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snowsinterlude · 4 months

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overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

#coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas smut #coriolanus smut #yandere #obslove #obsessive love #x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #young coriolanus snow #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #x reader

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etfrin · 5 months

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The Reward — Coriolanus Snow ♡

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, mirror sex-ish if you squint, dub con if you squint, overstimulation if you squint, face riding, creampie, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), snow is his own warming, dom sub undertones, reader has ear piercings, degradation, hints of a toxic relationship, impact play (spanks your ass a few times), dumbfication if you squint, low-key soft! Snow in the beginning | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow! x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Coriolanus Snow gives you a reward by being gentle af and then by being a mean animal (kinda) dnsjsk🤭

⇢☾A/N: it's 3:00 am and i need to sleep, i thought about Snow taking off my heels after a gala and this was born <3

< arranged marriage m.list > < tag list > < masterlist >

Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman but he wasn't gentle. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, a fever dream but you couldn't believe what was happening right now in front of your eyes. Your pupils were in shock, your palms were sweating as you continued to take in the sight.

The sight of Snow being on his knees as he unclasps the belts of your uncomfortable heels. You swallow, “Coryo, you don't have to” but his head tilts up and his eyes are still his. Blue, cold, empty, and never ending like the ocean. A calmness washed over you, the look in his eyes proof enough that this was one of his many tricks to keep you satisfied and happy and you have to indulge him in it.

So you let him gently take off your shoes and set them aside. You await his further actions and let out a soft, small moan as his lips pressed to one of your knees. His mouth keeps pressing wet kisses up to your upper thigh, leaving behind a trail of his saliva on your skin.

This was a reward. Coriolanus was so proud of his pretty and smart wife today. You behaved accordingly in the gala tonight, letting him take the credit for your ideas. You understood your duties and that's why this is one of the few times Coryo will ever kneel for or be this gentle. It's a thank you he can't voice so he does it by his actions.

His lips find themselves kissing inside your inner thigh now, gently nipping the skin as you let out needy mewls. He could see the wet spot forming in your panties and felt the usual pride in his mind bloom. Only he could have you wet so easily and damn, if that didn't skyrocket his ego.

He kissed the wet spot, the juices now glistening onto his pink lips and he pulled back. You whimper as he does, and he wants to coo at you and tease you for being a greedy pet. But he doesn't, it's a reward after all.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before his hand grabbed the box of make-up wipes. You still hadn't said a word, letting him do his thing. He gently wiped the makeup off your face, clearing you of the chemicals he hated but you had to apply them to stay in fashion.

His fingers then gently take off the earrings you had worn, and then one by one all the rings you had except the wedding ring of course. His touch had lingered during all of those actions, making your body heat up and your panties soaked. Soft sighs escape you as he continues to adore you in such a gentle manner. As if you're made of the most precious diamond but easily breakable without care.

That's what he might have thought of you. So damn important to his sanity but any action of yours can damn him to hell. A risk, a liability to everything he has. But in his mind, you're worth it all and he has done every single scenario where things can go wrong, so many sleepless nights dedicated to these thoughts.

Snow lands on top.

Nothing you can do can mess him up, nothing. He makes sure of it with his every living breath. It's the reason he can spoil you like this, be a deserving man to his wife otherwise Coriolanus Snow is a monster (and you know that and accept him anyway).

He unzips your dress, his lips now pressing a heated kiss to your nape as his fingertips trace your bare skin. His touch was cold as ice, the heat of your body cooling down to his touch. It gave you relief momentarily but it was clear that you wanted more. The whimper that left your mind as he unclasped your bra was enough proof of that.

With your breasts set free from their confines, Corio’s hands begin to knead your soft tits. His eyes look into the mirror as he watches himself message your soft breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples making the sensitive pebbles hard. He rolls the buds, playing with them until you moan, your body flushing with lust in your veins. You begin to rub your thighs, getting desperate for any sort of friction but you force yourself to stop as he tsks near your ear.

“Don't, doll,” he whispered as one of his hands began the journey of going down on your body, the heat of his palm onto your tummy and then so close to your clothed pussy. “Spread,” he commands and you follow without embarrassment or hesitation.

Your soaked panties come into your view through the mirror and you want to look away from the shyness you still had but didn't. Instead, a whine escapes your lips that makes Coriolanus chuckle. “Such a needy pet. I will take care of you, darling. No need to worry.”

You moan as he refers to you as darling for the first time. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing as your mind gets dizzy. There was something about how he had said it. Soft and warm, his voice dipping a bit lower as he pronounced the letters and it was tinged with a feeling he wouldn't associate himself with.

Love.

You whimper, “Please” and he hushes you as his fingers snap the band of your panties before he dips a single finger onto your wet folds. He smirks, his face looking into the mirror to gaze into your glazed eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered and you didn't bother to take offense, his words turning you on as much as his finger circling on your clit was.

A broken moan escapes as his fingers decide to pinch the sensitive nub, and he coats his fingers with your juices. A string of sticky white cream on his digits as he takes his hand out of your panties and places his covered fingers inside the wet carven of his mouth. He expertly sucks clean of his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obscene sound.

He smirks to himself as he relishes the taste of you. His. Just his you were. He leaves you there, alone on the chair as he walks to the bed. He wasn't wearing anything except for his pants. His suit and shirt were taken off earlier.

You waited for his further command as he got himself comfortable on the bed. “Come here,” he said and you listen. You take off your wet panties and let them stay ruined on the floor as you practically crawl to Coryo. You straddle him and wait some more.

He doesn't say anything, his face blank but his sky-blue eyes heated. His hands were on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, making sure to grip you tight enough to mark you.

His tongue comes out to wet his rather dried lips. Your breath hitches as you see it and the sight of you being so affected by such a simple action made him feel like a. . . Lord.

He doesn't say anything, but did he need to? You knew him all too well, so you don't question yourself as you begin to move. The new position had you gripping the headboard while his hands shamelessly groped your ass, even occasionally giving small sharp slaps onto the flesh, making it red. It was simply another way of marking you.

Meanwhile, your eyes were closed, your mind forgetting about the existence of reality as his hot breath hit your glistening folds and made you quiver. “Go ahead,” he permits you.

Not even a second later, you begin to ride his face. He groans as his lips meet with your cunt. His tongue begins with broad, messy strokes of your pussy, gathering as much as your juices possible. All the while your eyes roll back and you moan. A sharp slap on the flesh of your ass has you grinding yourself onto his face. His nose nudged your sensitive, swollen clit perfectly as his tongue continued to swirl and flick around your cunt with calculated broad strokes that made you whine his name.

Soon his mouth finds your clit and begins to relentlessly suck your bundle of nerves. You cry out, pleading that this is too much and you can't- can't take it! But your begging was unheard and your pleas turned into louder moans, whimpers for pleas, and more. His sucking gets harsher and the overstimulation makes your mind reel. The warmth that was gathering in your lower body begins to spread all over, turning your bones to jelly and your mind to nothing as you cum onto his face. The rolls of your hips slowly as he continues to lap at all the cream released and your pussy keeps on spasming.

Your mind wanted more so you decided to take more. You had understood this was a reward for being good. So you can be a bit bad for now. So despite his grunt of displeasure as you get off his face, you quickly find yourself getting rid of his remaining clothes.

His cock was hard, the red tip angry and gleaming with pre-cum that coated most of his length. The sight had you salivating. Coryo knew you were nothing more than a cockdrunk slut and he called you that, you feel yourself glow from his words, not finding the word even a little bit degrading.

“I love you,” you mumbled as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a wanton moan echoing through the room. He groans, “Fuck yourself good, pet. You're in charge of your pleasure tonight. Go ahead, dove.”

“Yes, Coryo,” you whine as you feel yourself full of his cock. You felt yourself squeezing his thick length, a gasp escaping you as you tried to get used to his cock without being prepped. A groan could be heard as he felt his dick getting squeezed by your wet, tight cunt.

He wants to fuck into you and he almost does. But Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman and a gentleman kept his word. Especially when he can see his wife looking so fucking pretty being fucked out from his cock merely twitching inside her walls.

“Begin,” he demands, his voice haughty and filled with lust but you weren't ready. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, you let yourself savor the action of his cock grinding against every hidden pleasure spot inside of your cunt. You moan as your pussy takes his cock deeper until his tip is pressed right against your g-spot making you see stars. You begin to grind back and forth so he keeps hitting that spot, you begin to sweat, your thighs clenching, and you couldn't keep focus as pleasure feels your every vein and his cock making you dumb. Simple actions seemed impossible to you and you wanted to beg him to take over, to make you cum again and again until you were broken.

He was unaware of your turmoil, his eyes onto the sight where his cock meets with your cunt, the combined fluid of his pre-cum and your slick dripping down onto his skin. The sight was filthy and he loved it. He clenched his jaw, trying so hard to be a patient gentleman to his wife.

He treated this like a test against himself because he knew what you did to his self-control. You aren't going to win this, he's not going to let go. He will not fuck into you like an animal, he refused to.

But was it losing when you were out of it like this? As if you were truly nothing but a dumb slut who just needs to cum. He decided that this wasn't a loss, but a win. He was doing you a favor when his hips began to snap upwards, his cock thrusting inside of you faster than the pace you had set. It was a pity that he felt so that's why he went back to his words. He was in control of your pleasure and he always will be. Self-control had nothing to do with it, he told himself.

You scream out in pleasure as several spanks are delivered onto your ass, turning the flesh red. It was clear that you liked the sting because of how tightly your pussy suffocated his dick after each slap. ‘Fucking whore of a wife’, he thought. He doesn't voice his thoughts but merely grins at the sight of tears filling your eyes. His dick twitched, an indication of being close.

However, he had to make you cum on his cock first. His hips begin to rut in faster into you, his hands holding you down as he thrusts in faster and harder. His dick kissing all of your hidden spots you didn't even know existed, his cock was perfect.

All you could do was take and take the reward he was giving you. Tears of satisfaction fell down your cheeks and it nourished his pride. You begin to ramble as you get closer to the edge. You ramble about how perfect he is, how much you love him, and fuck you can't think- you can't think. He is perfect, perfect, perfect.

Each of your praises makes him fuck you harder, deeper, a thrust so deep that his cockhead kissed your cervix making you gasp from a hint of pain and a hundredfold of pleasure. You begin to cum, and he shallowly thrusts into your cunt as you ride out your high. Your pussy spasms continuously around his cock as you cry out from being overwhelmed.

“That's a good girl,” he coos at you, “that's my girl.” You whine, your mind unable to process his words. You couldn't even sit up anymore, your body falling onto his. He wraps his arms around you, caging you to him. “My perfect wife,” he whispered as he continues to fuck into you despite your protests of being too much.

He doesn't listen to your pleas, his reward for you ultimately was his cum. Now he can't stop until he finds release himself, otherwise, how would you get your gift, right?

So he continues and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to fuck his thick, hot load into your womb. You whimper as his cock slips out and sighs in relief. You were in his arms and will be so for the rest of the night.

Coriolanus Snow wondered briefly if you liked your reward if not, well you have full access to his credit cards.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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Run Away To Me (III)

AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, blood, angst, protective Johnny, violence, hurt/comfort, speedy relationship, talks of sex/intimacy (nothing in depth) & virginity pertaining to marriage, religious symbolism & mentions, etc.

A/N: That's it for this AU - onto Werewolf!Ghost next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You’re kept behind Johnny’s back as you both exit the treeline, and you feel yourself quivering with unease.

What would Lord Wilkin do to you? Drag you back? As the shelter of the trees leaves you, you tighten your grip on the blacksmith’s tunic, breathing out a shaky puff of air. Cobalt eyes look back at you, trying to reassure you as the first calls start up from the guards.

Johnny whispers out, his accent deep. “It’s gonna be just fine.”

“She’s here!”

Hounds dash forward but with a sharp bark of, “Get back!” They skid along the dewy grass and halt with rabid barks instead, fur bristled and spittle flying. The men surge forward, and you gasp as they grapple at Johnny’s arms.

One tries to snatch at the neck of your cloak, but a strong arm traps the armored wrist and twists it sideways, snapping the bone as you stare wide-eyed as the guard screams; jerking back and stumbling to his knees. With a fluid motion, Johnny grasps the handle of the downed guard’s sword as he writhes with agony, unsheathing the blade and laying it upon the breast of the other with a dim call.

He glowers and glares, eyes like burning coals.

“I suggest you step back,” you watch, holding your breath from over his shoulder as the blacksmith leans closer to the man, one arm kept behind him and resting on your hip. “‘Fore this gets bloody.” The guard raises his hands and backs up quickly, fear splashing his eyes.

All of the others watch nervously from the sidelines, either reigning in steeds or holding their hands to the pommels of their weapons. Waiting.

You swallow the saliva in your throat and ask, quietly, “Are you alright?”

“Don’t twist your head about me,” Johnny reassures, eyes traveling around the homestead as the guards shuffle and share glances. The Scot grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this.

If you had run, just as the man had anticipated, they would have caught up in no time.

The clop of hooves from your left draws both of yours’ attention in a quick succession of perked heads and pounding hearts. You feel your blood drop to pool in your feet at the face that meets you. Johnny growls and shoves you farther into his shadow as Lord Wilkin comes closer with a horse of bay coat, decorated with all the finery of his station. Gold, great coat with an embroidered tunic, and riding boots. Strapped at his waist was a dagger encrusted with gems made of blood and diamonds.

Never mind all that wealth, he looked ugly and cruel to you—a glint of arrogance in his eye. You glare and grit your teeth, rage coming off in waves from Johnny as well as yourself.

Wilkin’s old face is the same you remember smirking down at you as he drove the ceremonial blade into your palm, and your entire hand flinches in memory, digging your nails into the Scot’s waist.

He puffs a sound of reassurance but otherwise doesn’t move an inch from in front of you.

“And who might this be holding my bride hostage?” The Lord’s voice is sly. Black eyes dart up and down Johnny’s form and the man you latch to has to restrain a rabid grunt of anger. Stay his molten tongue. “A blacksmith?”

“It’s MacTavish, to you,” Johnny calls, tone dead and laced with danger. Your body restrains a shiver as his warm skin sinks into you; the memory of his lips on yours is addictive, even now. “Be best for you to remember it, eh? Considerin’ I’m the one who supplies your fucking guards with arms.”

Lord Wilkin utterly ignores him, his gaze sliding to you halfway through his sentence. You stay silent, lungs tight inside of your ribs. The unfortunate truth was that Johnny still had more standing here than you did, anything that you said would come up as null and void; in fact, it would be better to be completely mute.

But with how the Lord was looking at you, your teeth had to bite into your lip to silence yourself. You had to come up with a way out of this. Soon.

“Take my bride away from this brute. Chain him.” Wilkin hides a smirk, pulling at his steed’s reigns to shift the beast away with a snort and a flick of a dark tail. “I want his head on the block in the town square by tomorrow. I have a wedding to finalize.”

“Let the fires of hell go cold if I go anywhere with you,” you say, stepping out slightly from behind Johnny, much to his hesitation, but still, he watches over you and lets you do as you please. The blacksmith would rather not have this Lord’s eyes anywhere near you if he’s being honest with himself.

This Scot had made you bold—his words gave finality. If he said nothing would happen to you, you believed him. Perhaps that made you foolish, but his word meant far more than anyone else. Johnny kept his promises.

Lord Wilkin’s horse is jerked to a stop, its head snapping back and forth with a frothing mouth. His eyes travel back and a slow sneer pulls at his lips, sitting under a mustache of white hair. You restrain a cringe, and Johnny barks an order to the advancing guards to stay back as his large feet set themselves.

“If they grab me,” he mutters, speaking over his shoulder, “run, Little Lady. I’ll be sure to give you an opening.”

Your eyes widen in shock and horror, but before you can answer, your husband-to-be calls to you. The Blacksmith’s expression is the picture of defense as he angles the sword in his grip at the far-off Lord when even the barest hint of his tone indicates you.

A low grunt was ringing in his throat like that of an animal—as if the bear fur inside of the house had come to life and was a shield of muscle and iron shavings.

Your eyes blink, and something begins forming in your head, but it’s gone before you can really grasp it.

“My Lady,” Lord Wilkin states, his guards taking up places beside him, glaring. The hounds have still not gone silent, and Johnny eyes them nervously. “I believe you’ve been overcome by some…” He grumbles and gnashes his teeth in rage. “Spell of disobedience. I’ll have a physician examine you and keep you in my home for a stay of recovery—”

“The lady said she’s not goin’ with you,” Johnny seethes, pupils slits. Your hand rests on his back, spread over the swell of his broadness as you feel his pulse. Hot and racing. “So pack the fuck up and scatter! And take the bloody mutts with you!”

You spare a worried glance at the back of his head. The blacksmith can’t possibly believe that threatening them will make Wilkin pull back, and when he meets your eyes, you know he doesn’t just by the wrinkles by the sides of his lids.

He’s nervous, shifting his feet in small increments to try and push you nearer to the tree line. Your body hardens.

You’ve already made your mad dash—there was no more running. Certainly not if your new center of affection and protective build wasn’t coming with you.

Wilkin raises a brow. “Quite demanding for the man surrounded…Woman!” You flinch at the sudden shout, the quick rage of his snapping head, and the quick switch. Johnny glares and his hands are strangling the hilt of the sword, white and held still. The Lord barks, “Your parents gained valuable gifts for your well-bred hand—would you enjoy them being taken away? I can do so.” Dark eyes sweep over you. A smirk. “Forget this spark of madness and consummate what you know to be done.”

Johnny lunges with a snarl, eyes burning with horrible anger and the intent to cut the head off the snake. The guards meet him as he yells to you, “Run, Dearie!”

But your feet are stone.

When the man realizes you’re going nowhere without him, his eyes gain a sheen of panic as his blade clashes with sparks of steel with another. A dance of feet and wit that speaks to years of careful study; practice from both parties. Wilkin looks smug as Johnny lets off a loud curse and has to turn his attention back to the fight.

“Seems the woman’s come to her senses. Praise God, perhaps there’s hope for her yet.” You breathe heavily, hands clenched under your cloak. Your mind wished for a dagger—one to show this pathetic excuse of a man how much it hurt to try and have someone mark you for the pleasure of ownership. Like some common branded cow.

Wilkin nods to you as Johnny gazes on in horror, narrowly dodging a swipe at his side before he elbows a guard in the face, splaying him out along the ground in a heap of leather and fabric.

“What are you doing?” He yells, voice booming out over the forest. You don’t look at him before you suck down a breath and steady your nerves; standing taller and setting back your shoulders.

The trained grace that had been shoved down your throat on a silver platter came back easily. Forks and spoons sliding under your teeth, all engraved with images depicting holy scenes of sanctity while the blood of your flesh spills at the poke of thorns sitting on your head. A halo of bloody martyrdom.

A tool.

You can be a tool, you decide, flinching when Johnny’s body is tackled to the ground; form ricochetting as he growls and writhes. His sword clatters to the ground. They have him in binds, cheek shoved into the dirt, and great shackles that skirt the line between animal and human restraint. A guard’s hand forces his face deeper into the earth and Johnny bellows, ordering with wild eyes, “Run, dammit! Get out of here!”

Sending a stiff glance, you stare blankly into cobalt eyes and blink away just as quickly, standing and staring down Lord Wilkin as he watches in contentment at the scene of the raging blacksmith and his seemingly placated bride. At the twitch of his lips, you raise your voice high.

“Release him.” Dark eyes turn to slits before they slowly slither back to you.

“Pardon?” You grit your teeth and feel Johnny glaring, a snarl ripping out of his mouth as he coughs through the grass.

“Dearie, no!” A punch hits his stomach as he’s jerked up to his feet and attacked; chains rattling as hounds bay for blood. You sense your gut roll with bile as Johnny fights back—tree-like legs laying a kick square into one's abdomen.

The two guards hang onto his arms, shouting at each other to try and restrain him further.

“I ask my husband-to-be to release the man that graciously gave me shelter during the storm,” staring hard, you’re trying to stop yourself from running to Johnny. You know you have nothing to help him with—it would be pointless and utterly stupid.

Your brow raises, but a nervous twinge is still in your voice. “Does My Lord not take pride in the fact that the men of his fiefdom are so open to taking in those less fortunate than themselves?”

Wilkin’s cheeks go tight, skin pulling as the eyes of the free guards travel to him. The struggle gradually dies down across the way; cobalt eyes darting back and forth with panic.

“Don’t bloody do what I think you’re doin’!”

A trade would happen, but only for a moment. In your head, you were whipping past possibilities and scenarios. There was something on the cusp of discovery—so close to giving you the upper hand, but what was it? Like a thorn in your foot, you continue to walk over it; ready and willing.

Johnny had your back last night, it was time you had his.

“Let the honorable blacksmith go,” you level. “And name your price.”

The response is immediate. A flashing smirk. “Deal. I’ll take my bride back, just as was intended.”

“No!” Johnny’s tunic is all ripped up, tears from gripping hands only making the damage larger—nail scrapes along his hardened flesh from the guard’s ruthless hold. Skin white from the force.

If you look at him, you’ll lose your mind.

Under your cloak, your hands shake as Wilkin descends his horse, coming closer.

“Keep your fuckin’ bastard hands off of ‘er!”

Think. His footsteps march closer—thin and sly-looking like a sharp-eyed Egret. Think!

Before his hand can snap at your wrist your mind sparks in a panicked moment, and you’re exclaiming with a loud voice before you can stop yourself or think the sentence through. You stutter at first but quickly gain your footing.

“I-In good faith, I cannot accept—I am unfaithful to you, Lord!”

The entire homestead goes still, and those struggling with Johnny’s binds freeze. Lord Wilkin goes confused, his wrinkled visage peeling in like a rotted corpse. But no faces are quite as good as the blacksmith’s, who goes so pale and wide-eyed before he can school himself in secrecy; his jaw loose. His heart pounds in his breast, shreds of tunic waving in the wind. You continue with utter conviction, so much so that you even start to believe the lie you’ve crafted with a swift mind. “See the evidence upon the blacksmith’s sheets—where we lay last night in the throes of lust; I am no longer a pure bride.” Breaths get caught in throats; eyes bugging to a nonsensical degree. You swear someone choke. Your face burns as you continue, faking a shameful falling of your chin.

“I cannot marry you!” It’s almost enough to break you, the realization on Johnny’s expression as he darts his vision to your hand—which you hide inside your cloak; wrapped around your waist with false fear. Blood on your hand.

Blood on the sheets.

“It would be shameful to do so, do you not understand? I am not but a used good.” Fake or not, the last comment still makes Johnny’s hands clench his jaw working itself with a restrained growl.

But pride furrows his brow. A smirk was forced back from his lips.

You just took away what Wilkin loves more than anything else—control.

The older man halts, his mouth going agape and a vile sheen coming to his cheeks. He stutters, “I...what?” It’s a violent snarl, but the man balks back from you as if you’re infected. “You dare lie to me, Girl? Play off this fallacy?”

“It’s no lie,” you say, gaining confidence with how Johnny watches you closely, only once rumbling at the guards that hold him when they tighten their grip. “The evidence is plain as day in the Blacksmith’s bed.”

Wilkin’s eyes flash, and he barks an order to one of his men to enter the main house. Only when his dark eyes are off of you do you spare a look at Johnny.

You sag softly, shoulders losing some tension.

Blue eyes lock with yours, firm. Sending an apologetic squint of your eyes, the man only slightly shakes his head, mouthing out, “Don’t worry your little head about it.” A quick, barely-there smile flashes his lips—but then you have to look away before you let the shaking of your body be known. No matter how hard you plead with your muscles to stop vibrating, they do so instinctually.

You know what lying about this will cost you, successfully or not. You’d be labeled for the rest of your life; separate. But Johnny’s eyes on you ease the pain. Lets you breathe. If the worst thing that could happen to you was living out your life in his homestead and being at his side, then perhaps social execution was the only thing that pleased you at the moment.

You just hoped that it didn’t lead to an actual execution.

“Lord!” The guard returns as Johnny continues to watch you, panting, with sweat dripping down his chin. His ribs hurt something awful, but he only glowered at the men holding him and stayed his violent tongue to let you work your strengths like fine iron wrought in the fire of his hearth.

Wilkin’s lackey was hurriedly carting the length of the Blacksmith’s sheets behind him—clutching in his fist the vibrant red stain of your blood and displaying it to the light. Thinking about what they saw it as, instead of your wound opening, you cringe and restrain a sound of disgust.

Even being around Johnny for as little time as you had, despite the kiss and infatuation, you had forgotten how crude the rest of these men could be. It’s like this sanctuary of trees and dew-soaked ground was in an entirely different world, and these intruders were wrecking it. By Johnny’s face, he felt the exact same.

Half of the Scot wanted to save your honor and tell them you were lying, but the desperation of the situation was far more serious than that. He couldn’t let you go back to Wilkin—he’d promised. So Johnny took down a tight breath and stayed silent; face burning and glaring at the ground with clenched fists shaking for blood.

The guards holding his arms slightly release their grip, listening intently themselves.

Blanking, the Lord’s eyes lock onto the stain as the man brings him the fabric. Not a moment later his hand snaps out to drag it to his face, looking daggers into the redness as his eyes snap from place to place.

“...You did this on purpose,” the slow dead tone takes you aback, hands around your abdomen digging further into your flesh as a dread spills into your stomach with blossoming unease.

“M-my Lord?” Johnny tenses, eyes sharp like a wolf.

“You did this so you could spite me, you little,” the encrusted dagger is unsheathed from its scabbard. “Whore!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The blacksmith bursts with wrath, jerking forward so violently that he drags the guards holding him along the ground, their calls of alarms making the hounds go ballistic.

You take a small step back as Wilkin gets nearer to you—the point of the blade setting itself right under your chin; tilting your head up. Breath going tight, you stare with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

He wouldn’t kill you…would he?

The Lord’s eyes are brimstone and deeper than Hell, holding sinners in the bars of his pupils while devils of brown specks prod the pool of obsidian. If a man could be on fire and still be living, Wilkin was an inferno incarnate.

“You belong to me,” he grits his teeth as Johnny’s voice blurs in the background, having to be forced to his knees by three men yet still nearly throttling one with the force of his arms. “I paid for you.”

“Then you should find it a lost investment,” you shakily reply, not knowing how you have the strength to stare into Wilkin’s eyes. But you do. You stare and you hold your hands tight into your flesh until the skin under your gifted fabric aches. A small prick of the blade makes you suck in a tight inhalation, a tiny droplet of crimson sneaking down your throat.

It’s a battle of wills, and before you say what you’re thinking, you’re nearly sure that in less than three seconds you’ll be grasping a slit throat.

You clear your throat softly and speak in a dim whisper. “How will your guards react to you killing a woman in anger?” Expressions freeze. “What does God say about that?” You swallow, throat bobbing. Hit him where it hurts. “...What would the townspeople say? Mercy is not above our great Lord, that is an earthly prospect. I believed that was your greatest quality, is that not what everyone believes?”

Wilkin stares, his mustache twitching. Dead face. Dead eyes.

It’s a long, long moment before anything else happens, and when it does, you flinch.

The dagger disappears from your chin and you instantly back up several steps, breathing unevenly. Pointedly, you place your uninjured hand on your slowly dripping skin.

Johnny’s taken down three of the guards, their faces bloody and your blacksmith’s nose broken. He yells and screams curses. You feel your heart constrict at the sight, pain zooming down your veins in bursts of adrenaline, but it’s seconds later that Wilkin speaks, loudly so that everyone can hear.

“I would never harm a woman,” you hold back a violent scoff as your hands shake, wanting to be taken into Johnny’s arms now more than ever—feel his heat and inhale his scent. Wrapped in a blanket of steel and ash. “In my good graces, I will pray for your salvation, Miss. But being soiled—”

“Bloody piss off!” You send Johnny a quick glance at the outburst. He’s forced back face-first into the ground with a grunt and sputtering of grass in his mouth.

“I no longer wish to be joined with you in holy matrimony. It would be dishonorable to my station.” Dark eyes swim with hatred, but the tone of his voice is easy and pliable. The Lord was a good fake—he plasters on an appeasing smile for his men and waves a quick hand in the air as he turns to his horse. “Release the brute. Let the pair roll in their sin of carnal desire. God will be their judge.”

Johnny struggles as they unlock his chains, but the second he’s out he’s springing full-force towards you; his skin sliding across your cloak as you’re guarded far better than any loyal hound or King might be.

“Johnny,” you grapple at his biceps, sighing raggedly in relief. He doesn’t brush you off, only curling his side around you and angling his head to the mounted horses; pupils slits and lungs heaving. His nose looks awful. “Don’t, don’t,” you plead, “It’s over.”

The man doesn't respond, looking feral as his hair goes this way and that; coiled around your body about to strike at anything that comes close.

“I’ll kill him,” Johnny grunts. “I’ll rip his damn throat out for speakin’ to you like that—for puttin’ a knife to your throat. I’ll rip him into bloody bits and pieces, you just say the word, Little Lady.”

Your arms encase the one of his you’re holding, dragging the limb to your chest. Cobalt eyes dart back to your face. It’s a long moment, but his expression softens slightly—the wrinkles beside his eyes easing while his lips twitch down. Blood drips off his lower face, spread around his under eyes, and stains his stubble with crimson gore.

“Please,” you mutter.

He looks down and nods stiffly, even if he doesn’t like it.

The horses are rallied, the hounds called, and with a throw of dirt from their hooves the convoy is off. Silence returns in slow increments of nothingness.

Wind, the call of a bird, and the babble of a far-off stream echo through the pines. Only when they’re entirely out of sight and the dust has cleared that Johnny swiftly moves, picking you up into his arm. You squeak as he carries you speedily into the main house, rushing to place your backside on the table.

His large hands immediately tilt your head up to spy the tiny mark from Wilkin’s blade, and you feel his shuttered breath against your throat as you go heated.

“J-Johnny, what are you…” But you don’t get an answer, the man disappearing before coming back with a wetted rag. Once more, the man cleans your wounds with delicate presses of the cloth—ridding you of all blood.

His jaw is clenched, and as you watch, your hand in your lap twitches.

In a broken act of pain, you lightly run your fingertips over the swelling of his nose. The man stops, but serious eyes stick to your throat—unable to meet your gaze; there’s a red sheen to his neck and ears. Anger or embarrassment, you know not.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, guilty, and his widened gaze rips itself to lock with yours. Your vision blurs, afraid to touch him fully as if it might burn him.

“No,” he’s shaking his head. “No, you never tell me that. What you did, Dearie…I,” Johnny stutters, closing his mouth before opening it again. “I should be apologizing to you. It wasn’t fair to make you do that. Any of it.”

A wobbly smile flicks your lips.

“Are you saying I should have left you?” Johnny moves his face farther into your hand, blood contaminating your skin but you don’t pull away. You let him sag into your palm instead, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against your soft hands.

“I’d not see you harmed,” is all he answers.

You sigh and blink away your tears, stealing the man’s rag so you can dab at the bloody nostrils. Johnny’s pulse is still fast under you—like the pound of his hammer.

“Well,” his eyes dig into yours and you smile. “I believe my priorities are the same. I may have only met you yesterday, but I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

“Aye, well, everyone will know how fond soon enough.” He’s more worried about this than you are, a stubborn and almost grumbly tone to his words.

“Is my purity that much of a sore point for you?” You can’t help but tease him, even in the circumstances. “I had no idea.”

His face goes more crimson than his own blood, and he blinks at you rapidly.

“I…That isn’t what I…” You chuckle gently and press your forehead to his, whispering.

“I was just joking.” He sags with relief, his hands coming up to rest on your hips with the care of a man unbefitting to his station. Again, you have to ask yourself how an individual so intimidating can be, at the same instance, kind and generous.

His lips mutter, brows tight. “Are ya sure you’re alright, Hen?”

You think, wondering about the run through the forest when this all began, the plea for shelter. Such a deep coincidence that you’d end up here—perhaps the most safe place in the entire fiefdom. Everything had lined up perfectly, barring a few bumps in the road. You doubted Wilkin will mess with this place after the spreading of your ‘promiscuous’ behavior.

He was too sly for outright violence if given the option.

“Yes,” you know, and thin your lips. “What about your nose? A-and everything else?”

“Don’t think about it,” the Scot smiles, eyes still glinting with worry. So many hours and you’d barely gotten any sort of break. “I just want you to rest, then, eh?”

Maybe it was outwardly obvious, but the entire ordeal had left you drained; shaky, and still coming off of panic. What if they had killed Johnny…?

You’d go back to Wilkin and live as his wife, producing heirs and locked away in his estate for the remainder of your life. What kind of existence was that? No, you knew, you’d never live like that.

You’d never live like that here.

With a shaky breath, you watch Johnny’s eyes flash with concern for a moment by your silence, but before he can speak you’re pressing your lips to his in a firm and honest kiss—sinking in every emotion you could.

The man grunts in surprise, but doesn’t move back; if anything, his grip on your hips increases, sliding up to your waist.

After a moment of tasting flesh, you pull back and whisper, “Thank you.”

Johnny breathes heavily, a glimmer in his blues, “Well,” he grumbles, “I’d say you did most of the work.”

You both share a chuckle before you’re lifted again, carried gently over to the bed without sheets. You’re placed atop the bear fur and wrapped in that instead after your cloak is unclipped and folded neatly, set on the floor. Outside, the call of a far-off storm hits your ears and you blink to the window.

“Stay with me?” You ask before you can stop yourself or can even think.

The blacksmith’s breath catches, his fingers flinching as they were pulling the fur tighter around your neck.

It’s a moment before he asks in a quiet tone.

“You sure you want this, Dearie?” His lips go tight, eyes narrowing in inner conflict. You stare and already know the answer just by how he speaks to you. “I’m no King. I…I can’t give you fine jewelry or fancy clothes. There’ll be no grand suppers beyond the game I catch or what I can afford to buy. Long winters.”

The air goes quiet with worship, and your eyes go wide with care. His broken nose is crooked, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. You wonder if that was for your sake or his.

“I’m not someone worthy of your beauty,” he rubs at the back of his head, bending down by the edge of the bed. “Certainly not your smarts. I’m only a blacksmith, Little Lady.”

“Only?” You huff a chuckle. Johnny looks at you in confusion as the black clouds outside roll in, seen through the window of this quaint and lovely home. The hearth is warm, the scent of food still in the air, and the memory of a dash through the forest behind you.

“If you’re only a blacksmith, Mr. MacTavish,” you’re sent a fake stern look as the back of a hand goes to brush your cheek. You shiver. “Then I’m only a runaway bride.”

“Aye,” Johnny admits with a growing smile of adoration, “but still a bonnie one, at that.”

“...Stay with me?” You ask again.

The man breathes out, “Tell me why.”

“The trees do not deny what they need to make them whole, Blacksmith,” you whisper. “Why should I?”

He’s clambering under the fur, wrecked clothes, and blood on his face but never feeling more whole. Is so little a time enough to fall in love with someone? What deity had tied your souls together so soon with ribbon soaked in rainwater—tinged with blood?

His lips meet yours as you sigh into him, hands gripping his arms as they circle your waist tightly. Johnny breathes you in and lets his hands span your back, fingertips digging into your clothes. Into his mouth, you whine a plea for him to keep you close and hold you tight. It’s all your need from him. It’s all you want.

For the wise know best: there is nothing better than a simple life.

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satoruwiki · 3 months

Note

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk naoya #headcanon #jjk hcs #naoya x you #zenin naoya #naoya x reader #naoya zenin #naoya smut #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk zenin

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yawnderu · 6 months

Note

My life is falling apart - could you write how Ghost might save reader from her emotionally abusive and toxic husband? I thank you, maybe one day I'll have someone like Simon.

Whoever you are, I'm here for you if you need to talk. Stay strong sweetheart, this too shall pass. 💖

CW: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, protective Simon Riley.

Simon had sneaked his way into your life with the same stealth he uses on missions— a man who barely spent any time at his apartment and was always away for what he said was just ''work''. The same man who after a few conversations, started bringing you small gifts from his missions, always something different that he thought you'd like.

Simon isn't dumb— far from it, he's always aware of his surroundings and throughout the years, he knows how to read people well. That's why it breaks him to see the way your smiles now came accompanied with a nervous look in your eyes whenever your husband was home, despite you and Simon simply being friendly towards one another.

Whenever he was back at his apartment, he started listening more and more. Paying even more attention to you, ear pressed against the wall while he listened to your husband berate you for a plethora of reasons, all of them more absurd than the other, the truth heavy on his shoulders, weighting him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to go inside your house and ravage your husband the same way he does so casually in the battlefield— but he can't. Simon Riley is not Ghost. Simon has to lay low, to ensure both his safety and yours, so he starts planning. Planning how to approach the issue, how to get you out of the situation and understand you better. He'd never admit it, but he spent the entire night reading the experiences of other married women when it comes to abusive marriages, restless dreams full of ideas on how in the bloody hell he'll get you out of this.

He waits until the next day once your husband leaves for work, waiting out five minutes that feel eternal just to make sure he doesn't come back. Unmasked and with very faint stains of eye black that he never seems to be able to fully remove, he knocks on your door. You answer with teary eyes, sniffling softly as you try your best to give him a small smile, yet he can see the pain. The same pain he saw in his mother's eyes his entire life.

''Simon!'' You greet, moving aside so he can enter your house, closing the door behind you as you both go to the living room.

''Would you like a cuppa?'' You offer and it takes him a few seconds to decide, ultimately nodding his head. Maybe this will be easier if you're both having a nice, warm drink. You come back minutes later with a tray and some crumpets, something you started buying when he casually mentioned liking them.

''Thank you.'' He takes a sip of the perfectly made chamomile tea, done the way he loves it— with two teaspoons of honey and hot. You give him a happier smile, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a secure blanket, a far cry from your marriage.

''Love...'' He begins and your full attention goes to him, noticing his serious tone and pensive expression.

''There's no easy way to say this, but with this place having thin walls, I sometimes hear things I shouldn't.'' You immediately know what he's talking about, but before you can apologize on behalf of your husband, he keeps speaking.

''You deserve so much better.'' He puts his cup down, eyes looking down to his hands— the hands he keeps ungloved just for you, the hands that are protected by his skull gloves whenever he's out in missions, so he can come back to you free of sin. He sits down next to you, one of his arms wrapping around your back reassuringly.

''Why are you still with him?'' There's a hint of desperation in his tone, thin eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You want to look away, but his brown eyes are almost hypnotic. So expressive, so telling whenever words aren't enough.

''I... I don't know.'' You reply with honesty, tone strained as you hold back tears and try to dig into your brain for any reasons you're with the man, yet nothing comes up. ''I don't have anywhere else to go to.''

Your words hurt him as much as they hurt you, looking at the potential you have that is being wasted on some ungrateful wanker who berates you for the smallest things.

''Run away with me.'' He suggests in a spur of the moment and before he can even process his own words, a small giggle escapes your lips. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, curious as to what's so funny. Your giggling stops when you notice the expression on his face.

''You're serious?'' You ask carefully, not wanting to make a fool of yourself despite knowing he'd never joke about something like that.

''I'm serious, love. We could go somewhere far away from here, safe. You can leave all of this behind, just say the word.''

''I...'' He can see your hesitancy, his warm hand rubbing circles on your back while the other one holds your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your hand reassuringly.

''What if he finds me?'' It's the first question that comes to mind, not wanting to deal with more of his abuse if you ever manage to get away.

''He won't, doll. I can promise you that. I'll get some of my mates to watch out for you when I'm busy at work, if it helps you.'' He knows it will, and he already has highly trusted friends from the 141 in mind to watch out for you whenever he goes on solo missions.

It took almost two hours of convincing before you agreed, and that's where you are now. He's helping you inform the police about your situation and why you're going away, just in case your husband tries to report you missing.

Most of your belongings were left at the house, but... it surprisingly doesn't bother you. It'll be a new beginning, the same furniture that has witnessed years of abuse is now left behind, only a few clothes inside his car while you both leave the police station. You take a deep breath, the warmth of the sun washing over your skin as you close your eyes, a sincere smile on your face for the first time in years.

''Thank you, Simon.'' My angel, my savior.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fluff #hurt/comfort #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley fluff #ghost call of duty #simon riley #ghost cod #call of duty #mw2 fluff #stray answers

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daydreamcloudshiding · 3 months

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#4 Astrology Observations

I usually don't get along with people who have Ascendant opposite my Mars. Something about them really irritates me and I don't even know why

Mars square Mars synastry is one of the most toxic synastry I know. It's like both are very strong-headed and no one will ever back down. If there is other strong placement in this synastry, it's like one of those couples that only stays together just to punish the other. It's like - no one can ever "own" you but me, no one can ever "destroy" you but me, I have the power to do that - So toxic

Saturn square Pluto synastry can be toxic because it has so much transformations and challenges. Saturn represent order and structure, Pluto represent transformation. This happen to both of them, and it's not like only the Pluto person who will bring about change. To give you an example, perhaps the Saturn is so used to chaos and Pluto will come into their life to help them build the structure and order that they need in their life. However Pluto have this forceful vibe to them, and Saturn, literally the one represent structure will find this resistance in their heart. Like "What are you doing, that's supposed to be my job, shut up, shut up, shut up why are you trying to control my life" and Let's say that for all their life, Pluto has this tunnel-like mindset that's probably toxic to them. Or even a belief. Saturn will come into their life to show them that there are other alternatives, that even though different from what Pluto has, is really working and definitely not toxic. Pluto will not take this change easily. Like "The fu*k you trynna change me, who do you think you are? How about I change you instead?" with this placement, both really need to drop the ego, it's crucial because I personally don't really see this as toxic, because it doesn't have to be. The thing is, this is also a binding aspect. I found this in couples who have been together for 10+ years or even married. This is because the transformation happen only after both really get to know each other quite well

People with Mercury square Chiron in natal chart can say some hurtful sh*t that will shook you mentally and emotionally and you will never be able to recover from this pain because usually there is an element of truth in it. They might insult you about your behaviour and somehow they connect it to a specific childhood trauma that you tried so hard to hide but this person can see it and you can't believe that this person really said it out loud. So now everyone knows

Mars in 1st in composite feels like there is a sense of defensiveness to it, but it doesn't always means towards each other but rather towards other people. It's like one or both are very defensive about this relationship that if someone disagrees with this, they will defend it hard

Chiron conjunct North node in composite means that there is some element in the relationship or in both people that is so triggering. And triggering doesn't mean that it's going to be painful or toxic, because the whole point of Chiron and North node is healing and transformations. Both will be uncomfortable and will see each other as a potential danger and there'll be a lot of doubt. But what they don't realise is they are not helpless. This is not about one person abusing the other, it's about both probably have the same trigger and fear and they might have the same toxic defense mechanism

Venus square Venus in synastry can be so intense because both can be very loyal to each other but have a very different way of showing it. This is precisely why they can’t let go of each other anyway even though they constantly fight or misunderstand each other in love. Especially if this synastry has Pluto or 8th house placement. One person’s form of loyalty could be marriage and the other might feel the same but their approach in marriage is very different. This will make the other person like “you said you wanna marry me but you do this, or you do it like this?? This doesn’t make sense to me”

I would like to say that no one truly ever move on from grieve. But especially water signs, they never truly "get over it". And people will say for example, it's because Scorpios want to take revenge, or Cancers are crybaby, or Pisces are delusional. But from my experience with them, it's because they really love deeply (if they love you for real). When they love it's become their whole being, you truly will become their world, their life. They will take you to their depth and you will be one with their ocean.

On the other hand, the best liars are water signs or water sign dominants. Again, this is my experience with them and as an air sign dominant I feel like I can't ever truly trust them??

People said Pisces have savior complex, well... in my experience it's Scorpios who has it. They like to be seen as someone / the only one who can save you. Perhaps they both have it, but in my own experience, it's Scorpios who most likely have it. Pisces energy seems too airy to me, almost like air signs. They won't really stick around, ya know? Like they love you so much but always want to run away as well. But not Scorpios. So if Scorpios thinks that they need to help you/save you, they effing will. Which can create co-dependants relationships in their life

People with Pisces in 12th house seems like they don't really have a real authentic self. It's worse than Neptune in 1st. They are the true chameleon. Like i'm not saying that they're fake, but they have a tendency to be "anyone", like they can change their appearance, behaviours, etc however they want it

#astrology #astro community #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology observations

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rowretro · 18 days

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𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊

✧warnings: Yandere/toxic themes, Cheshire Riki, manipulation ig? mentions of going mad, blood, mentions of abuse, mentioned of being stoned

❁synopsis: Y/n is a very curious girl, and incredibly creative, having grown up in a heartless, cold, boring family, others always ponderred if the mother perhaps had an affair. She's so sweet and cheery and always curious. Her head always in may books, shows, as she feeds off of whatever knowledge gains... In fact she herself started wanderring whether hse was going mad....

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Y/n was stuck in her room, her arms and legs all scratched up and bloody, she sat on the floor of her now, somewhat messy room. There and then she cried. Her eyes landed on the book above her vanity, she got up, limping, tripping over one of her stuffed toys, as she gripped onto the frame of the mirror, her face landing right on the mirror. However to her surprise, she didn't shatter it, or hurt her face, in fact she saw a whole new world.

Perhaps she had hit her head a little too hard and she was now in the afterlife? She immediately pulled away with all her might. Not a scratch on her face. She didn't even hurt herself. Curious, she reached her hand out to touch the mirror again, the mirror rippling as her hand went right. through the mirror. She looked back at her messy room then back at the mirror.

There's a whole crazy world on the other side of that mirror, No boring beings, senseless story books, long science essays that are meant to feed one's knowledge. Maybe behind the silver there's a whole dreamland. Smiling she stepped through the mirror. Boy was she stunned. Shocked, but she loved what she was seeing. "Oi mind your step!" a tulip yelled from beneath her foot.

"Oops- sorry sirmaam maamsir?-" she questioned, as she stared up at the sky "Ooh score tree candy!" she smiled, trying to reach for the gumdrop, only for the tree branch to suddenly go up "awh- can't I have candy mrmissmrrsmx tree?" Y/n asked, assuming the tree would also talk. A smile appeared mid air, and there, a handsome fucking man, smiling mischievously whilst staring down at her. "Well you're one cute lil kitty~" Riki said with a smile.

Since that very moment, everything seemed to be a blur. Y/n woke up gasping for air, there on the ground of her messy room. She had one very vivid, crazy dream, it felt so real yet she barely remembered most of it. She could only make out the figures of actual, human-sized solitaire cards chasing her down, A queen with a heart-shaped head. A white rabbit quite like her pet one, except it's male and it talks.

"Is there a chance I was stoned?" she asked herself as she shrugged, sitting up, there on her wall, surrounding the frame of her mirror, are solitaire cards. Is this some sort of Deja vu? Her shaky hands reached out toward the mirror, touching it. Yet she just left a finger print. It was just a dream. "No it wasn't sweetheart." Shocked, she turned to where that deep, dreamy yet familiar voice was heard. It's the Cheshire man.

"Have I officially gone mad? it's said that too much knowledge makes a human go mad" Y/n asked as the man snickerred, teleporting before her. "Everyone's mad here my darling..." he said "Darling?... no one's ever called me that-" She admittingly said. Riki smirked, walking around her in circles, tutting as he admired every inch of her "What a princess what a princess... why don't you do the honours miss Heart, and be my darling wife?" the handsome man asked as he stared down at her.

"Y/N. WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!" a woman screamed from the entrance, her eyes doubling in size as she noticed her daughter talking to thin air. "I KNEW IT. WE SHLDN'T HAVE ADOPTED SOME RANDOM 5 YEAR OLD THAT WAS PAINTING ON BRICK WALLS.... WE CAN'T HAVE A MAD WOMAN IN THE HOUSE. NO ONE'D MARRY YOU." she screamed. Ah yes, marriage. She's nothing but a pretty doll to sell to the richest man that'll treat her like his sex slave as he slept with other women, just so her so called family could have the money they want.

As the woman picked up a sharp dagger to stab poor y/n, she suddenly dropped dead, the very dagger pierced into her heart. "It seems you have no other choice my darling... you have to come back with me. Marry me. Let me love you in the place I call home, and you call your dreamland... if you stay here, they'll torture you cand claim that you killed her...." Riki explained as Y/n stood there frozen. Sure the woman was cruel and unloving, but she's still her mother...

"She isn't your real mother darling...... I know you're real mother... The queen of hearts." The male said, nothing but truth in his mouth. "You know you can trust my y/n... I know everything about you... I've been watching you through this mirror, my poor princess, so creative, curious and darling.... being mistreated in this dungeon.... let me take you home~" he said, opening a portal in the mirror. She had no choice, the guards had discovered the body... so through the mirror she went... into her wonderland.

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a/n: Idk if this is very yandere or if u cld wrap ur head around it, I'll try to be more active for now my darlings as I will be pretty inactive due to a-levels and soon even uni and work etc etc, I'll work through my requests<3

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lvrdrafts · 9 months

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Rescued by Love Part 2

★ Summary: Your brother Steve always hated you after your mother's death and when he finally gets the family's empire he is ready to sell you off to some toxic marriage but will the knight and shining armor save you or make it worse?

★ Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

★ Warnings: Arranged Marriage

★ Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Masterlist

The prospect of an arranged marriage had always seemed like a relic of the past, something that belonged to a different era. Yet here you were, facing this reality head-on as you prepared to meet the parents of the man you were about to marry – Bucky Barnes.

At first you were very nervous meeting them but as the conversations flowed, you found yourself laughing at Mr. Barnes' witty anecdotes, and Mrs. Barnes even shared a few embarrassing stories about Bucky's childhood. The tension that once hung in the air seemed to dissipate, and for a while, you allowed yourself to believe that things were changing for the better.

As dessert was served, Bucky's father leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his face. "I must admit, I'm surprised. You've managed to bring a certain charm to this place. I can't believe Bucky was able to find someone" he says and you laugh.

"I'm just happy my son brought a decent girl to marry." Bucky's mother says with a smile. With all these compliments you felt as if this arranged marriage wouldn't be that bad.

After some time, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, a small smile playing on your lips as you left the room. As you walked back, your footsteps light, you couldn't help but overhear a conversation that left you frozen in place.

"You know," Bucky's mother voice was hushed but still audible, "She's charming, but not exactly what I expected"

Bucky's father's response was just as cutting, "Well, she may not be that pretty, but if she can bring us a lot of heirs, that should make up for it."

Your heart sank, the weight of their words pressing down on you like a heavy stone. The moment shattered the illusion you had dared to hold onto, the belief that you were making progress in winning their approval. And then, Bucky's voice, his tone almost resigned, "I'm marrying her because of necessity, not because of her looks."

Tears stung at your eyes as you grappled with the realization that the warmth and acceptance you had felt might have been nothing more than a facade. The hurt cut deep, and you struggled to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall, and pushed open the door. Entering the room, you did your best to compose yourself, your emotions hidden behind a practiced smile. "I hope I didn't miss anything important."

Bucky's parents exchanged glances, their expressions revealing nothing of the conversation you had inadvertently overheard. "Of course not, dear" Bucky's mother replied, her smile almost too sweet.

And so, you resumed your place at the table, the weight of their words heavy on your heart. You engaged in the conversation, playing your part in the façade, all the while feeling the distance between you and the family grow.

As the evening drew to a close, you exchanged polite goodbyes, a sense of emptiness settling within you. The illusion of acceptance had been shattered, and you were left to grapple with the reality of their expectations.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

After the whirlwind evening at the Barnes estate, marked by both fleeting warmth and heartbreaking revelations, the days that followed were a blur. The weight of impending changes hung over you like a storm cloud as you and Bucky moved forward with the marriage arrangements. The papers were signed, sealing your fate within this complicated alliance.

A few days later, you found yourself standing in your own home, surrounded by half-packed boxes. The reality of leaving your life behind to move into Bucky's home felt like an overwhelming prospect. You folded a shirt, your mind wandering between thoughts of the past and apprehensions about the future.

And yet, the past was a shadow that refused to fade. Every item you folded seemed to hold memories – memories of the years you spent with Steve a man who had harbored resentment for as long as you could remember.

While in your thoughts you hear footsteps and you turn around to see the man himself. "I'm happy you're leaving. Maybe now I can finally have some peace" Steve's voice, filled with bitterness, echoed in your mind as you folded a cherished sweater.

Tears fell onto the fabric, as if your sorrow had seeped into every fiber. The weight of his words pressed heavily on your chest, and it felt like you were carrying the weight of his blame as you placed the sweater in the suitcase.

"This is a blessing in disguise – well, for me, really. At least I won't have to see your face around here anymore." Steve says chuckling at the sight of your tears.

The words struck like a dagger, reopening wounds that had never truly healed. "Steve, I didn't ask for any of this. I lost her too, and I've carried that pain with me every day."

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "You think your life is hard, well its not harder then mine. You may have lost her, but you didn't suffer like I did. You didn't have to watch her die."

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you struggled to contain your emotions. "Well at least you didn't lose your mother, and your brother you asshole!" you scream.

Steve looks at you with no emotion and you can't see if you hurt him that badly or he just doesn't care that much. "Get the fuck out of my house and I don't want to see you again" Steve says walking away.

As he walked away, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands. The room felt emptier now, your belongings neatly packed and ready to leave behind the pain and resentment that had defined your relationship with Steve.

Taglist:

@cjand10 @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @hereticdance @kentokaze @bruher @tupperwarefullofdirt

#bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x reader angst

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chloe-skywalker · 9 months

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What Does She Know? - Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon II x Fem!Reader

Warnings: G.O.T

Word count: 943

Summary: Alicent may love to put her children down, but Y/n won’t stand for it to affect her betrothed anymore.

Authors Note: I really do think if he had someone who really loved and cared about him he’d be SO different! Same for Aemond.

Masterlist

House Of The Dragon Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Why do you behave like this?” Alicent scoffed in disgust at her son. She was angered and annoyed at Aegon’s behaviors, no matter what it may be.

“Behave like what?” Aegon questioned with squinted eyes. He had completely closed in on himself, expecting the usual if not new degrading comments she always told him. Sure he was use to it, it's been happening all his life but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“A monster. A little boy desperate for attention that believes since he’s a prince he can do whatever he wants without any consequences.” Alicent sneered at her son. She despised her and Viserys' children. They all seemed to have the confidence and arrogance of the Targaryens. Nothing in them reminded her of the Hightowers.

Aegon did not answer her after that. He just looked down trying not to let his emotions show in her presence. Aegon was done with showing weakness in front of her.

“Pathetic.” She spat before turning around and leaving Aegon’s chambers she had practically barged into.

A few moments later, after hearing the door slam Y/n peeked her head out of the hidden passageway she had rushed to when they heard Alicent outside his door. “Aegon?”

When she didn’t get a reply Y/n came out and walked towards where Aegon was seated on the end of his bed. She had heard everything the so called Queen had said to Aegon and Y/n was fuming on the inside. How dare she treat and say things like that to him. Her own son and a prince.

“She’s right, you know. I’m a monster.” Aegon mumbled looking down to his lap feeling immensely insecure since his mothers rant.

Y/n immediately shook her head, not agreeing with his statement at all. “No you are not. You are not a monster.”

“That's not what my mother says.” He spoke in a whisper.

“And what does she know? Rhaenyra was her best friend and look how she treats her? Look how she treats you and your siblings? She doesn’t know anything. Definitely nothing good or correct.” Y/n exclaimed lifting his chin to look at her as she talked, but Y/n knew it was because he was listening but the negative thoughts were still in his mind.

“I don’t understand why she take it out on us? On me?” He questioned out loud not to anyone in particular.

Since their betrothal Y/n had seen the toxic environment in King's Landing, in the castle. Between the Hightowers and the Targaryens. Including between Alicent and her own children.

“Because she’s upset that she had to marry your father. But you know what, she should grow up and act like a lady. Like a queen. That’s the way life is for a woman. Especially a woman born with any type of title. We don’t get to choose who we marry, or how many kids we have. Nothing. You just are forced to grin and bare it but the least she could do is protect and care for her children. Be supportive to her so-called friend that she had to marry the father of.” Y/n ranted but she had a point. To everything she said, it was all very true. Aegon listened intently to what Y/n had said and it pained him. In the short time they had known each other Aegon had really grown to love the woman in front of him. And to hear how she as a woman had no say in anything, that really hurt him to think that might be how she thinks their relationship is going to be once they marry. Aegon reached out to hold her hands.

“Is that how you feel with me? With our arranged marriage? That you have no choice and that all you’ll be good for is having my children?” Aegon asked question after question. He truly hoped he could make her feel like his equal. “Cause that's not how I want our relationship to be. I want to be good enough for you. That you want me even if we are already arranged and have no real say. I want us to fall in love with one another and not spite each other. I don’t want to force you to have a ton of heirs just so we can please the court and the people. I don’t want to please anyone other than you.”

Y/n was stunned by his words, not having thought he was worrying about such things.

Y/n squeezed his hands and then let one go and reached up to cup the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. Looking into his eyes when she spoke. “Aegon. You have been an exception to what I said. You have treated me very kindly since we’ve gotten to know one another and I greatly appreciate that you seek out my advice. That you care about my opinion on things, that you don’t want to force me into anything or let anyone hurt me. That you actually care about me and I’m not just some slave your meant to fake love and breed with. I want to please you as well Aegon. But the difference is for us it’s because we love each other, truly love each other. That we want to please each other. Not out of duty.”

Aegon shook his head, feeling a weight lifted off his chest. “It will never be out of duty.”

Aegon pulled Y/n onto his lap into a kiss he hoped betrayed the love he felt for her and appreciation for her believing in him.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 7 months

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My Little Shadow: Part two (Azriel X Reader)

Warnings!: Abusive family, toxic relationship, arranged marriage.

Part one here: Part one

Part three

Thank you for all the people who like and re-blogged my last post! I couldn't believe so many people liked my story, so I worked hard to make sure I had the second part out today! Prepare for two shadowsingers to meet. As Y/N and Azriel meet again, is it the beginning of a friendship, or something more?

The past two weeks had been a nightmare, more so than usual.

After returning to my father’s home, he beat me senseless, afterward throwing me into my room and locking it from the outside.

No one had returned to even bring me food, although luckily I had saved some in a hidden spot for times just like this. I had thought that one day I would need to hide myself, my mother, or my sisters from his wrath.

I would have never imagined this scenario, but I probably should have.

I was his only daughter born before Amarantha’s reign. He had managed to keep us off her radar, but it had only helped so much. And then somewhere in there, he decided that he wanted another child. Seeing no end in sight to our stay under the mountain, he went for it.

Thinking about back then, about what I had done to keep my sisters safe, I clenched my hands, the old scars that ran up my back, legs, and arms hurting again.

I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, attempting to soothe me.

I smiled. There was one thing they could never take away.

After I had first learned how to speak with the shadows, I had discreetly done as much research as I possibly could. I knew that different shadows preferred different ways of presenting themselves, and had seen it myself.

But these shadows had followed me from that horrible cell under the mountain, becoming the only one I could trust. They take the form of a human woman, most likely one they had seen before who wouldn’t be using it anymore.

I couldn’t make out any facial features, and if they stood real still they looked like nothing more than my shadow, but if you looked closely, you might notice how it seems darker than it should, and that when you look at them from a certain angle you noticed that sometimes they were not flat against the wall, but their own entity entirely.

They helped me stay sane under the mountain, and now they were doing the same again as I wondered what would happen when my bedroom door finally opened.

I rested my head against the wall, the chill soothing my stressed mind.

After only a moment of this, I heard my door make a resounding click as someone unlocked it.

I whipped around, standing straight with my arms behind my back, back to being the respectful daughter.

I knew my shadows had gone back to hiding, still nearby in case anything was required of them.

My father opened the door, his clothes and hair more regal and pristine than usual.

“Get yourself dressed, we have an event to attend to.” He said unemotionally, walking away and leaving the door wide open.

Dread pooled in my stomach. Whatever this was, I already knew it wasn’t going to be good.

I put on one of my more plain dresses, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. I stalled for time, taking as long as possible to do my hair.

Maybe I could attempt to stay with one of my friends until Draven gave up on this whole arranged marriage thing. Though I had no clue which of them would sell me out for the most measly of rewards. Maybe all of them would.

Eventually, I could stall no more, my father in the doorway, watching me with dark beady eyes.

“Do I have my sweet little girl back, or am I to have to deal with this ungrateful little thing that’s taken her place?” He asked, placing his hands on my shoulders as he peered into the mirror, looking me in the eye.

I swallowed the hatred that bubbled up, the urge to take the delicate handle of my hair brush and plunge it deep into his chest. I met his eyes, letting none of that show as I spoke meekly, “I’m sorry for my previous outburst father, I promise never to speak to you like that again.”

He lifted a hand to stroke my hair, his expression almost sweet as he smiled, speaking low, “Good, I love you my darling girl. You are making me proud, and helping all of us. Never forget that.”

I forced myself not to shiver as he kissed my head before leaving the room.

Getting up to follow him, I took a few calming breaths, stealing myself for whatever may come.

After surviving years under the mountain, this should be nothing. But sometimes it felt as if I had more freedom then, than I ever will again.

Everyone was gathered in the main room, waiting for me.

None of them spoke a word to me as my father opened the door, and we all followed him out.

I had three younger sisters, and to my father’s disappointment, no brothers. My sisters crowded around me, offering silent comfort, my mother walking at my fathers side.

Was that what my life was going to look like after the marriage? Living a life in silent fear, with no hope of a better future as I was forced to watch my own children be sold away.

I started to feel sick again.

We eventually stopped in a hall and I recognised the rest of the way, leading the way to the living quarters of Keir.

“All of you stay here, and talk to no one.” My father instructed as he straightened the lapel of his jacket.

He looked at me, and I lowered my head as he spoke, “When I call for you, you will behave like the lady you are. Or there will be consequences. Understood?”

I nodded, not meeting his stare.

He made a smug noise before turning and walking the rest of the way down the hall. Keir opened the door after one knock, ushering him in quickly.

We stood there in silence for another moment before I felt a hand grasp mine. “It’ll be okay.”

I looked down to see my youngest sister grabbing my hand. She was too young to understand the difference between this place and Under the Mountain.

I gave her a little smile, placing a reassuring hand on her head. “Of course it’ll be alright. It may seem scary now, but remember what we always say-”

We both spoke at the same time, “Nothing can hurt us as long as we’re together.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wet with the beginning of tears. “But we aren’t going to be together.”

I knew that if my father saw, he would scold me, but I pulled her close into a tight embrace. “It’ll be alright darling, nothing can come between sisters.”

I let her go, quickly smoothing out my dress.

Feeling eyes on me, I looked up to see my mother quickly looking away.

I knew this wasn’t the life she had wanted either. She used to tell me stories of her family, who hadn’t lived in Hewn City but had been just as cruel. They had sold her to my father, just as he was now going to sell me.

Keir’s door opened, and my father poked his head out beckoning me in.

I obediently came to him, and he pulled me inside, shutting the door quickly behind us.

Keir’s taste in decor was awful. Everything had edges sharp enough to draw blood and there was almost no color in anything. It had a somewhat normal sitting situation, but what intrigued me was the painting that hung in the middle of the room, the subject of the portate being solidly him, with all of his family except his daughter sitting around him.

I swear I could see where she had been painted out.

“So this is the daughter you wish to wed to Draven?” Kier asked from the large chair he was lounging in, a disgusting smile on his face as he studied me.

Don’t react, don’t show what you think.

“Yes, say hi Y/N.”

“Hello.” I said meekly, not looking either of them in the eye.

I heard the floor creak, not realizing Keir had gotten up until he was tugging my chin upwards, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“Hmmmm.” He hummed as he studied my bruised face before letting me go.

“I heard about her little outburst earlier this month. If anyone will be able to tame her, it will be Draven. You have my approval.”

My stomach churned, and I wanted to scream, not hearing the self satisfied words they were passing back and forth now that my fate had been sealed.

I only came back to reality when my father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Did you hear me Y/N? I said it’s time to go.”

I bowed my head, following him out and back to my family.

Apparently, my house arrest was over, because once we made it back to one of the more public halls, he announced he would be at home celebrating if anyone needed him or my mother, dragging her off.

Two of my sisters were quick to rush off, but My youngest sister, Stella, stayed by my side as my eyes unfocused, unable to breathe as the panic struck me in full force.

Stella hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her tightly, breathing in her scent of sugar, dust, and warmth, knowing that soon I would never see her again except in passing.

“You should go hang out with your friends.” I managed to say once I calmed down enough.

Her eyes were wide as she pulled back, studying my face.

I forced myself to smile as I ruffled her hair, saying in a falsely cheery tone, “Hey! Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ma figure out how to fix all of this, okay?”

She nodded slowly, and I planted a quick peck on her forehead. “Now go! I’ll be fine.”

I waited until her scent had completely aired out before I let the tears fall, quietly sobbing as I realized that this was the end of my life.

For a little while, the only sound was my gasping sobs until I heard footsteps in the distance.

I covered my mouth, quieting myself even father as I listened.

My shadow companion manifested next to me, obviously noticing the steps as well.

I pondered on whether I should leave, I had already gotten myself in enough trouble, and I dreaded to think about the consequences if I was once again caught doing something my father would punish me for.

But something about the saltwater, baked goods, and dark male scent struck something in me. I knew it from somewhere, but for some reason I couldn’t place from where.

I once again looked to my shadows.

There was something we had learned to do. I wasn’t sure if it had never been documented, or if we were the first to be able to do this little trick, but I had never found anything about it.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I could see the world through a dark mist.

My shadows and I could become one in a way, turning me into a shadowy figure that could hide at will.

I could feel the shadows concern for me, and I sighed. “I’ll be fine, don’t be so fussy” I whispered right before I stretched my head around the corner, my breath catching as I saw who stood there.

Azriel.

I watched him, standing there with something like rage on his features as he paced back and forth, his shadows curling around his ear.

I could feel my shadows' curiosity. They loved interacting with shadows from different places, learning the stories they held of other lands.

Sometimes I wondered if they wanted out of this place even more than I did.

As I thought about this I wasn’t watching the Illerian male. And so didn’t notice when he spotted me until he spoke.

“Hello there.”

I practically jumped out of my skin when I heard him speak, preparing to turn and run when one of his shadows reached me, tugging me into full view.

Luckily with my shadows and I being one, I would only look like a stark shadow.

“Who are you?” He asked, not necessarily angry as he approached me, his shadows loosening their grip on my waist.

“Does it matter?” I asked, my voice silkier in this form than normal.

He smirked. “It does if you were spying on me.” He said, and I saw the blue siphons on his armor glow threateningly.

This is normally where I would apologize, play nice until they realized I was no threat.

But he didn’t know who I was, and I was already boiling over with rage.

“If I wanted to spy on you, I wouldn’t have been caught.” I say as I take a step through his shadows, his expression flickered to one of shock for just a millisecond before turning back into stone.

“Then what were you doing here?” He asked, his head tilting as he looked down at me.

I grinned, looking up at him. “Well, I was minding my own business when I heard some footsteps. Really, I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

His lips twitched upwards as he looked down at me. “I’m waiting for someone to come meet me, but now I’m wondering if I should reschedule.”

My heart started to beat faster with the way he stared down at me, his gaze intense. “And why is that?”

He grinned now. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a shadow quite like you.”

I was trying to think of some response that wasn’t just embarrassed babbling when we both heard footsteps coming closer.

Without a moment's hesitation I turned and ran. He called out after me, but I ignored it, knowing better than to stay around and see who was coming.

Eventually when I was closer to home, I let my shadows unwind, taking their own form again.

“Thank you.” I whispered to them, and I could feel their happiness.

Meanwhile, I was once again spiraling, but for none of the same reasons as before.

What had I been thinking, taunting the high lord’s spymaster like that? There were so many bad things that could happen. What if he found out that I wasn’t just some shadow? What if he found out who I was and told my father?

I took a deep calming breath.

He didn’t know who I was, and so there was nothing that he could do to me.

More confident, and something else than my impending doom to think about, I went home.

As I opened the door, my father cheered, “She’s back! My precious daughter who is going to be our salvation.”

My mother was sitting in his lap, and I quickly looked away as I headed for my room.

“Oh, and sweetheart,” My father said, drawing my attention back to him as he continued, “The date is set, in a little over a month you’ll be married!”

He laughed, happy as could be as he nuzzled my mother’s neck.

I felt sick. About how soon I would lose my last scraps of freedom, how even though I could see the well hidden disgust on my mother’s face, she let him touch her, his hands gripping her hips so tight it must be painful.

As I went into my room and closed and locked the door, I couldn’t help but hope I would run into Azriel again, despite the risks.

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thebestofoneshots · 1 month

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This is so out of nowhere but do you think Sirius would want to get married and start a family? Like kids and stuff. Both as a character in canon and in GC. I’ve been thinking about it deep and hard lately. And i wanted to know what you think? cause i believe you have such good grasp on him (and other marauders era characters as well).

Oh, this is a brilliant question! At first, I wasn't sure, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense in my head, so hear me out:

I think Sirius was absolutly horrified by the idea of marriage in early teens. He was beyond scared since the marriages he was mostly exposed to when he was a child weren't born of love, but rather of political arrangements.

I think he sees marriage as an institution (he hates those) that his parents were ready to ascribe themselves –and him– to. A political ploy for power or blood purity or whatever it might be the Blacks had in their eyes at the time. Not something to aspire to, but something to repudiate (like he did with most Noble House of Black-related things).

In fact, I think part of Sirius' playboy persona was born from this, he thought relationships weren't all that, and was scared of commitment bc he thought he knew how they would end, which is why he dated around instead of devoting himself to a relationship. His behaviour was somewhat of a defence mechanism against his perceived inevitability of future failure (also it enraged Walburga and Sirius would have done anything to enrage her).

When Sirius got to live with the Potters, and the more time he spent with them (wasn't that much, unfortunately), he saw that things weren't always the same. That relationships didn't have to be toxic and they didn't have to end the way they did in the Black family.

He learned that not all relationships are about give and take, but some are just about giving and receiving, and he was fascinated by this. He finally understood why James wanted a relationship (and a marriage) with Lily.

And while this gave Sirius a new perspective on how things can be, it didn't erase the fact that he was scared of it. He was scared that he was too much of a Black and he wouldn't be able to have something like the Potters, but instead, he would inevitably end up like his parents –because it was in his blood.

I think the same applies to children, Sirius is too scared to be like his parents and fuck his children up, although I do think he likes kids since he always proved to be fond of Harry, Ron and Hermione after he met them. But especially Harry, he loved him like he had been his own kid, or I guess the same way he loved James, like family.

Having said that, and while I don't think Sirius would expect a grandiose wedding or anything of the sort, I do think, after some time and finding a partner that he loves and living with them for a while, and therefore knowing what it is to be in a relationship with them and having evidence that he wouldn't end like his parents, he could entertain the idea of marriage, and would eventually open to one (perhaps even to having children).

Same thing applies to GC Sirius, in fact, and you'll see this once the chapters have been posted, but Sirius is already entertaining an idea similar to this while watching the Potters during the Christmas break (Still a few chapters to go, though).

Read Gilded Constellations

Sidenote: This was really fun!! I love psychoanalysing characters.

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booglyoogly13 · 11 months

Text

Don’t Blame Me ~ Rafe Cameron x Reader (Mafia/Mob and arranged marriage AU)

PART 2

Hi! This is my first ever fanfic, I hope whoever reads it likes it. 🫶🫶

Warnings: Even more toxic rafe, swearing, smoking, and lots of crying from reader’s end because I really channeled how much I cry in this chapter

Word count: 1717

PART 1

not my gif, credits to the owner!!

The car’s engine starts and soon it’s pulling away from the one familiar thing I have. I look at the driver in the rear view mirror, then out the window when I see how I look, devastated and betrayed. We drive for what feels like hours when finally the car comes to a stop in front of a huge house, I wipe my tears away trying to pull myself together before I go into the house. The car engine shuts off and the driver opens the door for me, I thank him and walk to the front door and see Rafe standing there smoking another cigarette, he looks at me with disgust and that’s when I know he didn’t want this anymore than me. I put on a brave face and smile at him, holding the ring my dad gave me right in my hand.

“Hi,” I feel so nervous I might vomit but I keep it together and walk by him and into the house when he doesn’t answer. I feel Rafe looking at me and then I stop realizing I know nothing about this house or where to go. I turn and look at him and he smirks and walks towards me, “Why are you crying?” I scoff but say nothing, not trusting myself to speak in that. I take a deep breath and compose myself, “Where am I supposed to go, Rafe?”, he looks at me in mock questioning, “To sleep. Where am I supposed to sleep?” He rolls his eyes at me and walks ahead of me. He looks back to make sure I’m following him, he heads to the staircase in the middle of the foyer and points up the stairs, “First door on your left, do I need to show you left and right or can you do that on your own Princess?” I give him an angry look and walk up the stairs and to the left, my jaw dropping when I see the view from the room. “Wow.”

The window is huge and overlooks the gardens, which are perfect, i take a mental note to explore tomorrow. I walk into the bathroom and sit on the tile, that being my favorite way to calm down. This is the first minute I could take a breather and it feels good, I look at the ring my dad gave me, anger flowing through me again. How could he do this to me? Anger surges through me and I throw the ring across the room, “Fuck you!” I yell to no one in particular, my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest and loud sobs rack my body. I hear someone walk into the bathroom but say nothing expecting it to be Rafe, “What’s all this fucking shouting for?” I turn at the new and unexpected voice and see a very big man looking down at me angrily. I turn back around to hide my tears and because he looks terrifying. He walks closer to me, his shadow looming over my sitting body, “I said, what’s all this shouting for?” His voice sends a shiver down my spine, the angry tone making me more angry.

He has no right to be angry at me, he’d be yelling if he was me too. I turn to him again, “Leave me alone.” I say as assertive as possible, but it must not do the trick because he smiles an awful smiles and laughs at me, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, want to know why?,” he doesn’t wait for an answer, “Because I’m Rafe’s right hand, and if you don’t start treating me with respect your first day here will be your last.” I shudder at the threat but don’t give up because I deserve it respect if he deserves it, “Fuck you, you might be his right hand but I’m like his wife or whatever the fuck.” He laughs again and I know that he doesn’t give a shit, out of the corner of my eye I see someone else walk into the bathroom and know it’s Rafe because I can smell the stench of cigarette smoke. I look at him and am met with his cold, blue eyes, if I didn’t know better I’d think he was a statue, “I didn’t know I married both of you,” I say to Rafe angrily, he stands taller and walks towards me and laugh, a dark, menacing laugh, “You just don’t get it yet, do you Y/n? You’re mine now,” he smirks at the fear in my eyes. He grabs my hand and looks at me as if asking, "Do you understand?" I scoff, “If I’m yours then why is he threatening me?” Rafe laughs but says nothing instead stepping back from me and lighting a cigarette and puffing the air towards me.

Suddenly, something in me snaps and I push at his chest, “Fuck you,” I say pushing on his chest angrily, “I hate you you piece of shit!” He looks at me for a second, shocked and then his jaw ticks and his eyes go back to their cold stare and when he speaks it comes out quiet, “You listen to me right now, if you ever do that again, I will kill you. I don’t give a shit who you are. Got it Princess?” I nod and he turns around, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him. I walk into the bedroom and fall into the bed not interested in being awake any longer, I crawl under the covers and fall into a restless sleep.

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

I wake up the next morning to the rising sun shining through my window and I yawn. I remember that I wanted to explore the house last night so i get up and walk out my door going down the stairs and walking down a hallway. I pass a large set of doors and open them and am met with the smell of books, I smile realizing it’s a library. I walk next to a large shelf of books, running my fingertips on the spines of each one. I stop when the shelf ends and there’s a door, I grab the handle and twist and walk inside, I stop once I enter when I see that Rafe and a few other men are in there, and having what looks to be a meeting.

My face flushes when I’m met with their stares, “I’m sorry,” I say quietly and turn to leave, Rafe’s eyes scan my body and he walks towards me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his chest. He puts his lips next to my ear and says, “Where do you think you’re going Princess?” I look at floor, scared to see his cold gaze looking at me. He puts his hand under my jaw and forces me to look up at him, “Don’t you want to discuss what happened last night?” He smirks when I look at him with fear in my eyes and I look behind him at the men waiting to continue the meeting, “You’re in a meeting though.” He shakes his head and looks at me like I’m stupid, “These men mean nothing to me,” he smirks, and walks toward the exit of the library, “Come here.” He beckons me with the flick of his chin and I nod, walking over to him, “That’s a good girl,” he says mockingly and my face feels like it’s on fire.

He walks up the stairs and into a bedroom that’s twice the size of mine and goes over to a bar, pouring himself a drink, “What do you think?” He asks looking around the room, I look at him confused, “Of what?” He laughs under his breath and walks closer to me, “Of our room, Princess.” I look at him shocked, our room? I just got a room last night. He laughs at my expression but says nothing so I speak up first, “I’m sorry for walking into your meeting earlier.” He shakes his head no and sets his drink down, “You’re sorry? No no no…” He flares at me like I’m stupid, “You don’t get to be sorry in my house.” I look at the ground, embarrassed again, “I’m sor-“ I cut myself off when I realise I was going to apologize again, Rafe looks at me mockingly confused, “Finish your sentence Princess.” I shake my head, scared that’s he’ll yell at me, “I didn’t mean to.” He looks at me like I’m a child who needs to be scolded, “You didn’t mean to?”, he laughs cruelly, “Then what the fuck did you mean to do hm?” He steps closer to me, forcing me to look up at him. He raises an eyebrow waiting for a response, “I,” I sigh, “I meant to say sorry but I always say sorry so I wasn’t thinking when I almost said it.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, walking back over to his drink, “That’s pathetic. You always say sorry Princess? What a fucking joke.” My eyes fill with tears at his abuse but I refuse to let them fall, I turn towards the door, not wanting to entertain him anymore I mumble a fuck you as I grab the door knob and open the door but jump when it slams closed.

Rafe’s hand above my head, keeping the door closed, “What did you just say?” His eyes are filled with anger as he looks down at me and grabs my forearm, dragging me away from the door. I wince at the right grip he has, knowing it will turn into a bruise, “I said fuck you.” He jaw clenches when he hears me say it but he says nothing, instead pushing me away from him. I stumble backwards but catch myself before I fall. He takes a sip of his drink and talks into the cup, “Just remember that I own you,” I nod, tears flowing down my face, “Get the fuck out of my sight.” I open the door and close behind me, my hands shaking from what happened. I walk back towards the stairs and into my room, shutting the door and sliding down it, my trembling knees not able to hold me up any longer.

smut in next chapter!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks

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b00kdiary · 1 year

Text

Unexpected (VI)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: LONG chapter, violence, swearing, mature content (18 +) FINAL

Masterlist (Aemond Targaryen)

“An eye for an eye!”

I heard the exclaim one second and then the next, I see the dagger in the brunette girl's hand, see the shine of the blade's edge glistening as if dives down straight for Y/N’s breakable heart.

“No!” I scream out in a voice I can scarcely recognise and I barely reach in time to throw back her chair, but still, I watch in horror as that blade sinks deep into the flesh above her chest and blood runs, dark and endless.

Y/N cries out as it slashes into her, falling back with her chair at the strength of my shove.

My mind reels, hot bright red covering my gaze and with utter wrath at the cries and terror around me, I unsheathe the dagger at my side, my own chair falling back as I stab it up and forward, into the waiting girl's stomach.

She lurches, grunting but I can barely think from the endless thrumming in my blood, the relentless fire coating my tongue. I grab the servant girl by the front of her frock, ripping her forward and slamming her into the table before me, that dagger still sinking into the warmth of her belly.

I twist it in blood gushing and I am growling, roaring, seething like the monster that she has turned me into, toxic madness filling me as she sobbed at the pain.

My eyes flare at the dagger that falls from her small limp hands.

The dagger that was coated in my Lady’s blood.

“Who sent you?” I demand, gripping my fingers and digging my nails into the base of tan her neck as I hold her up to my face. She pants, tears staining as she grist her teeth and I yet again screw that dagger embedded in her, revelling at the broken pleas that escape her mouth.

“Aemond” I can faintly hear my mother desperately calling me, faintly feel her tugging at my arms, and yet nothing can cool my anger, nothing can ease the boiling need for vengeance in my veins.

“Who fucking sent you?!” I demand again, my voice so savage and hoarse that she flinches, shuddering and weakening as the blood pooled and leaked out of the mortal wound I had dealt her.

“An eye for an eye” She gasps out, her hazel eyes fluttering from the exertion, but I shake her again furiously, slamming her back into the table. I hear my mother yell at me again, crying now, but I still don’t let her go, I could not, would not let her go.

“Who?” I hiss, teeth clenching “Was it my fucking whore sister? Who fucking sent you?”

“You stole her son” She choked, head lolling side to side and her curly brown locks matting to the sweat on her head and blood now leaking from her mouth, “You stole what she loved, and she will steal what you love too.”

My blood goes cold at the words, my body tensing and freezing.

“She will never stop” The girl continues, a small and vicious smile now gracing her blueing lips “She will kill everything and everyone you love, just as you have done to her.” I grimace, opening my mouth to speak but I pause at that cold emotionless void I find.

I baulk as she grabs two shaky, weak hands onto my own, and within seconds she is pushing with all her might, pushing that dagger deeper into her stomach, all the way to the hilt.

I gape as she chokes, groaning, crying out at the pain before slowly her body stops tremoring, her hands fall to her side and she collapses lifelessly from my hold.

Eyes open.

Lips curled into a smile.

I shudder back, my hand ripping from the dagger, dark blood now coating it like a glove.

“Aemond!” My mother rushes to me, her eyes wide and alert, her hands running over my face and my body as she cries and gasps, as she checks to ensure that I am ok. I grab her wrecked and unsteady hands, blood smearing as I try to calm her.

“I am fine, I am-“

My Lady.

The terror knocks me like a blow to the gut, and I stumble back, my own hands now shaking and I see that knowing and pained sheen in my mother’s eye.

No.

I turn, so fast my head spins and look at the girl now laid out, sprawled lifelessly on the floor, her once cream dress now almost completely stained red. Her mother was at her side gripping her hand, sobbing, wailing, fighting off the hold of her husband who too was gritting his teeth and shedding tears for his daughter.

No.

I rush towards her and collapse on my knees beside her.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

“No no no no no” I whisper hoarsely, shaking my head as my hands move to cup her face. “My Lady, no no, do not do this to me” I beg, my voice cracking as I feel the coldness of her skin, feel the limpness of her head as it falls to the side and remains there.

Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted slightly and her body was still and silent with her hand splayed over her stomach, utterly immovable.

She looked like she was asleep.

“Do not do this to me!” I roar, my head falling to her chest, red now soaking into the silver locks of my hair as it brushes against the still bleeding wound there and I can barely think nor can I see for the tears that fog my vision.

“Y/N please” I rasp with tears against her neck, my left hand tightly wrapped around her body while my right soothes her wrecked hair, desperate to keep her close. “Please, I cannot live without you” The words are a breathless murmur, the pain coiling in my chest and the shattering of my heart suffocating me as I breathe in that familiar smell of jasmine against her soft skin.

I freeze at the sound of a wheezed gasp of breath.

My lungs stop at the shudder I feel against my cheek.

“Oh thank the gods” Her mother cries out, the sound hit me like ice-cold water.

I shoot up, my chest seizing from hope, from fear and grief and only when my eye locks onto her face do I finally release a broken and desperate breath.

I watch as her tender eyes flutter, watch as her lips part open and her head shifts.

I nearly sobbed at the croak of pain that escapes her dry and aching mouth.

“The Maester” I yell, my head snapping up, looking past the worry and tears of my mother and Helaena, past the sobbing four Baratheon daughters and the other endless guards.

“Get the fucking Maester now” I demand, watching the chaos ensue as several people run off to follow through with the command, fear filling them at the world-ending promise in my eye.

I sink back onto my knees, my body weak and shaking, as I reach forward to cup Y/N’s tremoring face, and though her eyes were still closed I found solace in the faint rise and fall of her chest and the small wheezed breaths that escape her lips.

“You’re going to live” I croaked, my face tensing with determination as I moved to kiss her cheek, “You are going to fucking live and we are going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

I swear that her breath sucks in and out stronger in reply to my words.

***

Everything hurt.

All I can comprehend is darkness and shadows and the fact that every morsel of my being ached and burned like wildfire.

I feel my brain regain consciousness, feel the heaviness of my sore eyelids as they remained shut and felt the softness of the silks that enveloped my agonised body as every sense awoke again.

I flutter my eyelids, the action taking more effort and exhaustion than ever before and I fight against the harshness of the sudden light, fight against the burning and tears that begin to leak down my face.

I blink several times, acquainting myself with the unfamiliar walls of a room that was not mine, acquainting myself with every inch of my new surroundings and the fog of my memory of how I ended up here.

My breathing stalls.

“An eye for an eye”

The servant girl stabbed me, I realised, the answering thrum of pain that shoots through me a sure reminder.

I sigh, wincing slightly as I look from the open window cascading out to the orange-hewed sky and my head lolls to the right, my body relaxing at the sight there.

Aemond was sat upon a chaise, sleeping.

My face softens, tears filling my eyes at how at peace he looked, slumped in his chair with his head leant against his clenched fist. I take in the blood-stained and creased white undershirt, the patches of red soaked into the silver locks of his hair and the dried crusted coat against his hands.

He had been here for a very long time.

I groan quietly, desperate not to wake him from his slumber as I take in the loose and soft black men's shirt I wore and the lack of anything else. I cringed as I pulled the material down, huffing at the sight of my chest bandaged, soaked with blood dark enough that it looked black and the bruised and welted skin that peaked out on the sides.

I bite my lip to mask the pain that shoots through my chest and arms as I move to sit up, but the shifting of my body is enough to alert Aemond beside me.

I startle as he jumps, eye wide and hands falling to his dagger with utter alarm and ruthless promise as he searches the surrounding for the threat. I pant slightly as his tense face sweeps the area before eventually falling to me.

My heart frowns at the way his face lights upon seeing me awake.

“My Lady?” He whispers, a broken voice as he stares at me in disbelief and it takes every part of me to not throw myself at him, to not kiss that devastation from his beautiful face.

I open my mouth, but the trauma of my wound and all that has happened has dried out my throat and all that escapes my parted lips is a throaty and dry cough, one that leads to an endless flurry of coughs and wheezes that has my body seizing in agony and tears start leaking.

Aemond starts, his face falling as he grabs the glass at his side, his hands physically shaking as he pours water from the jug into it and brings it to me. I try to stifle my wheezes as he brings the cup to my lips, his hands tender as he holds the back of my neck to keep me up.

I nearly sight at the feeling of the cold water against my parched and barren mouth, my body calming in contentment as it seeps into my mouth, gliding like heaven down my aching throat and into my body.

I nod to him as he pulls the glass away, watching his weary eyes as his tense and still body places it atop the drawer beside me, within reach.

“My Prince-“

“I should call the Maester” He cuts in firmly, his body quick to stand and move as he looks away from me. I gasp, my hand lunging forward to grab him but the movement has me grunting out harshly, the pull ripping pain through me so thoroughly that I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming.

“My Lady” Prince Aemond chokes, collapsing onto the bed beside me in a heartbeat, his hands enclosing my body and pressing my head to his chest. I can feel his body trembling, feel the unsteadiness of his hands as he tries to soothe against my loose hair.

I grit my teeth, swallowing down the bile in my throat at that fire now lessening and I take in the strength of his body against mine, the pine scent of his skin, and the feeling of his warm breath on my skin as I reel myself back to reality.

I lift my weak head, eyes fluttering as I try to look at him.

“Are you alright?” He demands, voice shaky, hands now running up my neck and clasping my face “Does it hurt? Is it bleeding?” His words grow hectic, alarm and fear and hysteria coating his tone as his eye flickers madly over my face, over my body.

“I should call the master-“

I cut off his blind panic, my chest tightening at the unparallel fear that has paralyzed him as I lift my hand to cup his cheek, to bring his face closer to mine.

He exhales harshly as I rest my forehead against his, his eye shuttering and lips thinning at the feeling of me against him, at my smooth touch rubbing his jaw and calming his tenseness.

“I am ok, My Prince” I whisper, my voice cracked but still I keep my tone firm and sure “I am alive, and I am safe. I am with you.”

His face shatters, and my heart seizes in my chest at the broken and wrecked Prince before me.

“You died-“ His words break away, his voice cracking as a tear slips down his pained face “I tried to stop her but she still got you and you were on the floor, and you died-“

“Shhh” I feel my own tears begin to leak too, feel them fall and soak in my shirt, mixing with his as I keep us pressed together. His eye meets mine, darkened by shadows and guilt. “I am here with you now My Prince. I am here because you pushed me out of the way, she would have put that dagger straight to my heart if it were not for you.”

“If it were not for me no one would be attacking you with daggers, to begin with,” He hisses, eye flaring as he rips himself back from me, leaning back as he shakes his head in utter fury. I furrow my brow, confusion filling me.

“What?” I whisper and he frowns, remorse lighting his dark face.

“She was sent by Rhaenyra, an eye for an eye” I gape as the reality of his words sink in, and I see how his entire body shudders too “Someone I love in exchange for the son that she loved.”

I sigh, taking in all the information and I can see already how he has condemned himself, how he has blamed himself and played judge, jury and executioner for his crimes.

“I will not blame you for hating me,” He says quietly, his jaw locked as he looks away from me “I will understand if you desire to nullify the marriage, no one will stop you or fight you should you decide to return to Storm’s End with your father, I would not-“

“You fucking bastard” I hiss.

His eye snaps to me, surprise and hurt lighting his face as he looks at me, taking in the sneer and watering eyes.

“Y/N, I-“

“No” I cut in sternly, anger lighting my face. “No.”

He stops, dejection on his face, as he interprets my words as hatred, as blaming for what has happened.

Stupid fucking Prince.

“Do you honestly think that I would ever, ever agree to that?” I demand, my voice raised higher and sharper than ever and I watch him gape with shock and pained confusion at me. “Someone tried to kill me, you nearly lost me for good and now that I am here, really here, you would willingly push me away? Again?!”

He glowers, facing tapering at me as he leans towards me, hands resting on his thigh “Exactly! Someone nearly fucking killed you and I will not put you in danger-“

“I ALREADY AM IN FUCKING DANGER!” I roar, my voice cracking severely from the power, my body lurching from pain, my wound stretching but I still don’t relent “I will always be in danger for the rest of my life.”

He grits his teeth, hurt lining his face.

“I will be in danger for the rest of my life because I love you.” His body freezes, his eye latching to me but I continue, my voice quieting “I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the knife that is aimed at my back because I love you and I would rather die than give you up.”

“And yet, you would so easily give me up” My voice breaks, and I see him flinch, physically flinch at the utter heartbreak and sorrow in my words.

“No no no,” He says quickly, shaking his head wildly as he leans forward and cups my soaked face in his large hands. “I do not give you up easily, I do not give you up willingly. Never.” He states firmly, his fingers digging into my cheek and jaw as if hopelessness fills him.

“You are the air in my fucking lungs and I cannot breathe without you, I cannot live without you, My Lady” He declares, his face etched with sorrow “But I cannot hold your lifeless and bleeding body like that again, cannot feel your cold skin and still heart I cannot-“

I pant at the tears that now clog his throat, at the way he shakes his head so frantically as if every memory of my dead and bleeding body was like a waking and sleeping nightmare that taunted his every moment.

“I cannot fear losing what I love for every moment of the rest of my life, I cannot do that.” He pleads. I sigh, my eyes burning as I hold my hands over his and feel the way they shake.

“I know my Prince,” I murmur, my hand moving to wipe the tears from his face “I cannot imagine what that must’ve felt like and I pray to the Gods that I never will… but I will always be a target, I will always be in danger and I can either be by your side and we live whatever life we can together, or we can both be alone and afraid, waiting in isolation for the day that the other half of us dies.”

He shudders at my words, his eye closing and I move to firmly cup his jaw, forcing his attention back to me.

Forcing him to accept my words.

“Don’t let them win, don’t let them divide us, torture us” I beseech, my eyes locked relentlessly with his. “We need each other My Prince, like air, like water and food and everything good in life, we need each other.”

Silence envelopes us as we stay held together, our bodies melding together like pieces of a puzzle, two souls made for each other forming one.

“You are right, my Y/N” He whispers, nodding, sinking into my touch “I will take however much time the gods grant me to be with you and I will cherish every precious moment as if it were my last.” My heart soars at the vow, at the resolute and deep promise in his rasped words.

I sigh into the soft and tender kiss he presses against my lips, my body liquifying and scorching at the passion and emotion behind the brush of his lips against mine, behind the restraint and control, the concern for my health that held him back from taking me fully.

“We will win this war” He laments, whispering hoarsely against my lips. “I will kill every fucking person in this realm and set them alight before anyone ever hurts you again.”

I smile, my fingers caressing the silken locks of his hair as I press my lips against his, enjoying the warmth and roughness, a whine escaping me at the faint brush of his tongue against mine.

“We will burn the world until only we remain” I mutter back, my vow shaking across him and settling between us.

***

“You may leave,” I told my handmaiden, looking up from my seat at the vanity to nod, smiling to ease the worry that coated her face. She hesitates, but still nods, bowing her head at me before fleeing from my chambers.

I sigh as the lock clicks shut behind her, turning back to the looking glass to remove the clips from my hair, and pointedly ignoring the stare of my husband that burned into my back.

“You don’t require your handmaiden to help you undress for the night?” Prince Aemond asks, and I can hear the smirk on his lips. I bite back my amusement, instead moving to run my fingers through the loose locks of my brown and soft hair.

I look through the mirror, my eyes locking with his as he sits on the edge of the bed, thighs spread and hands leant carelessly against them. I take in his raised brow and that feline smirk as he watches me.

“Why would I need her when I have my Lord Husband to assist me?” I purr back, feigned innocence coating my face as I bat my lashes at him. He chuckles low and deep, and my shivering body moves to stand as I watch him raise to his feet and move towards me.

My toes curl at the predatory intent in his eye.

I grin as he comes before me but instead of turning, I slip my hands around his neck, toying with his hair as I raise onto my toes and press my lips to his.

He returns it back instantly, his hands falling to curl at my waist and his tongue slipping into my mouth to fan against my tongue. I moan as I press my breasts against his leathers, my fingers digging as I battle my tongue with his.

The kiss is needy and raw and I take my chance to slip my hands down the front of his leathers, however, the second my hand comes in contact with the buckle, Aemond pulls away from me.

“Aemond” I sigh furiously, stepping back and frowning at the stern warning on his face.

“Y/N” He starts, his tone harsh “I have already told you, not while you are still injured-“

“It has already been a fortnight!” I exclaim, my hands rising in disbelief “The Maester cleared me as fully fit last week and yet you still refuse to touch me, we have not even consummated our marriage yet.” I feel the tears of frustration prick at my eyes and his face falls at it.

“I do not want to harm you, My Lady” He moves forward reaching for me, but I yank away, hissing as I move to the other side of the room.

I do not look at him as the tears burn my eyes, rejection and humiliation eating at me.

I loosen the ties at the back of my gown, my anger is taut as I yank and tug at the laces, even as I can't fully reach them to unhook the secures there.

He sighs dejectedly and I hear his footsteps echo closer and then halt behind me. His fingers scrape against my back and I grunt, slipping away from his hold.

“My Lady, please” He sighs, his voice gruff and when he reaches for me again, his hands languishing up my thighs and hips and waist, I let him help me.

I exhale deeply as he presses my body to his, my back flush against his chest as his hands encircle my waist and stop just below my breasts. My breathing stutters as he pushes all the hair from my neck and I groan lowly at the small and wet kisses he places against the column of my neck.

“Aemond” I moan, enjoying how his hands tighten at his name on my lips, my eyes fluttering shut as he scrapes his teeth against my pulse point, sucking lightly to bruise the sensitive skin there.

I pant as his hands move back to the laces, his nimble fingers making quick work of unhooking and removing the ties and I sigh as the dress loosens and I tug it down, off my shoulder, over my aching breasts and down to pool at my feet on the floor.

Prince Aemond pulls back, eye blazing as he takes in the champagne sheer and short chamise I was wearing, his eye trailing like fire over the thin straps, and low neck that exposed my cleavage and heavy breasts, before grazing down to how it hugged my curved hips and soft belly, stopping at the middle of my thick thighs.

“Hmm” The sound was a savage and carnal growl deep in his throat as he took me in, his body clenching with need and lust and I whine as I inch myself closer to him.

“My Prince” I call, my voice laced with yearning and his eye shutters at the tone “ Please, I need you.”

He grunts at my pleading, his resolve softening and I watch as his eye falls from my face to the scabbed and purple stitched scar that now graces my chest, just above the curve of my breast. My heart ached at the hurt on his face but I gasped as his head dipped and he pressed a feathery kiss just above it.

When he looks back up at me, I can see the decision on his face.

I groan into the wild kiss he pulls me into, revelling in how his hands pull me flush against him and I'm quick to dig my nails into his hair and cup his jaw to keep him unnaturally close.

My body sparks in recognition of his fierce lips on mine, the nostalgia of the night in the library lighting me on fire as his tongue fans mine and his hands squeeze my hips and then settle against my ass, kneading it with reverence.

I gasp as he lifts me, his hands under my waist and I’m quick to wrap my legs around him, the feeling of my core settling against his hips enough to make me whine. He snickers as he kisses me again, our bodies flushed and his hands firm on my ass to keep me up.

Our teeth clash and tongues battle as I feel him turn, easily and smoothly walking over to the bed and I shiver at the wind that cascades over me as he gently drops me to the plushness. He stays bent, his lips kissing mine with need and utter want.

I sigh as he again kisses down my neck, his hot tongue trailing over my skin and sucking against spots that have me whimpering and my thighs clenching.

He doesn’t waste time, not as I feel his hands fall to the bottom of my chaise and I’m eager to help as he shimmies it up my thighs and over my ass, pulling away from my neck to pull the material over my head and onto the floor.

I shake under his eye, under that dark and lust-filled storm that clouds his gaze as he takes in my heavy and peaked breasts, gazes over my soft stomach and supple hips and then rests between the slightly parted thighs.

Red, hot embarrassment and shyness eat at me and I cringe as I close my legs, my hands instinctively going to my breasts to cover myself.

It felt wrong to be so naked before him like this.

“No no” He tuts, his face tapering with ire as he gently slaps my hands from my breasts, his hands falling to part my tense and unsure thighs. I watch his eye spark, see that delicious grin grace his perfect mouth. “I want to see every inch of you, My Lady”

My body was alight at his gaze but my heart felt at ease at the look of desire, at the pure attraction and lust that coated his face.

I battle with myself as he watches me but with a shaky hand, I place my finger against the band of his eye patch.

“Y/N” He warns, face dropping as his body tenses.

“I want to see the real you” I whisper back, utter truth behind my words.

“I do not want to scare you,” He says grimly and I frown at his words.

“My Prince, I am here bare before you, scars on my body and all,” I say, and his eye drops with tenderness to my wound “I want you bare too, scars and all.”

He sighs, contemplating and my breath stutters as he brings up his hand, grabbing mine and together we grip the leather strap and pull it off his head.

I let the material slip through my fingers, too enraptured with the sight before me to care.

Aemond does not baulk, he stares at me facing my judgement head on and yet, I have little to say, too in awe of its perfection.

The sapphire in place of his eye, framed by the pink long scar somehow made him even more beautiful.

I shake my head, a disbelieving laugh escaping me and I watch his brow furrow in confusion. I don’t say anything, merely cupping his jaw and bringing my lips to his in a desperate and feeling kiss, and I feel him melt into it with relief.

We pull back, and I kiss his scar, kissing up the jagged skin and across the sapphire until I reach the top of the scar at his brow.

“Perfect” I whisper softly and he smirks at me, even as his eye holds the vulnerability of his heart.

My breathing stutters as the Prince smirks, sinking down onto his knees and leaning forward, his face level with my bare cunt. I hesitate, thighs clenching and I feel the heat travel up my neck as he chuckles, enjoying the utter confusion and worry marring my face.

“My Prince, what are you doing?” I ask unsurely, my throat clogging as I watch him settle, hands rubbing up and down my thighs to ease me.

“Trust me, sweet girl” He purrs, eye shining like the stone on the other side “You are going to enjoy this. Just relax.” He ushers me back, and I lean on my hands with bated breath as he slowly inches my thighs apart, revealing me completely to him.

I blush as he groans, growling with approval as he takes in my wet cunt and I bite my lip at how delighted he seems.

What was he doing?

“So pretty” He croons softly, his head dropping to kiss up my thighs and my entire body tenses and scorches as he gets closer to the peak of my thighs.

“My Prince, what-“

I moan out, my body shuddering as his tongue flicks out and licks a brazen stroke up the length of my core.

I don’t have time to comprehend or question him, not as he hums in praise before his head dives back in between my thighs, his tongue now flicking sure and steady against a particularly pleasurable spot.

“Oh, My Prince” I moan, eyes fluttering at that ember that sparks in more core, my hands falling to curl into his hair as he holds strong hands around my thighs, fingers digging into the flesh to keep my writhing body still.

I can’t help the gasps and whines that escape me, can't help how my head falls back and my back arches as he keeps his lips close around that bud, his mouth sucking and tongue lapping against me with reverence and need.

“Fuck, you taste like sin” He praises, pulling back with wet lips and a feral grin. I’m choking back a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue against me faster, his own moans of pleasure reverberating through me and making my toes curl.

His right-hand slips free of my thigh, his fingers coming to my core and I feel him gather the wetness there, his tongue still lapping at me, more leisurely now. I huff at the feeling of one of his long, thick fingers prodding me and I groan at the sudden pressure and stretch of his finger sinking inside of me deep.

“Shit, shit” I cry, hands clenching into the sheets at my side as he drags that finger in and out of me, matching the pace of his tongue.

I feel an unfamiliar coiling in my core, feel that brazen fire fanning and igniting and I can barely think as it builds.

“Aemond, I don’t, gods I don’t know-“

He groans, slipping in another finger and I cry out at the stretch, at that burn, and yet that fire still dwells within me.

Prince Aemond must recognise my body's reactions, recognise how I was falling apart as in tandem, his tongue laps harshly against me as his fingers rock into me with speed and severity and it’s not long before I’m breaking apart.

“Aemond” I scream, crying out as the tether within me snaps, that familiar burn of orgasm rutting through me, though this was far more intense far more all-consuming as my core began to pulsate and my thighs shook from exertion.

He hums again, popping off with wetness from me and slipping free his fingers as I pant, my body still shaking from the aftermath of his ministrations.

He smiles as he raises up, kissing my lips with my wetness still on him, and my body thrums with thrill and embarrassment as I taste my sweetness against his mouth.

“Mmm, I think I could feast between your pretty thighs for the rest of my life, My Lady” He purred, hands running up my body to cup my plump breasts.

I blush, moaning at the feel of his fingers squeezing my taut nipples and I’m already desperate for more.

I kiss him, slower and steadier, enjoying how expertly his tongue moved against mine, how sure and ready he was as he guided me through it, as his hands still played with my sore breasts. I don’t hesitate to run my hands down his chest, tugging at the buckles with ire.

“You’re wearing too many clothes” I pout, annoyance filling me at my bareness and his lack of it.

“Indeed, My Lady” He chuckles, smirking at my frown and he kisses my cheek and whispers “Why don’t you help me get out of them?”

I grin, all too eager to help and my slightly shaky hands move forwards, unclipping the hooks and buckles that secure the leathers to his broad chest. I see the first peak of his pale skin underneath and I feel my body tighten as I move the material off his shoulders and down his back.

His body was chiselled and strong, his chest broad and muscled and his stomach lightly rippled with hardness. I can't help but stare, can't help the wetness that gathered between my thighs again at how perfectly built he was.

I flushed, ducking my head at the smirk he throws my way, his laugh flittering to me at the admiration and awe across my face and I sigh at the chaste and loving kiss he presses to my lips.

I exhale harshly as my tentative hands run across his hard chest and down the smoothness of his stomach and stop, my eyes wide in question, as I reach the band of his breeches.

“You may have me in whatever way you wish, My Lady” He mutters, his eye dark in anticipation, even his sapphire seemed to glisten with want.

I bite my lip, and with as much steadiness as I can muster, I unlace the breeches and slowly pull down the material. I gasp as his length slides out, hard and strong as it hits up and against his navel. I remain silent, marvelling at his size and girth, even as heat presses up my neck and cheeks.

I look up at Aemond, but his face is passive and patient and he waits for me to decide what happens next.

“May I…” I pause, biting my cheek as I look meekly at him “May I touch you?”

He smiles, soft and tender and the firm nod he gives me is enough for me to relax and move my hand forward.

He hisses in a sharp breath as my fingers curve around his length and I immediately stop.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask, frowning, worry coating my face.

“No, no,” He says lowly, teeth-gritting “It’s just sensitive.”

I frown, moving back to look down and I experimentally wrap my grip further around him, feeling his body tense and shake as I slowly move my hand up and down his hardness. I see pearls of white gathered at the tip, and I cock my head as I brush a thumb against it in curiosity.

“Gods” Aemond groans, moaning lightly and my nipples tighten in response to the sound.

I revel in his gasped breaths and quiet moans and I feel my confidence come in as my grip tightens and I move my hand up and down in surer, firmer strokes. Aemond grunts, eye shuttering and I frown when his hand comes to stop my movements.

“Was I doing it wrong?” I ask unsurely and his face drops into surprise, his hand coming to cup my jaw.

“Not at all, My Lady” He laughs, his eye dark “But if you continue like that I will not last long.” I bite my lip, my cheeks tinting at the insinuation behind the words and I nod timidly, feeling his hot breath against me as he huffs in amusement.

His lips meet mine again and I’m melting into him as he moves, standing and together, lips still connected we move back further up the bed and lay, my head against the pillows as he leans atop me.

“Are you sure that you wish to continue?” He asks, eye glancing worried at my scar but I hadn’t felt even a twinge of pain.

“I am sure, My Prince,” I say softly, kissing his lips, “Take me, please.”

He groans at my desperate words and it's not long before he is kissing me again, lips moving passionately and greedily against mine as he lowers his body and shifts. I moan as his tip runs up and down the length of my core, gathering the utter wetness there as he is still at my entrance.

I exhale shakily, preparing myself for the pain that I’d heard rumours of.

His eye softens in understanding and he presses a sweet kiss against my cheek as he lines himself up.

“I will try to push all the way in, once I do it will be easier” he whispers, his lips brushing my cheek in reassurance “If you cannot handle it, tell me and I will pull out.”

I nod, my hand cupping his jaw and running comfortingly over the scar there and he smiles softly.

I whine as he pushes in, first at the pressure of it but then the further in he goes the more pain that erupts inside me. I cry out at that endless ache that fills me as he slowly inches further in, gritting his teeth as he does so.

Tears prick my eyes and my body is alight with pain, feeling cleaved in two as he rips through my maidenhead. I gasp, burying my head in his shoulder as he sinks in the last few inches, his hips now brushing mine and halts.

I gasped, crying slightly as he pulls back, his pants hot and steady against me.

“You’re doing so well, sweet girl” He whispers, kissing my hot tears, and his hand cups and plays with my breast, mixing pleasure in with the pain that was now starting to dull.

I look up at him through my foggy gaze and as I shift my hips experimentally, that ache still burning through me I cringe. Aemond looks near exploding but still for my sake he controls himself, even as his body shakes from restraint.

“Move, My Prince” I whisper hoarsely, shifting my hips and moaning slightly “I need you to move”

He nods, gritting his teeth and with deliberate slowness, he pulls out inch by inch, allowing me to accommodate him as he pulls to the tip. I whine as he pushes back in, a bit faster and sinks in a little deeper than before, my back arching at the pressure.

I moan as his head dips, lips wrapping around a nipple as he sucks and bites the sensitive flesh and his hips move against me, rocking in deep and sturdy.

I feel the pain slowly fade away, the first embers of pleasure crawling in as he nudges against a sore spot, one that has my eyes fluttering and my breath quickening.

“That’s it” He praises, moaning low in his throat as he moves against me faster “Feel how good you fit around my cock, My Lady.”

I whimper at the filthy words, my hands clawing onto his shoulders as he fucks in and out of me, brushing against my walls so perfectly that I can scarcely hold in my moans or stop my body from arching and shaking.

“Aemond” I cry, nails digging into his skin as he bites at the column of my throat “More, more, please”

My begging is heard as Aemond, moves my legs and I wrap them around his waist, nearly sobbing as he sinks in further and at a different angle, the feeling so overwhelming that whines of his name are all that escape me.

“Oh fuck, I am not going to last long” He growls, fondling my breast and watching my contorted and breathless face as I rock against him.

That all-consuming pleasure builds in my core again and my body begins to thrash and my moans increase as it hits me fast and hard and damning.

“Just like that” Aemond rasps, capturing my lips and I feel his own body begin to stutter.

I cry out, my core erupting and my body writhing and arching as yet again I come, shattering and splintering with Aemond’s name a prayer on my lips. I clench repeatedly, palpitating and Aemond groans, growling as he rocks against me faster, and I cry as he juts up brutally, feeling his body begin to stutter.

He moans, low and guttural against my ear and my body lights as his hot seed leaks into me settling, and I shudder at the aftermath of pleasure that still courses through my blood and veins.

Aemond’s pants are exerted and breathless as he lifts up before me, his face inches from mine and that sapphire shines with unparallel beauty.

I smile gently, lifting my hand to his face, our sticky bodies melting together as the silence and darkness of the night settle in around us.

Aemond presses a kiss to my cheek, pulling out ever so gently from me and he leans in to kiss fully against my lips. I grin, laughing slightly as I kiss him back, my heart so full that it was close to exploding.

I bite my lip as he pulls back, and I cannot stop myself from clasping his jaw, looking deep into his gorgeous and sparkling blue eye.

“My Prince?” I say softly.

“Yes, My Y/N” He replies, smirking mischievously as he brushes his mouth along my neck and jaw.

“Can we go to the Dragon Pit and ride Vhagar tomorrow?” I ask gently and he laughs, the sound a roar of delight, and I grin at how his face creases, his eye lighting with utter joy and amusement.

He chuckles lowly, locking eyes with me as he smirks, and presses a long and lovely kiss to my needy lips.

“We can do whatever you wish, My Lady” He rasps, smiling “It is only you and I forever.”

______________________________________________

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