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beginningofwonderland · 16 days

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Die For You - Hongjoong

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem Reader

Genre: smut with plot, plot with smut (18+ MDNI!)

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: When enemies infiltrate the castle, you and your guard have to flee to a hiding spot deep inside the building. But a sudden appearance of enemies leaves your guard deeply wounded. As you tend to his wounds, you can't ignore the rising tension between the two of you any longer.

Tags/Warnings: Hongjoong as your guard, Royal au, San makes an appearance as an evil assassin, blood, death, violence, pretty detailed knife fight, the knifes don't make it into the bedroom though so no warning in that way, dirty talk (a little derogatory), oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (this is purely fictional pls use protection if you mess with your security guard), cumming in mouth I've never written any kind of royal or not modern setting before so bear with me. How do you dirty talk in that kind of au??

The darkness from outside spread over the floor in front of you like a disease. Seeping black all encompassing every step as you ran along the abandoned hallway. You didn't know if the darkness was comforting because no one could see you, or terrifying since you couldn't see much yourself.

The royal guard had decided to extinguish all the torches to confuse the enemies after the invasion began. As soon as the first intruder was spotted, chaos had broken loose. Immediately you were removed from the banquet. Accompanied by only your head guard you were supposed to flee to your second bedroom, which was hidden away deep in the maze-like corridors of the castle as a hiding space.

"You should get rid of those shoes, my princess. They are making quite the noise and I don't imagine them being comfortable either," your guard recommended. His voice was lowered so that the sound wouldn't carry too far.

In the haste of the moment you hadn't even thought of the clacking noise your shoes made with every step. But now you were very aware.

"You're right," you replied in a whisper and stopped to take off your heels. You thought about carrying them but before you could take a single step further your guard snatched them from you and threw them out the nearest window. You stared at him dumb-foundedly.

"If we leave them here it's a clear trace to you and they are only in the way if you carry them," he explained. A slight hint of annoyance clung to his voice as if he was getting impatient with you.

"They were pretty though," you complained under your breath while resuming your path.

You didn't overhear the snort behind you. "I'm sure you can simply buy new ones, my princess."

There was a certain teasing tone to his voice now. It's what you liked about Hongjoong. Even though he held the most important position in your personal guard he didn't treat you like the other guards did. He still let his character show through on the edges of his tough exterior. A smirk that was hidden away in the darkness formed on your face.

A sudden noise from behind you made you lose said smirk in an instant. The sound was clearly of clashing weapons and the fight seemed a mere few corridors away. Your heartbeat accelerated at a concerning rate as you threw a glance over your shoulder. The darkness didn't grant you any information but before you could spy any longer, Hongjoong strode beside you grabbing your arm.

"We should hurry," he advised. The stern voice he had when he was carrying out his job had returned as he was spoke closely to your ear.

The close proximity brought shivers to your skin, which you hoped he wouldn't notice as he dragged you forward by your arm. You couldn't help but be intrigued by your main guard's presence, even in moments like these. He had this strong aura around him that only intensified whenever he bickered with you. But that was something to think of at another place and time.

You both made your way through the maze of corridors in a way only people that knew the place like the back of their hand could. But in the middle of your usual path Hongjoong stopped you by slightly squeezing your arm.

"We should take a detour, I have a bad feeling about going the usual way. If our enemies were able to get into the castles there might be traitors amongst us that know their way around."

You simply nodded at him, trusting his judgement without a doubt. Finally, your eyes had somehow grown accustomed to the darkness and you were able to make out Hongjoong's face again. His expression was determined as he led you down a different way from your usual path.

It had grown terribly silent around you. It was probably just because the distance between you and the main disturbance grew bigger but something about it made you feel eerie. Your breaths came shallow now and you were sure Hongjoong noticed too, with the way he cast you worried glances.

As you turned the next corner he stopped you two abruptly. His arm immediately went in front of you and he shoved you behind himself without ever losing his focus on what laid ahead of you. Three persons had appeared in the darkness before you. They also had stopped in surprise but now they were slowly approaching, their dark figures looking like wild animals as they stalked towards you.

"Look what we have here. The cause of all this trouble," a honey-sweet voice announced. It was the person in the middle of the three and as he came even closer you were able to make out some of his features in the moonlight that fell through the high-arched windows. He had a sharp jaw and cheekbones, elegant eyes and to you personally he looked almost annoyingly attractive.

Hongjoong in front of you let out a snort. "San. We meet again like this."

The name caused a cold shudder to run over your back. San was known as the dark knight of the Choi kingdom. His abilities as an assassin were known beyond the borders of his country especially since your enemies used them as a weapon against you. He had already assassinated important diplomats and close advisers of your father, the king.

Having this man in front of you was the worst possible outcome of the evening. Hongjoong however didn't seem to be as frightened as you felt. His hands only went to his belt in a calm manner, pulling out two daggers. You had seen what he could do with those before and the reassurance of the weapons gave you hope again.

"You're going straight to violence? I thought we could talk this out first," San complained in a whiny tone. His attitude made shivers run over your skin. How could you be so relaxed when facing a death battle.

"If you want to talk, I'm kindly asking you to leave. If that's not what you want then you should prepare to die." Hongjoong took a step forward, falling into a fighting stance.

"How optimistic," San chuckled. But then his voice changed to a more threatening tone: "Get her."

What a coward, you thought. Sending his men first instead of fighting himself. But then your thoughts were interrupted by watching the scene in front of you play out.

The two men approached quickly. It was hard to see clearly in the dim light but you were quite sure both of them carried a dagger as well. Hongjoong threw a calculating gaze at both of them before they faced him. He couldn't move around them so that he would only face one because then the other would have a clear way to you. So his only chance was to fight both at the same time.

And that he did. Hongjoong dodged every single slash or punch they threw at him. It looked like he was dancing with them in an endless rhythm of moving around their blades. His movements were fluid like water and you could have even sworn a smug little smirk tugged on his lips as he countered his enemies.

The first one fell as one of Hongjoong's daggers was buried in his stomach. Hongjoong pushed him out of his way with a kick and then faced the second. A fire was burning behind his eyes now, heavy breathing filling the air between the two opponents. It felt surreal to you, how you just stood back and watched it all unfold. Even more so, since San was doing the same in the back, even leaning onto a wall leisurely.

This guy is out of his mind.

San's second accomplice seemed to be a better fighter as he endured Hongjoong's attacks for longer. A quick slash of Hongjoong's knife gave him a deep cut into his arm but he kept going with the other.

The longer the fight dragged on, the more nervous you got. Your enemies were stalling for time and at any second, more intruders could appear behind or in front of you. Your suspicion was only heightened when out of the corner of your eyes you saw San starting to move. It almost slipped past you with the silent way he moved. Like a black cat sneaking its way through the darkness he had moved towards your direction while Hongjoong was busy fighting.

"Hongjoong!" you screamed out in panic, moving towards him and away from San. A grin spread on your enemies face that only heightened your panic.

Turning around at your pleading words, Hongjoong missed a crucial second of watching his opponent. A heavy punch hit him on his cheek as soon as his attention was interrupted. You gasped from the impact and Hongjoong released a heavy groan. But the hit only ignited the fire inside of him more. Without missing another beat he hit his opponent with a kick, making him bend over before he cut his throat without hesitation.

But he had taken a second too long. Before he was able to face San and hide you behind him, an arm had grabbed you harshly from behind, pulling you close to San and holding a knife to your throat.

It was the first and only time you had ever seen a sliver of fear flicker in Hongjoong's eyes. But he quickly controlled himself again and was back to his stern face.

"Now if I were you I wouldn't do anything I might regret later," Hongjoong warned his opponent.

"I can say the same for you," San laughed and pressed the blade closer to your neck making your eyes flutter in fear. You've been hunted by the Choi kingdom ever since you were born. As the only heir to your severely sick father, with you out of the way, the Choi king could finally take over your country after years of territorial war.

The feeling of being chased was so ingrained into your bones that it now rendered you motionless in panic. All you could look at was Hongjoong. His eyes flickering to yours as if checking up on you.

Why is he not killing me already? you thought to yourself. Isn't that what they wanted all these years?

The same thoughts must have gone through Hongjoong's head as he watched his opponent with a calculating gaze. You noticed how his eyes lingered on the hand holding the knife at your throat.

"To make this all the more interesting," San suddenly started explaining: "the young king Choi has changed his mind. He doesn't want to assassinate the princess as he fears the uproar of the people. Instead he wants to marry her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. What on earth was this now.

"You know," San continued. "Make her attend public events and then lock her up for the rest of the year like the little political puppet that she is."

You could practically hear the devilish grin in his words as he finished that sentence. And it seemed to ignite something in Hongjoong. As pure hatred washed over his face, he threw one of his daggers.

The blade approached you as if it was in slow-motion. Hongjoong had calculated correctly. You were so paralysed into your spot that you didn't move a single inch. The blade then bore itself into San's arm, making him drop his own knife.

"Get back, princess!" Hongjoong shouted as he tore you away from San, using the second of distraction after his opponent got hurt. Finally, he had you secured behind him again.

San ripped the blade out of his arm, throwing it to the side without a single sign of pain on his face. There was only anger. Within the blink of an eye the two were at each others throats.

It was the fiercest fight you had ever witnessed. Both of them were not only very talented but also ruthless. They kept up a rhythm of circling each other and then slashing out with their daggers. Both of them suffered small cuts when not dodging in time but what worried you more was that you could see Hongjoong breathing heavy. After already fighting two people he was simply tired out compared to his opponent.

"You know you can't win this," San provoked him, probably hinting at the same realization you just had. "Just give her up already. I might even spare your life."

"This is not about me," Hongjoong replied sternly. They were back to circling each other, catching their breath.

"So dutiful? I never understood you guards. I do this for money and not for the honour. Or are you doing it for her pretty face?" He was smiling devilishly and San's suspicions were proven true when Hongjoong immediately lashed out at him with his knife. San must've hit a spot with his words.

You could sense Hongjoong losing his focus, blinded by rage, and you knew you had to do something. In the midst of their battle you picked up Hongjoong's second knife from the floor which San had thrown to the side. When you turned back around to face them, San had forced Hongjoong against a wall and your guard could barely keep up with the continuous attacks of his enemy.

In a hasty decision you stormed towards San, knife in hand, ready to bury it deep into his back. But you had underestimated him. Before you could launch your attack he managed to hit Hongjoong's hand with the hilt of his knife, making him lose his last weapon. In the moment of confusion he turned around and slashed his knife after you.

"Thought I wouldn't notice you, little thing?" he asked with a smirk before returning his attention to Hongjoong.

He never intended to kill you, he just wanted to ward you off and he succeeded in that as you jumped back in fear. It took a second to settle in but a burning pain pulsated on your lower arm. When you looked down a long slash opened your skin, dark red blood already running down your arm.

Hongjoong was now protecting himself with his bare hands. His arms trying to direct San merciless attacks. He was littered in cuts by now and you felt the crushing fear of him losing right in front of you. Or worse, him dying.

"Hongjoong!" you tried in a last attempt to save the both of you. You knew it would distract him again, but it was the only chance.

Before he could even look, you threw his knife in his direction. Luckily, he caught on immediately and his hand reached for the blade in the fraction of a second. Surprising San for probably the first time this evening, Hongjoong immediately brought down the knife in between his rips, burying it to the hilt.

San's knife fell with a loud clutter. His face was frozen in that last expression of surprise as he fought for air. The knife must have fractured his lungs and, if he was lucky, his heart as well. As he stumbled a step back, Hongjoong give him one last push while pulling out his knife, making San fall on his back. Blood spread rapidly on his white shirt, soaking through the fabric in a fascinating pattern.

"Quick, my princess. We need to hide before more enemies appear."

Hongjoong once again grabbed onto your arm. This time he was careful not to take the one that had been injured. Your eyes were on the dark path in front of you again, trying to get rid off the picture of motionless bodies, that were haunting you now.

It wasn't far until your secret quarters from here. After two more turns you reached the tapestry that hid the door to your hideout. Hongjoong retrieved a key from his pocket to open the lock before he rushed you two inside.

When the door closed behind you and he locked it again, you released a deep breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you and you leaned onto the nearest table for support, feeling dizzy. Hongjoong first closed the curtains before he lit up some candles. But as soon as soon as he faced you again and saw you like this he was by your side.

"Are you okay, my princess?" His pupils were dilated and he still had a wild expression to his face. The fight still clung to him, the adrenaline not yet washed away.

He took your face in his hand gently to examine you as you looked up at him with big eyes. He had never come this close to you before and you were stunned by the proximity. But as if he had read your thoughts Hongjoong suddenly pulled away his hand again, looking at it in shock.

Swallowing deeply Hongjoong looked at you bitterly: "I'm sorry, my princess. I failed to protect you. We should tend to your wounds."

He turned away from you in search of fresh water and some fabric to care for your injury. You were left in astonishment.

"What are you talking about? Without you I would be on my way to enslavement by the Choi's. You saved both of us!" There was anger in your voice.

"You got hurt, so I failed to protect you." Hongjoong didn't face you yet as he picked up a bucket of water. His voice was stern, regret lacing every word.

Finally, he found some pieces of cloth that he could use for cleaning the wound and turned back around to you. The look in his eyes quite nearly broke your heart. You had never seen him so defeated.

"Sit on the bed," he ordered you gently. "We need to clean your wound."

"You look ten times worse than I do, let me help you first," you insisted in a harsh voice. He was bleeding all over his arms and chest and the punch to his face earlier had opened the skin on his elegant cheekbones as well. You couldn't believe that after all that he cared about your shallow little cut in comparison.

"It's my duty to protect you so let me do my job."

"It's your duty to protect me and I need you alive for that and not dying of blood loss."

Hongjoong was standing in front of you now, looking at you with a stern expression. You stared at each other for a prolonged amount of time. But when you realized he wouldn't budge, you sat down on the edge of the bed with a frustrated sigh. He set down the bucket of water next to your feet, the pieces of fabric still in his hand. For a moment he was just looking at you, eyes boring into yours with an expression you couldn't read. But the intensity of it stopped your lungs from breathing.

"Stop keeping me from doing my job, princess," he said suddenly, with a slight teasing sound to his voice.

"It's not your job to die for me just because you refuse to get help," you answered, thinking of all the possible outcomes of the situation earlier this evening. The fear you felt during his fight.

"But I would," Hongjoong replied in a heartbeat. His tone wasn't teasing anymore now. He was completely serious. Holding your eye contact he sank to his knees in front of you. His hair fell into his face as he landed and looked up at you through dark lashes.

"I would die for you."

With those words he took your arm into his hands. Dipping the cloth into the water he finally started cleaning the blood from your skin. His touch was so gentle you felt like fine porcelain. In contrast, his skin was splattered in blood, not all of it even his own. His shirt was cut up in multiple spots and his hair dishevelled.

You didn't realize you were crying until a single tear landed on your arm, mixing with the blood that Hongjoong was still wiping away. He looked up at you in surprise. His hand twitched as if he wanted to wipe away your tears too but decided differently.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I can't stand seeing you like this," you replied truthfully. "Let me help you too" You sounded pleading now. The desperation even more evident through the tears running down your cheeks.

Hongjoong averted his eyes back to your arm. After a moment of pondering he answered: "Just one more second."

He quickly cleaned up the rest of your blood and bound the cut with a fresh piece of cloth. Then he rose to his feet again. Wiping the remnants of your tears away you also stood up, now shockingly close to Hongjoong in front of you.

Gently you grabbed him by his shoulders and made him sit down on the bed in return. Never before had you realized how beautiful his eyes were until he was looking up at you like he did in that moment. When the intensity of his gaze made your skin burn, you shifted your eyes to his wounds.

"You will need to get rid of your shirt so that I can clean the cuts."

In response he started folding up his sleeves instead. "Only tend to these then," he answered sternly.

"You are bleeding all over and we need to wait out the attack anyway. Let me clean your wounds." Now it was your turn to hold his cheek in your hand. "Please."

His expression softened with the way you held him and looked at him so desperately. He knew he was making a mistake by giving in to his feelings but he still followed your pleads and started unbuttoning his dress shirt. With every button you felt the blush on your cheeks deepening. You hadn't really realized the intimacy of this moment when you insisted on cleaning his wounds. You had only wanted him to heal.

After he discarded the blood-stained shirt to the side, Hongjoong leaned back onto his arms. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over his exposed body. For once because you were fascinated with the toned muscles beneath his skin. But also because you were terrified by the amount of cuts. Some bigger some smaller, but all of them bleeding over his smooth skin.

"You wanted to help me, didn't you?" Hongjoong suddenly said, the teasing tone returning to his voice by tenfold. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized you had stared at him for a little too long.

You picked up a clean piece of cloth and dipped it in the water before you tended to his wounds. Starting on his arm, you soon realized that the injuries seemed endless. On top of that, you had to bend down to him in an uncomfortable position. But kneeling in front of him was not an option for multiple reasons either.

In a fit of confidence you instead settled for a different solution. "Can you move back a little more," you asked Hongjoong matter-of-factly. He looked confused but obeyed to your request anyway.

Before you could regret your decision you then straddled his legs, sitting down on top of them, your long dress splaying over him. Hongjoong's breath hitched for a second before he returned to his usual stern guard appearance, his eyes focussed on a spot in the distance. Only the way his hands gripped onto the sheets until his knuckles turned white still gave away how affected he was by your proximity. You continued working on his cuts as if nothing happened, ignoring the slight tremble of your own hands.

The deepest cut was on Hongjoong's right arm and you bound it immediately so that the bleeding would stop quicker. You then finished cleaning the smaller spots on his chest. At some point you almost forgot that you were touching his bare skin all over.

That was until only the cut on his cheek was left. As you grabbed his face to stabilize your grip, your eyes met. You were closer to him than you had noticed before and your heart skipped a beat as you looked deep into Hongjoong's eyes. Carefully, you started wiping the blood from his cheek. He had such delicate features. You had always thought that his looks didn't match his profession but still he excelled at it. Tonight had only proven that.

When you were done you returned your focus to his eyes. "You're all patched up," you announced in nothing more than a whisper. None of you made an attempt to move even a single inch away from each other even after you threw the bloody cloth beside you.

Hongjoong lifted his hand from behind him, slowly, as if giving you time to react. Then he laid it on top of your fingers, which were still holding onto his unwounded cheek. The touch felt so warm and comforting, yet it drove electricity through your skin.

"Tell me what you want now, my princess," Hongjoong asked you in a low voice that made your insides squirm. He looked at you as if entranced, eyes not being able to stray from yours.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, voice straining as you spoke: "You. I want you."

Both of you moved towards each other at the same time and your lips crashed in the middle. Hongjoong's other hand shot up to weave into your hair, pulling you closer into the kiss. The feeling was electrifying. The two of you kissed each other with a desperation that could only come from almost dying earlier this evening.

You had always longed for Hongjoong but now you were dying for him. You wanted every possible centimetre of your bodies to touch and so you pressed yourself even closer to his chest. You couldn't care less if he was bleeding onto your dress or not. He slung his other arm around your waist and pulled you higher up in his lap, obviously sharing the same need.

Parting your lips slightly you allowed Hongjoong's tongue into your mouth. He was skilled with it, making your head swim in cotton. There was nothing on your mind but Hongjoong. All danger was forgotten as his hands held your body tightly. All the hesitation he had shown earlier was lost to his pleasure.

When you ground your hips into him, Hongjoong released a low whine. The sound made you shudder and you felt the desperate desire to hear more sounds from him. Snaking one of your hands behind your back to open the lacing of your dress, Hongjoong stopped your kiss.

His pupils were dilated as he looked at you, lips swollen and wet from the intense kiss. "Are you sure about this, princess?" He had always called you that but his deep tone now made it sound a thousand times better than ever before.

"I've never been so sure about a thing in my life," you replied with a smirk, which Hongjoong reciprocated immediately.

"Then let me take care of this, my darling" he proposed. The new nickname rolled of his tongue so easily but it made your heart flutter tremendously. Seeing him finally break out of his dutiful persona had a weakening effect on you.

He moved his hands behind your back towards the strings of your dress. But you clearly hadn't paid enough attention to his hands as he suddenly cut through all of the lacing at once with his dagger.

A noise of surprise came over your lips as you felt the dress slowly sliding down your body already. Hongjoong marvelled at your expression, a sly smirk resting on his lips. With some of the black strands of hair falling into his face and the candlelight contouring his face he looked so perfect in front of you. You wouldn't ever be able to look at him the same way you did before you had kissed him.

Hongjoong held you by your waist as he got up from the bed. As soon as you were standing, the dress slipped down from your body, pooling at your feet as he continued kissing you. You could only lace your fingers into his dark hair as his head dipped into your neck, placing kisses on the sensitive skin.

"I would love to mark you my darling but I fear that might get us in trouble later," he admitted through a chuckle as his lips travelled over your neck.

"Then do it where people can't see," you replied breathlessly. You wanted him all over you, his lips, his marks, his everything.

Hongjoong pulled back at your words, looking at you with dark eyes. The intensity was similar to when he had attacked San earlier only know his energy was directed towards different purposes.

"Everything my princess desires," he replied, suddenly spinning you around and gently placing you on the bed again.

Before you could say another word he was on top of you, his lips all over your body. Kissing down from your neck towards your exposed breasts, sucking at the skin that was usually carefully hidden benath your dress. He looked up at you through fluttering lashes before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He circled the tender skin gently with his tongue, making you moan beneath him within seconds.

In the meantime his hands kneaded your skin all over from your waist to your hips. When his lips wandered down even farther, your breath turned shallow. He felt intoxicating. There was so much desire and desperation in the way he touched you that you just wanted more and more.

His kisses turned softer and slower as he made his way to your lower stomach. Through those dangerously glinting eyes he looked up at you for approval.

„Please go on, Joong."

He suddenly stopped his movements. "Joong?" he asked with a low chuckle.

Your face reddened as you realized you had called him a nickname by accident.

"I've only kissed you yet and you're already calling me nicknames?" He snickers. "I can't wait to hear more."

With that he removed your underwear. His eyes glistened as he looked at you before him. Glazed in lust like any other emotion was an impossibility to him.

He looked at you one last time before he lowered his lips to you. He started kissing you softly, barely giving you any stimulation. The softness was unexpected to you, not fitting his tough image. But you soon realized that these weren't acts of carefulness but rather his menacing plan to tease you.

As soon as you started to squirm beneath him, trying to get more friction between you and his kitten licks at your core, he held your hips down with a firm grip. Feeling his strength on your own body made you shiver.

"Please, Joong," you beg him for something you can't even put into words but he chuckles in response to your neediness.

"On this bed, you belong to me, my princess. I'm not taking any more orders from you," he said looking up at you with a menacing smile.

A shudder passed through your body at the deep tone of his voice and you had no choice but to give yourself up to his mercy. And nothing had ever felt better to you. Turning off all thought while Hongjoong was pleasuring your cunt in an almost torturous tempo was somehow the most blissful thing you had ever experienced. It made you forget all the panic and anxiety you had felt just minutes ago.

When an overwhelming feeling of heat built up in your lower stomach and your hips desperately tried to grind against Hongjoong's tongue against his relentless grip, he suddenly stopped. He looked up at you through messy strands of black hair hanging in his vision.

"Not yet my princess, I'm only getting started with you."

He got up from the bed only to slowly discard his pants with his eyes still glued onto your figure. As soon as you saw his hardened length you sucked in a breath of air, feeling your heartbeat accelerating. You felt like he was touching you with his intense stare alone before he was back on top of you. His eyes searched for yours and his hand cupped your cheek surprisingly gentle before Hongjoong shared a deep kiss with you.

It was like nothing else existed besides his lips on yours. You had never felt so much longing for a person in your life as you deepened the kiss and pulled him closer by the back of his head. Once you wound your fingers into Hongjoong's hair and pulled on it he groaned into your mouth, sending shockwaves through your body at the sound.

He interrupted the kiss to stare at you with eyes filled with lust, a fire behind his gaze that spread onto you immediately.

"Tell me to stop right now, princess. I know I'm not supposed to have you but I will ruin you for everyone else if I can have you just this once. You will never want anyone else but me, I promise you."

If anything his words only made you want him more: "Please," you pleaded him, voice not more than a whisper. "I'm all yours. I don't want anyone else."

And your words were like gasoline to his fire. His lips were back on yours in a heartbeat and you felt him spreading your legs apart with his knees. Never once breaking the kiss, Hongjoong held his cock and slowly let it glide through your folds, collecting the wetness between your legs and taunting you even more. You were still sensitive from his tongue and whined into his mouth as he continued teasing you like this.

"Please, Joong," you whined in between kisses. "I want you so bad."

He chuckled into the kiss but actually listened to you as he finally lined himself up with your core.

"So eager, my darling," he teased you, breaking from the kiss only to watch your reaction to him finally pushing into you. As soon as his tip entered you, your eyes fluttered shut and a low moan left your mouth.

A content smile spread on Hongjoong's face as he watched your brows draw together once he bottomed out. You felt so good around him, so hot and tight.

His thrusts started out slow but harsh and with every jolt you felt him hit a spot deep inside you, you didn't even know existed. Once one of his hands started caressing your breast, thumb rolling over your hardened nipple, you opened your eyes again to watch him.

Hongjoong looked ethereal. His delicate features barely illuminated by the candles, eyes darkened by lust and his black hair moving in time with his thrusts, the visual alone almost made you come.

"Having fun, my darling?" he asked tauntingly with a particularly harsh thrust that made you gasp. "You look so pretty moaning on my cock like that."

You felt like choking from his filthy words. Your head guard was usually not the chattiest person apart from his occasional teasing remarks towards you. Having him talk to you like that made your legs soften in the best way possible.

Knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you, he sped up his pace, increasing your moans that you were desperately trying to hold back.

"Can't even talk anymore? You don't know how long I've been wanting you to shut up on my cock like this."

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you could feel the heat in your stomach building up fast. Hongjoong felt you tightening around him and was determined to make you finish. His hand wandered down from your breast to your core and with two fingers he started drawing circles into your clit while continuing his menacing pace.

Your hands grabbed onto his underarms in response, nails digging into his skin as you felt your orgasm approaching quickly. He knew exactly what would drive you there and finished you off with his words alone:

"Let go for me, my darling. Come on my cock."

And just with that a wave of pleasure rushed over you, breath being knocked out of your lungs. You felt like fighting for oxygen as you calmed down from your high and Hongjoong whispered praises into your ear:

"Such a good girl for me. That's my pretty princess."

When he felt like you had recovered enough, Hongjoong pulled out of you carefully and settled on the edge of bed, sitting down. With a menacing glance over his shoulder he beckoned you to come closer to him.

"Get on top of me, princess. You were so eager to do that earlier I feel like I should show you what you deserve for being so needy."

When you got up from the bed to straddle him, your legs almost gave in from being so weak after your high. Hongjoong's hand latched onto your hip to steady you as he slowly pulled you onto him.

"Slowly, my darling. Don't want you fainting on me now when I'm not even done with you."

Knees safely situated on the bed next to his hips, you hovered your core over his member. Your faces were so close that your noses touched as you devoured each other with your eyes alone.

You slowly sank down onto his length while holding eye contact with him the entire time. It was the first time you saw him getting a little weak as his eyes fluttered and a small grunt came from the back of his throat.

You wanted to hold onto his shoulders for support, to move on top of him but his body was littered in cuts, that you didn't want to touch. Hongjoong felt your hesitation and let his hands glide over yours, gently placing them on both sides of his face. You felt like you were holding the stars in your hands with the way his eyes sparkled up at yours. It wasn't just desire speaking from them now but something else too as his arms snaked around your waist.

"Let me make you mine, princess."

With his words he gently lifted your body and let it drop down, burying his cock deep within your walls. One of your hands wound into his hair again, keeping you grounded by slightly pulling on his strands.

He fucked you by lifting you up and down his cock like you weighed nothing in his hands. You already felt like coming undone again as you once again pulled him into a kiss. This time he was moaning into your mouth as well, the low vibrations going straight to your core.

You couldn't hold yourself back anymore from moving on top of him too. As you moved up and down his length Hongjoong let his head fall back into his neck in bless.

"You're killing me, princess."

"I thought you would die for me?" you asked back teasingly.

Hongjoong's eyes glinted at your words. "Well that's not how I meant that."

Using his legs he suddenly thrust himself up into you from below and you knew you wouldn't last long like that. His hands digging into your skin and his cock so deep inside you you felt the pressure in your core once again tightening.

"Can you come for me one more time, princess?" Hongjoong asked you with a strained voice. Judging by his clenched jaw you could tell he was close too.

"Yes, please," you begged him and somehow he managed to speed up his tempo just a little more.

Once the orgasm hit you, you couldn't help but let your head drop into the crook of his neck, moaning into his soft skin as he continued thrusting into you. His name tumbled from your lips over and over again making him feel intoxicated of the sweet sound.

"I'm close, princess," he groaned into your ear, thrusts faltering.

"Please let me finish you," you begged him.

"God, please," was all he could answer and you got off of his lap, kneeling down between his legs instead.

You grabbed onto his length, gently stroking him while your tongue lapped at his tip. Your eyes raked over his body marvelling in the way his abs tensed under your touch and his breath came in short gasps. When you finally took him into your mouth as far as you could, Hongjoong spilled his hot seed deep into your throat. His hands wanted so badly to pull you farther onto his cock but he grabbed onto the bedsheets in desperation instead as he came undone.

You moaned as you felt the liquid trickling down your throat and the vibration only heightened his pleasure as his cock twitched inside of you. You sucked him dry before swallowing all of his come with a dazed look on your eyes.

Hongjoong felt like he was in a dream, watching the one person he had always longed for devour him so passionately. He gently lifted you up from the ground only to lay you back on the bed. He held your body like it was the most fragile thing in the world, cradling your head to his chest and stroking your hair gently.

The sudden softness almost brought you to tears. You had never felt this cared for in your life.

"Joong?" you softly called him and he looked down at you, releasing the grip on your hair so you could face him.

"What is it, my princess?"

"I don't want you just tonight."

A flicker of confusion passed over his handsome features. You laid your hand on his cheek, stroking the soft skin.

"I was the one to pick you as my head guardian," you spoke softly, the memory of it still vivid in your mind. You had kept this information a secret until now, carefully stored in the back of your head but now it was begging to be let out. "Ever since you had joined the royal guard I've had a crush on you so I begged my father to make you my head guardian, telling him I didn't trust anyone else but you."

Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise. He had always thought he got lucky with such an honoured position. He had never imagined you out of all people wanting him to be so close to you. Yet he couldn't quite grasp the gravity of your words.

"What do you mean? You can't be with a guard." He was thinking rationally. All this time he knew there was no way for him to ever have you but now you gave him hope that he didn't want to allow himself just yet.

"It is only a matter of time before my father passes and I become queen. And as the queen I can do whatever I please."

Hongjoong slowly shook his head, disbelieve evident on his face. But you went on:

"I can't imagine anyone else by my side than the one I trust the most, Hongjoong. And even if you don't love me back I want you to be at my side when I need to run this kingdom."

He stared at you for a second, mind running crazy at your words. You wanted him. Out of everything in the world that could be yours you wanted him.

"Who says I don't love you back?" was what he finally replied with the tiniest hint of a smile playing around the corner of his lips.

This time your eyes widened in surprise. "But you were always annoyed by me?" you answered in slight confusion.

Your response made him chuckle and stroke your cheek affectionately. "Darling, that was me trying really hard not to fall for you even more than I already did."

There it was again, that look in his eyes that felt like he was watching the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It rendered you completely speechless.

"I'll always be by your side, my princess. I'll worship you until the day I die."

And with that he pulled you in for another kiss. You felt a tear run down your cheek as you desperately latched onto his lips. You would never let go of him again.

This entire thing was single-handedly inspired by Hongjoong falling to his knees in Inception which says a lot about my mental health if you ask me but okay.

I hope you enjoyed even if it was different from my usual settings/plots!

Taglist: @voicesinmyhead-rc @yoonjikim

#ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #beginningofwonderland #smut fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you

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vsnyarbll · 1 year

Text

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden pt2

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, platonic!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 6.050

summary: Three weeks after y/n gave birth.

warnings: explicit language, mentions of cheating, angst, patriarchy, love triangle (kind of?)

a/n: English is not my native language. / I tried to write it taking into account everyone's wishes. Also, before I wrote this chapter, I wanted y/n to be with Aegon, but everything can change. / Helaena and Aegon are not married. / Laenor is still alive, but Laena is dead. / The age of the characters is not the same as in House of the Dragon. (according to the age differences between them) Prince Aemond is 25, Prince Luke is 20, and Prince Viserys is 13. y/n is in her 20s.

“What did you name your son?" Aegon asked, looking over y/n's shoulder at the baby in her arms.

"Your mother insisted that I name him Aemon."

There was an expression of disbelief on his face. "You didn't."

"I didn't. My son's name is Maelor."

Aegon looked at the baby with a sparkle in his eyes. He was tiny and looked like her mother, except for the characteristic features of the Valyrians.

y/n smiled, noticing Aegon's admiring gaze on the baby. "Would you like to hold him?"

Aegon's eyes widened slightly. "I've never held a baby before."

"It's simple. I'll tell you what to do."

"All right, then." Aegon was afraid of hurting him. But y/n's trust in him gives him confidence.

He came nervously to the edge of the chair. He slid his arm under the baby and held him, carefully cradling him against his chest.

"You need to support his head from underneath." y/n got up from her chair and stood beside him.

"Like this." She took Aegon's left hand and placed it under her son's head. She didn't take her hand away for a while to let Aegon get used to it. When he got comfortable with the baby, he breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair. Seeing that Aegon was getting used to the situation, y/nv returned to her chair.

"He's beautiful, y/n," he said with a smile. "He looks a lot like you. I feel like I'm looking at a silver-gold-haired version of you."

The smile on y/n's face widened. Aegon unwittingly began to rock Maelor.

"Is he still forcing you to bed with him?" he asked in a low voice.

y/n's smile froze on her face. She pulled her gaze away from Aegon. "He never did anything like that," she said, her voice even lower than Aegon's. Aemond had asked for it once, but it hadn't happened, and it had never come up again.

"You don't have to be afraid of him, y/n." He carefully placed the baby in one arm, reached his free hand to y/n, and took her arm. "Let's run away together. I'll take care of your son as if he were my own. You can tell everyone that I am his real father. Or, if you want to hide your identity, we can start a new life from scratch."

y/n turned her gaze back to him, she couldn't accept it.

She was her father's only child, and if she disappeared, her husband would inherit everything, and he would bring that Rivers witch to the castle and marry her.

y/n couldn't let any of that happen.

"I can't let Aemond be happy."

"But just because of that, you won't be happy either."

y/n looked Aegon straight in the eye. "I will only be happy when he is writhing in pain."

Aegon turned his gaze to the child in his arms to avert his eyes.

y/n hadn't realized how fast time had passed. Aemond had gone to a meeting of his father's council. The council meeting must have been over or almost over.

y/n stood up in a hurry. "Aegon, you must go. Aemond will be here soon."

“I am not afraid of him.”

“Please. I want at least one day of peace.”

Aegon thought for a moment but decided to do as she said. "All right."

He stood up and handed Maelor to his mother. "I'll see you later."

She took Maelor in her arms and hugged him tightly. "Goodbye, Aegon."

xxx

y/n put her son to bed and sat next to him. She tried to enjoy her solitude in the room.

There was no Aemond, no Aegon. She just sat by herself, not worrying about anything for a while.

It had been a week since Aemond had returned to the castle.

No further conversation had passed between them. They just said good mornings and good nights to each other. y/n was not complaining. She couldn't bear to see his face, let alone chat with him.

The door to the room opened. Aemond walked in and closed it quietly, thinking that Maelor might be asleep.

y/n watched him silently. Aemond left his books on the table as he went to her side.

"Your parents have reached the castle. They want to see you."

y/n's face lit up, and she stood up quickly. "Let me get changed, and we'll go to them."

Aemond nodded and sat down where y/n had just sat.

He leaned toward Maelor and saw that he was awake, his big eyes scanning the ceiling. He smiled when he saw Aemond's face.

Aemond carefully picked him up. He wrapped his arms around his tiny body and leaned against the headboard. He's been spending his time like this every day for a week.

He looked up and looked at his wife.

She had called her maid, and with her help, she was wearing a dress in the colors of her own house.

He loved her.

His devotion to Alys Rivers was not love. There were things Aemond was afraid to say.

y/n's maid put a simple braid in her hair.

She picked some jewelry from the table, put it on, and walked towards Aemond. He was on his feet and heading for the door when y/n stopped him.

"I will carry my son.”

"We're going together anyway. Does it matter who carries��our son?"

"Yes, it does. Can I take my son?"

Aemond sighed and held Maelor out to her.

Together they left their chambers and started walking down the corridor.

y/n's parents were waiting for them in the garden.

She held Maelor tighter as she quickened her steps.

Aemond walked silently beside her. He wanted to ask her how her day had been, but he didn't. They were still on bad terms and Aemond knew very well who was at fault.

When they went to the garden, they saw y/n's family with the King and the Queen.

y/n and Aemond bowed to them and went to the Lord and his wife.

"My beautiful daughter," said her mother. And then she took her grandson in her arms.

y/n hugged her father tightly after giving her son to her mother. "Father, I miss you so much," she said, smiling as she left his arms.

"Ah, what is the name of this handsome little boy?" said her mother smiling as she looked at her grandson.

"My lady, we haven't decided on a nam-" y/n interrupted Aemond. "Maelor. That's his name."

Aemond turned to y/n in surprise. But she did not return his gaze.

"I thought his name would be Aemon," the Queen said. "After his father."

"I have considered your suggestion, my Queen. But I think Maelor is a better name."

The Queen turned to Aemond with questioning eyes.

"What does Prince Aemond think about this?" the Queen asked.

"I-"

"I don't think it matters what he thinks. Prince Aemond wasn't the one who carried him for nine months and was in labor for hours. He wasn't even in the castle the day he was born. Why should he have any right to name my son?"

y/n's father turned to Aemond. "Did Prince Aemond have something more important to do than the birth of his son?"

Queen Alicent spoke without letting anyone else. "The birth came earlier than the maesters said it would. None of us knew she would give birth that day."

This time y/n's mother turned to her. "Why was Prince Aemond too far away to return when summoned, leaving his pregnant wife?"

Queen Alicent took a deep breath. "The prince had other business that demanded his attention."

"My husband was busy while I was giving birth to y/n. But he came right after he found out I was in labor."

The Queen looked at Aemond out of the corner of her eye.

"I understand what you mean, but-"

"My queen, I understand what you mean. We did not sell our daughter to you. You know how wealthy my house is and how important I am to the crown. When you came to us and insisted that we marry our children off, we thought it was only fitting that she should marry a prince. Lord Lannister has offered us many deals, but we knew that honor comes first. And we did not doubt that you raised your son with it," said y/n’s father.

The queen had nothing more to say.

The king came and put his hand on his son's shoulder. "My Lord, I am sure you are tired from the journey. Would you like to come in and have dinner?"

The Lord looked at his wife and nodded. "If you don't mind, we will spend some time with our daughter and grandson. We will join you in a moment."

The king and queen smiled and nodded. They turned and made their way to the castle, but Aemond did not move.

The Lord looked at the prince and smiled falsely. "My prince, we prefer to be alone."

"But-" Aemond said, and the King turned and interrupted his son. "Come, Aemond, let us give this beautiful family some private time."

Aemond looked at y/n and her father. He didn't want to go but obeyed the king.

When they were out of sight, the Lady handed her grandson to her husband and hugged y/n tightly.

"My daughter," she said. The Lady kissed her daughter on each cheek as they parted.

Her mother's eyes were full, but y/n was smiling.

For the first time in a long time, she felt so happy. Her family was here, with her.

"We heard everything. I'm sorry." her voice trembled as she spoke.

"It's okay, mother." then she turned to her father. "But I need something from you."

"Sure, whatever you need."

"You know about Aemond," she said and averted her eyes.

Her father just nodded. He regretted marrying his daughter off to the one-eyed prince. And her broken state only added to his regret.

"I am your only child. Leave me all your inheritance so I can beg the king to end my marriage to Aemond. If he asks High Septon to do so, he will surely end our marriage. The two of us will move in with you, into my home. Your inheritance will pass to me and from me to Maelor. My son is of the blood of old Valyria and will be a dragon rider. And more importantly, he is of our blood."

His father sighed. "My daughter, I want you to be happy more than anything. But the king will never agree to end your marriage. If your marriage ends, all alliances and treaties between our house and the kingdom will end, and no one in the king's council will agree to do that."

y/n felt her happiness fill with despair. "But the king is a good man. He would understand."

"He might be. But you cannot ask the king to do such a thing."

"I can at least take my chances-"

"y/n, I cannot break the centuries-old traditions of our land. Don't ever ask me to do this again."

y/n felt her breath catch. "But-“

“The other lords will never accept your leadership. As much as I love you and want your happiness, I must also think of the future of our house."

y/n's expression hardened. She was angry that her father had destroyed her chance of salvation.

She took Maelor in her arms. "There's a dinner in honor of your arrival at the castle. We'd better not keep the King waiting."

Her father sighed. He wanted to give her everything she wanted. But no matter how influential a man he was, there were things he couldn't afford.

Together they went inside the dining room.

y/n's mother never left her side.

As soon as they were in the dining room, the King stood up happily. "Welcome again.”

At the king's words, everyone recognized the Lord and his family entering the hall. And those sitting in the chairs stood up because the King was standing.

Princess Rhaenyra and her family had also come to the castle for the birth of her nephew.

Her sons stood together next to their mother. Prince Viserys, son of Princess Rhaenyra, was excited to see the baby.

As y/n and her family walked to the table, one of her maids came to her and took Prince Maelor from her.

The lord and the Lady sat in chairs next to the King and Queen, and y/n sat with her husband. On the other side of her sat prince Luke.

Aemond tensed as he realized that the Prince Luke was sitting so close to him.

y/n liked Aemond's nervousness. She knew about the fight that had taken place between them years ago and that neither of them liked the other.

She leaned toward Luke. "My prince, your lapel pin is beautiful."

Luke looked around as if he didn't believe y/n was talking to him. He looked at her with big eyes. "Me? Oh… yes. Yes, thank you, my Lady. It represents my dragon."

y/n giggled slightly. "I love dragons. When I was little, I read stories about your ancestors, and dragons were my favorite part."

Luke felt his face warm. y/n was beautiful. He was too shy to admit it, but she was.

Even Prince Daemon had laughed the first time he saw her and said he couldn't believe his one-eyed nephew had married her.

"My dragon may not be the largest, but I can introduce you to him if you'd like. We can even fly together."

y/n smiled. "I certainly would."

"If my wife is going to ride a dragon, Vhagar is the only dragon she's going to ride," Aemond said, cocking his head and glaring at Luke.

"My prince, why are you being rude to your nephew? If you wanted to introduce me to Vhagar, you could have done it any day in two years. Besides, I prefer a more willing rider."

Aemond's gaze hardened. "He's an inexperienced dragon rider. You don't know if he can control his dragon. It wouldn't be right for your safety."

y/n looked at her husband with a smile. "If I remember correctly, his dragon egg cracked to him. I'm sure the bond between them is strong."

Luke chuckled. "It certainly is, my Lady. I'm surprised you know so much about dragons."

"After all, my son will be a dragon rider one day. I try to learn as much as I can."

"That's very wise. If you would like someone to accompany your son on his first experience with his dragon, I would love to help. When I was five years old, it was a different feeling to communicate with my dragon for the first time. I don't think anyone who hasn't experienced it would know."

y/n smiled again. "That is very kind of you, my Prince. My son is lucky indeed. Prince Daemon came to my chambers yesterday and said he would like to give Maelor sword lessons when he grows up. I think it is a wonderful offer. After all, he is the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms."

Aemond clenched his fist under the table.

He wanted to pick a fight, to vent his anger, but he could not disrespect his mother.

He bit the inside of his cheek to calm himself.

"Did you ever think to consult me before deciding on my son's education, y/n?" Aemond asked angrily.

y/n turned back to Aemond, her smile widening as she saw him getting angry. "No, I didn't."

Aemond was about to say something when the servants began to disturb the food. He had to stop whatever he was going to say.

Not much else happened during the meal. Except that Princess Rhaenyra complimented y/n on her beauty. y/n thanked her. And she said she hoped her son would look like her when he grew up. Everyone at the table laughed except Aemond and the Queen.

After dinner, as everyone continued to drink wine and eat dessert, the King asked the servants to bring his grandson.

y/n's maid immediately brought Maelor into the dining room and gave him to the King.

The King kissed his grandson's head and gave it to his daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, who was waiting by his side.

Princess Rhaenyra took her nephew and went to her sons. Jace, Viserys, and Luke were sitting next to each other.

Rhaenyra looked at y/n for confirmation when her son Viserys insisted on holding the baby. y/n nodded.

Princess carefully handed him to her son.

Jace looked at his cousin with a smile. "What's his name?"

"Maelor," y/n said.

The King's smile grew. "Maelor Targaryen, a name fit for a great lord."

"It certainly is, my King," y/n's father said.

Princess Rhaenyra turned toward y/n. "What a responsibility for a child so young."

The princess loved y/n very much. They had written to each other often for two years. She was one of the most outraged when she heard what her brother had done. "He is just like you. I'm sure he will fulfill his duty without cheating.”

y/n nodded. "He has my father's blood in his veins. I'm sure he will be an honorable man like him."

y/n's mother was proud of her daughter's courage.

The queen wanted to answer her outburst. But she couldn't do it in front of the King. Everyone knew how important it was for her family to be allied with the kingdom.

Aemond, on the other hand, wanted to crawl under the table and hide from everyone. He was embarrassed and annoyed that everyone had been teasing him all day.

Prince Viserys looked at his cousin's face. "He looks a lot like uncle Aegon," he said.

In fact, he looked exactly like his mother, except for his golden-silver hair and beautiful violet eyes. Viserys was too young to be aware of what was happening in the room and did not try to imply anything.

y/n put her hand on the table and leaned toward the brothers. "He really looks like Prince Aegon."

There was a great silence in the dining room.

Aegon was staring at y/n with his mouth open.

Aemond was on the verge of attacking someone.

"After all, he is his uncle. Of course, they can look alike."

Everyone let go of the breath they were holding.

The queen fidgeted uneasily in her seat.

"I suppose." y/n said.

Aemond slammed his hand on the table and stood up, but his mother gestured for him to stop.

"Let's leave the princes and ladies alone to spend some time,” she said. ”And we'll have tea in the King's chambers if you like, my Lord."

“Of course, your grace.”

Aemond squeezed the edge of the table hard, not understanding what his mother was trying to do.

The King, Queen, y/n’s parents, princess Rhaenyra, Lord Laenor, and Prince Daemon rose from the table.

The queen came to her son. "May I speak to you?"

Aemond looked at his wife next to him, but she was not looking at him. Then he nodded and left the room with his mother.

Baela and Rhaena came up to y/n. "If you are bored with the wine at the castle, we have brought some good wine. We are thinking of drinking it in my room if you want to join." Baela said.

y/n looked at the twins and smiled. "I'd love to,"

y/n told her maid to take Maelor to his wet-nurse and left the dining room with the twins.

They went into Baela's room.

The room was empty except for the bed, the armchairs, and Baela's suitcase.

Baela had told her maid not to unpack her belongings as it was unclear how many days they would be at the castle.

She pointed to one of the armchairs. "Have a seat."

As y/n settled into the armchair, Baela took the mentioned bottle of wine out of her suitcase.

There were several glasses on the low table between the armchairs. Baela filled them and handed one to y/n.

She took a few sips and realized that the wine was indeed different. It burned her tongue and throat slightly, but it was more flavorful than the wines at the Red Keep.

"Do you like it, my Lady?"

"I like it very much, but please don't call me that. You can call me by my first name."

"All right then. You need to call us by our names too."

y/n smiled and nodded.

The three of them talked and laughed for a while.

y/n almost choked on her wine when Baela told her a rumor about one of the ladies who lived in the castle.

Then they talked about some of their favorite painters.

Rhaena made a mental note to send y/n a painting as a gift on her name day.

Then, there was a short silence between them.

Baela glanced at Rhaena and then turned to y/n. "There is something we want to talk to you about."

y/n looked at the girl with curious eyes. "What is it?" 'Please not about Aemond.'

"It's about Prince Aemond."

Oh.

y/n's expression instantly hardened. "I guess you know."

"Yes. But we didn't bring it up to bother you," Rhaena said.

Baela got up and sat next to her, and took her hand. "I have people I know and trust in the Riverlands. Especially in Harrenhal, you know, thanks to my husband."

y/n put her wine glass down on the table.

'She knows some people in Harrenhal because of Jace.'

"They said Alys is not pregnant with Aemond's child."

Rhaena continued. "She had a Dornish lover. Aemond hadn't been to see Alys for five months, and the maesters said the baby was three months old. They said Aemond didn't say anything when he saw she was pregnant. After Aemond left, she ran away with her other lover."

y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Baela could read it in her expression. "I know it's hard to believe, but four people told us this separately."

"Who knows?"

"Probably everyone. And those who don't know will soon learn."

y/n nodded. "I'd like to go to my chambers if you'll excuse me."

Baela stood up and gave way to the girl. "Of course."

They said good night to each other, and y/n left the room.

As soon as she stepped into the hallway, she knew where she was going.

She went to Aegon's room and went straight in without knocking.

Aegon jumped slightly from where he stood and turned quickly toward her.

"y/n?"

When she saw Aegon, the tears she had been holding back all the way came to her eyes. "That witch had another lover and was pregnant with his child. She ran off with him a week ago."

Aegon walked toward her in astonishment. "Unbelievable."

"I couldn't believe it either when I first heard it. But it explains Aemond's cold and sullen demeanor." y/n smiled at her own words, her eyes still full. "I mean, colder and more sullen than usual."

Aegon smiled too, but he was worried about her. "Aren't you sorry?"

"Because Alys Rivers left Aemond for a Dornish?" she asked and tried to smile, but a tear fell from her left eye and landed on her chin

Aegon took a step toward her, but she stopped him. "It happens all the time these days. Don't worry."

He clenched his jaw. "Don't worry? Are you out of your mind?!"

y/n was startled by the loudness of his voice.

Aegon's stern expression softened instantly. He cursed himself and Aemond inside. "I'm sorry."

y/n shook her head. "It's not your fault. I guess lack of sleep made me sensitive to the sounds around me."

Aegon clenched his fist and walked past her.

He was about to open the door when y/n ran after him and grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

Aegon turned toward her, fire in his eyes. "If I don't kill him tonight, I won't sleep well."

He was about to take his arm away from her and leave the room when y/n's sobs stopped him.

"Aegon.” She sobbed. “Stay with me.”

Aegon turned back to her and put his hands on her arms. He never knew what to say in these situations. "Can I hug you?"

y/n nodded in agreement.

Aegon immediately wrapped his arms around her waist. y/n put her arms around his back. Aegon kept whispering into her hair that everything would be all right.

y/n felt Aegon kiss her head, but she wasn't sure.

She had stopped crying because of the feeling of relaxing.

"My maid is in there cleaning my bath." Aegon was worried at the idea of her seeing them like this.

y/n smiled as an idea struck her. She raised her voice high enough for the maid to hear. "Aemond can't get hard whenever we have intercourse. Do you have the same problem? It could be a family thing."

Aegon was at a loss for words. "I think it was a fluke that I got pregnant. I'm not sure about this. Can you tell me if it's right or wrong?"

Aegon swallowed and waited for her next move. "Does having a small dick affect getting someone pregnant? If so, I don't think Maelor will have a sibling soon."

Aegon's emotions fluctuated between surprise and admiration.

He grabbed her by the arm and hurried her out of the room. He didn't want the maid to see her disheveled state.

They went to a space in the hallway. "y/n!" He said and laughed.

y/n smiled. Butterflies fluttered in Aegon's stomach at the sight of her.

"What you said will certainly undermine Aemond. But it may also be to your detriment. People won't think it is right for you to speak such things to your husband's brother."

"Fuck people," she said and added. "They won't talk about me when they're busy talking about Aemond."

Aegon leaned toward y/n as he laughed.

y/n had recovered a little.

And then, instantly, the question that had occupied her mind for days and that she had avoided knowing the answer came back to her.

The feeling of being stabbed in the back filled her again.

She kept telling herself that if he knew it, he would have said so. But there was nothing the queen knew that her children didn't know. And it was unlikely that the prince of the realm would not know about something that even the maids in the castle whispered in the corridors.

She just kept lying to herself to keep from losing him.

She took a step away from Aegon. "How long have you known?"

Aegon averted his eyes.

"You were the only one in the castle who knew that I don't exist only to bear children.” She balled her hand into a fist to suppress her anger. “I thought you were my friend.”

"Maybe you don't realize it, but I don't have many friends either."

"So we're friends because we have no other choice."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Aegon looked at her and thought about what he wanted to say. I love you. I can't keep from my tongue what my heart knows. I sleep every night thinking about you and wake up every morning thinking about you. "Only we can understand each other."

"And yet you chose not to come to me as you learned."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. It was hard to choose between my brother and my-" He looked at the ceiling. "My friend."

"If I had a sister, and you were married to her, and if she was cheating on you, I would have come to you the moment I found out. My parents would have been mad at her and made her never see her lover again. That's how we in honorable families deal with such situations."

Aegon bowed his head. "We have never been an honorable family. Pride, perhaps."

"Did you all think that would make your actions forgivable?"

"No." he paused. "Maybe."

"There is no other family that could not handle being Targaryen like the Targaryens."

Aegon grinned. "Can you imagine what would have happened to Westeros if we had all been great warriors and leaders? There is a reason why the gods have made most of us lazy and stupid."

y/n stared at Aegon. "I've never seen a stupid Targaryen except you and your siblings. I think it's a family trait. Your Hightower side, perhaps?"

"It’s likely," he said and smiled.

y/n didn't smile. "I don't know when I can forgive you."

Aegon nodded. "So you will, one day."

y/n turned away. "Don't push your luck too hard."

"I give it a day!" Aegon said as he watched her walk away.

He wondered if the stones on the ground hurt her because if they did, he would pick up each one with his hands.

He was ready to lay down his life for her. But he still had to watch his stupid little brother's back.

After all, blood ran thicker than water.

Aegon cursed himself once more as he tried to console himself inwardly.

y/n was always talking about what a dishonorable family they were, but here Aegon, going through his days without even kissing his brother's wife once.

He had not been to a brothel in two years and had not been with a woman in months.

He felt as devoted to her as his mother had been to the gods.

Aegon's was even more difficult.

The harder it is, the thicker the bond. That's what his mother told him whenever he refused to come to worship with her.

He hoped she was right.

xxx

y/n went to her room. She didn't want to go there. She didn't want to face Aemond.

But she had nowhere else to go.

She walked to the large closet in the room and took a silk nightgown from it. The nightgown was cream-colored, and the fabric was thin enough to chill her at night.

She liked being cold.

I should have married a Stark and gone north, she thought.

She craved wine. She didn't want to think about what she was going through. If she did, she'd keep beating herself up for nothing.

After filling her wine glass, she picked up a random book from the table where the wine decanter had been.

She took the glass and the book and went to bed. She lay down, careful not to spill the wine.

It was one of the history books Aemond had always loved to read.

When she opened the first page, a piece of paper fell out.

When she picked it up and examined it, her hands shook with surprise, and she had to put her wine on the coffee table next to the bed.

y/n's picture was on the paper. She knew it was Aemond's drawing by the softness of the lines.

It was unexpected. Was Aemond in love with her? If so, why was he acting this way toward her? He was always cold around her and acted like he didn't want to be there.

When she turned the picture over, she saw a date. It was about six months after they had been married.

Either Aemond was trying to play with y/n’s mind, or there was something that she couldn't understand.

She had seen Aemond draw before, but it was usually of trees and flowers and how he saw King's Landing as he flew with his dragon.

She placed the picture back into the book.

As she took it to the table, the door knocked.

She walked to the door, sighing.

She opened the door and saw Aemond's long golden-silver hair.

He smelled strongly of wine.

"y/n, my wife."

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"No, I'm not."

Aemond was definitely drunk. But his movements and the way he spoke still looked partly the same. He still had that serious look on his face that he always had. Of course, y/n thought.

"My son, our son. Is he really Aegon's?"

"I don't know, Aemond. We have no way of knowing whose child he is."

y/n straightened her posture. "And it doesn't matter if he is your son or not. No one cares if you have heirs. The only thing that matters to Maelor is my blood. And it is definitely my blood that flows in his veins. He is my heir, and that is all that matters."

Aemond cocked his head to the right. "I do not care as long as he is yours."

y/n tried to close the door. "If you have nothing to say, I'll see you in the morning.

"Do you want to end our marriage?" he said, the seriousness in his eye giving way to sadness.

"Did you hear us in the garden?"

"I did."

"I thought you went in with the king and queen."

"No, I went in after a while."

"And now you're spying on me, Aemond, another dishonor."

Aemond leaned his arm against the door and leaned toward y/n.

"Why don't you want us to stay married?"

"Why?" y/n laughed. "The answer to your question is right in front of your eyes. You cheated on me. And then you decided to come to the castle whenever you felt like it. I'd never been to the Red Keep until the day we got married, Aemond. I had no friends, no one to take my side."

"I don't want her anymore."

"Aemond! You can't go to her even if you want to! I know how she cheated on you. Isn't that ironic?"

"y/n, I always wanted you. I was the one who asked my mother to marry us."

"I know, Aemond. For my inheritance."

"No, no. You-" Aemond struggled to get his words together. "I swear I never loved her." he swallowed and closed his eye tightly. "There are other things." He rubbed his temples. "Other things."

He opened his eye. Under his heavy gaze, y/n was startled.

Even after two years, his gaze still melted her.

"I want to be with you."

"I don't want to."

"Why? Please." He sounded desperate and in pain. “Please.”

"We're only going to stay married to fulfill our duties, Aemond. Do what you want. I don't care. Because I'll do what I want."

Aemond looked confused. He jumped to another topic as if he had not heard her. "Some men from my father's council want me to be the King."

"Aemond! I don't give a shit!"

"You'll be my queen." He paused. "My everything."

y/n looked Aemond straight in the eye.

"Aegon will be the King."

Aemond's face hardened. "Are we still going to talk about him?" No one wants him on the throne."

y/n laughed. Aemond looked at her in surprise. "Is that what all the fuss was about? Is that why you insisted on a son?"

"A son of yours."

y/n laughed again. "Oh, Aemond." She stood up on her tiptoes and approached his face. "I will bear Aegon dozens of sons if he wishes. For our king. If he wills it, that is how I will fulfill my duty to the realm."

Aemond laughed. "Dozens of bastards."

"Oh, you think I would bear our sons out of wedlock."

y/n pressed her finger against Aemond's torso. "When he becomes the King, he will annul your marriage and mine, and then I will marry him.”

Aemond squeezed his hand on the doorjamb tighter. "You are not a maiden."

"I'm not." she brought her hand to his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. "I assure you, he's aware of it.”

Aemond's gaze dropped to her lips.

The one-eyed prince was poisonous.

One of the moments that made him want his wife more was when she hinted that she was cheating on him.

He felt like his blood was boiling, his veins bursting.

He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

He was angry, and he was heartbroken. But at the same time, he was burning with desire.

He leaned his face toward her. "He can't fuck you the way I fuck you."

y/n moved her face closer to Aemond's face. Their noses almost touched. "Lucky me, then.” Her breath hit Aemond's face.

Aemond laughed. The hardness in his pants was becoming uncomfortable.

He tilted his head to the right and leaned toward y/n to kiss her, but she pulled back.

"Good night, Aemond."

She closed the door in his face, leaving Aemond no chance to say anything.

She leaned against the door and took a deep breath. y/n hated him.

But also, she couldn't stop the ache between her thighs.

She was just as poisonous as he was.

next chapter

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 8 months

Text

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey).

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.”

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin.

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could.

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank.

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated.

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal.

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin.

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #trope de sept #sex pollen #bucky x you #frank castle x you #imagine #bucky barnes x you x frank castle

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xerith-42 · 2 months

Text

I was wrong

It takes a lot to admit that, even more for me to admit that about MCD, but I was wrong about something in regards to this series. In a previous post I said that the worst episode of MCD was Season 2 Episode 95, because it was the culmination of the absolute failure that was Laurance's character arc. And I wasn't wrong about that, S2E95 is an objectively bad episode and I stand by it being one of the worst. But it's only one of the worst episodes of this series. Probably second or third worst.

The actual worst episode of Minecraft Diaries happens far earlier in it's run time than I anticipated. The actual episode that begins the degrading of every single main character happens within it's first season. The worst episode of Minecraft Diaries is Season 1 Episode 65, Our Fears.

For those of you who haven't watched MCD in a minute, or aren't insane like I am and recognize what happens in an episode from just a number and a thumbnail, this is the episode where Aphmau and Dante get chased into Malachi's abandoned castle and fall victim to his uncontrollable magic. A magic that shows people their greatest fears.

Now the concept of a ghost that forces the audience and the characters to come face to face with the leading characters greatest fears is a fantastic idea. I'm serious this is one of the best concepts for character work in the entire Aphverse. This is great, this can go so many good ways.

Aphmau's fear is pretty weak mostly because it shows her house on fire, nobody hurt, and Malachi comments that she's "Scared of losing the ones you love." My honest reaction to this was "She lost her house in episode 36 and didn't seem to care because her loved ones are safe. You wanna communicate that she's scared of people dying just show Zoey lying on the ground or something smh." It gets the job done, but not very well.

Dante's fear is the only one that's well done because it's an image of Gene about to rip apart the realm barrier in the Nether. This works surprisingly well despite only being one shot because it gets across Dante's connection to Gene and the Nether pretty well, setting up for the reveal later on. Dante's existence is this episode's single redeeming quality. And as much as I like the guy, he's not enough to hold up the episode after what happens next.

Now, dear viewer who presumably knows the plot of MCD because you've read this far into a post about this single episode, you know that at this point in the series Garroth has been found out by his brother and has the looming threat of the entire O'Khasis military on his mind all the damn time. Zane has already hurt members of his village in direct ways, and only didn't do more damage because he was called away for an emergency. Garroth has already failed to protect one lord, and he's nearly failed to protect another.

Laurance is a shadow knight. And even though the lore of shadow knights is still flimsy at this point, we know that they are very prone to killing lords, it's why Laurance renounced his position as head guard of Meteli and refuses to return. But that doesn't mean his desire for blood is gone. It just means it has a new target. Like say, the lord he comes to the castle in search of? That he has explicit romantic feelings for?

Again, this idea of forcing the audience and the characters to face their greatest fears is such a good idea, especially with these three, because they can all be interlinked. Aphmau fears losing her loved ones, Garroth fears failing to protect his people, and Laurance fears that he'll give into bloodlust. Are you picking up what I'm putting down? I don't know if I can make it anymore obvious where the show should have gone from here.

But, no, unfortunately Jesson wrote this series. So what could have been one of the best moments of character work in the entire series, instead became the beginning of the end for our would be love interests. I'm of course referring to how it's revealed that their actual "worst fear" is Aphmau getting with... Another guy. Not even her picking one over the other, just her holding hands with and kissing some guy that Garroth and Laurance DON'T EVEN KNOW!

And despite Laurance saying he's happy as long as he has Aphmau in his life, he starts getting enraged that another guy would have the audacity to kiss her. Even though the scene he's shown seems to be entirely consensual. And in response to this, BOTH OF THEM DECIDE TO TRY AND KILL THIS ILLUSION OF DANTE JUST FOR KISSING THE GIRL THEY LIKE!

AND THIS IS SEEN AS A GOOD THING BY THE SHOW!! Attacking this illusion breaks the barrier around the real Aphmau and Dante, and Garroth and Laurance are never punished for their actions here. Aphmau is barely concerned that her guards, the men she's willing to trust with her life, were willing to kill someone for the crime of kissing her. Hot fucking take, Aphmau maybe shouldn't trust these people after seeing that they're willing to kill a man over the crime of loving her when they want to.

And even hotter take, GARROTH AND LAURANCE WOULDN'T DO THIS! Both men have been shown to be highly protective over Aphmau, which makes sense it's literally their job to keep her safe, but that protective nature shouldn't cross over into actively interfering with her romantic life. They're fucking lucky it was just an illusion, what would have happened if Malachi used mind control? What if he was using Aphmau and Dante's bodies as puppets? What if Garroth and Laurance just killed an amateur guard whose only crime was being forced to kiss the girl they liked?

This is one of those writing decisions that truly baffles me. It was RIGHT THERE, HOW DID YOU MISS, IT (the perfect piece of character work) WAS THREE FEET IN FRONT OF YOU! The answer is that Jesson don't really care about the interesting character work, they care about tropes. They care about the main character being in a love triangle with two guys who equally suck but in different ways. They care about fans getting excited and debating over which ship is better. They care about pushing this love triangle onto viewers regardless of what makes sense for the characters involved because the writers fail to see the nuance of the characters that they fucking wrote the nuance of.

I fucking hate Episode 65. Easily the worst episode of MCD. Any episode after this when Garroth and Laurance act horrendously out of character in service of this love triangle (I'm looking at you episode 77, and episode 90, and season 2 episode 95, and season 2 episode 98), know that it started here. It started with episode 65.

Fuck this episode.

#I love being a hater #minecraft diaries #mcd #text post #aphblr #aphverse #laurance zvahl #garroth ro'meave #mcd aphmau #episode analysis #fuck episode 65 #me and my homies fucking hate episode 65 #actually despise this episode

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 28 days

Note

Would T-Rex from Dinosaur Comics / Qwantz comics by Ryan North survive?

I feel like this is in large part going to be based on whether or not t-rex blood is vamp food & if t-rexs can be mind controlled??? Might come down to an actual fight.

T-Rex probably stomps on the woman with a crucifix, but he doesn't shave, so probably ok. He does have a personal friendship with both God & Satan though?

T-Rex is not great at social niceties, so I don't know if Dracula will want him around for very long, but T-Rex is also a dinosaur so I don't know if Dracula can actually get him to leave. Maybe they bond over being apex predators???

T-Rex can definitely not climb (those lil arms!), but he might be able to out predator the wolves & eat them.

I am going to apologize in advance for the fact that I just do not possess the philosophical education or terminology to give this subject the treatment it deserves. When it comes to philosophy, I possess the wisdom of Socrates: I know what I do not know. I know that the three characters of Dinosaur comics embody different philosophical archetypes. I know that T-rex's rhetorical style has a name, as does his axiology. I could not for the life of me tell you what they are. I remand the deeper analysis to Philosophy Side of Tumblr

Given the metaphysical reality of the comic strip, I think it is fair to understand T-rex as an ensoulled being, in which case his blood might be attractive to Dracula. I am not up to date on the scientific thinking around the penetrability of tyrannosaur skin, but they definitely don't osteoderms and I don't believe we have found any evidence of scutes or scales. We have also found zero evidence of feathers, despite looking really really hard, and so while the current understanding is that feathers on dinosaurs are the rule, not the exception, T. rex seems to have been exceptional. Which is moot because T-rex the character definitely lacks them. So I am going to say that Dracula can physically bite T-rex and has a tentative interest in so doing.

T-rex has a strong interest in religion on a philosophical level, but he is definitely not Anglican. He would accept the crucifix specifically to argue with Utahraptor over whether or not it was idolatrous - though I don't think the townsfolk would offer it given all the stepping on dudes and houses he gets up to. And as you say, he doesn't shave. He also has no need of mirrors, as he already knows how cool and sexy he is.

On that level, I think he would be difficult for Dracula to psychologically torment. Now, while it is true that Jonathan Harker also goes into Castle Dracula already knowing how cool and sexy he is, and that provides him some level of protection, he's just not on T-rex's level. I would venture that not even Zaphod Beeblebrox is on T-rex's level, which is impressive because Zaphod literally has an ego the size of the entire universe. I don't think T-rex can be gaslit, because he would enthusiastically take any doubts about his own sanity as a jumping off point for philosophical examination and possibly epistemology. He probably is susceptible to Brain Fever. When Ornithomimus finds him in Budapest he doesn't know who he is but he knows his genitals are GREAT.

The main source of conflict will be that both T-rex and Dracula really like hearing themselves talk. I don't think Dracula would be very pleased slipping into the role of Utahraptor and letting T-rex take the lead - and T-rex can't stop being the thing that he is any more than Dracula can. If they can work out a mutually satisfying conversational structure, I think T-rex could keep Dracula entertained indefinitely. He would definitely have thoughts about changing attitudes towards violent conquest. They might discuss the nature of the soul and the extent to which treating it as transactional (eg in Faust) is compatible with Christian teaching, or whether you can be damned without your own participation (say, by being turned into a vampire). T-rex may be curious about dabbling in vampirism provided he can do so temporarily - which, given T-rex, he is confident he can.

T-rex definitely cannot climb down the wall with those itty bitty arms. He probably can't fit through the window. On the other hand I am not sure walls can contain him (there are no walls in the comic save on the stomped cabin). I do not think he would be deterred by Dracula's doors or his wolves.

So I think T-rex of Dinosaur Comics can survive Castle Dracula, and raise some very interesting questions while he's there

Unrelatedly, the @wheresjonno project last summer ended up giving Jonathan Harker a pet T. rex named Hamlet, but she's an entirely different character who doesn't fit in the London Underground. Nevertheless.

#qwantz #dinosaur comics #t-rex #animals #webcomics

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acesw · 4 months

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The Grecos, Schneider, and her Religious Trauma

One of the characters I really find interesting is Schneider. There are strong signs that she has religious trauma, which ties really well with the neglect she's experienced growing up and the way this trauma reflects her behaviors and words.

The Grecos are known to be really religious, and they're quite devout to Christianity as a means of life. It does not mean that they wouldn't do things to ensure that they're able to at least eat. Living in Chicago of all places is already one struggle enough, making sure they get by despite having bad relationships with gangs adds so much.

Prior to moving, they were more devoted to God as coming from a community in Sicily. They moved because of how bad the poverty situation had been (the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s), hoping to seek a better life in America. Of all places though, they moved to Chicago, where there were crimes and gangs all about. This resulted to the Grecos having to pull strings to keep their head up the water, and they still practice Christianity as a means to maintain morale.

We then have Schneider. The youngest and most neglected child of the Grecos. She was barely fed and paid attention to among her 11 older sisters. The Narrator also notes that she was even neglected from the start, as she turned a year old before her father realized she wasn't baptized.

Now, there are two main instances that showcase Schneider's religious trauma peeking through are the traces "From One Castle to Another" and "Long Night Trip". Both of which are very much talking about Schneider's past. There are parts of the dialogue that stick out to me.

-From One Castle to Another

"It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist. But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself."

"The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long-handed umbrellas. [...] But you can't find Schneider. [...] It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, 'The Lord be with you.' " " 'And also with you.' Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last."

-Long Night Trip

The Narrator talks about Schneider's slow descent into losing her faith in these conversations. She used to pray and hope that God would fix things and give an answer for her and her family's suffering. And all that happened was that it got worse.

It only ever makes Schneider question and doubt, and eventually she stops believing in God. But everyone around her, her family in particular, still maintains their strong belief that he'd guide them out of struggle. Meanwhile, she take things into her own hands for that matter.

And again, everyone would resort to praying, praying, and praying. Yet Schneider wouldn't dare try. Because if he listened to her this one time then they heard all the other times and never cared to help. That rubs salt in the wound.

So with this, we see how Schneider creates her newfound identity. She starts frequenting underground markets and doing certain odd jobs. She is able to make amends with other gang leaders and grow her own strong faction in Chicago.

All so she makes enough money for the rest of her family to eat and thrive. It showcases her sense of selflessness, her full care for her family despite how they treated her. She cares for them more than anything, because even with barely receiving love, they're the ones that raised her. Schneider actively does it all to prove that she can give.

Even in the main story there are those hints of that trauma seeping through. Throughout the game she refers to her bosses as "My Lord", a name that's usually reserved for God.

In the 'Green Oranges' segment of chapter 2, we see that Schneider's younger self describes America as a new world. A place of wonders, where blessings will be given and all sins will be forgiven. There, "God loves the world". Because back in Sicily, she believes that God does not love her and her family here. This ties back to the major Italian emigration in the 1900-1910s, where again, the poverty situation had been so bad. Not to mention the overpopulation and the natural disasters that came with it.

Meanwhile, her adult self is heavily injured from the gunshot wounds and Vertin stops shooting her. She expresses her frustration of being unable to die fast, which then turns to this: "Or did God finally forgive me...He allowed me...to stay alive!!"

"God would never make or guide one to that first action," Schneider thinks, because only she alone did it. She decided to step in, with no guidance of the God she once loved. The God that never forgave her.

The entirety of chapter 1 and 2 shows that her trauma runs really deep. The youngest and most neglected child turns into the most diligent and faithless Greco. She expresses her clear disdain for God, and does everything in her own power to do what "he never did for her and her family."

#reverse 1999 #schneider #schneider reverse 1999 #character analysis #she and marian definitely reunited with their family #they deserve their happy ending #schneider needs a hug

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abyssruler · 2 years

Text

archons ft. reincarnation

venti, zhongli, raiden ei x gn!reader

summary: you were dead—until you appeared again hundreds of years later, that same smile on your lips that made them fall for you centuries ago.

word count: 4.6k

note: first time posting my work on tumblr!

warning/s: spoilers for venti’s story quest and raiden shogun’s story quest act i & ii, angst, brief descriptions of past character death (reader)

part 2

VENTI

Venti’s fingers glide through the strings of his lyre, the perpetually gloomy weather exacerbating the melancholic undertone of his song.

“The outside world…” you muse, sitting beside your bard of a friend, watching the towering castle in the distance where your possessive god resides. “I wonder what it’s like.”

Small, melodic bells chime from your shoulder. You turn your head in order to face the wind spirit you call a friend. His little face is scrunched up, as if he’s regaling you tales of the scenery beyond Mondstadt. You don’t understand him, none of you do, but you indulge him with a smile anyway.

“Mhm. Oh, is that so? Yeah, I think so too. That seems lovely!” He bobs his head in agreement with your words, and you laugh at the adorable sight. You return your gaze to the castle by the distance, a wistful look in your eyes. “I’d like to see it one day. I bet the sky is so blue and the lands stretch on for miles and miles until you lose sight of the other end. The weather would be warmer too, because the sun would always be out.”

The little wind sprite lets out a tinkling sound. You don’t know what he’s trying to tell you, but you pretend that you do.

“Yeah. I wonder if the grass is greener outside of Mondstadt. It must be. There wouldn’t be constant rain over there so the plants won’t always be so damp and mushy. The sky must be full of birds, all of them just flying freely without a care in the world.”

Your bard of a friend listens quietly to your musings, now playing a softer song with his lyre. In contrast, your little spirit friend circles around your head, chiming something and pointing to the castle in the distance with his little hood.

For once, you think you understand what he’s trying to say. “Lord Decarabian, huh?” Something in you brews uncomfortably as you mention your god, so you try to lighten the atmosphere, “I don’t think he’ll agree even if we ask very nicely.”

Your little friend lets out a series of bell chimes that somehow lets you know what he thinks about your little joke. It’s only when Venti suddenly stops playing his lyre that the wind spirit quiets down.

You turn to him questioningly, finding him already looking at you with those blue eyes of his, always so bright despite being born in a perpetually gloomy city. There’s a contemplative frown on his face as he moves his gaze from you, to your little friend, to the castle in the center of the city.

Finally, he opens his mouth.

“Then let’s not ask,” he says, his eyes fixed on the looming castle. “He keeps his people in this city and forces us to call it freedom, but what is freedom if demanded of you by a god?”

“Venti…” you say in warning. Somehow, you get the feeling you’re not going to like what he’s about to say.

Somehow, you get the feeling you’re going to agree anyway.

He smiles at you and the wind sprite you call a friend, bright and optimistic. “I want to see the outside world too, so let’s fight to see it. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat, looking at him and your little friend. “A bard, a warrior, and a wind sprite. Sounds like the beginning of a long tale.” You gaze at the castle in the distance once more. “I wonder how it will end.”

Venti laughs. “It’ll be a happy ending. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bell chimes ring in the air as the small wind sprite circles the air in front of you, exclaiming his agreement to Venti’s words.

A thought occurs to you.

“Well, a tale isn’t complete if one of the main characters is nameless,” you say, offering your palm for him to rest in. Your little friend hops into it, sighing little happy bells.

A name. What name would suit him, you wonder. Looking up at the sky above, nothing sparks any inspiration. There’s only dark clouds holding the threat of rain. If you look closely enough, you think you can peek through those clouds and see something resembling the blue sky of the world outside. Wishful thinking, of course, the clouds in Mondstadt are thick enough to cover miles in the sky.

But if you squint an eye and tilt your head to the left, you think you can see a hint of a silhouette, something floating far above—

Then you avert your gaze back to your friend resting in the palm of your hands. A gust of wind blows past you. Maybe it’s premonition, or maybe you just wanted the best for him, but in that moment, you imagine that out of the three of you, it is this little spirit in your hands who will achieve the greatest of things.

A name pops up in your mind and begins to take root. “What do you think of the name Barbatos?”

He immediately zips up, twirling in the air in front of you and nuzzling your cheek affectionately. And just like that, the moment is broken, and he is back to being just your little friend.

“You like it, huh?” His answer comes in the form of a series of tinkling bells. You smile. “It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”

✧

Two thousand and six hundred years later, the wind spirit turned archon stands on a raised platform, a lyre in hand and performing a song he hasn’t sung in five hundred years.

A bell chimes, signifying an entry to the door of the tavern, such an innocuous sound for the impending tragedy he is about to relive.

The last chord is strung. The crowd claps, disperses and thins. A lone figure makes their way to the front.

Someone clears their throat.

He looks up.

And suddenly he is back to that day millennia ago, just a little wind sprite tinkling bells in the palm of your hand. An apple for breakfast, lunch and dinner, your teasing remarks about how he isn’t going to be able to fly anymore if he keeps gaining weight. The song of the friend he embodies resonating with his soul.

How simple life had been, back when dreams of revolution and gods were just that: dreams.

Hushed talks of freedom between each round of song, the wistful look on your face as you mused how vast the outside world must be. Full of plains and lush grass, you imagined. And when Barbatos left the ruins of Old Mondstadt, one third of a whole, he made your dreams come true as he flattened mountains and brought warm winds to fend away the cold.

He only wished all three of you had been there to see it, instead of just him alone.

“What a lovely song! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you perform here in Angel’s Share before. What’s your name?” You smile at him, all soft and lovely with a hint of nostalgia in the corner of your eyes. As beautiful as the day he lost you.

He never realized how much he’d started to forget what you looked like until you appeared right in front of him, a ghost from two thousand years past.

Do you remember him? Do you miss him as much as he’s missed you? Will you forgive him for not letting go of the past, for taking on the appearance of your beloved friend? Have you been well? Do you have many friends? Any family?

Is there someone you hold dear to your heart already, someone who holds you close, who would never let you fight alone. Someone who won’t kneel helplessly as you died in their arms, smiling amidst the numbing pain from the gaping wound in your chest. Have you already found someone who will protect and care for you, because if not, then—

In this life, will you finally love him the way he loves you?

What’s your name?

His name, the name you gave him, is on the tip of his tongue. Barbatos, it’s a pretty name, isn’t it? And he was never able to tell you how much he agreed with you, how much he loved the name you gave him. He wants to tell you how he’s made Barbatos more than just a little wind spirit, wants to ask if you’re proud of him for achieving the freedom you once sought for—but most of all, he wants to tell you how much he loves you for giving him his name, his identity.

When the drinks become too much and his mind muddles the distinction between himself and his friend—is he Venti, or is it someone else?—he tries to remember you and the way his name rolled off your tongue. Barbatos. On his worst days, when everything becomes too much, when he tries to remember the way your voice sounded only to realize that he’s starting to forget, he says it to himself.

Barbatos.

It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?

And he smiles to himself and says yes out loud, and the other patrons will think he’s had too much to drink again, and he’ll shrug off their judging gazes and ignore the bartender’s disapproving look because finally, he remembers what you once sounded like as you spoke his name.

He wants to tell you how much you’ve done for him, even if you weren’t here with him.

But he bites back his tongue and puts on a well practiced smile, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the lack of recognition in your eyes.

“The name’s—” Barbatos “—Venti! And who might you be, oh beautiful stranger?”

The sound of your laughter soothes two thousand and six hundred years worth of pain within the span of a few seconds. He keeps the memory of it locked in his chest. It is ridiculous, the ease with which you burrow yourself back into his heart with just a laugh—though in hindsight, perhaps it isn’t so ridiculous after all. You never really left his heart even after thousands of years.

As your name falls from your lips, Venti decides it’s alright if you don’t remember him, that it’s alright if the name you call him now isn’t the name you gave him long ago.

Just being able to see you again is enough.

ZHONGLI

“I am thinking of retiring.”

You lean your elbows on the wooden railings, resting your face in the palm of your hands as you looked up at him. “Retiring? I don’t think Hu Tao would approve.”

“No, no,” he clarifies, “Not in Wangsheng Funeral. I have…another job that I wish to retire from.”

“You have two jobs, Zhongli? Never would have guessed with how relaxed you always are.” He cracks a faint smile at that.

“My other job is not very demanding of my time. Nevertheless, it holds an important role in Liyue.” The wind blows against him, his hair billowing in the breeze as he stood above the harbor. Somehow, you imagine him in white, a hood pulled over his head and a spear in his hand as he gazed down an imaginary foe in the sea.

The image leaves a strange feeling in you, so you quickly shake it away from your thoughts and focus on his earlier words.

“Are you some kind of big shot? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! Here I was talking to you so casually—” Your eyes widen in realization. “Ah! You were undercover this whole time, weren’t you? Are you gonna report me to the Tianquan for disrespect—” You’re interrupted by the sound of Zhongli’s soft laughter.

He gazes at you with such soft amber eyes you’re almost half-inclined to believe it’s the sun playing tricks on you.

How mesmerizing. How familiar. You think you’ve seen this sight before, you just can’t put a finger when.

“My work is not that kind of work. It is…complicated, to say the least. You need not worry about any perceived disrespect, I don’t mind at all.”

Your shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank Rex Lapis. I thought I was about to face the wrath of the rock or something.”

He stills, hands clenching against the railings for the briefest of moments before relaxing. It goes unnoticed by you. “Wrath of the rock… I don’t believe I have spoken such words in your presence before.”

“Really?” You turn to him with furrowed brows. Now that you think about it, you don’t think he’s ever said that phrase before. How strange, where did it come from then? “Must’ve been something I read somewhere. You talk like an old man so much, Zhongli, I’m starting to confuse words from old books with your ramblings.”

Looking away, he stares past the railings and into the harbor below, something almost melancholic in his eyes. “Perhaps.”

“So,” you say to distract him from whatever caused that look to form in his eyes, “Are you really retiring?”

He looks at you, still with those sad, sad eyes that makes something in you churn uncomfortably. So you place a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes widen at the gesture, and you give him the brightest smile you can muster.

“Well, whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you all the way!” And maybe your words got through to him, or maybe he saw something in your smile, but Zhongli chuckles, deep and rumbling. You once said it sounded like a dragon’s, and his face twisted into something you couldn’t quite read.

“Ever the optimist,” he tells you, fondness replacing that melancholic look in his eyes. “It is one of the many aspects that I admire about you.”

Your face heats up. Looking away from that affectionate look, you attempt to make light of his words. “H-Ha! Don’t go falling for me now, Zhongli. I’ll break your heart if you do!”

(You already have, Zhongli thinks, his heart beating a painful yet nostalgic tune in his chest.)

He waves your words away.

“Of course, such is to be expected of you,” he says idly, almost cryptically. You’re tempted to ask what that means, but he has the frustrating habit of pretending to be oblivious when he doesn’t want to answer a question, even though you can totally see through the act.

“Now back to the original topic!” You’re back to leaning your arms against the railings. Zhongli follows your actions by resting his gloved hands on the polished wood. “So, retirement, huh?”

He hums. “I was uncertain this morning, but our conversation has been quite enlightening. I have you to thank for solidifying my decision.” You watch him look over Liyue’s harbor, at the people down by the docks all working together like pieces in a cog. There’s something like pride in Zhongli’s eyes as he stares at the people. “Liyue is in good hands, is it not?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Lady Nigguang’s a real scary one, but she’s the best at her job. The Yuheng can afford to take a break now and then, but Keqing’s great at whatever she puts her mind in. Captain Beidou’s not exactly a government official, but she’s a known figure of the people, and she’s got a real good head on her shoulders—not to mention, real fun to hang out with!” You snicker at the memory of getting into a drinking contest with her. You lost, obviously, but the experience was worth it.

It’s then that you realize you haven’t mentioned the most important person in all of Liyue.

“And Rex Lapis…” Zhongli seems to straighten at the mention of your archon. “He only comes down to Liyue once a year now in the past few centuries. Well, that’s to be expected since Liyue’s at peace now. I guess even gods need to rest every now and then.”

(Something in his chest twists at your words.)

“Yes, they do, don’t they?” he agrees, his voice solemn.

You nod. “He’s probably over in Celestia partying with the other gods. You think he’s shacking it up with his partner up there? Heh, at least one of us is getting some.”

The reaction you receive is unexpected, but pleasantly surprising nonetheless.

Zhongli lets out a full blown laugh, head tilted back and shoulders shaking, eyes closed with mirth. You stare with your jaw open, unable to take your eyes off him even as his laughter begins to die down. It looks just like—

A man in white robes, veins of gold running down his arms as he held his stomach. His head tilted back, the ground shaking with the force of his laughter, his hood falling down to reveal familiar amber eyes gazing at you with mirth, fondness lurking beneath his smile—

“Ah, I truly have missed this.” Missed you, he doesn’t say, but you hear it all the same.

You decide that critical thinking really isn’t for you, so you brush away the strange not-memory and the feelings that rise up when he looks at you like that.

Teasingly, you grin at him. “Aw, Zhongli, it was only a week yet you missed me that much? Don’t worry, I missed you too.”

The quirk in his lips seems to tell you that he expected such an answer from you.

He then turns his head up, gazing into the mid-afternoon sky, your teasing forgotten.

“Once I retire, allow me to invite you for an afternoon of drinking osmanthus wine. I recently discovered a merchant selling top quality wine, and once i acquired a taste, it truly was—as per the merchant’s words—as if you have been taken back to a thousand years ago.”

There’s a quip waiting to to be said at the tip of your tongue, a joke at how he’s secretly been an old grandpa this entire time, but you swallow back the urge to let out the lighthearted joke.

There’s a fragility to this moment that you can’t quite put a finger on, so you hold back your usual retort and mull over your decision.

“I’d like that,” you say after a few heartbeats.

Zhongli smiles, and this time it’s less delicate, more sure of himself.

“I look forward to it.”

✧

You nearly barf once the liquid enters your mouth. All those drinking contests with Beidou has made your stomach weak. But the sight of Zhongli serenely sipping his own osmanthus wine reminds you to have enough tact not to mention how bad it tastes for you.

To delay your second sip, you decide to ask, “How is it?”

Zhongli places his cup down, the procelain making a soft noise as it meets the saucer. He then looks up, sees you holding your own cup of osmanthus wine and trying not to look constipated at the taste, and he smiles at the familiar sight.

“It tastes the same as I remember.”

“Oh my, Your Eternal Excellency! It’s an honor to have your most exalted presence in the Yae Publishing House!”

Her entire world stops, suspended in a haze, narrowing down to this little booth in a random street in the city of Inazuma. Time stretches on for eternity, while the god chasing it is stuck staring at the sight of a familiar, beautiful, ephemeral mirage.

There’s a friendly smile on your lips, not a hint of nervousness at being in the presence of a god such as herself. You’ve always been so fearless. Brave and courageous and stupid and self-sacrificing. Ei loved and hated that attribute of yours, back when she was still capable of loving someone without ruining them.

“Ei? Are you alright?”

For a moment, she lets herself believe it was your voice that spoke those words to her. Soft, soothing tones that once lulled her to rest after a day of training non-stop to improve her martial skills, back when a kagemusha like her was still granted the luxury of rest.

Sleep, Ei. Even gods need some shut eye.

But this is one of the many flaws of ephemerality—the moment for engaging in selfish delusions ends far too soon.

It takes all of her willpower to tear her gaze from you in order to face the Traveler.

“Yes, just a little surprised.” Years and years of experience has taught her to control her voice. It will not waver, not even in the presence of her once-dead lover.

“You sure? You kinda spaced out for a while back there,” the floating pixie who calls herself Paimon remarks.

“Yes, I am quite fine,” she says.

Although, is she truly? Perhaps not, but five hundred years of solitude has hardened her. Had this been before, perhaps she would have wept upon seeing you again, alive and whole and not painting the grass with a pool of your own blood.

Ei directs her attention to the Traveler. “Now, what were you saying about those light novels?”

For the rest of her time in the Yae Publishing House, she spends it dutifully avoiding your curious gaze. Even going so far as to wait by the railings as the Traveler picked a light novel for her to read.

She heard you speak to the Traveler once, making a suggestion regarding the selection.

“I think she’ll like this one!”

You were right, she did like it.

✧

Ei tries not to, but every time she ventures out of Tenshukaku to see more of her people, she passes by the Yae Publishing House that you, more often than not, watch over.

✧

The leylines near the roots of the Sacred Sakura Tree are being strange.

Walking with the Traveler after the disappearance of Furuyama, the blind tea-brewer, is solemn. The path they’re traversing in is painfully familiar. She tries not to remember what the scenery would have looked like five hundred years ago.

A twig snaps. She and the Traveler whirl at the direction of the noise—

And Ei is once again faced with the ghost of her past.

“Ei, is it really you?”

She has seen you in this era, wearing a kind smile and modern clothes. Always so welcoming despite the strangeness of the Raiden Shogun visiting a light novel store every other week. No, your appearance is not what makes her stumble, makes her breathless and teary-eyed as she closes the remaining distance between you.

It is the way you are looking at her. Because finally, finally there is recognition in your eyes.

You are solid beneath her touch, not an apparition, not a mirage. Your armor digs into her skin as she embraces you, her heart the lightest it’s been in five hundred years.

You’re sweaty and dirty and a little bit bloody, but Ei has seen you in the worst state possible. Dirtying her immaculate clothing is a small price to pay for this brief moment.

The Traveler watches with wide eyes, reconciling the image of the warrior in worn, outdated armor with the kind, cheerful editor of the Yae Publishing House.

“I was starting to lose hope,” you tell her, voice low with a quiet sort of relief. The smile she receives makes her feel young again, a kagemusha who fell in love with one of her sister’s retainers. “Now that you’re here, I’m sure everything will be alright.”

The future you speak of is nonexistent. The moment you died—her last hope, the only remaining light in her life after the death of her sister and companions—everything became a far cry from alright.

But Ei will tell you none of this. Your current self is safe in Inazuma City, living in the future she created with her own hands. But you of the past, the one she loved dearly, you know nothing of this future, of what will happen—had happened—to you, and she will keep it that way.

Perhaps this is just her way of attempting to alleviate her guilt upon your death, but she wants this ghost of you to move on with the knowledge that everything will be fine, even if all of it is a lie.

This time, it is her that prompts you to rest your head on her lap, stroking your hair and watching you be lulled to sleep.

“Rest now. I will handle the rest.”

Your eyes flutter closed for the final time, taking her hand in yours. You leave her with parting words that will resonate deep within her soul for the rest of eternity.

“You don’t have to do everything alone, Ei.”

✧

One would think that after battling herself for five hundred years, her first words to her dear friend would be to ask how Inazuma is, but perhaps five hundred years has made her a bit more selfish. So instead, she asks about you.

“How is…?” Ei doesn’t need to mention your name for Yae to know who she’s referring to.

“Oh, still delightful as ever, that one. Asks about you often, though. Far too often, in my opinion. Why, if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought I was only being approached so I can be the relayer of any news relating to you.” Yae shakes her head fondly. “Even without memories of your time together, that little one is still so smitten with you.”

Ei’s cheeks turns a light shade of pink. At the sound of Yae’s snicker, she turns a frown at the devious kitsune.

“Miko…”

“Oh, come now. Can’t a girl have a little bit of fun? Although, none of what I said was untrue.” Yae’s tone softens just the slightest bit, knowing the delicacy of anything regarding you. After a moment though, a sly smile makes its way to her lips. “If you have any tips on how to woo someone, be sure to tell me, Ei. Authors these days just have no imagination for romance, always so dry and boring.”

It’s a simple teasing remark, one of many that Yae is prone to saying. Ei shouldn’t respond to it, but she can’t help but say the first word that comes to her mind.

“Gifts.”

✧

“Your Eternal Excellency!”

The genuine surprise in your face leaves her amused. You quickly attempt to fix your messy hair and rumpled clothes. Had it been anyone else, she would have thought them lazy for being so unkempt, but you manage to make even the smallest of things endearing.

She supposes some things stay the same, even in a new life and a new era.

“I came to bring you a gift,” she says, holding out the Raiden Shogun statue that was sent to the Tenshukaku that morning.

You stare at the object with wide eyes, like you’re unable to believe that your archon is giving you an actual gift instead of the other way around.

When she set out in search of you that afternoon, she thought giving you something would be a good gesture. Although, in hindsight, gifting you a statue of herself may come off as conceited of her. Ah, she really should ask someone for advice before she approaches you next time.

Before she can apologize and return the statue, you’re already taking it from her hands, a look of wonder crossing your face as you inspected it.

“This was sold out hours ago! I was planning on buying one but I got there too late!” Casual. You speak so casually, as if the person you’re speaking to isn’t the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder.

As if the person you’re speaking to is simply her, Ei. Not the Raiden Shogun. Not the Electro Archon. Just Ei.

You give her your best smile. “Thank you.”

Can a person still be the same person even without their memories?

Ei doesn’t know, but perhaps she’ll find out soon.

part 2

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #archons x reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #ei x reader #raiden ei x reader #raiden shogun x reader #gn reader

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joydemorra · 1 month

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Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more... [read the full blurb here]

What is Hunger Pangs?

Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.

It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.

The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.

No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.

There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.

How Did Phangs come to be?

Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.

Eventually, it culminated in this post:

(source)

It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.

A throwaway ADHD impulse.

Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.

I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.

Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)

What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?

In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.

It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.

Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.

If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.

It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.

As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.

The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.

While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.

It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.

(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)

Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.

Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.

Especially when you’re different.

And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.

To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com

#hunger pangs: true love bites #info post #Hunger Pangs master post

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 5 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 10

Goddess In Distress | Loki x Reader

With the help of the Avenger's intel Loki is able to find you, but is rescuing you too easy? And why do your captors wear such a familiar sigil?

Warnings: 18+, violence, suggestion of drugging/medicating the reader, death (no main character deaths), bamf Loki taking no prisoners.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

It felt like an eternity had passed before the jet finally touched down on the rugged coast line, below the silent engines the waves crashed into the cliff face sending fine sprays of salt water up into the sky, dancing on the slick rocks and making rainbows dance even in the grey light.

“This is it,” Tony lifted his hand to flick a few switches above his head, the jet slowing to a dull hum as the wheels met the soft grass and Loki jumped from his seat to look out through the cockpit window, hoping to see some glimpse of you, a suggestion that you were still okay.

He knew it though, deep in his soul something thrummed, a power that was not his own, it called to him, seeking his support, seeking his own sedir to lean upon. But he couldn’t see you.

Set back from the edge of the cliff face, all he could see was a ruined tower, a majestic swirl of pale white stone weathered with age and veins of lichen. Across the remaining intact walls were a series of high narrow windows, anything larger than an arrow slit was also adorned with rusted metal bars spoiling the Romantic aspect with the knowledge that this was no defensive position, this was a prison.

Whoever was behind this had either little imagination of they were truly ancient, for it was clear the castle hadn’t even been inhabited in centuries, although Friday told them it had once been a stronghold protecting the coast Loki was concerned that a stiff breeze might finish it off, judging by the tumble of rocks at its base.

“Where is she?” Thor looked at Loki, expectant. “What is the cunning plan, brother?” Thor’s hand clapped Loki on the shoulder. Loki was taken aback, it was a rare day that Thor would defer to him. “We have a castle to storm, but it’s your Princess we’re saving.” Thor gave Loki’s shoulder a squeeze, his eyes glinting with the anticipation of battle.

Loki reached his hand out and gripped Thor’s forearm in thanks, a silent conversation between the brothers. The moment was spoiled only by the sound of Tony’s suit whirring to life behind them and his sharp cough.

Loki rolled his eyes, addressing Thor and ignoring the Avenger and the crass clanking of his outfit.

Instead he allowed that ancient feeling to once more well inside of him, to guide his thoughts, it washed over him, picking him up like a summer wave and pointed him towards you. The tower, how cliche. Thor followed his gaze and grinned, he had no doubt that Loki would set you free, but how amusing that you were truly locked in the tower. He wondered what kind of dragon would be guarding you.

“She’s high,” Loki stated, he could feel the brine in the breeze that chafed your cheeks, so there was a window at least. “Probably the tower, but perhaps the battlements.”

Loki allowed his magic to eddie around him as he spoke manifesting his Asgardian leathers in one golden swirl. The weight of his broad sword a sudden and reassuring presence.

“She’s trying to get her thoughts through.” He squinted against the pain piercing his skull, each throb of your telegraphed magic like the beat of a heart, making light dance in front of his eyes. He pushed back, sending hope and calm down whatever bond your magic had formed, and the throbbing dulled.

“Brother?” Thor looked concerned and Loki realised he’d been pressing his hands into the sockets of his eyes to try and alleviate the pain.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Loki brushed a hand through his hair and surveyed the castle again. “We should circle the walls, find a high room, we have the element of surprise, but we don’t know how many guards we might be facing.

“Three,” Tony said, tapping the faceplate on his suit. “Two in the main courtyard and one up there.”

Tony pointed at one of two remaining towers that flanked the corners of the otherwise ruined castle. Like its counterpart, it was roofed with grey slate and wooden batons. Trying to send that same hum of calm towards you, Loki focussed his thoughts. You were praying again, chanting his name quietly and like a siren you called to him, he took a few slow mesmerised steps forwards before Thor slapped a hand on his chest.

“That doesn’t seem a lot?” Thor looked confused, “it looks like a trap.” Loki gave Thor an incredulous look. Concerned as he was, Thor was still grinning, positively giddy at the thought of a fight.

“She’s definitely in there, she’s alive, she isn’t hurt, but her vitals suggest she’s been starved and there’s something in her system. A sedative maybe,” Tony kept reading from Friday’s scans. “And it really is just the three of them.”

“So she doesn’t have her magic?” Thor looked between Loki and Tony, “but Loki, you could feel her?”

Loki rubbed his temples again, the headache was back. The pressure of you trying to reach him pressing down like a lead weight.

“She’s trying, she’s fighting it. If they’ve managed to control her magic, stop her accessing it somehow, it doesn’t mean it isn’t still there. It’s searching for her, I can feel it pulling at me. She is strong, but she is unarmed against three suspected Asgardians. One of them has some sort of magic, that must be how they left Norway. The other two are at the very least cruel, if the machine’s statistics are to be trusted.” Loki waved his hand at Tony’s suit and earned himself a raised eyebrow. “We must be quick and fast, we can not risk them moving her again.”

We must act with the element of surprise. Quick, fast.” Loki’s twin daggers flashed in his hands and he gave them a theatrical twirl before placing them in their scabbards. “I will find her.”

Tony and Thor took guard positions, the God paced the outside of the walls while Iron Man hovered around the empty battlements.

Tony had wanted to blast in and out but Thor stopped him, hand on his chest “let him do this. Let him be the hero for her” and Tony, to his own surprise, softened. Maybe he was getting romantic in his old age, maybe he couldn’t be bothered with arguing.

“Fine. 10 minutes then I blow a hole in the wall and get this over with.”

“Stark you cannot blow a hole in the wall, if these are Asgardian men…” Thor’s protests faded in Loki’s ears as he took his opportunity to sneak away, swift and sure across the grass he made his way to the base of the tower and peered around into the open courtyard behind it.

There was a single guard seated by the wooden door at the base of the tower, slumped forward in his seat, his arms folded.

Loki frowned, it was almost insulting, the man was asleep. With another look behind him to make sure that Thor and Stark were still occupied with their squabble Loki crept closer, running his hand over the guards forehead to try and encourage a deeper sleep, but he felt nothing. Instead only an odd, empty sensation was returned, but the guard slept on.

Ignoring his suspicions, Loki picked his way across the courtyard, the nagging sense that this was all too good to be true nipping at his heels.

The door creaked open, its heavy hinges straining on the hard, frozen ground beneath. The stones that should have paved the interior were worn and had been taken over by writhing tendrils of ivy and moss making his steps softer but the tread slippery.

A heavy footfall told Loki there was another guard above, so he paused, listening to the rhythm of their boots descending the stairs and biding his time. With a flick of his wrist he sent out a bolt of magic, hoping to disable the guard and merely saunter past him but there was no flicker of gold or hum sedir in the air.

The steps echoed closer.

Loki shuffled on his feet, fading back into the shadows with his stealth and experience alone, waiting for the guard to pass before, slowly, carefully, he pounced.

He held his sword aloft and, with a swift swing of his arm Loki brought the pommel down onto the back of the guard’s head. He crumpled instantly, and Loki lowered him to the ground as quietly as possible, regretting the promises he’d made during the flight.

Loki had promised to play by the Avenger’s rules, no unnecessary casualties, no avoidable deaths, but he’d seen them drop buildings, even whole cities, what was one guard. Especially one who had given his ásynja such terrible, awful pain, swirling nightmares and torturous days.

There was no time for regret, he could feel your magic tugging at his chest.

Loki didn’t look back at the blood soaking into the dirt, only up into the dim grey light of the tower trying not to think about the sigil he wore. The Vanir.

It was another day in the tower, another day waiting for torture and another opportunity for you to irritate your capture. You had begun spending your days recounting your favourite TV shows which had the dual purpose of being entertaining and distracting, making the long day just a little shorter, as well as annoying whoever was placed as guards.

Through the metal bars of the window the weak afternoon light cast a shine on the ridiculous material of your outfit, shiny and satin today.

“And then Nick pulls her back by her sleeve and kisses her. Don’t you think that’s romantic?”

“No,” the man flicked his knife and let it land, point down, in the table again before yanking it back out with a creak of splintered wood.

“Really? Well. It is in the show. But her boyfriend, sort of boyfriend, is still there. So it’s awkward, you know?” You sat back down on the bed, the skirts of your dress parachuting around you.

“No I don’t know,” flick, thunk, creak, repeat, the knife twirled in the air.

This one never manifested the vision of Loki, he used only the knife to intimidate you with.

“Maybe you’ve never had a romantic kiss. A good kiss, is that it?” You taunted, staring at the ceiling and conjuring memories of Loki’s lips on yours, insistent but soft, coaxing them apart until he slid his tongue against yours -

“I’m finished with this conversation now. Shut up.” The knife made its final exit from the table and lay flat on the guard’s lap, his hand curled around the handle.

“Okay what about Jake and Amy, have you seen Brooklyn 99, when he proposes and…”

“I said shut up,” the knife flew across the room, the point embedded into the wood of your headboard, mere centimetres from your cheek.

You took a breath, slow and steady and collected yourself. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t be upset.

“Unnecessary. Arsehole. I’m bored, I’m trying to entertain us.” You snapped, angling your hand up to pull the knife out, hoping to get a good grip before he realised that he’d handed you a weapon.

“How about I just shut you up,” he stood out of the chair and took two long strides across the room.

You flinched, pressing your back further into the headboard, your heart hammering and fear brimming. So far he’d only threatened you with the knife, your torture had been purely psychological. You assumed because whoever was keeping you wanted you alive and well eventually, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Nothing to say now?” He snarled, yanking the knife out, his knuckles brushing your cheek. You flinched again, turning your head away and closing your eyes, expecting a blow.

But it didn’t arrive. Your breathing was loud in the room, your chest heaving.

Then you opened your eyes slowly and met Loki’s stormy gaze as he towered in the small doorway. He put his finger to his lips and winked, the picture of calm and control to anyone else, but you could see the tick of his jaw as he surveyed your room.

“It’s time someone taught you a lesson, Estrid.” The guard growled, “you’re supposed to be behaving, if you and that conniving mother of yours just followed the plan then we wouldn’t have to be here. This is your fault.”

Your mother? What did your mother have to do with this? Surely he was the one keeping you here, no one else. Your mother had wanted to keep you safe, surely she wouldn't have been involved with anyone this cruel?

You didn’t have time to question the man’s words further. Loki strode into the room, instinctively putting his hands, palm out, on either side of his body expecting his short swords to appear. Nothing.

Torn between keeping your eyes on your captor and trying to make a run for Loki, you squirmed on the bed. The guard grabbed at your ankle, yanking roughly until you cried out, and dragged you to the end of the bed where your legs dangled from the tuft of your skirts.

Loki swallowed down his panic again, he’d been relying on his magic to get you both out of the tower easily and safely. But there was something holding it back, stopping him from accessing his weapons, keeping his sedir at bay. His eyes roved the room, searching for whatever poison they were using on you, perhaps he’d touched something when he’d crossed the courtyard, the plants maybe, his mother had been able to do the most incredible things with plants.

But then his eyes lit upon a series of runes etched into the wall. They were faint now, worn down with age, but clear enough. There would be no magic here. That’s why the guards were so confident, that was fine by him, if he couldn't use his magic he'd just have to get his hands dirty instead.

“Get a move on,” Tony crackled in Loki’s earpiece.

The god watched as the kidnapper leant down to whisper in your ear and Loki reached, silently, into his boot and pulled out the dagger he had hidden there, clenching his teeth. He’d regret threatening his Asynja.

Before the man could act any further, Loki’s arm was around his throat, the other around his middle pinning his arms to his sides. The golden dagger between his fingers pressed into the guard's neck, bobbing imperceptibly along with his quickening pulse.

“You’re lucky you’re in front of a lady or I’d paint the walls with your blood for your insolence alone.” His voice was like lava, all the anger of the last week bubbling over, fierce and red hot, stalling anything in its path and holding the guard still with fear. Loki’s gaze moved to yours, slowly, checking for injuries before settling on your face, his eyes softened and those plush pink lips you’d been dreaming about parted. “My darling,” he cooed, “what would you have me do with him?”

The way his tone changed was frightening and you felt your heart race at the sound of it. The Princely command dropped to his more familiar lover's call, to the voice he used just for you, a shiver ran up your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. It should have been horrifying, to see your lover transformed like this, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through you at the sight of his wrath.

You lounged back on the bed, allowing the chiffon and silk to surround you, every bit the Princess contemplating her next command, surveying the men waiting before her, friend and foe.

“Don’t hold back on my account.” You smiled, looking at your guard one last time before allowing your eyes to meet Loki’s, focusing on the blue grey swirl around his pupil while a speck of blood appeared beneath the sharp tip of his dagger.

“Are you sure, my darling?” Loki knew what it was to kill, to watch death. It was a hard thing to come back from, he was already concerned about you being trapped away for weeks, he didn’t dare think of the damage this could do to you wellbeing.

Ignoring the man writhing in Loki’s grasp, you continued to get lost in his eyes, the nightmares and hunger that had consumed you fading away at the sight of him, the bruises on your legs and arms no longer sore, just a passing feeling, as long as he carried on looking at you like that, like he would burn the world and hand you the ashes on a silver plate if you wished it.

“I’m sure.”

You tried to trick yourself into thinking that your smile was because you were free, and not because Loki had kept his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

In the blink of an eye, Loki shifted his dagger to the other hand, sliding it in and out of the guard’s back without a blink. Loki pushed him away, ignoring the heavy thud of his body when it hit the hard floor.

Heat pooled in your belly, your eyes following Loki’s hand while he wiped the blood from his dagger on the guard’s cloak before sheathing it back into his boot.

“Princess,” his voice was low, some might even say nervous, but he never took his eyes from you, afraid to even blink lest someone steal you away again. He dipped slowly, bowing formally and taking your hand.

“My Prince,” you curtseyed, squeezing his hand and a flash of a memory returned to you both, of Asgard, of so many dances, so many formal introductions.

“Your Prince, is it?” Loki allowed the spell of formality to break, his smile wide as he scooped an arm around your waist, moulding your bodies together.

“Always.” you whispered in return. And then you were kissing, his taste so familiar and lips so comforting, you allowed yourself to fall into his embrace, leaving all of the loneliness behind in favour of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“You came for me,” he could feel your smile against his lips and couldn’t help but return it, “I’m so glad.”

“I could hear you calling for me, how could I resist the prayers of my Goddess.”

Your smile grew wider, your hands at the base of his neck flexed, pulling him back for another kiss as your cheeks warmed at the thought, you were his Goddess and he had come for you, despite what they had all said. He had killed for you, just as you knew he would. For as much as you were his Goddess he was your God and would answer all your prayers if you just believed.

The feeling welled inside of you, bright and brilliant, as hot and bubbling as your magic had ever been and you could feel his sedir returning its call, building and building, silver and gold and green and blue filling the room with light until…crack. One of the runed stones above the door cracked, splinters of rock raining down on you both.

“Please, let’s get out of here,” you begged, your lips only as far from his as they needed to be to form words, brushing against his with every syllable. “I miss my magic and I’ve missed you.”

Loki looked up at the broken stone and down at the golden magic curling around his fingers, “it should start coming back to you, now that the spell has been broken.” He pointed at the hairline crack travelling through the stones. “But Stark has also suggested that you may be drugged or poisoned and as much as I think the man is an idiot most of the time, those scans of his have proven very useful. So we should ensure one of his Midgardian doctors looks at you as well as an Asgardian healer.” Loki’s face was full of fury at the mention of you being poisoned, he’d come so close to losing you that the thought of reliving your pain in one of the Avenger’s horrid little hospital rooms was making him sick.

Loki turned you towards the door, supporting you through your many layers of fabric, but you pulled away.

“I can’t go out there like this,” you gestured at your torn dress, your knees below speckled with grit and softened by bruises.

“The depths of my magic haven’t returned yet, my darling, we have to conserve our energy for our escape.”

You bent forward and ripped the bulk of the pillowy petticoats from the bodice before testing your magic. That bubbling sensation hadn’t faded and, sure enough, when you focussed hard, your bare legs became covered by Asgardian leather, tall, boots encased your feet, a navy blue tunic replaced the satin and silk.

Loki marvelled at the silver shimmer of your magic, so strong even when poisoned and held back with ancient spells. He couldn’t help but notice that your clothes were Asgardian, a mirror of his own with a hint of both emerald and the midnight blue that you favoured.

“You, my asynja, are incredible.” He took your hand again, “and when we are safe I promise you all the care you need, whatever your beautiful heart desires.”

You smiled, glad to be free of the restrictive dress and looking forward to requesting another one of Loki’s luxurious baths, perhaps he’d join you this time instead of sitting by the side. You could almost feel the hot water running over your skin, slipping against his own bare chest.

Loki released his cloak from the gold epaulettes at his shoulders and swung it around you, pulling it tight over your chest against the cold.

“Warm enough, my darling?” He smoothed his hands down the buttery leather, willing it to become softer, warmer, lined, anything to stop the imperceptible shivers that you were trying to hide.

“Yes, thank you.” You smiled, but couldn’t help but look at your wrist sadly. It shouldn’t matter that your bracelet was lost, you had Loki and that was all that truly mattered.

Noticing your glance, Loki reached into his breast pocket and pulled the delicate gold chain out, taking your wrist gently in his hands and fastening the bracelet again. The movement made the matching ring on Loki’s finger flash in the pale light and it filled your heart with happiness.

“I didn’t mean to lose it, I was trying to drop my glove or something but -”

Loki cut you off with a quick kiss and, as your eyes met again, you suddenly felt shy. “I think we should definitely leave now,” Loki whispered into your ear and kissed your forehead, “can you walk?”

“I can walk,” you muttered, “I’m just, I’m tired.” You lent your weight into Loki’s side and allowed him to wrap an arm around your waist again.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe”

<< Chapter 9

Chapter 11 >>

A/N:

Loki sees a sigil for the Vanir and I deliberately didn't describe it because I don't think that's really a thing, please chalk it up to artistic licence.

The Vanir: giving their name to the realm Vanaheimr, the Vanir are a pantheon much like the Aesir. They're associated with fertility, wisdom and prophecy.

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