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muzansfangs · 3 months

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Immoral cravings.

Starring: Nanami Kento x f!reader; Toji Fushiguro x f!reader; Hiromi Higuruma x f!reader;

Format: short-imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, age gap but the reader is 21, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise kink, size kink, daddy kink, semi-public sex, hair pulling, spanking, marking the partner, power imbalance, immoral relationships, morally grey decisions and men, revenge sex, slut shaming, choking, overstimulation, breeding kink, implied reference to pregnancy (Hiromi);

Plot: they are older than you and you both know your relationship is not exactly healthy. The charm of an older man, a real one, the allure of having someone you should not even think about in such a lewd way were unbearable thoughts weighing on your conflicted mind, though. You gave in, in the end, allowing them to ruin you in ‘worst’ way possible.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Nanami Kento.

You always pested him during his lunch break. At first, it was unintentional. You just dropped by your father’s office to check out on him, walking down the corridor with that ridiculously short skirt. You were a sinful sight for him. He tried to ignore you, going as far as keeping on working and not flicking his gaze up to greet you.

However, not averting his eyes from the screen to soak in your curves was impossible. He started to loathe your beauty. The sound of your voice was enough to make his pants feel too tight. He did not blame you for striking up frivolous conversations with him, or wearing such provocative attires, though. At least, he did not accuse you of messing with him until he realized you had got the hint of what you were doing to him.

You turned into a pest.

Hopping onto his desk, defiant smile gracing your glossy lips, you made sure to spread your legs enough to let him catch a glimpse of your panties. Those stupid white panties, evoking purity and virginity. Did you think you could fool him? You were far from being a celestial being. You were a freaking demon relentlessly testing his nerves. But he was done with you and your pathetic entr’acte.

You were soon going to deal with the painful problem you caused him every single time you casually waltzed into the office with the only intent of driving him mad.

His hand latched onto the back of your neck, pushing your cheek against the mirror in front of you, was the clear sign of how much you had pissed him off. Your skirt hiked up to your hips, as your hands were firmly curled up around the edge of the sink, you let a strained moan leave your lips for a particularly hard thrust hitting your g-spot.

You had lost the count of how many times he had made you come, milking his dick deliciously to make it up for the pent up anger you had caused him.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you can’t take it” he growled, his lips fanning your earlobe as he geave your hip a squeeze, probably hard enough to leave some purple bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

Your vision was blurry, as tears of pleasure brimmed up in your eyes, your make-up ruined at this point. His thrusts were punishing, the sound of his thighs smacking against your ass was so lewd you almost felt ashamed of yourself. Yet, you could not deny you had been craving him since the day your father introduced you to the workaholic Nanami Kento. The thought of him fucking you to oblivion had almost become obsessive at some point.

“Ngh— It’s too much, Kento” you whimpered, only for him to tangle his fingers through your hair and giving your strands a rough pull.

Mouth agape, cheek leaving the cold surface he had squashed your face against not too long before, you watched the man behind you stare daggers at you through your reflections in the mirror. You were a mess. Black lines of mascara staining your cheeks and your hair unusually disheveled were enough to make your stomach churn.

If your father found out about this you were screwed. Quite literally.

“You are taking it like the good little slut you are. Listen to this. — he rasped out, dragging his length a little slower down your dripping cavern to emphasize the squelching sound of your mixed juices — You are soaked, sucking me in so good. Be a good little girl and let me finish, hm? That’s what I deserve after enduring a painful bulge for six hours every fucking day” he stated, before pulling out of you until only his tip was buried between your folds.

You tried to open your mouth to speak, but when he snapped his hips forward, earning a scandalous high-pitched moan from you, nothing came out if not pleas.

“Gosh! Kento, o my God… It feels so good” you whined out, squeezing your eyes shut as you let him thrust into you once again, resuming that torturous pace that had knocked the air out of your lungs.

The blond man grunted, his cock twitching into you as he approached his incoming climax. His lips found the crook of your neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin as he even praised you “So beautiful, so obedient. You’re a good girl, after all” he chimed, before he stilled into you and filled you up.

Your inner walls tightened around him, your orgasm meeting his one as he held you close to him. It was not just hate sex. He wanted you. You were his precious doll. He wondered how was it even possible that his boss had given life to such a pretty, lovely girl like you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, before your dad comes back from the lunch break” he whispered, pecking your cheek.

Toji Fushiguro.

He had overheard you complaining with his son, Megumi, countless times before you ultimately decided to break up. You two had your fair amount of problems, naturally, but there was one that had made Toji grin from ear to ear. Being into a relatioship with his son for four years had made you pretty comfortable around his shamelessly handosme father too.

Since you often slept over, Toji had suggested you to leave some of your belongings over. Back then it had sounded like a good idea. However, now that Megumi and you had, not so suprisingly, parted roads, you needed to get your things back and forget about that failed love story once and for all. You did not want to cross paths with Megumi and texting his father to ask when you could drop by to collect your stuff, without stumbling into your ex, was your only option.

When he told you Megumi was out for dinner with some friends, you did not hesitate to show up at the door with an empty box between your hands and an apologetic expression plastered over your face.

That gorgeous face of yours, your soft eyes and your sudden bashful attitude were such a delectable sight for Toji. He was shirtless, like most of the time, causing your cheeks to heat up and your eyes to rake down his abs not so subtly. Was it not immoral and pitiful to thirst after your ex’s father? Most definitely, but you were not in the mood to self-deprecate.

Not when, five minutes later, you ended up sobbing on a picture of you and Megumi eating cotton candy together six months before. You had loved him so unconditionally. You had spent the best years of your life with him, feeling glad every single day for having met him. But everything ended, right? Good things were not an exception to that rule.

Hearing your cries, Toji walked up to you, spotting your frail frame sitting on Megumi’s bed and crying your eyes out. What a perfect occasion for him to sneak his arm around your waist and drawing soothing circles on your back. Toji was not an overly affectionate man, not even with his son.

But he was there for you.

You did not even realize how it happened. All you knew was that, after drying up your tears with his lips, Toji was hovering over you. Your shorts had been tossed across the room, as his large hand had slithered down your stomach and past the hem of your panties.

His fingers, plunged deep into your core, stretched you out so deliciously, stimulating all the right spots to make you moan out in pleasure. You hated yourself for having made such a comparison, but your mind kept on screaming Megumi had never made you whimper like that, not even when he was sheathed deep into you.

“Fuck it, you’re so tight, baby. That stupid son of mine could not even fuck you good, right? — Toji cooed, his tongue invading your mouth to swallow your moans with a fiery kiss — Not even when he was balls deep into you? Tell me you want my cock, tell me you want me to stretch you out and I will” he allured you to give in, watching how your thighs quivered and your hips bucked up.

How could Megumi be that dumb to let you go?

“Please, Toji, please…” you meekly choked out, as he sighed and withdrew his fingers out of your soppy cunt.

You whined almost in contempt, but then you watched as he leisurely hooked his thumbs underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, dragging them down his muscular thighs, and your jaw went slack. His cock slapped up against his V line, veiny, girthy, making your mouth salivating.

“Let me make you feel like a woman. Spread your legs, pretty girl. Daddy’s coming for you” Toji instructed you, making you shivers and wonder what Megumi would have thought of you, if he caught you impaled on his father’s cock.

Your eyes darted on Megumi’s picture on his nightstand and shamed washed over you. No, no, you had to focus on Toji, not on Megumi.

“Oi, eyes on me. Don’t think about that boyfriend wonnabe” Toji scolded you, grasping your jaw roughly as he ran his the head of his cock down your slit to collect your juices.

You swallowed forcefully down, nodding your head as he grasped your ankles and settled them on the top of his shoulders. The touch of an experienced man could not be nearly be compared to that of a twenty-one years old man. Toji knew how to please a woman. The stretch was almost painful, but as he fucked you like that, folded in half, you saw the stars.

You squeezed his dick perfectly, your warmth engulfing him like a glove, as he groaned out in pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you… So cute and going cock-drunk so easily. No, it’s not going to be the last time we do that, alright? I need to breed that sweet pussy of yours” he huskily said, grasping your lower lip between his teeth and tugging at it gently, asserting once again his dominance over you. Your orgasm, a powerful one after so long, came as a blessing, leaving your body numb.

Too far gone to articulate a speech, you nodded your head, while his hand wrapped around your neck and he finished into you after a few more sloppy thrusts.

You had no idea of the satisfaction he felt in watching his cum leaking out of you and staining his son’s bedsheets. Maybe, just maybe, he had thought about leaving it there for him to understand what his ex girlfriend and his father had been up to while he chewed on some insipid noodles.

Hiromi Higuruma.

He had always been there for you. Your father’s best friend, Hiromi Higuruma, was the man he trusted blindly around you, his daughter, his pride and joy. Everyone in your family appreciated him. Growing up, you had almost lost count of how many times he had joined family dinners and road trips. He was always there for you. Nor you, neither him, though, would have ever thought that in the future he would have bent you over his desk and fucked you to oblivion, scattering the papers carelessly to the floor.

Maybe it was because of his visceral passion, when he talked to you about his profession as a lawyer, that you had chosen to enroll to the local Law School. Everyone, even Hiromi himself, were ecstatic about your decision.

But ambition had pushed you far from home, making you explore other countries as an exhange student. You missed your family, your home, but you soon realized you missed him too. Reading through your textbooks, crying over hard exams, studying to exhaustion, you only thought about him. You wondered if he was proud of you, or if he missed you as much as you missed him.

Sometimes you texted him, he replied almost immediately, congratulating you for your brilliant career. You had become so beautiful. When your father showed him pictures of you, your body blossomed into that of a woman, he found himself cursing his name for the dirty remarks popping out in his mind.

The day you knocked on his office’s door, Hiromi lost the last shred of dignity left in him. You were astonishing, finally an adult young woman exuding a cunning aurea and charm. That tight black skirt and matching high heels you were wearing made his mind spin.

“My father told me you could teach me a thing or two. I’m struggling with a case” you started, your mild voice sounding like a wicked melody he would have listened to forver. He was rational. He knew he should have sent you away before you ended up ruining your relationship, but he could not bring himself to do it.

Human cravings demanded to be satisfied.

“Your father chose the right man for this task. By the way, you look stunning, if it was obvious” he remarked, clearing his throat and closing the door behind you.

The way your red-painted lips parted, your back straightened, while he led you down towards his desk gave away how you felt. He knew people’s reactions, he had seen enough victims and criminals, liars and murderers struggling with feelings in his life to say you were trying to camufflate how you felt or why you were there in the first place.

The moment you began skimming through your documents, all dolled up and finally a colleague, Hiromi fought his dark impulses. You would have looked so pretty bent over his desk, your ass squeezed in his calloused hands, as you moaned out for him.

Two hours into arguing over the best strategy to save your client from jail, his hand suddenly latched around your throat, pulling you close to his body. The sudden action made you gasp for air and blush, but as your hand landed flatly over his chest, trailing down his pectoral, arousal made you press your thighs together. You were so close, the thin fabric of his shirt barely concealing the outline of his chiseled body.

His hand was still wrapped around your throat, his hot breath fanning your lips so hazardously. No, this encounter was not going to end like one of your typical catch-ups. No, this time you would have not said a cheerful, sweet and innocent ‘Bye-bye, Hiromi”.

This time you would have screamed his name at the top of your lungs so erotically that he would have filled you up until his cum dribbled down your inner thighs.

“Your father was right. I’m going to teach you a thing or two today” he murmured, capturing your lips with his in a fiery, passionate kiss. His grip on your neck did not loosen for a second, when his tongue pressed unceremoniously on your lips, parting them and delving into your mouth to involve you into a deeper and fervent kiss.

You whimpered, hands clutching his shirt into your hands as he finally gripped your hips, hand reaching up to unzip your skirt in a hurry. There was no time to waste. You had to be his, now and every single time you crossed roads. When his hands cupped your rear, he groaned, kneading it with passion, as he spun you around to bend you over the desk.

“Don’t worry. When I meet your father, I won’t tell him how I almost fucked a baby into you tonight” he sarcastically commented, unbuckling his belt smoothly as you eagerly slipped your thong down your legs for him. His words went straight to your core, riling you up even more as you smacked the papers and books out of your way to make room for yourself on the polished wooden surface of his desk.

“How many women did you fuck over here?” you asked curiously, glancing at him from above your shoulder.

Hiromi grinned and kissed your neck gingerly, while the tip of his cock teased your bundle of nerves and the area around your opening, not pushing in yet. You were the biggest mistake of his life, but also the most beautiful one. You were a goddess, a flower he had watched blossom, a passion he had nurtured in your last year far from home, from him.

“I’m the one who asks questions here. That’s a cross-examination, princess” he reprimanded you, before delivering a harsh spank that made your body jolt forward. The edge of the desk pressing against your lower abdomen made you suppress a soft wince of pain.

The moment he finally entered you, his cock stretching you out gradually and with care, you arched your back and allowed your insides to embrace him tightly, almost as if you were scared he was going to pull out.

“Fuck… Your pussy should be illegal” he groaned, gritting his teeth as he bottomed out. With your ass pressed up against his pelvis, Hiromi lavished praises on you and the blissful feeling you were gifting him with.

And at the end of his feral, dominant thrusts, he made sure to send you back home with a gift too. Warm, thick, his.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I’m finally exploring the JJK’s field better. I hope you enjoyed this scenario. Honestly, writing this down was a little hard considering how many times I got hot and bothered. Older men have always been my type. Also, the legal shit in there had to be added because, since I study Law, I wanted to make justice to my baby Hiromi. Anyway, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o.

TAGS: @doumadono @axesfordays @brittscafe @flakeygod @gyomeisfavoritespermcell @kr0wu @bleach-your-panties @buttercupmuffins @rebwwca

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami x y/n #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x y/n #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi jjk #hiromi smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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euphemiaamillais · 3 months

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cry, kill, die - coriolanus snow

peacekeeper!coryo finds out you’re commander hoff’s daughter

based on this ask

cw: 18+//piv sex//fingering//spitting//mentions of guns

‘and what are you doing here?’ a rich voice rings out.

you snap your head around, coming face to face with one of the many peacekeepers who serve under your father. this one is more handsome than the others—icy blue eyes, and platinum blonde cropped hair. a smile quirks upon the corners of your lips.

‘is that any of your business?�� you inquire, knowing that you can test the patience of the peacekeepers, because who would dare to cross the commander’s daughter?

‘what, are you visiting your sweetheart, bunny?’ he teases, though there’s a rather stern look in his eyes.

you laugh in response, and attempt to continue on your way—you’ve got a meeting with your father, after all. however, you are stopped by a hand coming down to circle around your wrist. his grip is tight, and disgruntled, you turn back to face him.

‘come on, you don’t have to be so shy. there’s lots of girls like you here. little bunnies who like to spread their favours far and wide.’ he raises a brow suggestively. you can hardly believe he has the audacity.

you don’t know whether you should tell him who you are, or if you should just leave it. he’s not loosened his grip on you. you’re not sure how to answer it either.

‘are you accusing me of being a whore, private?’ you feign a shocked look. he laughs, running his hand up your arm. his touch is cold, like ice, and you shiver a little.

‘perhaps…’ a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. ‘maybe it’s the fact that you’re looking at me like that, just begging to be fucked.’

‘oh, really?’ you rebut—he’s so forward, like most of them are, but you’d never think they’d dare to actually touch you. not more than a few stray kisses at least.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl, and come back to my bunk?’ he says, a tone of dominance in his voice. his fingers are striking his rifle, which catches your eye.

‘perhaps…’ you purse your lips. you don’t know what would happen if your father found you getting too friendly with one of his men, and you didn’t exactly want to find out. but this one was so handsome… you liked how daring he was.

‘perhaps? come now, bunny. that’s not a very good answer, is it?’ he steps closer to you, his gun pressing against your bare thighs.

you shake your head, glancing up at him with wide eyes. he’s so tall, dwarfing you—it makes him all the more commanding. he moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

‘you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your ear, and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks.

‘well, only if you can please me, private,’ you murmur, causing a flash of anger in his eyes. nobody dared to challenge his abilities in bed.

he would prove that to you, bend you over like the little whore you are, fuck you stupid until you couldn’t even cry out your own name. he did that often enough to the other bunnies that hopped around the barracks, hoping for a good time. he was very well practised now, not like the silly little schoolboy that he was back in the capitol with his golden curls and academy rouge.

‘if?’ he laughs, snaking one hand around to grab your ass. ‘not if, sweetheart. when.’

god, he was so full of himself.

deciding that he didn’t want to waste anymore time fooling around, he pulls you by the arm and began to lead you along the dirt track to the barracks. you glance around, watching as the uniformed peacekeepers march their way to large trucks or to training. it’s an all-too familiar site, ever since your father was stationed to 12. you’d have to be careful with this one, though. he was too handsome to be transferred to another district if you were caught.

the barracks are empty when you enter, and he doesn’t take his time with you, shoving you against the wall. he shoves one leg between your thighs, pinning you so you can’t run free. you feel your heart leap with excitement.

he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips—which you return eagerly. you slip your tongue inside his mouth, and move your hands to wrap around his neck. you’re desperate; you can’t help but ache for him, core wet and slick with want.

he moves his lips from your own, and trails hot kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping the delicate skin as he does so. you gasp out, clutching at the nape of his neck, urging him to bite harder. you’ll have to wear a scarf to hide these from your father.

‘so sweet, bunny,’ he mutters into your collarbones.

your hands roam to his ass, pulling him flush against you. you can feel his hard-on pressing against your thighs. you want him so bad, to take you and fuck you like the whore you are—cock filling out your tight cunt.

‘please,’ you whine, wanton and needy. ‘need you to fill me up.’

so direct, he thinks, a grin playing upon his lips. you look so pretty, pressed between his leg, hands grasping at his ass. what a fucking whore, begging him for it. he’s hardly even touched you and you’re already whining for him.

‘soon, bunny.’ he peppers a few kisses against your jaw, hands gripping at your hips.

you let out a mewl, fed up that he’s teasing you so much—he’s not even had the decency to stick his hand between your thighs. aggrieved, you grind down against his thigh, your soaked panties leaving a mark on his perfectly ironed uniform. that would be cause for some explaining to the laundress.

‘oh no,’ he puckers his lips. ‘don’t think you can get away with that… being so impatient.’

you scowl as he moves his thigh away, letting your legs fall to the ground. you stumble a little, trying to find your balance, but he’s quick to tug you along to one of the empty bunks. you wonder what your father would do, finding you in here with him—the peacekeeper who’s name you don’t even know—the thought of being caught makes it all the more thrilling.

he shoves you against the side of the bed, and rucks up your skirt to reveal your soaking panties. he laughs, looking at your pathetic face, trembling lips and wide, dumbfound eyes.

‘so fucking desperate,’ he remarks, kneeling and placing his hands against your thighs. ‘just another one of the little bunnies who likes to get fucked senseless.’

you shake your head, feeling his cold hands creep up your thighs. they latch around the waistband of your panties and tug them down.

‘god, look how wet you are,’ he scoffs, tossing the panties aside.

he slides one finger inside your cunt, and you let out a groan, hands clenching against the woollen sheets. a little daring, he slips another finger in, arching it as far as it can go. it feels so good, and he thrusts them in and out of your wet hole at a teasingly slow pace. goddamn him.

‘need you,’ you pant. ‘in me. please…’

you pout, hoping he’ll take pity on you. he slides his fingers out, gripping your thighs hard. more bruises. you’ll have a lot of explaining to do to your father.

‘does bunny want me to fill up her tight little cunt?’ he asks, fingers pinching at your skin.

‘yes please,’ you sigh, clutching at his shirt.

you attempt to pull him up, coax him to you. you wonder when he’ll figure it out… that he’s seen you before, standing beside your father in a pale pink dress, watching as the peacekeepers eye you. commander hoff’s daughter is supposed to be off limits. he’d shoot any of them on site if he caught them so much as ogle your pretty form making its way through the barracks.

he hangs over you now, elbows propping himself up as he grinds his crotch into the bed. your hands roam down to his waistband, and you stick your hand inside, palming his hard cock. he lets out a heavy groan, and you feel the precum coating his cock.

‘gonna fuck you so good,’ he grunts, hands going to unbutton his pants.

his cock is throbbing when you take it in your hand, guiding it to your entrance. he’s not the first you’ve been with—not that your father knows that—but he’s certainly the biggest. you sigh pleasantly as he slides himself in, not taking any time to ease into your cunt.

he begins to thrust, feeling your tight walls stretch around him, taking him all in. you reach one hand down to rub at your clit, which is aching with need. he slaps your hand away, seeing you touching yourself—it’s an insult to his abilities—and uses his thumb to rub soft circles on the sensitive nub.

‘harder,’ you plead, grabbing his ass and pushing him in; feeling the tip of his cock poking against your cervix.

‘what a dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?’ he coos, upping his pace. ‘begging me to fuck you like a little whore.’

you let out a groan as you feel him begin to pound you, each thrust increasing the pace. his fingers still rub deftly at your clit, which throbs with pleasure. you do have to admit; he is so good.

‘mhm…’ you sigh, head lolling back as he fucks you. ‘my father will kill you if he finds out.’

you decide to tell him—it’s too late for him to back out now, what, buried deep inside your cunt. he’s too struck by pleasure to think straight, at first, and so his answer is to merely laugh.

‘yeah? who’s he? don’t think he can tell a peacekeeper what to do,’ he grunts, cock pulsing with pleasure. god, you feel so good.

‘oh…’ a slight giggle escapes your lips, and you run your hand over his lower back. ‘you don’t know?’

he rears his head up, perplexed, brows furrowed. he’s still rutting into you, and you can see the shiny sweat beading on his forehead, his blue eyes glistening with confusion.

‘hm, bunny?’ he inquires.

‘well…’ an impish grin scampers across your lips. you trace circles in his skin. ‘you were wondering why i was here…’

he comes to a halt, causing you to frown. the expression on his face is one of pained loss of pleasure—having to cease his thrusts to clear his mind—and also slight fear, not that he’d never admit it. no, you couldn’t be. but he can see it, the eyes, the curve of your nose. you’re hoff’s daughter. of course. the one with the overly-friendly smile, who liked to wear her skirts too short as she waltzed past the peacekeepers.

‘oh bunny,’ he clucks his tongue in a scolding manner. ‘what would your father do if he knew you were begging for my cock like a little whore?’

your cheeks burn red, and he begins to thrust again. somehow, this has made him want you all the more. to have him see you being ruined by one of his own men—that would remind him that private snow was capitol. not just some pathetic district runt like the rest of the peacekeepers.

he pulls your legs up around his shoulders, adjusting the angle of his cock, and fucks into you like a common whore. you gasp at the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot—and you feel waves of pleasure coursing through your body, cunt throbbing and clenching around his big cock.

‘such a fucking slut, huh?’ he groans, feeling himself close to his peak. ‘taking peacekeeper cock while your daddy sits in his office just out there.’

you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders while he pounds you. you look like a such a whore, tits bouncing, cunt so fucking wet for him. how fucking pathetic. who would’ve thought commander hoff’s daughter took cock so well?

‘mhm!’ you gasp, slickness gushing from your cunt. nobody’s ever made you finish just by using their cock.

‘so good,’ he grunts, thrusts growing haggard as he nears his end.

your body is humming with adrenaline, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. he moves one hand up to your cheek, coaxing your mouth open. you oblige, and as he gives a fucked-out thrust into your cunt, spits into you mouth.

‘swallow,’ he manages to murmur out as he spills into you.

your cunt is filled with hot, sticky spurts of cum as he finishes, and you obediently swallow his spit. it makes your cunt throb with excess desire, and you have to bite your lip to stop another moan from spilling out.

‘fuck… so good,’ he groans as he slips out of you, his hot load dripping down your thighs.

he tucks himself back into his trousers, and goes to sit down beside you. you’re splayed out, cunt exposed and dripping from his load. you look so pretty, completely fucked dumb, eyes wide with the excess of your want.

‘what’s your father going to say about this?’ he laughs, rubbing his hand against your aching cunt. your body tenses up from the overstimulation.

‘he’d probably have you shot,’ you muster out, propping yourself up on your elbows.

he laughs, a rich sound escaping his mouth. you reach to grab your panties, which are bundled up on the sheets, still wet. he reaches out and stops your hand with his own, taking the panties from you. you pout, and try to reach for them back.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he remarks cruelly, tucking them in his back pocket. ‘something to remember you by.’

he presses a kiss against your cheek—you can’t help but blush even though your heart pounds at the thought of having to walk back to your house with no underwear.

‘please…’ you plead, bottom lip trembling. ‘i can’t walk home like this… my skirt…’

he shakes his head and chuckles, looking at you like you’re his. you shove your skirt down, ashamed to be laying like this.

‘i don’t think whores get much of a say in things,’ he cajoles, eyes glistening a little manically.

he delights in the thought of you being humiliated, having to pretend like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by a peacekeeper. he wonders what would happen if the wind decided to blow the wrong way…

‘i’ll tell my father about this!’ you threaten, but he only laughs again and throws his hands up in defence.

‘and let him know that you were so desperate that you let a peacekeeper fuck you?’ he scoffs. ‘i don’t think so, bunny.’

you feel your heart splintering a little—but two could play at that game, you supposed. you weren’t going to let him snap you up in his net.

‘you can come get them back next time,’ he grins.

your brows quirk up. you hadn’t intended on this happening again… but he was so handsome. and his cock was… well, huge. you did have to admit he was good. very good.

‘next time?’ your mouth rounds into a look of surprise.

‘oh yes, next time.’

#coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosbas #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #smut #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #the hunger games x reader #tbosbas x reader #female x reader #x reader #coriolanus snow smut #tbosbas fanfic #tbosbas smut #fanfic #drabble #request

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shewrites444 · 9 months

Text

arranged - part 2 [thomas shelby x reader smut]

[ this is part 2 of my first thomas shelby fic, arranged, which you can read through the link. i will say this storyline is a bit heavier in terms of tommy’s tv character, given he can be, well, toxic. also, this fic is like extremely detailed, just as a fair warning. ]

word count - 3.4k

[ summary - months after their wedding night, the reader and tommy experience their first real issue at arthur’s birthday dinner. there’s much more to their relationship than they realize, as they physically prove to each other how deep their affections go. ]

[ warnings - jealousy, accusations of cheating, dirty talk, slight bondage, unprotected & rough sex ]

shockingly, the morning after tommy and i first slept together, we grew much closer to each other, so much so that i had a trusted role through the peaky blinders when it came to their finances and arrangement of meetings. tommy was reluctant at first, but given that i was the reason they were five times wealthier and also had much more property now, my points were well made to him and his family.

i wouldn’t say i was bossy, but i knew what i wanted, and despite tommy’s attitude in front of his family, he sure seemed to like it when we were alone. i thoroughly believed i knew him pretty well, even if we had only been married for four months now.

i knew i didn’t want to be the type of woman who stayed back home and let their husband do all the work, but there were days where i was exhausted, wether it was from staying up late working on the money distribution, or making sure tommy’s son was asleep before the sun was up. overall, i wanted to work, and i wanted to have a place in not necessarily the peaky blinders, but his family, because they were now mine too, and truthfully, the only people i had now that my father was gone.

something polly and i agreed to work on together was arthur’s birthday dinner. i wasn’t very close to arthur, which was perfectly fine, but i wanted tommy’s family to know i cared. polly needed the help anyway, given how busy the boys had been lately, so i kept my promise to help her set up, plan the guest list, and get the gifts for arthur. from what tommy told me, he seemed to be having a rough time lately, but a party would probably cheer him up and help him get out of such a negative headspace, even if it was only for a few hours.

after we finished setting out the utensils, i rushed upstairs to get myself ready before tommy came home. part of me was hoping tonight wasn’t all about business for tommy, because while we had grown much more fond of each other lately, his mind was still so enclosed in his work. i knew we weren’t in love, but we had something there - more than just physically.

as i was slipping on my evening gown, i hear the bedroom door creak open, turning around to see tommy, who looked up to me with a drunken smile. my eyes widen a bit, more confused than shocked to see him in such a drunken state so early, as i walk towards him, helping him slip off his jacket onto the hanger next to the door.

“arthur insisted we start the party early. i promise this wasn’t intentional, [y/n]. i don’t want to be in too much trouble so soon with you.” tommy said through a suggestive smile, taking my face in one hand before pulling me into a kiss, the taste and smell of whiskey heavy against his lips.

i return his kiss, but lightly push him off of me, walking back to the dresser to grab my necklace from the jewelry box. tommy walks over and takes it from my hands, brushing my hair off my neck and clasping the metal for me. i smile softly, looking to him through the mirror and shaking my head in disbelief, amazed that he even agreed to get drunk so early in the evening.

“i may have to monitor you tonight, tommy. how many drinks have you had?” i question as i turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

i feel his hands slide down my back and to my ass, attempting to lift me onto the dresser before i stop him once again. i shake my head, pecking his lips again before pulling away. “that gives me a pretty clear answer.” i tease, leaning down to slip on my heels. “i didn’t think i’d have to be babysitter tonight, especially for my husband, the most serious man i know.”

“oh, [y/n], you and i both know i can loosen up when i choose to.” he took my hand and walked towards the door, opening it and gesturing for me to walk through first. he snaked his arm around my back, holding me tightly, and protectively, as we walked down the wooden stairs. “who knows, maybe i’ll loosen this tonight too.” he pats my ass, tugging at the fabric of my silk dress, which only made me blush at his suggestion. i roll my eyes and link our arms together, opening the front door to begin our short walk to the brewery.

a fairly large crowd of tommy’s family and friends were already there, surrounding the bar and drinking more alcohol than what i’d ever seen in my life. there was a side of tommy’s family i wasn’t fully exposed to yet, and i knew i’d receive quite the introduction to it tonight.

“there’s some people i’d like you to meet tonight. is that alright?” he asks in a more serious tone, despite his drunken appearance. even with alcohol in his system, tommy still knew how to conduct business, and the room around him.

i nod at his question, to where he then takes me to the bar and gestures me towards several people, business colleagues and family friends, who were all very kind to me, and addressed me never by my first name, only “mrs. shelby”.

i felt someone bump into me, averting my eyes from the woman i was speaking to and to none other than arthur, who was so drunk that i was almost surprised polly wasn’t having a nervous breakdown at the sight of the much more than tipsy birthday boy. i give him a soft smile and shake my head, taking his arm and helping guide him to one of the round tables.

“i think you need water, arthur. let me go get you one.” i say, standing up and staring to walk towards the bar again, before his hand unexpectedly grabs me by the waist, forcing me down onto his lap. my cheeks go red in the matter of a millisecond, immediate discomfort and anxiety rising to the surface.

“stop it, arthur, please. just let me go get you something to drink.”

arthur chuckles, keeping his grip so firm on my waist that i genuinely couldn’t get up without causing a scene. “[y/n], i always thought you were too good for tommy, from the day i met you. change it up a bit, eh? he wouldn’t mind it for a night.”

i scoff, glancing down to the drunk arthur before aggressively pushing myself off of him, taking the drink he was holding in one hand away and setting it on the table across from him.

“fuck off, arthur. you’re his brother. i know it’s your birthday, but i am the last thing you’d be getting as a gift tonight.” i run my hands down my dress to brush off the wrinkles his grip created. “sober up.”

i turn around and walk away with a quickening pace, opening the brewery door and heading back to the house. a part of me was hoping tommy didn’t see that because i knew he’d make a scene, and tonight wasn’t the night to cause any trouble.

i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cigarette, lighting it the second i sat down at the dining room table, sighing as i blew out the smoke and rested back into the chair. it wouldn’t leave my head, the whole situation. i knew i had to tell tommy because he’d be upset if he found it out from anyone but me, and i knew this was going to be some sort of trust test - if arthur was lying, or if i was. fuck. either way, i had to go back, or they’d be confused as to where i was, and the last thing i wanted tonight was for the attention to be on me.

walking back to the brewery with a cigarette in hand, i opened the door and returned to the reeking smell of alcohol. i wince as it hits my nostrils, forcing myself into the room that now felt so suffocating.

i feel a light tap on my shoulder and glance down to see polly, a frown on her face as she guides me to the corner of the room.

“you know have to tell me what happened, dear. i’ve got arthur in the other room, far away from tommy. i don’t think he’s aware of the whole situation, but arthur didn’t seem to help explain your side.”

i sigh, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “of course he didn’t. he tried being suggestive with me and pulled me onto him, made it look like something it definitely was not. i went back to the house to cool off. i don’t want tommy to think it was my doing. i would ne-”

“i know you wouldn’t.” polly gave me a small smile of reassurance. she look my hand and walked me towards the private room in the back, one part of the brewery that was set up more like a meeting room. “tommy’s in there, i think it’s best you go to talk to him. i know you’re being truthful, and i do think he believes you, dear, but he needs to hear it from you. not me.”

i nod, biting at my bottom lip as a pit began to form in my stomach, knowing that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. while i do think tommy believed me, or i at least hoped so, his image and my own was at stake. people who didn’t know me so well that saw arthur and i’s interaction may take me to be a cheater, and tommy to be carefree towards our marriage, even with his own brother coming into it. the entire situation wasn’t good for anyone.

i creak the wooden door open, meeting tommy’s eyes immediately upon entering the room. i shut it behind me and walk over, standing before the long table he was sitting at, silently. i sigh.

“you know i would never hurt you, tommy. he grabbed me, telling me he wanted me and that i was too good for you. you know i pushed myself off. i wouldn’t do that, ever.” i justify, crossing my arms and looking down at him as he stares at the table. “you, and your entire family, mean a lot to me. i would never want to put this arrangement, or us, in jeopardy.”

tommy sat up, walking towards me and reaching over to hug me softly, where i return his gesture by wrapping my arms around him tightly. i sigh, leaning my head onto his shoulder with relief. after a few seconds, he pulled away, grabbing me by the waist and helping me to sit on the table.

“you know how this looks for me, you, and my family though, right?” tommy begins, sliding up my dress, just enough for it to rest on my lower stomach. “i know you, [y/n], and i trust you, but members of the peaky blinders and others we work with don’t yet. they see you as more a placeholder for the void i haven’t been able to fill in years. do you understand that?”

i frown, looking up to tommy and reaching down to pull my dress back down. “tommy, that’s really not a nice thing to say to me. i don’t think anyone sees-”

“well, they fucking do.” he interrupts, grabbing my hands and setting them on the table.

he loosens his tie and pushes me down on my back, sliding the fabric off and onto my wrists, hastily tying them together above my head before pulling me down, my legs now fully hanging off the table, my heels falling down and onto the floor due to the angle i was laying at.

“you and i both know i don’t care much for what others think, but when it comes to this, to you, i care. you and i aren’t ever going to be perfect, but i think we have something, and i know you agree.” he says, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down, the sound of the metal clashing against the wooden floor. “we have more than just this,” he says, gesturing to our bodies, “but right now, i’m more focused on those people out there knowing at least apart of us is together.”

i gulp, a rapid heat forming in my core as i watch him undress himself into nothing but his half buttoned dress shirt. he pumps himself in one hand, the other reaching over to rub my clit, causing me to moan loudly upon touch.

he grinned at my response, looking between my legs and watching himself touch me. “you are mine, mrs. shelby. no one else’s. i know you know that, but it seems that i’ll have to prove it to everyone else in the world, too.” he walked closer, grabbing my panties that hung on one leg and slipping the off, before gesturing for me to open my mouth, shoving them inside.

“can you be quiet for just a few minutes, love? i don’t want to fuck you like a whore, but it seems that i have to.” he leaned down to kiss my forehead softly, lips then trailing to my ear. “if you can take it, i’ll let you have your fun with me after, hm? i’ve been so busy lately, we haven’t had much time together. i bet you want my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours, [y/n].”

i nod to my husband, feeling him grab my body and turn me around in response. he helps me to lean against the table, my arms still tied and now laying in front of me as i arch my back, pressing myself against tommy while he aligns himself with my pussy. i feel him slide inside me, moaning through the fabric in my mouth, as tommy does the same, but more freely, of course.

he grabs me by my waist, fucking me like there was no tomorrow for either of us. his hands hold my hips firmly, the sounds of our sweating skin slapping together filling the room, along with the accompaniment of my muffled moans. yet my mouth, being hung open, made my panties to fall out and onto the table, which only caused tommy to slap his hand harshly against my ass, making me yell at his touch.

“you really can’t control yourself, [y/n]? am i going to have to stop?”

“fuck - no, tommy, please don’t stop!” i shout, my hands flat against the table and my face resting on top of them while he rocked my body back and forth. “i-i can put them back, baby, just please don’t stop..”

“this isn’t like you, love, so fucking desperate.. although you always get what you want, so i can’t be surprised. are you getting fucked like you want? you like taking me from the back? it’s not your usual style.” he teases, reaching past me to grab the underwear, tossing them to the floor. “keep talking and they won’t have to go back. i never hear you like this, [y/n]. i like when you beg. i didn’t know you could act like such a slut.”

i shake my head, burying the side of my face into my hands as he only pushes himself deeper, his fast-paced strokes calming down and his rhythm changing into something so much slower, but so much deeper than before. i feel him in my gut, my eyes closing as i savor every thrust he gave me.

“i-i think about it like this, sometimes…” i mutter, leaning my head up and gasping, feeling tommy grab the back of my head with one hand. “you fucking me from behind, so fucking deep, practically torturing me through my orgasm… fuck, tommy, i want it to hurt so much that it feels good.. i want you to make me sore..”

tommy groaned, leaning down to angle himself in a way that he was so deep inside of me that his balls slapped against my clit with each movement. he wiped the sweat off his forehead before moving that hand to my ass, the other holding my waist firmly. “you have a way with words, don’t you, mrs. shelby? i can make it hurt, if that’s what you’d prefer. i can make all those people know how much my wife wants to be treated like a little slut.”

i blush, nodding at his words and resting my chin against the table. “fuck me like you own me, mr. shelby.”

“i think you’re going to have to prove yourself if you want me to do that, love.”

tommy slowly pulls himself out of me, my pussy rapidly pulsating as i adapts to his release, his hands helping assist me into leaning up and onto the floor, where he then laid on his back, erection in the air. i lay on top of him, where he unties the tie and sets it on the ground. he kisses me passionately, taking me by the waist and leaning me up.

“bounce on my cock until you can’t anymore, hm? you wanna hurt, right? this is the best way to do that.” he tilts his head, assisting me into sliding onto his length, causing both of us to heavily moan into the new position, which somehow, brought us both to an even better feeling than before.

“touch yourself for me, love. i wanna see how much you can take.” tommy commands, reaching over to hold both of my breasts, playing with the nipples as i move one hand down to my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as i grind on top of him, his cock hitting my insides perfectly.

i chew my bottom lip, looking down to tommy as i fuck him, nothing but a plain look that still displayed pleasure on his face, watching me move up and down, my fingers pressing onto my skin while he plays with my tits.

i felt like i was melting, so overstimulated that i wasn’t sure how much longer i could even move. my eyesight was clouded by the sweat on my eyelashes, my entire body drenched in sweat while i fucked my husband through my own touch, my orgasm climbing to the surface and in a matter of seconds, reaching its peak.

“fuck!” i moan, riding it out as i came, my own fluids mixing with tommy’s while he pushed himself up, the two of us thrusting at each other, our bodies clashing through each of our climaxes. i feel tommy fill my insides, my own fluids leaking from between us as he cock blocked anything further.

i pull myself off of him, his orgasm dripping from between my legs as i slowly stand up, holding the table as support, watching tommy walk over to hold me, kissing me gently and leaving love bites across my neck, and chest.

“i’d prefer our motivation to fuck like that not be caused by an outside source the next time, mrs. shelby. if you want to be fucked like a whore, just say it. i think you know i don’t mind.” he grinned, kissing my forehead before walking over to a cart of drinks, grabbing a few towels and sitting me on the table, starting to wipe down my body.

“i don’t think i can be fucked like that for some time, tommy. i don’t think i’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.” i blush, watching him slide the towel down my inner thighs to wipe himself off of me. “we’ve been gone for awhile anyway, don’t you think we should get back to the party?”

“in just a minute, [y/n].” tommy says, setting the towel down before spreading my legs a bit further. he kisses between my thighs, before gently rubbing my clit, causing my back to arch at the touch. “i think my wife needs to cum again, don’t you think?”

i sigh, leaning back against the table and holding the sides of it. “fuck, tommy.” i moan feeling his arms wrap around my thighs, his face now buried between my heated skin. “i think so, too.”

#smut writing #cillian murphy #fanfic #smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby peaky blinders #peaky blinders x y/n #female #female reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby smut

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giuliettagaltieri · 2 months

Text

Shower of Gold

Pairing: Dad!Coriolanus Snow x Mom!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Mother

Warning: warming up to parenthood

Word Count: 2874

6 of 7

When Aurelius Hyperion Swansworth-Snow was born, Coriolanus’ world just got a whole lot bigger.

He never thought he could love another the same as he loved you. But he did.

Little Harper, as you would call him, looked exactly like his father. The same golden curls and piercing blue eyes. His cheeks were fat and pink as he babbled.

And just like his father, Little Harper loved you very much.

You have never been without Harper. To the point that it often puts a strain on the intimate relationship you had with your husband. But one pointed stare from you would let Coriolanus loosen his possessive hold on your waist, often looking like a kicked puppy as he sulks the entire night, sleeping with his back turned to you.

But with a wet kiss and a chubby hand slapping his cheek awake in the mornings, his brooding dissipates and he gladly accepts his little boy’s affections.

“Good morning, daddy.” You say as your son claps his hands excitedly.

Coriolanus blinks his eyes as he looks at you, the sleepy fog is yet to leave his head but it does not stop him from seeing just how beautiful you are. You are still in your sleeping gown, your hair disheveled, and your eyes still droop with sleepiness. He believes it was at moments like this when he loves you the most. When his mind is empty and your smiling face is the first thing that enters his head.

“Good morning.” He drawls and he turns to his son who was nibbling at his deltoid that was the size of the kid’s head. He looks at the string of saliva that webbed on his arm. “That’s unsanitary.”

You scoff at your husband, cooing at your baby the next second. “He just misses his daddy. Don’t you, Harper?”

Harper looks at you curiously, bringing his chubby fist to his mouth. You lay your head to Coriolanus’ chest as you coo at him. Harper was unsure what you were doing but the happiness on your face brought forth a toothless smile from him.

He receives a smooch to his cheek from you and absentmindedly, Coriolanus puts his large hands to your baby’s face.

Your baby’s eyes cross as he keeps his eyes on your husband’s enormous hand.

Before you can ask what he is doing, Coriolanus gently pushes him down to the pillow that supports his back.

You shriek in mortification, your baby blinks at the ceiling, not quite processing what has happened. You swat at your husband’s chest as you get up to help your son to sit back up.

“I am so sorry, baby. Daddy’s such a horrible man, isn’t he?” You coo to your baby who is yet unsure whether he should be laughing or crying. “Daddy, you bully!” You accuse him as you pat your baby’s leg gently.

He only looks at you blankly, making you sigh and lean down to plant a kiss to his awaiting lips. He always gets so cranky in the early mornings.

“Now, get up.” You say as you rub his chest. Coriolanus grunts as he gets out of bed, stretching like a cat as he yawns. He ruffles Harper’s blonde curls before leaving you to take a shower.

He was already halfway through his coffee when you arrived with Harper now freshly bathed.

Coriolanus looks at Harper as you place him on the high chair.

“We have a meeting today.” Coriolanus reminds you as he keeps his eyes trained on his son.

You nod. “Yes, I studied the report last night.”

“Harper?” He sips his coffee as he reads the recent reports about the new District 12 mayor.

You chuckle knowingly as you nuzzle your nose against Harper’s. “Little Harper’s coming with mommy, of course.” He giggled as his fingers were quick to grab at your clothes.

Coriolanus smiles in his seat after he stole a glance at you.

“One wail and he’s out.”

“Oh, honestly!” You have taken offense for your boy but Coriolanus challenges you with his own stern gaze. “So mean.” You mutter as you start feeding Harper with baby food.

Your husband puts the papers away and starts his breakfast. “I just did not want you to look unprofessional.”

“Corio?”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

His eyes narrow before he returns to his breakfast.

A scowl was painted on your face the entire breakfast and you refused to talk to him anymore. Responding with nods and silence to his attempt to start another conversation.

Coriolanus knows that he might have offended you deeply.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you wipe Harper’s face with the bib.

You respond by getting up and scooping your son in your arms, your chin raised as you carry yourself with elegance. The baby bag was waiting to be picked up by you in the corner but Coriolanus beats you to it.

He walks ahead of you, the baby bag slung on his shoulder and his briefcase on his other hand. You quietly follow him, not acknowledging him when he opens the doors for you, one leading out of your mansion and the other to your car.

Coriolanus waits by the backseat, just next to Harper’s car seat. He had to pick it personally. It was heavily padded, bulky enough to put you at ease, knowing that your baby will be protected should anything happen.

“I’ll strap him in.” He offers as he fixes the aviators resting on his nose as he looks past your head.

Coriolanus is a proud man, you understand this is his way of apologizing.

You kiss Harper’s nose and you place him in your husband’s secure hold.

In the meantime, you buckle yourself in the passenger seat.

Coriolanus soon joins you in front and he starts the car after securing his seatbelt.

The silence was loud, had it not been for Harper’s babbles, you would have been tempted to turn the radio on. You choose to review your itinerary for the day when a warm hand sneaks to your thigh and you feel Coriolanus’ thumb brushing it in a soothing manner.

“Apologize properly.” You quip.

“Y/N please.” He says tiredly.

“No. I want you to say you are sorry.”

He wets his lips with his tongue and his jaw tightens as he keeps his eyes on the road, the leather cladding the wheel creaks under his grip.

When he refuses to do it, you return to your schedule.

“I’m sorry.”

You keep your eyes on the piece of paper attached to your planner and your husband groans as he leans back in his chair, his head resting on the support.

“I’m sorry for antagonizing our son.” He squeezes your thigh. “And for insulting you. I know you are more than capable in balancing both your duties to Panem and our family.”

Finally, your rouge painted lips spread to a small smile.

“You are forgiven.” You place your hand over his. The glint of the rings on your finger easing his anxiousness a bit more.

Harper yaps and Coriolanus grins. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry, I’m not stealing mommy.”

You press a knuckle to your lips, not wanting to laugh as your son takes quick offense in being left out. You try to keep your voice down as you turn to your husband. “I’ll make time for us later, I promise.”

He brings your hand to his lips to kiss and quickly lets you go as Harper yaps angrily.

The moment you enter the presidential mansion, one you use only for official business, Harper understands that he cannot be fussy anymore. He was seated on your lap, nibbling on a fruit pacifier as a man talked while pointing at the bright square behind him. The moving objects greatly entertained the baby on your lap.

Harper recognizes your voice and looks up. He pulls the pacifier from his mouth when your tone sharpens. The boy’s blond crinkle together as his lips jut out when the unknown man responds to you with anger.

The other people in the room also seem to be angry at the person standing and Harper leans back on your stomach knowing that his mommy is not alone. But the man is suddenly pointing at you and to him, the poor innocent boy. Harper grunts and looks at his father angrily.

“Da!”

Coriolanus, who was leaning to the side with his legs crossed, looked at his son. He brings a finger to his lips and Harper huffs.

“You are failing to see things objectively.” Coriolanus says to the man who was starting to sweat under the disapproving eyes of everyone present in the room. “The Lady did not dismiss your idea because she was biased to infants. Your idea was dismissed as administering a vaccine to the younger population of Panem without having it thoroughly tested could be catastrophic. We are talking about large scale mortality.”

The man laughs and Harper presses himself closer to you, disturbed by the behavior.

“Why do you care, Mister President? They’re just Districts!”

Coriolanus nods, finally understanding the argument of this man. He had suspicions but he wanted the man to say it.

“Districts.” Coriolanus grins sardonically. “Do you plan to instigate a second rebellion?”

The man is tongue-tied, he makes wild gestures but fails to keep his argument. “Exaggeration.” He laughs nervously.

“When their children start dying off, will they not fight back?” Coriolanus asks. “And a rebellion does not happen overnight.” He adds. “It is because of the piling up missteps made by men like you.” Harper slams his chubby hand on the desk to show he is on his father’s side. “Thank you, Harper. And who will suffer when that happens?”

The man looks at his feet in shame. The backlash could be severe. The crops and livestock sent to the Capitol could be poisoned. The Capitol could be powered down when all the system shuts off.

Countless possibilities and consequences could take place after one wrong decision.

“But I understand that this vaccine is important.” Coriolanus sighs. “Send it back to the lab. Study it further for possible adverse reactions. I will not give the greenlight until you are able to tell me the mechanism of action of this vaccine without looking at your notes.”

As the men file out of the room, you sit Harper on the hard wood table as you clean up your desk. “I cannot believe the cabinet let this man reach your office. He was unprepared.” You say and Harper continues to chew on his pacifier, the crushed cherries inside needs replacing.

Coriolanus agrees with you and scoops Harper off the table, the little boy draws his arms and chin over his father’s shoulder to check if you are close by. “Shall we go, my love?”

You nod and you stand on your tippy toes to press a kiss on Harper’s cheek as you lean on Coriolanus for support.

The next event is the annual summit, where Coriolanus is expected to give a speech involving the latest reports and advancements made by Panem’s Capitol based research facility and what plans lie ahead.

In the ceremony, the Lady Justice was often a symbolic figure that was ever present. Only this time, a sword seems to have gone missing in the smaller statue that is kept in the Presidential mansion’s reception hall.

“This is a disgrace.” Your husband tells the staff who were in charge of the events. “How could something so essential be misplaced?”

Harper was getting fussy in your arms at the sight of his father so agitated.

It seemed rather insignificant but having it missing is a blatant display of disrespect.

Your mind races for possible solutions.

You can talk to the media to cut the view of the Lady Justice.

Or perhaps you can have the entire statue be carried out of the room, no that would cause too much commotion.

And then it hits you.

“Corio.” You call and he reluctantly heads your way. “The sword in your office.”

Harper pulls at Coriolanus’ tie and nibbles. Your husband gently pulls the fabric, ignoring the wet stain as he processes your words.

“I think it might be the perfect size.” He rubs his chin. “I’ll go send someone to get it.”

You put a firm hand on his chest and he pauses.

“Harper and I will come get it.” You smile at him reassuringly. “It’s only a few floors up. And the peacekeepers stationed in your office will let me through and out with no hitches.”

Coriolanus wanted to protest but you were right.

You would be most efficient for the task.

“I can watch Harper.” He offers but you shake your head.

“Relax for now. Harper is going to help mommy get the sword.”

Coriolanus smiles tiredly and he presses his forehead against yours, his large hand placed on Harper’s back protectively.

“Da.” Harper calls and Coriolanus chuckles and snaps his fingers, an Avox places a pair of aviators to his hands, one he previously wore, and he puts it on Harper.

You often do this when you expect a lot of camera flashes. You would hate to overwhelm your baby.

“Still can’t believe that’s his first word when he’s such a momma’s boy.” Your husband says, making you smile affectionately.

You give him one last look before you rush out of the room with Harper in your arms. Camera flashes from the reporters follow after you.

The guests are already arriving and the main media companies are setting up their equipment. You have no time to lose.

Harper was such a good kid, not fussing as he clung to you when you rushed to the office of your dear husband.

As expected, the peacekeepers stationed outside the doors let you through without even asking about your business to be in the office.

You easily spot the sword on the side. It hasn’t been removed from the position you first saw it in back at the inauguration of Coriolanus as President.

“You beauty.” You smile as you easily grab it from the bracket mounted on the wall. Harper made an attempt to touch it but you were quick enough to pull it away from him. “This is dangerous, sweetheart.” You easily slip it inside the scabbard as you refuse to take any chances for Harper.

The peacekeepers stationed outside the presidential office were oriented about what happened and gladly reopened the door for you and Harper.

People moved out of the way as they saw the sword on your hand and the baby on the other. You have your chin held high as you enter the hall. Coriolanus stopped mid sentence while talking to Strabo Plinth at the sight of you.

“Oh, good Heavens!” Mrs. Plinth exclaims and approaches you with concern. You looked rather dangerous with the enormous weapon in your hand. Harper smiles brightly when he sees her and he raises his arms, wanting to be picked up by the woman. Mrs. Plinth cups her mouth, touched by the little boy’s behavior. You gladly hand her your son.

Grandmotherhood is a privilege stolen from her.

Mr. Plinth was smiling at you when you approached him and your husband.

“She saves the day.” He tells Coriolanus who nods with a proud look in his eyes.

You give Coriolanus the sword and he steps on the ladders to place the sword on the empty hand of the Lady Justice.

“Justice is restored.” The former President, Maximinius Ravinstill, claps his hand and the rest of the crowd rises from their seats to applaud you and Coriolanus. Justice was not something that could have easily been lost after the disappearance of a sword but The Lady Justice was an important symbolic figure not just to Corso but to Panem.

That night, you are in your shared bedroom. You are resting your back on the headboard, your tired back being cushioned by enormously large pillows while your son has fallen asleep from nursing on your ample bosom.

You are humming a soft tune, your feet moving to the melody when Coriolanus enters. He is yet to change his clothing as he was still in his dress pants and shirt that has a few buttons undone.

“Your grand entrance overshadowed the event.” He grins as he shows you the paper. There in the headlines, a picture of you with Harper held on one arm and sword on the other.

“Oh, Corio.” You frown apologetically. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He scoffs, the smile remaining on his face. “Everybody loved it! They forgave the errors I mentioned as they were so enamored by you.”

You are not certain how to respond but he shows you the photo once more.

“Look at Harper.” He says excitedly. “Grandma’am sent a photo of mine when I was still a toddler and he looks exactly just like me.”

You are not certain if Coriolanus was aware of the smitten look on his face but you dare not point it out as you listen to him talk about the photos and Harper.

Coriolanus might act indifferent to his son at times but he cannot deny the fact that Harper has him wrapped around his chubby little finger.

Quest for Happiness

News Article

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunt for glory #quest for happiness #dad coriolanus

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lilywastaken · 10 months

Text

— Simon helps reader with getting ready.

> This blurb is part of my series — MÉNAGE !

CW: Talks of poor body image, stretch marks, scars.

"'Necklace looks nice."

"You think?" You mumbled, staring at yourself in the mirror as you clipped the back. "It's weird, dressing up."

After all, it'd been a long time since you'd spent so long on your makeup or appearance, having given up mostly on cosmetics ever since you became a mother. Which made you all the more excited to do your makeup again, properly, not just the curling and mascara or gloss you'd rush when going out, a full-face of makeup, even if it was just for drinks with a few friends.

"Goes with the dress." Simon offered after a moment of silence, clearly having gone quiet in hopes of coming up with a compliment that didn't sound so bland, but said what he'd originally thought at the beginning as bland as it was, not knowing much about fashion.

"Yeah, I suppose." You snorted, looking down at the short skirt of the dress and trying to pull it down slightly to cover some of the stretch marks that threatened to show. "...maybe I should wear tights or something."

"Why?" Simon grunted, turning to look at you from his spot on your bed, Tommy rolling around in a few blankets next to him, playing with some of his father's fingers. "'S not going to be cold tonight."

"Yeah, but…" you pushed yourself out of your chair, turning around to show yourself to the blond, letting his eyes scan your body from head to toe, lingering slightly on the cleavage showing thanks to the low cut. "Look."

"I am."

"No! Here!" Your hands came down to rest on your thighs, bringing his attention to the plush parts of your legs. "They look ugly."

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, scanning your skin in hopes of finding what you had deemed "ugly", findinging nothing. "What looks ugly?"

"The scars!" You whined, hands landing on your stomach and prodding at your tummy. "I mean… I got them after Tommy, they're all over my body, they kind of just… don't look good."

Simon outstretched a hand out to you, bringing you closer to the bed when you immediately took it, helping you kneel down on the mattress and collapse against his side, snuggling into his warmth as his arms enveloped you.

"I think they look good, lovie." He mumbled against the top of your head, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into your arm. "'Reminder of what you did. Of what you made. 'Bit corny, but it's true."

"I know… it's just… Weird. I don't know how to explain it, Si…" you sighed, running your own fingers over his covered chest.

"If you don't feel comfortable showing them, there's no shame in covering up. Not going to try and force you to go out like that if you don't want to. Just remember you don't have to feel disgusted by them." He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, making sure to avoid your makeup in hopes of not ruining it.

"Yeah… I guess." You mumbled, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of his lips against your skin. "Just… nervous... Maybe I should just stay-"

"No. C'mon." Simon grunted, grabbing you by the hips and pushing you up and off the bed, leaning back against the array of pillows behind him. "You promised them."

"You really want me to go, huh?" You sighed, letting a cheeky smile pull at your lips as he looked down at you with an arched brow, trying to figure out if you were being serious with your accusation or not. But when he did, he let out a huff, rolling his eyes before squeezing you tighter, making you let out a string of giggles.

"Yeah. Fuckin' hate your guts. Been waiting for you to leave forever." He mumbled, contradicting his teasing words as he continued to press kisses against your face, relishing in the way your nose scrunched up and your eyes shone when he leaned back to gaze into them. "Go on then. Get on with it."

"Yeah, yeah." You laughed, rolling your eyes at him before slapping at his chest playfully, batting your eyelashes at him. "Hate you too, Si."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley #— ménage

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 3 months

Text

John Wayne (Bandit cowboy! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader) Part 1

Hiii! Inspired by the song of the same name by lady Gaga, and these two(flash warning for this one) edits of Predo Pascal(🤭) Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, making out, pet names, Miguel being a big ass flirt, slight nsfw but no smut. Mentions of hanging and death Lowkey highkey very cheesy and cliché but in a fun way.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.1k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Bandits, cowboys, shoot outs, saloon fights, all things you’ve heard rumors about the Wild West while you lived in the city. Your classmates telling you stories they’ve heard from a long distance relative or from a friend of a friend of a friend.

But as you sit down at your fathers office at his new job, you couldn’t help but think that all those stories were nothing more than that. Stories. Lame, boring, make-believe stories. Who would have know that being the sheriff’s daughter in a dum-fuck nowhere town would have been so uneventful, on an exciting day, he’d lock up a drunk. You wish your parents had just stayed on the east coast as you let out an exasperated huff, dropping your pencil on your school workbook, and you lean back in his chair, letting your eyes wander to the ceiling.

“Alright O’Hara,” The muffled sound of your father’s voice was heard from the outside of the door, followed by some clinking. Causing you to sit in the chair properly before he appeared through the door. “Ima need you to sit tight in this cell for a few days ‘til the state sheriff is able to get down here and give me your reward money.”

To your surprise, a man in cuffs came through the door first. Your eyes widened in silent curiosity as you studied the new mystery man. You've never seen him in town before, because you were certain you would have remembered a man as handsome as him.

He’s getting arrested by my father what the fuck is wrong with me?

Your father didn’t acknowledge your presence, but that didn’t stop the other man’s eyes from falling onto you immediately. The definition of tall, dark and handsome, a towering frame, tan skin, semi-permanent wrinkles in between his brows and at the end of his lips, in indication he scowls too much, and his muscles, they could easily snap you in half if he wanted to. Dark worn out blue jeans, dust brown cowboy boots, a black hat, a flannel that emphasizes his arms with ever movement and-fuck he caught you staring. Warmth flared all over your face as you finally tore your gaze from his, barely catching the small smirk and hmph he let out in amusement. How could he not? When his captor’s daughter is checking him out.

It seems your father didn’t catch your wandering eyes, but he sure as hell caught his mischievous look in his, the rage quickly filling his face as he tossed the larger man in the cell quickly after taking off his cuffs. Locking him in before pointing an accusing finger at him with his right hand, while his left gripped the iron bars tight enough for his knuckles to turn white as he spoke. “Don’t speak to my daughter, don’t look at my daughter, don’t even think about my daughter.” He hissed the threat, before turning over to face you, visibly relaxing as his tone softened. “Ima step out of the room to make a few calls. Yell if he causes you any trouble darlin’.” You nodded, your fathers eyes traveled down to your abandoned work, “And finish your school work, you’re lucky to be attending college.” He added before leaving the room, an uncomfortable silence falling on you and the unknown crook. Keeping your eyes glued to your notebook despite your mind being elsewhere.

“So.” He finally spoke after cleaning his throat, moving to lean against the iron bars of his enclosure. “What’s your name preciosa?” He asked, his head tilting and his lips twitched upwards as he watched you. (Sweetie)

“My father told you not to talk to me.” You fumbled out almost too quickly, the words coming out rushed and almost panicked much to your dismay. Your face warmed up once more as you could feel his eyes bore into you, your eyes remained downwards, your hands balled into fist on your lap as you try not to think about him watching you as if you were in a cage and not him. You were certain if you met his gaze your combust into flash hotter than the sun.

He let out an unamused laugh, shifting his head forward as three of his fingers went to grab the rim of his cowboy hat, taking it revealing his disheveled brown locks, slightly wavy from being covered.

“Does it look like I’m the type to listen to authority, sweetheart?” God the nicknames were making you weak in the knees.

“Well, no-“

“Come on gorgeous,” He cooed, “indulge me.”

You bit on your bottom lip as you mentally battled with the idea, your father probably wouldn’t like the idea, but if it’s just your name, then what’s the harm right?

With a small sigh, you finally gain the courage to meet his gaze, almost dropping it immediately when you notice the look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way your kitten looks at a loose mouse. Like he would pounce on you if he wasn't confined.

“It’s…It’s (Y/N).” You finally utter, it came out meek, soft, you hated how it almost made you sound weak. His brow raised as he brought his hand up to cup around his ear, a silent way of asking you to speak up, but you could tell by the way his smirk pulled up he definitely heard you. With a huff and an eye, you repeat your name, with more confidence this time.

He released a low whistle as his hand dropped again, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to giggle at the compliment or roll your eyes at the cheesiness, his accident drawing out a bit more while emphasizing beautiful both times. You went with both.

“What’s your name?”you asked, getting up from the chair you were sitting in and making your way towards the cell, not too close but close enough for him to reach for your hand and gently raise it towards his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it, it made your whole body tingle as he threw you a quick wink and a playful smirk.

“Names’ Miguel O’Hara, but you can call me Mig.”

—

Your father had informed you that Miguel would be stuck with him for a few weeks, due to the state chief being preoccupied with the bounty on Jesse James’s head, they were close to changing him apparently and he had all his attention on him at the moment. When Miguel was informed he only scoffed and grumbled, seemingly moody that he wasn’t top priority. You found it funny, it’s as if he wanted a bigger prize money attached to him, coming out a few thousand short of the other man.

You would never admit it, not to your friends, not to your mother and especially not to your father, but you couldn’t help but grow a bit fond of the cowboy. It’s cliché you know, the daughter of a cop falling for the outlaw but it’s hard not too when he’s always complimenting you or calling you pet names, and he knew how to hold a good conversation.

You’ve never acted out too much with your parents before, always did good in school, never snuck out, never went out to meet boys that didn’t ask for permission beforehand. So when you caught yourself sneaking at your father’s work keys in the late hours of the night to sneak out of the house and into the station to talk to the man whose mere existence cost more then the pure-breed horse you took from the stall every night to visit, it was invigorating but also utterly terrifying in the chances of you getting caught. Despite your initial fear, it didn’t mean you didn’t start to get sloppy.

Both with sneaking out, and with the cowboy.

—

A yawn escaped Miguel’s chapped lips as he lazily rubbed his face, trying to fight off sleep as he shifted around in his overly small bed, the only light source he had was the beams of pale moonlight that was seeping from his barred window. Heavy eyelids began to close when they suddenly snapped open at the familiar sound of keys jangling and the rattling of the doorknob opening.

“Took you long enough gatita, though you forgot about me.” Miguel spoke as he watched you with once tired eyes that were now filling with a different emotion as he watched you place your hand lamp on your father’s desk before you head over to him, keys in hand. Although the words seem like a joke, his tone was low and anything but humorous. (Kitten)

“Had to make sure my family was asleep.” You attempted to justify yourself as you unlock his door, not even getting a second to put the keys back in your dress pocket before Miguel grabbed you and pulled you into his room, his mouth greeting yours in a hot needy kiss. The keys drop to the wooden floor with a loud clunk as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and your fingers tug at the small curls at the back of his neck, only causing him to let out a groan at the pleasurable pain.

You too have been at it for about a week now, ever since your father informed you that the state sheriff would finally head down to your town to take Miguel of of his hands, he would arrive tomorrow morning, meaning tonight was your last with Miguel. He would be taken back to the state capital to be hung the following week.

“Ima miss these sweet lips darlin’…” He mumbled between peppering kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone. A whine leaving your swollen lips you felt his large hands undo the buttons that cover your chest, leaving another dark hickey on you , before stopping for a second to admire his work. Seven hickeys, one for each day.

Your hands followed his lead, going under his sleeping shirt, wandering against his toned stomach, before he quickly pulled it off, turning you both around so your back was against the wall.

“Can’t get enough of you...”

“Me either…”

“Don’t forget about me (Y/N).”

“I won’t Miguel.”

Your lips quickly reunited with his as he started to drag the cotton fabric down from around your shoulders when the sound of the door office slamming opened caused you both to jump away from each other, a startled yelp escaped from you as you go to over your exposed breast.

Your eyes quickly darted to see who had opened the door, only to felt a lump build in your throat at the sight of your seething father, red face with anger as his shoulders rise and fell rapidly with each erratic breath he took.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter!” He roared as he started to near the cell, making you quickly exit it, closing the door before standing in front of it so he couldn’t get to Miguel. “And you.” His eyes dropped to meet yours, anger, disappointment, betrayal, emotions you’ve never seen him directly towards you, it only made your throat tighter and your stomach drop. “I expect better from you. Do you know how many trains and banks he’s robbed! How many people he’s killed! I don’t want anyone like that near my daughter-“

“But father, I love him!”

Love. You’ve never once said that about a man in your life, you blurted it out without so much as a second thought. But it felt right.

This only made your father scoff. Not even caring about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You don’t know a thing about love.” He muttered in a low tone that made a shiver run down your back, his eyes narrowing down at you before gripping your forearm as he began to drag you out of his office, despite your best attempts to pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter either way. Tomorrow he’ll be gone, and next week he’ll be dead. You’ll never see him again.” He finished as he dragged you fully out of the building and back towards home, not showing one ounce of pity despite your cries making his heart ache.

—

Once he was alone, Miguel ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He couldn’t even have one last night with you before he’d leave your life forever. A heavy sigh turning into a panic curse when he went to lean against the stall door and to find it not support his body weight as it usually would. Stumbling a bit to regain his balance, it only took him a few seconds to realize that, in your father’s angry rampage, he had forgotten to relock his cell.

—

Taglist: @loser-alert

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #cowboy Miguel O’Hara #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #cowboy miguel x reader #cowboy Miguel O’Hara x reader #cowboy!miguel

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jayybugg · 4 months

Text

locker room activities

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco hates you.....or so you thought.

Warning: Language, Slight Time Skips, Kinda Asshole Draco (?), Smut (18+), No Specific House Mentioned, Use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.6K

Note: Hi, here I am back again with another fic. It's not song-based this time, just my feral thoughts taking over for Draco. As always, thank you @pizzaapeteer for proofreading and @cafekitsune for the banner! Enjoy!

Draco Malfoy hated you.

You weren’t sure why, but you also didn't care enough to find out. In fact, you found amusement in seeing the blonde make a fool out of himself to prove his superiority. The glares he shot your way only made you giggle to yourself as you just simply ignored them majority of the time. But seeing him get riled up even more by your unbothered state always made your day.

"Another day of being an idiot, Malfoy?" you smiled lazily down at him sprawled out on the ground, his failed potion covering him.

"This is your fault! You charmed my potion to explode!" Draco shot to his two feet, glaring at you. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused at what he was even talking about. "Charmed your potion? I just got here.” you paused for dramatics. “After it exploded." You rolled your eyes at the stupidity of his accusation

"All you do is get under my skin and annoy me, Y/L/N." Draco snapped at you.

"I don't even do anything to you!" You felt your anger boil. This boy practically borderlines harasses you every day, but somehow, he was the victim? Makes sense coming from Draco.

"You do a lot of things to me!" Draco yelled at you. The chuckles from his table of friends was enough to turn him red and send him storming out of the classroom.

"Bloody hell is his problem?" You muttered to yourself, sitting down at the desk to start your potion.

You didn't see Draco for the rest of the day, figured that he probably skipped class and called his father to complain or try to get you kicked out of school. You soaked up the peace as much as you could.

"Madam Pince? Do you know where this book may be? I need it for my ancient runes class." You handed the woman a piece of paper with the title scribbled across it.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy checked it out." She returned the paper to you. You groaned softly. Of course, that imbecile had the book that you needed. "Granted, it's overdue, so he needs to return it. Why don't you go get it from him?" Madam Pince asked, looking over her glasses.

You knew this was her way of getting you to do her job. It was a known fact to everyone that Madam Prince hated to deal with Draco and the rest of his family.

You sighed, grabbing your stuff to go track down the blonde. You really needed that damn book. "Okay, I got it."

Luna was the first to see you, her smile staying wide. "Hey, Y/N!" she waved at you. Pansy turned at your approach and smiled at you. "Hey, what brings you here?"

"I was looking for you, actually." You leaned against the wall next to the girls. "I hate to interrupt the date, but I need your help, Parkinson."

"With what?" she raised her eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

"Got any idea where Malfoy is?"

Pansy's eyes widened in surprise. "Why are you looking for Draco?"

"Don't get any ideas, Pans. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince told me to get it from him because it's overdue." You poked the girl's forehead, making Luna laugh and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I was just surprised, that's all." Pansy defended herself, "He should be at quidditch practice, but by the time you get to the field, it'll probably be over and you'll have to wait till he comes out of the locker room."

"Okay, thanks! Bye, lovebirds." You waved the two girls goodbye, making your way over to the field.

Just like Pansy had said, by the time you got down to the field the practice was over. You stood by the entrance, hoping to catch Draco when he left and prayed that he had the book on him by any chance.

"Waiting for a hot date, y/n?" Mattheo asked, walking out with Theo as they exited the locker room first, surprised to see you waiting there.

"I wish." You rolled your eyes. "Waiting for Malfoy. He has a book that I need and Madam Pince has me doing her dirty work.”

"Ahhhh." Mattheo and Theo said, simultaneously grinning at you.

"What?" you raised an eyebrow at them.

"Oh nothing. This should be the highlight of his day." Theo smiled, patting your head. The two walked off, leaving you confused.

You continued to wait for Malfoy, watching the rest of the Slytherin team clear out of the locker room. After about another 20 minutes of waiting, you grew tired.

"What the fuck is he in there doing? His everything shower?" you muttered. You looked around at the empty hallway before sighing and pushing open the locker room door.

The locker area was completely empty, making you intensely bitter that Draco was probably in the shower. You walked up to his ajar locker to see all the quidditch equipment and no sign of your book.

"Of course, the asshole doesn't have it on him." You rolled your eyes. You looked around for any sign of him, but you didn't see him.

You walked closer to the showers, hearing water running. "Malfoy??" you called out, receiving a dead answer.

He had to be in here. He was the only one who didn't leave the locker room. You moved closer to the entrance of the shower seeing Draco lean against the wall of the shower with water dripping down him.

You eyed his physique slowly. Sure, the boy was annoying but Merlin, he was fine.

You couldn't pay too much attention to his physique because your eyes and mind finally registered what he was doing and saying.

"Fuck, Y/N. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck." Draco cussed, throwing his head back as he jerked himself off. Your eyes widened as you heard your name spill out his mouth. Was Draco getting himself off to the thought of you?

You cleared your throat loudly. Draco's eyes shot open to see you standing at the entrance and taking in his naked form.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck are you doing in here?" Draco scrambled to turn the shower off and grab his towel.

"Well, I've been looking for you for probably the past hour or so." You said, your eyes staying trained on him.

"Looking for me? Why?" Draco asked. He glanced around the showers and out to the locker room, "Is nobody in here?"

"No, they all left 20 minutes ago. Getting ready for dinner, I assume." You walked closer to Draco, who was unconsciously backing away from you.

You had never seen Draco look scared, almost as if he wasn't sure what to do.

He looked like prey and you were the predator.

"W-why were you looking for me?" Draco asked again, as you continued to close the distance between you both.

You ignored his question, using this advantage to tease him. "How many times have you gotten off to the thought of me?"

Draco gripped his towel tighter, "Don't be foolish, Y/N. I don't get off to you. Never have and never will."

"I just saw you, Malfoy." You rolled your eyes, looking down at his dick, "And judging by how hard you are, I can guess that maybe this isn't the first time."

"Shit, you can see it through the towel?!" Draco clutched the towel closer to him to cover up the print, "Y/L/N, I'm begging you to just go and never speak about this again."

"Begging? That's new for you." A devilish smirk took over your features as you took a step closer to him. Draco felt his heart start to pound in his chest. You looked ready to devour him.

"Is this why you said I do a lot of things to you?" You dragged your finger down his bicep, pushing him against the wall.

A part of Draco was embarrassed that he got caught like this but the other part of Draco was getting so turned on that if he was given the chance to have his way, then he was going to take it.

"All this time, you've been so aggravated with me," Your hand fondled with the fabric of the towel that wrapped around his waist, "And it was all because of your dirty little fantasies."

"Y/N, please...." Draco's voice was soft and desperate. It was music to your ears.

"Please what?" You leaned in to lick softly at his neck, "Come on, use your words. Where's that big voice of yours from earlier?"

Draco didn't even know what he wanted to say. He couldn't decide if he wanted you to free him or to just have your way with him.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Malfoy." You whispered into his ear as you continued to tug at his towel.

"Fuck." He was done. Any shred of self-respect or restraint that he had was gone. Demolished. Non-existent.

"I'm waiting." you said in a sing-song voice. You were enjoying this.

"Suck me off. Please." Draco said.

You grinned, tugging his towel down and going to your knees. You licked your lips as you eyed his dick that was harder than you thought it was.

You coated your hand in spit, pumping him before you licked the length of him slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip, listening to Draco groaned deeply, his hands finding their way into your hair.

"Stop teasing." Draco muttered, looking down at you.

"But it's fun." You batted your eyes up at him.

That look alone almost made him cum. Draco gave you a grunt in response. You smiled, taking him in your mouth, and quickly got to work.

The lewd and slobbery sounds you were making with Draco's cock filling your mouth mixed with his moans and grunts caused your pussy to drench your panties. You reached around to the front of your school skirt and played with yourself as you continued to suck him off.

"Fuck, this is better than any dream. Your mouth is amazing. I just want to fuck your face," Draco said, looking down into your eyes that were already on him, "Can I?”

You nodded, pulling away to catch your breath as Draco gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his dick further down your throat. Draco wasted no time using your mouth to his pleasure, taking joy in the little gagging that you were doing. The sounds of your gags turning him on even more than he already was.

"Do you like that? Being treated like my fuck toy?" Draco groaned out, watching your eyes gleam with unknown emotion. You hummed in agreement, keeping your eyes on him.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum," Draco moaned. His dick was hitting the back of your throat, repeatedly and unforgivingly. The closer Draco was getting to his climax, the sloppier his thrusts got. He let out a groan, releasing his cum deep down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, pulling away and wiping the spit that had drooled down your chin to your chest.

"I've never cummed from head before." Draco admitted, running a hand through his hair. You smiled, feeling your ego boost from his compliment.

"Well, there's a first time for everything." You stood up, gripping his dick that was still hard, "but I don't think it's fair that you get to cum and I don't."

Draco's eyes gleamed with excitement and lust. He leaned forward to nip at your ear. "Want to know what another one of my fantasies was?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, curiosity covering your face. Draco smirked as he turned you around to face the wall.

"It was to fuck you from behind against this wall."

He didn't waste time lifting your skirt up and sliding your panties to the side. He dragged his tip up and down your folds, making you whimper.

"Don't be a tease." You groaned.

"It's fun, remember?" He grinned, feeling his own cocky self return, "But I want to feel you, so I'm going to cut the fun short."

Draco slid into you, the action creating loud moans from both of you. He started thrusting fast and hard into you. The sound of your skins slapping together and the sounds of your moans filled the room. Any concern you had about someone walking in or hearing you was quickly thrown out the window.

“Fuck." You moaned.

"You feel so good. So tight and wet. Just for me, huh?" Draco whispered in your ear.

"Just for you." You whispered back. Draco continued his thrusts, slapping your ass as he went. His name spilling out of your mouth with a string of curse words.

You clenched around Draco, making him snake his hand around your neck to pull you up against him. "About to cum, baby? Cum on my dick like the good girl you are."

His words made your orgasm better than you ever thought it would be.

Draco spun you around and lifted you up, putting your legs over his shoulders and supporting you against the wall as he slid into you once again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes, right there." You moaned as Draco drilled into you, leaving you no choice but to take all of him.

"You take me so well. So wet and so pretty." Draco covered your neck in kisses and marks before crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues explored each other's mouth as Draco continued to thrust into you roughly. It didn't take long for you and Draco to get close to your climax again.

“I’m going to fill you up. Have you walking out of this room full of me, and me only.” Draco grunted in your ear.

“Yes, please.” You whimpered, “Please do it.”

Draco groaned, releasing again inside of you. He pulled out of you and dropped you down to the ground softly. You gripped his arm and the wall for balance as your legs were shaking and you couldn't walk properly.

"If someone would've told me this morning that by the end of the day I would've fucked Draco Malfoy, I would've called them insane." You said, regaining your normal breathing patterns.

"I could say the same." Draco chuckled. He quickly wrapped a towel around him, looking down at you. "Your shirt is wet from the shower and the spit. Here, let me get my hoodie for you to wear."

You blushed as Draco pulled you to the locker area, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over your head.

"Thank you." You adjusted the hoodie. "So, you never answered my question."

Draco raised an eyebrow at you, pulling on his clothes quickly. "What question?"

"How long have you been having dreams about me?"

Draco paused, redness creeping up his neck, "I was hoping I would fuck you hard enough to make you forget."

"Oh, I'll never forget this."

Draco rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag, "I don't remember when they started or even when I felt an attraction to you. I just know that every night, upon recently, it's always just been you."

You nodded, gathering your stuff, "Well, hope it was better than you could've ever imagined."

"Oh, it was," Draco said, "You never answered my question either. Why were you in here in the first place?" A smile took over your face as you looked up at Draco with a mischievous expression.

"You checked out the book for the Ancient Runes homework. Madam Pince said it was overdue and since I need it, she sent me to get it from you."

"I don't have it on me," Draco said.

You smiled, walking to the door, "Oh, I know. I'll come around your dorm later and get it from you."

You pushed the door open and threw a wink his way. Draco let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his locker.

You were going to be the death of him.

#slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #draco malfoy x reader #smut #slytherin x reader #mattheo riddle

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ichorai · 11 months

Text

water dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

the sequel to little dragon!

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; aemond loved his wife and his children more than anything. to lose one of them... that would bring nothing but war to the seven kingdoms.

words ; 10.3k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), heavy angst, established relationship (married), parents au

warnings / includes ; major character death (please proceed with caution), blood & cheese, descriptions of violence/blood, unprotexted sex scenes, sex in the rain, jealous!aemond, foul language, you and aemond have three children (syraena, kyrion, myra), cameos of the rest of the hotd characters, syraena experiencing gender dysphoria :( aemond being a good father/husband (most of the time), kyrion is a dragon dreamer, aegon being gross and touching you inappropriately, so sorry if the valyrian isn't completely correct </3 the timeline for this fic is a bit shifted so that king viserys dies a couple years later than he does in the show (so the children have more time to grow) lots & lots of foreshadowing !! there will be a part three.

main masterlist.

A dull, heavy thud resounded across the training yard when Criston swung his morningstar at Aemond yet again, its thick spikes missing his cheek by a hair’s breadth as he gracefully spun away, the ball landing onto the ground. Before his mentor could strike him again, Aemond darted around him in the blink of an eye, slanting the longsword’s blade against Criston’s throat.

“If we were enemies on a battlefield, you would be dead,” the Prince murmured.

The Dornish knight raised his hands in surrender. “Then I am grateful we are neither enemies nor at battle.”

With a hum, Aemond let the sword retreat back to his side, turning to place it back on the weapons rack. Only, he found his gaze falling on a small girl amongst the onlookers, her e/c eyes wide, curious, and eagerly dark.

“Syraena? What are you doing here?” he asked his eldest daughter, striding up to her and staring her down with the most stern expression he could muster. It was an hour past noon, and that meant she was supposed to be at her embroidery lessons with the Septa. Or perhaps it was dancing lessons? Aemond couldn’t quite recall. Either way, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Upon further inspection, he noted that her wispy hair was far shorter and more scraggly than usual, small bits of silver strands littered over her scrawny shoulders.

“What did you—did you cut your hair?” Aemond accused, his single eye narrowing as he knelt down in front of her. “Gods, your mother is going to have my head.”

“Do you like it, Kepa?” Syraena replied, wildly ruffling the short silver tendrils with a wide smile. “I found a sharp shard of glass by that broken window beside the mess hall… and I cut my hair with it!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aemond blew out a long, exasperated sigh. Though this wasn’t the first time Syraena had startled her parents, prone to impulsive recklessness, it didn’t make her proclivities any less hard on Aemond’s heart. “Darling, that is wildly careless. Don’t ever do that again, you understand me? Come on—you shouldn’t be here, your mother must be worried to death searching for you.”

Swiftly, he wound his arms around the six year-old, lifting her up so she would sit over his waist. Of course, Syraena being Syraena, pulled a sour face and began reaching out for Criston, who was observing on with an amused expression.

“But I want to watch you spar!” she complained, twisting in his grasp and kicking at his stomach. Aemond had to bite down on his tongue to swallow his groan of pain, but he held onto her tight nonetheless. “Kepa, let me down! Let me go!”

“You should be in your lessons,” Aemond chastised, striding up the winding stairs back into the Keep.

Pouting, Syraena let herself flop limply against Aemond’s shoulder. “I hate lessons. I hate the Septa. I hate being a girl.”

Raising a brow, Aemond glanced down at her before softly patting the back of her head. Though he hadn’t a clue what it was like to be a woman in Westeros, he could understand her feeling of not belonging amongst others who seemed to belong so easily. Syraena never got along with other girls her age, who were often afraid of her callousness and her tempestuous nature. In that respect, Aemond supposed his daughter was just like him.

“I’m sorry, my sea dragon. Perhaps I’ll let the Septa know that you no longer wish to dance.”

“And embroider!”

“Hm. That, as well.”

Syraena grinned widely—her curved lips reminiscent of yours.

“Kepa?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t tell mother I cut my hair,” she whispered, eyes shining with worry.

It was hard for Aemond to suppress his smile. “I’m sure she’ll notice regardless of whether I tell her or not, darling,” he gently told her.

Her expression dropped. “I didn’t mean to cut it this short. I just don’t like my long hair.”

“You’re very beautiful either way, Syraena,” he easily replied, before stopping in front of his chambers, where he knew you were watching over their baby daughter. “Alright. You go on inside—I’ll go speak to your Septa.”

He set his daughter down on her feet. She loitered by the door, dragging her feet glumly.

With a bark of a laugh, Aemond nudged her forward. “Go on. Your mother won’t be angry. Not that much, at least.”

Aemond’s only son, Kyrion, was a quiet boy. Only five years of age, born less than eleven moons after Syraena, he was already of greater intelligence than most far older than him, growing a knack for reading and drawing. The maesters would often express that his mind was developing much quicker than what was deemed normal.

Not only that, but he was quite handsome, as well, with strikingly sharp features akin to his father, and a head of snow-white curls. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, always distant and clouded over with thought. From as soon as he began to talk, Kyrion often spoke in strange, twisted riddles, mystifying both you and Aemond to no end.

King Viserys, as sickly as he was, had claimed him to be a dragon dreamer. Alicent had hushed him then, thinking he was on another one of his senseless rambles, and gently asked the two of you to step out so he could get some rest.

Now, as Aemond sat with his son in the library, he pondered the possibility of it all. Perhaps Kyrion had a divine gift—the ability to see glimpses of the future. He would have to speak with you about it, see what you thought first.

Even if it were true, Aemond didn’t want to put any kind of unnecessary pressure on his son. Kyrion was only five, after all, no matter how startlingly intelligent he was.

“And what does this say?” He tested the boy, tapping his finger against the dusty Valyrian book.

Immediately, Kyrion replied in his soft, far-away voice, “Zaldrīzoti mērī ipradagon parklon. Dragons only eat meat.”

“Hm. Good.”

“It should be more specific,” said Kyrion, hands fidgeting beneath the table. “Dragons only eat cooked meat.”

A ghost of a proud smile hovered over Aemond’s lips. “That is correct—this book is old, from a time before maesters were able to record accurate, detailed information about dragons.”

Kyrion didn’t reply, flipping the worn, yellowed page.

“What does this mean?” he eventually asked, pointing at an unfamiliar word.

Aemond glanced over at the book, before blanching, and cleared his throat hastily. The paragraph was depicting a few different maesters’ debates on the mating practices of dragons—a topic of which Aemond was not too keen on broaching with his five year-old son.

“Mmh… nothing of importance. Keep on reading, my water dragon. You’re doing very well.”

Blinking up at him with his large, pale violet eyes. He seemed to sense his father’s discomfort, so he let the matter drop, returning his attention to the book. Aemond blew out a relieved breath—he’d surely have to tell you about this later tonight.

Myra Targaryen, the youngest of Aemond’s children at three years of age, was a sweet little girl with a soft heart, always wearing a gentle smile. She loved all things in nature, and had a near unbearingly kind soul. She loved singing and dancing, a stark contrast to Syraena, who turned her nose away at such activities. At times Aemond wondered how Myra could possibly be his kin, for she was far too pure and he was… certainly not.

Unlike her sharp-faced siblings, Myra’s features were much softer and healthily plump. Her hair was a shade darker than them as well, the curls a silver-gold hue of blonde. Though Aemond was hoping for another daughter that bore your beautiful eye color, Myra was born with his dark purple irises, nearly blue in certain lighting.

As you had left to soak in a bath, Aemond had taken it upon himself to put his river dragon to sleep, tucking her beneath a fleece blanket and brushing her flaxen away from her drooping eyelids, heavy with exhaust from the day.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, Myra,” he whispered, brushing a kiss upon her forehead. Sleep well.

“Night-night, Kepa,” she responded, grinning sleepily, dimples indenting her chubby cheeks. “Today I saw a butterfly in the gardens!”

“Mmh, was it a large butterfly?”

“No. It was very small—smaller than my hand! I named it Hūra, because it was white, like the moon.”

Finding her grin contagious, Aemond felt a smile flicker over his usually stoic demeanor. “A lovely name. Your Aunt Helaena loves butterflies, as well. Perhaps you can tell her all about Hūra tomorrow.”

Myra enthusiastically nodded, before sitting up against her feather-pillows, reaching up to her father to press a sweet kiss against his scar, just below his eyepatch.

By the Gods, he could nearly feel tears prick the corner of his vision, but he managed to subdue them for a minute, not wanting to weep in front of his young daughter, lest she grew worried for him.

“I like Kepa’s scar,” she mumbled as she settled back down to go to sleep. “How did you get it?”

Aemond was silent for a long while, unsure of what to tell her. “An accident,” he simply replied.

“Does it hurt?”

It did, at times. Not as often as it used to, but there were instances he could still feel phantom pains throbbing behind the leather patch. “Not anymore,” he lied, voice quiet.

If Myra had any other questions, she didn’t get the chance to ask them, already drifting off into slumber.

Aemond hummed, before rising onto his feet, making his way out of her chambers. To his surprise, you were hovering by the doorway, arms crossed and affection written plainly over your expression.

“I just put Kyrion to bed,” you whispered, leaning into his touch when he cradled your face with his palms with a quiet greeting. “He was speaking in riddles again—something about a deal with a stag?”

The two of you began making your way down the hall, to your shared chambers. “Stag?” he asked. “Baratheons?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, sighing. “I worry for him.”

Aemond slipped into the room after you, shutting the door behind him. He gathered you in his arms, capturing your lips with his in a chaste kiss. When he pulled away, he studied your concerned features—just as beautiful as the day he’d met you.

“We’ll be fine, dōna embar,” he reassured you, leading you to bed with a protective hand resting over your lower back. You loosely smiled at the nickname—sweet sea. “The dragon-trouts are strong. No house, stag or otherwise, could ever lay a hand on them.”

Instead of responding, you kissed him again, your nose bumping against his in your haste. The both of you laid down on the tall mattress, the promise of sleep whispering sand into your ears.

Before you could fall into a dreamless rest, however, Aemond quietly murmured, “I’m assuming Syraena didn’t tell you she cut her hair with a shard of glass she found by a broken window. Kyrion also asked about mating practices whilst we were in the library. And Myra wanted to know how I got my scar.”

Startled at the sudden barrage of information, you abruptly sat up, eyes wide, sleep suddenly the very last thing on your mind. “What?”

The next morning was dreary.

It was a rare thing for rain to grace the capital, as it was usually arid and warm. But the skies were grey and thunderous, miniscule pinpricks of water beginning to fall from the dark clouds. You stood on your chamber’s balcony, enjoying the cooler temperatures and the light drizzles dampening your skin, your hair, your sleeping shift. It’d been several moons since it last rained—compared to your original home, the Riverlands, King’s Landing simply paled in comparison. How you missed the feeling.

Aemond, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the change in weather. He stepped out to join you, one of his spindly hands reaching out to grasp the damp fabric around your waist, the other moving upward to tilt your chin so you’d look at him.

“How beautiful you are, ābrazȳrys,” he whispered, trailing kisses down from the corner of your lips to your jaw. The Valyrian word for wife was uttered with an extra husky tone. “The hour is quite early—the children are still fast asleep.” There was a rough, needy scratch to his voice, indiscreetly conveying his lustful intentions.

With a wanton grin, you replied breathily, “Fuck me in the rain, Aemond. Fuck me until I can’t wa—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond was already shoving you up against the stone railing, his hot mouth slanted desperately over yours. You kissed him back with just as much vigor, curling one of your legs around his waist. Already, you could feel his length hardening, pressing against your lower stomach.

You moaned lewdly into his mouth when the hand that had been under your chin snaked further downwards to grasp at your breasts through the drenched shift, his nimble fingers pinching at your sensitive peaks. His other hand relinquished his grasp on your waist, slipping beneath the fabric between your thighs and running a finger through your folds. The action made you cry out, grasping his forearms for dear life.

“You’re already drenched for me,” Aemond susurrated, pulling away from your lips, which you had chased after with a sigh, littering kisses against your bobbing throat. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love.

“Please, Aemond,” you croaked, needing more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

With a hum, Aemond swiftly shoved your damp shift up to bunch around your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare for him.

“Who am I to deny you, embar?” he whispered, biting the outside of your ear, before slowly sliding his leaking, throbbing length into your cunt. “Fuck! Mmh—you take me so well, sweet wife.”

Slowly, he began rocking into you, prideful at the way you rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Your shift, clinging against you like a second skin thanks to the rain, made the motions of your heaving, bouncing breasts all the more enticing. He ducked his head to freckle kisses over your chest as he thrust into you, murmuring praises into the wet fabric.

A clap of thunder drowned out the obscene noises the both of you were making.

Wildly, Aemond tore himself out of you, extinguishing the fiery complaints on the tip of your tongue by turning you over and pushing your stomach into the railing, so you could face the city. You were far too high up for anyone to clearly see, but the thrill of it was there, nonetheless.

Your husband slid back into you with a deep groan and a string of curses, sloppily pounding you from behind as he neared his peak. He wound an arm around you to languidly stroke at your pulsing clit, which had you bucking back into him with a surprised choke of his name.

It wasn’t long until you collapsed against him, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice, white stars bursting out in front of your vision. Not too soon after, Aemond spilled himself within you, his hot cum dripping out of your core and down your thighs, panting against your shoulder.

“Mmh,” you moaned once he slowly pulled out, so as to not overwhelm you with overstimulation. “I do hope it rains in King’s Landing more often.”

“If it leads to more of this, then so do I,” Aemond replied, turning you around with gentle touches to kiss you soundly. “For now, how does a hot bath sound?”

Myra’s shrieks of laughter echoed across the large chambers as she clumsily ran away from Syraena, who was enacting a large, hungry dragon searching for her prey.

“Kepa, help me!” she screamed, scrambling to hide behind her father’s legs. Amused, Aemond picked up his youngest girl, setting her on his hip. His eldest clung to his shin, forcing Aemond to drag the both of them across the room as they squealed in delight.

“Faster!” Syraena ordered. Aemond made a mental note to tell Criston he was most likely going to be late for training today, knowing his girls probably wouldn’t let go of him for the next few hours.

On the other side of the chambers, you sat by your son next to the fireplace, sipping on a chalice of spiced apple cider. Kyrion was sprawled out on the expensive chaise, the corner of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing on a piece of parchment with a coal-tipped pencil.

“Mother, look,” he said, pulling your attention away from your husband and the excited girls. The paper was pushed onto your lap, covered with black smudges and hastily drawn lines. “This is what I see in my dreams.”

You blinked, studying the drawings closer. “What is it, honey? Are those trees?”

His white hair flew every which way as he vehemently shook his head. His small hand pointed at the six figures, hovering a few inches above the uneven ground. “Those are people. They didn’t bend the knee.”

Horror’s dark fingers wrapped around your heart, and you reared back to stare at your son. “Kyrion, what is this? You… have you seen this?”

His pale violet eyes met your terrified ones. “In my dreams,” he repeated, voice soft and tame, as if he hadn’t just drawn a picture of six lords hanging from the gallows. “You don’t have dreams like those?”

Still in shock, you shook your head, mute.

Kyrion studied you for a moment longer, before grabbing another sheet of paper to start drawing again. “You’re lucky, mother. Sometimes I feel it.”

“Why is that, Kyrion? What else do you feel?”

The little boy shrugged. “The milk curdles, the blood spills.” He fell quiet after that, clearly done with the conversation.

Struggling for words, you blew out a long breath, before looking back at the parchment. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his head, patting down his short white curls, before standing up and making your way to Aemond, his drawing in hand. Myra had somehow ended up on his shoulders, yelling for help as Syraena jumped around, trying to catch her little sister’s flailing feet.

“Mama,” the young river dragon cried, reaching out to you with tearful purple-blue eyes. “Syraena bit me!”

True to her word, there were shallow teeth marks imprinted in her chubby shin. Syraena grinned at her handiwork, looking none too apologetic.

“Aemond!” you sharply reprimanded, which made your husband flinch at the sudden attention, puzzled as to why the blame was placed on him instead of Syraena. “Gods, did you just stand by and watch as your daughters mauled each other?”

“I was outnumbered, darling. They are vicious little things, our girls,” Aemond lightly replied, letting go of the golden-haired girl so she could cling onto you, sobbing into your neck. At your stern expression, Aemond added on, “Syraena, say sorry to your sister.”

With a quick tongue, she quickly said with years of rehearsed practice, “Sorry, Myra. Can I come watch you train now, Kepa?”

Before he could reply, you stepped in. “Ah-ah, Syraena. You need to go to the Septa and apologize for running away from your lessons yesterday. You may be excused from embroidery and dancing, but that doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”

Glum, Syraena glanced at her father, who only beckoned her along. “Listen to your mother.”

With a heavy exhale, the silver-haired girl stomped out of the room to do as she was bid.

You traced your hand along the bite mark on Myra’s leg. “It’s not too bad, sweetheart. Go on—go ask your brother if you can draw with him.”

Sniffling, Myra slid down from your arms and waddled off to sit by Kyrion, who wordlessly scooched over to make space for his little sister.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, noting the worry in your expression. The once light-hearted atmosphere seemed to dissolve away in an instant.

Pursing your lips, you handed over the drawing.

“Kyrion said he saw this in his dreams. People hanging… he said they didn’t bend the knee,” you whispered.

Aemond studied the coal-streaked parchment, eye narrowed. “Perhaps that’s all it was… just a dream.”

“Or it could be a vision. Your father said it himself—our son is a dragon dreamer,” you responded, gripping his forearm. “Aemond, I’m worried that war is upon us. Sooner than we think it is.”

There was little Aemond could truthfully say to comfort you, and so he simply drew you close, breathing in your homely scent—pleasantly noting that he could still smell the rain on you.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured sincerely. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or our family. I’ll keep you safe.”

Blinking away the tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you pressed your nose against his throat. “I’m not sure you’d be able to, husband. Not in a war for the iron throne. Nobody is safe from that.”

Your law-sister, Helaena, had always harbored a gentle, sweet soul—a direct opposite to her brother and husband, Aegon. The very thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, made to squeeze out heirs for a monster of a man was already nightmarish enough… you couldn’t fathom what it was like for Helaena to endure such a life. Nonetheless, she was often as happy as one could be, dreamily smiling and murmuring unintelligible words to herself.

That evening you found yourself having tea with her, listening to her speak about the strange weather and the bugs she had found washed up in the gardens due to the rain.

“Many worms, yes,” she mumbled, fiddling with a wooden carving of a cockroach. “Worms and drowned ants. Ants and drowned worms. Beetles, as well, yes.”

You smiled, glancing at her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, playing with yours—though Kyrion wasn’t really playing with his cousins, more just standing in the shadows and silently watching his sisters play with them. He truly was a copy of his father, after all.

“The poor creatures,” you surmised. “Rid of their homes and families just because of a bit of rain.” A bit of guilt twinged within your chest—just earlier today, you had told Aemond you wished for it to rain more.

“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Helaena hummed, looking up at you with a mild grin. “Death gives way to more life. There will soon be new worms, new ants, new beetles. It’s simply the way of nature.”

You nodded, setting down your teacup. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a shame that it has to happen in the first place.”

To your surprise and none of Aemond’s, all the childrens’ dragon eggs hatched within their cradles. They were growing larger and larger every day, being looked after by the dragon keepers before the children could ride them.

Today, Aemond took them down to the Dragon Pit, where his children were going to bond with their respective beasts. You were invited to come, as you always were when Aemond went off on his excursions with the kids, but you had wrinkled your nose and turned back to your book.

“I have no taste for stinking of dragon today, thank you,” you curtly replied, grinning down at your book. “Don’t you think Myra is a bit too young to bond with her dragon? She’s only three.”

“It doesn’t hurt to get acquainted,” he swiftly replied, before bending at the waist to slant a sweet kiss to your hairline, before taking his leave to head out of his chambers and wrangle his kids down to the Pit.

They were excited to go, Syraena most especially, practically sprinting down the corridors. He called out after her to slow down, but she paid him no mind.

The Dragon Pit smelled of smoke and charred meat and something distinctly dragon.

Keepers brought out the three dragonlings, playfully nipping at each other’s wings and yipping as if they were young pups.

The largest of the trio was named Aerion—Syraena’s dragon. He was a slender beauty, with shining black scales and sharp, crimson wing membranes. With the Keeper’s nod, Syraena confidently marched forward, stroking her dragon’s head, a toothy grin plastered across her lips. Aerion seemed to purr beneath her touch, plumes of grey smoke falling from his nostrils.

Next to come forward was Kyrion’s dragon, his rippling scales a dark shade of green and sharp eyes a molten amber. “Tyvaros,” Aemond heard his son mumble his dragon’s name. “Tyvaros.” A bit more timid, Kyrion hesitantly stepped forward and, with the Keeper’s approval, he reached out for the small green dragon. He was the calmest of the three, leaning forward to gently nudge his head against Kyrion’s shoulder.

The smallest of the hatchlings was Goldentooth, a pale, cream-hued dragon with aureate spikes running down her back and along her tail. She was Myra’s to claim, having been the very last to hatch.

“Go on, Qelbar.” He gently nudged his flaxen-haired daughter forward. River, he affectionately called her. “Don’t you want to bond with her?”

Myra nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“I can’t see a reason why she wouldn’t like you,” he calmly responded, patting her back. “Your brother and sister are getting along with their dragons just fine. It took me a long time to bond with a dragon, as well. You’ll get there, eventually.”

His words seemed to instill some courage into her, and so she shuffled along to the last Keeper, murmuring hello to her dragon. It wasn’t long until the fear subsided, and the small dragon was already climbing all over her arms and shoulders.

After an hour of bonding, the Keepers were hoarding the dragons further down into the Pit for feeding, and in turn, Aemond took the children back up into the Keep. They all stank of dragon, something you definitely weren’t going to be happy with, but had wide smiles on their faces nonetheless.

There was a hearing carried out on the subject of the heir to Driftmark (which was settled in an unsettlingly gorey manner, courtesy of Daemon Targaryen), which meant Princess Rhaenyra and her sons were back in King’s Landing for quite a while, to Aemond’s displeasure. You, on the other hand, bore no ill-will to the Princess, and were rather excited for the royal dinner to be held the next day.

The night after Vaemond’s beheading, Kyrion had tugged on your skirts and asked if you could accompany him to the library so he could return his book.

“Alright,” you told him with a small smile. “But we must be quick about it—the hour grows late, and I can see how sleepy you are.”

The purple-eyed boy nodded, taking your hand as the two of you made your way down the dark corridors, to the library. When the both of you turned the corner, you nearly ran straight into Lucerys, jumping back in surprise.

“Oh, Gods! My apologies, my Princes,” you exclaimed, flustered at the sudden appearance of Rhaenyra’s sons. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Lucerys tilted his head. “No need to apologize, Lady Tully.”

“Targaryen. Tully is my maiden name—I’m married to Prince Aemond now,” you gently corrected.

“Evidently so,” said Jace, glancing at your son with a polite smile. “This must be my little cousin. Kyrion, isn’t it?”

The white-haired boy stared up at him with his pale eyes. “Ice and fire. Arrows and seas. Pacts and death. I saw you in my dreams.”

“Kyrion,” you hastily reprimanded, mortified that your son was speaking of death in front of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, gathering the small boy up in your arms. “Sorry, he must be tired. It’s his bedtime—”

“He doesn’t look much like you, does he?” Lucerys observed, finding it eerily strange to be staring at a little boy that was a near carbon copy of the bane of his childhood.

Brows furrowing, you hesitantly replied, knowing the stale animosity between him and your husband, “I… I suppose not, my Prince. He takes after his father. My daughters, too.”

“Ah, then we must arrange to meet them. I’m sure your children would enjoy playing with my little brothers, Aegon and Viserys. They must be around the same age,” said Jace in an amicable manner.

Before you had a chance to respond, a familiar voice spat, “And why, pray tell, do you think I would ever allow my children near you and your filthy kin?”

Aemond appeared from out of the shadows, features set in one of cold fury. Both Jacaerys and Lucerys took a step back, shoulders stiffening. They had seen him training earlier today—it didn’t go past their notice that he had become incredibly skilled in combat over the years. In no way would either of them be a match for him.

Wary not to allow a fight to break out, you reached out to place a calming hand on his arm. “Aemond—” you gritted out.

“Leave us,” he growled.

Teeth gnashing together, you shook your head and whispered, “Aemond, I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”

“Take our son and go,” he said, more gently this time. To you, Jace and Luke were just boys—sweet boys with kind hearts. To Aemond, however, they were the monsters who took out his eye. They were a threat to him and his family’s safety.

Exchanging a worried glance between him and Jacaerys, who nodded at you to take your leave, you blew out a frustrated breath, before hastening away with Kyrion in your arms. It seemed the two of you would have to take a trip to the library another day.

Lowering his voice, Aemond calmly told the two brothers, “Speak to my wife or my children again, and I’ll have the both of you fed to my dragon.”

Luke swallowed nervously, but Jace stood his ground.

“Is that all, Uncle?” he challenged, eyebrows cocked.

Aemond fixed a sharp glare on them, nose upturned. With an irritated grunt, he turned and strode off after you, leaving the two bastard boys stunned and mildly confused in his wake.

Once he had made sure his girls were safely tucked in their beds, Aemond paid his son a visit, sitting by his side.

“I apologize for interrupting your trip to the library, water dragon,” he murmured, patting down the boy’s messy white curls.

Kyrion chewed on his bottom lip in thought. “Why don’t you like them, Kepa?”

Aemond’s single eye searched his son’s gaze, completely sincere in his curiosity. “A story for another time, when you’re older,” he replied. “Your mother said you’ve been drawing what you see in your dreams. Can you tell me about them?”

“Which ones?” he asked.

The one-eyed man felt sick at the thought of his little boy having to watch a thousand lives pass by in his visions, most having to inevitably end in death. It was a curse to be a dragon dreamer, he thought with a grimace. A burden.

“Whichever you want to tell me about, tresy.” Son.

Kyrion’s pale eyes seemed to mist over, and he fixed his gaze on a random candle across the room. “I see you wearing a crown. You sit on the Iron Throne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

It seemed his son had mistaken Aemond’s befuddled expression for anger, as he shrank away from his father with a frown. “I’m sorry, Kepa. Don’t be angry with me.”

Aemond softened. “I’m not angry, Kyrion. I was just… shocked.”

Not all of Kyrion’s visions came true, did they? Aemond tried his best to wrack his mind for the dozens of times his mystic ramblings lead to nowhere.

“I also see mother sailing away on a ship with Syraena and Myra. She looks sad,” he quietly spoke. “I don’t like that dream very much. Can I go to sleep now, Kepa?”

Blowing out a small breath, Aemond mustered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his worried eye. “Yes, of course. Sleep well, little dragon.”

Hastily, he stood back up on his feet, blowing out the candles around Kyrion’s chamber, before striding out the door. His head was spinning with a million thoughts at once, his son’s wispy voice echoing within his mind.

A crown on his head. His wife and his girls on a ship. Seven hells… what was to become of his family?

Myra was humming a sweet song of summer, chubby cheeks rosy with the warm breeze that blew through the Godswood. She was seated in front of you over a yellow blanket situated on the ground. In your hands, you were weaving the little girl’s golden hair into an intricate braid, small wildflowers slotted in between the crevices.

A little ways away from the both of you, Syraena was running circles around the Weirwood tree, fighting off invisible enemies with a long, wooden stick she claimed to be her sword.

“There you go, darling,” you said, patting Myra’s shoulders once you were done. “Syraena, come here! I want to fix your hair!”

Your eldest girl huffed and puffed as she stomped over, her short silver strands sticking up every which way. “What’s there to fix?” she grumbled, plopping down in front of you.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t foolishly sliced it all off with a shard of glass, it wouldn’t resemble an uneven rat’s nest sitting upon your head,” you reprimanded.

Giggling, Myra clapped her hands. “Rat’s nest!” she parroted.

Syraena scowled. “It’s not fair. You let Kyrion have short hair. I want to be a boy, like him.”

“If you wanted short hair, you could’ve just asked. Lailena would have gladly cut it for you,” you said, brandishing a wooden comb to gently run it through Syraena’s thin silvery strands. “Do you want to know what your father said when I was first pregnant with you?”

Syraena shifted with a grimace as you yanked at a knot in her hair. “What?”

“He said he didn’t care whether you were a boy or a girl. That you were his blood, regardless. His tempestuous sea dragon,” you said with a small smile, mimicking a sour face at her nickname. “And Kyrion came next, our tranquil water dragon. Then lastly, Myra, our sweet river dragon.”

When you were done, you had Syraena turn around so you could inspect her hairline, brushing back any stray bits of hair that escaped your comb. “All finished. Beautiful, handsome… I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetling.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, nodding. “Can I go play knights with Jaehaerys now?”

“Go on,” you lightly nudged her away, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips, knowing full and well her hair was going to be all mussed in no less than half an hour of playing.

Before Syraena could get up and scramble away, however, a figure approached the three of you. She was clad in a black cloak, detailed with fine red thread in embroideries of flames and dragons. Golden jewelry decorated her pale skin, her long hair like sheets of pure snow.

The Princess Rhaenyra.

“Princess,” you breathily greeted, mind flashing back to last night, when you had bumped into her sons.

You were about to get up to bow, but Rhaenyra quickly said, “No need, Lady Y/N. My apologies, I wasn’t aware the Godswood was occupied. If you’d like to be alone—”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Princess. It’s a space to be shared, after all,” you said with a courteous smile.

Rhaenyra studied you carefully, her purple eyes taking in your form. It was a strange thing, she thought. You were married to her half-brother, and mothered her childhood friend’s grandchildren. A childhood friend that was her friend no longer.

With you, however, perhaps the story could be different.

A genuine smile graced the Princess’ lips. “These are your girls?” she asked.

The taller and older of the two most certainly took after her father, with her sharp features and silver hair, though she bore your eyes and your smile. The younger was plump with a softer face, and had more blonde than white hair, her large eyes a deep shade of violet.

“Yes, this is Syraena, my oldest. And this is Myra,” you told her. “My son Kyrion is in the library at the moment, with his father.”

“His father,” Rhaenyra echoed quietly, voice distant. The memory of little Aemond in front of her, eye slashed out, and Luke cowering behind her with a bleeding, broken nose flashed into her mind. Clearing her throat, she reeled herself back into the present by saying, “Your children are very beautiful. Have you considered any potential suitors for them yet?”

Your eyes widened simultaneously as Syraena’s head whipped up to stare at you.

“No,” you replied, a tad too quickly. “I don’t think I’d want to subject them to that until they come of age. Or until they want to.”

The Princess tilted her head to the side with a mild laugh. “If your daughters were anything like me when I was a teenager, then you’d find the latter quite a challenge.”

“Yes, Queen Alicent has told me of your youth… how you rejected nearly all the contenders for your hand,” you replied. “I can’t say I could relate. Aemond was my first and only suitor.”

She hummed in thought. “I only asked because I just had my sons betrothed to their cousins.”

Right. Jacaerys and Lucerys were to wed Baela and Rhaena.

So that was why she asked. She wanted to know if Alicent was scheming, just as she had been. Betrothals and weddings were equivalent to political currency in times of war.

“I don’t plan on wedding my children off any time soon,” you reassured her. From the corner of your eye, you could see Syraena’s shoulders loosen up. The prospect of marriage was not one she was particularly interested in.

“I see,” Rhaenyra said, though her face was much more relaxed now than before. “I shall go wash myself before supper tonight. I look forward to seeing you there.”

With that, she turned to take her leave. Myra looked up at you with a toothy grin. “Can I come with you to supper?”

“It’ll be past your bedtime,” you said, rising to your feet and picking her up to place on your hip. “But I promise we can spend the entire day together before that. Come on, Syraena, I’ll drop you off at Jaehaerys’ room.”

That evening’s royal supper was a disaster.

It started off well enough, with several toasts from the adults, and an additional one from Jacaerys dedicated to his uncles and his cousins’ good fortune. The King gave one long, hunkering speech on unity and the togetherness of the dragon’s house, wheezing through his words all the way.

Only then did the feast begin, consisting of a large assortment of roasted meats and soups and plates of steaming bread. There were also cold platters of appetizers passed around, full of cheeses, figs, and grapes. Viserys had barely eaten a bite before he had to be escorted back to his chambers, past his point of exhaustion.

Aegon had spent most of the dinner tormenting Jace and Baela on their future marriage. When he grew bored of his nephew’s stoic demeanor, he turned to you, his good-sister. It was evident the Prince was quite drunk as he blathered on and on about the most trivial topics as you gingerly drank your hearty soup, though you didn’t have much of a stomach for it anymore.

The last of the toasts came from Helaena as she congratulated Baela and Rhaena on their betrothals, subtly dunking on her husband before she drank with a dreamy grin.

Not too long after, music started playing, a symphony of strings and bells, and Jace had offered his hand to Helaena, much to Aegon’s dismay.

In an effort to retaliate, Aegon leaned close to your ear, placing a hand on your thigh beneath the table. You had jerked away from his touch, glancing at Aemond, who sat on your other side.

“Care for a dance with me, good-sister?” He smelled of wine and a general foul dampness.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s quite alright, my Prince. I don’t think you’re in a state to dance with me.”

“Nonsense, Lady Y/N, I am as sound as the day I was born!” he drunkenly hiccuped, words slurring together. His hand found its way back to your thigh, fingers gripping tighter this time. You tried to yank your leg away, nearly standing up with the effort.

Sensing your discomfort, Aemond growled out, “Leave my wife alone, brother.”

The song drew to a close, and Helaena returned to her seat, beaming brightly.

“Or what?” Aegon cackled, clearly enjoying seeing his brother get riled up. Thankfully, his hand slipped away from your leg to grip another chalice of wine. “What will you possibly—”

Before he could finish, Jacaerys stood between you and Aegon, offering his hand.

“If I could have this dance, Lady Targaryen?” he asked, emphasizing the family name in memory of your correction last night. His expression bore one of concern, obviously coming here to offer you an escape from Aegon.

Sparing a glance to your husband, who had taken to silently bristling, you nodded once.

“Of course, my Prince,” you said, taking his hand. Much to your satisfaction, Aegon had looked like he was struck across the face.

Off the two of you danced—spinning and twirling and laughing the entire time. Aemond was never too fond of dancing during the celebrations, always cautious of the stares, much preferring to dance with you in the privacy of your own chambers. Watching you openly have such fun with Jacaerys, however, made jealousy coil tight within his abdomen. You were smiling so widely—a smile that he had the joy of seeing every morning. To see it elicited because of his bastard nephew kindled an envious, green flame inside him.

Then came the pig.

And Lucerys’ none-too-discreet giggling.

Something in Aemond snapped.

The music halted as he slammed his fists onto the table, and his wife hastily stopped dancing with Jacaerys to see what the commotion was.

Of course, Aemond simply couldn’t help himself. In front of the entire family, he called his nephews Strong boys.

Pandemonium broke out. Jacaerys had let go of you to storm forward and land a punch on your husband, which seemed not to affect him in the least, shoving the brown-haired boy to the ground.

Aegon, eager to join the chaos, had grabbed Lucerys by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him into a searing platter of fish. “A gift for the new Lord of Driftmark!” he announced with a wild, manic grin.

In the end, Daemon had been the one to put a stop to the scuffle, staring down Aemond with raised brows. With a frustrated hum beneath his breath, your husband stormed out of the mess hall, making his way upstairs to your shared chambers.

You scrambled out after him, lifting your skirts to give you space to run. It was improper to leave without bidding the rest of the family goodbye, but then again… nothing about the dinner had been proper at all.

Once you had rushed into the room, Aemond roughly slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it. His fingers were already undoing the laces on your back, his lips sealing shut over yours.

“Aemond,” you murmured against him, lightly pushing at his chest. “Stop, for just a minute.”

Your husband pulled back at your request, single violet eye ablaze.

“What… Gods, why would you do such a thing? Why would you go out of your way to torment them?”

“You know very well why,” he quietly gruffed, reaching behind to pull off his eyepatch, tossing it onto a small table by the door, the sapphire in place of his lost eye gleaming dully beneath the moonlight. Your lips parted to ask him something else, but he cut you off by gripping your chin, whispering in a possessive fashion, “Hush, ñuha dōna embar. Seven hells, you’re more beautiful than ever. And you’re all mine.” My sweet sea.

“Don’t hush me!” you hissed, brows knitting together. “Aemond, Jacaerys will one day be the crown prince when Rhaenyra ascends the throne. It is not wise to provoke them in such a manner.”

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Aemond stroked your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “They’re bastards, my love. The throne is not theirs to take. And my sister… the realm will not accept her as their ruler. You know this, jorrāelagon.”

“They swore an oath! Our families swore oaths to her. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on becoming an oathbreaker,” you reminded, softening beneath his touch. “Aemond, I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t want you to do that again. If not for me, then for our children. Don’t go picking fights where it’s not needed.”

Aemond shut his weary eye. If Myra had seen him tonight, she would surely be afraid of him.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I got caught up in my anger.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, soft and gentle, and Aemond wasted no time in reciprocating, pressing you back against the door. Off came your dress and down came your styled hair with Aemond’s skilled fingers. In no time, Aemond had your legs wound around his waist, his coat unbuttoned and shirked off somewhere behind him. Your drenched core was pressed right against his throbbing length, rock hard and leaking with pearly beads of precum.

“I love you, more than anything, more than life itself,” he murmured against your throat, gently nipping at the skin there. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Aemond,” you moaned wantonly when one of his hands snaked down to thumb at your clit. “Please, I’m yours, please fuck me.”

With a satisfied hum, Aemond planted a deep kiss onto your parted lips, a groan rumbling from his chest when you bit into his bottom lip, eyes hooded. He lined his cock up, before sinking into you with one smooth motion, his forehead falling into the crook of your neck.

You held onto him for dear life when he began to rock into you, scratching faint crimson lines down his toned back. The pain seemed to only spur him on, and he shifted his angle to pound into you deeper, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the pleasure.

“Fuck!” he bit out. “So good, ābrazȳrys. Feels so good around me.”

He moaned when you clenched around him, his breath hitching when you slid your hands up into his hair and yanked with no abandon. In no time, he could feel you coming undone around him with a litany of colorful curses, shaking almost violently in his hold. In turn, Aemond came inside you with a shout of your name, rocking into you once, twice, thrice more.

Slow, he pulled out of you, watching the cum drip out of your spent cunt with great satisfaction. He kissed you sweetly, nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he softly said, carrying you across the room to set you down on the bed. “Go to sleep, love.”

“Mm, I love you,” you murmured. A ghost of a warm smile etched into the corner of his lips. He repeated the sentiment to you, but you had already drifted off to sleep before you could hear it.

King Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra and her children were gone, having flown back to Dragonstone earlier in the day.

And already, Aegon was to be crowned King.

You were none too happy about the turn of events, but you were to turn the cheek and play the part of the faithful wife, for the sake of your family and their safety. The lords who had refused to bend the knee to Aegon were either thrown in the dungeons or hanged, labeled as treasonous traitors to the realm. It was just like Kyrion had drawn, as he claimed to have seen in his dreams.

“A beast beneath the boards,” Helaena had constantly murmured, which frightened you to no end.

It was only worsened when Kyrion would reply with, “Bursting red, red in the sky, the sun in her mouth.”

Syraena was rupturing at the seams with a constant stream of questions—questions you had no such answers to. And your youngest daughter was crying the entire day, sensing the tense, fragile atmosphere. Your husband had gone to find Aegon in the slums of King’s Landing, who had unsurprisingly disappeared in thin air.

Not before long, he was dragged back into the Keep, and the coronation commenced above the Dragon Pit. The beast beneath the boards broke out only minutes after the crown was placed on his head. Hundreds of commoners and smallfolk were killed in the commotion. Princess Rhaenys rode her scarlet dragon, the Queen That Never Was mounted on the Red Queen of Dragons.

Aemond had shoved you back, protectively standing in front of you, though there was very little he could do. The both of you were immensely grateful the children were left in the castle with Lailena, safe from the chaos and the havoc. If you were to die today, you’d be dying in Aemond’s arms, knowing your children were safe for the time being—what better way was there to die?

But neither of you died that day, for Meleys had only screeched out a shrill warning, before clambering out of the Pit, and absconding to the clouds. Red in the sky.

Aemond had ushered you to the Keep, before hugging you tight in the secluded privacy of your chambers, genuinely terrified that he could’ve lost you.

The next day, he was already leaving again. He was to go to Storm’s End to broker a deal with Borros Baratheon: a marriage proposal between his brother Daeron and one of the Lord’s daughters. It seemed that betrothals truly were the realm’s political currency now.

“I want to come with you, Kepa,” Syraena said, staring up at her father with narrowed e/c eyes. “Let me come with you!”

Expression softening, Aemond ruffled her already-mussed hair. “It’ll be a quick trip. You can come to the next one, Syraena.”

The next goodbye was for his son, who hugged his father loosely. “An eye for a pearl,” he mumbled, too quiet for Aemond to hear.

Clutched to his leg, sobbing hysterically, was Myra, her cheeks damp and her dark, plum-hued eyes red-rimmed. “Oh, river, don’t cry for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

Finally, he turned to you, his hand on the back of your head as he kissed you, chaste yet passionate, and rested his forehead on yours. “Stay safe in here, my dear sea.”

“Storm’s End is wet and cold and… obviously stormy. Keep yourself warm. Don’t get struck by lightning, is all I ask, husband.”

“As you wish, love,” he whispered, before ducking his head to kiss your cheek. With a laugh, he pried his sweet girl away from his leg, lifting her up to chastely peck her forehead, and then handed her bawling form over to you. She was always this way when Aemond had to leave for longer than a day.

The four of you watched Aemond head out of the Keep. Unease roiled within your stomach with his absence.

“Three days for the pearl to wash ashore,” said Kyrion. There was a pallid tone to his skin, and he glanced at you with his large, pale eyes. “Mother, I’m scared.”

“Come,” you quickly said, ushering the children to their chambers. “Let’s go play with Auntie Helaena and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, yes?”

It was late the next night when Aemond returned. The moon glowed in a sliver of its regular size, the crescent unnaturally bright in the dark sky, void of any stars. You were standing out on the balcony, sleeping shift rustling with the warm wind when the doors behind you creaked open.

Rainwater dripped from his cloak as he stepped in.

Drip, drip, drip.

His single eye was wide and haunted, expression so far that it seemed like Aemond wasn’t even in the same room as you.

“Aemond?” you called out, stepping back into the chambers and crossing the room in quick strides to greet him. “Gods, you're sopping wet. Are you alright?”

It was as if he didn’t hear you, staring at the ground with parted lips. There was an unfamiliar, raw sort of terror blanketed over his features, you could see it clear as ever. Your brows indented together, and you reached out to softly graze your fingers along his damp face.

At the gentle touch, Aemond snapped his gaze to you. His hands were shaking.

Finding yourself at a loss for words, you roped him into an embrace, clutching his drenched form tightly against yours, uncaring that you were getting soaked in the process. This seemed to break him out of his reverie, as he began to tremble violently, and his chest thundered with silent sobs. His nose went directly to your neck and you hushed him with your free hand stroking the back of his head.

“Aemond, my love, what happened?” you asked again.

This time, he tried his best to answer you. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what, darling?”

“Vhagar didn’t listen to me. I tried to stop her,” he croaked, pulling his ashen face away from the junction of your neck, searching your comforting face frantically. “I… I killed him. I killed Lucerys.”

Your lips parted in shock. There was little you could find to say—for what could you tell your husband, now a kinslayer? No amount of comforting words could fix a situation such as this.

When Rhaenyra would inevitably find out about her son, war would rain down upon you and your family.

With a thick throat, you tightly hugged Aemond again, tears gracing the corners of your own eyes.

The days passed in a blur. Aemond was quieter than ever before, regret painted over his sharp features each and every time you glanced at him. Once he told his mother, she had nearly gone down the same manic spiral, but steeled herself to deal with the Green council.

When Aegon heard of his nephew’s death, he threw a large, grand feast, inviting all the Lords and Ladies at court.

Neither you nor Aemond attended.

The fourth night after Aemond had returned from Storm’s End, you were in Kyrion’s chambers, brushing away his ivory curls with tender hands as he settled beneath his fleece blanket to go to sleep. Aemond was putting the girls to bed by reading them a story, as the both of them were more restless than usual as of late.

“Kyr, baby, I have a question for you,” you said, voice soft and hesitant. Should you really be asking your son this? When Kyrion tilted his head in a silent motion for you to continue, you cleared your throat. “In your dreams… Did you see what happened to your cousin, Lucerys?”

Your son nodded once, biting at the inside of his cheek, a habit that he seemed to share with you.

Before you could ask him what he saw, there was a sudden, dull thud heard outside, followed by the familiar screech of steel. Fear wound its cold, dark hands around your pulsating heart.

The door flung open so quickly that the hinges whined in protest. Your eyes fell upon the two guards in front of Kyrion’s chambers, sprawled over the cobblestone floor, dark ichor leaking out of slit throats. Two looming figures stood in the doorway. One large and burly, the other short and thin as a twig.

You had no time to react, for a second later, the small one had darted forward, seizing you with surprising strength, brandishing coarse rope from thin air and binding your limbs together with tight knots, doing so with just one hand as his other was tightly sealing your mouth so you wouldn’t be able to scream for your husband, for more guards, for anyone. The other large man slammed the doors shut and barred them with one of his many swords he was carrying. The one holding you roughly gagged you with a cloth as soon as he pried his hand off, tying the ends around the back of your head. You gagged when your tongue registered the taste of coppery, day-old blood and sweat.

Despite the hindrance, you screamed your throat raw through the cloth anyway, kicking furiously and struggling in desperation against the small man, who was adamant on keeping you rooted to one spot. Your yells came out muffled and guttural, but not nearly loud enough to alert anybody outside, seeing as the closest people to the chambers were now dead.

Your son whimpered out for you, but he remained quiet after that, his pale mauve eyes wide as he fixed his gaze upon the large, brutish man who slowly approached him.

“Don’t be scared, little fish,” the mousy man sneered gripping your cheeks so you’d be forced to watch your little boy cower further beneath his covers. “We’re simply debt collectors, you see. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We just want ‘im. Won’t hurt one hair on your pretty lil’ head, ey?”

“NO!” you sobbed, struggling thrice-fold against him, to no avail. “Take me! Please, not my son!” you screamed, though it sounded like nothing but incoherent wailing through the dirty cloth.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as the large man tightened his grip on his longsword. The other hand reached out for your son, dragging him out of bed by the scruff of his sleep shirt so he dangled nearly a meter away from the ground.

“Don’t look, mother. I don’t want you to see it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear through the thundering of your pulse in your ears, making your knees buckle. “I saw it in my dreams.”

With one strike, the man lopped Kyrion’s head clean off.

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment. You screamed through the cloth, sobbing as you painfully crumpled to the ground, the gangly man finally releasing you. The blood… your son’s blood… his bed was covered with it. The walls behind him, the floor, the books on his desk…

Red, everywhere…

The two monsters had taken Kyrion’s head, the large man’s crimson-flecked fist gripping your son’s pearly-white curls, both fleeing the chambers in a blink of an eye.

You sobbed against the ground, inching your way to your son with your bonds digging into you. You didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the pain within your chest.

“Kyrion,” you wailed through the cloth, using your shoulder to roughly shove it down your lips, letting it fall around your neck, tearing the corner of your mouth in the process.

The entire Red Keep seemed to awaken with your grief-stricken scream. You kneeled your head against your little boy’s decapitated body, sobs wracking through your entire form.

That was what Aemond had rushed into, hearing the echoes of your cries from far away. He’d locked the girls’ rooms before coming, fearing the worst.

Upon seeing you on the ground, hovering over his murdered son, Aemond collapsed to his knees beside you, gathering his broken, shaking wife in his arms as he tugged you away. With trembling fingers, he undid the ropes around you, allowing you to throw your arms around him freely.

“Look away, jorrāelagon,” he said, voice uneven as he began to cry with you. “Look away.”

His words made you sob even harder… your son had told you to do just the same.

When Criston Cole came rushing in with Alicent Hightower, Aemond had immediately got to his feet, murderous revenge painted across his features. He helped you up, still crying hysterically.

“Mother, escort Y/N to our daughters’ chambers. Get a dozen guards to man the door. I’ll find our son’s murderer, and I’ll kill him myself.” He began striding away, Criston hot on his heels.

You called out for him, voice hoarse with overuse.

Pausing in his steps, Aemond turned his head ever so slightly, but didn��t meet your gaze. He blamed himself, of course he did. He was ashamed, because it was his fault his son was dead. It was his fault he couldn’t protect him—that he couldn’t protect you.

It seemed that Aemond was far too blinded by his rage to learn from his mistakes.

“I need you here, please! Please, Aemond, please don’t go,” you sobbed, leaning your weight against Alicent, who had taken to cradling you against her chest.

A muscle in your husband’s jaw jumped. A tear slipped down from his only eye, and he continued to walk away, determined to bring justice to his son. It felt as if a searing hot knife had pierced through his chest and twisted when he heard your despaired cries ricocheting off the stone halls of the Keep.

Revenge, was all he could think of, cold anger dancing along the dark shadows of his face. If it is a war they want, it is a war they shall have.

a/n ; hey !! thank you for reading this fic until the end <3 means so much to me! i made some picrews of what i visualize the kids to look like so here you go !! they're all aged up, ofc.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fluff #aemond targaryen fic #aegon targaryen x reader

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samandcolbyownme · 5 months

Text

Summary: Anon request - "Begging for Colby enemies to lovers"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, drugs and alcohol consumption, threats being made, kind of a dark aesthetic, reader has a 'bratty' attitude, mentions of weapons such as knives and guns, mentions of parent death, semi forced actions, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), hair pulling, biting, scratching, filth

Word count: 11.8k | not edited

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"You've got to be kidding me." You mumble into your slim champagne glass before taking a sip. Your friend, Leslie, looks up at you, "Who?" She glances back and scoffs, turning back to face you, "Of course he's here."

Your eyes stay on him, tracking him as he walks up to the bar, nodding as the bartender gets his usual.

"He has no business being here." You shake your head and Leslie nods, "Mhm. He'll get what's coming to him. Don't worry."

You look back up, tensing up slightly as you no longer have eyes on him.

"Ladies."

Your eyes lock on your Leslie's, "I knew this place was going downhill." She glances over at the man standing at the table, looking between the two of you, "Why do you say that, y/n?" She swirls her wine in her glass and you lean back, glancing over at him, "They're just letting anyone in here now, aren't they?"

"Yeah?" He questions as he sits down next to you, "I see they let anyone who has a bratty attitude in, too."

You roll your eyes, laughing once before finishing your drink, "Last I checked, this is my father's casino. What do you want. Are you here to accuse him again?" You look over at him and he shrugs, extending his arm on the top of the booth behind you, "Nah, I cleared that up." He sips his drink with a shrug, "Just wanted to talk."

"About what?" You stare at him and he chuckles, "Maybe we should have this conversation else where."

You shake your head, resting your elbows on the table, "Here's fine."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "You know.." he looks over at you, "I really wasn't giving you a choice, darling."

You turn to him, leaning in, "See, the gun that's strapped to my thigh tells me different."

He licks his lips, a smirk growing over them as he turns to look at you, "Are you threatening me?" His tone lowers to match yours and you tilt your head, "Not unless we have a problem."

You lean back, grabbing the fresh glass of champagne that was delivered to your table, "Do we have a problem Mr. Brock?"

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, "Nope. No problem."

"Good. So then this can wait until tomorrow when I'm not trying to enjoy my night with a very dear friend." You lift your finger off your glass, pointing to Leslie.

He looks over at her and back to you, "Mm. Alright." He stands up, turning to face you, "You're going to wish you spoke with me tonight."

"I think I'll manage." You give him a forced smile and watch as he walks back up to the bar.

"What was that all about?" Leslie leans in and your eyes stay on him, "I don't know." You shake your head, taking a deep breath as you move your focus from him to her, "I don't know."

·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Colby Brock.

That name left a bitter taste on your tongue and an even bitter hatred in the pits of your heart.

You hated him.

You hated the way he speaks, the way he walks, the way he talks, everything about him just gets under your skin and you can't stand it.

He has always rubbed you the wrong way and he knows it too, which is what makes it so much worse. He uses it against you, feeding his massive ego with the anger that radiates off of you when you see him.

It also doesn't help that he disrespected your father infront of his colleagues. Making your father out to be a complete fool.

If someone disrespects him. They disrespect you, too, and that's something you don't take lightly.

"Y/n. Sweetie." Your father voice echos in the large open stairwell, "Can you come see me for a moment?"

"Coming!" You yell back, marking the page of your open book with your bookmark, smoothing out your shirt as you stand up and make your way out the door.

You smile slightly at your father's body guard as you come down the steps and he nods, "Hello, y/n." You look over to your father and he motions towards his office, "I seen you were at the casino last night."

He sits down in the big chair behind his desk and you sit down in front of it, "I was, yes."

"How was it?" He leans back, interlocking his fingers as they lay over his stomach. You nod, "It was alright. Just had a few glasses of wine with Leslie."

You look at him, a slight confusion resting on your face.

"Did you speak with Mr. Brock?" Your father's words make your jaw clench, "Nope."

"And why not?" He looks at you and you shrug, "Because I hate him."

Your father chuckles and shakes his head, "Sweetie." Your father sighs, "You have to let some grudges go."

"Well, this isn't one of them." Your eyes move to his and he nods, "I understand why you're frustrated with him, but he came back the next day and completely bought my forgiveness."

You nod, "And I understand that that is how it works for you, but I don't exactly see him on his knees begging for mine."

Your father chuckles, "My dear, are your father's daughter."

"What is it that you need exactly, dad?" You cross your arms, hoping he just gets to the point of why you were pulled away from your reading.

"I need you to do something for me." He folds his hands together and leans back, "I'll be honest, it's something you aren't going to like, but I just need you to remind yourself that it's for me. For us."

"If it has anything to do with Colby.. no. Hard, no." You shake your head and your father sighs, "I need his help and he needs mine." He stares at you, waiting for you to response but you don't, so he breaks the silence, "..and as you know, I am one of the most successful business owners in Vegas."

You loved your father, but you hated when he used his work against you, and he wasn't talking about the casino work.

He was talking about what happens underground, because if he goes down, you're going down too.

"Yeah.. I know." You mumble and look down.

"Now. Have you changed your mind? Will you hear me out?" He watches as you look around the room, nodding with a sigh, "Yeah, yeah I guess."

"Great. I need you to accompany Colby to a special.. party."

You fight hard for control your face from expressing how much you hated that words that came from his lips, "A party? Why?"

"This party is Colby's thing and he's requested you as his date." Your father pulls out a folder and opens it, "But, it just so happens that the people who are hosting it, have something I want. Something I need." He holds up a picture of a small golden box, "I need this."

You snicker at his hypocritical words.

"What's that about?" He asks and you shake your head, "Just think it's kind of funny that you told me to let my grudge against Colby go, but yet.." you motion out in front of you, "..here you are."

Your father sighs, taking a moment before he looks up, "This is different, y/n. Not some grudge, Colby didn't steal anything from you, and like I said.. he requested you as his date, and he's helping me so it's the least I could do in return."

You laugh slightly, "Even after I threatened him with a gun last night?"

Your father's eyes go wide, "Y-you what?" He stares at you, glancing to Rio before laughing, "Fucking Christ, y/n."

"I didn't know what he wanted and I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere alone with him. I don't trust him." You cross your leg over the other and your father closes the folder, "He wanted to ask you himself, try and get you to trust him. But I see that didn't work so I'll have a dress delivered for you tomorrow morning."

He slips the folder back in the drawer and lays his hand down, "You're going and that's final."

Rio steps up beside you, "C'mon."

You look up at him, rolling your eyes, "you're not even going to give me a choice?" You look at your father and he shrugs, "Well, sweetie. I was, until you started with that bratty attitude of yours."

You scoff, standing up, "I'm on a roll. First Colby, now you?" You look at Rio, "Do you want to make it a third?"

"Y/n. Just go. Please. Don't make this any harder." Rio nods towards the door and you walk out, shutting the door before Rio can and you pull out your phone, immediately calling Leslie.

"Hey, find out what douche bag wanted last night?" She answers and you laugh, "I sure did." You slowly walk up the steps, "Basically, I have to be his date for some bullshit job that he's doing for my dad."

"Can't he do it himself?" She asks, "That's so stupid."

"Yeah, you're telling me. Oh, and apparently I'm bratty. Who knew." You laugh and walk into your room, closing the door, "Apparently these people throwing this party have something my dad wants -

Or needs." You sigh, "I don't know."

"Why do you have to go, though?" She asks and you shrug to yourself, "Because Colby is helping my dad get this back and it's the least he can do for him because Colby requested me or whatever.." You plop down on your bed, "Who knows. My bratty attitude cut it short."

She laughs, "Yeah.. you're really on a roll."

"That's what I said!" You pull your phone away, "Hang on, I'm getting another call." You hit the green circle, "Hello?"

"Just thought I'd like to say thank you for agreeing to be my date tomorrow night."

You know the voice, it was like nails on a chalkboard to you, "Bye." You pull the phone away and you can hear him yelling, "Wait, wait, wait!"

"You got three seconds to tell me why you called me." You chew on your lip, bouncing your leg as anger rolls through your body.

"I just wanted to tell you myself, that I'm happy you actually accepted my invitation."

"Fuck you."

"Whoa, hey. Easy there, sweetheart. I'm just trying to be nice." Colby chuckles and you roll your eyes, "Take it to someone who actually cares."

"Come on, y/n. You can't hate me forever."

"Watch me." You hang up, going back to your call with Leslie, "So that was Colby."

"Huh!? What happened?" She asks surprised and you sigh, "To tell me all about how he's excited to spend time with me and how he's thankful I agreed to go on this date, blah, blah. Fucking blah."

A sudden twinge of integument twist in your gut and you sit up, "I kinda wanna go." You admit and she laughs at your words, "Did you just hear yourself?"

You laugh, "No I mean so I can get this box before Colby does. Prove to my dad that he doesn't need Colby.."

Hopefully she buys that. You actually were kind of excited to go, until it hit you that you're going with Colby again, "Fuck, I don't want to go at all."

"Then don't."

You laugh at Leslie's words, "If that was even possible, I would, but I don't think I have a choice. You know my father."

"Yeah." Leslie sighs, "I do."

"He's having dresses brought over in the morning. I have to pick one and if I know my dad, they won't be anywhere near my style." You stare up at the ceiling, mind spinning about the possibilities of tomorrow night.

"I'm sure they won't be that bad. Let me know which one you pick. I'm sure it'll be alright." Leslie yawns, "I'm heading to bed."

"Alright. Love ya."

"Love you!"

·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Y/N." Your father calls, waking you up, "I need you down here!"

You let out a groan, "Coming!" You kick the blankets off of you, sitting up as you rub your eyes.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Your hands snap away from your face, glaring at the figure sitting in the chair by the window. You blink a few times, "Jesus Christ. If you're planning to kill me just fucking do it already."

"Far from that, sweetheart." Colby says moving forward to sit on the edge of the chair. You roll your eyes, "Don't call me that."

"Why not, darling?"

"Or that, fuck." You huff, "Get out. Why are you here?"

"Oh now you want to know why I'm here.." he stands up, "After you just told me to, what? Get out?" He walks over to you, standing a few inches away.

You lick your lips, rolling your eyes slightly as you sigh, "I don't need to see you anymore than I already don't want to."

Colby chuckles, reaching out to drag a hand up your bicep, "I think you want to see me."

You yank your arm away, "And why exactly would I want to see someone who humiliated not only my father but me as well?"

"I didn't humiliate you."

"Sure you didn't. You disrespect my father, you disrespect me, now get out before I call Rio in here to kick your ass."

Colby chuckles, "Please. I think your father would be quite pleased that I'm in here with you."

"I beg to differ." You turn, grabbing a sweatshirt to throw over your tank top clad body, "Don't make this anymore painful than it already is."

"Who said it was painful? I'm actually very excited about tonight." Colby crosses his arms, smiling as he watches you put your hair into a bun, "I can't wait to see which dress you choose."

"Of course you already seen them." You roll your eyes and he scoffs, "Please, you act like I'd let him pick out something ugly for you to wear."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Thanks." You scoff and turn, stopping before you open the door, "You better be gone by the time I come back."

"Trust me. I will. I don't want to spoil the surprise of which dress you bring up. Saving the excitement for later." He winks and you make a face, shaking your head as you make your way down the steps.

"Ah, morning sweetheart." Your father opens his arms, motioning at the four dressed that are on a mobile clothing rack, "Take your pick, my darling daughter."

You smirk slightly, shaking your head as you look over the fact that he's trying to suck up from last night, for his own good.

Your eyes move over the dresses, "This one is too fluffy." You point to the pale pink one, "I don't like all the ruffles on that one." You look away from the dark green one to a light blue one, "I don't like this one either. It's not long enough, nor short enough."

"Do you have to be so picky, my dear?" Your father sighs lowly and you shrug, "Sorry. I just.." your eyes move to the black gown that's hiding behind the blue one, "Wait.."

You take the gown off the rack, looking over the soft black fabric, "Can I try this one on?" Your father nods, "Of course you can."

You nod, walking back up to your room. You bite your lip, slowly opening the door to make sure Colby is actually gone.

By the time your door is fully open and Colby is in no line of sight, you hear the door open and your father greets Colby, "There he is! Come in, Mr. Brock."

You move into your room, shutting the door and making sure to lock it. You lay the dress down on the bed, slipping off your pajamas before pulling the dress up your legs and slipping your arms through the thin straps.

You walk over to the mirror, admiring the black spaghetti strap dress, "Oh." You bite your lip as you shift your weight, watching as your leg is revealed through one high slit going up the side, "Shit."

You couldn't lie, this dress made you feel beautiful, powerful, too.

"Y/n." Your father knocks on the door, "Hows it fit?"

You walk over, opening the door and stepping back, "it's alright." You look down and your father gasps, "You look beautiful, sweetheart."

You smile, still slightly hating him for making you go to this bullshit party, "Thanks, dad." You lay your hand on the door, "Why is Colby here?"

He chuckles, "Oh yeah, we're just going over some stuff about the party tonight. Filling him in on where the object of my needs may be hiding."

"Shouldn't I be filled in, too? Considering I'm also going." You shrug and your father nods, "You know what. You're right. Come down to my office when you've changed."

You watch him turn and walk away and you shut your door, changing quickly before going back down stairs.

You knock on the office door and Rio opens it, "Good morning, y/n."

"Morning, Rio." You move into the room and clench your jaw when you see the back of Colby's head. He turns, "Good morning."

You roll your eyes, not giving him another word.

"Sweetheart, Colby said good morning." Your father stares you down as you walk over to the chair next to Colby, "I heard him."

"Stubborn one she is." Your father looks at Colby and he shakes his head as he holds his hand up, "Don't worry about it Mr. y/l/n."

"Okay. So where were we?" Your father looks down at the folder, "Right, right." He sighs and looks up, "I'm going to have to say that it's in one of these back rooms here. Y/n." Your father looks at you and you look at him, "Yes?"

"You still know how to pick locks right?"

You feel Colby look at you with such surprise, "You can pick locks?"

You nod, "Yes. Ever since you taught me." You motion to your dad and he smirks, "That's my girl. You're probably going to need to pick at least three of them."

You nod, "Okay." You tilt your head, "Won't these people know who I am? Being your daughter and all?"

Your father shakes his head, "They shouldn't. These people are very underground. None of them have that social media stuff like you do."

You laugh slight, "alright."

"So you'll get there, mingle around. Colby will know a lot of people there." Your father motions to him and he nods, "That's right."

You roll your eyes, "Surprised you haven't wronged them yet, either."

"Y/n." Your father's tone is stern, "Can you just.. please. Keep your side comments to your damn self."

"Yes, father." You cross your leg over the other, interlocking your fingers to lay over your knee, "I'm all ears. My lips are sealed."

He rolls his eyes, looking back to Colby, "So we've pretty much gone over all of it already, so you'll just need to go in there with confidence and I promise I'll have your reward when that golden trophy of a box is sitting on my desk."

"I won't let you down, sir." Colby nods and you're fighting the urge, hard, not to mock him.

"Y/n. Do you have any questions?" Your father looks at you and as you open your mouth to speak, he cuts you off, "Yes. You still have to go."

"Then no." You huff quietly and your father nods, "alright, so it's set then. Mr. Brock will be back here around six tonight to pick you up, so be ready by then."

You nod and motion to the door, "Can I go now?" He nods, "Yeah, you're free to go."

·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You sat at your vanity, staring at your freshly makeup painted face as you dreadfully await the arrival of Colby.

You bend down, buckling the ankle strap of your gold strappy heels before standing up and walking over to the mirror to give yourself one last look.

You turn your head as you hear the faint sound of your father greeting Colby.

"Fuck." You take a deep breathe, "You have no choice." You tell yourself, "You have no choice. You have to go." You grab your purse, checking to see if you have everything.

Lipstick, check.

Phone, check.

Compact mirror, check.

Lock picking set, check.

Gun, just in case, check.

You brush your hair off your shoulder, letting out a long sigh, "Okay." You walk over to the door, slowly opening it and closing it behind you once you step out.

You make your way down, heels clacking with each step.

That draws the attention Colby and your father have on each other, to you. Colby's mouth parts slightly, "That's a beautiful dress, sir."

Your father nods, "That's the only one she didn't have anything negative to say about."

Colby chuckles, eyes on you as you walk over to them, "You look amazing."

"I know." You smile as you look at your father, "I guess we'll be back." He nods, "I'll be waiting." He leans in to peck your cheek, "Be nice."

"Yeah Colby." You snicker and your father tilts his head, "I was talking to you."

"Yeah, yeah." You bat the air as you walk away, going towards the door. As you reach for the knob, Colby's hand cuts you off, "Allow me."

"Mm." You roll your eyes, walking out and down the steps to the blacked out Audi that's sits at the bottom of the steps, "This is yours?" You point and look over at Colby.

He smirks, "You act like you're surprised or something." He walks over, opening the passenger door, "After you."

You fight back a smirk as you slide your body into the vehicle, moving your dress before he closes the door. You look around at the black and red interior as he walks around to get into the drivers seat, "All set?"

You nod, "Don't have a choice."

The whole ride was silent. You didn't bother to make small talk because you really didn't want to hear what Colby had to say.

"Alright, darling. I think we're here."

You look up, seeing a very lit up venue. It was super luxurious, but it's definitely a place you and Leslie would be seen at so you're not surprised.

"This place is huge." You mumble as your eyes scan over the brightly lit windows, "Jesus."

"Yeah, Oliver and his wife, Eloise go all out for these things." Colby gets in line for the valet and sighs, "They're good people, or were good people."

His voice trails off and you look over at him, mainly asking because you're nosey, "What happened?"

He chuckles, "They just.. think they own everything, I guess."

You felt like there was something he wasn't telling you, but at the same time, you just cared about getting in and getting out as fast as possible.

"Yeah, I know people like that." You look out the window, getting ready to get out. Colby chuckles, "Was that a shot at me? I feel like that was a shot at me."

You snort, "If the shoe fits, Colby."

He shakes his head, smirking as he pulls up and puts the car in park. He gets out and you watch as he walks around to open your door, "Come on." He holds his hand out and you hesitate at first, but you take it, letting go as soon as you're out of the car.

"Last name sir?" The valet attendant asks pulling out a little card.

"Brock. First name Colby."

The valet attendant nods, "Good to see you, Mr. Brock. Enjoy tonight."

Colby's arm snakes around your waist, "Plan on it." He winks at the guy and walks you up the wide red carpet.

"I hope you don't plan on it with me." You mumble with a laugh and Colby sighs, "you never know, y/n. Feelings might change by the end of the night. " He smiles down at you before walking you through the doors.

"Highly doubt that." You mumble as you walk with him. Your eyes scan across the room, watching as the rich mingle with the other rich.

Colby leans down, pulling you from your gaze, "Need a drink?" You nod, "Yeah. Please." He walks you over to the long bar on the side, sitting down on the bar stool as he waits for the bartender to come up.

"Brock. Where the hell ya been buddy?" The blonde bartender says leaning in to Colby, "We miss ya around here."

Colby chuckles, pulling you closer to him, "oh ya know." He nods towards you and the bartender's eyebrows raise as his eyes scan over you.

"Been keepin' her hidden from guys like you." Colby jokes and the bartender laughs, "I can see why." He whistles, "She's gorgeous."

You laugh slightly, "Thanks." You glance down at Colby's hand resting on your hip, fighting the urge to bat it away. Mainly because the more of a fight you put up, the longer you'll be here.

"What can I get ya to drink?"

"I'll just take a chardonnay, please." You look over your shoulder at a group of people who's growing louder.

"That's the hosts." Colby confirms and he looks back, "I'll just do a whiskey. Neat, please."

"Chardonnay and whiskey. Coming right up." The bartender nods as he grabs two different glasses before walking away.

"You know him or something?" You mumble as your eyes scan over his half buttoned button up. He nods, "Yeah, his name is Sam. We grew up together but we ended up on two different paths, so the only time we see each other is when I come to these things." He sighs, "I came to a lot of them, then I stopped for a while and now we're here."

You look up at him, nodding, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Wasn't really a sob story."

You scoff, "that. That right there." You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you look away. Colby chuckles, "What are you talking about?"

"You're just an asshole."

"I'm the asshole?" Colby laughs and you raise your brows, "Are you saying that I'm the asshole?"

He shakes his head, "No I would ne-"

He's cut off by Sam bringing your glasses, "Whiskey for the gentleman." He sets Colby's glass down and looks over at you with a smile, "Chardonnay for the lady."

"Thank you." You smile, taking a sip of it, "That's very good." Sam nods, "Oh yes. Best seller here at the old Montgomery House."

"They treating you right?" Colby asks and Sam's face goes soft, "Yeah. For the most part." Colby leans in, "Say the word and I-"

"Colby. It's fine. I'm good."

Their exchange makes you feel like there's more to the Montgomery's that everyone been leading on.

You watch Sam's facial expression, he remains calm and cool and Colby looks like he's getting mad, "I'm serious Sam."

"I'm serious, Colby. I'm good." Sam's eyes move over to people walking up behind you and he nods, "Enjoy your evening."

Colby look away and smiles, "Oliver. How's it going?" Colby spins you around subtly and places you between his legs, "Go with it." He whispers before a very fancy dressed couple walks up, "Mr. Brock. How are you this evening?"

Colby nods, sipping his whiskey, "Can't complain." He motions to you, "This is my fiancé, y/n." You freeze& slightly at the words, forcing a smile as you reach out to take Oliver's hand, "Hello, Mr. Montgomery."

He nods, "Y/n." He brings your hand to his lips, pressing them gently to his knuckles before stepping aside, "This is my wife, Eloise."

The short woman gives a nod, "Hello."

You smile, "I love your earrings." She smiles and reaches up to lay her hand under one of the dangly diamonds, "Oh, these old things." She laughs slightly, "I've had these things for ages."

"Well they're beautiful." You continue to smile and she nods, "Thank you, honey." She looks over at Colby, "You're staying out of trouble, I presume?"

Colby nods, "Yes ma'am. No trouble at all."

She nods, "That's what I like to see."

You now realize that you have absolutely no backstory on anyone here, especially Colby. You just have the idea of what you painted of him in your mind.

"Of course." Colby finishes his drink and sets it down, motioning to Sam for another one. You swirl your wine in your glass, sipping on it as Colby and Oliver continue to talk.

"Your dress is absolutely beautiful. It's so simple, yet the way the dress lays is beyond stunning." Eloise looks it up and down before meeting your eyes.

You tilt your head, "Colby actually got it for me. He said I had to wear my best dress, so.." you lay your hand on his shoulder, "You can thank him."

"Very good taste in clothing, as always." Eloise smiles and everyone's attention is caught off by someone tapping a knife to their glass, "If everyone would please put your hands together for the hosts of tonight's party, Mr. Oliver Montgomery and his very beautiful wife, Eloise."

"That's our cue." She cuts Oliver's conversation, "Come on sweetie." Oliver nods, "very good to meet you, y/n. Keep this one in check." He pats Colby's shoulder and you laugh slickly, "I'll do my best."

As soon as their backs are turned and they're making their way through the crowd, you push yourself off Colby, "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" He asks, bringing his glass to his lips to hide his smirk. You lean in, "You know what. Fiancé?!" Your voice is a quiet yell, "Are you fucking serious?"

He shakes his head, "Relax. Not like you'd ever want to marry me."

"Got that fucking right." You lean back against the bar, looking around as you take a big gulp. Colby stands up, "Come on. We have to find the rooms." He takes your hand in his, "Did you bring your gadget?"

"Brought a few." You snicker and Colby stops, turning to face you, "Y/n. This is serious."

You step back, "Dude, I know." You shrug, "Can't I make a joke?"

He sigh and turns, taking your hand into his again, "Not when our lives are on the line."

"What?" You stop, pulling him to you, "What the fuck did you just say?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing. Let's just-" he tries to pull you but you do your best to stay still. He looks around, nodding at people that walk by, "I'll explain as you're picking the locks open. Now come the fuck on."

You're shocked at how quickly his mood changed.

"Colby.." you ask and he ignores you as he leads you towards the back of the ball room, "Colby.." you squeeze his hand and he just holds on to yours tighter.

You sigh, throwing in the towel with trying to get his attention. You make your way to the back wall and Colby pushes the door open, "This way."

He lays a hand on your lower back as you walk through, following right behind you. He looks behind him to make sure no one followed you and sighs, "Alright. Your dad said it would probably be down one of the other hallways or something."

"Did my father threaten your life?"

He ignores the question, pulling out his phone as he looks at the slightly blurry map on the screen, "This way." He points, looking around as you round the corner, "Okay now this way."

"Colby."

"Colby.”

He stops, quickly pinning you up against the wall, "Goddamit y/n. Just fucking stop."

You stare up at him, "Let me. The fuck. Go."

"Fucking hell." He whispers and steps back as he slowly lets you go. He turns, running a hand through his hair, "Just.. Come on."

He starts to walk away and you try to piece together as to why Colby's acting so different but nothing is make sense to you.

"Here." He point to the door and looks around, "This one." You unzip your small purse, taking out your lock picking tool and you kneel down while Colby stands guard.

A few seconds later, Colby walks back up to you, "A little faster would be nice."

"Do you want to do it yourself?" You snap, keeping your eyes glued to the lock. He sighs, "Just.. hurry."

"Trying my best here, Colby." You roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out slightly as you focus. Soon you hear a click and you look up, "We're in."

He pushes the door open and inside is an empty room with nothing by a table in the middle of it.

"Your dad said there wouldn't be cameras.. why? I don't know. But.." he leans in, looking around, "I don't see anything."

You walk in after him, closing the door quietly behind you, "Why does he want this so bad?" Your fingers graze over the cool gold colored box, "What's so special about-"

Colby moves to you, laying a hand on your waist as you hear shuffling outside the door, "Don't do anything." He whispers as quietly as possible into your ear.

You nod, biting down on your lip as you wait for the sound to pass. You let out a sigh, "Fuck." Colby looks around, opening the drawer thats in the wall, "What the fuck?"

You walk over, gasping as you see a photo of your mother and father, "Why do they- that's my mom and dad."

Your mind starts racing and you shake your head, "Did they-" you lay a hand over your mouth and look at Colby, your mind going to the worst, "Did you ki-" you sigh, trying not to cry, "Are you why my mom died?"

"What? No. Of course not." Colby steps towards you and you back up, "I told you I didn't fucking trust you."

"Y/n." Colby steps towards you and you shake your head, "Don't. Don't do that."

"Don't come near me." You wipe your cheek and sniffle as you watch him slowly move towards you, "I'm serious Colby, stop.. do-" you reach into your purse, pulling out your loaded gun, "I said stop."

Colby freezes, holding his hands up, "Y/n."

You stare at him, gun pointing directly at his chest, "I swear to god Colby. Don't come near me until you fucking tell me what happened to my mom."

"I told you, that wasn't. Fucking. Me. I didn't know about you until a few months ago." Colby says and you laugh, "Why should I believe you?"

He drops his hands and shrugs, "You know what, y/n." He walks up to you, pressing his chest to the muzzle of the pistol, "Do it. Pull the fucking trigger." He locks his eyes with yours, "You'd be doing me a fucking favor."

You blink, breaking your stare on his eyes and you sigh, "If you didn't then who did?"

"That's not a discussion we need to have right now. We already wasted enough time. We have to get back out there." Colby grabs the box and walks over to shut the drawer.

You stare down at the floor, gun still in hand.

"Here." Colby extends his arm out, putting the picture of your mom and dad in your line of sight, "Take it." You take the picture from his hand, staring at it for a few seconds.

"We'll talk in the car, okay?" He grabs your face, tilting your head up so you look at him, "I promise."

You nod, with a sigh, "Fine." Colby takes the gun from your hand and tucks it into the back of his pants, pulling his shirt down over to hide it.

You put the picture, along with the box he gave you, and shove them into your purse before zipping it closed.

He wipes the stray tears from your cheeks and sighs, "Let's just go out there. Pretend like you don't hate my fucking guys, and then we'll leave."

You nod, "yeah."

Your mind is still racing a mile a minute as Colby leads you from the room, your hand in his. All of the thoughts you've continued to push away, not think about for the last three years all come to the surface and you feel like you could puke.

"Colby I-i don't.. I don't feel good."

He stops, turning to you, a look of concern washing over his face, "Okay. Um." He looks around, "I think the bathrooms are this way."

He looks back at you, "You know I didn't do this."

"Now's not the time Colby." You close your eyes, talking yourself into not throwing up all over the floor.

He sighs, "Yeah, yeah. Come on. This way." He interlocks his fingers with yours, and leads you down the hallway you came in.

He peaks through the window, ducking down when someone walks by. He stands back up, "alright, quickly." He opens the door, slipping both you and him out and walking along the wall back towards the hall with the bathrooms.

You walk in, closing the door behind you and you walk to the sink, taking a deep breath to try and calm your panting, "fuck." You whisper as you look at yourself in the mirror.

You wipe away the mascara that lays under your eyes and you take a slow breath, breathing out slowly.

You stand up, smoothing out your dress as you debate on whether or not you're going to puke.

Yep.

You run into the stall, bending down to heave into the toilet. You sit up, pressing the button to flush and you rest your back against the wall.

You honestly feel like you're spinning with all of the thoughts running ramped through your head.

And for some reason, you believed Colby.

You stand up. Washing your hands and fixing yourself up before making your way back out. Colby pushes himself off the wall, "You okay?"

You nod, "mhm."

"Come on, y/n. You can't just-"

"God, can you stop saying that I can't hate you forever? Can you literally, for two fucking seconds understand that I maybe hate you for a reason?" You look at him, hands slapping your thighs, "I don't trust you."

"Why? Because I showed up to the casino a lot drunker than I felt and what.. disrespected you by calling out your father for doing something that you know damn well he did." Colby walks up to you, "I know you're in the business a lot more than you lead on. I know you run it when he's away on some other fucking god forsaken business."

"You don't know nothing." You shake hour head, "You're an arrogant, fucking asshole who thinks everyone owes you something but new flash, Colby. I don't owe you shit."

"You're right. You don't. You don't owe me anything, y/n. You're a spoiled, fucking brat who thinks everyone needs to give you something well guess what."

"What."

"I'm done trying to get on your good side."

"Why were you even trying when you knew it wouldn't work."

He shakes his head, "Doesn't matter anymore. You want me out of your life. Fine. Easy. Done."

You suddenly feel like something was being ripped away from you, but you don't know why.

"Colby- I-I-"

Next thing you know, Colby has you pushed up against the wall and his lips are on yours and you're frozen in shock, but to your surprise, you actually kiss back.

He pulls away and looks over, "Sorry. Just two newly engaged people who can't keep their hands off of each other." Colby chuckles and you look over, smiling at the older couple who are standing there.

They laugh and the lady nods with a smile, "Oh to be young again."

The gentleman nods, "yeah, but with the right person, you'll always feel like you're a teenager." He leans in, "Why do you think we're sneaking away." The older man nudges Colby with a wink before he follows the lady into the bathroom.

Your mouth drops as you look over to Colby and for a moment, it felt like you weren't just going at each other's throats.

"Oh my god." Colby laughs and sighs, eyes scanning over your face. You look from his eyes to his lips as your breathing picks up.

That kiss did something for you.

"I'll drop you off at home." Colby steps back, fixing his shirt before looking back at you, "if you're ready."

You nod, "Yeah. Yeah." You walk out with him, taking his hand into yours as you walk to the bar, pretending like you're a happy engaged couple.

"Hey Sam, we'll see ya." Colby knocks on the bar and Sam pouts, "Leaving so soon?" Colby sighs, "Yeah, lady isn't feeling too good."

"Oh yeah, put the blame on me." You cover up your angry tone with a laugh and a smile and Sam smiles, "Have a good night you two."

"We're definitely going to try." Colby smiles and leads you out to the valet, "Brock. Audi." The valet attendant nods before going to fetch the car.

You stand there, wrapping your arms around yourself as you take in everything that just happened.

Stealing from what seemed like very powerful people.

Colby's burst of anger.

Finding a picture of your parents in said couples house.

Colby kissing you, and to top it off, you actually didn't mind the kiss. You didn't feel repulsed by it like you normally did.

The car rolls up and the attendant gets out, "Have a good night guys."

"Thanks." You both mumble and walk down to the car. Colby still opens your door for you, still avoiding eye contact just like you.

He walks around to get in and buckles up before driving off. It's quiet for a few moments until you notice Colby take the wrong turn, "Where- Colby this is the wrong way."

He says nothing.

"Colby." You stare at him, "Where are we going?"

"Some place safe for right now."

"Some place sa-" you sigh, leaning back into your seat, "Where? Where is it that we'll be safe?"

"Would you fucking relax." He sighs, "You act like I'm such a bad fucking guy when you really don't know me at all." He glances over at you and back to the road.

You stay silent. Keeping your eyes on the headlight filled road in front of you. Thinking, maybe you were trying to hide something that you can't admit to.

Maybe there was actually no hatred towards him and you were just protecting yourself?

He pulls into an empty and secluded parking lot and puts the car in park. He stares at the wheel for a few moments before he breaks the silence with a sigh, "I didn't kill your mother, y/n."

Your eyes burn as the tears form a gloss over your eyes, continuing to stare out the windshield.

"But I was there when she died."

Your head snaps to him, your words choked, "W-wh-at?"

"You might not believe me, and that's okay. But I just need you to know that you're not as safe as you think you are." Colby runs a hand over his face and he sighs, "The night.." he sighs again, "Fuck. Okay."

"Just tell me." You turn toward him, staring at him as he finds the will to form the words, "Your father.."

"No." You shake your head, blinking once so the tears uncloud your vision, "Don't."

"Y/n. I'm telling the truth." Colby turns towards you, "I was working security for the Montgomery's. At one of these parties." He swallows, "and I knew exactly who they were the moment I saw your father."

"Are you.. are you in the business, too?" You sniffle and he shrugs, "Yes and no. I don't push anything, or deal with it first hand. I mainly do high class security when deals are being made."

"And my parents were.." you sniffle, "What? There to make a deal?"

He nods, "Well, more your father than anything. I was escorting them back to one of the rooms we passed and I stayed outside, listening in to make sure nothing went south.. but when I heard the gun shot.." he shakes his head, voice quiet, "It was too late."

"Your father was holding the gun that was fired and your mother was-"

"Don't. I don't need the details about her." You shake your head, "Not right now."

He nods, "I was threatened with my life."

"By my father."

"Yes. And Oliver. He was there, too." He pauses, "Eloise has no knowledge of it, from what I understand. She's always liked me. Knew me since I was a kid somehow."

You stare at the steering wheel, speechless.

"They covered it up. Said the place got robbed and your mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh my god." You whisper, covering your face with your hands, "Oh my god."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner I ju-"

"Why didn't you?" You look at him, "Seriously? Why couldn't you have just fucking told me you needed to talk to me about something important."

He scoffs, "As a matter of fucking fact, y/n. I tried. Two, three nights ago whatever. At the casino. I told you that you were going to regret not speaking with me."

"So this is my fault?" You scoff and laugh, "Of fucking course."

"That's not- no. We're not playing that asinine blame game, okay?" He sighs, "I'm here because I don't want to see you end up the same way as your mother."

"Maybe it's for the best." You shake your head and Colby lays a hand on your leg, "Don't you ever say that."

You laugh, "Why not? At this point I just ruin or lose everything I have. My own father has been lying to me. I've made a fool out of myself defending him time and time again when I really should have been, what? Running from him." You yell slightly louder, "Fuck, why am I so fucking stupid?"

"You're not stupid, you just-"

You cut Colby off, "I don't need you to fucking tell me what I did, do, need, or want. Okay?" You slam your back against the seat, "Just take me home so I can be alone."

He doesn't fight. He doesn't say another word. He just puts the car and drive and takes you home.

"Can you just please not say anything. I was told if I ever told you.."

"He'd kill you, too. Right?" You sigh, "What the fuck."

"I know it's a lot, but I'm not asking for me." Colby puts the car and park and you look at him, "What is the other reason? If you're not asking for you then who?"

He's quiet for a few moments before looking at you. You stare at him and he leans over, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in to close the space with your lips on his.

You lay a hand on his cheek, kissing back.

In that moment, you fully understand why he did everything that made you hate him.

He leans back, brushing your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you, "You have no idea how much I actually care about you."

You're at a loss for words, again. Seems like the ongoing theme of the night.

"Now come on. We have to take this to your dad." He goes to get out but you stop him, "Was this box my mom's?"

Colby shrugs, "I think, but I'm not fully sure."

You nod, "Okay." You take a deep breath, bringing down the visor to look in the mirror.

"You still look beautiful."

You look over at Colby and he smiles slightly. You press your lips together, giving him a small smile, "Alright, let's go deliver this to my liar of a father."

Colby fears that you'll step out of line, and quite frankly, he wasn't that far off.

You wanted to freak out.

Throw the box at his head.

Scream at him and ask him why he killed your mother.

You wanted to end him like he ended your mother, but you couldn't do that.

Not yet at least.

"Evening, how was the party." Rio asks as he opens the front door. You nod, "It was definitely a party." You walk in, Colby following behind you as he nods to Rio.

"Y/n. My darling daughter. I see you're back early." Your father yells from his office. Colby lays a hand on your lower back, assuring you as you walk towards the room.

You put on a facade, pretending like your life didn't just change in a measly two, three hours.

"Yeah, wasn't really that lively actually." You walk in, sitting down in the chair and Colby sits in the one next to you.

Your father looks between the two of you, eagerly awaiting the delivery, "Well? Did you happen to get in?"

You unzip your purse, setting Colby on high alert for a possible shoot out, but you take out just the box, "This is the one correct?"

Your father's eyes gleam with excitement, "It sure is." He stands up, leaning forward to snatch it from your hands without a simple thank you.

"What's so special about it, dad?" You zip your purse back, even though you're very tempted to aim the gun at your dad this time.

"It's a family heirloom that I've been dying to get my hands on." He wipes it off with a soft rag, "Your great, great grandmother owned this and I remember my father telling me that I needed to get it back."

Lies, lies and more lies.

"Oh really?" You raise your eyebrows and Colby's eyes move nervously between you and your father.

"Yes, really. Would I lie to you, my darling daughter?"

Yes.

"No." You smile, "you're right." You stand up, "If it's okay, I would like to speak with Colby upstairs. Thank him for inviting me to go with him."

Your father waves you off, eyes glued to the box, "Yeah, sure. That's fine." He looks up and points to Colby, "No funny business in my house."

Colby nods, "You don't have to worry about that sir, she still hates my guts." They laugh and your father goes back to wiping the box as you lead Colby up the steps.

"Where are you going?" Rio asks, making you stop on the stairs. You turn around, "I want to talk to Colby for a second. Dad said it was fine."

Rio nods and goes into the office and you hear the door close.

"Everyone has to know everything." You huff and lift your dress up. Colby holds the train of it up as you make your way up the rest of the steps.

You walk into your room and pull Colby in, closing the door behind him. You turn and start whispering, "I want to leave."

He lowers his voice, "Leave? What do you mean leave?" You walk over, pulling a suit case out from under your bed, "Leave. Colby."

"Y/n. I don't think-"

"You said I wasn't safe. I sure as hell don't feel safe here anymore." Your eyes move from him to the floor as you stop yourself from admitting something you fought so hard to keep hidden.

"Where are you going to go, y/n?" He walks over to you, stopping you from throwing stuff into the case, "Talk to me."

"No because you're just going to try and talk me out of it and I've made up my mind." You stay focused on throwing stuff into your case, "I can't.." your voice breaks and you sigh, "I can't stay here.. the only place.." you shake your head, stepping back as you grab a few more essential items.

"The only place what, y/n?" He watches as you keep packing, ignoring him. He walks up to you, making you look at him, "I know, okay. I know that the only place that you ever felt safe in isn't safe anymore and you need to go, but you're no-"

You sigh, "No, Colby. The only place I've ever felt safe is when I'm around you, and I just have this feeling that after tonight-." You take a sharp breath, staring up at him as your body shakes under his touch.

You hated admitting that because you hated him - or did hate him, whatever, but regardless. You're not a vulnerable person. You never showed anyone if you were hurting, mad, nothing.

But with Colby, anytime he was around, you've always had a weird sense of saftey.

He's taken aback by your words, "What?"

You push him away, "No I just-" you sigh, "we need to leave. We need to get out of here. Somewhere far. Somewhere far away from the monster that's downstairs holding the box that belonged to my mother."

You sit down on the bed, head in your hands as your mind continues to race about everything including where you're going to go.

"Okay." Colby nods and you look up at him. He swallows and sighs, "Where do you want to go?"

Your eyes fill with tears as the escape is right in front of you, "Anywhere."

He nods, "Alright. We'll go anywhere."

·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"How do we get to the car without my dad or anyone seeing?" You lay a hand on your forehead as you pace back and fourth, "I just.. if he knows I'm leaving.." you sigh trying to calm yourself down, "I don't want to imagine what he'd do."

Colby points to the window, "Your room isn't far from the ground."

You laugh, "You want me to climb out the window?" He looks at you, "It's either this or risking the chance of-"

"Okay." You cut him off, slightly loud. You lower your voice, "Okay."

"Listen, y/n. I'm just trying to help."

You nod, your voice really low, "I know. I know." You glance at your suitcase, "I have enough money in my accounts.. we'll just have to stop at different atm's or something."

"Isn't there a way you can wire it or something so you don't have to waste anymore time?" Colby asks and you shrug, "I-I don't know." You zip your suitcase, "I just need to get out of here first."

He nods, "Okay. I'll leave, ya know." He walks towards the door, "I'll park down the street or something but I'll come back for you."

You nod, "Yeah, yeah. Good idea."

He stares at you, "We'll get you out of here. Okay."

"Okay." You watch as he leaves and everything suddenly hits you. You feel like you can't breathe. You feel like your body is going to give out from underneath you.

You never imagined your life flipping upside down this bad.

You never pictured having these feelings for Colby.

You're so thrown off, you feel like your head is spinning and now you really don't know what the right thing to do is.

You question everything.

Your dad.

Rio.

Oliver.

Why you were the one who needed to go with Colby. Why your father gave you no choice.

You felt sick. Weak. Almost distorted in a way.

Your phone ringing in your purse causes you to get up immediately. You unzip it, digging through to grab it, "Hello?"

"He wasn't in his office when I went by. I don't know where he is." Colby says on the other end of the line, "I'm circling back now, just watch for me out the window."

"Okay." You hang up and there's a knock on your door, "Y/n."

Your father's voice makes you tense up, fuck.

"Coming." You quickly and as quietly as possible, move your suitcase to back under your bed. You walk over to the door and open it.

"Colby leave already?" Your father asks walking into your room. You nod, "He did."

"That's a shame, I was going to have a congratulatory drink with him, you know as a thank you for getting me this back."

"You'll have to give him a call or something. He said he was heading home, I think." You cross your arms, chewing on your lip.

"I will. I just wanted to come up and thank you, too. I was astonished that you actually managed to get it and I just.." your father sighs and holds his arms out, "Your mother would have been so proud."

Your stomach twists at his words, "Yeah. She would have been."

Your father wraps his arms around you, kissing your head, "Alright. Get some sleep. You've earned it from my view of things."

You nod, "I plan on it."

He walks over to the door, "Oh and one more thing.."

"Yeah, dad?" You look up at him and he nods, "You have a right to feel the way you do about Colby. You don't know it now, but you will."

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, "What did he do?" Your father sighs, "He's been caught up into some pretty bad ordeals. But that's something we'll have to talk about later on." He taps the door, "Goodnight."

You close the door behind him as he leaves, instantly starting to hyperventilate, "What the fuck?" You whisper, "What the fucking fuck."

You ball your fists up, gently tapping them on your forehead, "Fuck. Okay." You walk over to the window, looking out to see Colby round the corner of the house.

He motions for you to throw your suitcase down and you nod, hesitating to pull it from under your bed as what your father said swings around in your head.

He's a liar, you remind yourself, you can't trust him.

You grab your case, moving it over and sitting it on the window as you push the pane open. You ease it down as far as you can lean out and drop it.

Colby catches it, setting it down before he looks up at you, motioning for you to come down next.

You swing your leg over, feeling for a ledge before you swing your other leg over. Your dress gets caught on the window and you loose your footing, falling backwards.

You let out a scream as you fall, landing not on the grass, but in Colby's arms, "Hey, you okay?"

You look around, breathing heavy, "I think."

He moves you to your feet, "Come on." He grabs your hand leading you around the house and down through the tree that surround your house.

"Hang.. Colby.." you pull his hand, making him stop, "Hang on." You bend down, undoing your heels that are stuck in the earth, "Come on. Come on."

"Here." Colby bends down, bringing out a knife from his pocket and cutting the straps around your ankles, "Come on." He takes your hand again, pulling you along as he leads you to his car.

He opens the door, looking around as you climb in. He shuts it, quickly making his way around and gets in and starts driving.

You rest your head against the headrest, letting out a long sigh and he glances over at you, "Where to?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

After grabbing your cash from the last atm, you get back into the car and Colby looks at you, "There's a hotel about an hour away from here."

Those are the first words spoken in two hours.

You nod, "okay." You look out the window, your adrenaline winding down as you watch the darkness pass.

"Colby." You keep your eyes out the window, "My dad warned me about you tonight."

"Warned you?" He laughs slightly, "When?"

"Right before you came to the window." You turn your head, looking over at him, "He said I have a right to feel the way I do about you, said you've been in some pretty bad stuff."

Colby shakes his head, gripping the wheel tighter, "He was trying to get you to turn against me."

"But why?"

He shakes his head, “Not the time.”

“Stop the car.”

“What?” He looks over at you then back to the road with a laugh, “I’m not stopping this fucking car.”

“Colby.” You warn, “I’m serious.”

“About what?”

“If you won’t tell me then stop the car.” You reach for the handle, “I’ll tuck and roll, I don’t care.”

“No, y/n. It’s in the middle of -“

“Stop the fucking car!”

He jams on the breaks, causing you to fly as forward as the seatbelt lets you before locking. You unbuckle, winging it off of you with a loud crack to the tinted window.

“Hey, come on no-“

You get out, slamming the door shut. You turn, starting to walk away when you hear Colby get out, “Y/n. Come on. It’s freezing.”

You continue to ignore him, your bare feet carrying you down the road.

“I didn’t want you to end up like your mother.”

You stop, continuing to stare out into the faintly tail lit darkness.

“The reason your father warned you of me..” he tells out to you, “..Is because I told him I would do anything to protect you.”

You shake your head, tears filling your eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You yell looking down at the ground, “Why couldn’t you have just-“ you groan turning around.

His eyes follow you as you walk up to him. You push him back against his car, yelling as you hit his chest, “why.. didn’t.. you.. just.. fucking.. tell.. me!?”

You step back, putting your hands on your head, “What the fuck is happening?”

“I know, I fucked up. I should have just told you everything the moment it happened.”

“You’re fucking right you should have.” Anger dripping off your words, “That’s my mother we’re talking about Colby.. I-I-“

“I know.” He cuts you off slightly loud, “I know, and I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do to change it for you I would.” He steps towards you, “In a heartbeat, y/n.”

Your anger softens, turning into a bittersweet feeling.

You wanted to be mad, but with how much Colby actually cares about you, it’s hard to be angry with him.

He walks up to you, “I should have told you. But at the same time, I didn’t know what I would be getting you into and I just..” he shrugs, “I just couldn’t risk it.”

“Why?” You look up at him, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“What do you mean why?” He laughs slightly, “I think that everything I did just proves it.”

“I want to hear you say it.” You keep your eyes locked on his and his eyes move between yours, “You know why.”

“I want to hear you say. It.”

“Get in the car.” He nods towards the parked car and you laugh slightly, “No. not until you say it.”

“Why do you have to do this?”

“Do what, Colby?”

“Be so fucking stubborn.”

You laugh, “Yeah, because I’m the one who isn’t just coming out to say-“ you stop, looking back at him and he smirks, “Saying… what? Saying what y/n. Go one. Tell the class.”

You roll your eyes as his sarcasm, “You know what. I think you know.”

“Do I?”

You shake your head, “I’m not doing this.” You go to walk away but Colby grabs your arm, “I care about you.” He pulls you into him, looking down at you as you stare up at him, “I think you know that.”

He brushes hair from your face, “I think you know that you want me under your skin.” His hand drags up your goosebump ridden arm, “I think you know that you’re capable of doing more than just tolerating me.”

You swallow, looking down but he lifts your chin, “I think you know that I love you, and you’re just too scared to admit you feel the same for me.”

You say nothing, eyes focused on his lips as they move when he speaks, “You shouldn’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You say quickly, taking a deep breath through your nose and sighing, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, the fact that you haven’t pulled away from me or gave me attitude says it all, darling.” He slides his hand up to your neck squeezing slowly as he gently pushes you against the car.

You’ve never been turned on quicker in your life.

“What do you want, Colby?” You asked, forcing a slightly annoyed tone.

He chuckles, leaning in to gently plant little kisses on your neck, “You.”

Your eyes roll closed and you sigh, “Take me.”

His hand moves to turn your head, crashing his lips into yours and your arms wrap around his neck, moaning quietly as his hands work to pull your dress up.

“About fucking time.” He mumbles against your lips as he moves your hands to hold your dress up.

“Don’t ruin it.” You breathe out in a slight laugh. You hold your dress up, watching Colby drop to his knees for you in the dim lighting.

“You have no idea..” he kisses up your leg, “How many times I’ve thought about this.” He kisses up your thigh, “Thought about you.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for Colby to pull your panties completely off. You step out of them and he immediately throws one of your legs over his shoulder and leans in to make his fantasy come true.

You rest your head back on the car, moaning as you feel his tongue slip in and out of you. Nose bumping against your clit at the perfect times.

Your hand flies down, immediately gripping his hair and pulling, “Fuck Colby.” You gasp as you feel a finger slip in as his mouth moves to suck and nip at your clit that’s swelled with arousal, “s-shit.”

He looks up at you, finger moving in and out, “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about me being between these pretty little legs of yours.”

You arch your back as his fingers curls, pressing against that perfect spot, “I have.”

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckles before dipping his head back in, sucking on your clit as he adds another finger.

You grip the open door, pushing his head in with your other hand, “f-fuck. Yes, yes right there.” He thrusts his fingers a little faster, yet still making sure to stroke that little spot that’s about to send you over the edge.

You let out a loud moan, pulling his hair as you clench around his fingers. Orgasm taking over in the fullest force it can.

Panting as you feel him pull his fingers out, you look down at him. He smirks and brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as he maintains the strongest eye contact, “So fucking good.”

He stands up, crashing his lips onto yours so you can taste yourself. He swallows your moans like they’re nothing. Biting down on your bottom lip and tilting his head back.

You let out a whimper as he lets it go and he opens the back door, “Get in.”

You don’t hesitate. You move and get in, sitting down at you face him with one leg on the seat, other one down with your foot on the floor.

Dress still around your waist.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” He undoes his belt, zipping coming down with such ease, “You know that?”

Your teeth hang onto your lip as you nod, “Mhm.”

Colby chuckles as he crawls into the car, body hovering over yours, “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” You ask innocently and he chuckles, shaking his head, “You are such a brat.” He leans down to kiss you, pushing your leg open more and hooking it over his arm. He pushes his cock into you, both moaning and he sighs, “I fucking love it.”

His lips are on yours as he gives you absolutely no time to adjust to him. He pulls out, slamming back in and you moan louder than you have so far. Your fingers slip under the loose collar of his shirt and your nails dig into his skin, “C-Colby.”

You already feel like you could cum again, your body twitching as his cock slams into you, getting immense pleasure with each thrust.

His hand slides up, lying on your neck to squeeze, you let out a squeaked moan as your body arches. Your legs locking around him as he fucks you through orgasm number two.

“That’s it.” Colby moans lowly into your ear, “That’s my fucking girl.”

You let out a strangled whine, clinging to him as your hand tugs the hair that’s intertwined around your fingers, “S-shit.” You gasp, moving your head to kiss him.

He lets go of your throat and your lips move roughly against one another, and he pulls away, “Where do you want me?”

Heat of the moment you may say, but you waste no time, “In me.”

“Fuck.” Colby groans, and you feel his cock twitch. That was enough for him. He coats your walls, holding onto you in anyway he can as he moans against your neck, leaving a dark mark before pulling away with a sigh, “You were made for me.”

You smile, chest still rising and falling at a great speed, “sure I was.” You lay a hand on his cheek and your eyes move over his face.

“You mean, I sure was. Right?” He asks with a smirk and you just smile up at him.

You wanted to apologize for being such a bitch to him, but headlights in the distance cut it short and you’re both scrambling to get back upfront.

Colby slams the back door and gets in, quickly driving off as soon as his door is shut.

The car passes and you let out a laugh that gets Colby to laugh. After a few moments of laughing about what just happened, you let out a sigh, “I still hate you.”

“I’m sure you do.” His hand sneaks under yours, holding onto your leg as your rests on top, “You can prove just how much you hate me when we get to the hotel.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Thanks for reading! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you liked it!

Also, in the cover for this. I know I have a picture of a couple on a bike - I totally forgot about that and made him have a car instead. I realized after I wrote it, so just ignore that. I might go back in later and fix it. I just wanted to get it out for you all. Sorry!!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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lyomeii · 10 months

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adorable and innocent

✥ warnings: yandere themes, platonic relationships, spoilers, death mentions, reader being neglected.

✥ request by anon! Hello! Can you do yandere Athanasia and Yandere Claude with Innocent Reader who is Claude daughter but Athanasia younger sister?

✥ a/n: yes, i can! anon :) also the end might be quiet rush since i didn’t know how to end so yeah.

✥ the second daughter of claude was different from athanasia. born from a contract marriage with a noble lady, the little girl grown up to be lonely most of her time at the palace. since father was always busy with his work or preferring to be by himself and mother who was dead due a carriage accident earlier that year.

✥ even with the lack of parenting from both sides, that didn’t stop the young girl to become someone kind to the servants and to athanasia herself. the two girls who were ignored by their parents become closer to each other, become each other pillar as everyone were against them. inside their little minds, nothing could go wrong.

✥ until that very day when athanasia was accused of poisoning jennete and sentenced to death. that moment made you cry in the middle of the public, begging father that athy would never do such thing to anyone, but he didn’t listen your pleads. athanasia lost her life and you lost your sister that day, making you become depressing and once of age, you were thrown into a loveless nobleman from another empire.

✥ in the new timeline, athy won’t left that happen. knowing about how the plot will happen, she will rewrite the tragic destiny between you and her, making sure they both of you will get the happy end that you always dreamed about it.

✥ first, when your biological mother died, instead of searching for claude for any type of emotional support, athy was the one who comforted you. the tears of your eyes dirty her nightgown was more than enough to realize how precious you are too this words, she can’t afford to lose you again.

✥ times goes on, athy and you grown up to become closer than ever. unfortunately, things take a different turn when both of you first meet claude that day. the emperor stares at both athy and you.

✥ claude forget about the existence about the two of you, he can’t deny that. yet, the blond never expected to see the two of his children together and playing with jewelry at the back of the garden. he can’t change the past, of course, but he change the way he will treat the two of better for now on.

✥ athy plan wasn’t to make claude care about her and you, yet she can ask him for jewelry and maybe gold for the future escape. but for some reason, she feels bad about me it.

✥ despite all the pain you’ve been through, your naivety always lead you to wish for claude affection since she can remembers and now, you’ve catch his attention alongside with gifts and candies that bring a sweet smile on your face. maybe staying around the palace is a better way to protect you.

✥ now the two of you live a better life as Claude recognize their daughters. the servants now treat you so diligently and care about your safety, not letting you go out of the palace since the emperor himself ordered to all the residents that unlike athanasia, you can’t never leave home alone. his words were clear and sharp to those who serve him, and those who disobey him will suffer.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

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targaryen-dynasty · 5 days

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HEAVY IS THE HEAD THAT WEARS THE CROWN.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle and niece), kinda non/dub con, p in v, semi public sex, doggy style, degrading, slapping, possessiveness, jealousy

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: This is something I had written and posted on another blog when I (rightfully so) didn't feel accepted and wanted in fandom. So, if any of you remembers this, it was written by me. This is Lingo Jam High Valyrian (it is what it is).

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

It’s way past the Hour of the Owl as you stand in the Throne Room all by yourself, all the tables for the guests of your coronation feast having already been cleared and stored away by the keep’s staff, leaving the room to be eerily quiet and empty.

You stand in front of the intimidating Iron Throne, looming in the dim light of the candles around you, your fingertips barely brushing the sharp swords that were used to forge it by your ancestors, reminiscing about all the times you’ve seen your father sitting on it.

Unlike your grandsire and father before you, you chose to wear the Conqueror's Crown and wield his sword, the big, square-cut rubies complimenting the red and gold gown you wear.

The heavy doors leading to the intimidating chambers open behind you, but you don’t turn around, knowing all too well who intrudes the silence and serenity. His footsteps are heavy, bouncing off the thick columns and walls on his way.

“Skoros iksis ziry ao jeldan naejot ȳdragon naejot nyke nūmāzma?” you ask, but before you’re able to turn around, the weight of your husband’s chest against your back pushes you forward, the ostentatious crown on your head toppling to the ground at the impact. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?

Both your hands immediately seize the armrests of the Iron Throne for support, more so when Daemon’s hand falls to the place between your shoulders to keep you exactly like you are, bowed forward with no chance to move.

“Hm,” he hums, applying just a bit of pressure to your back. “How about the wanton farce you put up for that cunt of a Lannister?” he growls, and it’s clear it is not a question but an accusation.

There is not one breath wasted when he rucks up the skirts of your gown and bunches it around your waist, fisting it with one of his large paws. The matter clearly is serious, and has occupied him for quite some time now, considering he prefers to answer you in the Common Tongue rather than High Valyrian.

But it’s not like you have much time to really process the meaning behind it, considering he has the skirt of your dress in his hand in one moment, and your small clothes pulled down to your knees in the next. Your cunt is exposed to the chilly air of the Red Keep, and to anyone that chooses to intrude on such an intimate and disgraceful scene, and much to your husband’s surprise, you’re soaked with anticipation, which earns you a condescending scoff from him.

He has quickly figured that there isn't going to come any reply from you, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the little predicament you’ve found yourself in, and forces a gasp from your lips as his hand not-so-gently collides with your bare rear.

Your body slightly lulls forwards to escape the stinging pain that blooms on your skin, but to now avail. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you press with despair audible in your voice.

But he just scoffs again. “Oh, I’m certain you don’t,” his voice is sharp, and the words underlined by another slap to your arse. “Need I remind Your Grace who they belong to?” The title is spoken in a way to make a mock display of his courtesy, displaying how little care he holds over your status at this moment.

You’re not quite sure what he is up to when you feel and hear him shifting and fumbling behind you, although you have a mild guess, until you feel the tip of his hard cock pressing against your soaked cunt. He pushes in even before you can answer, any words or pathetic protests dying on your tongue and replaced by a moan.

“That’s what I thought,” he says more to himself, his tone suddenly taking on an air of smugness. His words are followed by a groan that flows into a heedless sigh as he bottoms out completely, his heavy stones pressing against your pearl.

It’s a side to Daemon you haven’t seen or experienced before, despite growing up around him, his several liaisons and wives. There has never been something akin to jealousy coursing through his veins before. Yes, Daemon has always been a little too rough, too impatient and resolving matters by force rather than diplomacy, but you’ve never seen his blood run this hot.

His upper body slightly bends forward and towers over yours as he rests one hand on the backrest of the Throne, the other still on your hip with your skirts tightly secured.

“What–” the words catch in your throat, replaced by a whimper. “What if anyone sees us?”

“Jaelan zirȳ naejot ūndegon,” he growls. “Jaelan zirȳ naejot gīmigon bona iksā ñuhon.” I want them to see. I want them to know that you’re mine.

The whine you release at that is nothing short of desperate. While the thought of anyone catching you two frightens you to the core, you enjoy the possessive side of him, reveling in his desire just for you since you’ve shared it most of your life with your younger sister.

Pulling out of you almost completely, the tip of his cock is the only thing that remains buried inside of you. While the feeling of the sudden loss makes you whine and push your hips back to force him inside again, it also earns you another harsh slap that’s served to your arse.

“Ao sagon ñuhon se mazemā skoros nyke tepagon ao, iksis bona shifang?” You're mine and you take what I give you, is that understood?

Daemon then slams his hips into yours as a warning, filling you up in a swift thrust that has you gasping, and knocks the air straight from your lungs. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon nyke ivestragon ziry arlī,” he snarls. “Gaomagon. Ao. Shifang?” Each word is punctuated with a harsh snap of his hips. Don’t make me say it again. Do. You. Understand?

“K… kessa,” you hiccup. Yes.

The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip on your hip to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing off the walls of the Throne Room.

His stones are heavy and the fleshy pouch they sit in slightly sagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he fills you to the brim, and sending shivers to the soles of your feet.

Daemon forces your hips higher until you’re standing on your tiptoes for him, your body barely supported by his fingers digging into your hip. The angle changes with that, allowing him to shove his cock into you even deeper than before – a change that has him groaning and grunting over and over again.

Your eyes lull into the back of your head, and the heat in your belly doesn’t diminish, causing a renewed wave of arousal to leak out of your core.

Not caring if the skirts of your gown are riding down again, he grips the back of your neck firmly enough so you can’t turn your head, fucking you as if his life depends on it and knocking every breath clean out of your lungs.

Daemon forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against the Iron Throne with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process.

With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs to tremble, his hand that rests on the Iron Throne coming down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease.

“Qilōni gaomagon ao sytilībagon naejot?” Daemon groans, pulling you back onto his cock and fucking you through your peak. Who do you belong to? It’s almost as if he’s asking for your reassurance, wanting to be sure of your feelings for him.

“A… ao,” you hiccup. “Ik… iksan aōhon.” You. I’m yours.

His peak crashes over him with your reassurance, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your cunt. His hands trail up and down your sides in nothing else than pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if the pressure has fallen off his shoulders.

He cups your arse with both hands, and squeezes your flesh. When he doesn’t make any move to pull out of you, however, it’s clear that he is relishing the way your drenched cunt embraces his flaccid cock.

“No one will make you feel as good as I do, dōna ābrazȳrys, and certainly no Lannister,” he rasps. “He would not know how to handle the Blood of the Dragon. You were made for me, and you belong to me. Always have, always will.” Sweet wife.

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

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undiscovered-horizon · 11 months

Text

"Espionage" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Lord de Witt is throwing an exclusive banquet for socialites - just the perfect opportunity for Kaz to put his hands on whatever the aristocrat has in his safe. Fortunately, being an ambassador's daughter, you can easily smuggle him in but the two of you must pretend you're engaged to avoid suspicion.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

If Jesper didn’t know Kaz, he’d think he was having a laugh.

“When you said you know someone, I was expecting everything but the daughter of an ambassador.” Then, in a slightly anxious manner, he turns to look at you apologetically. “No offence.”

There is something quite amusing in his uneasiness as though Jesper is expecting to be decapitated for as much as giving you a sour grimace. You’re probably the closest thing to nobility he’s ever been around.

“Worry not, sir,” you reassure him with a polite smile on your face, “I will try my best not to spoil your criminal quality.”

His eyebrows furrow and he leans towards Inej. “Did… did she just call me ‘sir’?” he asks quietly.

“Don’t get used to it,” she answers half-heartedly, busy pondering something else.

“How do you even know each other?” Jesper points between you and Kaz but the moment his index finger is directed towards you, he quickly puts his hand down. “I doubt you’ve been to the Barrel before.”

To any passerby, the sight of you and the Crows standing next to each other must look like a skit. With your expensive, light-coloured dress and back about as straight as a broomstick, you really do stand out like a sore thumb. Are those lowlifes bothering a proper lady or is she perhaps noble enough to offer them a few coins?

“That’s quite right. When my father was fraudulently accused of conspiring against the crown, mister Brekker,” out of pure habit you vaguely gesture towards him, “had been so kind as to solve this perplexing hoax. It is only fair that I agree to help him when he asks.”

Kaz checks his watch. Then, his expression suddenly becomes stern, focused, and you know exactly what it means.

“We should go,” he states. His eyes have a strange glint of both coldness and concealed worry to them. “There’s no backing out now.”

Your polite smile doesn’t falter. “I wasn’t considering such a thing.”

The dearth path around the lawn in front of the manor is blocked with countless carriages - horses of one freight have their nostrils pushed against the rolling stock of another cart. It seems as though Lord de Witt has invited half of the continent to his exclusive banquet. Half of them, one might assume, came out of courtesy or simply because of the other guests sure to attend.

Mixing into the crowd of rich men and aristocracy, choking on the powder and perfume, you tell Kaz the basics of banquets like this:

“Let me do the talking. You’re accompanying me, which among socialites makes you akin to a show horse. Of course, someone might ask you a question but it will be pure courtesy. They don’t actually care, because they don’t know you. Answer shortly and politely.”

“Will it not raise suspicion that the ambassador’s daughter is engaged to a no-one?”

“Not if he’s a First Army veteran, wounded on the front lines by a Fjerdan savage,” you say in a theatrical manner. His perpetual frown elicits a chuckle from you. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m sure you can sell it. Besides, if you seem grim enough, which shouldn’t be a problem honestly, the guests won’t dare ask any more questions.”

The porter nods knowingly in your direction. Despite his old age, he’s quick to recognize the little lady you once were. You offer him the invitation but he waves his hand in dismissal. His fingers tremble slightly, making you wonder in all of your melancholy whether he’d still be able to do all those small magic tricks he used to entertain you with.

Following the mob of guests, you end up in a spacious ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflect candlelight, causing ethereal rainbows to dance across the frescoes painted on the ceiling. Some of the artwork presented landscapes, other battles and even Saints - all of them equally breathtaking. The hall is filled with a plethora of scents: vertigo-inducing perfume, imported fruits, freshly-cut flowers, braised meats. To Kaz, this is the smell of wealth but to you, the ballroom only smells of home.

Appearance-wise, Kaz falls a bit behind compared to the three-piece suits and cylinders but the difference is not stark enough for people to give him contemptuous glances. In all honesty, this will help you sell the yarn you’re spinning. After all, what veteran has enough money to buy a whole suit for just one evening?

“Come on, we should say our greetings to the host,” you say quietly while gently nudging his arm.

As though you are something of a Grisha yourself, the middle-aged man in question suddenly appears in front of you. His face has gained a few deep wrinkles since the last time you saw him but still, his prominent laughter lines are the first thing people notice about him. Considering what kind of person Lord de Witt is, it’s a reliable first impression - a rare occurrence among thieves and noblemen alike.

The man’s face beams with happiness when he recognizes you, his eyes nearly disappearing in a genuine smile. “Ah, принцесса!” he exclaims, opening his arms. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.” Holding your hand, he meaningfully leans down but never presses a polite kiss against your skin. Instead, he curtly nods while maintaining eye contact, uneasy at the thought of such a gesture.

“I thank you for the kind words, Lord de Witt,” you answer. “It is a pleasure to be your guest.”

He furrows his eyebrows and dismissively waves his hand. “Nonsense, you’re not just an ordinary guest. Tell me, how’s your father? Is our ambassador in good health?”

“The weather is terrible on his knees, I’m afraid. Only laudanum and nettle curb his pain enough to let him work. If I may inquire as to where Lady de Witt is? I haven’t seen her among the guests.”

Lord’s face grows brighter once again but this time there’s a sense of longing in his tired, grey eyes. “My dear Betty left for Novyi Zem just a few days ago. Ever since Lady de Serre expressed interest in her antique collection, she’s been eager to go back.”

Kaz, so far unnoticed by the aristocrat, glances between you and the man. You’re exchanging mere greetings and courtesies, yet he’s learned quite a few interesting things in just those few sentences. Nobility, as it seems, will say everything and anything as long as they think they’re talking to an equal.

His inquisitive thoughts must have pushed some Saint’s hand because Lord de Witt suddenly turns his attention to him, although continues talking to you. “The dapper young man is your husband, I presume?”

“Not yet, unfortunately,” you say with a bashful giggle - very ladylike, even if forced. “Igor Dreesen,” you introduce him. Kaz shakes the Lord’s hand without ever giving away that he’s never heard that name before. “He has fought in the First Army, on the front lines.”

“You have my eternal gratitude, gentleman.” Lord de Witt has an iron grip on Kaz’s hand, holding it significantly longer than Brekker is comfortable with. “May we all have your bravery and loyalty. Please, enjoy the evening.”

Kaz waits for the Lord to be out of earshot before turning to you. “He seems to know you well.” Maybe you’re reading too much into it or maybe there is a hint of suspicion in his tone.

“When I was younger, I used to come here every week. Valeriya de Witt, Lord’s eldest daughter, taught me embroidery. I know this manor like my own home.”

“Then you surely know where the safe is.”

“It could be in his bedroom or in his office.”

Kaz cocks his head. “So you don’t actually know.”

“I’ve met quite a few noblemen and state officials, Kaz. The older the money, the less we’re careful. De Witt’s office is next door,” you motion your head to the side.

Strolling through the ballroom towards the office door, weaving your way between gold-threaded gowns and made-to-order suits, you can’t help but wonder about the master thief by your side or rather what the world looks like through his eyes. You can recall so many gossip exchanges where a group of complete strangers would discuss their wealth and business, believing that their secrets are safe among socialites similarly to unaffiliated thugs discussing their commissions over a pint of watered-down beer. In a thief’s world, you’re something of an encyclopedia on fast enrichment. Maybe telling a secret or two could be treacherous of you but in the grand scheme of things, you think it’s not nearly enough to cover your debt.

You lean towards Kaz, speaking in a low voice. “See that lady with a scandalously huge hat? That’s lady Maria de Bouvier, harbors so much contempt towards her stepmother, she’d probably be elevated if some of the jewelry was to disappear.”

Brekker spares you a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything.

“Or that retired soldier by the pillar? Next to the girl dressed in all-white?” you ask him. His keen eye quickly finds the dark green jacket with an obnoxious amount of medals attached. “Captain Geoffrey van der Greiss, earned most of his fortune from smuggling. Open any crate with fish at the Eastern harbors and the sides of the box will be filled with cash. Yours to take if you can bear the smell.”

Kaz suddenly steps in your way, stopping you. His usual frown appears more like a scowl now. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he spits out. “You’re so eager to point me towards easy wealth. It’s not just about returning a favor, is it?”

You look away for a moment - you should have expected that if someone was to notice your motive, it would be Kaz Brekker himself. His face is still contorted into an expression of contempt or anger when your stare returns to him.

“Have you ever, even for a single second, considered what would have happened to me had my father been found guilty?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“I can’t say I have.”

“I often do. He would have been locked up in Hellgate or simply killed. The family fortune would dwindle rather quickly as my mother and I would live off of it. Then one day the money would run out, we’d have to sell our house and live modestly if not on the streets. No one would employ us because of the scandal and soon we’d find our place in a brothel. All of that did not happen because of you, Kaz.” His expression visibly softens, even if he’s doing his best not to show it. “I owe you my life.”

“I don’t want it.”

Without waiting for you to continue, he resumes walking towards the office door. Although off-limits to the guests, the manor staff is simply too busy to pay attention to anything else other than restocking drinks and food. On the other hand, the guards employed by Lord de Witt are so convinced drunk aristocracy doesn’t need nannies that they’re playing cards in some dark, isolated corner and drawing lots when someone has to go swipe some alcohol and lamb from the kitchen. Perhaps they are paid to complete much different tasks but if someone is familiar with de Witt’s banquets, they wouldn’t be exactly surprised - a scandal is yet to happen inside his manor.

You meet Kaz’s gaze but immediately regret it. There’s something both chilling with determination and burning hot with focus, making you feel rather flustered at the intensity of it all.

“Make sure no one comes in here,” he says quickly before swiftly crossing the remaining meters and sliding inside the room. For a man with a limp, he’s exceptionally agile.

Minutes go by while Kaz is absent and you begin to worry. What if someone caught him? Or if he got injured somehow? He may be something of an atelier of theft but he’s still a man, after all.

Debating whether to go after Kaz or trust his expertise, you don’t notice a young man approaching you:

“Excuse me, my lady, but you are the ambassador’s daughter, are you not?”

Torn out of your spiraling thoughts, you look up at him with wide eyes. He has a kind face with strong features. His tanned skin is in contrast with his creme-coloured suit, creating a quite enticing sight. Warm, brown eyes study you with interest.

“I am, master…” you make a meaningful pause.

The man immediately picks up on your cue. “Tolkov Ilya Romanovich. My father is the legat of Ketterdam’s Merchants’ Guild.” Contrary to Lord de Witt, Ilya doesn’t hesitate to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Oh, I have heard about you. Horse racing enthusiast, is it not?”

He gives you a flustered chuckle. “My vices precede me, I see. As does your beauty, if I may say so.”

You feel your cheeks warm up. There’s something about Western men’s charm that really gnaws at a lady’s heart. “That’s very kind, master Tolkov.”

“Lord de Witt spoke of you with exceptional fondness. I thought it only appropriate to witness your marvel myself.”

At the same time, Kaz is slipping back through the office door into the ballroom. Judging by the lack of interest he attracts, none of the guests even noticed his disappearance. He is making his way back to you, when he catches the sight of a rather dignified man politely kissing your hand. Although you don’t look swept off your feet, there’s nothing akin to discomfort on your face either. Kaz feels sudden uneasiness in his chest like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be, while being unable to place his gaze elsewhere. He doesn’t even know his face has turned into a grimace of distaste.

“You’re finally back, my love!” you dramatically exclaim when Kaz reaches you and the stranger. His expression is rid of anything pleasant but you decide to play along for now. “Master Tolkov, this is my fiance, Igor Dreesen. Darling, this is the son of the legat of the Merchants’ Guild, Ilya Romanovich.”

Legat of the Merchants’ Guild? Finally someone worth knowing of.

Kaz shakes Ilya’s hand but that marks the extent of his politeness. “I do not take kindly to anyone descending on my lady,” he says in a stern voice.

“But of course, sir.” Tolkov nods curtly. Annoyed or not, he’s proficient at keeping his face blandly kind. “My sincere apologies.”

Ilya gently bows his head towards you before leaving the two of you alone. Your gaze follows him until the man disappears among coiffures and cylinders. Then, you look at Kaz with hardly hidden amusement:

“You play your part better than I was expecting.”

Kaz, however, completely ignores your comment. “The safe isn't here. It must be in the bedroom. Where is it?”

“Upper floor. There’s the grand staircase in the vestibule but we can take the kitchen stairs, there won't be many people in that part of the mansion.”

The presence of ground floor guards is revealed only by loud laughter from behind the door leading to the staff rooms. All of the guests could just leave at once and none of them would notice. Still, you’re exceptionally careful when sneaking between the tables that are bending under the weight of food - even a small misstep, nudging one of the silver platters, could cause a cacophony loud enough that someone might hear it, even if not the guards in question.

You’re leaning against the wall when walking up the spiral stairs. Cocking your head to the side, you’re trying to look into the hall on the first floor but there’s not much you can actually see. As it appears, theft takes a lot more faith than you had previously thought.

The upper floor guards are out of sight but you don’t let yourself give in to the sudden feel of relief - this is only the first step into this little big scheme. There’s still a safe to find and an exit to make.

There’s a long, red carpet covering most of the floor. Although it muffles Kaz’s cane, it also makes the steps of the guards hardly audible. If you do see one, you’ll have to rely on quick thinking and a certain level of stupidity accredited to aristocracy.

Left turn. Pair of doors. Two right turns. Another left and another right. And then - footsteps.

“Someone’s coming,” Kaz whispers. His keen eyes are scanning the long corridor to find anything remotely close to a hiding spot. Decorative cabinets could well work but only if the unwanted passerby doesn’t walk past them.

The idea, a true testimony of quick thinking and aristocratic carelessness, hits you like a bolt out of the blue:

“Push me against the wall,” you order him.

His head snaps towards you, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen. “What?” he stutters out.

“No one likes clingy couples.”

There isn’t any time to discuss and ponder as the footsteps grow louder. Visibly displeased, he puts his arm against the wall next to your head. At first you’re wondering just how enraged your father would be had he heard about this but then you smell Brekker’s cologne and suddenly one nervousness is changed for another, a more bashful one.

The footsteps, as one might expect, belong to a lonely guard patrolling the manor. His face is grim even before he notices the misplaced lovers. When his eyes do glance at you and Kaz, the soldier’s cheeks visibly raise and the frown quickly becomes more of an expression of disgust. Passing by the two of you, he grunts in distaste or irritation and continues walking farther down the corridor.

Kaz, to your surprising displeasure, wastes no time in putting more space between the two of you when the guard is out of sight. No words are exchanged like a collective agreement to pretend this little embarrassment had never taken place. But, it can’t really hurt him if he doesn’t know you’re thinking about it, can it?

With a confident push, you open the ivory-coloured door, their golden decorations glistening in dim lighting.

Lord de Witt’s bedroom is strangely dark compared to the rest of the house. At first glance, there is nothing that stands out as a possible hiding spot for a safe: a bed that could easily fit five people, a vanity with boxes of jewelry and cosmetics, a small desk with private correspondence, a cold fireplace, a folding screen. The artisan taxidermy hanging on the walls only adds a touch of grim macabre.

But a master thief is not so easily dissuaded. You watch Kaz in a slight confusion and interest as he walks through the room, gently knocking against solid wood or carefully. brushing his hand along some surfaces. More than once he tapped different parts of the floor with his cane, only to let out a short sigh as if the strange rite gave him some kind of information but not necessarily the one he was hoping for.

Then, as though he had known all along or played a secret magic trick, he pulls the base of a taxidermied boar’s head. The decoration, for a lack of better word, moves on hinges, revealing a strongbox - one of those that will survive explosives as the manufacturer promises. The safe has a dial and a handle, rendering any kind of traditional lockpicking useless. But Kaz Brekker, as you’re about to witness, is not much of a traditional thief either:

He puts his ear against the iron box, turning the dial a few times in one direction and the other. Then, he lays his other hand on the safe’s door, his whole body leaning against it. Kaz begins slowly turning the dial in one direction. A silence falls between the two of you.

You can’t be sure whether the tension you’re feeling is because of the hallway perplexity or because he’s so determined to open this strongbox but either way, you’re completely uncomfortable with that. “To be honest, I used to be intimidated by you,” you throw at him in hopes of some kind of conversation, no matter how pointless.

“What changed?” he asks in an absent voice. His hand stops turning the dial only to start rotating it in the opposite direction - whatever he’s doing, it seems to be working.

“You have turned out to make a rather lovely spouse.”

A loud click resounds in the room and Kaz immediately pushes down on the handle, opening the strongbox. He reaches inside, pulls out some documents and quickly reads through them. Some he puts back, others he stuffs between his waistcoat and shirt.

“Such nimble fingers you have. I know a market for that,” you joke partially expecting the thief to say something sultry enough to get you to be quiet for the rest of the night.

He spares you a glance and goes back to rummaging through the contents of the safe. In an unexpected act of goodwill, he takes only some of the cash. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Even a lady of my sort has her weaknesses.”

You wait for his answer but Kaz doesn’t as much as look over his shoulder at you as though he hasn’t even heard your words. Although awkwardly, you patiently wait for him to be finished with whatever selective theft he’s committing. That tense silence again.

After a longer while, he closes the safe and locks it again. When he turns around to face you, something glistens between his fingers - a string of pinkish pearls. They flow along the shape of his hand as he offers you the necklace.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips. “I don’t want a payback, Kaz,” you shake your head to accentuate the refusal. “You have helped my family tremendously, this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand, “is the least I could do for you.”

“This isn’t payment,” he states.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

His intense gaze bores into you for a minute or two before he slowly answers. “It’s a bastard’s inclination.”

With a flustered ‘oh’, you take the string of pearls from him, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. Still feeling his passionate gaze gliding along your face, you’re a little too abashed to meet his eye. Who would have thought - a thief with a heart!

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

Text

love like this * aa23

alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce

notes: the alex albon tag is waYYYY too dry and i can't keep waiting!!! so i aM TAKING MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS!!! also, inspired by that one scene in the office

(f1 masterlist)

alex was having a great day. he'd woken up with the sun shining brightly on the right side of the bed. to make it even better, he's on his way to spend the day with you.

he had everything planned out: he has a list of activities you could do, movies you could watch, and places to walk at in case the day dragged on too long to stay in. he has a bouquet of flowers pressed against his chest and takeout from your favourite restaurant. he's very excited to finally just lay back with you after a stressful couple of weeks.

that was until you opened the door for him. you were glaring at him like you've never before with your phone pressed up against your ear..

he's in shock when you ignore his lean for a welcoming kiss. you don't even acknowledge the flowers in his hands. you just leave the door open and turn around, walking further into your apartment.

alex walks in hesitantly, slipping off his shoes. typically, he'd leave it by the door under the shoe rack. judging by your mood, however, he neatly places it on the rack.

he loses you in the apartment so he just invites himself in to place his presents on the table.

"love?" alex calls out softly, dragging his feet against the cold tiles of your apartment. "i brought us food."

he finds you in your bedroom, just having ended your phone call. "i got your favourites from your favourite downtown. care to have a meal with me, love?"

you whirl around, now tears in your eyes. "what did you say to my dad?"

alex raises an eyebrow, lips parted in shock at your accusation. he's only met your dad once - 3 days ago after flying in. he knows they clicked because he's found himself a new texting buddy. he's even secured your father tickets to the final race this year, supposedly.

"what do you mean?" alex is careful with his tone. the last thing he wants to do is end up in a fight with you.

"that was my dad on the phone," you point to the device that's on the other side of the bed with your other hand on your hip, "he called me to say that he's filing for a divorce."

alex tilts his head. he's very empathetic, truly, but it's difficult to know what to say to you when he doesn't know what's going on. as far as he knew, he didn't have anything to do with this. "i say this in the lease oblivious way possible... but, why is it me?"

you huff, looking away as tears start to fall out of your eyes. you're very close with your parents and alex knows that. "he said he knew after our dinner that night." you wipe the tears away roughly and look back at him. "what did you say?"

"i," alex trails off at a loss for words. he's trying his best to recall the evening word per word, but nothing comes up. nothing that would warrant your father wanting a divorce from you mother. "my love... i don't know. i didn't say anything to him, i swear!"

"there has to be something." you sound defeated as you drop yourself back into your bed, arms spread out as you stare at the ceiling. "they've been together longer than i've been alive. there's no way this came out of nowhere."

but he really doesn't know what it is. "do you want me to talk to him?"

"no!" you shriek, sitting up quickly at his proposition. "you've done enough, alex! don't talk to my dad!"

he stands at your door, shoulders slumped and mouth gaping wordlessly at you. you do feel bad that you're taking it out on him. but your dad didn't elaborate further when he told you. he said he'll do it in person when he arrives at your apartment.

"i'm sorry," alex finally says. "i don't know what i could have said for this to happen... but i'm so sorry."

the doorbell echoes throughout your apartment, followed by a loud knock that's softened by your distance from the door. you sigh, shaking your head slightly as you get to your feet. "that's my dad."

"okay," alex nods, walking towards your bed. "i will stay here until you've talked. okay?"

you nod, muttering back a soft "okay".

you don't say another word as you pass him. but there's a warmth that explodes within your arm when his hand wraps itself around your elbow.

"i love you," alex says, tilting his head as he anticipates your response.

you nod weakly. "i love you."

the next 10 minutes pass by very slowly. from the comfort of your bed, alex heard nothing but silence for the first few minutes. suddenly, the apartment drowned in your sobs while you dad tries to calm you down.

it took everything in him not to come out to get you in his arms. he hates it when you're upset.

he tried not to eavesdrop on your conversation. not that you'd even spoken loud enough for him to make out words from either of you. so he settled for instagram, but even that wasn't entertaining enough to keep him occupied.

so then he moved on to tiktok, but that was too overstimulating for his head. he just wanted it all to be over and have you explain everything to him.

what kept everything moving quickly was when a notification from george came through, prompting a quick game of 8ball on message. it was entertaining: the insults from george as he slowly won.

but his eagerness to shove the win in his friend's face is quickly forgotten when he hears the front door close. the phone is thrown into your duvet and he pads towards the door.

he creaks it open, popping his head through the door. "my love."

"alex," you sigh from your door, hand still clutching onto the handle. you choke back on a sob at his name, falling to your knees.

"hey!" he runs to your aid, arms instinctively wrapping around you. he brushes his fingers through your hair as he sits back and pulls you into his lap.

your face is buried in his shirt as you continue to cry.

"i'm sorry about everything, my love," he hums, cheeks resting on the crown of your head. you clutch onto his shirt with everything you've got, still in disbelief at how everything crumbled down so quick.

your parents had always been your role model. their relationship was the clear benchmark to what you looked for your whole life. never did you think that the love of your life would be the downfall of that.

"it's," you take a deep breath and exhale shakily, "it's okay."

"is it," alex isn't sure he's ready for the answer, "really because of me?"

you nod, the tip of your nails tracing the design on his shirt. "my dad..."

"i'm really sorry. did he tell you what i said that caused all this?" alex has had his fair share of separated parents. he's been through this before, but he was fairly young when it happened.

perhaps it never gets any easier despite age.

you nod again. you lift your head and scramble slowly to untangle yourself from you. "he did tell me what happened," you whisper. you crawl to the empty spot in front of alex, mimicking his position - legs crossed and back pressed against the wall.

you reach forward to take his hands into yours. "when we went to dinner and i left for the bathroom... he told me that you told him how much you loved me... and how you feel when i walk into the room.

"the way that i make everything better, especially on days where everything just doesn't seem right. and how... i make you want to be a better version of yourself," you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip tightening around his hand that you could barely feel yours. "about how sure you are that i'm your soulmate. i guess he had never felt that way about my mum even after all these years."

alex is slightly appalled. all of those were said to your dad in confidence. none of those were supposed to get back to you, because he truly believed that it could lose meaning if you find all of that out.

but you've never been loved like this before. and truly, it felt exhilarating to know that love like this exists. and you've found it in the one person that made your heart flutter when you're together.

"are you okay?"

"i'm okay," you nod. you give his hand a final squeeze before getting to your knees. you throw your arms around him, bumping your head very lightly into the wall behind him. "thank you."

"what for?"

"for loving me the way that you do."

he tightens his arms around your waist, his face buried into your shoulder. "and thank you for showing me what love really is."

#ok purr #alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon fanfic #alex albon fanfiction #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines

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0xstarzx0 · 2 months

Text

DARK RED

Rafe Cameron S2x Reader

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

synopsis: Rafe can’t lose the one person who still cares about him. If he can’t have her, no one can.

tw: smut, fingering, sex, unprotected sex, insult, penetration, vaginal sex, kidnapping, mention of murder.

______________________________________________

You walk into the huge house Cameron, to go into the bedroom your boyfriend, Rafe. It’s last time he was more than absent, forgetting your birthday. And yes it was more than two years that you dated the blond. You always believed it and put up with it.

You even stopped talking to your best friends because of it. They kept criticizing you about your choices and when John B killed Peterkin, they started accusing Rafe.

Turns out Peterkin’s killer was Rafe’s father, Ward.

His father committed suicide on his boat, Rafe is mad at the dough because of it, it rubbed off on your relationship.

Rafe was busy all the time and when you see each other, you argue. He insulted you with all the names then left you alone.

He’d end up coming back and covering you with the prettiest presents ever. You did not like it you wanted an apology and that he told you that he loved you, the word "I love you" coming out of his lips you missed. You’re in love with him but does he still love you?

You go into his room and he’s not in it, but the door is wide open. You were gonna go out when he came into the room with just a towel on his waist.

He turns his head to you and puts his things on the bed, he approaches you with nothing, you thought he would kiss you when he continues his way to the door. you raise an eyebrow and he locks the door.

He walks in your direction, you intend to tell him what you feel, when he aggressively sticks his lips on yours.

you respond to his kiss by putting your arms around his neck, he grabs thighs and forces you to wrap your legs around his waist.

his towel falls to the ground, you feel it harden under you which makes you wet. You are aggressive in each of your movements hungry by both.

He takes you to his bed and throws you on, you take off your teeshirt, and he looks at you with envy.

he throws himself on your lips and you moan when his tongue decides to possess your mouth by passing it in the latter.

He stops kissing your jaw and then lingers on your neck, you’ll probably get hickeys from him. He loosens your bra leaving your boobs

fresh from the room.

He starts kissing your left boob’s while he massages your right. He bites your nipple lightly and your head falls backwards, you moan like it’s the first time he’s done this.

He keeps kissing you everywhere, he starts playing with the elastic of your pants, he takes off your legs to take off your stockings.

he comes back on you and one of his hands ventures dangerously into your panties, he begins to massage your clitoris while his head is in your neck, you moan by tightening your thighs around his hand.

He puts two fingers inside you and smiles when you start taking your breath.

He sticks them in as far as he can, and your nails stick into the skin of his arm.

A little bit of your path won’t hurt.

You feel your climax coming back on his fingers, he takes his hand off your panties and puts the fingers he used in his mouth.

You look at him and he kisses you tenderly.

"I did it Y/N, it’s over " he says putting his hand on your cheek. You grab him and frown, "what are you talking about, Rafe?"

Rafe does not answer you and gets back between your legs, he starts to jerk his dick between his hands before rubbing it against your folds. without even warning, it sinks into you. You moan with surprise and it begins to push in you, its pushes are long and deep. He tries to adapt you to his pushes that go faster and faster and his even deeper than before.

you moan kissing his torso. He grabs your legs and puts them on his shoulders, are to be deep inside you. The bed slams against the wall and you scream with pleasure, Rafe was never gentle when you had sex you always ended up with muscle pain, bruises, or tears. You’d rather end up in tears because of his over-stimulation than with marks that make you think he’s beating you.

you grab his shoulders to be comfortable installed, Rafe accelerates his pushes by feeling your walls tighten around him, you were tighter than usual and he loves it. you reach your climax a second time and cum on his dick. He still pushes inside you before you feel sons of cum spill into you.

He takes off from you and throws himself to the side, you tremble with pleasure when he catches you to put you in his arms. I love you Y/N, if I am here today it is thanks to you, Nothing can separate us, I have the cross and.. and-" you raise your head to look at him he looks like he’s looking for his words, like he doesn’t know what to say.

"You’ll never have to worry about anything again because, I’ll be with you forever, you belong to me Y/N" he kisses you and you smile against his lips.

"I love you too Rafe and I’m not ready to leave" you kisses him and you stay glued next to each other for a good ten minutes, it is him who leaves first, he tells you to take your shower while he goes to settle business downstairs with Rose.

you blush with embarrassment hoping that she or Wheezie is nothing expected from your lovemaking. And you’re sure to be red like a tomato when you see the marks the bed made on the wall.

You get up with difficulty and Rafe laughs when he sees that you can not walk properly and decides to carry you to his shower and place you under. Then he goes back to his room quietly.

You wash, rinse, get out of the shower, get dressed and get out of the bathroom.

You come out of it and come across a glass of water and a post-it that was not there before you took your shower.

You look at the post-it and smile more beautiful looking at Rafe’s little note: «drink the whole glass of water, it is fresh it will relax you , I love you, Rafe.» " I love you, Rafe." Your heart throbs in your chest, you’re so happy for so little.

You sit on his bed, drink the glass of water in a sip, you look at your phone when your head starts to turn, your starts to go faster, you let go your phone before collapsing on the bed.

and black hole, you felt being carried by arms, a strong smell of vanilla filling your nose and nothing.

______________________________________________

you hardly open your eyes, your eyelids are heavy and you can barely keep them open.

You need several minutes to try to reopen them.

When you finally succeed, your vision is blurry. The noises that are in the room are only slow noises as if everything was passing in slow motion, Your body no longer responds, you are like paralyzed at the box spring on which you are.

Your heart accelerates when you finally get your sight back, Ward, Ward Cameron, Rafe’s father is here, alive. You try to talk but no sound comes out of your mouth.

You would like to scream with all your strength not understanding what is happening. When little by little, you finally find each of your senses.

You rise in fury, uttering a heavy grunt. Your legs are too weak to support your weight, you are forced to lean against the wall next to you.

Ward and Sarah look at you, Sarah is confused and Ward offers you a fake warm smile.

He gets up and starts to approach you when, you point him with the finger "I swear to God that if you take one more step towards me, I will cut your hands and pierce your eyes. Ward stops and a silence settles, he goes back to sit next to Sarah.

What are you doing here?

Rafe enters the room and ignores you, you remain shocked by his behavior but does not say. You desperately get out of the room but your legs are too fragile to walk properly without wavering, you end up falling.

Rafe sighs at you, he tries to catch but you growl by giving him little bangs- which were supposed to be bangs-.

Sarah frowns and looks at you. "Did you drug her?" asks Sarah. Rafe grabs you on his shoulder, he carries you and puts you back where you were. It’s none of your business, Sarah," said Rafe, putting a blanket over you.

"Of course if Rafe is my business Y/N is someone important to me!" She said, leaving you a desolate look, you look down and feel the tears coming up.

Ward interrupts their bickering by talking to Sarah again. Rafe goes to sit on a chair at the other end of the room, leaving you alone.

You don’t pay attention to what they say too focused on yourself, trying to remember what happened the night before.

Headaches cause you such pain you can’t do anything, your cheeks are flooded with tears while you cry in silence. You don’t understand what you’re doing here even less, with Ward assuming he was dead.

"That’s psychotic, both of us" said Sarah.

"I promised Rafe he wouldn’t go to the prison for helping me, I had to make good on that promise"

Your blood instantly froze. The pogues didn’t lie. Your brain gradually resembles the pieces of the puzzle. An immense uncertainty settles in you.

You love Rafe and despite what he did you know you’ll forgive him, but you can’t help but feel bad.

You have two choices: first choice, you decide to live with the fact that your boyfriend killed someone. Second Choice, despite your love for Rafe, you decide to betray him.

The tone rises in the room, and Ward stops it. You burst into tears. You fight with yourself.

"We’re gonna live a new life, all of us together." Said Ward.

"What the hell am I doing here?" you’re asking on the verge of a nerve attack.

Ward ignores you and goes, "Sarah, where I’m taking you is paradise." He goes on to say that he brings us to an island on the edge of Guadeloupe.

You blow up, none of them give you an answer. "What the hell am I doing here! You know it’s a kidnapping, what are you going to do with me..me… kill me, torture me or-" Your brain doesn’t track how fast words come out of your mouth.

Rafe throws you a bad look and you continue: "You drugged me and now you take me to the end of the continent? You know my family will try to find me." You say confident until Ward snickers and Rafe follows him.

"Your family, the one where your father is little too intimate with his children, and the mother who pretends not to see the alarming signs of aggression from the father? Believe me, you’re wrong if we’re talking about the same family."

You hardly swallow Rafe’s words, Sarah looks at you shocked now understanding why you never go home.

[. A YEAR AGO]

-You get to the Château around 10 o'clock, walk into the house of the money and they’re all there, you look like shit. Between your clothes put anything, your hair in a mess and the marks at the corner of your eyes. Nothing goes.

"Hi Y/N what are you doing here?" Kiara asks. You sit with them next to Sarah, the cologne man for men violently crosses her nostrils.

"I come to spend the evening with my favorite humans that she question?" You say falsely cheerful. " Oh well I thought you. had forgotten about Rafe?" said JJ sarcastically. You give him a flick. " The only person I’ve forgotten here is you," you say, JJ looks shocked and makes dumb remarks about you.-

There was another time when you unexpectedly arrived at the Castle late at night. Waking everyone up. The money wouldn’t have been shocked if you had arrived alone, but instead, there was your 10-year-old brother Tiago and your 12-year-old sister Tara. You apologized for coming out of the blue by lying to your friends about your parents arguing.

They spent the whole night playing with the dough when you had nothing but black thoughts a plan was established in your head: Steal JJ’s gun, go home when you’re sure that fat pig is sleeping, Shoot him and her a bullet between the eyes and go surrender. He had to pay for what they did to your brothers and sisters.

after that night when something like that happened, you go to Rafe’s, he always accepted you, alone or with your brothers and sisters.

Rafe almost beat your father to death when he came to visit you unexpectedly and saw him try to rape you, third time in the month.

[.]

"Fuck you, Rafe." Then you say your voice breaks. "Did you think about my brothers and sisters?" Rafe searches his pocket for a few and he pulls out your phone.

He gets up and gives you the phone, of course there are no more chips and the location is disabled. Rafe wrote a message to one of the police officers. -of course, he pretends to be you- He explains what you have been living since childhood and what your brothers and sisters also live, you explain in the end what you want for your family and ends the message by saying that you run away, You’re 17 so it won’t be taken as a real disappearance.

"You didn’t have the courage to do it so I did it," he said looking at you sadly. He stoops down to your level to hug you and instead of rejecting him you squeeze him as hard as I can crush your chest against his chest

You explode in tears, hoping that from now on your family will move on without you, because you made a choice: stay with Rafe.

You try to calm down in Rafe’s arms when Ward calls Rose and Wheezie.

Rafe grabs your chin and wipes your tears. The fact that he wiped them was an indication, You must no longer cry.

Rafe returns to his place, Wheezie and Rose enter the room, You hide your face and Wheezie settles next to Sarah.

______________________________________________

You play with your hands when you hear noises coming from beside you, turn your head and see John B with Pope.

when they notice your presence, they freeze. Out of fear that you will warn someone but instead you turn your head and say nothing. What Rafe gave you made sure that even if your brain does something, your body won’t follow him.

They look at each other confused and Pope approaches you while John B tries to hold him back, rejecting him prostrating that you are their friends.

He positions himself above you and taps your shoulder quietly, You do not react then he calls your name again and again. Without reaction.

Pope grabs your face and examines it, your eyes are bloodshot, he struggles to stay open, your complexion is pale and your mouth is slightly open.

It doesn’t take long for Pope to understand that you’re not sober, he’s starting to grab your legs but you’re giving him a negative sign. The two pogues do not understand and in a barely audible voice you throw them a sincere "sorry".

Then you look again at a point elsewhere making them understand that you do not intend to leave.

John B nods and Pope looks at you disappointed and lost by your behavior.

You feel the tears pouring down your cheeks when they leave, you burst into tears. Feeling too dumb to love a killer and too in love to want to leave him.

You end up falling asleep with no strength

______________________________________________

[PT2]

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