#and watching her be queen was like. completely empty

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties: part 3

As Kate watched Tanya speed off around the corner and out of sight, she strutted confidently towards the school like she had seen Tanya do a hundred times. It wasn’t until she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror that she realized what she was doing and finally dropped her bitchy facade. She had spent so much of the day as Kayleigh it was hard to shake her off entirely.

Retrieving the bag from her hiding spot she took one last look at Kayleigh in the mirror before stripping herself of all the elements that made her. The earrings, the necklace, the makeup, the clothes and finally the hair. The only thing she couldn’t take off were the new nails she had gotten but she made a mental note to at least file them down later.

All things that had previously felt odd and uncomfortable on her now gave her a pang of longing. She couldn't deny how much fun she had had with Tanya that day, having a friend who she was completely in sync with. But then she reminded herself that it wasn't Kate that Tanya was enamoured with, who she had found a kindred spirit in. No that was Kayleigh.

She should be happy to be back to being her normal self. And yet, getting home she threw herself onto her bed and began to feel conflicted and she couldn't understand why. She thought she hated girls like Tanya and before today the thoughts of being her friend was the last thing she wanted but something inside her was now pushing against that feeling, making her question herself.

Sitting up on the bed she looked at herself in her vanity mirror. She was at a crossroads. She could walk into school tomorrow as she had done for years being the same old Kate that others knew and ignored or she could strut in as Kayleigh, have a best friend and be popular and sought after. Looking down at her nails she had gotten with Tanya, the allure of the latter was obvious but she knew that she would be turning her back on the good part of herself and selling her soul to be a bitch. Could she do it?

The next morning Tanya sat into her seat in the back of her first class with her clique sitting around her. She should have felt like the queen she always felt like but for once she was feeling a little sad. She knew it had to do with Kayleigh. She had never clicked so easily and quickly with someone before and now surrounded by her betas she longed for the connection she had made with Kayleigh. Someone who upped her game. Another Alpha.

She looked around the class, considering for a moment the idea that any one of them could potentially be her bitchy bestie but her face quickly turned sour. The one silver lining was that the loser Kate who she loathed was apparently out sick as her seat was empty, although her creepy ex Cory was still here so maybe it wasn't all positive.

Tanya was daydreaming about transferring to Alpha Prep when their teacher called for attention.

"Now before we get started I have two quick announcements. First is that we have a new student starting today, so please give a warm welcome to Kayleigh." The teacher said starting an applause that was continued loudly by a now perked up Tanya.

Kayleigh strode into the class a vision in a tight black pants and even tighter black top outfit that she had bought yesterday with Tanya. Her steely gaze was only broken when she spotted Tanya and excitedly headed over to her.

"Rachel move over to that spare seat this instant! Kayleigh sits next to me from now on." Tanya said snapping at one of her insubordinates as Kayleigh arrived. Tanya stood up and embraced Kayleigh who returned the hug tightly.

"Oh babe I'm so glad you chose here, we are going to have the best senior year of all time." Tanya beamed as Kayleigh took her seat next to her.

"I just couldn't imagine having any fun anywhere else without a queen like you by my side." Kayleigh said.

"And now for the second announcement, I am sad to say that Kate, our highest GPA achiever, and her family have moved and so won't be joining us for her final year." The teacher said sadly before heading to his desk.

"This day just keeps getting better." Tanya said whispering to Kayleigh.

"Why? Who's Kate?" Kayleigh whispered back.

"Oh she was this loser nobody. As far as I'm concerned, this school got a massive upgrade with her gone and you in her place." Tanya said.

"I couldn't agree more." Kayleigh replied with a knowing smile.

As class was let out nearly an hour later, Tanya and Kayleigh were inseparable, walking together out of the classroom arm in arm while the rest of clique struggled to keep up. Kayleigh quickly asserted her dominance over the other girls and they fell in line loyally to their new co-Queen.

By noon the school was abuzz with gossip about the new girl Kayleigh. News quickly spread about her sexual history, her bitchy attitude and her beauty. The bullied lower class of the school had to know fear two mega babes.

“Tanya babes look at what this loser thinks passes for fashion these days, isn’t it tragic.” Kayleigh sneered at one unfortunate girl.

“Couldn’t agree more Kayleigh, her clothes, if you can come them that, are hurting my eyes.” Tanya replied coldly, shielding her eyes.

“You hear that dork, you’re physically hurting my Bestie, get lost before I physically hurt you.” Kayleigh said bearing down on the girl. Kayleigh felt her pussy tingle as she watched the girl flee. As soon as she was gone Kayleigh and Tanya giggled cruelly.

Before the end of the day the two of them could finish each other's sentences. Collectively they were soon known as 'Kayla', a two headed creature who was as formidable as they were beautiful.

However as connected to the hip as they were, Kayleigh excused herself near the end of the day for a moment and snuck into an empty classroom where inside she found Cory waiting.

"Alright loser you better have good news for me or I'll squeeze you puny dick into a cage. Although something tells me you'd only get off on that." Kayleigh snarled at Cory who had a strange mix of fear and arousal etched on his face.

"Y-yes of course. I hacked into the school system and added all of your, I mean, all of Kate's grades to yours. I also added you as a new transfer student and transferred Kate out of the school but you already know that." He said nervously awaiting her response.

"Good. Glad to see you're not entirely useless." She said distainfully as she turned to leave.

"A-aren't y-you going to t-thank me?" He said barely above a whisper but it was enough to stop her in her tracks.

"Excuse me?" She said wheeling around.

"W-well if it wasn't f-for me, you would h-have never p-put on the hair and b-become Kayleigh." He said, each word making him regret the last. In a flash she had her hand on his throat and was squeezing.

"Let's get on thing straight you pathetic worm, there is no magic hair, no transfer of power from Tanya to me or any bullshit like that. I just realised that I didn't want to be some loser nobody anymore, I didn't want to be an outcast freak like you. Kayleigh didn't take over Kate's body, Kate had stolen my body for 18 years. I just took it back, understand?" She said with genuine venom in her voice. Cory looked into her cold blue eyes and couldn't see Kate inside. He nodded feebly.

Dropping him to the floor, she walked slowly to the door still incensed, however she still needed him for one thing.

"Don't forget to hack into my father's workplace and give him that fat raise and promotion, I have a status to uphold." She said not even dignifying Cory with a look anymore but knew he was nodding intently. She couldn't waste anymore time, not when she had a school to run with her Bitchy Bestie.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #self corruption

[readychilledwine]

Drumming Song

Summary - 49 long years without your mate finally comes to an end after Amarantha grants him one night of freedom

Warnings- smut, rough oral (mrecving), shadow play, slight angst, impact play, power play, mention of sex magic, occational capitalized word where there shouldn't be (I think I caught them all)

A/N - Listen... there's potential for this to have a second part under the mountain where reader is Rhysand's whore

“Behave,” Tamlin gripped your chin gently. “Pick wisely and preferably from the guard, y/n.”

Lucien snorted behind you, having been the male you had picked the last four Calanmai. You two figured the magic would lead you to him again. A strong, high born male and heir was the obvious choice for the night.

Tamlin looked at Lucien, “Stay near her.” The red-headed male nodded. Gently reaching for your hand to accompany you to the Fires as Tamlin began the Rite.

“What are the odds dearest daring Feyre stays in her room?” You linked your arm to Lucien, leaning into him and staring up at his beautiful face hidden by that fox mask.

“For her sake, she better,” he sighed heavily. “I'd really prefer not to watch your brother and my closest friend fuck my mate.” The stark reminder had your toes curling, thinking of your own mate trapped under that damned Mountain. “Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Lucien looked to the sky, whispering a soft prayer to the Cauldron. “I'll be back.” He motioned with his head towards where Feyre stood with a male.

You shook your head, laughing as Lucien went to her, and the male walked away as he approached. You continued your pathway to the forest, enjoying the feeling of grass on your bare feet.

An almost feline like presence had you pausing as a familiar feeling began to set into your stomach. Calloused hands ran up your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they then moved your hair to the side, “Hello, y/n Darling,” the purr had shivers running your spine as a combination of shocked chill and the heat of the magic began to truly set in.

His scent hit you then causing that faint drumming sound to increase rapidly. Citrus and sea salt mixed with what you knew was the lingering scent of Amarantha.

“What are you doing here, Rhysand?”

You felt him smile into your neck, “Rhysand? Darling, I thought we were way past that?”

It took every fiber in your being, every single ounce of strength you had, but you managed to pull away from him, walking away as you shook him off despite the rhythmic pounding indicating you had Found your partner for the night.

With every footstep away, he took two near, and the drumming grew louder. “If you need to know, I was allowed off my leash tonight to check in.”

You scoffed slightly, picking up pace to head toward your greenhouse, your safe haven. “You mean to drag whomever the poor female Tamlin picks for the night to the false queen to be tortured and murdered?” It was no secret that once every 5 years Amarantha had sent one of the crueler high lord or an Autor to Spring for the poor maiden picked from Calanmai.

Rhys was smirking behind you, knowing you were engaging in a game of chase with him, smiling to himself and knowing he would win. “I do have that unfortunate privilege, yes.” He paused, allowing you to get several paces ahead of him.

Thick silence fell between you two. The air was heavy with magic, with arousal, with the sound of moans and cries while fire cracked distantly in the background.

You had to get away from him before you gave in, caving to every sick whim and desire he had. You took one deep breath, memorizing His scent one more time, and then ran.

Rhys laughed distantly in the background, giving chase to you and easily following every calculated twist and turn.

He caught you exactly where he knew he would, shutting the door to the completely glass greenhouse behind him and locking it.

You felt him grab your wrist, spinning you and walking you to one of the empty walls. His forehead found yours. Those star flecked eyes almost blown out with lust but still somehow sparkling.

The cold glass of the greenhouse met your back as Rhysand held your wrists above your head. "Why are you running from me, little spider lily? As much as I enjoy a game of cat and mouse, we both know my time here is limited."

The heat from Calanmai's magic had begun to spread over your skin, causing the need to be breed, to find some relief to surface. "Tamlin will kill you if he finds you here."

Rhys smirked, his face getting closer to yours, "Your brother was a little preoccupied with a pretty little dark-haired thing in the cave," Soft lips trailed your neck. "And now there's no one else here to save you from me."

He had leaned in so close each syllable was a soft brush of his lips on yours. “Amarantha-” you started softly.

“Will think I fucked you to irritate Tamlin. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Your eyes fluttered shut, relaxing as cool tendrils of darkness began to explore the high slits of your skirt.

Rhys began placing soft kisses along your jawline, hands moving down from your wrists to memorize each inch of skin. One hand stopped on your neck, holding there and squeezing gently. “You should be allowed to wear clothing like this more often. Makes you look like an actual female. Not some cupcake Tamlin had hand decorated.”

You blinked at the lack of clothing you were in. A dress that dipped low in the front with a non-existent back, two large slits that ran both legs up to your hipbones. The fabric was so light that a soft breeze would expose you easily.

“I enjoy my cupcake skirts sometimes. Easy to hide things in,” your mind immediately went to before the Bond between you two snapping, when Lucien had first come to Spring and used sex As a coping mechanism. He and Tamlin had an argument, and he had hidden the table and then under your many layered skirts and ate you out with Tamlin sitting right there.

Rhysand's eyes grew dark, his hand squeezing your throat harder. “You will never think of another male between those pretty thighs once I'm done with you.”

Rhysand brought your lips to him harshly this time. The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue, leaving you breathless as he began ripping that now offensive dress off.

Without warning, Rhysand turned you, locking your hands behind your back with one hand and forcing your breasts and cheek against the cold glass.

You jumped, gasping loudly as a smack came against your ass. Then another and another leaving you wiggling and moaning. Rhys landed another hard smack, massaging the tender sore skin once he was done and just watched you drip.

You were soaked, and he only made it worse as he ripped your hair back, forcing your back to arch more. “Try to remember I love you, and this, instead of whatever happens when you are dragged under than damn mountain,” it was a soft plea followed by a kiss placed on your temple.

“Always,” you whispered.

“Get on your knees for me,” you could hear him untying his pants, the desperation in his tone. You turned, following his order and trailing your hands down his thighs.

Rhys was quick to collect your wrists, slamming them on the wall behind you and above your head. The position left you completely defenseless as his free hand positioned his cock in front of your lips. “Open.” An easy order to follow again, your eyes meeting his as he pushed in. You hummed at the weight of him on your tongue, the saltiness of his skin. You tried to bob your head, only to be forced to stay in place.

Rhysand just smirked before pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

And now it was clear. He had no intentions of allowing you an ounce of control.

This was his therapy.

His needed release from the horrors he was suffering silently to earn her favor. To keep his court safe. To keep you safe.

Rhys was gentle at first, allowing you to keep up and breathe, tongue running the length of the vein and swirling the head when the opportunity came. That gentleness went out the window once Rhys saw an attor lurking the grounds, and he growled. “I love you,” he whispered one last time. You nodded, swallowing around him, and did the best you could to relax.

He began fucking your throat like you were no more than a doll to him, a lifeless object He could use and abuse. He smiled and moaned with each gag, cock feeling heavier on your tongue and twitching as more spit began to gather at the corners of your mouth. Mascara had begun to run down your face with your tears from the burn and lack of oxygen. "What a pretty mess," he moaned out.

Rhys threw his head back, groaning your name like a prayer as he continued using and abusing you.

You felt something cold running around your thighs and then something running the length of your core. You knew if you stood, there would be a damp spot on the floor. You were twitching and clenching around nothing, eyes locked on the absolute bliss etched into Rhysand's face each time you hallowed your cheeks or swallowed.

You moaned around him as one of those tendrils gently began to play with your clit, offering some relief as he held you with his cock all the way inside of your throat.

“Keep fucking looking at me,” his hand moved from your hair to your throat. Feeling his cock settled in there, feeling you swallowing and attempting to breath around him. “My perfect good girl,” he was breathless himself, pulling back out before going back to his ruthless onslaught of thrusts mixed with prolonged deep throating.

Between his pleasure steady humming down the bond, the snake like darkness dancing around your entrance and clit, and the visual display of Rhysand with his brows knit in pleasure and mouth opened softly, you felt that coil tightening inside of you more and more. “Almost fucking there, y/n,” he panted, your name rolling off his tongue like a deep purr. “Fuck!”

He came from you, whining as that coil began to teeter on a knife edge. Rhys spilled down your throat, “Don't fucking swallow yet. Don't you fucking dare.” He pulled out slightly, working his length with just the tip in your mouth to ensure every drop of him sat waiting.

He pulled out, breathing heavily, “Open your mouth.” Your obedience had his cock twitching, his mind wishing he had time to truly take you, to taste you. He smiled at the sight of his seed lingering in your mouth before leaning down and spitting on your tongue. He forced your jaw shut, kneeling down before you, a hand taking place between your thighs and two fingers entering you.

“Swallow,” he commanded as he began fucking you with his fingers. Scissoring them pressing them, pushing deeper and deeper until he found the spot that had your head thrown back, whining out his name as electricity and warmth shot through your body.

You heard him growl as a thumb found your bundle of nerves, moving in time with his thumb. Your hips began to unknowingly move, riding those two fingers inside of you and chasing your pleasure. “Rhys! Fuck! Please.” You began to beg, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a mantra one would wake themselves to in the morning.

You couldn't respond, mouth set in a small o, whimpers and moans becoming all you knew as he played your body like his own personal harp. “Cum,” you screamed then, flowers in the greenhouse going from small buds to full blooms as you reached and fell over your peak.

You felt him leaning into your ear. “When I buy you under the mountain, I'm going to fuck you infront of every single fae there. Marking you as mine over and over.” He pulled his fingers out, landing a quick slap to your sensitive pussy before pushing his fingers back in. “You won't even remember your name when I'm done with you down there.”

He worked your core through it, praising you with soft kisses as he kept an eye on Amarantha's creature that had caught his scent. He pulled his fingers from you, holding them to your mouth and watching from his lashes as you eagerly cleaned them.

He released your wrists, pulling his fingers from your mouth, and held eye contact with you. “I have to go,” his voice broke as he said the 4 words you'd been dreading. “I love you. I know I've told you several times tonight, but I love you y/n Darling.”

You nodded, trying to blink the tears away, “I love you too.”

He nodded, kissing you deeply before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours. “I'll see you soon.”

It was a statement that filled you both with dread and a sick sense of joy. Dread for being trapped there, one more tool to use for Tamlin's torment. Joy at the idea of being with Rhys.

He sighed, leaving the greenhouse as you noticed the creature approaching and leaving with it after motioned towards the cave you knew Tamlin's maiden would likely be resting in.

You felt one last tug on the bond. One small ounce of sorrow of longing.

Then it fell silent and cold.

Just like it had been for 49 long years.

💜 General taglist 💜 - Remember to shoot me a message or comment if you would like to be on my general taglist or a tag list for a specific character

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhysand x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x tamlin sister!reader

[droopycoquette]

WAG Life || Lucy Bronze x Reader

Summary: Lucy’s obsessed with the idea of you being her WAG

Warnings: established relationship, smut, strap-on, lucy having a domestic kink

Word Count: 2.6k

|*|

The plane rocked back and forth due to turbulence as Lucy scrolled through her Instagram feed and her heart stopped when she saw her girlfriend. Instantly liking it, she thumbed through the photos of the recent post. It was mainly pictures of you at the women’s World Cup but she felt herself pause when she saw one; a photo of you cooking. She could feel herself heating up but it all came to a point when she read your caption: 

Living my best WAG life.

She had always liked the idea of you being her little wife in the stands cheering her on and not having to work for anything. Only taking care of her, never wanting for anything, and relying solely on her. It was enough to make Lucy combust. You had no idea what you were doing to her, playing right into her fantasy without even realizing it.

"Fuck," she mumbled to herself.

As she scrolled through your posts, she noticed that you had posted a lot more homemaking content. Pictures of you cooking, cleaning, or rearranging things. If she didn't know better, she would think you were doing these things on purpose.

"Lucy, we're touching down soon," Millie called.

"Okay," Lucy mutters, not taking her eyes off her phone, off of you.

Lucy's need to see you doubled. She couldn't wait to get to your shared apartment and just be with you. You were all she could think about when the plane touched down. You were all she could think about when she was driving to the apartment. And you were all she could think about as she walked up the stairs.

Her insides tingled as she approached the door, unlocking it quietly and entering the space. She could hear footsteps on the hardwood floors before she could see the person they belonged to.

"Lucy!"

"Darling!"

You flew into her arms without a second thought, forcing her to drop her luggage to be able to catch you. Lucy automatically brought her hands under your butt to support you, groaning when she realized you weren't wearing pants

"You're home," you sighed into her neck.

"Damn right, I am."

"I missed you," you mumbled into her skin.

"I missed you," Lucy grinned, making her way over to the kitchen counter. "You know what else I missed?"

She could feel you shake your head.

"Your kisses."

You brought your face out of her neck finally and looked at her.

"I missed kissing you," you confessed, bringing your lips closer to hers.

Lucy couldn't take it anymore, softly placing her lips onto yours. The kiss was sweet and gentle as if you both were afraid to break the other. Lucy softly set you on the counter, the cold marble against your bare skin causing you to shiver.

As the footballer breaks the kiss, she looks around the apartment.

The last time Lucy had been in the apartment, you both had just bought it. It was empty save for a TV, a sofa, and a queen bed in the shared room. Now, it looked completely different. It looked like a home.

"You've been working," Lucy gawks.

"Do you like it," you ask shyly. "I wanted you to come home to something nice. You've worked so har-

She cut you off as she connected your lips once more, not being able to be away from you for long. Lucy could feel her insides melting at your words. This is everything she ever wanted.

"Everything is perfect," Lucy whispered in between kisses, rubbing your bare thighs. "It's beautiful."

Lucy watched as you beamed at the praise, a smile gracing your features.

"I was about to get started on dinner," you began. "Is there anything specific you want?"

Lucy almost moans at your question, "No, anything you make will be good."

You nod, giving her one more peck before getting to work and shooing her off to put her luggage away.

When Lucy returns, she can't keep her eyes off of you. The raven-haired woman was forced to watch as you hummed and twirled around the kitchen, cooking for her. You were cooking for her. It was enough to drive her mad.

"Luce, do you want to help me," you ask with a smile.

"No. I enjoy watching you," Lucy says simply.

"Okay."

As she watched you it dawned on her, you were wearing her old kit, the number 2 and the name "Bronze" showing proudly on the back. You really did have no idea what you were doing. Completely out of touch with how much you were turning your girlfriend on. Lucy could feel herself growing wetter and wetter by the minute.

"I think I'm going to go take a shower, love."

"Okay, I think everything should be in the shower caddy on the side. And the towels are in the cupboard under the sink," you explain, turning around and wiping your hands on a towel.

Everything you were doing was doing something to Lucy and it kind of annoyed her. She needed you so bad.

"O-okay," she stuttered walking off to the bathroom.

As she undressed, Lucy couldn't help but continue to think about you. Your words, your actions, your touch, all of it made her want you more and more. She turned the water on and stepped under the warm spray, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh. It felt amazing to be home and with you again.

She can't help but replay the scene in her head. You were cooking for her, taking care of her. She couldn't believe how lucky she was to have you in her life. The steam filled up the bathroom as she lathered her body with soap. After a little bit, she hops out and quickly dresses in a sports bra and sweatpants.

She rounds the corner with her hands in her pockets and is greeted with a set table and you doing the dishes. She leans against the wall and watches you for a bit, nipping at her bottom lip and adjusting her glasses as she thinks. You hadn't noticed her yet, your attention focused on cleaning. So focused that you didn't notice her coming up behind you until you felt her hand around your waist and the other around your throat.

"Hello," you smile, the hand around your neck forcing you into an arch to face her.

"Hello," she smirked back, pecking your lips. "I was hoping you would join me in the shower."

"I'm sorry," you frown. "How about we take one tomorrow morning."

If you can walk, Lucy thought to herself.

"I love you being like this," Lucy sighs, releasing your neck and allowing you to turn and face her.

"Like what," you asked confused, loving the feeling of her arms around your waist.

"Like my little housewife," she sighs. "I love that you don't have to work and that you can just be home, taking care of me."

"I love doing it," you reply, wrapping your arms loosely around her neck.

After a beat of silence, you ask, "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Lucy whispers.

Her eyes stayed on yours as your breath hitched. You raised yourself up on your toes to shyly peck her lips, your hands loosely playing with strands of her hair Her hands trail from your waist to her shoulder blades.

"Jump."

You obey and wrap your legs around her waist, your lips automatically finding hers in a rough heated kiss. She devoured you, her tongue intermingling with yours as she did. She carried you to your shared bedroom, setting you down against the wall.

"What are you doing to me," Lucy asked, her accent thick.

You stared at her with doe eyes, confusion clouding them.

"Fuck, you've ruined me. I can't describe it. But, you've ruined me for anyone else."

You groan as she kisses your neck, her body pressed against yours firmly. Your moans only fueled her as she descended down to your core. Glancing up at you, she smirks as your brain begins to fizzle out, she can see it.

"What's got you so worked up, love," Lucy asks, her nose rubbing against your clothed slit. "Tell me."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back pressing against the wall.

"I won't do anything until you tell me."

You gasp as her thumbs press against your hip bones, her hands holding the small of your back.

"Fuck," you whimpered. "I love being your housewife. It makes me feel really good."

Lucy moans into your thighs at your confession, her own thighs pressing together. Still kneeling, she raises herself up to kiss your stomach. Placing little pecks on your skin causing you to buck forward.

"Yeah? What else?"

"And, I love," you gasp as Lucy's tongue drags against your clothed core. "I love how you take care of me and how I don't have to think when you're around."

Lucy watched as you began to grind yourself onto her tongue, your hips shaking as your clit caught on the ridge of her wet muscle. She couldn't move as she watched in pure shock and awe. How were you so perfect? It was as if you were reading her mind.

Lucy's fingers hooked on your underwear as her eyes found yours. A smirk found its way onto her lips as your eyes quickly looked somewhere else, unable to handle the intensity. Cute.

Lucy slowly pulled your underwear down your legs, flinging them somewhere over her shoulder. You began to take your shirt off.

"No, love. Keep it on. Please keep it on," Lucy begged.

Your hands dropped the hem of the kit immediately.

"Love seeing you in this, baby," Lucy breathed, lifting one of your legs onto her shoulder. "Can't wait to fucking make you a Bronze."

You shuddered against her as her nose rubbed against your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. Your hands moved to her hair, gripping it, keeping your girlfriend in place as her tongue lapped at your clit. You couldn't stop the sounds coming from your mouth, your head falling back against the wall.

You whimpered as your hips bucked up into her face. Lucy cooed at your embarrassment, smirking as you brought your hands up to your face.

You were the cutest little thing ever, your mouth open as you threw your head back against the wall. Lucy's fingers finally entered you, stroking your walls in a way that had your juices running down her arm.

"Look at that," Lucy groaned, lips still coated in you. "Did you need me that bad?"

"Please," you whimpered, hips bucking into her face.

"Please what," Lucy panted. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you baby. But you have to tell me."

"Hm? I can't hear you, love. You're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me, please," you gasped, as Lucy tapped on your clit.

Her muscles bulged as she stood, now towering over you.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

She lifted you up, wrapping your legs around her waist before connecting your lips. She was sure you felt it, the bulge in her sweats. Just to be sure, she began to grind her hips into you, loving the way you moaned into the kiss.

You knew Lucy loved wearing her strap around the apartment so you don't know why it shocked you. You had missed this feeling. Her tongue entered your mouth, wrapping around yours and deepening the kiss. You didn't know whose breath was who's.

You whimpered as she sat you down on the edge of the bed.

"Get on all fours for me," she commanded her accent coming out even more. "Don't fucking make me wait."

You're breath hitches at her roughness, immediately complying. Slowly moving to your knees in the the center of the bed. Your chest rose and fell rapidly from the anticipation as you felt the bed dip from Lucy's weight.

Lucy couldn't stop the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of your eager submission to her. The way you slightly wiggled your hips in need, you didn't even realize you were doing it.

The older woman stroked the black silicone toy, groaning as if she could feel it. Tapping it on your entrance, she watched as a string of your juices connected the toy and your core.

"You don't even know how fucking hot you are, love."

You both groaned as Lucy pushed into you slowly, your back arching.

She began to pump into you, her hips grinding into you at a pace that was slow, yet deep. She loved watching your head hang and your hips push back against her in ecstasy at her slow but hard thrusts.

The defender leaned down to kiss your nape, her skin burning yours. She could hear your sharp and breathy whimpers and it drove her to pound into you.

She had missed this dearly. Your sounds and need for her. She missed her ability to touch you whenever she wanted, claiming you as hers.

"I don't know how I went this long without you," she groaned into your ear, her fingers reaching down to your clit.

You bucked up against her at the sensation, your stomach beginning to tighten. Lucy watched you with fervor, gazing as you took what she gave you. You were perfect, just for her.

Her fingers continued to rub against you and her hips rocked slowly.

"Please cum," she begged. "I want it so bad."

Your back arched as her fingers got rougher.

"Fuck," you groaned, throwing your head back.

Lucy's thrusts began to quicken, becoming harsher. She needed your pleasure and wanted to see you come undone. Lucy had always put your pleasure above anything else and right now was no different.

"Give it to me, my love."

Her begging continued to spur you on, your gut reaching its boiling point. You came harshly, Lucy's hips milking your bliss and lengthening your orgasm.

Her movements didn't stop. Instead, she flipped you over, your body slamming into the bed. She clasped her hands with yours and brought them over your head.

"I'll never get over watching you cum," she moaned, her clit catching on the strap.

Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you down to meet her thrusts. Her fingertips dug into the fat of your hips, loving the flesh between them.

You watched her arms flex as she held you down, her triceps on display. Sweat rolled down her quivering abdomen as she continued to pleasure you.

"Please," you groaned out, your body still spasming.

"Please what, sweetheart," Lucy smiled, her hips continuing to slam into you, leaving a burning sensation on the back of your thighs. "Tell me what you want. Do you want me here?"

She held both your wrists with one hand and allowed her fingers to return to your clit, tapping gently against the small nub. You gasped out at the overstimulation.

"You always were so needy," she grinned. "And I've always loved it."

"Lucy, please," you babbled, your body writhing beneath her. "A break, please."

She pouted mockingly and continued to thrust in and out of you.

"You want to be my little WAG in the stand, right? My little trophy wife?"

You nod, your cheeks heating, "Yes."

"Well, then you have to keep me happy. And what would make me really happy, baby, is for you to keep taking this cock."

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #barca femeni x reader #lucy bronze smut #woso #woso imagines #woso x reader

[ystrike1]

Doku wo Kurawaba Sara Made - By Tobari Sawa (8/10)

Our protagonist is a father who will do whatever it takes to save his daughter, and himself, from complete ruin. He's trapped inside an Otome Game, so fate will never favor him. As the father of the Villainess he has nothing, so he throws away his pride and he uses seduction. It works too well.

The Kingdom of Parsemis is magically blessed. There is a barbaric tradition.

A holy maiden MUST be sacrificed to the nations patron Dragon every ten years.

It's a political thing.

Andrim realizes he is s fool when he watches his only daughter lose. He treated her like a pawn. A convenient daughter from a dead woman.

He realizes she never had a chance.

He never had a chance.

He's not even the main villain.

He, and his daughter, are both prolouge villains.

The ultimate insult.

The Villainess will be executed!!! Is such a trite ending. Here it's more horrible.

In this scenario Natasha, the protagonist, was destined to be eaten by the dragon.

Julietta, the Villainess, was supposed to wed the prince.

The Prince uses his authority to remove Julietta from power and get rid of her in one fell swoop.

Why is this possible?

Natasha is the destined holy maiden, but Julietta is from a special sage bloodline...so conveniently she can be sacrificed as well.

A loving father would have kept Julietta far away from the Prince.

Natasha, of course, realized she could seduce the Prince and save herself.

Andrim was a total fool.

If he had just protected his daughter a little bit both of them would have survived.

Andrim remains calm. He thinks about what he can do. His daughter is doomed and the Prince clearly wants him gone too.

He tries to use his memories of the game to escape his fate, with his daughter.

He accepts the new engagement, and his daughters new position as sacrifice....gladly.

Yes, he is a dutiful Prime Minister.

He understands that a special girl must be sacrificed for prosperity. He carries her away and he says he will prepare her for that fateful day.

In the original plot he raved like a madman and demanded Natasha's death instead. Even though the Prince had declared otherwise.

He backs away, because he cannot win without power.

He joins hands with a corrupt priest and the ACTUAL DRAGON!

He promises to entertain Karis, the Dragon, because only he knows the special lore.

The Dragon is bored.

Andrim is able to tempt the Dragon with a new kind of entertainment. It's bored of eating women.

Andrim must commit evil to live.

He goes waaaayyyy too far.

The Dragon is not the love interest.

It's Jorga the Commander. The adult figure supporting the youthful otome group.

Andrim uses him completely. Not sure how yet but Jorga commits absolute atrocities for Andrim. He betrays the royal family for Andrim, and the palace is filled with torture.

Jorga is the most useful card on the field, and Andrim uses his beauty to "get" him.

Is it genuine love? No, but Jorga is all about loving acts of service.

The plan rolls into an avalanche slowly.

Andrim gives up his position as Prime Minister. This earns him plenty of sympathy points. He also appoints a young genius on purpose. The boy is not fit to run the government. He uses politics to force the boy into a position he can't handle.

This makes him even more pitiful.

The capable Prime Minister had to abdicate for his daughter, and his replacement is trash...

How awful...

His poor daughter. In the end its not her fault that the Prince's eyes wandered...

Natasha is a cruel moron and that helps. Her otome team constantly has to cover her ass.

She's going to be a terrible Queen.

Julietta would have been perfect.

Andrim plans to take advantage of that.

Julietta is sweet but empty.

Andrim vows to make her happier.....after his dirty deeds bear fruit.

Julietta stays in the palace...with Andrim. He uses an old tradition to stay, where he can garner the most sympathy.

Apparently, the story turns into extremely sadistic revenge porn. If you like obsessive dogs with no morals this is your lucky day!

Andrim is not a merciful man. Even with his Japanese memories his ruthless side always prevails.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Tobari sawa #Doku wo Kurawaba Sara Made #otome isekai #yaoi #otome

[literaryuppsala]

Hello ❤ got a request. Can you please write about reader that used to be married to rollo and one day he just fucks off without telling the reader. Years later he got informed that the reader had gotten pregnant and that it was his child. Rollo wants to go back to be with his "family" but to do that he has to go through a trail of sorts. He agrees to it without knowing what it is. The trail being, him chained to the bed and having to watch as the reader gets fucked by everybody of the ragnarson family. He is close enough where he can hear and see everything but he is not allowed to touch the reader. And at the end he found out that the reader has gotten remarried to ubbe/bjorn/maybe even ragnar??? And that his child doesn't even know him and he gets kicked out 🤤😌

You can choose to do either just the men of the family including ragnar cause I want to see rollo suffer or you can choose to have the mothers/ wives with them.if you want to, have the reader blind folded so she has to guess who it is ❤

Basically make rollos life hell 😂

What a ride... I guess I never wrote something like that, I am THRIVING, it's filthy, it's messy, has a lot of fluids, and dude it took me forever to finish, like always... Anyways, I hope you like it AND YOU WATCHED THE PROCESS SO BE NICE TO ME! Thank you for your ask babe, have fun you pervert.

Warnings: ALL OF THE WARNINGS POSSIBLE, it's complete filth, pure smut, but with a little plot, not a lot, just a little to give context.

Minors, stay the hell away from this one, I'm not joking.

Sweet like justice, karma is a queen.

You were very young when you first met Ragnar and his brother Rollo. Your eyes crossed paths with them on one of their first meetings with your father, Horik. They were handsome, strong warriors, such a sight when you first saw them, caught your attention very quickly. The meetings ended up with an alliance, Horik and Ragnar decided to raid together in England, returning to Norway filled with treasures and a promise of land. 

A feast was prepared to celebrate, the treasures were shared between everyone but Rollo wanted something else, he wanted more. You didn’t mind at first when his eyes caught yours in the middle of the night, didn’t mind when he approached you and offered a cup of ale, you talked until everyone else was already passed out around you and you ended up in his bed that night. 

You really thought he loved you, he proposed to your father who gladly accepted and you married him just a few months later that night. He moved you to Kattegat, bought you a house and introduced you to his family until It became yours. But things changed, he changed. One day you heard about a woman he had in his life, someone he loved but died years before, and you thought that was the reason, that he couldn’t love you completely because part of his heart died with her and you learned to live like that. 

But Rollo was a different man, to be married to him wasn’t easy, he was demanding, ambitious, always thought he should be doing greater things, that he should be bigger. After years of marriage he became very distant and despite having his way with you every night, you were never able to conceive, you thought to yourself that something was wrong with you, that the gods made you that way and that was another reason for your husband to treat you like that. 

“I went to see the healer.” You told him one night. “She gave me a few herbs that can help.”  

“The gods cursed me.” He mumbled. “An empty woman who can not give me any child.” 

Ragnar was the one to always cheer you up, saying that you weren’t the problem, but his brother. He wouldn’t make a good father, he’d say, the gods won’t give him a child to raise. You never told Rollo about these conversations, he hated his brother and the fact that after Horik’s death, he became the king, something he thought belonged to himself. 

 “Your brother was looking for you.” You warned him as you put his plate in front of him at the table. 

“He came here?” He asked without looking at you. 

“Yes, he said It was important.” You continued. “I think it is about going back to Frankia.” You sat in front of him. “You should take me this time.” 

“No.” He answered simply. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s dangerous, and you have no business in Frankia.” 

“I’m a shieldmaiden Rollo, I wasn't made to sit back at home and take care of your children.” 

“What children? You haven’t given me any.”

They left to Frankia the next morning, Rollo left without saying a single word to you and something in your heart broke that day. Months later they came back, you were at the pier waiting, your baby bump showing and a big smile on your face, a few days after their departure you found out you were with child, and you couldn’t wait to tell Rollo about It. But as the ship docked, your smile died on your face. 

“Where is he?” You asked when Ragnar stood in front of you, his hand immediately touching your belly. He didn’t answer, but you knew, he stayed there. 

Later you learned Ragnar was betrayed by Rollo and defeated by Frankia’s army and the last news he had before leaving was about his marriage with a princess. Rollo had abandoned you without a second thought. 

Years later, you grew accustomed to a new life, your son was already five years old and growing stronger each day. Ragnar took care of you, accepting you in his house, he protected you and your child, who he named after one of his good friends, Leif, and he loved your boy, after his own boys grew into strong men, to have yours running around gave him life and so did you. 

You weren’t blind to Ragnar’s affection towards you, after Aslaug’s death he didn’t have anyone in his life except for you and despite being a sight for sore eyes, you weren’t interested on the men in Kattegat, but both of you never tried anything, maybe you felt wrong about that even though Rollo was gone for so long. However, he wasn’t the only one, Bjorn and Ubbe, Hvitserk and Ivar, and even Sigurd, all had soft spots for you, but you brushed it off and ignored it as something simple as a crush. 

One night, without a warning, a ship docked at the pier. People let Ragnar know about it, and he went there with both Bjorn and Ubbe, just to find a ship from Frankia, from where Rollo jumped. He frowned, confused by his brother’s presence, Rollo looked into his eyes and swallowed hard.

With a grunt Ragnar turned around, silently nodding for his sons to grab Rollo by his arms and drag him to the great hall. As soon as they got there, Ragnar took his place in his throne and Rollo was thrown on his knees, at his feet. You heard the noise from your bedroom in the back and walked towards It, standing in shock when you finally saw the man. Rollo seemed old, his once dark brown hair was filled with gray strands, so was his beard, he widened his eyes as soon as they met yours. 

“Mama!” You heard Leif’s voice and heard his footsteps running towards you, looking for you. He hugged your legs as soon as he found you. You grabbed him in your arms, Rollo’s eyes focused on the boy and a tiny smile showed up on his face, but that was quickly wiped by a punch, thrown by Bjorn. 

“Don’t look at him.” He grunted angrily. 

It didn’t take long for Ivar and Hvitserk to join you in the great hall, none of them seemed happy to see the man in front of them, neither were you. 

“What are you doing here?” Ragnar rasped.

“I want to come back…” He mumbled. 

“Seems funny… After all these years…” 

“I have every right to be here, to be with my family.”

“The family you abandoned…” 

“I’m here now.” 

“You say this like you’re some sort of treasure we should be proud to gain. Tell me, Rollo, what happened in Frankia to make you want to come back?” 

“I heard about my son, I want to know him.”

You hugged your son, like you could protect him from Rollo’s prying eyes.

“He’s not yours.” You growled. “He’s mine, only mine. Didn’t your princess give you any sons?” 

“Brother…” Rollo looked at Ragnar. 

“Don’t talk to him, talk to me, I’m the wife you abandoned!” You insisted but lowered his head again. “This is unbelievable…”

“I want to prove myself.” He answered. “To you…” He looked at Ragnar then moved to you. “And to you.” He sighed. “To the gods… I deserve that!”

It took a few minutes of silence between all of you, Rollo looking around searching for any sign of kindness, but you weren’t one to pity that man, not after everything he put you through. 

“Take Leif to the back.” Ragnar told you. “And come back here.” 

You didn’t understand at first, but nodded and took your son to your bedroom, asking one of the servants to stay there with him. 

“Don’t leave until I come back.” You told her under your breath, locking her inside. 

When you came back you found Rollo tied up to a chair in the middle of the great hall, Ragnar was standing in front of him while his sons waited behind him. He looked over his shoulders and offered his hand to you, you frowned but took it, walking until you were standing by his side. 

Ragnar grabbed you by your waist, startling you who quickly wrapped your arms around his neck for support when he took you in his arms, bride style, taking you to the nearest table, he sat you there, taking his place between your legs. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked under his breath, only for you to hear. 

“I do.” You whispered shyly and he smiled.

Ragnar took a cloth from his pocket and covered your eyes, your breath caught on your throat and you sighed heavily. You felt his hand feather touching your face before moving away from your body and you immediately felt the absence of his warmth. The next thing you felt was a pair of hands on your thighs and a warm breath against your cheeks, before you noticed, someone kissed you. 

The kiss was feverish, filled with a hunger you never experienced before, you’ve never been kissed like that. Teeth and tongue, saliva gathering on the corners of your mouth, a pair of hands meeting the base of your spine pulling you closer to the edge of the table, his thighs between yours keeping your legs open. He stopped the kiss to murmur against your lips.

“Waited so long to do this.”

You recognized Ragnar’s voice before he kissed you again, your mind spinning when your hands met his hips, unconsciously pulling him into you. His hands roamed down your shoulders taking down the sleeves of your dress. You felt a little self conscious and your body tensed, Ragnar distracted you by taking his kisses down your neck and collarbones, making you shiver. A “what’s this…” growled by Rollo sounded in the back of your mind and something twisted inside you, you felt excited.

Ragnar kept kissing down your chest, taking down your dress until your breasts were exposed, your breath hitched and your nipples hardened on the cold of the great hall. His mouth latched at your nipple, sucking on the little nub, your hands met the back of his head and you pressed his face against your chest, wanting more of that sensation. He did the same to the other nipple, using his hand to knead at the free breast.

Between your legs, Ragnar found the skirts of your dress, raising everything up your waist “Open your legs for me.” He asked against your lips and you obeyed, suddenly he moved away from you and stood by your side, your pussy now in full display for Rollo’s widened eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Rollo asked with gritted teeth. 

“What do you think?” Ragnar asked back, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and making you whine. “I’m gonna fuck your wife.” 

With that being said, Ragnar kneeled in front of you, hands rubbing on your calves before putting them on his shoulders. His lips brushed against the side of your inner thighs, his beard scratching the soft skin as he peppered kisses all around until he shoved his face into your bare pussy, licking from your hole to your clit. Your back arched and you gasped, putting your arms behind your back, on the table, for some support, throwing your head back. 

Ragnar was something else while he was eating you out, with a little crowd watching, he wanted to  give them a show. With his face buried into your cunt, he was nosing onto your clit while teasing your hole with the tip of his tongue, then he worked through your folds, long and slow licks like he was savoring you, drinking from you. You suppressed a moan, still self conscious of the others presence surrounding you, earning yourself a low grunt that sent vibrations through your core and a harsh slap on your thighs.

Rollo’s eyes were glued to your body, he was growling under his breath, trying to get rid of the straps binding him to that chair. Ragnar moaned right into your pussy, he moved his tongue quickly and you started to grind your hips on his face, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. His beard was scratching against the soft skin of your pussy, you could feel it rubbing against you painfully while he started sucking on your clit.

Your moans became louder, your hips moved on its own accord, your body was working on automatic, the knot on lower belly forming and tightening. Suddenly, two of his fingers were knuckles deep into your warmth, thrusting up inside you and you gasped: ‘Ragnar’ knowing damn well Rollo was listening to you. Ragnar could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, so he increased his pace, dragging more mewls from your mouth until the knot finally snapped and you groaned loudly. 

Ragnar stood up, turning on his side to stare at a nervous Rollo, his face glistening with your slick, he sucked his fingers clean off your juices and cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. Moving away from between your legs, he held your chin, your fucked out face on full display for his brother’s sight. 

“Open your legs.” He ordered again, and you obeyed, showing off your puffy cunt. “Did you miss this, brother? Did your princess have a better one?”  

Once again he was between your legs, shimming out of his slacks and pulling his cock out. His hands quickly held the back of your thighs and pulled you further to the edge of the table, his tip featherly touching your hole making you whine. 

“See, Rollo…” He grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing it against your pussy and coating himself in your juices. “I don’t think you could ever have anything better.” He pushed himself in and both of you moaned in unison, fresh slick leaking out of you to coat his length. 

Ragnar threw his head back, closing his eyes as he felt your warm walls engulfing him, sinking into you slowly until he’s fully sheathed. He pulled back completely just to slam inside you again, he did that slowly a few times, like he was savoring every inch of you, until he was thrusting up inside you and he didn’t hold back. Holding your hips with one of his hands, the other met the space between your breasts, pushing you back until you laid down on the table. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer.

“Gods…” You moaned, holding onto the table like your life depended on it. 

With your eyes covered, you felt everything more intensely, Ragnar’s body on you, picking up the pace until he was pounding hard into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every thrust. You clenched down on him and he gasped, hand squeezing your hip hard while the other kneaded on your breasts that bounced with every movement of your body. 

When he felt your thighs starting to tremble, he brought his hand to your aching pussy and found your clit, making quick work of your bundle of nerves with the tip of his fingers. You moaned again, loudly, feeling your orgasm approaching you, the knot on your lower belly starting to form. 

“Let go for me.” He begged under his breath. 

With a particular hard thrust the knot snapped, triggering Ragnar’s own release as he pushed himself to a hilt, his body tensing as both of you panted heavily. He leaned forward for a moment spreading kisses all over your stomach before moving away from between your legs, putting his trousers back and holding one of your knees to keep you wide open, his cum dripping from your pussy, onto the table and on the floor. 

“That was...” Ragnar mumbled, three little slaps on your knee had you sitting up straight. 

“Can I-Can I go now?” You heard as Rollo begged.

“What? No…” You felt when Ragnar moved away and heard some shifting around you, the thrilling feeling of not knowing what to expect had your pussy throbbing with need in a way It never did before. “We’re only getting started.”

You gulped, scared about what he meant, but excited at the same time. Next thing you knew, the space between your legs was occupied again, a bulky, slightly familiar body stood there like it belonged there, you shifted on your place, not able to close your legs and feeling again self conscious of your own nudity. 

“Ragnar…” You mumbled under your breath, a pair of hands touched the sides of your face before you were kissed. 

Even though you felt familiarity within the act, that wasn’t Ragnar, that kiss was different, passionate, but still unsure, It felt like he was claiming a new territory. His beard scratched the soft skin on your face, his teeth nipped at your lower lip, you couldn’t help but open up to let him in, you held his face and kissed him back. 

“Can I do this?” He mumbled against your lips and you recognized Bjorn’s voice. You gasped, surprised. 

“Bjorn…” You whispered, your hands started to shake. 

“I’ll be gentle.” He assured you, one of his hands touching the side of your face. “I promise.” 

You felt your heart sinking to your stomach, like it was beating there, the blood in your veins ran fast and your body quivered, your mind was spinning, when his hands found the swell of your pussy you whined in his mouth, turning your head to the side giving him room to work on your neck. Bjorn sucked and nipped your skin like an artist painting his masterpiece, taking his sweet time while his fingers worked through your cum wet folds. 

He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that another man just fucked you minutes ago, by the feeling of it, he seemed turned on. Two of his fingers entered you when his mouth found your perky nipple and you moaned, arching your back offering him more of your chest. You were overstimulated from your previous orgasm and the sensations Bjorn was bringing to you, your peak wouldn’t take long so you clenched around his fingers and worked your hips in sync with his movements. With his thumb he started to nurse on your clit, rubbing the small bead in tight circles until you came on his fingers, a loud, long moan filling the great hall. 

Bjorn wasted no time after this, you felt him standing up and shimming out of his trousers, sinking into you in one swift motion. You gasped, not used to the way he stretched you out, and threw your head back, making room for him to kiss on your neck. He sheathed inside you, not pulling out immediately, just grinding against your hips first, his hip bone teasing your clit. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and arched your back, leaning back over your hands. He used both of his hands to grab your breasts then leaned forward to catch one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking on the perky buds. It was messy. Wet with your own arousal and Ragnar’s cum, you could feel it dripping from your core. 

Slowly, Bjorn pulled out completely, just to thrust back in. He did this a few times, dragging soft mewls from your mouth. With his hand between your breasts he made you lay down on the table once more, picking up his pace. You held onto the table while he started to rut against you with full force, your body jolting back and forth. His mouth was skillful on your nipple, going from one to the other and still using his hands. 

“You feel so good…” He mumbled, one of his hands leaving your breasts and quickly finding your clit. 

You moaned loudly. With two of his fingers he pinched your clit, then dragged his finger around in tiny circles. The pressure on your belly started to build and you squeezed your eyes shut, even though you weren’t actually with them open to start with. Your mind could only focus on his movements, you clenched around his cock and he growled, speeding up his fingers and his thrusts. Bjorn was fucking the air out of your lungs as he fucked you like his life was on the line, his cock throbbed inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin was filling the great hall and was so loud. 

“Enough.” 

Somewhere, on the back of your mind, you heard Rollo’s beg, but as your climax approached you could only think of this. Bjorn’s thrusts started to falter, he became sloppier as he chased his own release and you were right behind him, feeling the pressure on your body finally explode. You came around his cock, clenching down on him with a wanton moan. He came right after you, feeling you to the brim with his seed, grunting raspily. 

He wobbled away from you and you whined at the sudden emptiness. He leaned against the table trying to catch his own breath, eyes still on your fucked out body on the table. Unconsciously, your hands went to the cloth on your eyes, almost getting out of the way but a cold hand on yours stopped you. You whined impatiently but before you had the chance to complain, the same hand grabbed a handful of your hips, dragging you out of the table until you stood on the ground.

There was this silence, the only thing in your mind being the amount of pleasure going through your veins, you could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly while you tried to ease your body. Your hands traveled to the body in front of you, holding his shoulders while he kept his firm on your hips. 

You had no idea who he was, you felt his body against yours, the familiar scent you were used to feeling but couldn’t recognize him. His hips met yours and you felt his hard cock against your core, making you moan. Taking your face with both of his hands he kissed you. His kiss was calm, soft even, nothing like the sexual spiral you just got out of. His hands explored the sides of your body with care, like you would vanish from his sight at any moment. 

The mess between your legs made you painfully aware of what just happened, either way his fingers found their way to your core, his tips exploring your folds, he coated his fingers in the your slick, the mixed cum inside your pussy, then he pushed his middle one all the way in, til he was knuckle deep inside you. You sobbed and threw your head back when he started to kiss down your jaw so you could give him more space.

His kisses met your neck, he circled your clit and that made you jerk in response. Suddenly his fingers were inside your mouth and you whined at the taste on your tongue. You started sucking on his fingers, obscenely licking through it and he groaned when under his breath, you licked him clean.

He stretched you out with his fingers, pumping in and out of you as he kissed down your chest, your body arching, right thigh rising up his waist opening up a little more for him. He curled his fingers up finding your sweet spot and making you see stars behind your eyelids. You started to grind down on his fingers while the sound of your moans resonated around the great hall. He licked down your collarbones and your legs started to shake, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

You felt like your body was on fire, shaking violently until the knot snapped and your orgasm hit you like a punch. You  clenched hard on his fingers, body falling limp on the table, but before you had the chance to ride your own high, your body was pushed and turned around, your back hitting his chest, you could feel his hard cock on your behind, listening while he struggled with his trousers, pulling down his legs til the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock from its confines. He teased you with the tip between your ass cheeks and you teased back, grinding on his hips, silently begging for him to just slide in. 

He lined his cock to your wet folds, enticing another moan from you and then he pushed in, his tip stretching your walls. You gasped, fingers holding the table for support while you felt him sliding only a few more inches in. His hand rubbed up your back until he grabbed the nape of your neck, you grunted feeling him leaning your body forward, your breasts pressed against the head of the table while he started to thrust up into you. 

He was fully inside you when he used his free hand to pinch on your clit, making your body jolt, your walls fluttered around him, a choked whine slipped through your lips as he went deeper. He picked up his pace quickly, hands now on your shoulders tugging your body back to meet his thrusts, your body trembling when you felt the pleasure building up once again, extremely sensitive from everything that already happened to you. You both moaned loudly, he was lost on you just like you were on him, every thrust was powerful and deep, stroking every nerve ending inside your pussy. His hips slapped against yours, the table shaking with his movements. 

“Gods…” You cried out, feeling the pressure on your lower belly. 

He cursed under his breath, feeling your walls clenching hard around his length, his own climax coming through while you felt the first impact of your orgasm. Your entire body froze as he fucked you through the haze, coming inside you a few seconds later. 

“That’s your idea of punishment?” Rollo growled, his voice far away like It was in another room, your mind still dizzy with pleasure. “Are you punishing me or her?” 

“Her?” Ragnar scoffed. “I’m not punishing her, brother. Watch It… She likes it. She wanted It.” 

You felt a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and your body was gently sat on the table again, the mess between your legs just growing by the minute, staining the soft skin of your thighs and leaving you slightly bothered. A kiss on your forehead had you trembling even more, so you raised your hand trying to hold his.

“Who…?” You couldn’t finish the phrase, but your hand was softly removed and you were left alone. 

“It’s done, I’m done!” Rollo tried one more time.

You heard Rollo’s begs one more time, his voice was shaky and you imagined his face. If you remembered correctly at this point he would be all red and sweaty and your tummy twisted with excitement, you shouldn’t like this as much as you were.  

“Well… We’re not.” Ragnar answered carefully. 

For a moment nothing happened, you sat there with your body trembling. The line between pleasure and pain was thin and your body had started to complain about It. Suddenly you felt someone taking the place between your legs one more time but despite being so tired, your mind seemed to have other plans, your skin prickled at the warmth engulfing you, another familiar scent wrapping your whole body. 

He didn’t waste any time, he kissed you… Kissed you like he craved you, feverishly. His lips moved in sync against yours while his hands roamed through your sweaty body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugged him with your legs feeling his hard cock against your abused cunt. You were too sensitive, your body was hot all over, and even though It was telling you It couldn’t take it any longer, your fucked out brain wanted more. 

You grinded against his hips and started to fumble with his trousers until you freed his cock from its confines. You grabbed at his length and he moaned in your mouth, waiting for you to align the head of his cock against the pulsing entrance of your pussy and you cried out at the new intrusion, feeling incredibly sore. 

Overwhelmed by pleasure, you started to grind against his hips again, urging him to fuck you. With both of his hands on your hips, he set an excruciatingly slow rhythm, distracting you with his mouth on your neck, he started to paint your skin in dark bruises. You cried again, threw your head back while letting your hands on his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulders to anchor yourself, like his body was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from floating away. 

With one of his hands, he started to play with your clit, massaging the sensitive nub between his fingers, dragging more mewls from your lips, making you writhe against his strong grip. His cock was unrelenting, picking up his pace as he started to fuck you hard and deep, your sensitivity only amplifying the waves of pleasure that crossed your veins. Your pussy fluttered around his length and he knew you were close, hips bucking to meet his thrusts, the spongy head of his cock was pressing directly against your g-spot and you moaned loudly. 

You felt his hand snaking up your chest until it found your neck and he pressed for a moment, your breath hitched, caught up in your throat and you clenched down on him. You got lightheaded and his thrusts became sloppier, you could feel he got lost in yourself very quickly and arousal twisted in your stomach, you felt flattered. 

He gave a chucked off groan and for a moment you imagined who it could be, which one of them was fucking you this time, the great hall was filled with his grunts and the wet squelch of your pussy. 

“Faster… Please…” You managed to mumble. 

Your pussy was clenching desperately around his cock and he was throbbing inside you, he was close too, you could feel it. He fucked you hard and faster until he sheated tightly into your pussy holding you in place as he came, triggering your own orgasm. You came so hard your mind went blank, your body spasmed and you went limp in his arms. He held you strongly so you wouldn’t fall, your head on his shoulders as you breathed heavily. He rubbed your back for a minute before he pulled out and after making you sure you were firm, sitting on the table, he left. 

“I-I… Ragnar…” You raised your hand blindly and seconds later you felt his fingers intertwined with yours.

“You’re doing great for me, my love.” He whispered, lips on your sweaty forehead. “Can you give me one more?”

“I don’t know…” You breathed.

“I know you can, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He kissed your lips. “Give me one more so we can take care of you.” 

We. You noticed the weird choice of word and felt him when he kissed your knuckles. We. What did he mean by that? Your thoughts were cloudy when his warmth surrounded you again, he picked you up in his arms and you immediately wrapped yours around his neck, laying down your face on his shoulders, letting him carry you wherever. 

Ragnar sat you down on someone’s lap, when you felt a pair of shaky legs right under your body and nervous hands wrapping around your waist. He turned you around, made you put one of your knees on each side of that body and just like that he left. There was a nervous silence between you two, but you were close enough to feel his shaky breath against your cheeks. 

Suddenly, he used one of his hands to take off your blind fold, you blinked your tears away, trying to get used to the new brightness. You focused on the image in front of you and met Ivar’s widened eyes staring back at you. Ivar was nervous, but you could sense his arousal in the way that he watched you, intently following down your body, from your face to your collar bones and your chest, your soft belly and your exposed core, he gulped. 

You stayed like that for a moment, only looking at each other like you were trying to read each other’s minds, you almost forgot about the little crowd watching you two but as his eyes wandered over your shoulders you were reminded. 

“C-Can I kiss you?” He stuttered and you nodded dumbfounded. His lips touched yours slightly, shaky and cold, you didn’t kiss him back at first, then he pulled back, looking at you with a frown and a little pout. “You don’t want to…”

“No!” You were quick to respond. “I want to. I really want to, Ivar.” You reassured him and his expression softened.

You cradled his face between your hands and kissed him, this time deeply, your tongue teasing his as you felt his hands pressing on waist, pressing your body down. When you pulled away, he was gone, glossy eyes staring back at you as he choked out a whimper, following your face with his eyes still closed, reaching for your lips. 

He sighed and opened his eyes, he frowned again, so impatient. You touched his lips with your thumb, fluffy and wet from your last kiss and he licked the tip, you shuddered. Being that close he seemed so young to you, kinda lost in his own feelings and sensations, so different from the Ivar you knew, he always seemed so sure of himself. 

Ivar opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but as you rolled your hips down his lap he gasped, that seemed to erase every trace of thought in his head, he just closed his eyes and whimpered, throwing his head back. You used the chance to latch onto his neck, groaning quietly against his skin. Gods, you were soaked. It was definitely not like you hadn’t been fucked into oblivion by four men already, you were ready to get lost one more time. You licked his skin, sucked and nipped, leaving behind tiny red marks, basking in the sounds he was making. 

“Can I?” You asked him and he nodded, that was the only permission you needed to come back to his neck, to start rolling your hips over again. 

The rumors about the young man not being able to satisfy a woman were the biggest lie, you thought to yourself. You could feel him getting hard under your body and the thought of having him inside you was driving you mad. 

“I’m so wet for you, Ivar.” You murmured against his ear, only for him to hear you and he whimpered again, thrusting up his hips a bit. 

“For me?” He whispered breathlessly and you nodded, tracing his lips with your thumb again before kissing him feverishly. 

“Yes.” You grabbed his hand and put it between your bodies, his fingers met with your core, rubbing the mess of fluids on your pussy. “Will you help me?” 

He nodded, dumbfounded. You used your hand between your bodies to grab his cock and started jerking slowly, his lips parted as he gasped for air. The fact that these small touches were bringing so much pleasure to him was even more exciting to you. Your faces are so close you can feel his breath against your cheeks, your lips almost touch and his fingers trembled between your legs, nervously moving between your folds. 

Abruptly, you intensified your movements, he choked out a groan and closed his eyes, precum was leaking from his tip, making it easier for you to slide your hand up and down his cock, that pulsed and twitched in your hand. Quickly you moved it away, standing up a bit to line up his cock with your entrance, he looked at you like you were some sort of goddess, silently worshiping you, shaky hands wrapping around your waist as you sat down his length. 

“Gods… Please…” He groaned when he felt your warm walls engulfing him. 

You placed your hand on his shoulders as you fucked yourself over his cock, slowly moving your hips up and down. You brought his hand back down your body and started to use his fingers to massage your clit.

“Like this?” He asked in awe. 

“Yes…” You answered under your breath. 

Quickly you started to bounce on his cock, riding him like your life depended on it. The great hall was filled with Ivar’s small grunts and your breathy moans. You squeeze at his shoulders and threw your had back, he kept his fingers in your clit, drawing hard circles on your little nub just like you taught him and you could feel him twitching inside you, you knew he was close and so were you. 

You moaned with every thrust, you hunched over and kissed him, his arms wrapped around your waist and he pushed you down on his cock. You felt his release and he moaned loudly against your mouth. Your own high coming down hard on you as you clenched on him, cumming for what felt like the thousandth time that night. 

You laid down on his shoulder for a moment, trying to ease your breathing as you came down from your orgasm. He hugged you tightly, thumb drawing small circles on your back and you could fall asleep right there, you closed your eyes and your consciousness almost abandoned you for a moment, that’s when you felt someone taking you up from Ivar’s lap and you whined, feeling empty and sore. 

“I’ll take care of you.” Ragnar mumbled in your ear. “Take him out, we don’t want him here.” 

You imagined he was referring to Rollo who was finally silent, or maybe you just stopped listening to your surroundings. In Ragnar's arms you did fall asleep, waking up again only when you felt a warm cloth between your legs, you quickly moved away from the touch but was stopped by a pair of hands on your legs. 

“I’m just cleaning you up.” Ragnar told you and you opened your eyes, finding him sitting by your side, you looked around and recognized his bedroom, the furs were soft against your skin and you were extremely tired. 

“Was I good?” You asked under your breath, reaching out for his hand, which he really took, taking it to his lips, spreading kisses all over it. 

“So good...” He said it against your skin and you smiled tiredly. 

After cleaning you up he snuggled by your side, covering your bodies with fur and putting your head on his chest, rubbing your hair as you slowly fell back to sleep. 

“Our best girl.” Was the last thing you heard before drifting into slumber. 

***

#vikings fic #history vikings #ragnarssons #bjorn ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #ubbe ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #bjorn smut #ivar smut #ubbe smut #hvitserk smut #vikings imagine #hvitserk imagine #ivar imagine #ubbe imagine #bjorn imagine #ubbe x reader #ivar x reader #hvitserk x reader #bjorn x reader #reverse harem #alternate universe

[bbunisre]

17: ALWAYS BEEN YOU (0.8k)

Besides being affectionate and caring, Tsumiki is your best friend and there is no better way to prove it than right now. After bidding the Uber driver a quiet gratitude, you escape the car to find yourself in front of Tsumiki’s house rather than your own.

The driver the second you close the door, leaving you to attend to your business.

The door opens before you can even knock on it.

“Tsumiki..."

She holds you in her arms for so long in the doorway

"You okay, kid?"

You look back to see Gojo standing there, arms crossed and in his pajamas, looking at you with a placid concern.

"I'm alright. Thanks for letting me in." you tell the two.

"Of course. You're family." Gojo answers.

"I figured you wouldn't wanna stay alone tonight." Tsumiki adds.

"You know me so well."

She smiles before ushering you in, "Let's get you to bed. It's been too long."

As Tsumiki brings you to bed, you can't help but be grateful for her. You're so lucky to have someone who truly cares for you and a place to go to when something goes wrong—whether it be a crazy ex or an argument at your own home.

Tsumiki gives you a pair of pyjamas and you use the spare toothbrush in her bathroom before getting into her queen-sized bed like it's your own.

"I'll be back in thirty minutes. I just got some cleaning to do."

You nod, "Thanks again."

"Don't worry. We can talk about Choso when I'm back... I'll get Gojo's wine for you."

You laugh as she leaves you alone in the bedroom.

Minutes pass.

There's a particular emptiness within the house you don't like, a sense of comfort you're too used to and its presence has been made quiet.

Where is it when you need it?

The door opens quietly and in comes a slowly moving figure, rummaging through Tsumiki's desk. He notices when you sit up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, I was looking for..." he pauses, watching the way you stare at him so avidly, an unfamiliarity swimming in your eyes, "Are you okay? I heard what happened."

Megumi sits at the edge of Tsumiki's bed as you remain sitting up, staring at him.

The only thing illuminating the room is the light that seeps in through the ajar door from the hallway, casting a halo-like glow on Megumi's face.

You forget completely what happened with Choso the moment Megumi tampered with your thoughts.

There's a pull in your chest, "I'm alright. I'm glad i got out of there because he was going to talk to me and I just couldn't be there. He was making me uncomfortable."

"I don't understand why he couldn't take 'no' as an answer. You already told him you didn't want to talk to him."

You nod, "Exactly. He doesn't care. He just wants me so he has something to control again."

Megumi sighs.

"How's it been with you?" you ask, changing the subject.

"I've been up all night trying to finish an assignment."

Megumi's like a blank canvas compared to Choso's tainted one—it feels wrong talking to Megumi about Choso. It was like you were bringing the contamination of Choso into Megumi and that didn't feel right.

You want to start again.

"Mhm. Which subject?"

You deserve to start again.

"History."

There's no better person to start again with than Megumi.

"It wasn't an accident, was it, Megumi?" you ask.

"Sorry?" he asks.

You softly smile, "That night. At Panda's party when you confessed to me."

Silence.

Megumi stares at you blankly and for a second, you doubt yourself but there's no way he doesn't like you. He confessed drunkenly, he's there for you every second and he looks at you with those eyes.

Even with a blank stare from Megumi, it's like your whole body is on fire.

"It was an accident," he admits, looking away. suddenly, Tsumiki's girl group posters are nicer to look at, "I've had a crush on you for so long, Y/N."

It's like you've been set on fire.

"Really?"

Yyes...do you feel the same way?" he looks up at you.

"How can i say no?"

A smile.

Megumi smiles.

As much as you want to reach out and hug him, you refrain, knowing Tsumiki could be just around the corner.

"I've wanted this for so long."

You open your mouth to say something but you're immediately interrupted by the door opening.

"Megumi! Why are you bothering Y/N?!"

You laugh out loud, surprised she's suddenly there, "Yeah, why are you bothering me?"

He does his best to mask his smile and inevitably fails.

"Out!" Tsumiki scolds.

Megumi makes his way to the door, giving you one last look before disappearing. Tsumiki locks the door behind her and switches on the flash on her phone.

"Got the wine."

For the first time in a long time, you don't feel like drinking. Instead, you feel soft.

Megumi's made you soft.

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[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Gloves

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: public sex, fingering, smut, angst, threats, sexual tension, domination, violence, mention of the murder ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although the thought of marriage and motherhood had terrified her before her father's death, now, being married at last and hoping to become the mother of her husband-king's children, she understood that it was all just a matter of the person she was to spend her life with.

Her husband, though terrifying and cruel, understood his duty as a husband and as a lover and fulfilled them to the best of his ability. She did not expect sweet words or confessions from him, knowing that they were not in his nature, however, he showed his affection to her in a different way.

Through his actions.

When that insolent woman dared to suggest that she become her husband's mistress in the future, that she would bear his child, she felt disbelief and a sense of betrayal spill over her insides.

She clenched her lips, trying with all her might to hold back the tears of humiliation that appeared under her eyelids.

How dare she?

"Hold her." She heard her husband's cold voice and saw him stand from his throne with a sudden, impatient movement.

"− give me your sword −" He said to Ser Criston in an unobjectionable voice − his guards grabbed the woman under her arms and forced her to kneel before them. She noticed with satisfaction that there was no longer a trace of the certainty of a moment ago on her face.

Her husband was unpredictable, burning like a fire that could not be tamed.

Anyone who tried was doomed to burn.

She listened to her desperate explanations with her lips clenched, pale, begging in her mind that her husband would not change his mind, that he would not let her go after what she had said, allowing her to leave a scar in her heart forever.

The thought that one day they would meet again without her knowledge and her prediction would come true.

A great uproar spread around them, people shouting at each other, until suddenly a blade swished swiftly in front of her − the woman who had just stood before them was deprived of her head, which rolled down the stairs to the stone floor with a thud.

"Her every breath would be an insult to my Queen. Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries to plot against her. Guards, lock Lord Ronwell in the dungeons until she decides what to do with him." He said lowly, with some kind of regret towards himself for allowing such a situation to happen.

He looked at her with a calmness in his eye, a conviction that he had done the right thing, that whatever this woman had predicted would never come true.

Once again, he made her feel an overwhelming sense of relief, like when she saw her mother and learned that she was alive.

She thought, looking at him with parted lips, feeling sweet throbbing between her thighs, that she would give him everything, would drown with him in her blood, would not let him carry the burden of this sin alone.

He did it for her.

Never before had she come as hard as she had that evening, feeling the tart taste of blood in her mouth as he slammed into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her weeping cunt with his fat, swollen cock, aroused as much as she was.

She couldn't even remember when she reached her peak, feeling that she almost screamed with pleasure along with him.

She sighed quietly as she felt his hot seed finally spill inside her, feeling only fulfilment, only peace.

"− good gods − are you all right? −" He asked uncertainly, horrified surely as she was at how brutal and sacrilegious this closeness was.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

She heard him sigh out loud as she nodded her head, his large, rough hand stroking lightly her soft buttock.

"Let's take a bath." He suggested and she nodded again, completely without strength.

They undressed slowly when they were left alone with the steaming tub filled with pleasantly warm water. She dipped her feet into it first and then sat between his legs, resting her wet back against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. She heard him hum quietly, feeling his fingers combing through her hair in a tender gesture.

They lay like this in silence, calming down at last, fingertips of his free hand trailing thoughtfully over her bare body making her feel goosebumps.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her suddenly, startling her completely − his voice quiet and uncertain, on the verge of a whisper.

She lifted her face higher, twisting with a quiet splash of water, wanting to look at him, raising her fingers to his cheek and running them over his skin.

"No." She replied softly, warmly, his hand combing through her hair with a light, musing gesture.

"I tried to kill you." He said lowly, as if merely stating a fact that he felt should concern her.

"Then why am I still alive?" She asked tracing her fingers along his chin, cupping her nose against his cheek. She heard him snort under his breath.

She didn't have to look at him to know that an amused grin was painted on his face.

She felt his hand trace a circle over her lower abdomen, massaging her warm skin under the water, knowing that all he was thinking now was the fact that she was filled with his spend.

Neither of them said anything more.

They conveyed most of the things to each other without words. She felt that he was able to express more with his hands than with his mouth, his fingers combing through her hair, stroking her naked body at night showing her what he felt, what he desired.

They both knew how empty and worthless words could be.

After what had happened to Alys Rivers, no woman dared to even attempt to come close to her husband anymore. She decided to show mercy to the lord who had brought her before them and was plotting against her, knowing that if her husband killed him, his whole family would turn against him.

She knew that the whole court had witnessed what would befall those who would try to come between them.

She found with amusement that they did not understand where their attachment and affection came from, thinking that it had a purely physical undertone that could always pass when someone more beautiful or more tempting appeared on the horizon.

Their marriage, however, was primarily based on how deeply they were bonded by their pasts, how they experienced things similarly, sunk in darkness, coming out at night to haunt the castle's inhabitants like ghosts.

She had the impression that there was a disturbing aura around them, that people feared them not only because of their power, but also because of that hint of madness they saw in their eyes.

After a time of war and unrest, her husband's lords advised him to take advantage of the fact that the new year was approaching, to use the date as a break from the past and to allow celebrations in the fortress as well as throughout the kingdom.

"Do you think it's appropriate? To hold a carnival and balls for chattels and drunkard lords?" He asked, sitting stretched out in his chair, obviously unconvinced by the idea, yet realising that his cool nature may have overlooked some of his subjects' needs, which did not mean that they were not important.

"The people have at last regained their King, peace has prevailed. Even though you won't do it, they want to move on and forget what happened eight years ago, begin again. Let them enjoy themselves, give them a day full of wine, bread and dances, let them decorate their town and enjoy themselves as they wish." She said softly, looking at him with a gentle gaze. He sighed heavily, massaging his forehead with his hand.

"Am I supposed to sit for hours behind a table and watch them make fools of themselves?" He asked impatiently, and she pressed her lips together, approaching him slowly with the quiet rustling of her gown.

"Arrange for it to be a masked ball. Let's blend in with the crowd. Don't we also have reason to celebrate, my husband?"

To her surprise, after much thought, he agreed to her proposal. His lords accepted his decision with relief, themselves apparently looking for an opportunity at long last to get out of the stress and sacrifice they had put in to help him regain his throne.

None of them told each other what they would wear or when they would appear in the throne room, recognising that it would spoil everything. She ordered that a matte, soft black gown be prepared for her, with a cut neckline with exposed shoulders and back, bold and unworthy of a queen or true lady.

She wore a black mask over her face, sheathed in a material identical to that of her gown, her dark hair loose. She did not put on any jewellery − she liked the simplicity and at the same time shamelessness of this attire.

She thought that this night she was not a Queen, she was not a lady but a shadow, a phantom, a mist, something intangible, something she had always wanted to be.

As she left her chamber she was immediately struck by the sounds of violin and flute music, loud conversations and laughter. She turned into the corridor and noticed hundreds of people discussing with each other, each of them disguised, masks over their faces.

She noted with satisfaction that no one bowed to her, that no one paid any attention to her, that she was like air.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sense of empowerment and impunity at the same time.

She stepped into the main hall, which was the throne room, looking at the couples dancing in the centre of it − lovers for just one night pressed their bodies close to the walls, enjoying the time they were given as best they could, knowing that tomorrow they would have to return to their husbands and wives.

They all had goblets filled to the brim with wine − she could smell the roasts, soups and breads from the tables around her.

It seemed to her that she had joined some temple of promiscuity and splendour, her heart pounding like mad.

She walked unhurriedly among the crowds of people, gazing intently at their fanciful costumes, eavesdropping on their conversations, listening with amusement as the apparent anonymity gave the court's inhabitants the courage to speak their minds about her and her husband.

"I once passed by our King's chambers at night. There were such noises coming from it that I thought they were both dying in agony." Said a woman with light hair pinned up in a bun, her mask and gown blue, adorned with gold threads.

"She is a witch. As a traitor's daughter, she certainly has her ways of deceiving the King's mind." The other woman, younger, replied − she seemed to recognise in her the daughter of one of the lords who had strenuously tried for weeks to stumble upon her husband in the crown's library, wishing to seduce him.

"They are both mad." She hummed to them with amusement, and saw that they looked at her, trying in the semi-darkness to recognise who she might have been, but she did not let them stare at her and moved on, looking thoughtfully at the dancing pairs.

She was surprised to hear someone moaning behind her, and spotted a couple who were clearly just having a rapture with each other − both of them pressed up against the wall, hidden in the shadows, apparently hoping that no one would interrupt their obviously wonderful delight.

She smiled under her breath, turning her face away − she felt a throbbing between her thighs at the thought that her husband might take her in the same way this evening, in front of everyone.

She almost laughed at the thought that perhaps these prudish ladies would recognise them and their moans.

"My Lady." She shuddered when heard someone whisper behind her, masculine and low, pleasantly throaty. She did not turn towards him, looking ahead.

"You caught my attention right away. That beautiful back." The man muttered, running his fingers over her exposed skin − she felt a pleasant shiver, but did not bestow a single glance on him.

"I have to dance with you, my Lady, because I swear I'm going to lose my mind."

She lifted her chin higher and hummed, considering his words.

"We have enough madness in this stronghold so I am afraid I must prevent your downfall and agree, my Lord." She said, extending her hand to him − he took it respectfully and led her towards the spinning pairs.

She hadn't done it for months and never in this way and this man, whoever he was, was an excellent dancer.

He dared to shamelessly place his hand on her bare back and only then did she lift her warning gaze to him; his hair was dark and curly, reaching his shoulders, he was well built and tall.

She saw that he parted his lips when he saw a small part of her face, her eyes, lips and chin emerging from under her black mask, looking at her as if his breath had been taken away.

"Tell me you don't have a husband." He choked out between one turn and the next, their hands meeting in another movement.

"I have a husband, my Lord, and I am a faithful wife." She said softly − the man licked his lower lip, leaning over her, only to take a few steps away from her, their hands touching again.

"Is that so?" He murmured defiantly, and she smiled, amused, feeling herself throbbing at the thought that her king, her husband might have just watched her from afar, might have recognised her, might have been furious with jealousy.

That he might have wanted to kill this brazen man.

"Mmm. I would be careful if I were you, my Lord. My husband is dangerous. He is a breathing death." She whispered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart at that thought, feeling with excitement that she was wet, her fleshy walls pulsing around nothing.

"I don't fear death. What I fear for is that I will never see you again." He said when the music ended, applause echoed around them, even though he should have done so, he didn't let go of her hand.

"You can be sure of that." She hummed with amusement, taking her hand and turning away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

She heard his desperate calls behind her and laughed, feeling like a mermaid who was leading an innocent young man to be devoured by a monster.

She was hot and walked over to the table to pour herself some wine, however the steel gilded jug was heavy and she had trouble lifting it. She shuddered and gasped when someone stopped right behind her, a large hand dressed in a black leather glove took it from her and filled her goblet halfway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?" She heard a cold, deep, familiar voice behind her, a powerful shiver of desire passed through her − she involuntarily parted her lips feeling the unbearable pulsing of her walls and lifted her cup to her lips, taking a deep sip from it.

"Yes, my Lord." She replied innocently, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his dark, dangerous, sinister aura.

"Dance with me."

She felt her heart stop for a moment and swallowed loudly, turning over her shoulder.

A tear-stained mask on his face, a hood on his head.

He looked like one of her father's ghosts.

Vhagar.

He held out his hand to her and she placed hers on it, allowing him to guide her between the couples spinning to the rhythm of the music.

She felt stunned by his scent and his presence − if a moment ago she had been a cruel siren longing to devour, now she longed to be devoured, wanted to burn in the fire of his wrath, to die in the embrace of his arms if that was his wish.

As they made a turn their hands clasped tightly over their bodies; they were far too close to each other to consider their dance decent, however this night no one paid any attention to such things, his gaze from under the transparent black material cold and distant.

"Do you enjoy balancing on the edge of life and death, my Lady?" He asked low, his voice like ice, like a sharp blade − her pink lips swollen with desire parted slightly, droplets of sweat on her bare arms as they spun around each other, their hands touching.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him hum, as if he accepted her answer.

She felt overwhelmed, at the same time knowing who was behind the mask, yet being able to pretend that it was a complete stranger, a phantom who wanted to kill her, rip her entrails apart.

They didn't take their eyes off each other for the entire dance − there was something sensual in their movements, his gloved hand barely touching her bare back, she felt like she was about to die of lust.

She wanted him to do this to her, and he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.

When the music silenced they bowed to each other. She immediately headed towards the crowd, glancing at him meaningfully over her shoulder, watching to see if he would follow her. She stopped only at the wall, with nowhere else to go, her face illuminated only by the flame of a torch hanging nearby.

He walked towards her with a calm, lazy, firm step, like an executioner, like a judge, like a sentence to be imposed on her. She moaned as he turned her violently towards the wall, immediately pushing against her, she felt his hardness pressed against her buttocks.

"Whore." He hissed, she parted her lips and mewled, feeling her moist core throb around nothing, her cheek pressed against the wall, her fingers clenched helplessly on the cold stone.

She heard him pull off his gloves and throw them on the floor − one of his hands grabbed her neck and forced her to arch back and buck up, the other with an impatient, rough movement lifted the material of her gown at the front, slipping immediately between her thighs, they both groaned low with pleasure when he felt how wet she was.

"− what happened here? − hm? − fuck − all sticky −" He breathed out between her helpless, sweet moans, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, digging deeply into her skin around her pearl, teasing her with circular, sure strokes, involuntarily her hips began to rub against his hard cock hidden in his breeches behind her.

"− oh − oh gods, yes −" She mumbled dulled by how pleasurable it was − she heard him chuckle lowly behind her, his other hand clasped tighter around her neck. She squirmed as his finger tentatively slid inside her, only teasing her slit.

"− look at him − look at him when you fuck yourself with my fingers −" He growled and she obeyed his command, looking at the man who only a moment ago was ready to ask her to marry him − he stood in the distance looking at them in disbelief, his lips slightly parted.

She moaned, responding with her hips to his strokes when she realised that he must have imagined he was in the place of that black hooded figure standing behind her.

"− does your husband fuck you too rarely? − doesn't he stretch you well with his cock? − hm? −" He snarled, sliding his finger in and out deeper and deeper, pressing and rubbing again and again the wonderful spot hidden between her fleshy walls.

"− I − mghmm −" She mumbled out feeling that she was about to come, panting loudly along with him, his hips rubbing aggressively against her buttocks.

"− let's show him what duty a husband has to his wife −" He exhaled, sliding his finger out of her, his hand wet with her juices lifted her gown up.

She felt a chill wash over her exposed buttocks − there was music and loud conversations all around them, everyone could see what they were doing and although they weren't the only ones, the thought that it was happening right now and this way, made her legs tremble.

She heard him quickly undo the clasp of his coat, covering her with his body, not allowing anyone but him to see her womanhood, all swollen and wet with her moisture. She squirmed when she felt his freed, hard erection hit her bare skin, his fingers spreading her folds before him as the fat head of his cock pressed against her slit from below.

He opened her wide with one simple, sharp thrust, slamming into her like mad, his hand clamped around her neck forcing her to lean back more − she could feel his hot breath against her ear despite his mask.

"− look at him − he's fucking himself with his hand while looking at my wife − at my − fucking − wife −" He growled sinisterly, infuriated, rooting into her quickly and brutally, with each thrust of his hips forcing her sore, fleshy muscles to barely fit him in, his thick, swollen cock rubbing her so wonderfully that a cry broke from her lips − even if she wanted to she couldn't see anyone anymore, her gaze and mind clouded from pleasure.

"− you know he's already dead, don't you? − ah − would you want him to touch you before he died? − for him to root his cock deep inside you just for once? −" He hissed out between aggressive, deep thrusts, pounding into her with a loud slapping of flesh against flesh, both of them panting desperately, her body responding to his every move with rocking her hips.

"− n-no − your seed − I want it inside me −" She babbled with difficulty between her whimpers and his thrusts from which her whole body trembled − she heard his low groan of surprise and delight, his cock throbbing hard inside her, feeling her walls clench around him greedily.

"− beg − fucking beg −" He growled pounding it into her so hard that her pleasure was on the verge of pain − she cried out loudly sensing that a few more of his movements and she would come, feeling that wonderful tickle in her lower abdomen every time the tip of his cock rubbed against her upper wall again.

"− please − please, husband, have mercy − fill your faithful wife −" She mewled pleadingly, despairingly, pathetically, thinking only of the fact that she wanted him to come inside her, that she wanted to feel his spend trickling down her thighs when she looked again at this insolent man.

"− faithful? − you let him touch you − your bare skin that belongs to me − fuck − you don't deserve this grace −" He mocked licking his lips loudly, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud click of her wetness with each ruthless thrust of his hips.

"− p-please − oh − oh gods, m close −" She mumbled out in delight and parted her lips in shock as a powerful wave of pleasure surged through her body again, again and again.

She clenched her eyes shut moaning shamelessly − she heard him gasp lowly, pounding into her faster, panting heavily, his cock twitching all over inside her.

"− fucking take it − take it-take it-take it −" He growled rooting it into her so hard that her throbbing walls forced him to let go and at last he filled her with himself with a sigh of relief, rocking his hips inside her for a while longer, several couples standing near them looked at them in disbelief.

She squirmed with despair when she felt him slide out of her − he tied his breeches quickly and lowered her gown with an impatient flick of his hand, covering her buttocks and thighs where his seed was trickling down. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had moved forward, between the crowd.

She sank to the floor, panting heavily, her face hot from the exertion huddled against the cold wall, her heart pounding like mad.

She saw that those around her were looking at her and she wondered if they recognised her.

After a moment, she rose as if nothing had happened and moved towards her husband's chamber, stepping inside without a word, slipping her black gown off her shoulders, lying on his bed with only her black mask over her face, her thighs sticky from their mingled moisture.

She lay in the dim candlelight as he stepped into his chamber − her attention immediately drawn to the fact that he had no mask, his hood slipped from his head, his hands all covered in blood.

With a calm, nonchalant movement, he approached the table and undid the buckles of his cloak, dropping it to the ground, sinking his hands into a bowl of water, washing them thoroughly of the sticky red.

"Has my wife enjoyed her evening?"

"Yes, my King." She whispered softly, lying on her back, one of her legs bent at the knee swinging slightly from side to side, her hands placed on either side of her head.

"Mmm."

"I warned him that I have a husband and that I am an obedient, faithful wife. That this was the last day of his life. But he didn't listen." She whispered, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, knowing that they were both mad, that she shouldn't feel such heat at the thought that he was so sickly jealous of her.

And yet.

"Mmm, no need to fret about it anymore, my love. He will never bother you again."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #dark aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond smut #modern dark aemond #dark aemond angst #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fanfiction #aemond fanfic #ewan mitchell fandom #aemond fandom #house of the dragon fandom #hotd fandom #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #aemond kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond

[aliveinacoffin]

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Come back to bed part two

In which the bed is still cold when you lay down

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exhausted, you had ripped off your spider suit and left it laying around your apartment.

Your apartment.

The one you had in your own universe.

The sound of sloshing water could be heard from your tiny bathroom, the disgusting yellow fluorescent light illuminated you in a sickly sort of color.

The feeling of hot water, almost too hot, engulfed you in a nice warm hug. Almost a substitute for the one you had been craving from the man you desired. But it would never compare to the real one.

Lazily you washed your hair and body, hissing when you grazed over your still-open wounds. You never did go to the nurse's office, it would be too invading after such a private and heated moment. Now you were just emotionally exhausted as well as physically.

Still, you pushed yourself and moved through the motions of life, trying to get through the painful cleaning process to make the journey to your bed.

___________________________________________

The water grew cold the longer you sat in your tiny tub.

You had stopped bleeding for the most part thankfully. The effects of your day evident in the murky brown bath water, looking just as shitty as you felt.

After what seemed like an eternity, you forced your aching and hurt body out of the tub and out of the bathroom. Your head hung low you hobbled your wet body through your tiny apartment, feet dragging through the mess of your home. You could see the dust already forming on your tables and countertops, the effects of the multiverse in your home.

On the way to your room, you threw open your hallway closet and lazily wrapped your back in white bandages. You could feel the warm feeling of wetness gathering on your back, but you were too out of to care, the stinging of your eyes bringing attention to more pressing matters.

Still, you made your way to your unmade and dirty bed. Weakly you threw off dirty clothes that had been sitting since forever and wrapped yourself in the dirty sheets of your empty bed.

You froze that night, the cold bed and your even colder house chilling your fingertips and insides.

___________________________________________

You woke up to your head ringing like it was trying to explode and decorate your room with the contents of your mind.

The source of your agony was ringing somewhere in the hallway/ In more ways than one that statement rang true.

When the ringing didn't stop after a reasonable amount of time, you practically threw yourself from your bed and slammed open the door of your bedroom. Stomping out with tears in your eyes, you tried to look at the watch.

Immediately it picked up, and Lyla's sweet form appeared. Her big grin disappeared when she saw you, somewhat sweaty, back covered in blood, and extremely pissed.

Now you being mad wasn't exactly a rare sight to see, but you being genuinely, truly mad was an idea that hadn't come to fruition yet, until now.

"What do you want from me." Your voice came out in a growl, harsher than you intended but you had no regrets.

"There's a team meeting today, about the new anomaly Miguel detected. He says it's mandatory, but I'm sure you can just...catch up with an email later." She said devoid of her usual silliness.

"Great. Sent me a condensed report of the meeting when it's over, thanks bye." You hung up and chucked the watch at your wall. A heavy THUD echoed in your abode, circling around you filling up the silence that otherwise existed.

You sighed, tears falling freely as you hit your head against the floor to hunch over naked in your living room.

It wasn't the fact that Miguel was busy that bothered you, of course not. It was the fact that during the whole week, he had turned ice queen on you and completely shut you out. Snapping at you for the tiniest of reasons and completely ignoring you, if not going out of his way to be cruel. He hardly was taking care of himself, and while that worried you, anytime you tried to even help him a little he'd snarl and bite at you.

Then, when you had sought comfort from him, he acted as if you were some petulant child, something so stupid that it couldn't take care of itself.

And that hurt you in a way that broke you right then and there.

Somehow you managed to fall asleep.

___________________________________________

Something was rubbing your back. You could feel the warmth of something large running up and down your back. Your very clothed back.

Shuffling, you could feel you were wearing more clothes than you remembered, and your bandages felt neat and clean. Like someone took the time to carefully place them on you, unlike the sloppy joke you had done the other night.

You felt better too, the sweat and leftover grime from your nasty bath had been wiped way. Plus, your body wasn't as sore as it was when you fell asleep.

And you weren't on the floor anymore.

Opening your eyes, your vision was filled with dark blue. Dark blue fleece swam in front of you, clouding your already blurry vision.

"Sana sana, colita de rana." A deep voice rumbled you out of your dizziness and confusion.

You chuckled, the sound muted by your position on your stomach.

"Tha's for kids Miguel. I'm grown." You sighed out, and looking up at him you could feel your eyebags.

He looked down at you, in even worse shape than you. Deep eyebags and a sickly look on his face, lips cracked and eyes bloodshot.

"I'm just trying to make you better. I...hurt you after all." He looked at your back, hand still running gently from the top to bottom. Then back up again. You couldn't deny it, it felt nice.

"Well, not physically. You can thank a giant lizard for that."

"I won't thank him at all. He hurt something I cared for." He said, trying to lighten up the tense air.

"But not something important to you."

That made him freeze. His hand literally stopping in mid-air, face stuck in a silent shock at such a bitter statement.

Miguel started to softly say your name, but you cut him off before he could finish.

"Don't. It's alright, I can read a room." You grunted, sitting up on your knees. Miguel hands shot out to steady you but you shoved them away.

There was a pause while you analyzed his scrunched-up face, while he was trying to find words, you had found yours.

"You look like shit." He blinked at you before he laughed lightly.

"What? I'm being serious. Have you eaten? Slept? Shit even?" You weren't even trying to be funny with that last statement, he was acting like such a shit it made you wonder if he was just becoming one.

"All of the answers to those questions are different. But what about you? ¿Has comido? Have you drank any water?" Miguel's eyes turned caring and worried again, his hand immediately coming up to check your forehead.

"Stop, don't be such a hypocrite. Why do you even care? Don't you have some big bad guy to chase?" You asked, anger and sadness coming to claw at the back of your throat.

"I fucked up. I'm sorry. Please let me try and fix it, fix you." He grabbed your face, looking into your eyes.

"Why didn't you help me? I needed you Miguel, and you just shook your head at me." Your voice came out in a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder your sobs would break through.

"I tried, I was just stupid and being a pendejo. I was blinded to see you needed me." He whispered back, clearly just as emotionally, mentally, and physically drained as you were.

"No-no I'm being unreasonable. This-that was important, obviously, and you needed me to support you and I'm over dramatic. I'm sorry Miguel, I'll be better-" You started, hot tears now falling freely down your face.

"Stop," Miguel cut you off. He sighed and looked down, his hands falling with his gaze and rested in your hands. He picked one up and put it into his warm face.

"How about this." You sniffled, "Next time why don't we just let one another take care of each other."

"And to think rationally for ourselves, even if we're hurt, You could've bled out on my floors ángel." He said, face serious but his eyes showed true fear.

You laughed, wetly and grossly. "Deal. Now it looks like it's my turn to take care of you." You got up, wincing at the pain in your back.

"Amor-" Miguel started.

"My turn!" You cheered.

___________________________________________

"What was the meeting about, by the way?" Your hands scrubbed through Miguel's dark locks. Thankfully the tub in your shared home at the base was bigger, specifically for how huge Miguel was.

His head was turned away from you, so you couldn't see his furrowed brows and pained look. "Nothing we have to worry about anytime soon." He grumbled.

You stopped, squinting your eyes at the back of his head before shrugging and continuing your cleaning job, figuring Lyla would just update you later like you requested.

___________________________________________

{FILE ERASED;;OVERRIDDEN}

___________________________________________

I downloaded mystic messenger because of break and I can already tell I've made a mistake. Also Jugaste y sufri started to play halfway through, like bathtub scene ish and I almost exploded.

!REQS OPEN :D!

Taglist!:

@staple-your-mouth @allysunny @bat1212 @sashaphantomhive @arraxthatsonjah

#miguel o'hara x reader angst #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #x reader #miguel o'hara x reader fluff

[sstan-hoe]

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — aemond targaryen ×fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — aemond doesn't like to dance, but for you, his wife he makes an exception...sometimes and today he decided not to, which leaves you to do the only right thing; make him jealous

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — canon level violence, a bit of smut like p in v and a little foreplay, it's dirty against a fucking wall oh but it's also a bit public like everyone could walk by, also cockblock

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — second one for aemond my loves!!! I haven't had the idea to write for daemon yet so let's see what comes to my mind — or from you (remember to follow me before requesting)!!! follow, reblog and comment !! follow @sstanhoe-updates if you don't wanna miss anything!!!

“Aren't you going to dance with me, my Prince?” you pouted at your husband who sat at the long table along with his brother, sister and mother, next to him your empty seat. Aegon was slouching his seat in the middle of the table with a cup of wine while Haelena danced around the room. Queen Alicent sat next to the empty chair that belonged to her daughter, leaving Aemond to Aegon’s right.

Aemond gave you a chuckle, “you know I do not like dancing,” he took a sip of his wine. You walked around the table, pulling your chair away and squeezed inside the space.

You laid your hand on his cheek, “not even for your lady wife?” once again pouting, with your hand still on his cheek you slowly sat down on his lap, your other hand finding a home around his neck.

“I love you very much my lady wife, however I have to leave you alone,” he sounded sorry, Aemond took your hand from his cheek kissing your knuckles.

It was nothing new that Aemond did not like to dance, but for you he often made an exception. You thought it would work with the puppy eyes, it did not, which meant you had to raise heavy artillery…jealousy.

“Fine, if my dear lord husband won’t dance with me, I will find someone else,” you huffed and lifted yourself from his lap.

He watched you leave, swaying your hips. It didn’t take long before a lord asked you for a dance which you accepted and gave Aemond a teasing smirk. Your husband was well aware of the game you played and despised the fact that it was working.

Lord Markentower had his hands on your waist as you rested yours on his shoulders, “I cannot understand why your lord husband won’t dance with you, you’re such a beautiful lady,” everything was fine until that slime opened his mouth. “Well lord Markentower, it does not matter how beautiful I am if he refuses to dance with me,” you kept your tone as polite as possible.

“Of course it does, if I had a beautiful wife just like you then I would never miss a chance to show her off,” he sounded arrogant and sure of himself that he would even get a wife to show off with this attitude.

“Are you saying that if I was ‘ugly’ then you would not have asked me for a dance?” you always hated when men downplayed a woman's beauty just because they didn’t fit their type.

“I wouldn’t have, you are correct. Who would want to dance with someone ugly?” he asked as he twirled you around. “Do well to remember lord Markentower that just because a woman does not fit your type means she is ugly.”

The voice of the young lord annoyed you to a point where you wished you would have never taken him up on that dance, but Aemond’s reaction would soon make it better.

Aemond was still sitting next to his brother watching your every move, he noticed by the way your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes squinted that the lord must have said something to anger you but you kept your cool, trying hard to make him jealous and the worst thing? It was working.

His eye caught the lord squeezing your waist a little harshly and how he pulled you closer. The action made Aemond stand up without hesitation.

Aegon watched him amused, he enjoyed watching how you knew which buttons to press with Aemond. It was different to him, Aegon knew which buttons to press to annoy his brother but yours were completely the opposite.

The young prince walked towards you with a glare directed at the man next to you.

“Excuse me, I would like to dance with my wife now,” he interrupted the two of you. Giving him a smirk you shook your head, “I am very sorry to decline your offer lord husband, you did not want to dance with me ten minutes prior and now that I have found someone you can not just steal me away,” you teased causing Aemond to roll his eye.

Lord Markentower gave Aemond a cocky smile, “the lady has spoken and I'm not quite finished with her,” you wanted to punch him in the face.

Aemond stayed calm at first and smiled at the Lord, a smile you knew meant no good. He put a hand on the lord's shoulder, pressing down, “if your life is dear to you I suggest you take your hands off my wife,” Aemond growled.

He let go of you with a fearful expression and scrambled to get away from Aemond who snaked his arm around your waist pushing you flush against his chest.

“I have this odd feeling that you like making me jealous…,” he teased and you rolled your eyes huffing, “me? Never."

Aemond shook his head and leaned down, “you have been a very bad girl…I think this calls for a punishment,” he whispered against the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to adorn your body.

Your husband smirked at your reaction and led you out in the hallway. His mother watched the two of you leave with a concerned look, she heard the whispers about you, what the Prince and his wife were doing in the middle of the hallways.

Once outside the hall, it was only for a matter of seconds before Aemond had you pushed against the nearest wall. Mouth pressed on yours, seducing you into a passionate kiss.

His hand bunched up your dress, and a surprising sound left his lips as he noticed something missing, “did we skip something this morning my love?”

Giggling, you bit his lip, “it must have slipped my mind,” you said innocently.

“Little minx,” he muttered, his hand stroking over your glistening folds, “already so wet for me, did my jealousy make you this wet?” Aemond's warm breath collided with your skin causing you to arch your back.

Aemond dipped his middle and pointer finger inside your cunt. A moan slipped from your lips as he caressed your sweet spot.

“You wanna let the whole castle know what we're doing?” his hand trailed up to your throat gently grasping it. “I wasn't the one who pushed you against a wall like a horny–,” Aemond's hand closed around your throat, cutting off the air for a second causing you to gasp.

“You little brat,” the Prince growled before he pulled you off the wall. The way he manhandled you only turned you on more, it would be described as sick by the ladies at court. His hand was still on your throat however his grip was gentler. “I wanted to be slow and help you ease into me but now I feel like you need to learn a serious lesson,” Aemond told you as his hand moved from your throat to the small of your back.

You were led to the hallway in which your shared room laid, this hallway was more secluded from the others and at this hour no one came by anyway.

His lips found yours again, they were pure addiction giving a feeling of ecstasy every time they touched you. They were as soft as pillows and you wished they would never leave you.

Your hands cradled his sharp jaw, Aemond desperately tried to open his pants as he was still kissing. He had to put all his concentration on his pants because as soon as your lips were sealed with his everything in his head was you.

Finally he got himself free and his angry leaking tip hit his clothed stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight, you wished you could suck him off but there was no time.

Aemond broke from your kiss, in need of air, his hands howled up your dress and he took your naked thighs lifting you up to line himself right with your entrance.

“Oh god!” You shouted, you would never be able to adjust to Aemonds length in such a short time – or ever.

“Quite or do you wanna get caught?” by the clenching of your cunt around his girth Aemond smirked, “so you do wanna get caught,” he pushed his hard member inside you again, without remorse.

Alicent Hightower couldn't shake the feeling that the whispers were true so shortly after his son and wife left she followed them. She rounded the corner and gasped loudly at what she found.

Her dutiful son had you pressed up against a wall with his cock deep inside you, you were moaning and whimpering. Alicent couldn't let this get out. “Aemond Targaryen! You let go of her right this instant. What were you thinking?” she shouted at her son.

Aemond froze just like you, turning his head he looked right into the eyes of his raging mother. He cleared his throat and let you down before turning around to tuck himself back in.

“I'm sorry your grace–,” “do not worry my dear, I will have a talk with Aemond about this and his behavior, he shouldn't have seduced you to this, go rest dear,” the former Queen said now in a softer tone. You nodded shamefully and turned around to leave but not before you looked at Aemond again.

You winked at him and gave a little smirk, it was not over yet.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x black reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #my one eyed prince 💫🐲

[flowerxbunnie]

Star Crossed

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: angst, cheating/breakup, underage drinking, scene involving cigarettes

“Fuck you Garrett, like actually.” I spat, gripping at the handle of his jeep and threatening to leave.

“What is your problem? You never told me that it wasn’t okay. She’s literally Tristan’s cousin. And your best friend is a guy, I thought you would be okay with this.” he argued, his face plastered with confusion but his voice filled with anger.

“Don’t try to make me feel crazy,” I warned, turning back to face him and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m okay with you having friends of the opposite gender. But I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England, since when is it okay to text other girls private details about our relationship?”

“I only do it when we’re in arguments and I need someone to vent to. She told me I could come to her when I was upset. It’s not like it’s an everyday thing.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

“Okay,” I let an angry chuckle out. “I’m gonna call up one of my girls’ cousins and tell him about this right quick then. See if he maybe has some advice for me.”

“That’s not the fucking same and you know it. He’d try to fuck you or god knows what else.” He scowled.

I stare into his eyes, blinking slowly, hoping the hypocrisy behind his words catches up to him. But it doesn’t.

“I just don’t get why you treat me like I’m some horrible boyfriend,” he starts, “I meet my best friend’s cousin at a bonfire, get her number and text her casually and you fly off the handle.”

“You text her about OUR RELATIONSHIP. When we’re at our worst. Why do you need advice from a random fucking girl who you barely know?” I snapped, my cheeks burning and my hands shaking. Tears threaten to spill over, something I hate about myself when I get angry. “Let’s not forget that you went through and liked every single one of her instagram pictures. Every single one. Was that a piece of the advice she gave you? To make your girlfriend look like a fucking idiot?” I fumed, his hands moving to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles. “And how do I know that’s all you talk about, hm? All the texts are deleted.”

His face remains blank as he grabs the gear-shifter and throws the jeep into reverse. His eyes flick up to the rear view and he backs out of our spot in the random shopping outlet’s parking lot, roughly shifting into drive a he pulls out and into the road.

“What the fuck are you doing, Garrett?” I grumble, watching the streetlights lining the road zoom past my window as he speeds down the highway.

“I’m taking you home. I’m not gonna stay with a crazy bitch who thinks she can micromanage my every move.” He spoke, his tone calm and his expression unwavering.

I take a deep breath. I’m done with the arguing.

“Okay.”

I close out of her instagram account, still trying to convince myself that my eyes are playing tricks on me as Garrett’s name is plastered under her newest scandalous photos. I toss my phone into the space between my bed and the wall, knowing it’s unhealthy to stalk her and mourn my relationship everyday. It’s been a week.

Somehow I’ve managed to drag myself to class everyday. The lessons don’t click in my brain this week, my notebook is empty and my pen is dry. I’m not even sure I have a voice anymore. I haven’t spoken to anyone unless I had to. None of my friends know what happened, I’m too embarrassed to come across as the crazy ex-girlfriend who got her heart broken because she can’t mind her own business.

Aside from class I’ve been lying down rotting for the past seven days, going back and forth on if I’m in the wrong or if I’m valid in my feelings. Garrett was right, my best friend is a guy, but I’ve known him since middle school. We know everything about each other, he’s like family. Garrett threw everything away for a girl he had just met, deleting text messages and completely failing to ever mention her name in conversation.

My body feels like it’s physically reacting, my muscles aching and my head throbbing. My mind races with questions.

How can someone who I poured so much of my love into take it and wring it down the drain?

How can I even feel angry? He just wanted a new friend.

Why did he like all of her pictures, even the first embarrassing one she ever posted in 2013?

Why are you so controlling?

Why didn’t he tell me?

Why do you care so much? It’s just Tristan’s cousin.

Is it bad for my boyfriend to like pictures of a girl in a hot tub?

I hear my phone vibrating, but I can’t even find the energy to move the comforter off of my body. I put a pillow over my ears and try to wish it away. I’m tired of the questions. I don’t want to explain why I’ve seemed down.

It keeps going off, vibrating against the wall over and over relentlessly. Huffing, I shove my hand down into the gap and dig for it, pulling it up and squinting as the screen beams light into my eyes.

“Party tonight at the same house as last week. Y/n please get off your lazy ass and come!!!”

“yeah y/n i need to see ur pretty face!”

“If Garrett gets mad tell him he can come too”

“its senior year pleaseee we don’t have many parties left :(“

My group chat is flooded with messages from my girl friends. I can’t even reply right now. Maybe getting out would be good for me, but I really want to sit in my two day old clothes and stuff my face with Oreos tonight. How dumb am I gonna look dancing alone?

My mind races for the next hour, contemplating whether going out will make me feel better or become a huge regret. Garrett and I never officially broke things off, we just haven’t talked in a week. What if he’s pining over it like I am? I can’t exactly just dance my feelings away with some random guy when I don’t even know the status of my relationship.

After a phone call from Sophie and a lot of convincing, I decide it would be best for me to get out tonight. I need the interaction, and maybe a couple drinks if someone was able to bum them from their college friends. I need to hear music, I need to speak with other humans. But I can’t go alone.

My phone hovers over Chris’s name, worried I might wake him up since it’s already late. I click it anyway, the dial tone only going off twice before I hear his voice on the other side.

“Y/n/n, what’s up!” he chirps.

I smile to myself, my best friend always cheering me up whether he knows it or not. “You know, the usual. Coming up with a blue print for a new and improved Golden Gate Bridge. You?”

“Fuck off,” he stifles his laughter. “I’m watching some show Nick and Matt told me about. For real though, what’s up?”

“Sophie is begging me to go to a party tonight. You down to be my plus one?” I question as I shuffle through my closet.

“Garrett didn’t wanna go?” he asks puzzled.

I take a moment and debate whether or not I want to tell him. I really don’t want to bring down the mood of the night. I’m supposed to be having fun.

“Nah, not tonight. He’s on some boys trip upstate.” I lie through my teeth.

“Sounds lame. I’ll be there, what time?” He asks and I hear rustling, presumably him getting up off the couch or his bed.

“Uhhhh like two hours….” I trail off, nervous it might be too short of notice.

“Alright, I’ll meet you at your house and we can walk together.”

“Perfect! Thank you Chrissy.” I feel tears well up in my eyes, actual happiness igniting, even if only a small spark, for the first time in a week.

“Don’t thank me, weirdo.” He laughs. “See ya dude.” The line goes silent.

I spend the next couple hours taking everything slow. I eat a meal, my first fulfilling one since that night. I wash my face, do my hair, throw on makeup to look and feel more alive. I decide on a maroon slip dress, silky and comfortable. As I’m saying my goodbyes to my parents and about to walk out the door, my phone vibrates in my hand.

“What color are you wearing?”

“Maroon!”

I smile as I text him back, knowing he’s gonna wear something to coordinate our looks. As cringe as it may be, that’s just Chris.

We meet exactly where we planned, the chill in the air causing us to walk shoulder to shoulder for any sort of warmth. We don’t talk much, but the silence is comfortable. We never felt the need to force something out of nothing. Nothing is everything with him.

We walk in and we’re immediately greeted by Sophie and a bunch of other people she’s been hanging around.

“Y/n!” She pulls me into a hug. “Where’s Garrett? Hey Chris!” She waves in his direction.

“Boys trip.” I shrug, going into as little detail as possible.

“Oh, well I’m SO glad you came. You haven’t been yourself the last few days.” She says while giving me a look of genuine concern.

“Class has been super stressful,” I lie. “But I’m so glad I came too!”

Chris smiles as he listens in on our conversation, waving at various people who greet him in passing.

He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a maroon sweater with a button up peeking out from underneath and some jeans that fall perfectly over his long legs. I’ve always been so jealous of his ability to throw anything together and make it an outfit, a good one at that.

“Chrissy I love your outfit,” I whisper in his ear, the music too loud to try to talk from a distance.

“Had to layer, it’s too cold for a ratty tshirt,” he jokes. “But I could say the same to you. You look gorgeous.” He smiles and bumps his shoulder against mine.

The night goes on and we drink, dance, take goofy photos in front of a prop wall, and talk to so many fucking people. I’ve went over my social meter for the night, but Chris looks like he’s having so much fun and I would never say anything to ruin that. He makes his way back over to me after a round of beer pong that he absolutely crushed everyone else at.

“I wanna get one more picture in front of the prop wall and then I think I’m gonna call it a night. Gonna walk to McDonalds if you wanna comeee..” he sing songs, giving me a pleading look.

“Thank fuck,” I laugh, relief washing over me. “I was done an hour ago. Just didn’t wanna take the experience away from you.”

“That’s crazy because I was also done an hour ago, but I thought you were having a good time.” He laughs, his nose scrunching up.

We walk over to the prop wall and find someone to snap a photo for us. I grab a pair of red heart glasses, he grabs a bow tie on a stick and holds it up to his neck.

“3.. 2.. 1… and cheese!” The girl slurs before the flash blinds us.

She tosses me my phone and we thank her before slipping out the door, thankfully going unnoticed by Sophie. We giggle and walk alongside each other on the sidewalk, the smell of dewy late night air flooding my nose. The streetlights carve out Chris’s cheekbones as he looks down at me, rambling about nothing and everything all at once. I listen intently, glad to have my mind on anything other than what it’s been rampant with recently.

“It’s fucking cold,” I complain as I cross my arms across my chest and rub some friction onto them.

“Here.” Chris quickly stops in his tracks and pulls his sweater off, his button up left behind. He tosses it my way and gives me a small smile.

It smells like him as I slip it over my head and bring the sleeves over my hands.

“Thank you.”

We make it to McDonald’s relatively quickly. Chris holds the door open for me and we order our food and find a booth to wait in. My feet ache and my hair just feels tangled.

“What a fucking night. I can’t wait to crash after this,” I sigh and lay my head on the table.

His hand comes down to rub my hair, a sweet gesture he loves to do. His love language has always been physical touch.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d hang out with me a little longer. I’ve got ideas!” He whines.

I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. You never know what this kid is going to come up with in the spur of the moment.

“Just wanted to walk around that nature park down the road. Seems spooooky at night.” He laughs and turns his head, standing up as the cashier calls out our number.

We laugh and eat, my mind completely free of any thoughts besides how much fun I’m having with Chris. Ever since we met in 6th grade art class he’s known how to keep a smile on my face. He’s the kind of person you can’t help but be drawn to. His laugh alone is infectious, filling up any room he’s in. He’s such an attentive friend, which is why I’m not surprised when his mood shifts and he starts to question me.

“So what’s been going on, Y/n/n?” He looks down at his fries and scoots them around.

Do we really need to do this right now? I’m prepared to sink back into my sadness once I’m alone. I don’t plan on telling anyone until I’m sure of where we stand myself.

“Uh, nothing really,” I mumble, taking a sip of my blue Powerade. “Just stressed from assignments and stuff I guess.”

“Not gonna fool me, kid. What’s up?” He looks me in the eye this time.

His blue eyes hold so much genuine concern. They flicker back and forth between my own and he blinks slowly awaiting my response.

“It’s Garrett.” I admit.

“What about him this time?” He huffs as his eyes harden, sitting back against his side of the booth with his arms across his chest.

“He… I don’t know. He crossed a boundary and I wasn’t comfortable with it,” I start, breaking eye contact and pushing my hair behind my ear. “And then he acted like I was out of line. He dropped me off at my house and I haven’t heard from him since.”

His gaze softens and he puts his elbows on the table, scooting closer to me with a knowing look. “I figured it had something to do with that. You know I can read you like a book. So is it over, or…?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I haven’t even tried to reach out.” I close my box of chicken nuggets as my appetite fizzles away.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. He fucking sucks.” He leaves it at that and gathers all our trash. “Let’s go.”

We walk to a nearby gas station in silence, the mood heavier this time. I wander around the snack aisle as he makes his purchase. I hear the bell on the door ring and look over as he holds it open and nods his head at me. The black bag swings lazily at his side as we walk to the park.

“What did you get?” I ask as we settle on a bench under a lamp post.

“Cigarettes. Oh and a lighter.” He says casually as he pulls them out of the bag.

“What the fuck,” I laugh, my eyes widening as I realize he’s serious. “Why?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, just figured we could try something new. You’re stressed and shit so I kinda just thought it would be nice, I don’t know.” He flicks his thumb across the lighter and the yellow flame illuminates his face before he blows it out.

“I mean.. I guess. I’m probably gonna cough super bad.” I laugh and straighten my legs in front of me, crossing my ankles.

“Eh, fuck it. I probably will too.” He laughs and rips the pack open.

He brings a cigarette between his lips and holds it there, cupping a hand around it to block the wind. His other hand comes up with the lighter and sparks it a couple times before he gets it to light. He holds the flame against the end and draws in a breath, the tip glowing red as it catches fire. He immediately pulls it away from his mouth and coughs loudly, standing up and holding his chest.

“What… the FUCK.” He says between heaving coughs, small puffs of smoke escaping his mouth each time.

I can’t help but laugh, throwing my hands over my mouth and taking in the sight in front of me. He shakes his head back and forth with his eyes closed, his brown waves flopping around. He extends his arm to me and squats down trying to take control over his breath again.

“Good fuckin’ luck.” He coughs out.

I lean forward and grab it between my fingers, his warm ones brushing mine in the process. He looks up and smiles before shaking his head in disgust again.

“So fucking dizzy.” He says as he sits down fully on the asphalt.

“Baby’s first nicotine buzz!” I joke, stopping my laughter quickly as he squints his eyes at me.

I bring the cigarette between my lips and drag on it, my lungs immediately filling with thick, rancid smelling smoke. I cough one big time and try to hold it in, puffing my cheeks out and attempting to hold my breath. My chest starts burning and my eyes are watering, and my body instinctively coughs over and over to try to clear my airway. I see Chris laughing through my blurry vision, smacking his knees and stomping a foot on the ground.

“Oh… my.. god.” I choke out, my head spinning and my fingers erupting with a static feeling.

“Yeah, shit’s no joke. How do people enjoy this?” He stands up and drags himself back over to the bench, reclaiming his spot beside me and grabbing the cigarette from me.

I cough on and off, still trying to rid my lungs of the contaminants. I throw my head back and my hair dangles off the backrest of the bench. Chris’s hand finds its way to me and strokes my hair softly and slowly. I bring my head back up and look at him, shaking my head with disappointment.

“Can’t believe you would do that to me.” I tease through a stifled smile.

“Just wanted to see what it was like..” he giggles and brings it back to his lips, the end glowing again as he takes a smaller puff.

He coughs once or twice as the smoke billows out of his mouth and dissipates into the foggy air around us. He looks at me with wide eyes. “Hey, that one wasn’t so bad!” He holds it back out to me, gesturing me to try again.

“Uhh.. I think I’m good. My lungs feel like they’re collapsing.” I push his hand back.

“You should try one more time..” he looks away in thought before snapping his head back. “What if we shotgun? I’ll take the brunt of the smoke and you can have whatever’s leftover. It’ll be less harsh that way.”

I’m sorry, but shotgunning a cigarette? First of all, that’s nasty. Does not sound appealing in the slightest. Secondly, I can’t fathom bringing my lips that close to Chris.

“Uhhh..” I trail off and shake my head slightly.

“Come onnnn Y/n/n!” He pouts, scooting closer to me on the bench. “I’m not gonna peer pressure you into it if you really don’t want to..” he says seriously.

“Fine. ONE more time.” I say and narrow my eyes at him.

He nods furiously and scoots even closer, our thighs touching and his cologne strong in the breeze. I can see every detail of his face under the light of the lamp post. His bushy but clean brows, his smile lines, his pink lips wet from obsessively licking them. His hair falls over his eyes as he brings the cigarette back into his mouth and takes a big drag. His eyes widen and he grabs my face in a rush, his warm hand against my cold cheek.

He pulls me close and our noses brush against each other. Time feels like it slows down to a crawl. I open my mouth and he does the same, our lips micrometers apart. His hot breath mixed with the smoke fan over my face as his eyes close, his long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. I can feel heat in my cheeks that I’ve never felt around him.

He exhales as I inhale, the smoke that was once in his lungs filling my own. I take all that I can and he stays for what feels like a moment too long, his icy blue eyes opening to lock onto mine. I feel a weird pit in my stomach and the blood stills in my veins. Why am I feeling like this?

He pulls back and scans over my face, watching as I exhale and a comically small puff of smoke blows out.

“Well, that was lame.” He laughs and brushes his hair back.

“Yeah, little bit.” I agree flatly.

We sit in silence and finish the cigarette together, our lungs adjusting and my mind racing. I try to take my mind off the feeling of his thigh still brushing against mine, but the nicotine doesn’t have any effect at all. I thought these things are supposed to relieve stress.

Once we’ve burnt it to the end, he rubs the bud against the asphalt and flicks it away. It rolls until it hits the curb and we both sigh at the same time. We look at eachother and laugh at our ‘jinx’ moment, not knowing just how different we were feeling internally but thankful that we feel no pressure to be perfect when we were together.

“I’m so thankful to have a friend like you, Chrissy.” I smile and blow some warm air into my frozen hands.

He smiles lazily at me for a second, an almost sad look flashing across his eyes as his hand comes to lay on top of mine and stroke the back of it with his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

•••

The morning sun comes out from hiding, her rays illuminating his brown hair on his pillow beside me. I watch his chest rising and falling steadily, a calming rhythm that could lull me back to sleep any day. Nothing makes me happier than waking up and feeling warmth on his side of the bed. I feel whole in his presence.

I look around at our bedroom and realize just how far we’ve come. We’ve both left the comfort of our parents homes and have made these four walls our own. Piece by piece we made a sanctuary like a bird collecting sticks and paper straw wrappers for its nest. I could go anywhere with him and build a nest. He makes everything okay.

I take my phone off the charger and scroll around aimlessly, hoping not to disturb his sleep, his pink lips hanging open and his eyes moving under his lids. I go through instagram and flip through recipes, gym videos, and dog compilations before I’m bored and close it out. I try Facebook and my distant older relatives have flooded my timeline with political garbage, so I close it out too. I open Snapchat and see a memory, smiling as I start to click through the photos and videos taken on this day from the previous years.

The first video plays, a snippet from last year of us in his car, lip syncing to one of our favorite songs. The next one is from the same night, a photo of him with his arm around me in front of the door to our then-new apartment. His eyes shimmered with happiness, mine mirroring his own with a huge smile plastered on my face.

I click again and watch as our past plays out on the screen in front of me. I can’t help but feel so thankful for the way everything worked out. So much would be different if the world hadn’t knitted us in the exact pattern it planned, one frayed thread and I wouldn’t be sitting in this room with the love of my life.

Click

My smile fades as I scan over the photo. I reminisce on the night, remembering everything as if it were a movie playing in my brain. They used to be some of the best times of my life. He made me so happy.

It’s strange how well you can know the inner workings of someone, sometimes more than your own. You know the temperature they like to drink their water, their favorite salad dressing, the commercials that make them cry. And you sit together and watch the commercials from time to time, because you know the end makes them smile again.

It’s strange how quickly it can all fizzle out, both of you existing in the world without a clue of who the person could be today. Here one minute and gone the next. I know he’s out there. He knows I’m out here. But who is he?

How different would my life had been if I did end up with him? Would I have had the same opportunities, the same zeal for life, would I be happier? Would it be my single biggest regret?

I wonder if he thinks about me and everything we went through together. I wonder if he remembers the angsty songs we played in his car late at night, or the scent of the air freshener I always bought for him when he ran out. Does he wonder what his life would be like with me, or has he moved on and found his own paper straw wrappers?

I know he was in love with me. I knew I loved him. But sometimes things are star-crossed and confusing and they hurt and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sometimes the right people come into your life at the wrong time. Do we pine about it forever, or do we let the world continue knitting while hoping the strings don’t fray?

I look over the photo once more, our shadows on the ground innocent and unaware of the future.

I look over and the boy beside me stretches his arms above him and takes in a deep breath before turning over to me, his brown waves a mess. He smiles from ear to ear and I can’t help but return it.

“Morning, baby.”

“Good morning, Garrett.”

a/n: i sobbed many times writing this im sorry if you like happy endings

taglist: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @lxvlysworld @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo edit #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader

[rosesbxrry]

Rendezvous

Pairing: Rugby Boyfriend! Jay X Cheerleader Fem! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), secret relationship✌️

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), Dom Jay, creampie, voyeurism (watching each other masturbate), so much mention of alcohol drinking, fingering, dirty talking, making out, riding, praising, mention of other sexual act done by them. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Your secret relationship with Jay is torturous to say the least, no thanks to the strained relationship between the cheerleading and rugby teams. Now with tournament season coming up and Jay being busy with training, you and he meet up for a secret rendezvous at a frat party after not seeing each other for two weeks, taking advantage of the situation where you both don’t have to worry about the peering eyes of your teammates. 

Main masterlist

Word count: 4,188 words

a/n: I don’t know how I ended up finishing this Jay fic first out of all the wips I have, and I still need to complete the nsfw links for him as well 🙃🙃 I guess rejoice to Jay stans, this one is for you 🫶🫶

You weren’t going to lie; the whole cheerleading thing was getting on your nerves, mainly because you could list all the drawbacks at the top of your head. 

Firstly, you bet you could find longer skirts that covered your ass better than whatever you wore they called uniforms. Secondly, no matter how bad the weather was, you had to stay on the field as long as the players were still playing, even if your pom poms were soaking wet from the rain. Thirdly, the amount of spare time you had to sacrifice to train between classes and assignments made you contemplate whether everything was worth the time and energy. 

How did you get into this position you may ask? Well, your friend Gaeul thought it was really funny to sign your name in the recruitment paper, dragging you along into her crusade of becoming the queen bee of the campus, even though she could very much have achieved that without you.

But the last drawback was the final nail to the coffin; it was embedded into the heads of all the new first-year students by the cheerleading captain that relationships with the rugby players were forbidden. Be sure to cooperate with that one rule and avoid getting kicked out of the team immediately.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how the feud between the rugby and cheerleading teams even happened in the first place. Your captain said that it goes way back, passing through alums, but you weren’t interested in history to remember the rest.

This drawback wouldn’t have affected you if only it weren't for Park Jongseong coming into the picture.

The secretive romance between you and him has been carefully built up behind the scenes, mostly because the amount of mutual friends you’ve shared with him ensues the moment you wake up naked in bed beside you after a very drunk party. 

Dealing with overly chatty teammates every day did have its perks, and based on what you can recall, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for the rugby players and cheerleaders to hook up with one another in silent compliance; whatever happens in bed, remains in bed. The players were informed of the same rule by their own captain about the rule which only further confirms the weird rivalry between the two teams. 

Having that little reassurance, you were sure the one-night stand was a one-off thing, but it seemed Jay wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

Months of his flirtatious advances led to the classified yet cliche friends-with-benefits relationship you had established with him. And sex with Park Jongseong was inhumanely insane, like out of this world fucking good that it hurts to even think of how his hips move in and out of you.

You could list all the places you’ve had sex with him; in a frat party, in an empty lecture hall— hell, you’ve even gone as far as fucking in the shower stall with him in the male’s locker room, only because you had waited for him when the players had an extended practice from the coach.

The cocky, rough sex in his car after his team won a match? That was just the cherry on top. 

All because you two couldn’t find a meeting place without everyone else's peering eyes, making it harder to hook up. 

At first, you were sure you had only entertained him because of the banging part but my god, the number of butterflies in your stomach every time he winked in your direction in the field, or when you were sick, he had discreetly visited your dorm through your window in the middle of the night to see if you were okay. 

Falling in love wasn't on your agenda, and as much as you hate the cheerleading club, you weren’t looking for trouble, yet he was exactly one. 

When the feelings were growing more than just sexual intimacy, the emotions took over. He kissed you passionately on the lips that it wasn't humanly possible for someone to show love through action alone, but this was Jay we’re talking about; he was able to make the impossible possible. 

With that remark, you found yourself making love with him that night, and the boyfriend-girlfriend relationship between you two was kept under public scrutiny, even with your teammates and friends. 

Or so you thought. 

“I think I kinda know who Jay's mysterious girlfriend is.” 

A chorus of hard coughing emitted from your throat when you choked on your drink, causing Gauel to look at you worryingly. The loud bass of the frat party almost swallowed her voice down. 

“You okay, Y/N?” 

You wave her off, closing your mouth to control the fits. “I’m— I’m fine. Who is it? I mean, who’s Jay’s girlfriend?” You nonchalantly ask, but the panic clawing in your chest starts to hurt. 

She gave you a once-over before replying. “Yeonjin from the drama club. Apparently, she used to pin him for months now. The other cheerleaders kinda conspiracies that it might be her.” 

Okay, you always hear gossip between your teammates, but why is this the first time you’ve heard it? 

Yes, you both agreed it was a good charade to tell people— talking about your significant other like separate entities as if you weren’t dating each other. A reasonable excuse for many advances and open invitations that includes your friend’s antics. 

However, you were starting to regret doing it because you have a feeling that your teammates aren’t the only people with a blabbermouth. If not, there wouldn’t be a hunt for Jay Park’s alleged girlfriend among the student body. 

You sighed, moving deeper into the foyer to give way to the drunk students walking down the stairs. “We should stop snooping around like this. There’s a reason why he wants to keep his girlfriend a secret in the first place.” 

You gave her a pointed look before continuing. “Such as from people like you.” 

“Come on, Y/N!” Gaeul exasperated, leaning in to give you a lethal combo of puppy eyes and pouty lips that you know so well. “Aren’t you at least a teensy weensy curious about who she is?” 

“No.” You deadpanned, using your index finger to poke at her forehead, successfully pushing her away from your personal space. “What I’m interested in is getting more alcohol so I won’t hear whatever nonsense you’re spouting next.” 

Gauel frowned. “You suck.” 

You snort, raising your red cup at her mockingly as you head towards the kitchen. It was a much less crowded area. You could spot slightly more sober students chatting away while mixing a concoction of mocktails to dare each other to chug. After pouring yourself a cup of soda to clear your head, you lean against the cabinet, deep in thought. 

The sound of music and revelry blast through the kitchen when the door opens, followed by its absence when the person steps into the room. 

You kept glancing at the new presence through your lashes. A sharp tanned jawline, slick back raven hair and clothes fitting him deliciously well that got you biting on your lower lip. When he looks around and catches your figure, his eyes glint in pleasure with a small smirk. 

“Hey.” He greeted flirtatiously once he was close. 

“I have a boyfriend.” You impassively respond against the cup's rim without sparing him a glance. 

His chuckle was deep, almost tugging at your heartstrings. “Must be a stupid boyfriend for leaving his beautiful girlfriend alone.” He leaned against the cabinet adjacent to you, placing his red cup on the marbled surface. 

“You have no idea,” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms around your chest. “He hasn’t taken me out on dates for weeks. Too preoccupied with the other love of his life.”

You baited back, accentuating the last few words to insinuate one particular sport he played. The grip on your cup tightens when he pushes himself off, moving close to tower over your height. 

“Then what does he have to do to make it up to you?” He whispered curiously, peering down and boring his dark eyes with yours until you couldn’t break the trance he had on you. 

When he places both hands on the surface behind you, caging you in only his addicting scent and his face so close that it becomes hard to breathe, you become overly conscious that the students in the room would notice the both of you.  

The proximity of the sight would paint the whole picture perfectly.

“D-Don’t…..” You warned meekly, but your mouth went numb when he leaned so close that if he moved even an inch more, your lips would collide and erupt into flames from the dormant amber. The alcohol in your veins told you to kiss him, but your head was actively fighting to prevent that. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Does he have to be on his knees?” Your eyes followed how he sensually wet his lower lip with his tongue. Your heart was beating against your ribcage at the sight, biting the inside of your cheeks.

He tilted his head to the side, his breath fanning the high points of your cheeks. “Looking up at you while his mouth works between those trembling legs?” 

Shit, shit, shit— 

“Jay, not here." You place a palm against his chest to retaliate, finding the strength to lower your face to the ground. "Please.” You added with a shaky voice, swallowing down the lump of saliva with your eyes closed. 

There was a slight stillness and tension in the air before you heard the creaking noise of the cabinet above you.

“Relax, Y/N.” He reassures you softly. The weight of his proximity dissipates, and you finally breathe a breath of relief. He moves away to stand in front of you with a bottle of alcohol. 

“Just getting something above you.” He winks and breaks into a grin when you give him an annoyed frown.

Of course, he’ll use every opportunity to tease the shit out of you, but the beating of your heart never ceases, even after his little farce riles you up. You were glad that the dimmed lights hid the flush on your cheeks. 

“Asshole.” You muttered spitefully behind a hand.

He poured the liquid into his cup before filling up yours as well. He chose to ignore you cursing at him with a little smile. 

“If you ever find yourself getting bored while waiting for your boyfriend tonight,” He says, slowly backing away while still facing you. “You’ll know where to find me.” He gave you a quick once over before trudging away into the party. 

With him no longer here, you feel the emptiness you felt for the last two weeks without him sinking in. 

You turned to the left and saw the group of students still preoccupied with their recreational stuff, the amount of alcohol making them more delirious and loud. Good, you thought before grabbing the drink to go and search for your friend— waiting for the time to pass until the whole party was intoxicated. 

When the humidity of the place starts to smell like liquor and the students begin to lose themselves in the music in the dead of night, you carefully make your way up to the second floor. You’ve sneaked here many times before, knowing where each door leads. 

You’ve made sure to control how much you drank but can’t help feeling tipsy with Gaeul constantly dragging you for shots of vodka. Opening the door to a familiar bedroom makes you feel more agitated and nervous. 

Jay’s taste in decoration was the definition of suave; the room was polished and slick, much like its owner. You remember the first time he tangled you in his bed sheets or when you spent hours making out on his black leather sofa— the one he was sitting on right now.

“I take it that your boyfriend ditched you?” Jay calls out. 

He sat casually spread on the seat with his jacket thrown over the channel back. The loose t-shirt he wore hung over his board body, and the same red cup in the kitchen was placed on the coffee table. Classic Jay— he was waiting for you to come to him. 

“You should really stop with the act.” You replied, climbing to sit on his lap and straddling your legs on either side. 

Jay’s face twists into content, welcoming you to him by circling his hands around your waist. “Makes me feel like I’m really cheating on you right now.” You pouted, letting your fingers trace his exposed neck to his visible collarbone.

His hands cup your face, bringing you down until your forehead touches. He smelled compulsively musky with a hint of pungent booze at the end. 

“Sorry, love.” He whispered sweetly, but his eyes were filled with dark flickers. “I can’t help it when you look so damn cute when you’re flustered.” You wrap your hands around his neck. 

“Fucking tease.” You whispered back. He smiled effortlessly. 

“A tease only for you.” 

You could feel the serotonin kicking the moment he captured your lips. He felt slightly warm, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Your mouth dances with him in unison; the initial passion turns into obsession when the both of you realize how much you missed the taste of each other’s lips. 

His hand creeps up past your shirt, groping the sensitive skin of your sides. It made you moan softly in his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue into you. You dug deeper into his lap, fingers gripping the raven locks of his hair, feeling absolutely drunk in his arms. 

The wet sound of saliva echoed throughout the room— two mouths continued to bite, suck, nibble and pant against one another. Your hips moved on their own, slowly rocking your clothed core on his bulge. The tight confinement of your bra came loose, falling to the floor before feeling his fingers pinching your hardened nipples.  

It was getting hot, and you were breathless when he broke the wet kiss. He was staring at you with hooded eyes as he continued to grope your breast underneath your shirt. 

“I fucking miss you so much.” He confessed, moving to attack your neck with wonton kisses. You hold him tighter by the hair, pulling your head back to give him more space. “You’re always on my mind. Your smile, your voice, your body. You’re driving me crazy every second, my love.” 

You whimpered, feeling him growing harder as he professed his undying agony for the past two weeks. He moves down to place his hands on your ass, encouraging you to keep humping on his hard-on while he licks your lower jawline. 

“Miss you too, baby.” You press your lips close to his ears, purposely moaning lewdly for only him to hear. “I’m always thinking about you, while I’m eating, while I’m in class, while I’m in my—“ 

You paused. “—while I’m in my bed at night.” 

The sentence came out more sensually than you meant, causing Jay to pull away to look at you. He saw the bashfulness in your expression before he morphed into realization at the innuendo of your words. 

“Did you touch yourself?”

When you didn’t answer him, he took that as confirmation. He inhales a sharp breath, and you can feel his fingers digging into your bare ass underneath your skirt, causing you to gasp and look at him. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were swimming with desire yet curious at the new revelation. 

“Show me.”

It wasn’t a request but a demand— a demand you couldn't refuse when he looked at you like a starved man. So you move out of his lap, sitting on the coffee table while facing him, removing your shirt to let your boobs bounce out. 

Fondling your breasts, you let out a whiny moan when you roll your puffy nipples with your thumb, the way you always do while you masturbate to the thought of him. It didn’t help that your mounds were already sore to the touch at his ministrations a second ago. 

Jay was really enjoying the sight, removing his shirt while keeping his eyes on you. 

His body was carved like a Greek god— beautiful taunt muscles at every region with a sun-kissed glow; watching his biceps flex as he loosened his belt and pulled his pants down. 

“I know you touch yourself more than that.” He urged from his seat, palming himself through his briefs. “Show me how you play with that pretty pussy for me.” 

His voice was like a spell— coaxing you to remove your skirt and peel your soaked panties off. Placing your feet on the table’s surface, you spread your legs to expose every inch of your pussy for only his eyes to feast. You can’t help but whimper at how he was eye fucking your entirety. 

Pushing two fingers into your mouth, you coat your fingers with saliva before slipping them between your thighs. You were drenched— every slip of your fingers between your folds spilled more juices that puddled on the crack of your ass. 

“That’s it, fuckin’ beautiful.” His muttered praises only made you moan louder, peeking through heavy eyelids as you watched him jerk his big cock to the rhythm of your fingers while the other rested at the back of his head. 

You open your legs wider, pushing two fingers into your entrance, absolutely enamoured by the feeling of him watching you finger yourself that’s making your body burn into a pile of ashes. It was not easy on him either— watching you pleasure yourself got him lightheaded and head oozing with precum. 

“Is that how you fuck that pretty pussy with your fingers, hmm? Stretching that perfect hole wide like how I would with my cock?”

“Jongseong.” You crooned desperately, falling to rest your back on the table. Your thumb found its place on your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves until your hips were bucking the air, inwardly screaming at the blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck.” He cooed, wincing as he thumbed his sensitive head. “Look at you playing with your clit. So fucking sexy. That’s how you always feel, baby, so soft and sensitive on my fingers.” 

Jay’s filthy words spurred you on, plunging your fingers until they reached the spongy spot deep within, your back arching at the pleasure of the simple movement. But it wasn’t enough; the knot in your stomach would not come undone— the only thing that could quell your thirst was him. 

You craved his cock, needing it to split you open until you forgot your name.

“Jay, it's not enough.” You begged, sitting up with every strength you had. “I need you inside of me, please.” 

He sensed your hunger, your anguish— your desperation, and didn’t spare a second to open his arms to you. 

“Come here.”  

You immediately jump to straddle his lap, trembling hands holding onto his shoulders for leverage as you grip the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Jay hissed at your touch, hands found purchase on your sides to support your weight. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jay gently whispered, noticing how you impatiently tried to nudge the tip of his cock into your hole with frustration. “Slow down, love. I’m not going anywhere.” He cradles your cheek with both hands to pull you closer to his face, smiling softly once you look back at him. 

“Relax and don’t hurt yourself, okay? I can wait for you forever like this.” He pushed back your hair to mouth kisses just under your ear, causing your muscle to ease up at his touch, dissipating some of the eagerness that clouded your sanity. 

Taking a deep breath, you probe his tip to your hole and slowly sink his length with your eyes closed. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

The way he purred, those words caused you to claw at his shoulders, his girth burning your walls so deliciously that you can’t help but clench around it. He massage your ass, letting you bottom down until you sit on his lap. 

“Ah god, Jongseong, you feel so amazing.” You gritted out, moaning rapturously at how full you felt with his cock, feeling the size and length of it moulding your womb. 

“My good girl, taking my cock so perfectly.” He thrusts up, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers curled into his messy locks to steady yourself, bouncing back to the movement of his hips.

Fuck, the way his cock dragged against your velvet walls, pressing on the deepest spot that brought you solace repeatedly— you were practically melting in his arms. 

Jay’s groans vibrate against your neck, feeling you clench and unclench around his length erratically. You were throbbing endlessly until all he could fathom was your scent and your sweet moans that consumed him with the desire to fuck you senseless.  

“You’re mine.” He breathed out, lunging a hard thrust that got you screaming. He slaps your ass, digging his teeth at the base of your neck, loving how you clung to him like he was your deity. He rutted into you, cock never slipping out, not even an inch.

The sound of skin slapping overthrew the music coming from the party downstairs. 

He growled. “All fucking mine.”

“A-ah, I’m all yours.” You swallowed, pressing your lips against his ear, lapping at the outer shell with want. “My mind, my body, my pussy— I belong only to you.” 

You have awakened the carnal urge he had suppressed for so long, making him stir into a frenzy, bringing you up and slamming you down on his cock so that all you could do was succumb to your orgasm. 

You could feel the knot in your tummy come undone, bathing you in the familiar warmth you longed for. Jay kissed your lips deeply, grinding a few more times before he too came with a heavy grunt, filling you up raw with ropes of hot cum.

You were blinded with pleasure, your vision slowly giving out, and all you could feel was the force of each other’s release. 

At that moment, you prayed to whoever above to promise you that heaven would feel as good as this.  

Once the air starts to clear up and Jay finished riding you out of your orgasm, he pulls his cock out of your spent pussy, his release dripping down your inner thigh while you lay limp in his arm. You could hear the heavy panting from both sides; exhaustion finally computed in your mind. 

He started to make motions to move you into a more comfortable position to clean you up. Your heart swelled with butterflies, reminding yourself why you had fallen for him in the first place. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his. “Later,” You persuade softly, inevitably stopping him from moving. “I want you to hold me closely.” 

“Okay.” He sighed, staring deep into your eyes.

It was lethal to your heart— how you could see the entire galaxy shining in the specks of his gaze. He smooths your back with the palms of his hands, lovingly pecking at the corner of your mouth. 

Your bodies fit into the compact confinements of the sofa, legs stretched out to tangle with each other. The side of your face rested on his arms, hugging him close until your bare skin touched. His other arm was draped around your waist, softly tracing the skin at the bottom of your spine. 

You're not sure how long you were staring at each other before he opened his mouth to mutter something in the embrace.

“You’re beautiful.” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “You’re more beautiful.” 

He burst into a laugh, eyes forming breathtaking crescent shapes, the afterglow of sex making him glimmer like the sun. The laughter soon quiets down, the soft sound of the bass downstairs filling the room. 

He looks at you once more, but the frown on his face catches you off guard. 

“I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you.” He said. You recognize the guilt in his voice, pulling him closer to your body. “Just that the pressure from the coach and with all the other members being on edge with the final tournament…..”

You kiss his chest, feeling him sigh with relish at your lips on his skin. “It’s fine Jay, the last thing I want you to worry about is me. Focus on playing your best, and I’ll be there cheering once you win.”

He pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear, chuckling at your words of confidence.

“I promised to make it up to you.” His ardent oath caused you to snuggle into his chest, feeling him reciprocate your hug by placing his chin on the crown of your head. 

You mumbled close to his beating heart.

“Don't worry, I can wait for you forever like this.”

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[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 3 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: language, tense situations with dangerous vampires

wc: 5.1k

“We’ll be fine,” you tell Namjoon quietly. “Shake off the nerves. Let’s go be professionals.”

He looks at you like you’re a little crazy. Maybe you are. “No one’s ever done this,” he says a bit hollowly. “You know that, right?”

“Which part?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

He laughs under his breath and starts to move forward through the decorated doorway and into the empty, echoing throne room. You hurry to catch up, keeping pace with him.

“Any of it,” he mutters, and then lets his face fall into something blank enough to pass as professional.

The throne room is magnificent, the ceilings impossibly high and painted with beautiful scenes of forestry and rivers. The royal family seem to favor a jewel-tone blue, as you find it in the draperies, the lush carpet that leads to the steps, and the cushioning on the thrones at the top of those steps.

The King and Queen sit straight-backed, eyeing you as you step cautiously forward, but you’re watching the prince, seated just slightly behind the Queen, flanking her left. He sits slightly sideways in his seat, mouth turned down on each side. He eyes the ceiling, not you humans. He gives off an air of cold boredom. 

He does not seem like he is in distress, in particular need of saving. 

His dark hair falls near his eyes in delicate waves, and his body seems to be nearly all leg. He’s beautiful - the most gorgeous man you think you’ve ever seen, no wonder he isn’t human - and you try not to gawk, or worse, blush. Unlike his parents, his eyes look human today - whites present and surrounding deep, beautiful brown irises.

You imagine he’d look quite haunting if he let them go into the swirling, all-black that is natural for his kind.

You are so caught up in your mental cataloging of the prince of Infracticus that you miss the sharp look that his parents share as you draw close.

As you reach the foot of the stairs, you and Namjoon bow in tandem. You realize you should have prepped him for this - the manners, the social expectations - and you’re relieved that he seems to be able to hold his own.

“Thank you for the warm invitation,” you say upon rising, casting your words towards the King. “We’re at your service for as long as you need us.”

The King nods once, looking you over. 

“So you’re the curse-breaker,” he says. “Welcome to Infracticus. We’re thankful for your presence.”

“It’s our honor to serve you,” Namjoon says.

“We were told you’re good at what you do,” the Queen says, her voice cool and even, putting the image of still water in your mind. “As long as you are here for your task, we promise your protection and offer our hospitality. Whatever you need, simply ask.”

“That’s very generous of you,” you say, eyes on the ground. “I promise I’ll - we’ll - work hard.”

“Your utmost discretion is paramount,” the King says, sitting forward to look at you more closely. “I must reiterate that the prince’s state must be kept absolutely secret. While it will be close to impossible to keep your presence here a complete secret, I ask that you stay in your quarters unless your staff are escorting you.”

Your stomach twists. You weren’t planning to go gallivanting around the palace anyway - for your own safety. But being told to stay in, even if your rooms are spacious and beautiful, feels a bit like being held prisoner. 

“If, somehow, you are asked about your purpose here,” the Queen cuts in, “the official response is that you were invited here as ambassadors from the human world, and that our work is confidential.”

You sneak a glance at the prince again as you listen. He’s watching you and Namjoon a little more carefully, no longer slouched in his seat. Instead, he regards you both steadily.  

“We understand,” Namjoon says, and you nod automatically, bringing your gaze back to the Queen. 

“Is there anything you need to begin your work?” The Queen asks, directing the question to you. 

You shake your head, considering. “Not yet,” you say. “I’ll have a better idea what we’re up against after I spend some time speaking with the prince.” You incline your head towards him when you refer to him, so that it will feel less like he’s being talked about instead of talked to. 

“Very well,” the King says, waving a hand as if you’re dismissed. “Prince Taehyung will accompany you to your rooms, and you can begin your work.”

You turn to the prince, whose cold expression remains unreadable, and wait for him to move.

The prince rises obediently, and you watch him carefully as he unfolds himself from his throne and takes the steps at a clip. He moves fluidly and gracefully, brushing past you and pausing near the doorway, turning to see if you’re following. 

You shoot Namjoon a quick glance to check that he’s with you, and you both give the King and Queen a respectful goodbye. Prince Taehyung waits at the door, expression cool and impassive. Servants scuttle out of his way as he finally leads you away, down a corridor back towards your assigned chambers, flanked by Dansoo and Satuel. 

At first he leads you in silence, his heeled boots striking the stone floors a few paces ahead of you and Namjoon. Eventually, though, he looks at you both over his shoulder and says, “Thank you for coming, and for your discretion.” 

His voice is low, calling to mind water - as his mother’s did. But his doesn’t remind you of cool springs amid misty mountains. His calls to mind the ocean, roiling and unknowable, deep and icy cold. 

“It’s our honor,” you repeat. Then, a bit more genuinely, you add, “I hope I can help you.”

Prince Taehyung continues in tight silence for another moment, and then says, “So do I.”

When the group reaches your quarters, the two guards take their place on either side of the doors. Prince Taehyung puts his hand on the door’s handle and pauses, looking back as if to ask for permission. You almost laugh. It’s his home.

At your quick nod, he pulls the doors open and leads you into the main room with the fireplace. He stands near the couches, casting his gaze around as if he’s impressed with the guest rooms. 

“Very well,” he says briskly. “Should I introduce myself more properly? I suppose I should.” He gives you each a sharp bow and then sticks out his hand to shake. “I am Taehyung of Rune, Prince of Infracticus.”

You hesitate, your right hand still bandaged messily with a strip of an old band’s t-shirt. He follows your gaze.

“Ah,” he says, realizing why you’ve frozen. “May I?”

Uncertain, you lift your bandaged hand. He reaches forward and unties the sloppy knot, letting the fabric fall to the ground. He holds out one hand expectantly, palm up.

You eye the gash and place your hand in Taehyung’s outstretched one. His skin is cool to the touch - not cold, but lacking any warmth.

He rubs his thumb over the cut, and it tingles so intensely that you’re tempted to wipe your hands on your pants, to try to rub away the sensation. But when he pulls his hands away you can see that the skin has stitched itself back together, your palm as markless as it had been when you awoke that morning. 

“Yours too, I assume?” Taehyung asks, and you realize he’s offering to heal Namjoon as well.

“I thought - only Cleaves could heal?” you stutter, your eyes on your healed palm. The tingling fades, leaving no proof that the cut ever existed.

Taehyung sends you a twisted almost-smile from where he stands with Namjoon’s beefy hand in his own slender ones. “When you have a bloodline as long as mine,” he explains, “you always end up a bit of a mix.”

When he’s done, Namjoon staring in quiet awe at his healed palm, the prince looks at you again. “Well?” he says, and it takes you a moment to remember that he’s here so you can work on unraveling his curse. “Should we get started?”

“Right,” you say, rubbing your hands together awkwardly. “I have some questions to ask you about the curse. Would you be more comfortable here, or in the study?”

“I believe we could begin here,” he muses, gesturing at the couches. Namjoon slowly settles in a chair the color of deep-forest foliage, somewhere between green and black. The prince heads to a wingback chair, crossing one ankle over his knee and leaning back, peering at you through tight eyes.

Guarded, you think. That’s how he looks. Wary, at best. Maybe even afraid - which strikes you as almost funny, since he’s not the bottom of the food chain in this room. 

Shaking yourself free of this thought, you duck into the little office they’ve fashioned for you and grab a pen and a pad of paper, knowing you’ll want to take notes as you talk.

“Okay,” you say, finally getting seated on the couch opposite the prince and taking a steadying breath. You cast a look at both men, who stare at you expectantly. “Let’s start with this - pretend I know nothing about the situation - really, it’s practically true. Tell me everything that happened. No detail is too insignificant, I can’t stress that enough. Start at the beginning.”

The prince twists his mouth to the side, considering this. 

“Everything that happened,” he repeats thoughtfully. His deep voice and the hint of accent cast the words as a little musical. “I woke up in a strange part of the palace with no memory of the night before, and then I was informed that I’d left Infracticus and murdered two innocent people. Is that what you need to know?”

He speaks evenly, but you sense fire simmering behind his words.

“What happened the night before?” you ask, fighting to stay calm, despite the very real danger of being tucked away with an angry Infracti.

He rotely recounts an uneventful night - dinner with his family, some time spent with his closest friend, a walk through the palace’s arboretum, a long bath in his own quarters. 

“How did you feel when you woke up?” you ask next, your eyes on your notepad. 

“How did I feel?” he echoes, a bit of a bite to it. His tone gets your attention and you look up at him. His brows are furrowed, his dark eyes - the whites showing, as they have been the whole time you’ve been here - swimming with fury. Across the room, Namjoon has leaned forward, alarmed. “How do you think I felt, hearing -”

You will yourself to stay steady. “Physically,” you clarify. “When you woke up - did you experience pain? Confusion?”

He’s experiencing confusion now - looking at you blankly, as if he doesn’t even understand the question. But at least the anger has melted away, replaced with bafflement. 

“When someone places a curse,” you explain slowly, putting your pen down and looking at him carefully, “what they are doing is weaving many threads of intention. If you experienced pain, that is one thread. If you were confused, that’s another. Your lack of memory is certainly one. Your loss of control, loss of sense of self - those would be individually added with intention as well. Every piece of it matters. To completely, successfully undo it, I need to identify every thread and properly counter it. These details - the things I’m asking you - they may inform me of a thread, a piece of intention from the original curse.”

Making sure he’s looking at you, you say it very seriously, urging him to understand. “If I miss even one thread, or counter one thread incorrectly, the counter-curse will not work.”

You wait, letting this sink in.

Finally, he inclines his head. “I understand. I apologize - this has been… difficult for me.”

“I can only imagine,” you say gently. “Try to remember that I’m here to fix it. Or… at least to try.”

He presses his lips together, eyes on the floor. You exchange another uneasy look with Namjoon, who shifts his weight slightly but doesn’t speak. The prince wets his lips quickly and pulls in a bracing breath and then begins to speak.

“My night before was very normal,” he repeats. “I felt normal. The things I did were within my normal routine. When I… woke up? Came back to myself? I was confused, yes, but I think that was because I couldn’t remember how I got there. My thinking was not confused, or muddled.”

You nod, feeling a rush of relief at his understanding, at his willingness to cooperate. You write this down, then wait for him to continue.

“I did have pain,” he recalls thoughtfully. “I am not sure if you are aware, but Infracti don’t feel pain easily, or often. My muscles ached - my back, my arms. My legs felt very heavy. I had never experienced any of those sensations before.” 

There’s a bit of pout to his voice - if he weren’t so intimidating, it might be cute. 

“And my head,” he continues with a frown. “I had pain inside my head. Across the front.” He rubs a hand across his brow to show you the spot. 

Cute. 

You write it down, scolding yourself for your lack of professionalism. 

“What about the rest of that day?” you ask, when you’re done writing. “How long did the pain last? How did you feel throughout the day?”

“Better and better as time went on,” he allows. “Though I was… very upset. So I did feel… unlike myself, a bit… like my emotions were a storm.” 

You nod, drawing a little sideways arrow and jotting it down. “When would you say the pain completely faded?”

“By early afternoon?” the prince guesses, gaze floating to the ceiling as he tries to remember. “After I’d had a midday meal in my room. My father had asked me to stay in my wing until… until we’d found out an answer.”

“That was probably wise,” Namjoon says quietly.

“We didn’t know if it would happen again,” the prince explains, a bit sadly. “I asked for extra security outside my chambers that night.”

“And what happened?” 

Prince Taehyung doesn’t answer. He presses his lips together again, flexes his fingers against his thigh. He radiates shame, so thickly it’s like molasses in the air. 

“Maiesti,” you prod. He raises his eyes from the floor to meet yours at your use of his own language, and you hold his gaze steadily. “I am not here to judge you or your actions,” you assure him. “Only to try and make you well again.”

He nods, lowering his gaze again, no less shamed despite your reassurance. “I watched the clock so I would know exactly what time it was when I lost myself,” he says, voice suddenly tiny. You lean closer to hear better, and in your periphery you see Namjoon do the same. “It was midnight. I came back to myself sometime before six o’clock the next morning, in my room, which was… destroyed.”

You’re writing fast, trying to catch every detail. “Destroyed?” you echo.

“Tables overturned, bedding shredded,” he lists robotically, ticking the list on his fingers. “Scratches in the wood of the door.” Pain laces his voice as he adds, “It was like I turned into an animal for the night. I attacked the men stationed at my door. They reported to my father that it took six of them to get me back inside, and then they barred the door. I must have spent the whole time trying to get through.”

He glances down at his hands and you follow his gaze. His nails are wrecked, fingertips still sporting scrapes and cuts, though they’ve clearly been cleaned.

It occurs to you that he could heal himself if he wanted to.

“How did you feel - physically - when you woke up?” You do your best to stay clinical despite the quickening of your pulse.

“The same as the day before - the same pains. The Elders came and told me that… they believed this is the work of a curse. I think you were contacted immediately.”

You ask about the night before this, the final night before you’d arrived, and he describes the same series of events - he’d asked to go to a more unused set of rooms shortly before midnight so that he wouldn’t ruin his own things. He’d woken at dawn sore, exhausted, frustrated - but safely contained.

You lapse into silence, reading back some of what you’d written down, eyes roving for clues and patterns, a place to start.

“I think I need to see you while the curse is controlling you,” you muse, not necessarily meaning to say it aloud.

“Absolutely not,” Prince Taehyung snaps, sitting upright. The gloom and shame vanish from him like a dropped blanket, replaced by intensity and natural authority. “Under no circumstances are either of you to come anywhere near me during the hours that I’ve lost - that I’m not myself. I forbid it.”

You glance away, catching Namjoon’s stricken gaze, and settle on watching your feet scuff gently at the stone floor. 

“I’m not trying to make a spectacle of you,” you defend yourself. “I’d like to take notes on your appearance and actions when the curse is active. There may be valuable -”

“I don’t think you understand,” the prince says, rising fluidly and narrowing his eyes at you. “It took six Infracti to contain me. Do you have the strength of six Infracti?” He cocks his head at this rhetorical question. “If you are near me between midnight and dawn, you will die. There is no other possible outcome. I forbid it.”

You stare at each other, at an impasse. Finally, you look down at your notepad, mind whirring as you try to think of a way around this rule. Prince Taehyung huffs in frustration and then eyes the exit. 

“I have duties to attend to,” he says flatly. “Please remember that if asked, your reason for being in Infracticus is simply that the King invited you, as academics in the magical field.”

You feel a jolt of queasiness. You hope no one asks - you hope no one speaks to you at all, that no one even notices you there. 

“Understood,” Namjoon says, speaking for you both. 

Prince Taehyung nods, eyeing the door, then speaks without looking at you. “Please determine our next steps regarding the curse and communicate them to your staff. They’ll inform me.” With this, he slips into the corridor, leaving you in silence. 

You turn to Namjoon plaintively. “Was this a mistake?” you ask, open and vulnerable, feeling a little wild with trepidation. “Should we not have come? Can we do this?”

He shakes his head. “A little late for that now.”

You sink back against the couch, closing your eyes, feeling drained despite it still being late morning. You feel like you’ve lived three days in just several hours. 

“I know,” you concede. 

“Let’s just try to do the job as quickly as possible,” he says evenly, lifting his hand like he wants to place it reassuringly on you, then hesitates and returns it to his own lap. “Do you have any thoughts based on this first interview?”

You nod, scanning your notepad again. “It’s interesting,” you murmur, the academic in you coming alive. “It seems to be a curse of lacking, of deprivation. He is not instilled with monstrous behavior - rather, his control and humanity are stripped away or suppressed until only the monster remains.”

“That could be four or five segments of the curse on their own,” Namjoon agrees thoughtfully, his fist pressed against his jaw as he thinks. “To remove one’s sense of self, to remove the Id entirely and leave him only Ego, to remove the facets of control, of mercy, of compassion - each of those exists alone.”

You sigh. “Someone knew what they were doing,” you grumble. “No ordinary person - or Infracti - could just come up with this on the fly.”

“It does seem to solidify their theory that this was an attack,” Namjoon agrees. “Though there are methods out there to simplify the process, if you know what you’re doing. Someone with less skill could complete the curse, if they’d done their research first.”

You look at him, hyper-focused. “Explain,” you say simply.

“We’re looking at each thread of intention that we see here and identifying each one individually,” he says. “And we’re seeing so many specific threads that it seems to us that the caster must have great skill to weave so many and do it correctly.”

“Right…” you say slowly, following so far. 

“Some curses are cast with the use of supplemental magic,” he explains. Of course you knew this, but it’s a different school of thought than your normal work. “The supplemental magic does the weaving for you - if your wide-scale intention is clear, the supplemental magic sort of… collects the threads you need and brings them to you ready to go.”

You feel yourself frowning, thinking hard. “Like elemental magic? That kind of supplemental magic?”

“Sure,” he says, nodding. “But other forces as well - life magic and death magic, for example.”

This hits you heavily, and you let out a puff of breath. “Death magic?” you repeat, since this is the piece that lodged itself in your skull. “What would that even mean for this case?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I’m not sure yet,” he admits. “But I think it’s something we should continue to consider.”

–

Lunch is served to you not much later in that same room, and after eating you and Namjoon begin pouring through the few magical tomes you’d brought from the university, making note of any relevant details you find.

It’s late afternoon when Namjoon finally leans back from the table, slapping one large palm across the papers where he’d been listing possible threads of intention and mapping ways to counter them. 

You’d both been sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the low table, which is now littered with open books and scattered papers.

“I need a break,” he announces, pushing himself up and heading for the couch. He flops down, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I just wrote the same thing three times. My eyes are crossing.”

You set down your pen and stretch. A break sounds nice, actually. You rise and pace the room a bit, just to walk and get blood flowing in your legs again. You pass by the fireplace, feeling the heat lick at the side of your face until you’re past it, then stopping at the wall that serves as a water feature. You watch it peacefully for a second. 

“You know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could go for some tea. You want some?”

Namjoon answers you with a light snore. You stare at him in disbelief for a minute - how do people just fall asleep like that?! You absolutely cannot relate. 

You pace the room twice more, but you’re feeling more antsy and caged in by the minute. After one more lap, you pause by the doors. You’ve been told multiple times today that you can ask for anything you need, but you feel nervous actually doing so. 

Still… might as well try it on a small request first, right? 

Sighing, you tug the door open. Satuel turns fluidly to face you, expectant.

“Could…” you venture. “Could we get some tea, maybe?”

She nods curtly, black hair swishing with the motion. “I’ll send for it right away,” she tells you. “Please wait inside.”

“Oh,” you say, rocking back on your heels. “I was actually… I was wondering if I could go with you to get it? I feel the need to walk a little.”

She exchanges a tight look with Dansoo, a frown forming on each of their faces. 

“We can’t allow that,” he answers for her gruffly. “Our orders are to get you what you need. Your orders are to stay out of sight.”

I don’t live here, you think, scowling. I don’t take orders from the royal family.

But you are here as a hired professional, and they’re your client, in a way. And the ones offering you room and board, food, and protection. 

You sigh. “Okay,” you say. “I understand.”

Back in your rooms, you flop onto the couch that isn’t occupied by Namjoon’s sleeping form. His arm is still over his eyes, and he snores steadily, more loudly now.

Nobody to even talk to, you think crankily. You lean back against the couch, fingers tapping impatiently against the arm of the couch. 

You’re in Infracticus, in the palace, and you’re trapped in your room. It strikes you as deeply unfair, though you understand the logic, the reasons. Still. You’d give anything to explore a little, to find a little nook to hide in and just watch for a while. The anthropologist in you is dying to observe - there’s nothing you want more than to wander the palace and take it all in. It’s like being told there’s really life on Mars, getting transported there, and then being told you don’t get to see any of it because you have to stay in the spaceship.

You’re suddenly so antsy you think you might crawl out of your skin.

You flop your head to the side in irritation, eyeing the guarded doors. Of course they don’t want to let you wander around the palace - it’s too dangerous. You’re too delicate, too human. 

You sit up straight, eyes still on the door.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you’re thinking too much like a human.

You barely use magic in your everyday life; in the human world, it just isn’t necessary. But you’re able, perfectly capable of borrowing. 

You look over at Namjoon, who simply snorts in his sleep and rolls to face the back of the couch. He certainly won’t be stopping you. 

When the knock comes, you’ve made up your mind. You open the door with a grateful smile, following the member of kitchen staff as he wheels in a little cart carrying a tea tray. As he busies himself moving the tray from the cart to the small table meant for your meals, you begin the process of borrowing.

You breathe deeply, focusing on what your senses tell you about the space around you - the sounds of the crackling fire, the wall of moving water, the clink of china as the staff member moves the teapot; the smell of the tea, the perfume you’d dabbed on after showing, the room’s natural smells - earthy and sharp.

Your fingertips start to tingle just slightly, a pleasant sensation almost like sunlight moving across a table to finally fall across your skin. You breathe deeper, inviting it in, pulling the magic that exists wild in the universe and reining it in for just a moment, taming it for the few minutes that it can be tamed. 

You have two threads of intention for the magic, and you weave them together a bit sloppily. You’re more practiced at pulling threads apart, but you can manage this with some concentration. 

One thread: don’t see me. The second: what’s that, over there? 

When the kitchen staff wheels the tea cart back into the hallway, you follow tight on his heels. The borrowed magic does as you ask and convinces the staff pushing the cart that there is no one behind him. It convinces Dansoo and Satuel that they see nothing unusual near the cart, but that they might see a suspicious shadow down the other side of the hallway. 

As you get farther and farther away, sticking close to the tea cart, you watch as they peer - narrow-eyed and alert - in the opposite direction. 

As soon as you turn a corner, you slow your pace, letting the Infracti pushing the empty tea cart get further and further away. Once he’s out of sight, you exhale, loosening and then releasing the reins on the magic you’d taken. You breathe freely, no longer having to focus on gripping those reins.

You follow the corridor, trying to always stick to the right, so that you can find your way back later. 

You don’t really have a goal, anything specific you want to see. Nor do you really have a plan, besides poke around, quell your curiosity, stretch your legs, and don’t get killed. But the palace is huge and the royal family is small; you figure you can manage to wander undetected as long as you turn back if you see anyone up ahead. 

You’re not sure how long you wander down empty corridors, passing underneath paintings and maps, some of which you stop and examine. After some time, you stop passing closed doors and start passing open rooms, most of which seem outfitted for taking visitors: couches and tables, bookshelves laden with both books and decorative trinkets. 

Something in one room catches your eye and you pause in the doorway, peeking in. A piano sits in the corner, shiny and still. You wonder if anyone who lives here actually uses it, or if musicians are hired when entertainment is needed.

It isn’t much further down the same corridor as the piano room that you come to the top of a wide, stone staircase. You pause, listening. The sound of voices and laughter floats up to you, and you hurry to tuck yourself behind a statue of an amarisca, the magical creature that had pulled your carriage the night before. 

From your spot, pressed tightly against the carved stone, you can just barely see the room below. You can see the hems of skirts and shiny dress shoes passing by - all heading into the palace. They must be important families, invited to take supper with the royal family. Perhaps they are even members of the Ruins themselves - the King and Queen’s siblings, perhaps, or even their cousins. Maybe they’re invited here to shmooze before making decisions regarding business or state. Maybe the royal family simply have friends, people whose company they like to keep. 

You’re mulling this over when a voice startles you so badly that you leap, whirling around, grateful for the heavy statue - without it, you very well may have toppled down the stairs.

“What have we here?” the low voice asks, “A human?”

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thank you so much for reading!!!! finally - events are happening!!! lol

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts supernatural au #bts royal au #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung angst #supernatural au #royal au #s2l #magic au #fic: of ruin

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Of Traitors and Oathbreakers

Summary: A Black in Greens territory is never a good thing, especially if that means falling into the hands of Prince Aemond

Notes: Aemond and reader are childhood friends turned enemies (with benefits). Had to write something for my favorite war criminal. The reader is the child of the blacksmith of the Red Keep (bc why make Targaryen!readers when they can be ~different~)

Hobroti jās – Fuck off

Nyke pendagon avy jorrāelan – I think I love you

Warnings: rough/hate sex, dub-con (power imbalance), biting, scratching choking etc, mentions of starvation, war, imprisonment

Taglist: @levithestripper (hmu to be added!)

Ending 1 / Ending 2 | Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You didn’t remember how you got here. In fact, you didn’t even remember where you had been wanting to go, or who had been with you.

All you knew was that you were stuck in a cold cell, water dripping from the ceiling between short pauses of silence and driving you close to madness. When you looked out of the small crack in the wall of your cell, you’d seen molten towers you only recognized from childhood tales.

Harrenhal.

Currently territory of the Greens, and you were a Black. The name Targaryen could neither protect nor endanger you here, and for that you were grateful, but for everything else…

They didn’t let you out, whoever your jailers were. If your standing allowed it, you would have thrown the bread they gave you back into their faces and called them cowards.

But your mother had taught you to be resourceful, and your father had never let you leave scraps on your plate.

The only way for you to gauge how much time had passed was from the crack in the wall, watching the sun rise and set, but even like that you lost count after a while. You would’ve gone insane from the cold in your bones or the slow drips from the ceiling, or maybe even the loneliness, if it hadn’t been for the expression of wrath you had seen on the face of your Queen.

Your Queen. Rhaenyra. And yet, she would not risk her life, or that of any of her dragonriders to save you. You knew that when you kneeled for her in Dragonstone, and you had remembered it ever since. Yet you couldn’t help but wish that the situation was different.

Dying like this wasn’t what you wanted. It was everything you despised – the cold, the loneliness, the harsh walls around you. Worst of all was the darkness though.

You’d grown up in your father’s workshop, surrounded by fire as the Targaryens were with their dragons. Light and heat was your childhood, your comfort, and though learning the craft had gone to your brothers, you hadn’t let that keep you from picking up every weapon your father had crafted.

A gift that had cursed you later in life, bringing you into this cell.

The first time they opened the cell door completely could’ve been days or decades after your initial imprisonment. You didn’t demand answers, didn’t fight them yet, letting them drag you out and through empty hallways.

Once, you caught the smell of soot and ash, wondering whether it was from a smithy or a dragon. Were they taking you to your execution?

You doubted it. No one but the Targaryens were executed by the Targaryens themselves.

Instead, they brought you to the tubs that were in the cellars of Harrenhal. The water was hot, steam rising up from the water of the pools, and you could swear that there had never been a lovelier sight.

The guards did not bother turning their backs, so you turned yours. You had no weapon to defend yourself, and you weren’t ready to give all of your dignity just yet. Quickly, you sank into the steaming water, beginning to scrub the smell of dirt, blood and piss from your skin.

Death clung to your skin like a scared child to her mother. You hated it.

The cell had given you more than enough time to remember, but it seemed that you could not. All you knew was that you had been sent to find the host of the Northmen, making your way through the Riverlands.

Somewhere between Dragonstone and Harrenhal, someone had killed your crew and taken you prisoner, leaving you to wake up with their blood on your hands, literally.

Your bath was cut short by a young woman shooing the guards out, before helping you out of it. She was the first one to show you a semblance of respect, handing you clean clothes and a cloth to dry yourself, but she wasn’t willing to talk to you.

Perhaps they were all mute here, terrified into silence by their Lord, the Lord Confessor of the Greens. Perhaps it was yet another way to torture you.

She was somewhat gentle when she helped you lace your dress, before she left you to your own devices again. It was strange to be clean again after such a long time. The dance had left you permanently disheveled in some way.

Even before, Daemon had been drilling you in the yard, making impossible demands at you. You were the only one who made it through his snide remarks that brought grown men to tears and desperation. You would have never admitted the rewarding smirk he gave you after a long sparring session reminded you of a Green.

The woman had you follow her into a small chamber, only equipped with a small cot and a chamberpot. It was barbaric, but infinitely more than the cell you’d been forced to call home.

Here, where you were all alone, you could take in the changes of your body for the first time. Wearing a dress made the loss of weight noticeable. You’d exchanged a part of your femininity for the harshness of battle a long time ago, it was the price female fighters paid in Westeros.

The time in the cells had made the rest of that softness fall off your bones, and all that was left was sinew and muscles. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you hadn’t had your moon’s blood since the beginning of the war, and a truly delicious meal since even longer.

Luxury was a faraway dream, a whisper of the days in the Red Keep, where the worst punishment had been your mother chasing you through the stables to give you an earful about sparring with princes and forgoing your chores in favor of riding. Where your friends had comforted you after your brother became collateral in a fire in just this castle. Where you’d witnessed Vaemond’s bluntness be his death, and where Daemon spotted your talent as you trained in the yard.

Daemon had taken you and your father from the Red Keep, under the pretense of needing a smith and the truth of wanting a warrior that would always be underestimated. A girl who could slip through the cracks in the expectations of men and then slit their throats.

That was what you were to him. And for a while, you hadn’t noticed that he’d taken your childhood, for he had raised you to glory and given you a taste of battle. But where battle was, war followed, and it quickly reared its ugly head.

A knock ripped you from the myriad of thoughts in your mind. Who would knock at your door? You were a prisoner. If anything, you should be the one knocking, begging for their freedom.

You didn’t answer, and they paused for so long you thought they actually wanted a reply from you. But then, the door swung open.

“She told me you would be here.” He said.

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aemond replied. He stared at you silently, taking in the tightness of the gown, the slim shape your body had never had before. “Hmm.”

And then, he left, leaving alone again.

Aemond. What was Aemond doing here? He was Aegon’s brother, wasn’t this below him? Shouldn’t he be commanding great hosts, slaying his enemies from above?

He returned with food. A steaming bowl of stew, the smell of which made your stomach growl audibly, and a tankard of ale. It was making you forget that he was your enemy.

“It’s not poisoned.” He said.

“You’ve had enough opportunity to execute me.” You shrugged, hungrily digging into the meal. Aemond only hummed, a habit familiar to you.

He did it the few times you beat him in a spar, trying to assess what went wrong. When he heard you complain about the stench around the smith, only for the noble lord who pissed onto the walls of your home to disappear from court a day later. When Aegon taunted you for being a girl that would never amount to anything, lowborn and worth nothing, only to receive his brother’s punches seconds later.

“I’ve missed you.” He said quietly. You supposed that that was the way Aemond was: quiet in everything. Protecting, fighting, respecting. You wondered if that applied to-

No. Just because he was practically the first man you’d seen since your confinement did not mean you had to fall at his feet. He’d been your friend, and now he was your enemy. Both weren’t what people should pursue.

“You killed Prince Lucerys.” You replied.

“Just as much as his mother did.” Aemond snarled, but he didn’t sound so sure.

“She is the queen. You are responsible.”

“She has put Helaena into agony! Do you know what the war does to her? Days, spent in tears, fearing her own dreams and what may come! Helaena knows what will happen to her, and it is too atrocious for her to speak of, even to mother!”

It felt like a blow to the stomach. Helaena was strange to the ladies of the court, but she was always kind to you. There was an unspoken agreement between you and Aemond as children, that when you played hide and seek in the Godswood with Jace and found Helaena playing with the bugs in the bushes, you’d leave her alone.

“The mother that started all of this.”

“I didn’t know war made you into a frigid bitch.” Aemond spat.

“No, traitors do.” You said, throwing the insult back. His hand shot at your neck, and you wondered if he would kill you.

Days past flashed through your mind, afternoons spent swimming in Blackwater Bay and hiding from septas, mothers and knights. Sneaking Aemond into the city to buy him food from the street vendors in Flea Bottom. Teasing him for his royal stomach as he felt queasy afterwards, assuring him that you weren’t afraid when he returned from Dragonstone, a patch covering his eye. The awkward kiss you shared as teens, neither of you wanting to be unprepared for your great love you were so sure was to come.

His hand was still there, cold to the touch. Jaw set and fury blazing in his remaining eye.

“I lost control of Vhagar.” He confessed. A whisper so hushed it almost carried away into silence. “And it was me who killed your men and took you to Harrenhal.”

“They were good men. They had families, and you killed them.”

“This is war. You’re their bloody commander!” Aemond snorted.

“You could’ve killed them when they made it to battle, to let them die with honor.”

“They wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

“You don’t know that.” You spat.

“No, but you do. Who made you into a commander? You could barely put a scratch on Aegon when you left for Dragonstone.”

“Daemon did. And I’ve been better than Aegon a long time. I just happened to be lowborn.”

“Think you can beat me?” Aemond laughed, cold and arrogant.

“Why don’t we take this to the yard and find out? It would be a pleasure to kill you.”

“Vhagar would devour you, if you managed.”

“As she did with Luke?”

Just for a moment, Aemond’s façade crumbled, and he grew pale, before he regained his composure, but you already regretted your words.

“Did you eat your heart when you grew hungry in your cell? Or was that Daemon too?”

“And when did you grow into the arrogant prick your brother and grandfather envisioned you to be?” you spat, trying to even your tone.

You felt the frustration and anger of the last few months becoming a knot in your stomach already and watching your childhood friend throw insults at you hurt more than any blade could have.

“Cunt.” He replied, his anger evident in his tone as well.

“Traitor.”

“Bitch.”

“Kinslayer.” You said, letting go of all reservations.

“You’re still a dumb little girl.” He spat. Somehow, this was worse than anything else. Aegon had always called you that, and after one particularly bad day, Aemond had come to apologize for his brother, promising to never say that to you.

The tears spilled quicker than you could stop them, but even through the blurry vision they created, you slapped Aemond as hard as you could.

You wiped your eyes just in time to see his expression, mouth hanging open as his hand touched his cheek gingerly. Before he could regain his composure, you ran into him, throwing him onto the ground. You didn’t care as you heard his body hit the ground, only trying to hurt him somehow, to show him what he had done to you.

But Aemond was at full health, and a man that was taller than you by a bit while you hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. It didn’t take him long until he had flipped you around, holding your wrists down to the stone floor.

You struggled against him, trying to kick him or knee him in the balls, but Aemond was quicker than you, pinning your legs as well.

“Fuck you! You promised me!” you shouted at him, still trying to get your wrists out of his grip.

“You want me to apologize?”

“Yes, I do.” You snapped. “You broke a promise.”

“Hobroti jās.” He replied.

“Your Valyrian bullshit doesn’t scare me.” You laughed, but you were lying. It did. He could be threatening to kill you for all you knew, and you would be none the wiser.

“Is that so, my love?” he taunted.

“Don’t call me that.” You replied.

“Why? Have a lover waiting for you at Dragonstone? Prince Daemon himself perhaps?”

“I don’t. And the King consort would not dishonor his queen like that.”

“I suppose you’re not much to look at anyway. Especially not after a stay in the cells.” Aemond cruelly spat.

Your snarl fell from your face, your mask cracking quicker than you wanted it to. Not being as desirable and pretty as the ladies at court had hurt for as long as you could remember, but it was worse coming from Aemond somehow.

“Never took you for the vain type.” Aemond continued relentlessly, driving the knife in deeper.

“As if you’re a looker.” You replied, trying to push the tears he had cried over his face for years into the background. You knew it was mean, your choice of words especially, but he was just as horrible. Yet, when you said those words, Aemond recoiled from you for a moment, giving you the opportunity to free yourself from his grasp.

You crawled backwards, trying to create space between the two of you, but Aemond grabbed your ankle, pulling you back towards him. You crashed against him, causing him to let go of you to catch himself.

Trying to take advantage of the moment, you pushed him down by the shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring at you.

“Nyke pendagon avy jorrāelan.” He said. His eye was wide, staring at you with anger and… was that awe?

“Stop with the Valyrian!” you said, punching against his chest in a futile attempt to regain control.

He smirked at you, satisfied that he was getting a rise out of you like this, and you hated him for it. You’d spent a lot of your time around Daemon, for fuck’s sake! This shouldn’t be having any kind of effect on you!

You should get up now. You could get up, your brain was screaming at you, but instead, you stayed where you were, your hands on his shoulders in a futile attempt to subdue a Targaryen.

You stayed where you were when Aemond leaned forward, until your faces were only centimeters apart.

“Go on.” he whispered. You weren’t sure what he wanted, only that, in that moment, closing the space between you felt right.

It took you about two seconds to break the kiss, biting Aemond’s lip. “I hate you.” You tried, but you heard your own voice, and it didn’t sound too convinced.

“Are you?” he asked, wiping the blood from his lower lip with a small smile.

“We’re enemies! At war. We should be killing each other, not doing… this.”

“I took too long. I tried to convince myself that letting you rot would be a good punishment.” He said.

“It is! Look at what I’m doing.” You replied.

“You drew first blood. Hate to admit it.”

“You are insufferable.” You said.

“Am I? You haunt my dreams, taunting me with what I’ve done, and now that I let you speak to me, you make my nightmares reality! I want you dead, and yet I can’t help but want you all to myself.”

“Oathbreakers are the highest of traitors, and I swear, one day your head will be on a spike in the Red Keep, and I for one will be glad for it.” You replied, but it sounded weak against his words, refined with years of study you didn’t have.

“Then why did you kiss me?”

You hated that you didn’t have a witty response on your tongue as Aemond would have.

“Give in.” he said, and by the Gods, was there ever a sweeter temptation?

“So all the blood spilled under my command will be ridiculed?” you asked.

“I am a Targaryen, blood is in my nature. What better way to honor them?”

“Than kissing you? I can think of more than a few.” You laughed.

“I don’t give a shit about kisses.” Aemond replied. When he crossed the room, you didn’t dare back away. They called Aemond a One-Eyed devil, but you had taken off that eyepatch to care for what remained far too many times not to see him for what he was.

All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. His inability to look at his reflection, the pride and guilt of being Vhagar’s rider. The love for Helaena and hate for Aegon. His lust and distaste for the crown, the never-ending spiral of paradox that he was.

But you had been made violence and fire as well, to hide your weaknesses and make you lethal.

Before his lips could crash onto yours again, you felt the horrible realization of what had happened hit you. Your hands caught his chest, and Aemond froze.

“Daemon sent me.” You said. “He knew, didn’t he? He knew you’d spare me; he knew that you’d try to kill me, and that you’d fail because I am your friend.”

Slowly, you watched as Aemond walked to the door, grabbing something from behind a loose stone. You thought he’d hidden the dagger to kill you, until he flipped the handle towards you.

“Do it then.” He whispered. Your hand shaking, you tried to take the blade. You could end this war. You could kill the biggest asset the Greens had. He was practically offering himself to you.

Yet you couldn’t level the knife to his neck. Slowly, you let it sink again, hand trembling until the dagger fell. It clattered on the ground loudly, reminding you of your guilt. The traitor you had just become.

But Aemond was already on you, hands cupping your face as if you were fragile, thumbs stroking your cheeks like a lover to be cradled, soothing the unsurety that confused your thoughts.

“I still hate you.” You whispered between kisses, but Aemond barely bothered to smirk at you.

Instead, your hands betrayed your instincts, wandering to unlace his leather doublet, still shaking from the dagger.

“I hate you too.” He replied, ripping at your gown until it tore from shoulder to hip.

“That was the only one I had.” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another.”

“You’re such an ass.” You snapped. Aemond didn’t reply, his hands wandering to the curve of your hips instead.

The cot made an audibly creak as he lowered you down onto it, and you caught the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t like being heard?” you asked.

“Not particularly. Didn’t know you did.”

“I don’t. I just happen to be poor.”

“Who?” Aemond demanded.

“What?”

“Who fucked you?”

“You thought I was a virgin?” you taunted.

“Their names.” Aemond managed through gritted teeth.

“Let’s see. There was Alyn, the city watch guard. He was my first. Then your mother’s maid, and a barkeep in Flea Bottom. A former septon at Dragonstone, he was go-“

“Shut up.” Aemond commanded, his hand on your neck again. His other hand was tearing at your dress, and the fact that he was desperate to have you made you feel powerful.

A prince of the Seven Kingdoms, subdued by the daughter of a blacksmith.

What a song that would make. In truth, you were desperate to kiss him again, to bite his shoulder while he fucked you languishly and have him pull your hair while he took you from behind. To dig your nails into his shoulders and watch his eye grow wide as he took his pleasure from you.

“Take it off.” You said.

“What?”

“The eye patch.”

“No.” Aemond refused.

“I’ve seen you without a thousand times. I want you.” You said.

He let you remove it, and your smile grew as you saw the dark, glittering sapphire filling his empty socket.

“Do you like it?” he asked carefully, sounding like the young boy that had reluctantly shown you his angry, red wound the first time he returned from Dragonstone.

“Would you wake if I stole it in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t try it.” He warned, finally unlacing his breeches. Without warning, he lowered himself to your cunt, before he thrust into you slowly. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to adjust to the stretch of it, but the pain felt just right.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Just been a while.”

He nodded, before he thrusted a few more times. And then, without warning, his hips snapped forward, burying himself in you to the hilt.

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to, and Aemond lowered his face to your breasts, taking his time with marring the already bruised skin on your chest further.

His thrusts were harsh, reflecting the anger that was still marring his features. If there was a truly gentle side to Aemond, it wasn’t here now.

Instead, he was all rough and messy, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate attempt to soften its gestures, but all it did was make you gasp into his mouth, only encouraging him to drive further into you.

It took your breath away, leaving you biting his shoulder and neck as you had imagined, fighting him tooth and nail for control.

There was an edge to him, one you’d seen before in Daemon and Rhaenyra, and even Helaena at times. Power and magic that made the Targaryens untouchable, and it clouded his senses just like yours.

His hands were everywhere, grabbing whatever he can take hold on. Bruising, marking your flesh and you know that it’s to claim you over and over again.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, but of pleasure laced with pain this time, the stretch of his cock so unbearably good it makes you wonder why. Why hadn’t you done this sooner?

Had this lust been there before? Would this have happened without a war?

Was that really what it took?

“I need��” Aemond began, trailing off into nothing as he nipped your lip, mirroring your gesture from earlier. He pushed your knees towards your shoulders, driving even deeper. It makes you a mess, fall apart in just the way he wants you too.

“Don’t stop.” You begged. “Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t.” Aemond promised, and his words spoke of the things neither of you dared to say.

“Take me. Make me yours.” A part of you said, one that you did not know you possessed.

“My fierce girl.” He praised. “My fighter, my darling. My love. Mine, mine, mine.”

His words became a mantra, thrumming with the racing beat of your heart.

Yours.

Betrayal shouldn’t feel this good, and yet, Aemond made the guilt disappear into background noise with soft praises soothing earlier insults. He flipped you around after a while, hands grabbing your hips as you tried to steady yourself on the cot, hands tangling with bedsheets.

They bruised you again, lilac and purple blooming on your skin, bones stretching against it. You were hungry for something you didn’t know you wanted, and Aemond’s hands promised sweet release.

His chest flattened against your back, jaw finding your neck again and biting more marks into it, as if there weren’t already enough there. Hands tangling into your hair, he turned your head to kiss you harshly, more teeth and bite than soft kisses, but in that moment it felt right.

“Gods.” He gasped, thrusting into you with a frenzy. His hands found your sweet spot, rubbing until you found yourself painfully close to the edge. You could feel his breath on your back, the desperate savageness that accompanied his person now.

Heat bloomed in your stomach as you felt him continue, observant to your reactions. He studied you as he studied his swordplay, a skill he wanted to master. He already had, and yet, you couldn’t help but arch your back and meet his cock.

“So desperate?” he teased, and you ignored him, even as he taunted you for fucking yourself on his cock.

“You’re the one rutting into me.” You tried. Trading insults didn’t feel necessary, you were both desperate enough for each other to betray the cause you were so loyal to, and that was proof enough of your desperation.

“Give in.” he demanded. “Give yourself to me.”

“You’re mine,” you managed instead. “You’ll always be mine; I don’t care about the rest.”

He bit back his witty comeback, you knew it. It felt like a heartwarming gesture, if his hands and cock hadn’t made your spine go soft and your legs shake. He was desperate to make you cum, and that was how you knew he was close as well.

You wanted him to cum first, to lose if only in this, but with a few more sloppy thrusts, he had pushed you over the edge, your arms failing you as he followed after you seconds later.

As soon as it was done, he tried to move away from you. He let you pull him back in. You kissed him softly, slowly, as you had longed to do for a long time.

Now that his anger had dissipated, his lips melted against yours, his grip gentle and soft again, soothing over the love bites he had just made.

Carefully, he dressed you, a proud expression on his face as he noticed his seed between your legs.

“You’ll get me moontea for that.” You said.

“Or a septon.” He smirked, tying his breeches.

“What gave you the impression?”

Wordlessly, Aemond scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the door.

“’You’ll always be mine’ was quite indicative.” He said, mimicking your gasps. Aemond carried you all the way to his chambers, setting you down on a bed that felt like a cloud.

“We can’t marry.” You reminded him quietly.

“Yes, we can. I’m the prince.”

“Precisely. I am a blacksmith’s daughter for the enemy of your faction.”

“Perhaps I shall make my own faction then.” Aemond replied.

“And make a peasant your queen? I do believe the nobles would rather have a woman then.”

“My mother would love you.”

“Since when? No doubt she knows I fucked her maid as a parting gift by now.” You said.

“That was your last act in the Red Keep?” Aemond asked. “I do admit, it might be a little difficult to make up for it.”

“I mean it, Aemond. ‘Tis no joking matter. You must either let me go, or kill me now, for I know I cannot do that to you.” You replied.

“You can leave tomorrow morning.” He agreed. “And I shall have no mercy if I see you on the battlefield. Or you can stay, and marry me at noon. The choice is yours to make.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x reader #aemond one eye x you #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x lowborn!reader #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction

[wastelandmoony]

I have a Request. Best friends to lovers with James Potter. James potter stealing readers favourite shampoo. The reader notices this while she's in the shower. So angry she wraps a towel around her body and storms up to there marauders dorm with her hair soaking wet. She thinks that it was sirius who took and but she notices James in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hair soaking wet. So she reaches to smell his hair only to find out that his hair smells like her shampoo

Hiya! I've actually never been sent a request before, so forgive me if it's rough <3

Summary: James is in love with Y/N, but has yet to make a move and the other Marauders are sick of it.

Genre: Fluff <3

Characters: James Potter x Y/N, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew

Warnings: language, sexual innuendo courtesy of Sirius

A/N: Reader also plays for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, if that wasn't clear.

------------------------------------

The sounds of Queen echoed off the walls of the dormitory as James walked in, hair dripping into his eyes as he pushed back the soaked locks with one hand. 

Peter looked up from his Transfiguration essay, “How was practice?”

James shook out his hair, returning his glasses to his face, “Brutal. I’m about to start scheduling doubles on game weeks—“

Remus glanced at the door, letting the book he was reading fall onto his lap, “Is Y/N behind you?” 

James turned around, confused, “No? I was just in the showers…”

Remus leaned back against the headboard, “Huh, weird. I thought I smelled her for a moment…”

Across the room, Sirius sat up from his lounged state, “I’d kill for those heightened senses Moony. Imagine how much it’d come in handy during our little…extracurricular excursions—“

“—Just call them what they are, Pads, they’re just pranks,” Remus deadpanned, going back to his book.

“—anyway, speaking of Y/N…Prongsy over here almost got completely decked by a bludger earlier because he couldn’t keep his eyes off her,” Sirius wagged his eyebrows at James.

“Shut it, I was just…making sure her maneuvers were correct,” he tried to control the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sure she can maneuver just fine, mate,” Sirius laughed as he dodged a flying chocolate frog box courtesy of James.

James smirked and walked over to his trunk to find a clean jumper.

“SIRIUS FUCKING BLACK!” 

Sirius sat up abruptly, color draining from his face, “There’s no way she heard me—“ 

The door flew open to reveal a towel-clad, fuming Y/N, clutching an empty shampoo bottle in her hand. 

James spun around and immediately flushed at the sight of her soaking wet. 

She chucked the empty bottle at Sirius, who barely dodged it, throwing his hands up in confused anger.

“What the fuck did I do?!” He yelled as she stalked over to his bed.

“You used the rest of my shampoo, you fucking nob!” Her eyes narrowed.

Sirius laid back down, waving her off, “No I didn’t, it was probably Lily.”

“Let me smell your hair then,” she climbed onto his bed, trying to grab at his long black hair.

“Gerroff me,” he struggled, trying to push her hands away as she attempted to pin him down.

The other three watched in amusement as she finally gripped his head with two hands and smelled the top of Sirius’ scalp. 

She sat back on her heels, face contorted in confusion.

Sirius fixed his hair, shooting her a glare, “I bloody told you, it wasn’t me.”

James went back to rummaging through his trunk, a motion that caused her to zero in on his similarly towel-clad appearance.

“Jamie—“ she called, his head popping up from his search. She watched as his wet curls dripped onto his chest, the cogs in her brain starting to turn. Rising from Sirius’ bed, she walked over to James, who froze as she drew closer. 

She leaned in, smelling the familiar scent of strawberries on him, “—it was you?”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “Y-yeah…I ran out and it was the first thing I saw, I’m sorry.”

She smiled sweetly at him, “It’s okay, I have an extra bottle in my room if you want it?” 

He nodded a little too quickly, and she turned to run back to her dorm to retrieve the extra shampoo. 

The moment she disappeared, Sirius sat up and shot James a look, “You didn’t run out, there’s an entire bottle of that Sleekeazy shit in the shower, I used it earlier—“

“—he just wants to smell her,” Pete chimed in from the floor, eyes never leaving his essay.

James groaned, running both hands over his face.

“You’re hopeless, mate,” Remus sighed from his bed, “Just ask her to Hogsmeade already, put us all out of our misery…”

#james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #james potter fluff

[peterparkersnose]

Two Ghosts

pairing: kylo ren x queen!reader 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: neglect, arranged marriage, dislike of s/o, reader has children, descriptions of periods, domestic abuse, old values (women are dainty bullshit), guys kylo isn’t nice remember that, fertility issues, stopping of a period due to stress, reader lives for her children basically, reader obviously has anxiety, reader is basically breaded for heirs, kylo is awkward (the dude doesn’t have social skills. at all. whatsoever), even though he still has some rizz (call him kylo rizz if you would), a good ending? idk guys remember kylo just isn’t a great person and the first order isn’t a good organization too

a/n a long warning list 😬. anyways i never get notes on kylo fics but i simply do not care. i love writing new content for this man. he deserves it all.

summary Kylo tries being the husband Y/N always wanted him to be

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read time: 9 mins 40 seconds

Watching you felt almost wrong. The neglect he’s given you through the years- the pain you’ve felt and him not caring about you for as long as he’s known you.

He didn’t deserve to watch this beautiful sight of his family, the family he didn’t even want. The family he wasn’t even apart of. You two were an arranged marriage, married for political reasons. He needed an heir, your father needed peace on your home planet. You and your children had always been a nuisance to him. 

You had given up on the romantic attempts years ago. But something in this sight, something about you right then made him sick. Something made him click taking in this view from the balcony on the hill.

For weeks he had longing feelings of sadness. He hated admitting it and rejected it as much as he could, but light was seeping into the cracks. His moods began to lighten softly, not enough for you to notice but enough to scare him. Now looking down and feeling this, it was just a confirmation of what was really happening to him.

The sun shown down on your beautiful yellow dress that was layed out on the grass. Your hair was up in intricate braids due to the heat on Naboo, the tiny loose strands were swaying in the wind. The field you sat in was just off a short cliff, the beautiful rural city and coast were just feet away. The perfect escape between the busy city and the old city. The mansion sat atop the hill, separating the two separate terrains. You were on a vacation and had begged him to come for the sake of his children.

Your oldest son ran around you in circles, playing with a TIE one of his father’s assistants bought him for Christmas. Kylo couldn’t be bothered to celebrate, let alone give gifts. Henry was just shy of his sixth birthday. His blonde hair was messy and in need of a cut sometime soon. His gray tunic and black pants matched his father’s aesthetic a little too much for your liking. Running around, he made engine sounds as the ship would like a typical 5 year old.

Your youngest daughter sat in front if you, playing with some wildflowers she had plucked into an array of ‘jewlery’. She was three. Unlike her brother, she had beautiful strong brown hair. Unbeknownst to you, it completely mirrored her grandmothers. You had her hair in your hands, coming through it with your fingers trying to decide what design to attempt today. Amala squirmed as she attempted to join her brother, but you kept her in place in your lap. She was to learn to be a lady as you were. Her dark pink dress was spread out in front of her.

Kylo watched you as the pit in his stomach felt odd. It had always been empty, but this time something ached inside of it. He had never had any interest in you. The times you ever had sex were intended and resulted in children, exactly what he needed. He cared more about Henry than Amala. Henry was the oldest and the heir to the First Order. But work called. He was never a family man, he was never meant to be a family man.

These feelings continued to conflict him throughout the night.

As the sun set you came in with the children. The nannies took them upstairs and readied them for bed. You took your place at the long dinner table. On the opposite side sat your husband- legally.

Over the years you obviously lusted for other men. You didn’t even dare act on your thoughts, or barely thought the thoughts at all. You knew Kylo would have their heads within seconds. With an absent husband emotionally and physically it was hard. In the first few years of your marriage, you struggled with fertility problems. Life was so lonely without the children. He grew angrier and angrier with you each time you got your cycle and your anxiety got so bad that it soon stopped. Your doctor moved you to separate chambers and eventually Henry was conceived after years of trying.

You felt like a failure before your son was born.

After copious amounts of treatment during your pregnancy, Henry was born. And then a while after that Supreme Leader Snoke granted you permission to have another. An heir and a spare.

You and Kylo sat silently eating your dinner. Over the years, you had perfected your etiquette. No slurping your wine, no scratching of the fork on the plate. At dinner you would mostly go over your thoughts from the day. The tuition papers you had to sign for Henry’s first school next year. Amala refusing to listen to her nanny and requesting her mommy really warmed your heart. The beautiful memory of that day you had spent with the children. The fact that you were doing it alone and was so good at it.

He listened to your thoughts. You knew he did. No datapad, no work bot giving him constant coded updates you didn’t understand. Tonight it was just the two of you. Two strangers eating dinner together. The show, the facade had to go on. Media wise you two were the loveliest couple in the galaxy. In reality, you spoke maybe once a week.

“R-80!” you called from the dining room. Kylo’s head shot up from his plate of food to see you waiting on the cleaner droid. You had finished the meal and was waiting to leave this awkward encounter.

The droid came around and you began to exit the room. His hand deliberately reached out for yours as you walked past him to get to the door.

A tiny gasp escaped your lips. You stopped and pulled your hand back, a concerned look was on display.

You were begging in your mind for this to had been an accident.

“It was no accident,” he said strongly. His deep voice boomed through your ears. You forgot how powerful it could be sometimes.

For the first time in years Kylo was feeling anxiety. Over something so minuscule, speaking to his wife. His eyes met and darted over your face. He recognized the braid pattern in your hair. You had worn it on your wedding day. Rarely he had seen it on you, depending if he even noticed you on the daily. His eyes were drawn to your dark lipstick on the lips that were slightly pursed.

“Your hair-” he said. Your eyes flicked up to the window, looking for any sign of a reflection.

Did he hate it, was he about to tell you to never wear it again? Was a strand so obviously out of place? Hell, why was he even speaking to you in the first place?

“It’s how it was on our wedding day, if I remember correctly.”

You nodded your head. Heat rose to your cheeks. This is the longest conversation you two have had in months.

He stared into your eyes. He forgot just how beautiful you really were. They were still the same as always, but this time with a few unnoticeable lines around them. You refused to meet his gaze, staring forward at the distorted mirroring of the room in the window.

Ten years in with two kids, you had managed to keep up with yourself and your appearances. For what, you really weren’t sure anymore.

“May I be excused? I would like to go check on the children.” you asked, avoiding his eye contact.

“Yes, one moment.” he said, his hand reaching out for yours. You hesitantly took it.

Kylo took a deep breath. Even though he seemed calm and composed, inside of his head the red alarm was going off. The urge to even ask you this went against everything he believed in. The twist in his stomach snapped. He gave in to the light feelings, begging for more after how good he felt after asking you a simple question.

“May I sleep with you in your chambers tonight?”

Your brows furrowed. “D-did you talk to the Supreme Leader? Did he give you permission for another?” you asked him, worried. You loved your children but you had no say in having them. The Supreme Leader could make you give birth to an army if he willed.

“No, no. This isn’t about sex.” he assured you. Of course you assumed it was about sex. It was the only time he ever really spoke to you. A slight relief flew off your shoulders.

You sighed, taking your hand from his. “I’m going to check on the children.”

Your heels clicked down the empty hallway. Something in you secretly hoped that he would follow you to see the children, but you knew your husband.

You were baffled in his sudden change of heart. He hadn’t shared a bed with you since- well, since Amala was conceived. You didn’t deny his request, but neither confirmed it.

Your thoughts kept you company as you walked down the many corridors and hallways of the mansion.

The large door was cracked, left like that by the nannies. They knew your routine better than anyone else. Amala was sleeping closest to the door. The canopy above her bed was swaying from the wind of the open window. Henry was laying on his stomach in a deep sleep, his limbs all sprawled out over the large bed.

A smile rose to your face as you quietly closed the door. Your heart was full once again. No more doubt plagued the poor, confused thing from dinner.

You made your way to your chambers. You passed what you knew was Kylo’s. Shockingly, the door was open. You caught a glimpse of him working at his desk. He looked too large for the thing, trumping the tiny chair in size. The patio was open and the moonlight rushed in, lighting his room ominously.

He caught a glimpse of your flowing yellow dress passing his room. He wanted to finish up a few papers before bed, but in his heart he knew he had to neglect his work for one night.

He mustered up enough courage to knock on your door. A sweet “Coming!” came from inside. Within seconds, your door was open and he was met with your fresh face. You had changed into your night robes and had your natural hair down on your shoulders. The bathroom light was on and he noticed the fresh mint scent coming from your breathe.

Your night maids hadn’t been around yet, he presumed.

Something in your look, your energy died a bit when you saw him.

How had he never noticed? How could all these feelings, these guilt trips be plaguing him now, suddenly? What changed?

“We’re you hoping for a maid?” he asked, following you into the large room. He locked the door behind him.

You sat down back at your vanity, pulling your brush out of the drawer.

“No.” you replied. He knew you were lying.

The bed creaked as Kylo sat down. His dark grey dress pants were perfectly ironed and didn’t crease at the contact. He itched at his black turtleneck, swiping the cuff with his finger. He could hear his watch ticking from his wrist. The room was cold.

“May I ask why you wanted to be here?” you asked, a certain confidence in your voice had occurred. Turning now to face him, you finished brushing your hair and placed your hairbrush back in the drawer.

“Honestly darling, I’m really not sure.”

Darling?

If you weren’t so poised your jaw would have been on the floor.

“Today I saw a sight. You with the kids in the field.”

“Oh Kylo, there children. There’s nothing wrong with them playing in a field if this is what this is about-”

“No. I-”

Kylo Ren had never felt himself speechless before, yet again choking up at the sight of his family he used to despise.

Your tucked your chair back into your vanity. Now standing infront of the cowardly man, you waited for his response.

His hand cradled his forehead as he stared at the floor, watching your perfectly manicured feet come into frame.

That’s when he let his first sob out in years. You quickly embraced him in your arms, his forehead finding a resting place against your stomach. Your hands sprawled over his back in a cautious way. Peeking over ever so slightly, you checked if he had his lightsaber on his belt. Thank the gods he didn’t, you were afraid he would cut you into two.

Nobody had ever seen Kylo Ren cry.

“I don’t understand what you are getting at.” you whispered to him. Another sob came out, you began to rub his back.

“I-I am such a fool.” he managed to speak. His eyes looked up into yours, finally making contact for the first time in forever.

The look on your face was baffled.

“What have I been doing? I have a family- a wife? So much neglect, so much hate. How are you still here, my dear? How have I not driven you away, or driven you to worse? I-I have two children. Two beautiful children I don’t know and such a beautiful wife that I’m strangers with. So many years wasted. How did it take me ten years to see this? How did one small instance make my life come crumbling down around me?” he asked, bawling out his words.

You were speechless.

“I want to learn- please. How do I have such an amazing person with me and I don’t know the slightest thing about her? Tell me, w-what’s your middle name?” he went on, now holding you by the hips and eagerly speaking.

And that’s when it really hit you. You two were strangers.

“Amala,” you muttered out. “Oh! T-that makes so much sense—in our daughter. Her name,”

“What are there names, please tell me.” he seemed to beg.

“Henry Cornelius Benjaq Ren, Amala Charress Bryneri Ren.” you answered, a smile emerging on your lips.

Was this too good to be true?

Kylo was stunned of Henry’s middle name. Benjaq. There was no way you knew of his real name. The coincidence hurt him even more.

“Cornelius and Charress…” he pondered. “They sound so familiar are they…”

“My parents.” you answered him. “King Cornelius! How could I forget? Oh Y/N. I have neglected you for so long. How could you ever forgive me?”

His voice sounded genuine. “It’s definitely going to take time.” you sighed. Suddenly the years of loneliness and suffering flashed back in your mind. You broke away from his embrace and walked to the open balcony, giving him an invitation to follow.

“I will try. Please Y/N, let me.” he begged, following you outside.

The warm air brushed against your cool skin. You sighed, wishing you would wake up from this nightmare and your husband would be back. Did someone poison his food?

The yearning for anyone’s touch seeped into your mind. Watching all the other royal couples around the galaxy, they all seemed to love eachother. Hands touching almost constantly, sneaking a kiss or two at events. It was rare that you even got a photo with Kylo at the parties you would attend.

“I know,” he sighed, taking your hands into his. “I wish I could make it all go away.” he said with remorse.

The waves crashed against the sand. The wind was beginning to pick up. Your hair began to sway in the slight breeze. “Make it then,” you whispered, grazing a hand against his cheek. You dared giving him any sign of affection. You were half expecting him to pull his lightsaber out and cut you in half, just as you thought before. Something felt so wrong, but so right.

You kissed your husband for the first time since your wedding day. His lips were slightly chapped and you could taste the negroni he was drinking at dinner. The moon show down on the both of you, and the feeling he felt seemed to pass on to you. Force sensitive or not, the force was in your favor tonight. You felt the remorse and the pain he had been harboring for years. All the sleepless nights over work and heartache over his past life. You seemed to dilute all of that inside of him. You were the missing piece he was looking for all along. The thing he wanted the least was now his prized possession; his wife, the mother of his children, his Queen, his Empress.

All of that love came back. The feeling of when he was a little boy and still had light into him entered his heart once again. Ben Solo seeped through the cracks of his dark, broken heart.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise​ 

#peterparkersnose #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren angst #kylo ren pregnancy #kylo ren x female reader #kylo ren star wars #kylo ren one shot #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren headcanon #adam driver #ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo one shot #ben solo angst #ben solo blurb #kylo ren blurb #ben solo fluff #ben solo imagine #ben solo fanfiction #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x princess!reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren x queen!reader #peterparkersnosework

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Crown

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, violence, mention of the murder attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, verydark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Never before in her life had she felt such happiness and such relief as when she saw her mother, alive, smiling, standing in her chamber. She dreamt of it in solitude, heartbreakingly trying to come to terms with the fact that she would only see her and convey everything she wanted to tell her in the next life.

Instead, she could burst out crying like a little child, find herself in her arms again, smelling her wonderful, calming scent, her hands stroking her head and her back. For a long moment she couldn't calm down, sobbing loudly, apologising to her for everything, babbling about how scared she was, how much she was suffering, how she was dying every day at the thought of not protecting her.

When she calmed down at last she sat with her on her bed, realising that someone must have led to this miracle, that something had happened that had completely escaped her attention, that there was someone else in the coffin or no one at all, that someone had helped her flee.

"I helped the Prince escape when he was a child. He offered to help me run away if I secured my brother's support for him. When he found out what your father wanted to do to me, he arrived at his call." She said calmly, stroking her head, and she swallowed loudly, remembering that Vhagar's real name was Aemond, that he had taken her on the table a moment ago, her thighs sticky from her moisture and his seed.

All this time he knew her mother was alive.

I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep.

She's free now.

She stared in disbelief at her mother's lap, realising with a rapidly beating heart that he had never said that he had killed her.

That he had never lied to her.

She felt a wave of heat, a wave of gratitude, of devotion, of tenderness surge through her body. She thought she would do anything for him, that she would never repay him for this miracle that had just embraced her with his arms. She lifted her gaze, recalling with fear her younger brother, the fact that he was officially the heir to the throne.

"What about Loras?" She asked in a trembling voice, her mother stroking her head reassuringly and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"He has seen me, he is in shock. My brother remains with him in his chamber so that he is not alone, but for now he cannot leave. Before the coronation, he will have to give up his rights to the throne in front of everyone, agreeing that you should become Queen instead." She said calmly, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, hugging her face to her chest, hiding in her embrace as she had when she was a child.

"…are you willing to do it? Marry him?" She asked uncertainly, and she nodded.

"Yes."

That night she waited impatiently for him, knowing he would come, knowing what she wanted to give him. She surprised him with her directness and initiative, the low groans of his pleasure as her mouth clenched and sucked on his manhood made pleasant shivers run through her, her walls throbbing greedily around nothing.

Both of them were surprised at how quickly she managed to bring him to the edge, his noises were full of desire and vulnerability and when he came in her mouth with a loud sigh of pleasure as she swallowed bravely everything that came out of him, wanting him to be satisfied with her.

When she released him from between her lips with a loud splat and looked up at him from below she noticed that his face looked completely different − he was panting loudly, shuddering, stroking her hair, his healthy eye wide open, his lips parted, his length still twitching, swollen from his fulfilment.

"− you will make a fine Queen −" He whispered with some kind of recognition, and she felt his words deep between her thighs. He pushed her wanting her to lie on her back, clearly planning to spend the whole night with her, but she stopped him with a movement of her hands, tightening them on his shoulders.

"− no − no, we can't −" She whispered pleadingly, her eyebrows arched in pain.

There was nothing she wanted more after seeing her mother whole and healthy than to give herself to him, however, if she was to become his wife, she could not allow him to do so.

He furrowed his brow, shocked, looking at her in disbelief.

"− are you mocking me? − I have no intention of pulling it out of you all night −" He said dryly, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer − she squirmed quietly when she felt him rub his manhood between her thighs, an amused smirk appeared on his face when he felt how wet she was.

"− you fucking want this −" He hummed; she tightened her hands on his tunic, shaking her head.

"− I want this − but the court will think I am your whore − I will never be respected by your side − is it not enough that I am the daughter of a traitor? −" She asked in a trembling voice and saw that he froze, looking at her in shock, his lips tightened into a thin line.

"− I will kill with my own hands anyone who dares to insult my Queen −" He hissed. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek − she saw him hesitate, his gaze softened slightly.

"− I ask this of you as your future wife − let us not spend the night together until our nuptials −" She whispered, stroking his scar with her fingertips − she heard him sigh heavily and curse quietly, furious.

He stood up, tying his breeches, staring at her with a clenched jaw and she raised herself up on her elbows, covering her thighs, looking at him gratefully.

"You're going to finish me off, woman." He said with annoyance, and she swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze. She felt his fingers grasp her chin and forced her to look at him.

"Tomorrow, you will accompany me during my council with the lords. You will stand by my side when I tell them of our decision. Do you understand?" He asked coolly, and she nodded, feeling hot in her heart at the thought that he really wanted this.

He really wanted her to be his wife.

The next day, new servants walked into her chamber, looking at her with trepidation, apparently afraid that if they offended her she would tell everything to the dreaded One-Eyed Prince, who would cut their throats.

In silence they helped her to dress and combed her hair − even though she should be wearing mourning, she put on a light navy blue gown with exposed shoulders and long red sleeves reaching to the ground, her and her future husband's colours.

In accordance with his wishes, she was led into the small council chamber, where lords loyal to him over the years as well as those who had joined him later were seated at the table − she was relieved to see her uncle and her mother among them.

This time, as soon as she spotted her future husband sitting at the head of the table she bowed humbly, causing the conversation to fall silent.

"My King." She said softly and lifted her gaze to him − his sapphire now covered by a black eye patch, his healthy eye looking at her with satisfaction and contentment. He nodded at her.

"Come closer, my Lady." He said in a firm, dry voice, and she headed towards him obediently, surprising most of those gathered by the fact that she stopped beside his chair − Criston Cole moved restlessly, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Conquering a city and regaining the throne is one thing, however, maintaining it and keeping the peace is another. The simplest way to appease the terrified citizens, in my opinion, would be a union between the feuding families, heralding a new beginning. That is why I have made decision to take Lord Walford's daugther as my wife and that she will be crowned with me during our nuptials." He said lowly − an uproar and dissenting voices echoed around her, her heart beat hard in horror as one of the lords stood up and pointed a finger at her.

"This is treacherous blood, my King. It passes from generation to generation, it cannot be trusted. Send her back to the monastery, my daughter would be a more suitable candidate for your wife." He said looking at him with outrage, however her future husband's face remained impassive and indifferent.

"I declare my will, my Lord, not to ask your opinion. Have you supported me only to have me marry your daughter? Will you turn against me if I do not?" He asked coldly, with emphasis, wanting to push him to the wall. The man swallowed loudly, shaking his head.

"No, of course not, my King, however you must not be fooled, she will want to avenge her father and put her younger brother on the throne, she…" He didn't finish as a fiery argument broke out around her − her uncle stood up from his seat, furious, saying that it was thanks to him that they had taken over the city and he didn't wish anyone to speak to his niece in such a way − the other lord said he only did it because he wanted to be King himself.

"Why would I want to avenge my father?" She asked, looking straight into the eyes of the lord who had insulted her earlier − the man fell silent surprised that she had the courage to interrupt the men's discussion and interject.

"Because I believed he ordered my mother to be killed? Because if it wasn't for our King I would have took my own life? Because my father wanted to sell me like a mere whore to whoever would offer more?"

She asked in a trembling voice, a tense silence fell around her.

"I wanted nothing more than his death. Our King can attest that when I realised that my, what I thought at the time, ghost had connections to your cause I offered to help the Prince and do whatever he wanted, if only he would agree to spare my little brother's life. I told him this without knowing who was hiding under the mask."

"You could have done it because you sensed something was coming and wanted to warn your father!" Said one of the men, slamming his fist on the table.

"That's enough." Growled their King, but she wasn't about to leave that comment unanswered.

"If I loved him so much, why didn't I warn him? Why, after discovering the shelter under the bed in my mother's chamber, did I not inform him that the Prince might have taken refuge there, that he had survived?"

Silence answered her − the lords looked at each other uncertainly with grim faces. She heard her future husband sigh heavily, running his hand over his face.

"I appreciate your devotion, my Lords, but my decision is not negotiable. Let us proceed with the details of the coronation so that we can get it over with. I understand your concerns, fear not, you will fill your purses with gold."

Despite the extreme distrust and coldness with which her husband's decision was received, it looked as if his allies must have struggled to accept it, seeing that he was taking it seriously, not wanting to lose out in his eyes, hoping for close and important positions in his future council.

She watched from the sidelines with the ease with which he set them up like pawns on his chessboard, seeing exactly what they wanted, the greed and vanity behind their grand words of allegiance.

He knew that he could not trust them completely, that he had to control them.

Even though he didn't have a mask on his face, he somehow put it on in front of them, not letting any of his emotions or thoughts come to the surface that he didn't want to share with them.

She saw his greedy, thirsty gaze, knew he was dying of rage and irritation, struggling to keep his promise not to go near her since that night.

He craved her and couldn't touch her.

When the day of the coronation finally arrived her maids prepared her bath in the morning, dried and combed her hair, helping her put on her beautiful new black and red gown, a gift from her future husband, the colour of his house.

She felt a kind of pride when she noticed that the shade suited her − her dark hair contrasted with the ruby long sleeves, her hair partly pinned up in a bun at the back of her head, partly loose, flowing down her bare back.

She walked out of the fortress for the first time in weeks, accompanied by guards, and was led to the carriage that would take her, escorted by Criston Cole along with her mother and her brother, to the temple where the nuptial and coronation ceremony was to take place.

"Do you remember what you are supposed to say?" Their mother asked Loras, correcting his robe, also the colours of red and black, proof that he too was from now on relinquishing his father's lineage to his new house.

"Yes." He muttered, looking at her in horror, pale, his large, dark eyes glazed over from tears. "If I say all this, won't they cut my throat?"

She pressed her lips together at his words and reached out with her hand, grasping his fingers, squeezing them, looking at him tenderly.

"No one will hurt you again. I will become the wife of a Prince, and then a King, and you will retain the title of lord and inherit the estate that once belonged to our father. Everything will be as it should be." She said calmly, for the first time sincerely believing that their lives would finally be at peace, that her husband would keep his word.

When they arrived there were crowds of onlookers waiting around and in the temple itself, horrified people not knowing what to think about what had happened, watching them in silence.

Her younger brother was led onto the podium with their mother, much to their consternation − she heard shouts that it was a miracle, that the Queen was dead. Her mother placed a hand on his shoulder as he began to recite what he had been ordered to say.

"I, Larys Walford, as the son of a traitor, renounce my claim to the crown in favour of its rightful heir, Prince Aemond Targaryen, and my sister, his future wife, retaining by their grace the title of Lord." He said in a trembling, childish voice from which she felt a tightening in her throat.

He came downstairs, standing behind her, heading with her to the entrance, where her uncle was waiting for her to lead her inside instead of her father. She grabbed his arm and nodded that she was ready.

When they went inside all eyes were fixed on them, but for some reason she felt no fear or panic. All she looked at was the man who stood in front of the huge altar, behind him the tall windows through which the sun fell, illuminating his pale face, his eye patch, his long, almost white hair.

He stood upright, proud, prepared for this moment for many years, confidence, calmness and determination beaming from him − she saw that he swallowed hard at the sight of her, a barely visible grimace of satisfaction and contentment on his lips, from which she felt heat in her lower abdomen.

He craved not only the crown, but also her.

It was all about to become just his in the eyes of the gods.

Her uncle gave him her hand, which he grasped in his own, looking down at her, his gaze seeming soft to her despite the coldness, her fingers tightening lightly on his skin.

"We are gathered here to unite, bless and anoint these two people entrusting the fate of us all into their hands. Do you, standing here before the face of the gods, wish to join in holy matrimony of your own free will?"

"Yes." They both replied in a confident, clear, calm voice.

"Have either of you, standing here before me, made a commitment to someone else that might stand in the way of this sacred union of marriage?"

"No." Again they both answered, she saw his gaze change with each passing moment, as if he was slowly realising that this was really happening, that they were just becoming one.

"Therefore, I, the envoy and servant of the gods on earth, call upon you to take an oath:

In the face of the gods and all assembled witnesses, I vow that what was empty becomes full, what was broken becomes whole, and what was separated becomes one, now and for all eternity.

They said with difficulty. She felt tears gather in her eyes with each word, her throat tightened, their fingers clenched on their hands − she saw his lower lip tremble slightly.

There was a complete silence around them that made her hear their accelerated breaths perfectly − they let go of each other's hands when the priest ordered them to face him and kneel.

She closed her eyes as he anointed first his forehead and hands with holy oils and then hers, while saying that by the will of the gods they would rule this kingdom.

She heard Ser Criston Cole take a black steel crown, adorned with rubies, from the altar and walk over to her husband, placing it on his head. He went back and took another crown from it, which was in the form of a diadem with ringing ruby beads − when he placed it on her head it would fall on either side on thin strings, connecting to each other at the back.

Her husband stood up, and she rose with him, Criston Cole shouting behind them.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!" His lordship cheered, and behind them the other assembled people began to chant, simple folk who had watched everything from afar.

Loud applause echoed all around them, and she thought that people, like her, were relieved at the thought that the worst was behind them, that perhaps there would be peace at last.

They returned to the fortress on horseback so that all those gathered could see them − she rode a little way behind and heard the people shouting her name, calling her their queen, running after her.

She looked at them with some kind of emotion, remembering how they had thrown flowers at her feet when she returned alone to the keep, thinking that her mother was dead.

They were welcomed in the fortress with a huge feast of dancing and revelry, seated behind a large wooden table, receiving congratulations from the lords and their families along with vows of allegiance, which they accepted with a nod.

She knew they were both dyingly exhausted and dreamed only of rest and respite. Her husband did not ask her to dance, however, she did not mind.

She felt no need to do so, although to her surprise, she was filled with contentment.

She looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye − he was sitting with his profile to her listening to the words of another of the lords, the black crown on his head looked noble.

It seemed to her that he was born to wear it.

When at last they were able to retire to bed, her husband ordered her to go with him to his chamber, so she did so without a word of objection, and her servants followed her.

He watched sitting in a chair as they helped her to take off her gown, trying to remove the diadem from her head first, however, he immediately protested.

"No. The diadem is to stay." He said coldly, in a slow respectful movement pulling the crown off his head, placing it beside him on the table, looking at it thoughtfully.

Her servants walked out when she was finally left in just her nightgown, closing the door behind them − her husband raised his eyes at her, his gaze expressing displeasure.

"Shall I rip it off you?" He asked lowly, so she pulled at the ties of her nightgown and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall lightly to the floor.

She saw her husband-king lick his lower lip involuntarily, seeing her naked body at last in the candlelight, able to admire her shamelessly without having to rely solely on his sense of touch.

He rose slowly from his chair with a creak of wood, approaching her unhurriedly, towering over her. She shuddered as his hands ran gently over her shoulders, up to her neck and cheeks, a pleasant, warm shiver passed through her even though she was cold.

He surprised her when he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, barely rubbing against them without giving her a full kiss. She sighed in delight as she felt his familiar touch and scent, her fingers ran over the soft skin of his cheeks reciprocating his caress.

She moaned quietly as he grabbed her with his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips greedily pressed against hers in a loud kiss as if he were tasting the fruit − they both gasped as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively.

"− I'll lick you good down there before I slide it into you − hm? −" He murmured running his nose over her cheek and she felt her insides throbbing hard at his words. She nodded quickly, running her fingers through his hair impatiently, looking up at him pleadingly.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her hips and lifted her with ease, walking with her towards the royal bed that had once belonged to her father, and his father before that.

She sighed as her warm body collided with the cold sheets, her husband taking her thighs in his hands and spreading them in front of him, looking down at her with slightly parted lips.

"Mmm."

He murmured, and then leaned over her, nuzzling his face into her warmth between her thighs, with shy, tentative movements sliding the tip of his tongue inside her, teasing her deliberately, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips, her body arching backwards as his nose rubbed against her bud.

"− please − please, my husband −" She mumbled out, feeling her whole body burn with desire − for the time he hadn't visited her she had satisfied herself with her own hand, but it wasn't the same − she needed and wanted only him. She heard him hum with satisfaction at her words, watching her reaction with contentment.

"− so impatient − I was thinking only about this listening to those fucking fools −" He muttered between one lick of his tongue and the next, making her body tremble in his hands.

"− about what I'm going to do to my wife tonight −" He breathed out − she moaned loudly, surprised, clasping her hands in his hair as his tongue suddenly burst deep inside her.

He began to eat her like a starving man with a loud click of their mixed moisture, the tip of his tongue rubbing and pressing the spot inside her from which her walls throbbed wonderfully, her hips began to push desperately against his face.

"− my King − right here, yes, please −" She was panting and whimpering with pleasure when she felt the shockingly intense fulfilment shake her body, waves of heat flowing through her one after another − she was writhing in front of him, thinking only of the fact that he was her King and she had just come on his face.

She heard him sigh in contentment, with slow, lazy flicks of his tongue licking off everything that flowed out of her.

She looked at him with misty eyes when she heard him rise up on his knees, wiping his face with the back of his hand, reaching up to clasp of his tunic, staring at her as if he was about to devour her.

"− as your King and husband, I swear to you that you'll fall asleep and wake up with this inside you −" He murmured with a grin as he untied his breeches, releasing his hard, swollen erection, its tip glistening from his own wetness.

She spread her thighs obediently in front of him as he leaned over her, placing one hand at her head, the other guiding the fat head of his cock against her entrance, still throbbing from her fulfillment, and he pushed into her, a moan of delight escaping from their throats.

He slid deep into her with one sure thrust and immediately began to slam into her, panting loudly along with her, imposing an intense, fierce pace, his thighs slapping again and again against her buttocks with the loud click of her juices.

"− oh gods, yes − fuck, I've missed this −" He breathed out, rooting into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, sliding into her with ease − she reached her hand up to his eye patch and pulled it off in one sure motion, startling him completely.

He groaned low as she grasped his cheeks in her hands and pulled his face to hers, their lips colliding in a sticky, loud kiss, their bodies hitting each other fast and hard.

"− yes − please, yes, fuck me, my King − I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours −" She mewled meeting each of his thrusts with the bucking of her hips, one of her hands clamped down on his buttock allowing him to pound into her harder. She could feel him twitching all over, close to fulfilment after such a long separation, her insides sucked desperately at his cock, wanting to keep him inside her.

"− gods, stop clenching − stop, oh, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck −" He muttered before fulfilment shook his body and his hot seed spilled inside her − they were both panting, looking at each other with misty eyes, trying to prolong this sensation with the motions of their sweaty bodies.

She sighed quietly as he leaned in and kissed her deeply, pulsing hard, still moving inside her with involuntary rocking of his hips.

"− you are made for me −" He sighed in relief, his voice filled with calmness, as if stating a fact he had read about in some book.

"− you were born to be mine −"

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Aemond Taglist:

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