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ignyxdaughter · 2 years

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𝐗𝐈𝐕 - 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄

(𝐦𝐨𝐛 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬! 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬)

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summary: Katherine has to talk to people from the past. Her and Billy have a loving moment at the end :)

word count: 4174

warnings: none

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

There's a whole minute of silence between us. I analyze every detail of Katrina. Last time I saw her, she was with short hair on its natural color — light brown — and a frown that reminded Tissaia's arrogance and Andrew's hate towards the whole world. But now Katrina has light on her face; her blue-green eyes are shining and she doesn't seem the same spoiled girl I know — though she's still wearing fancy clothes.

For the first time, Katrina Eloise Morris looks like a good person.

"You're different", she says.

"You too."

Her smile catches me off guard. She's never smiled towards me. "I changed for better, I think, and I wanna talk to you about it." I raise an eyebrow and she looks at the men by our sides. "Alone."

No. I glance Billy, praying for him to notice my despair. No. No! I don't want it!

My heart sinks when he nodded and let go of my arm. "I'll have a talk with Cypress, then." When the albino capo opens his mouth to talk, Billy adds: "But with you two on my sight."

"Fair enough." Cypress faces Katrina. "Go to the opened hallway, amore mio. We'll be looking at you from here."

She smiles and grabs my good arm, pushing me to the spoken place. I keep glancing back at Billy while being guided, silently screaming for help. But why would he help me? I'm his hostage, a mere pawn on his game. For him, it doesn't matter if I'm hurt; he just wants me alive till we find Katarina and solve the case. He may even kill me later to avoid any living evidence.

He won't dare to do that. I shake my head to gather my thoughts. You're a Mikaelson.

But what if he finds out my family doesn't want me anymore? Will he attack or have mercy?

No. Billy's smart; he wouldn't have mercy.

"So", Katrina's voice makes me finally come back to reality. "Here we are, sis."

"What do you want, Katrina?"

"To apologize." I scoff. The day my sister regrets everything she's ever done to me, it'll also be the day when pigs will fly. "I mean it."

My serious face is long gone when I laugh. That can't be true.

"Katherine! I really mean it!" She exclaims in indignation, which just makes me chuckle more.

"Oh, Katrina, when did you join comedy?" I giggle, almost having a belly ache from laughing so hard. "You really should do a stand up. It's been years I haven't heard a good one."

Her expression is stern, the mirror of someone gathering patience to not punch someone. And she knows better than to attempt that. "I really mean it, Katherine! I've been horrible to you."

It takes me a few seconds to realize she's telling the truth. I take some breaths to compose myself and look deep at her eyes for a moment, trying to see if this isn't an act. But no; this is indeed the truth.

"I know." My sister uncomfortably gazes the floor in shame. "Years ago I wouldn't believe me either. But I've changed. I really have."

"That doesn't erase everything you've done— or better, haven't done with me."

"I won't try to justify myself, 'cause there isn't any reasonable reason." She looks at me. "But I want you to know that I'm sorry."

I bite my tongue to avoid a fight in the middle of this event. What Katrina's saying doesn't make sense. She was never like that, a good person, so why change it now?

"Why?" I ask her. "Why telling me this now?"

"I— I don't know, but maybe it's to be forgiven, to end the guilt. Even if I realized I was wrong just a few years ago, at least I noticed!" I stay silent, analyzing each movement to detect a lie. Her little speech seems like a perfect trap, one that I won't allow myself to fall for.

She lets out a deep breath. "I found out how mom and dad left people. They were good and suffered because of us." I can't believe I'm hearing that.

It takes everything in my will to not roll my eyes. "How do you think they were left, Katrina? Happy for being poor? Enlighted for being fooled by a couple and some kids? Heartwarming for helping a scammer family?!"

"No! I— I knew they wouldn't be happy, but at least they had each other. All of them were an united family, not a broken one like ours."

"Yours", she closes her eyes as I correct her. "You are not my family."

My sister sighs and stays silent about the correction. Good. She knows better than to argue that with me. "I didn't know at the time what people would do for money, Kat."

"Oh, you didn't? It'd take just a look at your parents to find that out. After all, their money appeared out of nowhere." I look deeply at her blue-green eyes, gathering all of her attention. "I don't blame them for being on the criminal world, Katrina, but I do hate them for being cowards. Because only a coward would steal from the good instead of being face to face with another criminal."

"I know!" She sniffs and quickly passes a hand on her nose to not mess her makeup. "And that's why I told the latest family to call the police after I left. They had a little boy and— and it was the first time we went to a family with a kid. I couldn't let a kid suffer."

"Did they call the police?"

Katrina nods. "They're good now, but our—", she shakes her head, remembering to correct herself "— my family spent the night in jail."

"When was this?"

"6 years ago." She was 20, then. "I started working on a restaurant to gain my own honest money and rented a flat with a rommate. That's actually where I met Cypress... I was having my night shift when he entere—" Oh, bloody hell!

"I'm not here for a love story, Katrina."

My sister nods, yet gives a little scoff. "Yeah. Yeah, of course you aren't."

"Does Katarina talk to you?"

She bites her bottom lip. "None of them talk to me anymore. Dad and mom cut me off that night, and a year ago Rina did the same." I keep looking at her for an explanation, but I guess she didn't want me to have a richer boyfriend."

I raise an eyebrow. That's such an immature reason to cut someone off, though Katarina is exactly that kind of person. "So she stopped talking to you because you started dating Cypress?"

"Seeing. I wasn't even dating him yet!" I roll my eyes. "But she was dating Billy!"

Hum... Maybe this conversation won't be a total failure.

"She used to tell me how he was handsome and rich and good in bed—"

"Katrina, I'm not here to praise Russo either."

"Okay!" She throws her hands in the air. "What I want to say is that she told me about the scam. She wanted him to give mom money to invest on the stock exchange. That way, mom'd already have enough on her company when Rina left Billy."

"Company?"

"Yeah. She has a loan company. That way she's access of other people accounts to steal their money."

"Oh, that's so her."

My sister nods. "From what Rina told me, she and dad broke up and now she has a lover. Aaron LeBlanc, I think."

I shiver at the thought of someone loving Tissaia. That woman doesn't deserve anything good in this world. "And Katarina? Where's her?"

"She said she'd go to London. But I'd search on Amsterdam too."

I frown. "Why?"

Katrina shrugs. "She just loves that place. You know, the green."

"Well, now it makes sense why Katarina's brain is so damaged."

She chuckles, what makes me raise a brow at her. "Your lungs are as damaged as her brain."

"So is your liver."

Her laugh increases with my statement. "A pothead, an alcoholic and a smoker. What a wonderful trio mom birthed." Ok, maybe this was a little bit funny. But I won't join Katrina at that joke.

"We're not a trio."

She stops laughing to face me with a regretful expression. "I know. And you have every right to hate us, but, please, know that I do regret. I changed, Kat. I really did, and I don't blame you for not forgiving me."

I look at her blue-green irises to make myself clear to her. "I recognize your change, Katrina. But I can't forget everything with a conversation."

My sister nods. "I wanna help you to find Rina though."

"In exchange of my forgiveness?"

She shrugs. "I wanna end the guilt."

I narrow my eyes at her, scamming every detail on her to not fall on a trap. "And will you not feel guilty of betraying Katarina?"

"Not when she doesn't want my happiness."

After a few seconds, I finally nod. "Tell me everything, then."

────────── ★★★ ──────────

"Must've been a good talk", Billy says when we come back to the men. They're seated on comfortable white chairs; Cypress is with a cigarette while Billy and another man drink whisky. I know the latter from some old business. He didn't change much on the outside, and I suppose his dirty inside is still the same. After all, Viktor Orlov is from the Russian mafia since he was born.

"We had some issues to solve", I say as taking a chair to seat.

Viktor smirks, well aware of my relation with my biological family. "Good to know you're friends now." We aren't.

A waiter appears with champagne glasses, and I happily take one. Alcohol can help me a lot tonight, yet a cigarette would be better. "I'll then assume you are making some friends too."

The Russian man passes a hand on his blonde hair, an habit he's always had. "Of course! Actually, Billy was just telling us how you two met! Though I don't imagine any of you at a museum."

I control the urge to roll my eyes.

"What?! I totally imagine Kat at one." All eyes go to Katrina, who's on Cypress' lap. "Last time we saw each other, she was doing history in Harvard!"

How the hell does she remember that?

Viktor's jaw drops in shock. "You studied history?!"

I smirk at his face, suppressing a laugh. "Surprised?"

"It's just so... weird." I raise an eyebrow at him. "So different from you."

"That's because you don't know me, Orlov."

"Katherine", Billy's looking at me like a hawk "may I talk to you?" Nodding, I excuse myself from the crowd and accompany Billy to an isolated corner. "What did you two talk about?"

I take a sip of champagne before answering: "Katarina's in London or Amsterdam. She robbed you to get money for Tissaia's company."

"But her company's of loan." I nod. "She got all kinds of accounts to rob. So why wanting my money?"

"For more money, of course. Tissaia's never satisfied, nothing is enough for her."

Billy frowns, probably solving the puzzle on his head. "No, there's more that we don't know."

I scoff at his skepticism. That man simply can't stand that he was fooled, that Katarina planned to leave him since the beginning, and not the other way around. However, as time passes, Billy's confused face suddenly changes to a smirk, realization hitting every inch of him.

Uh oh. This isn't going to lead us to any good.

This is a victorious grin, one that express his contentment for finding out what happened between him and his ex. It's clear that Billy's just discovered my sister's weakness.

"She's in debt."

A tired sigh escapes my lips. I really don't have time for this paranoia. "Billy—"

"Her mom's already had money when she started dating me. She could've choose any NY rich man but she chose me!"

"So?"

His dark brown eyes are shining when he looks at me. "Rina's not dumb—"

I chuckle. Is this a joke? "I beg to differ."

"She knew I was from the mafia. She knew it, and that's why she wanted me: to have money and intimidate her enemies. It was killing two birds with one stone!" Oh, God, he is acting like a mad man. "We've to find out who's that enemy."

"Now?"

"Right. Fucking. Now."

Billy pulls me by the forearm so quickly that I gasp in pain and almost drop champagne on the floor. I feel my wound sting because of the muscle's stretch, which makes me stiff for a moment. But the Anvil CEO doesn't care; he leads me through the ballroom, probably searching for someone. After all, he wouldn't be crazy enough to leave a — criminal — business party so soon, which would certainly stain his reputation.

"W—What about Petrov?"

"We're goin' right to him."

After minutes of trying not to trip on my own gown and dodging the crowd of guests and waiters in the ballroom, Billy finally stops at the garden, a few inches away from 3 men talking to each other. I just know the tallest of them. His brown hair is thrown back with gel exactly like Billy's, his navy blue suit seems new, as if it was bought yesterday, and his tattooed hand holds a glass of vodka.

I analyze the tattoo on his hand. It wasn't there on our last meeting, though his hand was covered in blood. It's a lighthouse at sunset. For the Russian mafia, that means freedom.

"Petrov."

Kage's gaze turn to us, and a smirk forms on his lips as he sees the man by my side. "Oh my— Billy Russo!"

The Anvil CEO gestures to himself. "The one and only."

"What a wonderful surprise, my friend", although better, his Russian accent is still noticeable when he speaks english. "This is your girlfriend?"

"Oh, no!" I chuckle while Billy answers we're partners.

Kage narrows his hazel eyes at me, scamming every detail of my face. "You remember me of someone. What's your name?"

"Katherine Elizabeth Morris." My eyes go wide at the stone cold voice behind me, my whole body freezes and a shiver runs through my spine. It's been 3 years since I've heard that French accent, and at the last time, it was filled with rage. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

With closed eyes, I take a deep breath before making a spin to face the woman. She's stunning as always; half of her hair is tied down, letting the blonde curls fall on the red gown that contrasts with her pale skin. However, Michelle's light blue eyes gaze me with complete hate.

"Mich", her name almost sounds like a plead on my tongue.

"Michelle for you." Her correction breaks my already shattered heart. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" Oh my God, why have I just said? She's going to hate me even more for this!

"She's my girl", Kage's voice interrupts our conversation, but none of us turn to him. "Now how about all of us sit down and—"

"Actually we've gotta talk", Billy says. "Just the two of us."

"Right now?"

"Business doesn't wait, Petrov. Let's leave them on our sight while we solve some things."

He groans and faces Michelle. "It'll take a minute. Will you alright, sólnêchka?"

She nods. "Oui, mon amour."

It's obvious the annoyance on her face when she turns around to face me. It's been 3 years and my cousin hasn't forgiven me, which, honestly, I understand. And that's why I have to contain myself to not apologize to her and say everything that really happened on the night we last saw each other.

"So—", she huffs before I even finish my sentence, as if my voice was a disgusting sound to be heard by her ears "how are you doing?"

"How am I doing?" She repeats it out loud, questioning herself. "Let's see—"

Something good won't come out from her.

"I'm young and beautiful, rich and popular... I haven't seen you for years — which made miracles for my mental health—"

I take a deep breath to control the urge of slapping her. "Michelle—"

"And I've a handsome and loving caring boyfriend that you can't kill."

A punch would have been better than that. My heart sinks in my chest, her sharp words hitting me like a train.

The message couldn't be clearer: my life's better without you. Michelle hasn't just said that she doesn't want me, but that Kage — and her — will kill me if I ever lay a finger on him. But the worst part of all is that, although filled with rage, my cousin's right.

I've never been good enough for anyone. And I'll never be.

I'm nothing but a burden. Everyone's better without me.

"I want to apologize", I gulp in an attempt to avoid crying. "Not for Mason and his dead body, but for hurting you. It was never my intention."

"Wow—", her scoff lifts one of her blonde locks "you're so cynical, Katherine. More than I've ever thought."

"Michelle, I'm not being—"

"Ah, spare me your words! You kill my boyfriend, disappear for years and now is following me like a puppy as if nothing happened." She narrows her light blue eyes at me, pure hate inside them. "You're acting like a victim, something you sure aren't."

I chuckle at that. Is she really calling me the handler in this conversation? "I know I'm not the victim, Michelle."

"Oh, do you?"

"If I were doing what you're implying, I wouldn't be here apologizing to you again. So stop distorting my words."

"Ok, then." My cousin nods. "Say that you regret killing Mason and we can never discuss 'bout that again."

"And will we see each other again?"

She scoffs in annoyance. "What do you think?"

I sigh in frustration. God, she's more difficult than I remember. "You know I won't apologize for Mason, Mich—"

"You accused Mason of cheating on me, filled my head with your paranoias of the time, and then you killed him! How can you not regret that?!" She yells at me with widened eyes.

"Because he cheated on you and betrayed the family!" I raise my voice, all of my patience running out.

"That's your freaking paranoia!"

"Goddamn it, Michelle! I showed you the photos and all evidences that he wasn't as trustable as you'd thought. He didn't deserve you!"

"And you had to kill him for that?! You had to break my fucking heart?!"

"I did it for you, for the family! He tried to hurt us!"

"Mais tu m'as fait mal!" (But you hurt me!) "Tu as détruit mon bonheur à l'époque juste parce que tu n'étais pas heureux!" (You destroyed my happiness at the time just because you weren't happy!)

I go immediately still. Firstly because my cousin's speaking french, her native language; something she just do when she's losing her mind. Secondly due to an accusation I would never do it. If Michelle — or any of my cousins — knew of my mental breakdowns and all of emotions I kept to myself in order to help the family, she would've never said that.

"Don't you dare." I clench my teeth to control my rage. "I would never do that."

She scoffs, clearly not believing me. "Vous savez quoi, Katherine? Va te faire fou—" (You know what, Katherine? Go fuck your—)

"Alright, that's enough", Sorrel puts herself between us. "You kids had your fight, but now it's time to rest."

Behind my friend, I see Viktor holding Michelle in an attempt to calm her down. She's acting like the perfect victim as always. Nobody but her can make a mistake. She's the only one that can do whatever she wants despite all the consequences of her actions.

I'm used to that since we met as children, but sometimes it really gets on my nerves. And I really would've stayed calm if it wasn't for her wiping some tears away.

"You're crying?"

"Katherine—"

I completely ignore Sorrel's warning. "I'm the one with no family or place to call home and you're crying?!"

She's seeing red when she faces me, but I'm seeing that color too. Every part of my body wants to slap and punch her till she screams 'I'm sorry'. Michelle has the perfect life, with a dream job, alive parents, cousins that talk to her and a boyfriend. She should've been thanking for still being part of the family and being able to live that wonderful life. But no, she had to cry tears and act like the victim.

She points a finger at me with a psycho face. "Oh, tu n'oses pas." (Oh, don't you dare.)

"Oh, but I dare on the same way you'd the audacity to say I wanted to fuck up your life because I wasn't happy!" I yell at her, letting all of the feelings flow. "And you do want to know more? I've never been so miserable than nowadays. So congratulations for your perfect life. Try not to ruin it yourself—", I slowly approach her, well-aware of Viktor holding my cousin to not jump on me "because we both know you're very capable of that."

A strong grip on my arm almost makes me gasp in pain, however, I don't have time to compose myself because of the same person that is pulling me through the ballroom. Again. I don't need to look up to know it is Billy, to his face that must be stone cold right now.

He didn't let go of me until we reached the open-air parking lot of Cypress' mansion. His warm hands suddenly released my arm like he was disgusted of me, and although I know Billy's done this due to his anger, a tiny voice in my mind said that he truly was annoyed by everything that I am. My appearance and body, my personality and habits and even my skills.

Suprisingly, that thought hurt me straight on the heart, and, unfortunetly, the pain I'm feeling on my arm isn't enough to make me stop this thought.

"What the fucking hell was that?!" His scream makes me gulp for a second. "I try to talk to Petrov and you started to make a scene with his girlfriend?!"

"I tried my best—"

"Yet you fucking failed." I let out a yelp when he strongly grabs my arm again, right on the wound. "Next time you know someone, let me know to avoid you ruining everything like tonight!"

He increases the grip strenght, making me involutary back off of him to stop the pain. Suddenly, Billy's dark brown eyes changes from rage to regret.

Wait. Regret? I question. No, he would never feel that. I must be seeing things.

The Anvil's CEO, aka mob boss, sighs, which eases the tension on his shoulders. "Let's go home."

I slowly nod and follow when he starts walking to the car, the sound of gravel the only noise in the open-air parking. No one else's near us, all of employees on the gates or entrance of the mansion, and I thank God for that. It'd be more humiliating to get a scold with people looking and listening to us.

The ride to the penthouse is silent, with no stealing glances nor jokes. I look at the window the entire time, seeing a few drunken and homeless people walking around the cold NY streets. This helped me to forget Michelle's words, especially because I feel better after saying hurtful words to her too. It's true I'm upset, but at least I'm not alone in that.

However, there's one little thing that's been on my head the entire way to apartment and is indeed making me regret of what I said to the blonde French woman.

"I'm sorry", I say to Billy when he's taking his suit off.

"Huh?" He throws it on a chair and turns around. The moonlight going through the huge windows lets me see the slight frown on his face, since we haven't turned on any lights yet.

"I'm sorry for ruining the mission. I let my emotions take over my ratio." I sigh while approaching him. I want to look at his eyes to know I'm forgiven, to be sure he's not disgusted with me like on the mansion. "You're one of the only people I talk to now. Even when our talks aren't good, that's the truth, and I don't want to make our relationship any more difficult than it already is."

"Katheri—"

"Especially when I'm in debt with you... for helping my anaemia and wound."

"Katherine, it—"

"And yet I don't regret anyting about Michelle—" I'm interrupted by his lips collinding in mine, which makes me still in surprise for a moment, thinking if I'm dreaming.

But after realizing I'm not, I return the kiss and open my lips to let his tongue inside my mouth. My hands go to his neck while his arms wrape strongly around my waist, pulling me closer to him. A good sensation spreads through my body: there's a coil forming in my stomach, and my muscles relax while my mind goes silet. The only thing inside my head now is the kiss and the deep desire for more.

Billy breaks us apart when air is necessary. Both of us are panting, with red lips and looking deeply at each others eyes. "It's ok." One of his hands goes to my cheek. "There's nothing to worry 'bout."

I only nod with a smile before pulling him for another kiss, not caring for anything else now.

────────── ★★★ ──────────

Michelle's look:

Sorrel's look:

────────── ★★★ ──────────

A/N: English is not my first language. I don’t own The Punisher and Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Stan Lee and Marvel Studios, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is my Billy and some The Punisher events will be changed due to the story's course!

#a trap for broken souls #fanfic wattpad #mafia stories #assassin au #spy au #billy russo #mob! billy russo #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x oc #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #the originals #the vampire diaries #legacies #the mikaelsons #original character

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mayullla · 7 months

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Title: A Cruel Punishment

Character(s): Viscount (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: You were cast aside by your fiance, a prince who fell in love with another woman. You were called an evil woman and you thought you would be sent away yet instead you were given to another. Your hands trembled when you read the contract that you would wed a terrible man.

Tags/Warnings: male!yandere, fem!reader, viscount!yandere x fallen aristocrat!reader, both are adults, general yandere themes, manipulation (both physical and mental), power imbalance, forced marriage, corporal punishment, loss of control, womb tattoo that is not sexual, forced servitude, 4.7k words

Part 2 is here!

This was your punishment.

You did try of course. You tried everything in your power not to have this happen… Yet no matter what you did you were treated like a villain in front of that girl. Tears in your eyes as you watch the man you have loved hold another woman with such care while looking at you in disdain and disgust like you were the devil.

After misunderstandings and misunderstandings, your fiance has cast you aside for the girl who had become the talk of the aristocratic society. You were also spoken of, as the wicked one who lost her fiance to some countryside noble girl. The lady who was cruel and cunning. A bully towards those who could not speak up for themselves. A noble who had set up her own fall.

Yet that was never the case. You were nothing of that sort yet no one believed. When cautious eyes stayed away from you, not wanting to be caught in the waves or rumors. When those who cared for entertainment smiled at you wickedly, watching everything around you collapse. Those who didn't care turned their backs towards you walking away.

Maybe you should have tried harder… but it was too late. Kicked out of noble society, you awaited your punishment.

You thought you would be sent to a monastery. A punishment to banish the cruel women of nobility. Yet just before you could step foot towards that place, you were dragged back to where you were.

They had no place for you. Food and water, none of that nor a place for you to sleep. For you, a far worse punishment awaited you. As you stared at the letter sent to you your knees fell to the floor.

A marriage arrangement contract with the viscount. Cursive, beautiful, and elegant... it was terrifying.

There were many rumors surrounding him, he was someone who always smiled yet the more sharp ones could see the cunningness and hunger in his eyes. There were many rumors around him, that even while handsome many sound-minded women stayed away from him. For those ladies who did not, it was long before they suddenly disappeared, fell into madness or their family suddenly became bankrupt.

There were rumors that circulated around the nobility that the viscount was dangerous, had a hold of the black market, and dabbled in dark magic. But there was no concrete proof, there was nothing. It was impossible to find information that the rumors were true and those who tried to unravel what was covered could only regret it.

The moment you read the contract that he would have you as his wife it was as if cold water was dumped onto you. Fear encased your heart as you wondered if this was your punishment.

Those who have heard of this news wondered if you would even be alive after your marriage with that man. Some thought that you would not last even a month later found in a ditch somewhere body chopped into pieces, while organs were sold to the highest bidder.

You were scared as you were essentially dragged to his mansion, under the guise that you and him should get to know each other more before marriage which was in two months' time. Reaching the place and forced to sit down in the guest waiting room, your hands shook as you held your teacup to your lips, you could not focus on the maids bringing desserts. Seconds felt like hours till he finally showed, the same smile on his lips that felt nothing more than a mask. It was obvious that he was hiding something.

He never tried to hide that smile, in fact, you have never seen another expression on his face other than that sly smile. Maybe already confident that no one would ever find those secrets.

You were cautious of him, having met him a few times at parties and balls you have always kept your guard up and alert around him, never once able to feel comfortable when he stared down at you like a predator watching its prey. You always tried to avoid him, and when you could not you could only sigh in relief when the conversation ended and the two of you separated.

Yet here you were.

"I hope you didn't wait long." He gently asked, taking a seat on the sofa in front of you. The servants had silently left the room after he had motioned them to go out (a flick of his hand) leaving only you and him alone. You shook your head telling him that it was fine that you didn't wait long which he looked as if he had brightened considerably.

"Then please be comfortable. I do hope the tea is to your liking."

His sly smile never left his face.

It made it difficult to actually make yourself comfortable when you didn't know what he was actually thinking. The short small chat between you and him felt too long as he asked about your likes and dislikes, hobbies, and such. Drinking your tea, you were parched from all the talking and your nerves had somewhat calmed down but you tried your best to hide the tremble in your hand.

"You must be sad that you have broken up with your fiance." Looking up you looked at the smiling face of the viscount from your tea. His elbow on his crossed knee while he rested his chin on his hand, "You have been his fiance ever since you were little kids. Why do I imagine it is still difficult to separate when you have been together for so long."

You froze at his words, the hurt in your heart that of what happened just a few days ago was still fresh from the pain. "I pitied you. Such a lovely lady, that looked like a rose wilting as others laughed at a beautiful thing. Why when I heard that they planned to send you to the monastery, I only thought it was unfortunate." He sipped his tea calmly as his eyes watched you, as your hands tightened around the teacup fear climbing up your body as you tried to lean away but were unable to because of the sofa.

"...I am sorry... what are you trying to say?" You didn't understand if he was trying to offend you or if he wanted to show his pity.

You felt a wave of dizziness wash over you.

"Hmmm, for you my dear what I mean to say is that I found it tragic to send such a beautiful lady away." Tilting his head, his sharp eyes staring at you. You tried to concentrate on his words, yet you were struggling. "Then I thought that having you in my grasp would make for such a fine idea. You wouldn't have to go but instead be able to stay and I will get to keep you for myself. Of course, you would need much training before I would release you back into the noble society just like that."

Huh? You tried to listen, yet his words and face started to become a blur. Dizzy and tired you thought as you placed a hand on your head wondering what was the matter with you and if the stress from everything finally caught up to you. It was hard to understand his words, yet you could remember the mocking tone of it. It was getting harder to keep your eyes open.

"It seems that medicine is finally working. Don't worry dear I have made sure just to give you a tiny dose."

There was a sound of glass breaking, wondering what happened you tried to get up again yet were unable to when a hand placed itself on your cheek. The warmth of it was enough to get you to close your eyes. The last thing you heard was his voice.

"Such a cute little dove. Sleep love. When you wake up you will have no more rest. I will train you to become a fine lovely wife just for me and in the eyes of society."

After that darkness was all you could see, consuming all light.

Waking up, you had a major headache. Slowly moving as you push yourself up from the bed when you hear a door open and shut. "You are finally awake."

Opening your eyes, you looked around wondering why you were hearing a somewhat familiar voice when you realized where you were. In a dark room with no windows all except a lamp that lit up the room. There was almost no furniture except the bed that you lay on with expensive sheets and blankets. You suddenly moved alarmed by where you were when the clanging of chains tugged your leg preventing you from getting farther.

Putting force into your leg to pull the chain, you yelped when a sudden pain sprang on your bosom. Grabbing your stomach you looked down to see a crest. A beautiful yet erotic design was laid on the lower side of your stomach through the sheer nightclothes. “You are finally awake! You have slept for quite a while now… three days actually, but I had to make sure that you would not have any irreversible damage from the seal.

"Where... where am I?" You looked at him bewildered, fear and distrust shown in your eyes as you watched him walk closer to you.

"You are in the room you will stay for a little while till our wedding." You raised a brow at his words, surprised and in disbelief but he only chuckled. "My little future wife, my adorable pet, your surprised expression is just so cute. Even since a long time ago, since we met each other the first time I always had this fascination towards you."

Bending his hips, you and him looked face to face at each other. There was a certain twinkle in his eyes, one that you often see in the past whenever he looked at you. "You see it was something like a love at first sight. While I never believed that at first, I realized that it was indeed true when I first laid eyes on you. Such a prim and proper little lady, trying her best to hide her struggles from the pressure of being the finance of a prince while smiling. Seeing you made me wonder what other expressions you have other than the ones that you show in public. I don't know why but I have a hard time getting you off my mind. And the more I thought about you the more I.. fell."

"Quite the love story is it not? However, you have already belonged to someone else, to that foolish and without a lick of sense or talent prince. I do not understand what you see in such a useless buffoon." Dry words of distaste made you flinch. "But it seems I must only do so little to get him out of your side. Why, he himself volunteered to get out of my sight."

You looked at him alarmed at his words when he suddenly grabbed your chin. Examining as if you were a product that he bought. "He is quite the lustful man, don't you think? Falling in love with a woman when all she did was sway her hips and fall in his arms. That woman is a seductress. Her eyes were very greedy for things that didn't belong to her. I have a distaste for such harlots, I prefer the more meek ones, the little mice or loyal dogs."

Placing your hand on his arm you attempted to get out of his hold. "Stay still dear, I have to check if they did anything to your love face dear. I wasn't able to really examine your face much when I was so busy placing that seal." You yelped when your body suddenly didn't listen when you tried to get away. Your own body started to inch closer to him and stayed still.

"It seems that the seal is working quite nicely don't you think?" His smile could not help but widen a little more as he watched your frantic eyes, asking what he had done to you. "Your little seal here is just to make sure you are properly going to follow with your training and not run away. I had it created just for you when I heard that your fiance wanted to break up with you."

"It is just a simple commanding seal, you are quite the doll but even so I prefer my lover to be well collared just in case she had any thoughts of leaving." Your eyes watered at his words, terror seeping into your veins at the implications.

“My beautiful dove, you belong only to me.”

Things went down from there, forced into his every whim you were forced to study and learn to be the perfect wife for the viscount. Whenever you made a mistake there was a punishment. You learned how to care for the mansion. Yet the more you looked the more your blood became cold.

He was a cruel man. No matter how much you begged the servants to let you out they would not. Instead, they would report your actions to their master which would result in you being punished by him. You felt nothing more than dirt when he hit your hands if not your calves with a rod, tears in your eyes as you were forced to listen to his cooing, words of love, speaking of pain as he was forced to punish his oh so sweet lovely dear who just never listened to him.

You didn't want him anywhere near you, but you stifled all your complaints when you watched his eyes become cold the moment you tried to take a step out of line. So you kept it to yourself as your legs in his commands stayed still, as you showed your hands so that he could smear medicine on where he hit. Wanting nothing more than to hide yourself when you were forced to help him move your skirt so that he could place that cooling medicine in your calves. You were ashamed and embarrassed yet you could not do anything.

Nothing at all.

Yet the more you stayed in this nightmarish mansion the more open secrets you found.

"I heard that you have caused some trouble with the maids, you know they would be the ones serving you later when you marry me. You should be kinder to them."

"What happened to them..." You asked, shivering as you pushed yourself further on the bed, wanting anything but to be near the man who was the cause of it.

There was a rumor actually going around one of many about the servants in the viscount's house. When a person enters the mansion as a servant or maid there is a chance you will never see them again, and even if you did they would become a whole different person.

The viscount must have done something, something to make sure that whenever they went out they looked normal to an extent yet at the same time would rather kill themselves than leak a single word about their master. Except for a few who told you about the food and baths no one really spoke unless spoken to. Yet even then there was always this lifelessness in their tone, dead.

They were unbothered by what their master was doing to you, not one reaction did they create when you begged them for help. They wore blindfolds, the viscount didn't care for them but it feels that it was his way of showing his care for you. (Or maybe he wanted to see the shock in your eyes the moment you realize what actually happened to them.) It was by mistake you took off the blindfold of the maid, as you held your breath at their dead, hollow eyes lacking life. There was nothing in those eyes as if there were no memories, no life, nothing.

They were nothing more than living dead puppets.

"What did you do to those people..." You whispered, flinching when he took another step towards you. Tears were in your eyes as you watched him stop as if to think. You were scared, frightened of what he would do. Could do to you. You thought those were slave tattoos that were banned from the kingdom due to how they would cause painful physical harm to the person, how it was inhumane. Due to its nature, the king banned it a few generations ago.

"How..."

"Pfft." You flinched at the viscount reaction, trying to hold his chuckle at the back of his hand as he looked away for a moment. After chuckles and coughs escaped his lips he looked back at you again, walking closer to you again. "My dear, your mind thinks of amazing situations. Even I know that slave seals are banned in the kingdom. Why would I risk myself for something like that? I would also be placing you in danger when you are going to become mine soon."

Not that you weren't already. You saw it in his eyes, that he looked at you as if you were his own property.

Taking a seat on the bed that you were chained to he looked at you tilting his head, his smile was mocking as if asking if you were really that dumb. "You are just so cute dear. Let me explain it so that my fiance would understand." Raising his hands he motioned you to come towards him.

You didn't move, still scared, shivering like a small mouse much to his annoyance.

You yelped when your chained leg was roughly grabbed and pulled toward him. You looked fearfully towards the viscount who was staring down at you, his smile gone just for a moment. He raised his hand again, and you could not help but close your eyes till a hand touched your face in a gentle manner, it felt nothing but nauseating "Come here dear, get up. Let your fiance comfort you from your anguish."

But you didn't move, holding your hands near to your chest as you looked at him with fear. You were scared, so scared at the thought that the viscount would make you the same as those lifeless servants. Yet you were suddenly forced up but an invisible thing holding your arm roughly pulled you towards the viscount who caught you in ease.

"Wha-" "Oh, so eager." That mocking tone again, so close to anger but also amused.

You yelled again, looking at your arms as they moved to their own accord around his neck while your legs also moved by themselves placing you on Viscount's lap. "So eager and so cute... Did you want to jump into my arms that much?" you heard him whisper in your ear as your face heated up in mortification, yet it was obvious that you were shivering still in fear, unable to forget what you saw.

A small sound escaped your mouth as your body flinched when he wrapped his arms around your waist holding you tightly. "You are shivering dear, were you that afraid? I am sorry love, I should have been the one to come instead of the servants but you need to be punished after what you have done yesterday." Another tiny sound escaped your lips when he started to pat your back, tears flowing down your eyes. From the outside point of view, you looked like nothing but a tearful lady crying in her lover's arms begging him to forgive her, while he was nothing but patient.

You were glad that you could not see his face, as your tears stained the shoulder of his shirt. Patting your back his arm went back to hugging you tightly as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. It brought a chill down your spine. "Those servants are like this because I had to be sure that they would never leak any dangerous information. Many had tried already, I had to be cautious dear. I knew you would be scared of them so I had them cover their eyes."

He placed a kiss on your shoulder again this time a little nearer to your neck. "The slave seal is banned and I would never dream of using it, so I made one of my own. The kind that is similar to the slave tattoo but would never hurt the wearer, it just keeps them in a trace, a dreamlike state, and only listens to orders."

You wanted to push him away, yet your arms that hugged his neck were locked in place, as your leg tried to curl around his leg without your command. You knew that he wasn't telling everything, that there was more to it as you wonder about the seal right below your belly button.

Your breath hitched when you felt him place his thumb on the seal, as you froze in your spot. Watching your reaction he laughed again, a laugh that sounded so cruel to your ears as he adjusted your body to move closer to him than what was before.

Warmth touched your neck, his lips touching your neck. Hugging your waist tightly, it was suffocating yet it made him excited, the obsessive love in his eyes so painfully obvious, "My love, I would never do that to you. Your lovely face devoid of any feelings would only hurt me more. To make you a mindless thoughtless servant, that I could never do to you. You just need a little training compared to them..."

"Look at me." Your head did not listen to you, you did not want to look at him. Yet you had no choice but to show your crying face to the man who made you like this. Forced to make eye contact, you saw his obsessed greedy smile as he looked at your face. His eyes swirled with a crazed delight.

You hate it.

You unconsciously jumped when he touched the seal again, there was a static that ran down your spine when he touched it. A foreign feeling that you didn't feel when you touched the seal yourself. Confused, you looked at him, eye round and asking which only made him laugh even more, "You are so adorable." He whispered as he pulled you closer so that your chests were touching. "So adorable, and mine. Forever mine." He whispered, your arms still wrapped around his neck he continued to mumble those words over and over again. His embrace tighter and tighter making it harder to breathe. "I will train you to become a lovely lady, that any other men and woman would look upon you with envy, yet your thoughts would only be infested with me."

Your body moved without your consent again, hugging just as tight. You didn't want this. "So cute. So cute. God it is so fun to watch you. Your body is still shivering and tears are still in your eyes. You are so cute." He laughed as he continued to say the same thing over and over again. "And you will be all mine officially too. Soon dear, in a few months you will be mine but for now you need to stay here okay? You still didn't finish your punishment too for slapping your poor fiance."

You flinched as he looked at you, feeling an immense pressure that was pushing you down the smile calculative and mischievous, "If you kiss me I will forgive you dear." He told you tilting his head.

You want anything but that, yet when you tried to push him away your body did anything but that as your hands on his shoulder pulled him closer instead.

This was your punishment.

Yet nothing changed even after that. Nothing at all when your eyes were forced to read the books that talked about a prim and proper lady.

Every day in your mind you thought that this was your punishment. That you were weak, that you didn't know. Those misunderstandings between you and the prince were caused because you didn't try enough. The Viscount fed you well, even when you didn't have an appetite you tried to eat because of fear, cause you were fearful of the servants who looked after you. You were dressed "well" and taken care of.

However, rather than a human you were almost treated like a doll. The chain was always there on your foot rather than useful; it was a reminder that you were trapped here.

Morning you were forced to study, manners that you learned when you were young you were forced to learn again with the viscounts teaching. He was more strict than your previous teachers, forcing you to do the same sets of movements again and again, from how you eat and how you drink tea. He wanted all the mannerisms drilled into your head so that you would be perfect. To how you walk and hold a teacup. You whelped in pain when he whips you from the small mistakes you have made. Your calves burned in pain and so did the palm of your hands.

Dancing was hell, he found everything wrong with each step. If you weren't able to do it, the punishment was simple as your body was forced to do the same movements over and over and over again. Depending on how skilled or how bad you were you could only become better as you were forced to dance the same song for hours on end. Your body holding the pose of holding the viscount shoulder and hand as he went away telling you to be good and continue practicing telling you that he would come back when he finishes work.

When he came back, you were sweating with a feverish tired look to your face as your body forced you to continue moving to the steps of the dance. More often than not you would fall into the arms of the viscount much to his delight. Asking if you finally memorize each and every step. Sometimes you could not answer too tired to do so and sometimes he was forgiving, other times not so much. You yelped in pain when you heard the loud smack, even while carrying you in his arms he was strong enough to hold you and land a slap on your butt for not answering. You would answer as soon as possible after that, scared that he would hit you again.

It seems that much as he loved perfection, he also adored how fragile and weak you were in his arms. This idea of you being only able to rely on him. As he kissed your feet after taking off your dance shoes, watching you with a crazed lust in his eyes. Unable to pull away when all your energy had been taken away, you could do nothing but close your eyes away from the viscount and his taunting love.

There was even more training after that, he made so that each step you took reminded you of him whether that be the stinging pain of your butt after you had made the mistake of unconsciously trying to avoid him, or thin and revealing the clothes he made you wore were.

Silks and satins, short and over your knees essentially underwear in your eyes when the world viewed the showing of ankles to be too seductive and immoral dresses were the most covered-up clothes you were allowed to wear in the mansion. You hated the feeling of lifeless eyes that the servants had watching you.

And if he was feeling rather sadistic, he would mockingly manipulate your body to play to his whims.

On the day of the marriage, you could not help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You don't remember how many days you were trapped in the Viscount mansion. You wondered if you were broken, broken to the point that you had no willpower to even make a peep at your sufferings. You have long given up, too afraid of something worse you choose to fall. You were too afraid to resist and for him, this was nothing more than amusement. A satisfaction that you were his.

You could not run away, not when he held power over you. Not when he could manipulate your actions and steps. Nothing belonged to you, your life was signed away long ago ever since he saw you.

You thought of yourself as a marionette yet to him he thought of you as his lovely bride.

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sinsmockingbird · 9 months

Text

THE HEIR TO THE TSARITSA | Fatui Ladies

PAIRING: Arlecchino, Columbina, Sandrone, & Signora x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Fluff, SFW, Smut, NSFW, Dom!Reader, Sub!Character, Punishment (Signora & Columbina), Bondage (Signora & Arlecchino), Vibrator Use (Signora), Squirting (Signora), Voyeurism (Signora), Muzzle Use (Arlecchino), Collaring & Leashing (Arlecchino), Impact Play (Columbina), Spanking (Columbina), Blindfolds (Columbina), Creaming (Columbina & Sandrone), Somnophilia (Sandrone), Fingering (Sandrone), & Grinding (Sandrone)

AUTHORS NOTE: This has been in development for awhile now, but I'm finally pausing and taking time to write it. Decided to cut the Tsaritsa out, though I'll add her in a later thing if I decide to continue this.

✧ LA SIGNORA

↳ SFW

• La Signora was your first official concubine when you were announced as the Tsaritsa's heir; the one who'd take over as the next Cryo Archon.

• She had offered herself to you as, how she put it, a welcoming gift for the next darling Cryo Archon, and you weren't one to refuse such a reverential gift.

• Serving as a Snezhnayan diplomat, offering herself as your concubine was simply a tactful and courteous gesture for her own benefit, because if she were to already be creating a close relationship with you, then that gave her a higher chance to earn herself a high title

• Though that was only at first, as over time her original intentions began to shift, and she wasn't continuing to be your concubine for her own benefit.

• Instead, she continued to do it as to fulfill your own gratification, whether that be physically, mentally or emotionally.

• As your first concubine, it was no shock that Signora would hold a confidence as to being your favorite, and was prone to bragging to the other woman of the fact.

• There were plenty of situations where you had to interfere in between an argument between her and another concubine because of Signora's bragging.

↳ NSFW

• Usually with your interference it was only natural that you'd have to punish Signora for her disobedience of fighting with another concubine.

• These punishments with her would usually lead to her being stripped naked and layed onto your bed, her hands raised above her head and bound to the bed frame.

• With her in such a vulnerable position, Signora would often beg and plead for you to have mercy, that she was sorry for fighting and wouldn't dare do it again.

• But these were only lies, as dear La Signora never stopped her fighting, because she enjoyed being bound and merciless to your touch and punishments.

• Her favorite punishment? Being forced to have to watch you pleasure yourself while a vibrator is stuffed up her cunt, buzzing at the lowest setting.

• The Fair Lady having to suffer through with watching you pleasure yourself while having zero stimulation on herself was torture, but a blissful torture because she was gifted with the pretty sight of you.

• Then when you reach your peak, it's heavenly pleasure for Signora when you finally turn the vibrator to the highest setting and stimulate her clit while it buzzes, because she'll be squirting repeatedly in seconds.

✧ ARLECCHINO

↳ SFW

• Arlecchino, the Knave, a woman of authority and equal grace, a woman many would be shocked to hear had become your second concubine.

• The main reason as to why? Unknowing to you, as the woman has sworn to keep that information to herself, and you've learned not to pry.

• When she joins your harem, Arlecchino basically becomes your bodyguard. She'll glare at anyone who gives you the slightest glance, including her fellow harbingers and concubines.

• She won't tolerate any sort of disrespect targeted towards you, and she won't ever hesitate to rid of anything- or anyone, that dares pose a threat or minor inconvenience for you.

• Despite being a coldhearted woman, Arlecchino is actually surprisingly warm with you when in private, especially after being your concubine for a few months.

• She loves to just lay in your bed with you, having you wrapped up securely in her arms, her blackened hands combing through your hair or drawing soothing circles on your back.

• She especially loves it when you'll sit on her lap when either of you are doing work, resting her head on your shoulder and having one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you increasingly closer to her.

↳ NSFW

• Now, while Arlecchino has a dominant and authoritative persona in public, when you have her behind closed doors and in the comfort of either of your rooms, she's completely submissive.

• She turns from a scary wolf to an obedient dog, especially when you end up strapping a muzzle onto her.

• She can deny all she wants that she doesn't like being treated like a dog, but the way her eyes fill with lust and how she squeezes her thighs together at the sight of the muzzle, or having a collar around her neck and a leash strapped onto it.

• Her favorite position, even though she won't admit it, is being chained or tied up to something, whether it be the bedframe, to a chair or the wall, with either little or to no clothes on.

• Tugging her forward by the leash and hearing her growl is entertaining for you, because her in this vulnerable position is a rare treat, a treat only for you.

• Playing with her pretty cunt and muttering how much of a good girl she is for you has her whimpering.

• You can't help but think of how lucky you are to have the ever intimidating Knave being a submissive and obedient dog for you, and only you.

✧ COLUMBINA

↳ SFW

• Columbina... to simply put, if you were going to have Arlecchino as one of your concubines, then it was a guarantee that the Damselette was going to become one as well.

• She had approached you with the request to become one when you had come to see one of her shows at the opera; she had been singing a song that night.

• You certainly couldn't refuse the beautiful woman, especially not after hearing her amazing voice, so you of course accepted.

• Columbina will do whatever it takes to keep you entertained. She'll hum to you, sing a song and keep you company. Sometimes she'll even give you a massage if you seem particularly stressed.

• She's the one that's the most doting to you, always by your side and offering to help, giving you a sly smile that you quickly grow to love.

• If neither of you have important matters to attend to, then Columbina will happily drag you out to the opera, so you both can enjoy a performance.

• Another thing she'll do is take you out on midnight strolls, as it gives you both a quiet time together to enjoy the other's company.

↳ NSFW

• Now, Columbina is a wicked woman who enjoy inflicting terror and pain on others, but with you? Oh the Damselette likes to have that inflicted on her, but only by your hands.

• Putting on a blindfold over her eyes and cutting off her sight gets her extremely excited, because the unknown of what you'll do to her in bed is a thrill.

• She enjoys feeling you drag your hands across her body, ghosting your touch over the place she needs you most.

• Then, without warning, whip her harshly across her thighs or stomach, it gets her creaming in her underwear to have you inflicting pain on one of the most fear striking Harbingers.

• Being at your mercy and having you ruin her with striking her with a whip or paddle or anything is a fantasy she didn't realize she had till those moments.

• Also spank her, especially if she's been irritatingly teasing to you as a punishment; even if it is a punishment she enjoys.

• Just make sure to turn the 3rd Harbinger into nothing but your masochistic toy.

✧ SANDRONE

↳ SFW

• Sandrone is interesting... she's quiet, she doesn't participate much in Harbinger affairs, even more so than Arlecchino. The stuff she does and participates in is for her own gratification and gain.

• So when she became one of your concubines, your fourth to be exact, it was safe to assume that she had an ulterior motive. Though that motive wasn't exactly what you'd expect.

• Sandrone wanted to be a concubine simply for more of a chance to spend time with you. She had been obsessed with you for quite some time, specifically with your looks, as she found you to be a perfect doll.

• Usually when she found a new doll for herself, she'd take them without a care or second glance, but you were the Tsaritsa's heir, so she couldn't possibly go along with her usual routine.

• Sandrone loved to dress you up. She was always there to help you pick an outfit for the day, whether it be casual or grand, depending on the event.

• Another thing she enjoyed to do with you was have lunch. She enjoyed having you at her workshop, enjoying tea and pastries, listening to whatever it is you wanted to speak about.

• The Marionette wasn't a talkative woman, but she was a great listener. So you'd usually go to her when you just needed to vent about what was troubling you.

↳ NSFW

• Out of all your concubines, Sandrone was the most needy. She always wanted to have you with her, specifically have your fingers stuffed into her cunt.

• Because of this neediness, she was prone to sneaking into your personal quarters in the middle of the night, crawling into your bed and using you for her personal needs.

• She wasn't afraid to use your own fingers to fuck herself with or grind herself against your thigh while you slept.

• You never complained about this, because you cared deeply for the Marionette and wanted to help her through all of her needs, but sometimes you were just to exhausted, so you told her to use your body however she pleased while you slept.

• There was numerous occasions where you'd wake up to her creaming against your thigh or on your fingers.

• It was always a heavenly sight to see a disheveled Sandrone using you, small cries and whines slipping past her lips.

• You would always move to lay her down on the bed if you woke up, intent to relieve her of her needs however long she wanted. It was only fair that you would for her becoming your concubine.

ENDING NOTE: Feel free to add your own thoughts to this by sending an ask, or even expanding on it. Especially if you have thoughts for the Tsaritsa, would love to have her added.

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avocad1s · 10 months

Text

Pen and Paper

Requested By: Multiple anonymous users.

CW: Slightly suggestive. It mentions authors writing nsfw fanfic

Note: You all are crazy 💀 I got like seven requests for a part two ever since I posted about character’s writing fanfic about the creator. Most of them were the same so I decided to combine them.

Based off this post, but can be read as a standalone post

As established in the first part, people enjoy reading fanfics about you. However what we didn’t talk about are the authors of these books.

I think you already know but there are three known authors who write books about you, Yae Miko, Xingqiu, and Albedo.

All of them have their own way of making their writings unique.

Xingqiu writes platonic Creator fan-fiction, some people want to imagine you as their best friend or even as their parent. Having a familial connection to you is what some readers strive to have.

Albedo is the only one including art in his books, kinda like the pov fanarts you’ll see. Only problem with this is Albedo doesn’t make many copies of his books so getting your hand on one is a feat in itself. They go for lots of mora, very few people can afford it and they people who can, hoard them. (Ehem, Ninnguang, Ayato and Pantalone 💀)

Yae runs a publishing house and is the editor for many people’s work. So if anyone has an original idea for a story, it would be her. She is also the one everyone sends their work to so it can be published.

The Archons are a different case. They don’t have to read self-insert stories about you because there are definitely people writing Creator x Archon stories. Some of them are horribly out of character since not many people have interacted with their Archon and only have other writings to go off of. But that doesn’t stop them from getting the books. Ei, Zhongli, and Venti like reading romantic books about you. Nahida doesn’t read fanfics about you often, but when she wants to know more about human nature, she’ll read some about you being her parent.

Now onto what everyone requested. You reading these fanfics.

Like I mention before, once you arrive to Teyvat there not going to try and hide these fanfics from you. They just doesn’t expect you to see them.

But you do. In fact, you read them.

To make matters worse you read them in public. Out loud.

Once the acolytes notice what you’re reading out loud they’re mortified. We’re you punishing them? Or do you find humor in reading these? Many characters are ready to get on their knees and apologize for reading these books, they don’t want you to be disgusted with them or get on your bad side. They’d be so sad!

If the authors of these books caught wind that you’ve read their books, they’ll be slightly embarrassed as well. It feels sacrilegious to think of you in such a manner but can you really blame them?

If you ask them to stop writing, they’ll stop publishing the fanfics… what you don’t know won’t hurt you :)

If you don’t care or even encourage it, then many more people will begin writing fanfics. Mostly with the hopes that you’ll read it. Perhaps if they pour their feelings onto paper you’ll notice how they feel for you?

Albedo would ask if you would model for one of his books. He’s drawn you multiple times but if you’re right in front of him, he knows he can make it more accurate. (Please let him, he’s begging with his eyes)

Slight nsfw behind this point, if that’s not your cup of tea, you may take your leave.

Of course if fanfics exist, so does nsfw fanfics.

You know how in the bookstores they have adult books wrapped in plastic? Yeah, the nations would also put their own barrier so the wrong audience don’t end up grabbing it.

These are the books they do not want you finding. Just imagine the look on their faces if they see you with one of those books.

Before you descended finding these books were almost impossible, many people weren’t sure what you looked like. All they had were scriptures of what your heavenly form looked like and ancient drawings of you that was hard to get your hands on unless you had some kind of power in the nations.

However once they get to see you with their own eyes…

Yeah they’re horknee 💀🙏

Having you in such a provocative way is something for their wildest imagination, so they will use these books to fill that void.

Dom Creator, Sub Creator… you name it. You can find it.

These books cannot be checked out at any library. No one wants a sticky book returned, have some mercy on your librarian.

I apologize for that sentence above 😭

Anyways, could you imagine finding your favorite of age character reading one of these books? They’ll try to quickly hide it a dark blush on their face as they apologize to you for reading such content.

But what makes them blush even darker is when you offer to recreate whatever they’re reading in real life. They’re stuttering and their bodies are trembling, but they aren’t going to deny such an offer from their dearest Creator.

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

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everparanoid · 5 months

Text

Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood.

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you.

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them. No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly. “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…”

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt.

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard. You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

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#wriothesley imagines #genshin impact #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin smut #fluff #smut #angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending

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sundrop-writes · 6 months

Text

Picture Perfect

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

You and Mike have been dating for a few months now, and you have a great thing going. You're both very horny people who are more than happy to indulge in your desires with each other. So why is it that you find him hiding a dirty picture from you when you catch him masturbating one morning?

(Perv)Sub!Mike Schmidt x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Takes place outside the movie's canon.

Word Count: 5,100

Horror Characters Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This is primarily a smut fic; this can be read with or without considering the events of the film, and has no spoilers for the plot of the movie. There are dom/sub dynamics here - Mike is more submissive and the reader is more dominant; because this is a pre-established relationship, the characters have been settled into these dynamics for a while and even though it's not discussed during the fic, we can assume they have established safewords and fully talked about each other's boundaries so everyone is safe and well cared for; she reader has female anatomy, and uses she/her pronouns (but with all my fics, most of the pronouns used are you/yours); this fic does use Y/N.

For the main smutty parts: some dubious consent - Mike took a picture of the reader’s underwear/up the reader’s skirt before they were dating (when she was sleeping and could not consent) she was physically attracted to him at the time and would have consented to the photo being taken if he could have asked and finds the idea of this happening to be hot but he never asked permission and hid this from her well into their relationship; the reader finds this photo and ‘punishes’ Mike for it even though she likes the photo and enjoys his perverted thoughts about her; descriptions of masturbation - Mike jacks-off when the reader is not looking/not in the room and she walks in on him; mentions of Mike being gagged; mentions of Mike being tied up and overstimulated (multiple orgasms); mentions of Mike eating the reader’s pussy; Mike is called ‘good boy’, ‘Mikey’, ‘baby’; mentions of the reader riding Mike, mentions of creampie kink; mentions of orgasm restriction (toward Mike); marking kink - mentions of the reader biting/marking Mike during a previous sexual encounter; Perv!Mike; mentions of sexual photos being taken with consent (of the reader and of Mike); hair-pulling (towards Mike); thigh riding - Mike rides the reader's thigh as his punishment; mentions of a cock cage (not actually used in the fic); mild pain kink; some descriptions of subspace (even though it’s not called that in the fic); degradation kink (the reader verbally degrades Mike); mentions of spanking; undertones of humiliation kink; mentions of underwear stealing (Mike stole a pair of the reader’s panties in the past); (mild) Mommy kink - Mike calls the reader Mommy (once or twice, it’s not all that prevalent in the fic); finger sucking.

A/N: Here, I did go far beyond what was in the original request, but I saw the mention of Polaroid pictures in the request and my mind immediately went to perv!Mike?? I’m not even sure why. But I had fun with this lmao. And I keep thinking of writing a kind of ‘prequel’ fic of the situation where he originally took the photo, but idk. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! If you want to see more Mike Schmidt fics from me, definitely let me know by reblogging this or commenting on it.

...

When you got out of the shower, the last thing you were expecting to hear was the distinct sound of moans coming from the bedroom.

Not that you were at all disappointed by the needy, choked off sounds that your boyfriend Mike made. You were just… surprised.

After the night the two of you had before, the fact that Mike had the desire to masturbate was surprising to say the least.

You thought that you would have tired him out and left his cock sore and worn out for at least a good day to follow. It had been a rare night when the two of you had the house all to yourselves - Abby was sleeping over at a friend’s place (Mike often credited you with Abby being more open and sociable and feeling up to doing things like this where she wouldn’t have before) - and so, you had certainly taken advantage of that. You enjoyed a night where you could get him in bed without having to gag him or shove his face into a pillow in order to assure his silence.

You had indulged in his sounds, in fact.

You had spent the night with him tied to the bed, curious about how many times you could make him cum before his body outright gave up. The answer to that burning question was four, which was a record for him. After the forth orgasm spurted up over his belly, covering him in even more mess, you continued to milk him through it and his softening dick gave you nothing but pathetic clear drips of non-cum - he wept and begged you to stop, threatening that he might pass out from the efforts.

With the satisfaction of the answer under your belt, and taking in the sight of him so debauched one last time, you finally untied him. And then he spent some time between your thighs, enjoying a reward for being such a good boy, shoving his tongue deep inside of you while the morning sun warmed the curtains, signifying that the two of you had truly been at it all night.

The two of you eventually slept for a few hours in the morning. After waking up from the haze, you had peeled yourself out from under his heavy grip on your waist when you read the numbers on the digital clock sitting on his nightstand, seeing that it was almost noon - Abby would need to be picked up from her friend’s house soon, and you wanted a shower while Mike was still asleep.

The last thing you were expecting was to emerge from the shower to the sounds of him getting off yet again. One thing you knew for certain since you had started fucking him - he was insatiable. He was seemingly always horny the moment that he got you behind closed doors. (And often, he couldn’t even wait to get you behind closed doors - something you loved, even if it was inconvenient.) But you thought that a night like last night would tire out the libido of someone even as horny as him.

But you liked a challenge.

If he wanted his cock to be truly sore, if he wanted his balls so thoroughly drained - then you would pin him to the bed and ride him with harshness and haste before you had to go pick Abby up. It would be a waste of a shower, but you usually found the feeling of his cum sticking to the inside of your underwear to be a fond one.

“Mikey,” You called out the playful nickname as you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

You had a towel wrapped around your chest - mostly to keep the chill of the air off you and to keep your wet body from dripping all over the carpet. Modesty wasn’t really a thing between you and Mike, not when you were so intensely familiar with each other’s naked bodies now.

At the sound of your voice, Mike let out a choked sound, and you saw his movements pause - which was entirely strange. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his naked cock before. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him masturbate before - several times, you had him do so just for your viewing pleasure.

If he wasn’t allowed to touch himself as a punishment, you always told him so very clearly. But last night, you made no such rule. You simply expected that he wouldn’t want to after the thorough fucking you had given him. So you had to wonder why he was trying to hide from you.

You walked to stand on his side of the bed, and he stared at you with wide, startled eyes, covering his hard cock with both hands. The sheet was draped around his thighs, revealing his nakedness, as well as showing off the many purpling bite marks that you had left on his chest, stomach, hips and thighs the night before. He was an absolutely perfect picture of sweet debauchery that you would hold fondly in your mind forever.

“Baby, what are you doing?” You inquired gently, entirely curious as to why he had stopped. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I - I thought you would be in the shower… longer.” He breathed out, pure guilt on his voice. It was almost adorable, seeing how he could go from fucked-out and begging to completely shy about his own desires.

“I would have invited you to join me in the shower if I knew you wanted more,” You chuckled, stepping forward and running your fingers through his hair, petting him like the sweet puppy that he was. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Mike leaned into the touch, closing his eyes - the surge of soft pleasure that your simple touch pushed through him caused his arms to go loose, dropping away from shielding his crotch. This made him inadvertently drop something onto the sheets that he had been hiding from you in his closed fist.

You noticed the ruffle of what sounded like paper and saw the object fall out of the corner of your eye. So you abandoned gently stroking your fingers across his scalp in favor of investigating what it was.

Mike’s eyes widened in horror and he froze up, completely stiff as you picked up the polaroid picture, and raised it up to get a better look at it.

Immediately, you knew it was a picture of yourself.

You knew that Mike had a collection of dirty shots of you. It had only been a few weeks into your sex life when he had pulled out the camera and shyly asked to take pictures of you. You had bargained that he could take as many as he wanted, if you could take some photos of him in return. He kept his pictures of you in a shoebox under his bed and you kept yours in a special jewelry box on your vanity.

But this picture wasn’t one that you recognized.

It was your ass - a shot of your dress pulled up from behind, revealing you wearing a simple pair of cotton panties (not something you would have worn for the other ‘photoshoots’, not some impressive lingerie). In the photo, your legs were lazily parted, revealing the way the underwear was slightly caught between the lips of your cunt, even showing your pubes sticking out slightly from the fabric. If you weren’t mistaken, based on the color, that was Mike’s couch you were laying on.

But when had the photo been taken?

“Look, Y/N, please, I’m so sorry-” Mike swallowed harshly, desperate to get some air into his lungs as he begged for your forgiveness. “You were just so pretty - and - and - I couldn’t help myself. I know it was awful, just - please, please, don’t be mad.”

That was when it clicked in your mind.

You recognized the pattern on the fabric of your dress. You had worn it on the first night you had babysat Abby for Mike - back when the two of you weren’t even dating yet. That night, you had fallen asleep on the couch after you put Abby to bed. And later in the night, you thought nothing of it when you saw Mike’s polaroid camera sitting on a random side table when it hadn’t been there before. It hadn’t even crossed your mind as suspicious after he had woken you up, thanked you for helping out, and let you out the front door for the night.

That dirty little pervert.

You resisted the urge to grin at this realization, putting on a stony face and faking anger. You couldn’t have him thinking that this action would pass without punishment. Even if you heavily enjoyed the idea of being a perverted little admirer of you before the two of you even got together.

You reached over and put your hand on the back of his head, this time digging sharp nails into his hair in a fierce, unforgiving grip instead of petting him so gently. He winced as this, and you noticed a distinct bit of precum weeping out of his still hard cock at the action. You yanked on his head harshly, forcing him to look up at you while you turned the photo around and shoved it in his face.

Instinctively, knowing that it would likely only make his punishment worse to oggle over his mistakes, he looked you dead in the eyes, resisting the temptation to stare at your ass in the photo.

“When did you take this?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting him to say it. To emphasize your words, you yanked on his hair again and jabbed the picture closer to his face.

He breathed out harshly, but didn’t fight against your grip, keeping his large, glossy, guilty eyes staring up at you.

“Look, I know I did a bad boy thing, I know it was bad, but please, please, I’ll make it up to you.” He begged so beautifully. “I’ll be a good boy, I’ll be a good boy for you, I promise.”

His words were pitched soft with need, and it was a unique tone that made your stomach clench. As tempting as the offer was, you couldn’t go soft on him now.

“Answer the question!” You pressed, tugging his neck back even harsher with your grip on his hair.

“It - it was a long time ago!” He rushed to answer. “I - I shouldn’t have done it, I know that! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Why did you do it if you knew it was bad?” You asked.

This was the most interesting question to you. The thing you were most curious about.

You wondered why Mike felt the need to invade your privacy with something like this when you simply would have given in to his advances if he had asked.

You had been attracted to Mike since you met him. The entire reason you had taken on the job of babysitting his sister was because you found him to be so intensely attractive, and you wanted to get to know him better. At the time, he was someone who seemed shy and generally anti-social, you yearned to be closer to him. That night, if you had woken up and caught him staring at your panties, you probably would have taken them off and given them to him as a gift just to see his reaction.

You were too curious to know why he felt that he had to sneak such a dirty photo of you and to this day, even after all that the two of you had done together - still kept that photo a secret.

“I - I -”

Mike’s whining stutters were cut off by the sound of the phone ringing.

You heaved out a sigh and let go of him. On your way along to answer it, you shoved the photo into your purse, which was sitting open on his dresser. He was curious as to why you chose to keep it from him rather than destroying it. He heard your voice brightly from down the hall as you answered the phone and spoke to whoever it was on the other end, and he tattered with nerves as he heard you walking back down the hall.

“Get dressed.” You barked at him when you reentered the bedroom. “We have to go pick Abby up. We’ll finish talking about this later.”

Later. That certainly left a lovely slice of doom hanging over his head.

You had your back turned to him, picking clothes out of the drawer he had cleared for you in his dresser (one step closer to you moving in, he had thought wistfully while moving your stuff into that drawer) - but this left one thing on his mind.

“Okay.” Mike croaked quietly. “How should I-?”

He trailed off, and you turned back around with a tee shirt and panties in your hand to see him loosely gripping his still hard cock, slowly beginning to touch himself again.

You realized that he was asking you how he should finish off, and this caused a wave of spite to roll through you. He thought he still deserved to cum.

“I didn’t say anything about your dick.” You said, tone harsh and biting. “You don’t get to cum right now. I said get dressed, so get dressed.”

You dropped your towel casually, moving to get dressed for yourself. This caused a whine from him as your nakedness was once again revealed - something he had seen so many times now that still caused his cock to throb and weep precum, his eyes utterly fixated on the tantalizing sway of your breasts as you leaned down to hook your feet into the fresh panties you had picked out.

Mike let out a breathy whine, but took his hand off his cock. He looked at you with utterly pleading eyes, clearly wanting you to reconsider - but you wouldn’t budge from the subject. When he didn’t make a move to get up from the bed, you said something that you knew would put some urgency in him.

“Don’t make me get the cage.” You threatened quietly.

Mike was up in a moment, moving toward the bathroom to freshen up, eager to follow your instructions. His dick ached at the thought of the cock cage that you had gotten just for him - it was one of the most torturous punishments you had thought up yet. Sometimes he spent whole days with his dick trapped in the metal, unable to get hard, absolutely dizzying - making him silently resent the key worn around your neck that everyone else perceived as an innocent piece of jewelry.

The two of you got ready for the day and the conflict was soon forgotten when you had Abby in the car. You took her for lunch at some cute little diner that one of your friends had recommended - Sparky’s - and while you ate, you listened to Abby chatter on excitedly about everything she and her friend had done the night before, including ordering pizza, watching a PG13 rated movie (which Mike pretended to disapprove of), painting their nails, and staying up all night telling ‘scary stories’. You were proud of how far she had come, sharing her imagination and joy with others and having some true friends of her own age now.

After lunch, you and Mike had taken Abby to get some new shoes because she complained that hers were getting too small, and then after some browsing around the mall, it was time to go home and make dinner (if it wasn’t for you, those two would rarely eat anything that wasn’t pre-packaged). After dinner, you helped Abby work on a solar system project for school while Mike napped on the couch (and you couldn’t blame the guy, he had a tiring time the night before).

You had since put Abby to bed, and busied yourself with cleaning up, glad that Mike was still asleep while you did the dishes. It always pleased you when he slept well - one of the reasons you liked to wear him out with sex was because it was a more natural sleep aid than his medication, and caused him to have a deeper, dreamless sleep without the stupid nightmares. You were more focused on the tasks in front of you than thinking about any possible punishment you might give him over it.

The fact that Mike had taken a pervy photo of you was all but forgotten in your mind even as you were cleaning up the kitchen later that night.

The photo and the controversy, the burning questions you had about it only came back to mind as you were attempting to scrub a combination of dried glitter glue and pasta sauce off the table and you noticed Mike not-so-subtly creeping around behind you - attempting to reach into your purse.

He was trying to take the photo back.

You quickly tossed down the cloth you had been using to clean up and moved toward Mike instead. You were on him before he could blink, taking his wrist in a bruising grip before his hand could successfully come out of your purse with the photo.

“What are you doing?” You asked, even though you already knew exactly what he was up to.

With your thumb pushing harshly into the pulse point of his wrist, and your eyes glaring daggers into his - he was quickly becoming light-headed and soft, the way he always did whenever you were on top of him or when you called him baby boy in that fond, sweet way that you often did. He couldn’t conjure up any real explanation, not when he was feeling this way.

All he could manage was:

“But - it’s mine.” He breathed out softly, almost a whiny protest - as if you had taken one of his most precious toys and stashed it away because he had misbehaved.

In a sense, that was exactly what you had done.

You could only imagine how many times he had masturbated to the photo before you had caught him. How many times had he cum, looking at that picture of your barely covered ass and pussy before the two of you even got together? Before he even saw you naked for the first time? How many times did he make himself cum when that was his only source of sexual material for his fantasies around you?

It was these burning questions and the thumping ache between your thighs that spurred your next move.

You used your hold on his wrist to handle him how you pleased, knowing that a little bit of pain made him so easily pliant to your wills. You shoved him into the small kitchen and shoved him up against one of the counters, beside where your purse was sitting, and he huffed out a quiet whine as you trapped him there. You easily caged him in with one of your hands on either side of his waist, slotting your legs around his so that your thigh was right up against his denim clad crotch.

You pressed forward slightly with your knee, applying a slight bit of pressure that might be painful on his tender cock and balls (especially after last night). But the roughness of the hard seam of his jeans pressing against his tender flesh, even through his underwear, only lit sparks through him and added to that soft, mushy headspace that he was in.

He refused to look at you now, shifting his gaze off to the side as you pressed further into his personal space, pressing your nose against the side of his unshaven face.

“It’s yours?” You posed in response to what he had said, your tone utterly mocking. “It’s yours, is it?”

You reached off to the side and flawlessly grabbed the photo inside your bag without looking (the texture of a polaroid very unique to feel for) - and you held it up in his view, forcing him to look at it while you spoke again.

“Then surely, you can explain to me how a good boy like you came to own something like this,” You said, your voice dripping with satire toward the ‘good boy’ title he had given himself earlier that day.

“I’m sorry,” He whimpered, clearly apologetic about the subject. But-

“That doesn’t explain how you got this, baby.” You told him, clicking your tongue in a scolding manner. “Come on, tell me about it.”

You used a hand to grab him by both cheeks between your fingers, forcing him to look at you while he explained it.

“I - I took it.” He admitted quietly. “I took a picture of you. When you weren’t looking. When you were… sleeping.”

Again, something you already knew. But it was more satisfying to hear him say it, especially with the sharp bob of his throat as he gulped around his fear.

“You just looked so pretty, I - I couldn’t help myself.” He whispered, clearly timid to admit his lack of self control.

Though him lacking self control around you was an intense turn-on for you.

“After everything I’ve given you, you just had to go and take. You had to be a greedy, filthy, bad boy,” You scolded him sharply.

“It was different then.” He said quietly. “Then… I - I thought I couldn’t have you. I thought you wouldn’t give me anything at all. I - I didn’t think you’d ever want to fuck me.”

“Oh?” You huffed quietly, your breath puffing out across his cheek, surprised by this revelation. “So you took this picture because you wanted a filthy little piece of me? You didn’t think I’d ever touch your pathetic needy cock so you had to perv on me in secret, huh?”

He let out a sharp whine at this. It was rare that you degraded him so harshly, rather than praising him sweetly. Surely enough, even if it was unconsciously fueled by lust, his hips bucked toward you, dragging his cock along your thigh, still trapped inside of his jeans and rapidly hardening from the state of the conversation.

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“If you say ‘sorry’, one more time, I’m gonna spank you so fucking hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” You threatened, your voice low and dark.

He let out a whimper at this, and you weren’t entirely sure if the idea appealed to him or sounded like a true threat. He didn’t tempt you by speaking up again, so you continued.

“Enough with the sorries.” You told him sharply. “How many times did you jack off to this picture without telling me? How often did you look at it, touching your hard, needy dick and thinking about what my cunt might feel like? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

Mike jutted his hips again, grinding his hard cock against your thigh.

“Please-” He croaked out.

Clearly, he was begging for you to release him from the conversation, and to attend to his aching dick. But you didn’t have plans to do either.

“If you want me to touch you again anytime soon, you’re going to get off against my thigh.” You demanded harshly. “Or you’re not going to get off at all.”

Mike let out a pathetic, warbling whine in protest, sounding a lot like a kicked puppy. But still, he began to move more consistently against your leg - you stiffened your muscles on purpose and raised your thigh tighter against him, pushing your leg further into his crotch. This movement forced a puff of air from his lungs as you put more pressure on his hard cock.

“And you’re going to answer my questions.” You added on, reaching behind him and grabbing his hair like you had earlier that day, knowing that a tight tug on his roots would certainly make him more pliant.

“Ah! O-okay!” He shouted in return, and you hushed him gently.

“When were you gonna tell me that you’re a dirty little pervert?” You asked, a mocking laughter dancing in your voice.

Mike started up a rhythm as he fucked himself on your thigh. He whined in the back of his throat, his brow creasing - partially from the heat stirring in his gut and partially from the embarrassment of your interrogation - before he managed an answer.

“I - I wasn’t.” He answered honestly.

“How many other secret pervy pictures do you have of me?” You asked.

“N-none!” He was quick to respond, eager to clear himself of this guilt.

He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about the pair of your panties that he had stolen the first time he was over at your place. He also wasn’t going to mention the fact that he had snooped in your bathroom to see what brand of shampoo you used and bought the same one just so he could have your scent on tap. He didn’t need you thinking that he was totally pathetic.

“Don’t lie to me!” You demanded, giving a sharp tug on his hair.

“‘m not! I’m not! That’s the only one!” He slurred out, becoming more hazy and pleasure drunk as he ground himself harder into your thigh and his cock leaked into his underwear. His brain was absolutely fuzzy from the streaks of pain coming off his scalp when you pulled on his hair like that.

“How many times have you jerked off to the picture?” You asked.

More than once a week since he had taken it. It was his favorite guilty pleasure.

Earlier that day, he hadn’t even meant to take out the photo and jerk off to it. He had been more than satisfied with everything that happened the night before. But when he had opened his nightstand looking for his watch to put it on for the day, and the photo fell from its place stuck underneath the drawer (a perfect hiding place, in his mind). And just like when he had taken the photo, as soon as he saw you so perfectly posed there, he just couldn’t help himself. The sight of your panties sticking out from under your dress just got to him.

His cock was hard in seconds and next thing he knew, he was sitting there pumping his cock in one hand and holding the picture in the other, listening for the sound of the shower running and hoping he would finish before you did.

Something about you was so absolutely intoxicating to him, sent his brain back to caveman levels of hormonal and caused him to make the stupidest dick-driven decisions ever.

“Mommy,” He begged quietly. “Mommy, please.”

Your stomach clenched - it was a name he used in an attempt to soften you up, trying to make you pliant to his big eyes and whimpering breaths.

He grabbed both of your hips and tried shoving his face into your neck to hide himself as his hips stuttered against your leg, humping hopelessly like a needy puppy. You yanked him back by the hair before he could fully hide himself and he exhaled in a needy, simpering tone, deflating like a balloon as his shoulders sagged. For a moment, he stopped the movement of his hips altogether - as if expecting you to take over in some way and make him cum.

“Mommy is only sweet to good boys.” You whispered in his ear. “Mommy punishes dirty little bad boys who can’t take their head out of their dick long enough to behave.”

He squeezed out a hot breath, seemingly deflating more. You used your free hand to grab his hip, and began guiding him to hump along your thigh once again.

“Come on, baby.” You encouraged him. “If you don’t cum like this, you don’t get to come for a week.” You gave a gentle warning. “Are you gonna be a good boy? Or are you a stupid little perv? Hmm?”

The harsh degradation behind your words, the motivation for him to be seen as a good boy in your eyes - that truly got him going again.

“I’m a good boy.” He said quietly, fucking himself against you, moaning quietly as the friction caused sharp tingles against his cock. “I’m - I’m a good boy.”

“Show me.” You told him firmly. “Show me what a good boy does.”

“Please,” He breathed out. “Fuck, Mommy. Please!”

You knew that he needed more, and you did pity him to an extent - so you gave another tug on his hair and slipped your other hand under the back of his shirt, raking your nails across his back, making claw marks that you knew he loved. The stinging feeling of your nails biting into his skin causing pure sparks that sent heat straight between his thighs. When you leaned in and sharply bit his neck, that truly sent him over the edge, causing him to lose all sense of rhythm and having him bucking wildly, mindlessly against your thigh as he flooded the inside of his underwear with cum.

“Fuck! Y/N!” He shouted.

“Shut up!” You bit back.

You stood back up to your full height, shoving your fingers between his lips to gag him. You knew that you had to be mindful of his volume when she was so deep in it, so absolutely lost in the pleasurable haze that he didn’t care how loud he was being.

He rode out his orgasm gagging slightly with your fingers pressed against his tongue, his eyes tightly screwed shut, a light sweat gathered on his brow as he continued to hump against your leg, carrying himself through it.

After a few moments, Mike’s rattling moans turned into harsh, open-mouthed pants around your fingers as he caught his breath, and you eased your fingers out of his mouth, enjoying the thread of spit that came off his lips far too much.

When he collapsed his head onto your shoulder this time, you let him.

“You’re - you’re not really mad about the picture, are you?” He asked, gently huffing the words into your shirt as he struggled to catch his breath. “Because if-”

“I’m not mad about it.” You clarified, moving your hand from under his shirt to pet through his hair calmly, wanting to reassure him of this. “In fact, I think it’s pretty hot.”

“Really?” He asked, his gaze shooting up to inspect your expression, almost not believing your words. Even though you were always very honest and transparent when communicating your feelings to him.

“Yes.” You answered honestly. “I think it’s hot that you found me so attractive from the moment we met.”

“‘Attractive’ is a bit of an understatement.” He mumbled quietly in response.

Interesting.

#sundrop writes #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie fanfiction #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's movie

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anastaaaaaaasia · 2 months

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The First Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x niece!Reader

Important notice: in this series reader has features of Ser Harwin, including Brown hair and tone of skin.

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First Chapter

Just like her mother, young Y/N was given the nickname, the Sunshine of the Castle. The girl was already 2 years old, by this time Princess Rhaenyra had another son, Luceris, Luke for his loved ones. The little prince also has dark curls, which are unusual for a Targaryen. Ser Laenor's three children do not look like him in appearance, it is too early to talk about the similarity of character, but despite all the gossip within the walls of the Red Castle, he spends all his time with all the children. Jayce teaches how to hold a sword and parry blows, walks with Y/N in the garden and helps catch butterflies, which are then carried to Helaena and the three of them look at them, and together with Luke watches the dragon egg, which is in the cradle.

Dragons. As one of the last houses to survive the Doom of Valyria, dragons became a family trait within House Targaryen, along with platinum hair and violet eyes. With the help of dragons, they captured Westeros, protected the dynasty, conquered new lands and connections, and conquered the skies. They say that the Targaryens are closer to gods than to people. But sometimes even the gods do terrible things, it all depends on the dragon riders.

Jace's egg has already hatched and a new resident, Vermax, has appeared in the Dragonpit. The dragon keepers say that even at his young age, Vermax avoids the cold in every possible way and tries to be close to other, older dragons. For example, Sunfyre.

The golden dragon belongs to Aegon and is similar in character to its rider. A nosy and nimble dragon cannot stay in one place for more than a day. The catacombs of the Dragon's Lair seem to be suffocating him, so his mood changes dramatically when the dragon is brought out to the prince. While the small dragon always approaches its owner with joy and excitement in its eyes. Dragon keepers would swear they've seen Aegon hugged his arms around a dragon's neck a couple of times.

And his sister, young Helaena, during walks with her father in the dragon’s lair, shows a special interest in the Dreamfyre. The dragon also reacts calmly to her presence and even allowed herself to be touched.

The situation was different for peers, Aemond and Y/N. Their eggs did not hatch and the children were too young to understand what was happening. Some say that the year of their birth was cursed, others say that it is a punishment for the fact that the origin of Rhaenyra's children is called into question, but then what does Aemond have to do with it. The boy inherited all of his father's Valyrian features, Platinum hair and purple eyes.

Everyone thought. No, hoped that the eggs would hatch over time, but two years is already quite a long time. The firstborn of King Viserys 1 has already spoken to her father that if Syrax lays the clutch, then she is ready to give her daughter a new egg, she is even ready to give Aemond one, as a sign of goodwill for his mother.

Once old friends, now they meet only on certain occasions. The queen and princess, who once communicated warmly and cordially, now greet each other with cold glances and the proper courtesies that the royal court expects from them.

The relationship finally deteriorated when Lord Otto Hightower, the queen's father, was removed from his position as Hand. From that moment on, Alicent did not believe a single word of her former friend. There were a lot of lies, they flowed through the Red Castle like streams, flowing down the steps, parapets and entrevolts into the ears, penetrating into the common sense and hearts of all the inhabitants of the castle.

Therefore, when the queen caustically noted that for some strange reason the Baratheon genes outplayed the strong genes of the Targaryens, Velaryons and even the Arryns three times, this only created another reason for new whispers in the dark corners of the castle.

Now the royal family will have to meet again and put on fake smiles for everyone around them. For the second time in a year, the king announced a royal hunt. Two moons ago they were dedicated to Prince Aemond, second son of King Viserys. The boy turned two years old and his curiosity about everything around him began to awaken. Especially to his father's model of ancient Valyria, he often walked around him, and Viserys sometimes helped him, lifting him into his arms and showing the figures closer. The prince especially liked miniatures of dragons, which he only had in toy format and could never emit real fire.

Today, the royal hunt was dedicated to the second anniversary of Princess Y/N, the king’s granddaughter from his beloved daughter. The girl was wearing a light blue dress. It reached to the ground, and there was a rectangular cutout under the neck to make the princess feel comfortable under the summer sun. The sleeves barely reached the elbows and their bottoms were framed by flowers made of silver fabric. The skirt of the dress was also inlaid with silver threads and small stones.

Despite the obvious colors of House Velaryon in the costume of the young heiress, the head was still adorned with now long brown hair, like the other offspring of Princess Rhaenyra. The hair shimmered brightly under the sun's rays and made it a warmer shade than it originally was.

In the clearing in the middle of the Royal Forest, tents were already erected, and the servants were urgently making final preparations. The united coat of arms of House Targaryen and Velaryon fluttered in the wind, and the standards fit tightly into the ground. The clearing gradually filled with guests, lords and ladies from different parts of Westeros. Any event in the royal family means the possibility of potential alliances, which is why many noble families were present today, despite other plans and assignments.

But all this did not worry the young Targaryen heirs. Three royal carriages were almost approaching the scene of the event. The first was the King and Queen's carriage. Alicent sat inside, heavily pregnant. The maesters said that in one moon the queen would give birth to another child for the king of the seven kingdoms.

On her lap sat the princess of Helaena. The girl played with her long platinum hair, some of which was braided. Her light green dress shone from the rays coming through the window.

Sitting on Viserys' lap was his second son, Aemond. The two-year-old prince was looking at pictures in a book about his ancestors, about Aegon and his two conquering sisters. He especially looked at the illustrations of dragons.

To their right sat Aegon, the prince was talking about something with his father, when the latter handed him a goblet of wine.

“Viserys,” Alicent shouted. "He is only six years old," the queen was unhappy with her son's affinity for wine.

“He is already six years old,” the king commented good-naturedly and with a smile. “Even more so, it’s diluted,” after these words, Viserys shook his head approvingly towards Aegon, mentally giving permission to try the drink. The prince took a sip and broke into a smile.

Suddenly the carriage hit a stone and the remaining wine from the goblet spilled onto Aemond’s book, covering Vhagar’s drawing with a dark red stain. Two-year-old Aemond was clearly unhappy with this and hit his brother with his small fist. The carriage suddenly filled with noise in an attempt to calm the dragon's offspring.

But this was not heard in the next cart. Princess Rhaenyra was stationed there with her husband Ser Laenor and two children, Jacaerys and Y/N. It was decided to leave the newborn Luke in the castle under the supervision of maesters and midwives. The little girl tried to fall asleep, burying herself in her father's side, while Jace, on the contrary, tried to start a conversation. For a three year old he was very active. And now he was trying to teach his sister to pronounce his full name.

“Come on, tell Jacaerys,” the prince had been trying for ten minutes.

“Jace,” the girl said and laughed, seeing her brother’s dejected face. Rhaenyra also grinned and turned to the first child, "Don't worry, she will say your full name someday, right now it's still hard for her, she's only two years old."

“I hope it will be easier with Luke,” Jace said and frowned. Y/N carefully approached him and carefully hugged her brother.

“Jace,” she said and smiled. Jacaerys was no longer dissatisfied and smiled, “Well, at least I’m her favorite relative.” Everyone grinned.

“Favourite relative,” Y/N said carefully and in syllables and hugged her brother tighter.

The third carriage carried the rulers of Driftmark, Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen. They were discussing Laena, who had recently given birth. She gave birth to Damon's two daughters, Bail and Reyna. The babies were not even a year old. They now live in Pentos and due to the danger of travel for the girls, they were unable to come to King's Landing. Although before pregnancy, they visited Westeros and Leina became quite close friends with Rhaenyra. Eyewitnesses say that they often saw three dragons flying together. Caraxes, Vhagar and Syrax.

Now, when the clatter of the hooves of the royal horses can be heard from the clearing, the musicians line up holding the fanfare high. Golden chimneys shine and shimmer under the rays of the sun, and the coats of arms of the Targaryen and Velaryon houses hang proudly in a row. The sounds of music spread throughout all the tents, the invited guests head to the meeting place of the main persons of this holiday.

The carriages drove into the clearing and, to the deafening claps of the guests, the Royal Family went outside. The fanfare blew so loudly that six-year-old Aegon covered his ears in displeasure and there was some disgust on his face. But it soon disappeared, when he saw Rhaenyra’s only daughter, his niece.

It was unusual, but something attracted him to her. From the moment of her birth, Aegon made sure to spend time with her. He looked at her in the cradle and gave her small toys from his own collection. Hell, he even let her slobber all over him just to see her smile. And now, when the holiday was in full swing, he wanted to see her. But his mother distracted him.

The birthday girl of this celebration sat in her mother's arms as she spoke with the chief of the city guard, Harwin Strong.

“Princess, I also have a small gift for you,” Harwin said with a smile. He handed a small toy into the girl's hands. It was a white wooden horse whose mane was decorated with green, red and blue colors. Those colors that decorated the coat of arms of the House of Strong. The girl examined the gift and then poked it in Harwin’s chest, where that very coat of arms was and smiled.

“You have a bright child growing up, a rare combination of intelligence and beauty,” Harwin chuckled. Princess Rhaenyra also smiled and lightly patted the baby's head. Y/N and she really was smart, she often saw Ser Harwin and how he spoke to her mother. Therefore, the next phrase plunged the two adults into a slight stupor.

“Favorite relative,” Y/N squealed happily and stretched out her arms in an attempt to hug Harvin. Rhaenyra looked around sharply, trying to figure out if anyone had heard this phrase. Harvin was a little embarrassed, but in his heart he was pleased, although he understood that all this was wrong.

“No, Y/N, you can’t say that,” Rhaenyra said. The baby frowned and did not understand the reason. When she said this to Jace, her mother was pleased, but now she scolds her. Harwin asked her to cheer up the baby.

“How does the horse gallop?”

“Clunk clunk,” the girl imitated, picking up the toy, and then laughed with Harwin. After that, Rhaenyra smiled guiltily and went to the royal tent.

“I would like a niece like this,” said Laris, who suddenly appeared.

There was fun in the royal tent. Wine flowed in streams, and bards entertained the high-ranking guests. Y/N sat on the carpets next to other children and looked at the toy. The color red reminded her of her mother, grandfather and all the Targaryens. Blue was similar to the color of her father and relatives from Driftmark. And Green, who did green remind her of? His. Aegon.

The prince appeared in her field of vision and the girl smiled at him, stood up and hugged him. Aegon chuckled and sat down next to her.

“You,” Y/N exclaimed and first pointed to the green line on the horse, and then to his green tunic.

“Yes, Green,” said Aegon

“Gween,” Y/N repeated incorrectly.

“Gween,” the prince assured with a grin and thought for a couple of seconds. Suddenly an idea popped into his head and he tried to implement it. "Do you know my name?"

The girl thought and blinked her eyes a couple of times in confusion. Y/N frowned and shook her head in denial.

“I am Aegon. Can you repeat that? Ae-Gon,” the prince pronounced his name syllable by syllable and looked at her expectantly. After a couple of attempts the girl exclaimed

“Aegon,” Y/N started laughing and Aegon smiled from ear to ear. Jace, who was sitting next to him at the time, frowned and became indignant.

“Why can you say his name, but not mine,” the prince exclaimed displeasedly.

“It’s obvious, nephew, I’m her favorite relative,” Aegon said and Y/N smiled

“Aegon, Beloved Relative,” said the princess and buried herself in Aegon’s chest, hugging him with her small arms. The prince blushed.

“At least I still have Luke,” Jace muttered dissatisfied and continued to play.

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