#[ i was in the mood for ANGST ]

[kusakichan15]

If I can't be close to you... I'll settle for the ghost of you... I miss you more than life...

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Luke got his first guitar when he was seven years old. His ADHD therapist had recommended that he pick up a hobby as a fixation to redirect all his energy instead of doing something that could potentially harm him. Emily and Mitch had tried a lot of things at first. Cooking, drawing, basketball, running, everything that a seven year old would find interesting. But, as soon as Luke got his first guitar from his parents, he knew he had found his passion.

Emily and Mitch thought it was his fixation. Luke knew that music was the love of his life.

Two years into playing everyday, trying to practice chords from his favourite songs, and making new riffs just to see if he could make a decent song. He could, for a nine year old. His love for music was also how he met his best friends, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby. The Patersons had assumed that the boys had bonded over their hobby of creating music, or just playing covers of songs they liked. They never realised how much more important music was to them than they let it show.

Mitch and Emily did not seem to have a problem with the guitar and the lyrics and the music going on constantly. As long as Luke didn’t do anything that could harm him, they were fine. And when, at twelve, Luke started talking about making a career for himself in music, he started talking about being the best Rock band to ever exist, Emily and Mitch didn’t pay much attention at that time either.

But then, Luke got into high school, and he still spoke about creating music as a career for himself, and he still practised more with his band than doing homework or studying, and the Patterson couple couldn’t ignore it anymore. They knew that their son was very much serious about his choices.

So, they tried to explain it to him gently at first. Tried to tell him all the cons of being a musician. Instability in finance, no privacy, constant pressure, ‘all or nothing’ mentality, and the list went on and on and on. But Luke kept repeating to them, day after day, night after night, “I’ll do all of the bad stuff if it means that I can feel connected to the rest of the world through music. I’ll do all of it if I could just make people feel understood and valid, and alive.”

And Mitch would always just say, “That’s not your job, Luke. Leave it for someone else. You should focus on being able to provide for yourself and your family.”

And it went for months, and those months turned into years, and their gentle explanations turned to screaming and taunting and making comments about his choices. In the start, Luke would escape to Alex’s house, or Reggie’s, or Bobby’s. They’d never ask him to explain, and just cuddle with him and pretend not to notice when he cried, because they knew Luke would tell them when he was ready to.

By the time Luke was sixteen, he felt like he was immune to his parents’ words. It was the same thing over and over, like a broken record, and Luke had lost the will in him to fight his parents, to beg for their support and love. He just sat on the couch and listened as his parents screamed at him from behind.

“The boy never listens to me. He doesn’t understand that he needs to do something productive with his life.” Emily screamed.

“I worked so hard and paid so much money to get you into a good school, Luke, and you’re just going to waste it all away.” Mitch said.

“I mean, at least, think about your future family. No one will want to be a broke so-called rock star who’s scraping through life. Think of how you’ll provide for us when we’re old. Or are you going to make your father work all his life?” Emily yelled at him.

“Honestly, Emily, I think we should start keeping money aside for retirement. We shouldn’t trust him to be able to provide for us, if he won’t be able to provide for himself. We can’t be dependent on him if he’s going to have a very unstable job.” Mitch said.

And with all the screaming and taunts and the words echoing in Luke’s brain, he was surprised when his parents heard him. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he said it before he could stop himself.

“Pay attention to me, please.”

Emily and Mitch turned towards him so fast, but he remained seated on the couch, staring out the window. “What?”

“Pay attention to me, please.” Luke said, louder.

He stood up, turning to his parents, “For once in your life, please, just pay attention to me. Pay attention to what I want to do, and support me and love me for it. Listen to what I’m trying to say. Listen to what my vision, my goal in life is, instead of putting your goals on mine. Listen to what I’m thinking and what I’m trying to plan, keeping everyone in the loop, instead of throwing assumptions about what could be.

Please, just pay attention to the words I’m screaming so quietly at you.”

The Pattersons did not respond well to what Luke had said. Luke ran away for the first time that night, coming back after the police caught him three weeks later. And then at seventeen, he left for good. They never paid attention to him. They never listened to him.

In 2020, after Luke, Reggie, and Alex had become humans, and Julie had told Ray the full truth, Ray had enrolled them in Julie’s school. He had asked the boys to select the courses they would enjoy.

Luke wanted to choose music, and he knew he could, but his parents’s words stopped him. Because, what if they didn’t make it big? What if he was barely above the water? What if he couldn’t take care of Julie, of Alex, of Reggie? What if he failed his family?

Luke chose a programme he would never be happy in.

When he’d given his sheet to Ray, Ray had looked at his selections, and just said, “Are you sure, mijo?”

Luke nodded, though his eyes told a different story. His twisting fingers told a different story. His bouncing feet told a different story.

Ray had nodded, and pulled out his laptop to file it in.

When school had started, and Luke got his schedule, his eyes filled with tears when he saw the classes for the music programme instead of the sucky one he had chosen. Julie had hugged him, and Alex and Reggie wrapped themselves around him without a word. Maybe they knew. Maybe they didn’t. Luke was just happy in that moment.

That night, when Luke got a moment alone with Ray, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Ray knew what he was talking about and he said, “I’ve gotten good at paying attention to silent screams. You can be who you want in this house. No restrictions.”

Luke hugged Ray, sobbing uncontrollably.

Someone finally paid attention to him.

[hinamie]

quick itfs sketch page

[seagull9111]

as a fandom we need to talk about how funny this scene was

romans: *nervous*

nico: *enjoying himself*

[rubyfunkey]

I'm with Anii! I craved for someone acknowledging Narinder's eventual love for mortality!! And I wholeheartedly believe it would take a toll on Lamb one day since they're slowly losing mortality, ironic isn't it?

i havent thought about that angle much but id like to think they could keep each other in check maybe. maybe.

[charlotte-family-apologist]

How bad do you think his deja vu is?

[nothingbizzare]

Living a nightmare

[technically-human]

can you draw Edwin doodling embarrassing shit like ‘Edwin Rowland’ or a little doodle of Charles’s face with hearts around it then Charles comes up behind him like what are you doing?

He had some very specific embarrassing doodles in mind

ko-fi

[theminecraftbee]

today i am thinking about the entire mayor of hypixel skyblock incident with technoblade because i still like to imagine, since it happened during one of the big dsmp story gaps, that he was like "oh i'm going to head off for a bit phil don't worry about it" and phil's like "bye mate" and ranboo is like "i wonder what he's doing. probably intense training or something. he's so cool."

meanwhile techno is yelling at an entirely unruly crowd about anarchy and being made mayor while beating up like, it was a weird giant slime if i remember right? and he has a whole "bond of rivals" moment with squidkid, like, they have this whole "there's no one i could trust to have my back more... than you... my most favored enemy" thing going on in that video it's SO funny.

all of this with the world's most absurd numbers outputs because hypixel skyblock is an endgame mmo. just COMICAL levels of firepower. like, everyone is an end-of-series shonen character. this place is like the naruto world was after it had jumped the shark a bit and there was a moon goddess attacking. about like that.

and then he's like. my work here is done. thanks for electing me mayor. i don't see this is contradictory to my anarchy at all btw it's like, a symbolic thing, on account of me beating up the old dictator mayor. and just dips again, presumably to be forever seen as a weird potato-themed legend around those parts.

i like to imagine he gets home and phil is like "hi mate" and techno's like "sorry i had things to handle at home" and ranboo is imagining like, WILD battles and what technoblade's home must even be like. and whatever he's imagining doesn't really compare to "technoblade's home is an end-game mmo no wonder he constantly assumes he's weak here he can only do earlygame levels of damage, forever".

and technoblade, being technoblade, says nothing about being mayor of hypixel now, until like, after the finale or something when squidkid just sort of swings by to ask how they're all doing after that nuke thing, huh. and everyone loses their shit.

and this is one of my favorite stupid technoblade headcanons thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[minkiverse]

KANG YEOSANG FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Choi San - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

PRETTY PRETTY YEOSANG!!!!! I think there is a reason that so many fics on this list are fluffy and its because Yeosang is the most precious person in existence!!!!!! n e ways everyone send me more Yeosang fic recs i NEED more!~

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Oddeleny - @songmingisthighs ⛈️🍑 Ghost AU ✧ SMAU

the twists are twisting and the turns... oh they are turning ����👏 this series is basically a mystery of how yeosang got trapped in the mc's phone and basically everytime there is a lore drop on either mc, yeo, or woo i go a little bit more crazy 🤪🤪

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES/ETC

winter blossom - @atzfilm 🔥⛈️ Alien AU

Stretch you out - @pyramid-of-starrs 🔥 Gym AU

quiet - @nebulousbrainsoup 🔥💗

Relax - @moonhoures 🔥💗

masturbation - @kitten4sannie 🔥 College AU

gemini - @ncteez 🔥💗 Virgin!Yeosang

untitled - @bandgie 🔥

kang yeosang as your boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

untitled - @kittyyeo 🔥

lessons in intimacy - @honeyhotteoks ✨🔥Camboy AU ✧ Barista AU

i revisit this fic once a month AT LEAST! this author's way of writing blows me away every single time 😮‍💨😮‍💨 the smut is toe curling and so intimate (hence the title) its just how kind and genuine both yeosang and the mc are written and how they communicate and the smut that constantly bring me back 🥹🥹

Only text me when you need me - @pyramid-of-starrs 🔥💗⛈️ FWB AU

pretty in pink - @byuntrash101 🔥

sensitive - @puddingyun ✨🔥

i just love how atiny tend to write yeosang so softly and intimately because he is just so precious and needs a "handle with care" sticker on him at all times and this fic epitomizes that feeling 🤤🤤 like how gently the mc treats him is just 🤌🤌

hungry yeoyeo - @ateezscupid 🔥

Longing - @sxcret-garden 🔥💗

vanilla and cream - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

operation: passenger princess - @sungbeam 💗⛈️ College AU

fortune teller - @seonghwaddict 💗

A Small Adjustment - @kitten4sannie 🔥Personal Trainer AU

yeosang & a situationship - @yunhoszn 🍑

[7:29 PM] - @edenesth 💗

boyfriend texts w/ yeosang - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

Stay - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗⛈️ Royalty AU ✧ Archer!Yeosang

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥Dragon AU

Muse - @desirehorizon 🔥💗Royalty AU ✧ Prince!Yeosang

Wash It All Away - @ja3hwa 🔥💗⛈️ Idol AU

Evolve - @nebulousbrainsoup ✨🔥💗⛈️ Ateez Lore ✧ Biker!Yeosang

even though i can't say i fully understand ateez's lore, i love any fic that is based around it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what i do know of it is so compelling and interesting im shocked that i dont see or at least have not found yet more lore based fics 😭😭 BUT THIS ONE☝️☝️ is sooooo good!!!! i love how yeosang is still yeosang even in his situation, i love how the mc is like immediately intrigued by this faceless biker guy who can blame her 😩😩, i love how they get to know each other and THE SMUT 😮‍💨😮‍💨

untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

[2aceofspades]

TW: Blood/Injury, Implied Death

_______________________________________________

With you

Lil one-shot I guess...??

_______________________________________________

After the dust cleared, it was dead silent. The air was thick with moisture from the dark clouds looming above them all. Someone, probably Raphael, yelled out something Two didn't quite process, his ears still ringing as his vision slowly cleared.

A faint blue glow flickered in the near distance, not too far from where Two was slumped on the ground. More muffled shouts rang out as Two attempted to collect himself, staggering to his feet and trudging over to the source of-

No.

Just the image alone was enough to bring Two collapsing back to his knees. Stupid, he thought.

"H-hey..." One's weak voice just barely got through to Two, snapping him right out of his thoughts.

He stared down at the dimming blue glow, watching it flicker and fade in and out. How the hell are you still here, breathing?

His thoughts became flooded in his head, even more so as he felt his arms cradle his brother's near-lifeless body.

"Did we win?"

Two felt his jaw clench at One's question, feeling frighteningly close to grinding his teeth until they were flat.

Did we win?

The question echoed in Two’s head, as if that would better help him process this moment. In any other instance, he would have deflected and scoffed at such an empty, meaningless question. Did it matter? he thought as he titled his head up, looking around briefly at the wasteland that surrounded them. It was over, that much was apparent.

"Yes,” he huffed, looking down at his brother in his arms as he continued, “Now, shut it and save your strength. Your heart-"

"I know," One croaked out in between a few sputtering breaths, interrupting Two in more ways than one. Two tried to ignore the cast-off of blood coming from his brother's mouth, despising the sickening feeling settling in his stomach as it hit his chin. One smiled weakly up at his brother, his eyes dull and unfocused.

How dare you, Two thought to himself.

His eyes flickered from One's exposed heart, bleeding out and hardly beating, and back to his brother’s face. His brother looked beaten, bloody...broken. It wasn't a look he saw from him often, if at all. It was that damn smile that he watched waver as One's heart beat softer and softer. What cruel irony, Two couldn't help but think, a metaphorical expression brought to life by his stupid, thoughtless, idiotic brother.

Two could still fix this. Even as he held his brother tighter against his own plastron and felt his shirt get soaked by the horrid mix of blood and empyrean; he thought to himself how he'd be the one to fix this.

There was no other choice left.

“Good…” One let out the softest of chuckles, “…we…we can s-start over.”

Something in Two’s own chest faltered, even just briefly. It was enough to shut out the feeling of One’s pathetic coughs and wheezes against him. He watched how One's eyes dulled further, his gaze wandering away from Two's face.

Starting over? That wasn’t ever an option, not one that Two had ever weighed in his mind. He wasn’t sure if that was even an option now. After everything he had done, everything he sacrificed, worked for…his brother still wanted to burn it, bury everything down and out of Two’s reach. One wanted this win, he wanted the impossible.

“Impossible…” Two muttered under his breath.

He heard yet another faint chuckle. And then the dense silence that followed.

_______________________________________________

~bonus doodles~

(':

[wispscribbles]

i bring u... angst

[maomango-doodle]

Jazz puns, am I right?

Some random doodles

[hinamie]

spiraling

[cheesecakethots]

i LIVE for the angst of a yandere initially being fucking awful to their darling after taking them, and overtime changing and becoming more loving, as well has having newfound and immense regret for what they’ve done. it is literally my fave yan scenario.

tw // pretty heavy angst, mentions of noncon

i specifically imagine it for shigaraki, going from being this disgusting manbaby who treats his darling like they’re nothing but a toy for him to use, only to later realise how much he loves them and mature in how he treats them, making his regret for the past even stronger.

him trying to coax his darling into coming out on a date with him - they can go anywhere, he doesn’t mind, darling has free reign to choose what they do. he tries to be so soft and quiet in his tone, as though not to startle them.

it’s only when tears start forming in their eyes and they mumble, “have i been bad?” that he realises how badly his past self fucked up.

the only other time he really took them out was when he’d decided they needed a punishment, and had made them stand and watch as he disintegrated the first group of people they saw out. he had then fucked them against the alleyway wall, bodies still around them both, just to really get the point across.

he wishes he could take back everything, but he can’t. as of now, he needs to take baby steps in order to bring you out of the very same hole he once caved into your mind.

(i love regretful yans urm send me some thots about them pretty please)

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Part Two

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Part One

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+ ONLY! Aemond is conflicted, bad language, some religious guilt if you really squint, some fingering wooop, tension, orgasm denial, inconsistent writing my bad, Aemond's response and defence mechanisms are to fake hatred, this man hates feelings, allusions to sex, allusions to death and killing, again Aemond is angry handsy, a bitch gets slapped bc sometimes violence IS the answer. unedited (shock).

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: look, I know y'all were hoping for an update on Dark Cherry instead but hey, this one happened along first! I have been swamped with work at my new job (LOVE) and an exam that's in two days sooooo this is my apology for the delay in updates for both fics! Lmk your thoughts & ideas - inbox is always open to chat my loves

xoxo kisses!! <3

Masterlist

Weeks had passed and Aemond had been acting as if you were nonexistent. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he couldn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what you were you doing here and why are you here if no formal arrangements to be wed have been made as was promised?

Truth be told, Aemond was having second thoughts. He had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Aemond certainly would not stand for it but here you were, waiting outside of his own chambers with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 

Without saying a word, Aemond stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 

“I was supposed to become your wife last week,” You avoided letting your anger at being strung along seep into your tone. “Instead, you have imprisoned me within the walls of the Keep and avoid me like I am some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to visit the town yesterday. Your kingsguard stopped me from leaving. Said you told them that I am not to exit the grounds.”

Aemond was calm. “That is exactly what I told them.”

“You said I could visit home when I please.”

A shrug that had his pin-straight hair dancing softly. “I lied.”

“Well,” you glared at him, staring him down with as much contempt as you could muster. “You best start telling the truth-”

“Do not,” Aemond’s spat, a departure from his usual slow and commanding drawl. You wondered whether he resented you such that he wouldn’t be able to reign back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I have warned you that I will not tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”

Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Aemond barely flinched more than the slight turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the satisfying mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You have me brought here as a bargaining tool for my family’s lives. To force me into wedding you. And now that I am here and we are betrothed, you refuse to do so. Is there honour to your word or are we all to face execution instead?”

You had caught the side of his bad eye and a dull ache pulsed behind his eyepatch. He all but growled, grasping your wrists tightly in his hands and hunching over you, casting a dark shadow across your face. 

Aemond was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he held over you - over everyone. He may be the current ruler of Westeros to its citizens but the two of you had spent some moments of your childhood together and you knew what kind of man he was past the charade of coldness and stoicism. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 

He knew that he shouldn’t take your behaviour lightly - that were it anyone else, he’d have dished it right back. But admittedly or not, you had caught Aemond off guard. He wasn’t expecting you to have the gall to hit him. 

Part of him–he would never, ever entertain the fact that it was actually most of him–enjoyed it. Your inability to control yourself and your emotions around him was entirely satisfying. And Aemond loved to watch how you cowered in fear at the realisation of your actions and that he was at all liberty to decide on their consequences. 

All the while, and you couldn’t help but think he looked terrifyingly handsome in his anger, though the right corner of his lips upturned gently. “You should appreciate the generosity I have shown you. I hardly understand how you are making a problem out of this.”

“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

Aemond’s expression was blank, the strands of hair that had come loose at the swipe of your hand on his cheek casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The leather of his meticulously tailored tunic brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into his chambers with a strong push that had you stumbling inside.

“Since you’re so ungrateful, I will show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Aemond spoke with a slow, rumbling tone. “You are not to leave without my permission. Try to run away and I will have you punished.”

And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 

How dare he? 

Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the gardens and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Red Keep was a luxury far beyond what you were used to but the feeling of confinement ate you alive. 

This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho and your father. So why did Aemond have so much rage for you? 

If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the dungeons or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the Prince Regent.   

-

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no marriage that could possibly fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  

So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last weeks with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Aemond.

Jericho had said you were only a part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Aemond had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as he had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was that Aemond needed him to do free of question. 

The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Merylle, the maid who had been assigned to you much to your surprise, didn’t bother knocking before stepping inside with her arms full of–gowns?

“The Prince Regent wishes for me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the feast we are hosting tonight.” 

A feast? While we were all at war? 

A message. 

You eyed the gown that Merylle laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the others that she held. From what you could see of the gown, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear.

“I am truly to wear this?”

The look she gave was answer enough. “I will run you a bath first. And then I shall help you into the dress.”

You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Merylle was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching night dress that had been laid out with the dress - if you could call it that - and you scoffed at the idea of wearing it. 

Did all the other women at court have negligee to match their day clothes? 

Clutching the towel to your chest, you ignored the smallclothes that were also laid out. You were already sweating from stress. Before Merylle could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own hair. 

Merylle pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, my Lady.”

“Please, you do not need to address me formally,” you corrected. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Fuck. 

The gown was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green silk gown which cinched at your waist before falling loosely yet gracefully from your hips. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly, a square neckline that left your collarbones and neck bare. It made you feel sultry in an entirely new way - it seemed as if it were seamless, flowing down and clinging to your skin at specific places to highlight each curve and dip of your body.

This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Aemond had intended it to be. Merylle fastened a jewelled chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me there?”

And where the hell was he?

“I am merely a housekeeper,” Merylle spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”

It almost made you laugh at the thought that he had effectively banished himself to some other part of the Keep in his stubbornness. 

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“I’ll leave you for now. The prince will escort you downstairs when he is ready for you.” 

And just like that, you were locked alone once more.

Aemond was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from his chambers and show you to the banquet hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the infuriating, heated effect he had on you. 

He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.

Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Aemond was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in matching emerald silk that was tailored to every curve of his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty, strength and temptation. 

Aemond’s gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. He slowly dragged his violet eye up and down your body twice, swallowing and clenching his jaw as he turned away. “Let’s go.”

Gods. Aemond was raised a man of piety and honour but you were a tempting little thing and the urge to ravish you in that dress he had chosen for you–the dress which only seemed to multiply your beauty tenfold–was impossible to ignore. He was no prude but he felt that he deserved penance for the sinful thoughts of you that plagued his mind. 

And as you gazed up at him, innocently and unaware of all the ways he longed to defile you and unaware of his hardness straining against the fabric of his breeches, Aemond cursed himself for his doubts about marrying you. 

Aemond cursed himself to damnation for being too weak to admit that he yearned for you. Cursed himself because he wished to be yours and for you to be his but he would never be strong enough to live up to being good for you.  

He would forever fear the disappointment in a woman’s gaze–as his mother had always looked at him, the perception that he was unworthy of reverence and the truth that he will never be enough. Because all that Aemond ever seems to do is let people down when he is trying his best and being in love with the daughter of a treasonous lord was a vile predicament. 

The Dowager Queen had already told him so. She knew that the smallfolk and lords and ladies alike thought of her second son as a vicious man. But she had only agreed to the betrothal as a means to show the people that her family will always land on top. That you will be living out the rest of your life in the bed of such a man whose House and name your blood has betrayed. In the palm of the Crown. 

To show them that they have control over everyone somehow. That they were to be respected lest such traitors wanted to subject their loved ones to their reparations. 

Aemond stiffened at his thoughts. He couldn’t be in love with you. He had hardly known you truly. Above all, Aemond was sure that he would never be capable of giving nor receiving something so unattainable as love. 

Did he not resent you so? He rolled his eye. One nice dress was all it took for him to fall victim to such idiocies. Perhaps he was no different to the other men of these halls. 

“Am I-Am I to accompany you as your betrothed?” You still didn’t understand. 

“You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”

You took a moment to think about his words. 

I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Aemond. “Let us go then.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Aemond’s hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 

“Follow me.”

Aemond had left your side before entering. The main hall was alive with people, many of whom you recognised from your limited days in court as a young girl. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Crown. You were not but you had the same blood as one. 

The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 

Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 

It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Aemond had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 

“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”

“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”

Your father cleared his throat loudly. “Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Prince Aemond has been generous.”

Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 

“Yes. I suppose I have been alright.”

You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one cup of wine and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 

Slipping your cup onto a tray that one of the servants were carrying, you smiled at Floris Baratheon who spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Aemond and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 

She was only embarrassing herself, you thought. Aemond had put an end to that so that he could play out this game. Yet she still tried. Not that you cared, right? 

You glanced towards the corridor. Aemond seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 

A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, bumping into you and forcing a hesitant greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 

By the time you were at the doors, Aemond was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The hallway was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 

You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way to where your parents would pass and stay with them. It would work and you’d at least be out beyond this wing of the keep until you inevitably returned. Or you could see Jericho, and then you could convince them and disappear somehow. Jericho might even help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 

The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Aemond smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into the side of his betrothed. 

You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Aemond was both skilled and strong and how far would you even get before he or a kingsguard caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 

Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Aemond’s leathery, musky scent and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 

Shit. 

Aemond pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “I recall telling you not to run away, little mouse.” 

Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Aemond had brought you into a closet which was actually the size of your chambers back home but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 

“And what? Will you have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 

Aemond turned you and pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I do not like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”

You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I am not something you own, Aemond. I don’t have to heed you.”

“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in this Realm where I could not hunt you down myself and you would be back here within a moon.” Aemond could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. He hummed in mock thoughtfulness. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”

There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the boy Aemond Targaryen you had known all those years ago, who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 

“What did I ever do to you, My Prince?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

Aemond stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that a small part of him now hates that he is making you cry but years ago, the entirety of him would have despised himself for it. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s acquaintance who had no patience for you. Jericho’s acquaintance who never had the perfect family that you had, never had the love that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 

He never had you. 

And Aemond might have hated you for it. 

“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”

Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I did not know. You were so cruel to me, My Prince, whatever little time we were together.”

Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 

“You want to know why I am doing this to you?” Aemond brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”

A lie. But you need not know. You swallowed deeply and were he not touching you in such a way, you would have recognised the pit of dejection in your gut. But you could only think of his hands. 

His hands, his hands. 

They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Aemond was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 

He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”

Another gasp and you arched into him. Aemond’s words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After it all, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 

The air was thick and Aemond thought he’d choke on the concoction of lust, heat, anger and fear that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think of all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 

“So tempting all the time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this? How I should have done sooner and make your bewitching body mine?”

You let out a wanton moan as his soft lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I do not know-”

“Of course you do not know.” Aemond let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of clothing under the dress–what an enticing, oblivious girl you were–and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would let me. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little Lady. Tell me.”

The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent currents through you, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 

You were blind with need for Aemond’s body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d do to you. The voice of reason at the back of your head told you to slow down, that it would ruin you and you would never be able to undo it. 

If you gave Aemond your maidenhead here, and you managed to break free of this damned situation, you would be impure and left with no prospects of security. But all of that would be lost anyway. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from burning in the heat of his body against yours, the hardened silhouette of Aemond’s cock against your back and the feeling of his palm cupping your womanhood ridding you of your ability to think. 

“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 

Aemond tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing further against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I am going to have you have you, ñuha dāria, it will be in the comforts of our marriage. Where I can take you in every way I have spent hours dreaming about.”

You had never met a more confusing, conflicted man than Prince Aemond Targaryen. Against your better judgment, you drawled, “You said you hate me-”

“I do hate you,” Aemond growled again, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Does not mean that I do not want to fuck you.”

You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his breeches. But Aemond was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the purposeful movements of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit sending thrums of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 

Aemond was not a wildly experienced lover. And he didn’t usually take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely foreign way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.

“Please, My Prince–I am so close,” you whined at the build up of your orgasm, recognising the intensified version of the white hot throb and the sensitivity which you felt whenever you touched yourself alone in your bed. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.

There were people looking for him, Aemond could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That is enough for now. It seems that they are looking for me.”

You turned yourself around, still squashed between Aemond and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupil blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh.

You resisted the urge to smack him again. “You jest, surely.”

Aemond stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 

How he longed to corrupt you. 

“Collect yourself. I shall send Merylle to get you to our chambers,” Aemond was at the door by now, fixing his belt to alleviate the discomfort of his arousal as his fervent gaze was focused on you. Our chambers. It was a slip of his tongue. “If you ever try such a stupid thing again, I will not be so lenient.”

With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 

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tags; @toodlesxcuddles @tredegarwitch @blackravena