing a white thing and not seeing you. Sighing you shook your head, though you quickly got out of bed to start preparing yourself for today.
As you were brushing your teeth you told Dyana to prepare a carriage for the dragon pit.
“Why are you going to the dragon pit m’lady?” You looked up to her and smiled foam covering your mouth.
“I’m going to go claim my winnings, Dyana and perhaps the favor of a Prince.” You spit and rinse your mouth.
“Do you need help dressing?” Dyana looked concerned looking towards you. She hadn’t had the best experience with the one prince she had worked for, though you didn’t know that. She hoped it wasn’t Aegon that you were meeting.
“No, but once you’re done arranging for a carriage or horse, it doesn't matter, bring me a cloak.” You ordered and Dyana bowed as you began preparing yourself for the day. Doing light makeup and taking out the only other outfit you had in your suitcase. Pulling out black capris and a brown sleeveless halter top with a draped neckline you smiled. If this went right, you’d score more than the spoils of a bet.
Fixing the small bits of hair you looked at yourself through your hand mirror. A shame they didn’t have bigger mirrors. You heard a gasp from behind and you saw Dyana with a black cloak in her hands. “M’lady, are you sure you should go out dressed in such a manner?”
“He told me to come in pants and I haven’t washed my other pants yet.” You shrugged, took your coat and slipped on the only shoes you had which were some sandals that you wore the day you fell off that bridge. Goosebumps coated your body as you thought about the unfortunate events that took place that day.
“Okay Dyana take me to the carriage. When you come back, clean my room, but don’t touch the desk, also please wash the sheets and once you’re done take the rest of the day off and when I return we can resume your lessons. If you finish before I’m back then feel free to continue learning the basics of English literature or simply relax, okay?” You spoke as you both walked to the courtyard where your ride was waiting.
As you stepped outside you gagged. “God it smells like shit.” Taking out a small perfume bottle you always kept on you, you sprayed some on the collar of the cloak so that you could smell it while you rode through the city. Walking to the carriage you covered your nose while the coachman greeted you. You have a smile but you doubt he saw it.
“M’lady.” He opened the door for you and you nodded speaking out a muffled thank you. As you sat in the carriage you closed all the windows and kept your nose covered but as it moved you began to feel sick. The smell and not being able to see that you were moving were doing a real number on your motion sickness. You heard the clattering outside and you wished you could go faster.
You simply closed your eyes trying to recenter yourself and inhaling the perfumed cloak. It was the longest thirty minutes of your life. The door opened and instead of the smell of feces it now smelled like a cow farm.
“Good Lord! Is there anywhere that smells just normal?” You muttered out making your way out. As you stood a wave of nausea hit you like a bus and you gagged once more. A hand extended and you took it. You looked up towards Jacaerys and he gave a smile while greeting you. You’d return it but you turned around before you could and gagged once more, only there was nothing to throw up as you gripped the side of the carriage.
Damn medieval times.
“Yeah, just uh…give me a second,” You gagged again. Desperately you wanted to throw something up to get rid of this headache that was starting to form. “Sorry, motion sickness, and the city doesn’t exactly smell the best.” You reassured him.
“You’d like it better on Dragon Stone.” He spoke in a low-tone and your brows shot up, not that he could see and if it wasn’t for you trying to throw up you’d say something back to encourage his implications. Instead all you could offer was a small hum before composing yourself and turning around facing him with a smile as you took off your hood.
Time to focus, you were winning this bet and reaping your reward. “Sorry. Okay now, let's go see that wager.” Jacaerys offered his hand with a smile and you took it. You walked to the Dragon pit.
“I want you to meet my dragon, Vermax.” You fought scoffing. Yes, it would be cool to see a komodo dragon but come on, if that was the best he could offer you so had this in the bag. Though you were quickly made to eat your words as the ground shook below you and your jaw dropped as a big olive-green with orange frills and orange eyes walked out from the dark pit. The only thing you could say was ask the most obvious question with the most obvious answer.
“IS THAT A DRAGON!?”
“It is my lady.” Jacaerys let go of your hand walking to his dragon as it bumped its snout against Jacaerys. You stood still unable to process what you were seeing. This was a dragon, a real dragon. With wings and everything. Your words were caught in your throat and you felt like crying. It was overwhelming and you didn’t know what you were feeling. You felt your eyes water just a bit before blinking them away.
Jacaerys frowned and quickly went to your side to ask if you were alright. As he stood next to you, you were quick to smell the dragon’s scent on him, but honestly that was the last thing on your mind. “Are you crying? I do apologize to my lady, I swear it, he will not harm you. We can leave if you’d like.”
“No! No, it’s just, that.. that’s a dragon!” You looked towards it with a smile. “A real dragon, like with…like, like, like with wings and, and…wait! Can it breathe fire?” You asked him and the smile on Jacaerys’s face said it all.
He pulled you to the side. “Vermax! Dracarys!” You watched in awe as the dragon breathed hot flames that you felt the heat even if the dragon was blowing them in the air.
You laughed looking towards Jace who shared your smile. “Oh my god!? Oh my goodness! This is- wha-!?” Words escaped you. You didn’t know how to describe this. “I fear the words I feel right now have not yet been invented.”
“Yes, a dragon certainly makes for quite a sight.” He laughed as he held you close to him making sure Vermax knew not to harm you.
“Quite a sight!? No this is- this is! I can’t even say!” You tore yourself from Jacaerys’s grip and you turned to face him with a smile. “Y’know, imma pretty sore loser and I don’t admit defeat often, but this-” You turned around gesturing to his dragon. “I reckon you might just have me beat.”
“I thought you had dragons,” He spoke with a smug smile on his face but at this moment you couldn’t bring yourself to comment on it.
“Not like this. This is something straight outta a fairy tale.” You smiled looking towards the majestic creature. When you first woke here, you saw silhouettes but you thought you were just hallucinating. It was unthinkable that dragons were real. You paused to think. If dragons existed here, then what else was here in this world. Was there actual magic here? There was so much to learn!
“I was going to take you on dragonback. Of course if you-” Jacaerys coaxed you looking down towards you.
“Say no more, say no more, say no more,” You spoke rapidly. “How do I get on?” You smiled towards him. Like hell you’d miss the chance to ride a dragon.
“Are you sure you are ready for it?” Jacaerys offered you a chance to back out. Were you scared of heights? Yes, but this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If you fell, you’d die happy or maybe you’d get sent back home. Either way, no way you were missing this chance.
“You could even take me Dragon Stone and show me why I’d like it more than here.” You offered with a teasing smile to encourage him. You saw him stiffen just a bit before giving a small shy smile and nodding.
Walking behind you he took your hand extending it to the dragon. You closed your eyes looking away as you kept your hand out. You felt like Hiccup from How to Train a Dragon.
You felt warm scales on your hand. Opening your eyes looking into the orange eyes. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you rubbed the dragon, a smile growing on your face.
“Hi,” You spoke in a sweet tone like you did to all animals that you came across. “Hi baby,” You stepped closer pressing yourself against the dragon petting it and giving small scratches where dogs usually enjoyed it and you felt your body rumble as the dragon let out a sound. You gave a giggle, mumbling out praises in Spanish with a baby voice. You had forgotten Jacaerys was behind you until you heard a little laugh and you cringed.
Damn!
Your face felt hot as you felt shame creep up on you. You cleared your throat giving one more pat before turning around. “Okay… you didn’t see that.” You walked away from him and Jacaerys followed.
“I’m afraid I did, My Lady.” He spoke with a smile and you rolled your eyes.
“Kay, let's not. Now how do I get on?” You spoke trying to erase the embarrassing moment away.
“Here my lady.” He climbed up the dragon helping you up. You sat behind him looking around for any kind of safety measure and to your displeasure there wasn’t any. Listen, yes you had just said you’d be fine dying but that doesn’t mean you wanted to.
“Where are the seatbelts?” You asked him and he turned to you, raising a brow.
“Seatbelt?” He laughed out loud. He didn't know what those were.
“Safety measures?” You tried again only to be met with the same look.
You sighed. Of course that didn’t exist yet, but they had to stay on somehow. “How do you stay on?”
“You hold on tight.” He gave a grin.
“What!?” And before you could register Vermax moved forward. You gave a scream and hugged Jacaerys’s waist holding yourself close to him. “This is barbaric!” You yelped out and the only response you got was his laugh.
“Soves Vermax.” Jacaerys called and you recognized the wording it sounded similar to some word that you know meant fly. As Vermax continued forward and opened his wings, you definitely now knew what the word meant.
You groaned as the wind pushed against you and you felt gravity push you down as Vermax lifted himself into the sky. You gripped Jacaerys clothes as hard as you could and suddenly your cloak flew off.
“Oops!” You turned and watched your cloak fly off in the distance. “Oh well…” You murmured turning back and pressing the side of your face on Jacaerys back.
You felt him look back towards you. He saw your face pressed against him as your eyes were squinted trying to adjust to the harsh wind.
“Not many can keep their eyes open on their first flight.” He spoke as Vermax finally steadied in the air.
You furrowed your brows looking up towards him. “You’ve brought other women up here with you before?”
Jacaerys stiffened and shook his head. “No.”
“Then how do you know?” You asked him.
“When I first took my brother Joffrey up with me, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.” He responded with a smile recalling the memory.
“Oh.” It was all you said before resting your face against him once more looking down towards the ocean. “How far is Dragon Stone?” You asked and he leaned back looking towards you again.
“Not far on Dragonback but about a week's trip on ship.” He responded, turning back to steer Vermax up again to feel you hold on to him tighter. It was a little mischievous but he figured no one else was around to see, so it was fine.
Finally breaking through the clouds you let out a sound of wonder looking through the clouds. “Yeah I think you might’ve just won this wager.”
Jacaerys only responded with a laugh.
You inhaled the clean air. Much better than King’s Landing. “It is better up here. Fresher…” You breathed out a jittery breath. “But colder.” You missed your cloak.
“We’ll be there soon.” Jacaerys spoke and you hummed and nodded trying to take in the rays of sun trying to ignore the cold air.
For the flight you both stayed quiet as you took in his body heat trying to warm yourself. The sight was truly breath-taking.
“We’re here.” You heard Jacaerys speak and you looked over his shoulder seeing the grand castle.
“Woah, nice place.” You commented but you felt your stomach drop as you saw Vermax’s head angle itself down. “Wait wait wait!” You screamed as Vermax dove. Just as you dove, you felt him steady out and you shook as Vermax landed. “Oh god,” You breathed out as you kept your tight grip on Jacaerys even though Vermax had now landed.
A cold gust of wind chilled you. You regret wearing this sleeveless halter top. You don’t how long you stayed attached to Jacaerys before he asked if you were okay. You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you only nodded into his back.
“Ready to get down?” He asked and once more you nodded. He slid down Vermax’s wing landing on a soft patch of grass. As he looked up his breath hitched. Once again Jacaerys looked away while helping you down.
He heard a laugh from you and turned to you. “Don’t be such a prude, they’re just clothes.” You flicked his forehead and he rubbed it when you turned away as Vermax flew away.
“So this is Dragon Stone?” You asked, looking around. He had taken you to the highest point of Dragon Stone away from the actual castle. He’d rather his mother didn’t find out about this little flight you two took. Daemon already didn’t like you and his mother was skeptical of you ever since you showed up that night in a green dress.
“It is. Do you like it?” He mumbled as he stood behind you. He saw you nod and turn to him with a smile. You looked quite nice today, even if your hair was messy from the wind and your clothes brought up a feeling he’d rather not look into.
“I do. You were right, this place is much better than King’s Landing. Smells a lot better here.” You sat down on the grass looking towards the sea and he saw your face drop a bit.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting next to you.
“I came here by sea. Sometimes I wonder if I can go back by sea.” You spoke never facing him.
“You want to go back?” Jacaerys asked and you turned to him with furrowed brows.
“Why wouldn’t I? I miss my home, my family, my friends, and there was a guy I was pining after too.’ You purse your lips nodding looking at him.
Once again another emotion Jacaerys would rather not name came up when you mentioned you wanted to be courted by someone else. This was wrong. He was promised to Baela. He shouldn’t feel this way, he shouldn’t have brought you here. Though Jacaerys could not find it in him to regret bringing you here.
He sighed and turned away from you. “What is..your home like?” Would it hurt to know more about you? No he doesn’t think so. (Yes it does.)
You smiled. “My home is…very different from here. We don’t have dragons for one.” You giggled out. “But we have airplanes and cars. Modern technology I think would really shock you.” You turned to him only to find him already facing you. This time however, Jacaerys did not look away from you and all of a sudden you felt your face grow hot. You coughed out a laugh. “Obviously as you can see our clothes are different and our music is different and we have movies and TV shows.”
“What are cars and airplanes, and movies and TV shows?” He asked. They were words he never heard before but was eager to learn.
“Well…” For the next couple of hours you both spent speaking to each other about where you came from and explaining how your modern life was. Everything from schooling systems, water systems, judicial systems, the government and of course spoke about global issues such as wars and global warming.
“It sounds…complicated.” Was all he could say. Weapons of war that could wipe out an entire city four times the size of King’s Landing, cities that housed millions of people, the planet heating up too fast, and the obvious power struggle between countries among other things you mentioned. Of course there were also the good things such as it smelled a lot better where you came from due to ‘sewer systems’ and proper hygiene.
“It is and sometimes it is overwhelming thinking of it. It takes a lot to make an impact in the world now, but it’s what I want to do. That’s why I have to go back. I need to continue my schooling so that I can specialize in a field and perhaps one day develop something new that will have my name in history books and something will make me a lot of money.” You smiled towards the end of your sentence.
“Can’t you do that here?” He mumbled out looking away from you. “The King already looks much better since you’ve arrived.” It was wrong, he shouldn’t try to convince you to stay here. You had a home and that was where you belonged, though a part of him wished to see you here. He was curious about you and for now that was all Jacaerys was willing to admit.
He began to grow nervous as you stayed silent. Perhaps he had offended you. “I apologize my lady, I misspoke-”
“No—you’re right.” You cut him off looking towards him and slowly a smile grew on your face. “Here, I can…I can change everything. If I change the course of time, I can start feminism early! I can name the Roman water system after me and no one would think anything of it!” You leaned over to Jacaerys and grabbed his shoulders with a grin. “Do you know what this means!?”
He only blinked towards looking towards you trying to process your touch on him and of course your words. “I can basically be Barbie!” You let go of him and covered your mouth. “Why haven't I thought of this before!? I’d be like a legend here! The things I can make! Pray tell I’m not the best at plans but…just maybe,” Yes you wanted to go home, but the chance you could make a big change was less likely there. But here! Here you could be whatever you wanted because you could make the rules here, all you would need is a position of power and influence. Make good deeds with commoners and you’d become one of the most important figures of history while being a woman. Big plus for feminism and while it wouldn’t all change in one life-time, if you can plant the seed here and now, there's no telling the impact it will have in the future and it would be all because of you.
Jacaerys watched you go deep into thought and while he didn't know what a ‘Barbie’ was or feminism he did know that he no longer felt guilty for bringing you here if it convinced you to stay.
“You’re a genius, Jacaerys , you know that?” You asked him, smiling. “You just gave this place the best gift you could ever give. It’ll for sure elevate the opinion of the common people for you since you’re in line for the throne. I’m going to introduce so many things! Mendelian genetics? No genetics! Darwinism? No, me-ism, I’m gonna name everything after me!” You smiled. “I’ll probably have to get creative so that not everything sounds the same, like Alexander the Great did with the library of Alexandria and all those other cities. Yes…”
Jacaerys smiled and stood up offering his hand to you. “It is getting late, perhaps we should return to King’s Landing.” He watched you put on a bit.
“I don’t wanna go back yet. I like it here, it’s cold and well the air is cleaner.” You looked up towards him as you laid back onto the floor looking at the darkening skies as the stars became visible. “The stars are never this clear where I come from…” You trailed off looking up with a small smile. Jacaerys sighed and laid down beside you looking towards the stars that became more visible by the minute.
“We’ll get in trouble if we don’t return soon.” Jace spoke and while he would rather stay here, he’d rather not have his mom ask him questions about why he was with you.
You turned to him with a smile on your face and you touched his hair that was becoming overgrown. “You should keep growing out your hair, it looks better longer.” Jacaerys breath hitched as he felt your cold fingertips lightly graze his forehead. He watched you smile once more before looking back up towards the stars.
He coughed and looked away from you.
Jacaerys doesn’t know how long you both stayed laid out on the grass watching the stars. It was only when he felt his eyes closing that he realized how long had passed as he now registered how dark it was. He jerked his head over to you seeing that your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow. He called your name a couple of times before you finally opened your eyes.
“Hm?” You looked over as your eyes adjusted to the dark. You began stretching and took a deep breath of the clean air before relaxing once more looking up at the starry night.
“It’s really late…” Jacaerys whispered.
“Oh yeah…” You sat up looking around. You took in a shaky deep breath. It was cold. “Welp let's go back.”
“You’re not worried?” He asked as you both walked down the mountain.
“No, why would I?” You were a little, surly Otto and Alicent would have questions.
“What others would think about you being out so late with a man. Rumors spread when an unmarried man and woman are together.” He walked next to you seeing you shiver just a little. He was unsure if he should give you his coat, after the comment he just made.
You shrugged. “Let them speak. What does it matter? You’re a prince and I am someone who they will never hope to reach. If I began to care what others thought of me, then I would not be someone who is ready for the success I am to bring here.”
Finally you reached Vermax.
“Naejott Vermax” He spoke and you looked over. That’s right, Dyana had told you Targeyens spoke a different language.
“Is that Valyrian?” You asked as Vermax came closer to you both.
Jacaerys nodded. “Do you speak it?”
“I think I could recognize some words.” You smiled up at him as you grabbed onto Vermax taking in his warmth.
“Can you?” Jacaerys challenged.
“I’m pretty good at Latin languages, give me your best shot.” You grinned. Surely if you could recognize ‘songs’ you’d do pretty good.
“Rytsas.” Jacaerys spoke and your confidence went down slightly. You had no idea what that meant.
“I need a sentence.” You tired again, no way you’d get something from just a word.
“Ñuho lento naejot guēse rōvēgrie issa.” Jacaerys spoke once more with a smile.
“Damn…gotta stop setting myself up for failure.” You mumbled. Thankfully it was dark so he wouldn’t be able to see your shame creeping onto your face. “...I don’t know.” You tried to give a little laugh at the end.
“The first phase was hello and the second I was telling you that there was a big tree in front of my home.” He laughed starting to take off his coat seeing as you were clinging to Vermax for dear life trying to warm yourself.
“Never would’ve guessed.” You gave a smile trying to keep yourself from shivering.
“Here,” Jacaerys offered you his coat and though you wanted to take it, it felt wrong.
“You’d be cold then,” You objected.
“I have more layers on.” He reasoned and nodded as you took the coat, wrapping it around yourself.
“Can I go in front this time?” You asked as you climbed onto Vermax.
He gave a hum thinking it over before nodding. “I’ll be steering though.”
“That’s fine, I just want to be in front.” You nodded as Jacaerys sat behind you and suddenly he began to regret letting you sit in front. He would have to reach over you to keep a hold of Vermax meaning he would have to lean on top of you, but it was too late to say anything.
He leaned over you and you bent forward consequently pressing your backside against him. He gave a cough trying to cover the groan. He’s never even been this close to a woman, much less in this position. It was going to be a rough ride home.
…
“Thank you, it was nice.” You whispered out as you both snuck back into Red Keep. You both stood still in a dark corner to avoid being seen by anyone who roamed the halls. Jacaerys nodded fast hoping to leave his room and fast. He had grown painfully hard as the ride kept you snuggly against him and honestly it was starting to hurt. Though a part of his hopes you felt him against you.
Looking down towards you while you were in his coat and smell of his dragon with your sweet scent tangled with each other, his mind was quickly becoming clouded with lust. Perhaps that is why he spoke in such a bold manner. “You told me you’d give me anything, no? As for our deal?” He whispered out looking around.
He watched you smile. “You haven’t seen my surprise yet.”
“I thought you said I won?” He breathed heavily clenching his fists trying to keep himself in check.
“You still haven’t seen it, tell you what though, tomorrow night, come to my chambers and I’ll show you. I’ll make it worth your time.” You smiled and walked unknowing you left him with a very big problem to solve when he got to his own chambers.
Note: This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Also pls keep asking me things I quite enjoy responding to them!
