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zepskies · 5 months ago

Text

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter.

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.”

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

▶️ Keep Reading: Green

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Series Tag List (Part 1):

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lenny-link · 5 months ago

Note

In regards to the SU x TF2 AU:

I have been racking my brain over here trying to understand the decision to make RED Spy a ruby and BLU Spy a sapphire. Nothing about his portrayal seemed to line up with canon depictions of rubies or sapphires, and RED Spy's gem isn't even faceted like a ruby. Also the obvious joke of making him a Bixbite, like the corrupted gem who was a giant crab, seemed obvious. Then it dawned on me.

He's a color-change sapphire, isn't he? That's why his RED version has a sapphire cut despite supposedly being a ruby? And also potentially why he's the only one we've seen RED and BLU variations of (though I get the impression that's also so one can be paired with Scout's Ma and the other with Engie) when all the others have been RED(-ish) isn't it? Or am I completely off base with this theory?

i LOVE your theory i wish you shared your thoughts before i elaborated the ‘lore’ of the au

but since ive had lots of questions about details id like to mention that:

1. i originally had not planned to make any story behind the su au, so if there’s things that dont make sense, don’t align with canon and stuff, it was not planned soo im working with what i have :p

2. i was hoping no one notices the mistake i made of swapping the gems ruby/sapphire lol its because at first i had drawn Blu(sapphire) Spy in that page, but i thought it was confusing since there was RedSpy x Scout’sMa and Scout next to him, so i just changed the colors and i didnt change the gem bc i was lazy :P

3. the main reason i put both Blu/Red Spy was to create fusion, i thought to add an extra merc with a blu color would be cool for the fusions that isnt from ClassicTeam, and idk i couldn’t think of a better merc to have as a pair than Spy and i thought there is more potential with 2 Spies to work on a story than any other merc idk

(yes i didnt put garnet as the fusion so as not to make confusion with Demoman being a Garnet, and we don’t have an Amethyst anyways so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

4. it is IMPOSSIBLE to align each TF2 character with a SU character, there’s nothing in common between the two medias whatsoever, so the dynamics that im gonna be making for the TF2 au are gonna be a bit mixed, for example: RedSpy and BluSpy having Ruby/Sapphire’s dynamic (kinda), but also they have the same dynamic as Rose/Pearl, for the part where Red would go with a human (Scout’s Ma) and Blu would be jealous (just like pearl), HeavyMedic also would be having Ruby/Sapphire dynamic (the part where they fuse for the first time just like Ruby/Sapphire in the show, im still working on comic about this btw)

5. also im mixing with well TF2 canon story + trying really to make an original story too, soo its a whole mess ik :p im trying just bear with me ^^"

but thank you for pointing that out, it makes me happy knowing people actually pay attention to details thats super fun! ill make sure to not miss any details next time! :D

#tf2 x su au #my art #tf2 #team fortress 2 #lennylink #tf2 spy #fan art #lenny replied #scout ma #tf2 scouts mom #tf2 scout's mom #spy x spy #spycest #tf2 medic #doctor who reference #lol

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heartzfromel · 22 days ago

Text

undercover

detective!agnes x fem!model!reader

summary; agnes has a bit of trouble in the makeup department. tony is useless, and rio is busy. luckily, miss texas is bored out of her mind in the room next door, and just so happens to be looking for something to do.

tags; queer awakening question mark, age gap but nothing overly crazy

a/n; jen mentioned who cheered, fyi reader doesn’t know she’s queer, also its the 90s so take that as u will, ignore any mistakes

chapter 1 | chapter 2

your stylist, jen, glared daggers into the back of marvin’s head as he paced around the room, answering several phone calls per minute and overall just distracting her from her work, which just so happened to be your hair.

“does he ever stop that?” she mumbled, leaning over your shoulder to grab hairspray.

“i don’t know,” you whispered back, “sometimes i think he’s a robot who got sent to spy on me by my father.”

“wouldn’t put it past him,” jen smirked, combing her fingers through your hair as she fluffed it up, “et voila! all done.”

“thank you kindly jen, your’e a lifesaver.” you grinned, showing her out.

once jen had left, you pushed your door closed and threw yourself onto your bed, rolling over to turn the cd player on, before closing your eyes, basking in your moment of silence.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

“what?” agnes deadpanned.

“we don’t have anyone to do your makeup.” tony mumbled, repeating himself.

“are you joking?” she spat.

“no…” he began, “we sorta thought you’d be able to do that yourself.”

“tony.”

“yeah?” he replied terror evident in his expression. he loved agnes dearly, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she was possibly the most terrifying woman to walk on planet earth.

“do i look like the sort of person who would know how to do my own makeup?”

tomy paused. now that he thought about it, he had never in his life witnessed agnes in a dress, nevermind makeup.

“get out.” she spat.

“huh?”

“get out! is that so hard for you to grasp, tony? i said GET OUT.”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

you groaned, the sound of a woman yelling filling your ears as you tried to get 20 minutes of sleep. now normally, you would’ve just got annoyed but left the situation alone, but this girl sounded MAD, and you were bored out of your mind by now, so you decided to go investigate.

when you left your hotel room, you realised that the yelling was coming from the room next door. huh, these walls must be thick, you thought to yourself, because the yelling sounded like it had been coming from somewhere a lot further down the hall.

the pristine white door lay wide open, and a man with dark hair was anxiously listening to the woman’s angry voice, before she yelled at him to get out.

before she slammed the door, you caught her.

“hey, everything alright out here?” you asked, shooting her a smile. this was the first time you had gotten a look at her, and quite frankly, you thought she was ethereal. her long dark hair tumbled effortlessly down her shoulders, stopping at her hips, and her skin was glowing, despite the obvious stress she was under. her eyes were piercing and as blue as sapphires, and she was in nothing but a plush white dressing gown.

“oh everything’s fine, hon!” she grinned back, giggling slightly, as she leaned on the doorframe.

“you sure? didn’t sound like it a second ago.” you replied, curiosity getting the better of you.

“well, that was my agent.” she began, “he just came to tell me my makeup artist couldn’t make it on this trip, she had to cancel.”

“oh, well that’s terrible! do you think you can do it yourself?”

“sure! i’ll be fine!” she reassured you, but something in her voice just wasn’t quite right.

“you don’t sound so sure. here, let me come in and help you out.” you offered.

she looked taken aback to say the least, and you were almost worried you had overstepped. that tended to happen with the other pageant girls. you had a really hard time getting them to like you. marvin told you they were just jealous, because after the pageants were over, you had a dozen magazines and perfume shoots booked, but you weren’t so sure, so whenever someone showed any sort of interest in interacting with you, you would jump at the chance, and sometimes you could be a bit much.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in as she stepped out of the way of the doorframe to let you in.

you smiled, and she smiled gratefully back at you as you ushered her to the chair that sat in front of her vanity.

“you got any makeup with you?” you asked.

“i’m afraid i’ve only got this.” she replied, ruffling through her bag, before holding up two bottles, foundation and concealer, looking at them as if she wasn’t fully aware of what they were.

“wait one second.” you grinned, before running back to your room, grabbing your bag and rushing back to the woman’s room.

“i got stuff!” you spoke, excitedly, laying various makeup products out on the vanity.

“oh, thank you doll, you’re a lifesaver.” she sighed, the nickname sending a shockwave through you as it slipped from her lips.

“so- uh, what’s your name, anyway?” you mumbled, trying to brush whatever that feeling was as you kneeled down to her level, pinning her hair out of her face.

“agatha harkness, you?”

“y/n y/l/n.”

“that’s pretty.” she sighed, closing her eyes as you began to apply her foundation to her face.

as you continued to do her makeup, your knees began to get tired, causing you to have to stretch them out every few minutes.

“are you hurting, y/n?” agatha began, “here, get up.” she added, gesturing to the vanity. you let out a sigh ad you sat up onto it. you tried not to notice the fact that her eyes never left you, trailing up and down your body every so often, but you didn’t see that part.

“better?” she asked, and you nodded. as you leaned in to do her eyeshadow, you could feel her breath, caressing your face gently. your own breath hitched as the action, mixed with her unbroken eye contact, sent shivers down your spine. what was happening to you?

you shook it off as you picked your favourite red lipstick off the table, leaning in to paint her lips. as her rich, amber scent enveloped you, all you could think about is how beautiful she was, how inviting her scent was, and how you just wanted to fall into her lap and kiss her right there and then, you hands running through her luscious dark locks and her stunning hands gripping your waist. you tried to shake the feeling off, not knowing what was going on. she’s a girl, you thought to yourself. oh my god, am i-

“am i all done?” agatha asked, staring up at you.

“uh, yeah. all done! i’ll see you later, yeah?” you gushed, not fully aware if you’d been staring at her or not. you quickly rushed out, grabbing your things.

“alright!” she smiled, “thank you!”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

agnes was in big trouble. she didn’t know how she’d managed it, but she’d managed to fall for the one person that she couldn’t, and it was made worse by the fact she couldn’t tell anyone. if this didn’t go away, she’d be done for. she had known you for twenty five minutes and was already struggling to keep her composure around you, which was a really bad thing, considering that her whole goal here was to keep her composure.

suddenly, there was a knock at the door. she groaned, moving to open it, before being greeted with tony’s dropped jaw.

“you look fantastic!” he began, “i saw y/n leaving, by the way. how did that go?”

“uhh..”

one thing was right. and that was that agnes o’connor had messed up.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

taglist; @hannah-0730 @m1vfs @creaturesaphique @push-on-me @chiar4anna (comment to be added)

#agatha all along #agatha coven of chaos #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #fem reader #agatha harkness x you #rio vidal x reader #agnes o'connor #wlw fic #wlw #lesbian #lesbian fic #agatha all along x reader #el thoughts 💭#el’s inbox 💌

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jeonggukwritingrecs · 22 days ago

Text

Completed Tumblr Fic Recommendations Part Six

@inkedtae

Crema Golden Gills Pretty Boy Quiet Rides

@inktae

Blue Orchids Water Ripples

@imagniation

Neighbours

@jamaisjoons

Golden Daddy Jackrabbit Love Alive

@jeongi

Cabin Fever Caught Me

@jeonqkooks

Strictly Platonic Supernova This is How You Fall in Love Valvet Cherry

@jeonsalibi

Begging for Mercy

@jeonsjiddies

Apodyopsis Practice Makes Perfect

@jeonstudios

Between Takes Brown Eyed Baby Deal Dear Stranger Evolution of a Heart Love You, Crazy Summer Nights and Morning Dew To Tame a God What Money Can Buy Wherever There is You Young Spy

@jeonsweetpea

Bite Me Bounce Devoted to Trouble Will it Fit?

@jessikahathaway

Besties for the Resties Cat Got Your Tongue? Star Crossed Tainted Love

@jimilter

The Ferrari Guy

@jiminrings

Fifth Wish Four Seven Eight How Long Will We Fall Mature Pink Sapphire

@jinfizz

Beg. This Mortal Coil

@jincherie

Under the Bridge

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honeylullaby · 2 months ago

Note

I think Rupert would absolutely spoil the reader whether they want him to or not lol😂

But what about reader seeing a dress or something they really love but it's expensive and don't get it and then a few days later it just shows up at their door 👀✨️

most definitely!! 😅 he would honestly spend so much money on you it would be ridiculous 🥰 such a good idea, on it rn!! 🩷

“Forever Yours, R.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by this sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Rupert seems to have a penchant for gift giving…

18+ FANFIC / Soft Rupert 🥹 Reader character aged at 21.

You much preferred to flick through Rupert’s shopping catalogues than your own. At home, your catalogues were filled with woollen jumpers, middle-aged florals and chunky kitten-heeled boots. Very cute, but very last season. In Rupert’s, there were suave three-piece suits draped on attractive men, tight, breathtaking dresses on even more attractive women, dazzling jewellery and quite possibly the highest heels you have ever seen in your lifetime. “This one’s nice, isn’t it?” You ask Rupert, who was sat beside you on the sofa — puffing hungrily on a thick cigar and flicking through today’s copy of The Scorpion. “Mmm.” He grunted, not looking up from a rather derogatory article about himself, written by a rather familiar journalist.

Your jaw audibly dropped in shock as you flipped the page. There it was. The dress. Electric sapphire blue, pure silk, split hem right up to your pelvis, hugging tightly around the models waist with a plunging neckline. Rupert glanced his eyes towards you at the sound of your lips parting, and quickly transformed his attention back to his paper before you realised. “Wow. That… is… stunning. Look, Rupert! Look how beautiful it is!” You chime, slapping at the glossy paper with widened eyes. “I’ll look in a minute, angel.” He huffed, placing a gentle hand on your knee in order to calm you down. Slightly defeated that your lover didn’t seem to care, you flick to the next page and nonchalantly scan your eyes over the shoes.

Exactly nine days later, the weather was crisp and sharp, and the sun was beaming. Tending gently to your newly-blossomed bush of chrysanthemums in the front garden, Rutshire’s postman trudged his way across the gravelled driveway. “Morning!” He beamed, hauling an overloaded, bulging bag over his shoulder. “Good morning!” You chime back, snipping away at the overgrown weeds with a small pair of shears. “Letters for Rupert?” You ask, looking up towards him and protecting your eyes from the dazzling sun with a neon pink gloved hand.

“No, actually. A parcel for you.” He replied, hushing his tone. “I’ll leave it on the doorstep. See you later!” The charming man grinned. Picking yourself up from the floor and dusting your knees of soil, you sprint towards the front door, pulling your gloves off and throwing them onto the floor as you approach. Pushing the front door open and excitedly making your way into the lounge, collapsing onto the sofa and placing the parcel on your lap. The company name on the shipping label wasn’t one that you recognised, so you hurriedly tore open the box to spy a small, black plastic bag. “Huh?” You ask yourself, beginning to tear it open. Under the layers of plastic, you spy the delicate sapphire silk and run your fingers through the creamy fabric. Placed on top was a small, typed-out card. It read,

‘To my angel,

I told you I would look in a minute.

Forever yours, R’

Salted tears beginning to well in your eyes, you pressed a gentle kiss against the card.

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #rupert campbell black fanfic #rupert campbell black x reader #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #my own dreadful writing

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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copinghex · 6 months ago

Text

The noose | T.S

Summary: Tommy's wife returned home after the failure of his plan got the whole family arrested. The way they deal with her trauma ends up sending her to a worse place.

The feeling of the noose around her neck still haunted her. At that moment, all she thought about was her family, Rose was a daddy's girl, she would be fine eventually, but what about Violet? What about Tommy? What about her brother and mother? What about Finn?

What about Polly? The woman was side by side with her, tears ran down her face as she muttered a prayer and there was nothing Y/N could do, except hoping that her in-laws on the cells aside met a better ending.

With a deep breath, she revisited the past, the smell of Grace's hair as she held the spy from behind, the sound of the train coming and the bitter taste on her tongue, reminding her Tommy that could be dead by then, that if she let Grace go, she’d certainly reach for the gun a few steps away. Her only choices were to kill or die.

Then, the saving yell came, a desperate guard who didn't truly care for the Shelbys' life and was only complying with the king's order of setting the family free.

As they met again in the hallway of jail, no words were said. Polly cried in Michael's arms while Arthur and John hugged each other. Y/N stood there, speechless, waiting for someone to cross the door and hold her too, but no one did.

Somehow, she knew they also blamed her, because she should've talked Tommy out of the russians' business, because she should've given a warning before their arrest. She wished she had then, if she only hadn't choked on her own fear, perhaps their forgiveness would come easily.

On the way out, a driver waited for her, Y/N scoffed at the realization Tommy was too ashamed to face her. She wondered if he still blamed the stupid cursed sapphire for all their misery.

Finally, she was home again, Rose and Violet ran to their mother's arms, crying about how much they missed her. Tommy watched the scene from afar with too many words stuck in his throat, if he was able to kneel and apologize, it still wouldn't erase the guilt he felt.

After Y/N promised she'd never leave again, the children left her alone and she had to encounter her husband. However, while he had too much to say, she had nothing.

The truth was that Tommy always had too much to say, he was a clever, eloquent man, no one ever struggled in maintaining a conversation with him because his views of life were beyond intriguing. The war had taken away his will to speak, but his mind was still a powerforce capable of generating the most fascinating speeches.

On the other hand, Y/N carried herself silently, preferring to show than tell. Every time Tommy spoke about politics, science, religion or even boring mundane tasks, she paid close attention, not bothering to hide the adoration in her eyes. She believed displaying genuine interest was more flattering than attempting to engage in the conversation.

Standing at the entry of the house, they remained silent and silently the days went by. No talks about what happened, no apologies, no touches or significant looks. Everything went back to normal as they ignored the elephant in the room.

That lasted until a particularly warm night, the children were in bed, all the windows were open and many watch dogs guarded the garden. The summer was coming and Y/N decided to welcome it by getting a new style, joining the new fashion of haircuts above the shoulders, as if a new external could cease the mess in her head.

That night no comments were made about her sudden change, everyone sensed the tense atmosphere including herself, who was in desperate need of relaxing, then the idea popped in her head, she needed a long, warm bath.

Heading to the bathroom, she denied the maids' offers of help, aware that she regenerated better alone. She filled the bathtub with cold water and enough soap to make bubbles.

The sudden temperature change sent a shiver down her spine, the blood running on her veins matched summer and took a while to cool up. Resting her head on the tub's edge, Y/N closed her eyes trying to focus on the delicious smell of lavender soap.

However, her heart beated fast and her chest held a tight feeling, as if someone was stepping on her, crashing her ribs and making it hard to breathe.

Her jaw clenched as she ran hands through her recently cut hair, the strange feeling persisted and her blood traveled to her face, heating up her cheeks.

Ignoring the situation, she took deep, slow breaths and rationalized the symptoms. She had an awful couple of months, her body must've been too warm when she got into the cold water. That was all, it would pass.

In the frustrated attempt to calm down, Y/N conjured happy memories. The night her and Tommy celebrated the first legal betting license. Their first honeymoon night and how delighted she was to be officially his wife. When they moved in and inaugurated the house by spending the night together in the bathtub.

Everything with the same Tommy she hadn't spoken to in weeks, the same Tommy she had killed for, the same one to send her to the noose.

The rope squeezed her braid and neck together, Polly's silent prayer was all to be heard, but God wouldn't save them, what would happen next? Was it all done? Would she wake up somewhere else? Was the sapphire really cursed? What now? She wasn't dead but she couldn't breathe,

She couldn't breathe…

She couldn't breathe…!

Y/N opened her eyes, noticing her cheeks wet with tears, gasping for air, her shaky hands grabbed the bathtub's edge in a quick impulse to stand up. Water drops trickled from her naked body making a mess on the bathroom's door, the dogs were barking outside and her sight was getting dark.

Clumsily, she managed to reach for her robe, covering herself with the soft piece of clothing. The tears still came out as her legs got weak, holding onto the walls, she supposed she bumped on something because maids were knocking on the door, "Is everything alright, Mrs. Shelby?"

Y/N recognized Frances' voice, unable to answer, she shrunk her legs and pressed her lips together.

"I think we should call Mr. Shelby," another maid suggested.

Despite feeling weak, her feet moved rhythmically, quick with the energy the rest of her body was lacking. In a matter of seconds, Tommy called for her.

"Y/N, are you alright in there?" the worry in his tone was clear, "Y/N, I need an answer even if you don't want to talk to me!"

Gulping, she brushed off her wet cheeks and sobbed, "Tommy?"

"Y/N, are you alright?"

"...no,"

Everything got silent, the fear was slipping away as she heard the door unlocking. The extra keys, every single door in the house had extra keys. Tired and confused, she remained still.

Tommy rushed to her, it was his turn to panic, he kneeled to her level looking for injuries. Not finding any, he worried even more.

"What the fuck happened?" he sat her up, "What happened, love?"

Ashamed, she stared at the floor, a knot formed on her throat with the urge of crying again, "I don't know- I-"

She sobbed, shrugging off. He immediately pulled her to his chest, not caring if her wet hair would ruin his shirt, "No, no, it's alright, eh? You're alright, I got you now,"

Words were unnecessary for Tommy to acknowledge he was the root of her suffering. He knew how badly he fucked up and seeing his wife like that was the worst punishment ever. Worse than his family's hatred, worse than the possibility of her leaving him, worse than himself being hanged.

Together at bathroom's floor, they grieved her near death. Not all the money, cars or jewels they had could fix the damage, perhaps not even time could, a scar would remain forever regardless of her forgiving him or not.

Feeling her snuggled into him, Tommy muttered, "We need to talk,"

Fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, she quietly answered, "I think we do."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #reader insert

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

Text

Eccentricities

Yandere! Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Dark Themes, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Yandere!Miguel is a warning on his own, spying, peeping, camera use, masturbation (m)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Enjoy my brain rot I now infect you all I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin

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Pt. 1

You weren't sure if it was your luck, or your resume that landed you probably the easiest, most well-paying job you've ever worked. But man, were you glad whatever did get it, got it for you.

Little did you know, it was neither.

The truth is... your boss, Miguel O'Hara, noticed when you emailed it to him. Something about the pictures attached stirred something up inside him.

Maybe it was the soft, Mona Lisa-like smile in your photos, or maybe it was something else entirely. He himself didn't know it, the reason why you immediately piqued his interest.

Sure, he's hired female employees before, one or two housekeepers. They were always buxom girls looking for the whole "boss having sex with his hot maid" cliché. One even tried to trick him with a false pregnancy test, just for him to call her out with a body scan right then and there.

And yeah... he almost always wound up fucking them. But that was it. They were good, warm holes to fuck, that was all. Fuck them until he got bored with them, and toss them out; that's what he would do.

Hell, some of them weren't even good fucks... He'd had better sex from random women he brought home from clubs.

Thank god for non-disclosure contracts.

But you... He had a feeling you would last longer than all of them. There was something about you.

And whatever it was, when he met you for the first time in person in that tiny café, was absolutely intoxicating. Your scent, your voice, the way your eyelashes batted your cheeks, even the shy shuffle of one foot behind the other as you spoke with him.

He could already imagine himself splitting you open with his cock, right then and there. Making you gasp, and scream and writhe and beg him to show some mercy at how he would pummel that sweet little cunt of yours; showing everyone there that you now belonged to him.

But patience is a virtue, and good things come to those who wait.

And Miguel O'Hara always got what he wanted, in the end.

It was just a matter of waiting.

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"I just have to say that, I... It's very generous of you to offer me a room to stay in, Mr O'Hara." You say as he leads you down the hall.

"I really can't thank you enough."

He sucked in an imperceptible breath at your little smile and twinkling eyes as you rocked your head back to look up at him and meet his red-brown ones.

He flashed a smile, charming. His teeth were crooked in some places, but for some reason it put you a bit at ease. Despite his sheer size, Miguel looked... Normal. Drop dead gorgeous "normal", but still. It made him... more relatable to know someone like him wouldn't immediately run to a dentist to fix his teeth to project an image of perfection. That he wouldn't give in to vain appearances.

"Of course. You don't have to thank me at all." He said, leading you down the hall of his impossibly large house--no, mansion--to where you would be living.

"All my previous maids have been given their own spaces to live in, it's easier on them so they don't have to worry about arriving late, or paying for taxis or finding their own ways to work." He replied casually.

"Oh, actually, I'm curious about that. I haven't seen other staff around here, why is that?" You chirp innocently.

"Ah, well..." He said, giving a strained smile. He had to think of something. Fast. He couldn't possibly tell you the real reasons why. Maybe.

Yet.

"They simply didn't work out. Many of them didn't follow direction well and were constantly challenging my authority."

You frown, your brows furrowed. "Okay, arguing with your boss sounds kind of... Dumb."

"Indeed." He chuckled, his voice a deep timbre that you swear sent shivers right through your very bones.

"And as for why you are currently my own employee? Well. I do like my privacy." He tells you.

God, the smell of your perfume and the way your lips sparkled from that lip gloss...

"Ahem. Technically, the only other person you'll be seeing is Lyla."

"Lyla?" You echoed.

"Yes. She's my... assistant. Artificial intelligence. Don't let her snark fool you, she's not so bad once you get to know her." He smirked.

He could hear your pulse quicken whenever he smiled.

"Oh! An AI? I've... I've never actually met one. Like a literal one, not the ones they program into taxis..."

"No, she's far more sophisticated than that. Expertly programmed by me, smart... And of course there's the sense of humor, I don't know where she got that... But she won't bother you often." He assured you.

"Oh! Of course..."

"Now, here's your room." He gave you a grin over his shoulder as he reached for the control panel of the double doors. He could hear your heart pitter patter already.

The doors opened with a dramatic whoosh, and Miguel stepped aside for you to walk in.

He felt a smug sense of pride at your shock of the huge room he'd given you for your own personal space, and how you'd murmured that it was larger than your whole apartment.

Luxuriously furnished, it looked more like some kind of... Of ten-star hotel room or something!

The way your eyes sparkled and your mouth parted in a soft, excited smile. Everything about you had his heightened senses on alert, but not in a bad way.

You looked so soft. So delicious. Something about you made him want to devour you, bit by tiny bit.

"Mr. O'Hara, I... Oh I can't thank you enough! This is..."

"I'll leave you to it." He chuckled, giving a wave as he walked past you back out into the hall.

Pausing in the doorway, he gave you one last look.

"And you can call me Miguel... Pequeña ave."

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He simply couldn't wait and had to violently suppress the urge to drop to all fours and leap like an animal to his office and check the well-hidden, practically invisible cameras he had planted in your room and bathroom.

The moment he entered his office, he locked the door and turned Lyla's access to the room off to leave him to his privacy in case she called him.

Miguel felt a buzzing beneath his skin at the thought of what you could possibly do once you've fallen into a sense of safety and privacy, especially since he'd given you permission to have a few days to become acclimated to your new environment before you had to start work.

He sat on his chair and immediately opened up the files on his monitor, selecting the camera feeds until holograms of you at various angles were projected for him to see.

He watched intently as you unpacked your clothes, placing them in the large ornate dresser.

He already made a mental note to hire movers to bring the rest of your meager belongings to his house.

Yes. Yes.

You would stay.

For as long as he wanted you. And right now he could see himself wanting you for a very, very long time.

The moment you flopped on the bed, your breasts jiggling so beautifully to him, the cute look of surprise as you sunk so deep into the downy mattress before settling in with a relaxed groan that sounded so pornographic to his ears it sent blood rushing straight to his dick.

He leaned back, running his tongue over his fangs as he continued to watch you unwind and unpack, careful not to prick the sensitive muscle on the sharp bone.

He watched you pull a small black box out of one of your suitcases and hastily move to hide it beneath your clothes in your dresser.

Bottom row, far left side, all the way to the back. He made a mental note to inspect that drawer later.

Miguel leaned in towards the projections and tapped the one of you nearest to your new closet as you slipped your blouse off and down your shoulders, revealing your back and the straps of your bra.

The leather creaked under his weight as he shifted, switching the angle to the one directly above the closet, facing down, getting a full downward view of your breasts.

He groaned and reached down to palm at his cock that throbbed in his trousers, stroking the clothed flesh in languid motions, vein beating relentlessly along the length.

He let out a guttural groan when you bent over, slipping your shoes off and placing them on the rack within the closet.

He switched angles as you bent over again and pulled your pants off, revealing your cute ass peeking out from the cotton, cherry-print panties you wore.

He ripped his trousers down to his thighs and fisted his cock in his large hand. He was disappointed you didn't notice he went without boxers today, or maybe you had but were too shy to look.

You were putting on quite the show.

Surely, you couldn't be this naive, right? So innocent? You couldn't just believe some rich man would let you, a cute, sexy little thing live in his house without planting cameras in your room and bathroom?

You must know. You must simply know, and that is why you are sashaying your hips this way and that as you dump your clothes into the laundry bin and grab the vinyl bag containing your hygiene products.

He used his thumb to smear the stream of precum leaking viscously from the head of his cock, groaning as he switched the feed to your bathroom cameras.

He watched you place your pads and tampons in one of the drawers of the vanity, organize your oral hygiene products next to the sink. He studied each bottle of vitamins you placed, his eyes picking up the words "prenatal" on one.

He dropped his head back with a groan and rolled his hips, languidly stroking his dick as his eyes rolled back.

Prenatals. You weren't pregnant, he'd be able to smell it if you were. But already the thought of fucking you full of his cum played in his mind.

His head snapped up when he heard the shower turn on and he frantically switched the feed to the shower cam.

He watched and listened as you hummed a little song to yourself, giggling at the rainfall-like streams that filled the stall.

The way your lips parted and you made that little "oooh" sound had him wondering how you'd sound when he fucked you so hard your eyes crossed.

He began to pump his fist harder, the rivulets of precum giving him ample lubrication to stroke himself.

He ran a hand through his hair as he panted, watching you as you slowly slip your bra off and toss it to the floor, along with your panties.

His hand smashed the control after to change the camera to one that had a better angle of you.

He made a sound that was almost a whimper as you closed the stall door, stepping under the steamy water with a happy and content sigh.

Miguel bit at his bottom lip, fangs threatening to prick the plush skin.

Everything about you was cute and sexy, even that cute little patch of hair between your legs, cut into the shape of a heart.

The thought of lasering that hair off and replacing it with a permanent tattoo of his spider symbol... His own little brand...

He moaned loudly into the dark of his office, feeling his balls draw taut as his orgasm got closer.

Your hands lathered in shampoo, you started scrubbing your hair, your flesh jiggling deliciously as you rinse it out, nails scratching at your scalp.

He wondered what you'd do if he pulled your hair, what sounds you'd make.

He wondered how you'd do if he pulled your hair and made you choke on his cock.

"Mierda!" He hissed, pinching the base of his cock in an effort to stave off his orgasm.

Miguel continued to watch, giving himself teasing strokes as you conditioned your hair right after.

His fist pumped harder and faster when you began soaping up your hands to scrub your skin, cupping your breasts and brushing over your hard nipples.

His breathing was so fast he was practically hyperventilating, the tip of his cock leaking more and more, the length of it throbbing and twitching as you washed the soap off.

When you slipped your hands between your legs to clean yourself there, all Miguel could do was moan pornographically, grabbing at his balls and stroking his cock as he arched his hips off his chair, his thick ropes of cum painting his fingers and dripping down to his palm, splattering a part of his leg and the underside of his desk.

He dropped down, sighing as the buzz of his orgasm slowly faded.

He cut the feed to your room.

And in the dark, bright, ruby-red eyes opened and a fanged smile bloomed.

He was going to enjoy making you his.

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Pt. 2: Link

#yandere!miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse

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1800-fight-me · 8 months ago

Text

Death and His Lady

Death!Aemond Targaryen x Female Assassin!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Extreme violence, explicit smut, allusions to reader having prior trauma

Word count: Almost 6k

Synopsis: As the King's assassin, Death becomes your most trusted confidant, but his influence along with unexpected events lead you down a path you never thought you'd walk.

Author’s note: I have literally been so excited about this fic I can't even deal with it!! Here's another gothic horror romance vibez fic from me! Thank you so much @lauraneedstochill for the beta read! Also the new trailer has me freaking all the way out so here we go! This fic is a rollercoaster ride and I really hope y'all enjoy it!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You courted with Death in this endeavor, that you were certain.

Death must be enamored with you, given how many times you have brushed against it. Once, Death held even you in his arms, his embrace warm, but you spun free before he could sink his claws in you.

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to outwit him.

Like a fox evading a hound, you toyed with Death, amused at his growing frustration at your continued escapes.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you enjoyed being chased as much as you believed he enjoyed chasing you.

But now, as blood spurted from your lips, your vision hazy, you thought you might very well fully succumb to Death’s clutches today.

“No,” you groaned as the vision of him flickered in your view.

White hair, pale skin, one eye of sapphire and one of violet, a jagged scar down his face, clothes of all black to match the black feathered wings at his back.

He looked like an angel- the fallen avenging kind, and he smirked as he cocked his head at you, the promise of conquest in his gaze.

There was a yearning deep in your chest, a desire to have his attentions on you and only you, a pull that left you intoxicated at the sight of him. Perhaps that was why you continued this game.

It was one you could only ever lose.

The wooden chair you were tied to as the men mercilessly beat you groaned in protest from the backwards momentum of your body as your enemy landed another punch, blood spurting again.

You were too far gone for quick witted comebacks, for speaking at all. Being the king’s most trusted spy and assassin was always a dangerous job, but one you flourished in.

Today, however, was particularly dangerous it seemed. You couldn’t even remember what information the men wanted from you anymore.

It didn’t matter, you would never give anything away, you’d sooner greet Death like an old friend than betray your kingdom.

He flickered in your vision once again. His savage beauty was a welcome sight. Like a fallen prince. Like an avenging angel. Like your heart’s darkest desires.

Perhaps it would be a relief to sink into his embrace, to give up, to cease the fight.

His expression changed, no longer self satisfactory, no- he looked angry with you as he strode across the dank dungeon to stand before you.

Time paused completely and you let out a gasping breath of relief as fists paused from meeting your skin.

He leaned down so his face was close enough that your nose nearly brushed his, like a lover would, but no- fury filled his gaze.

“Fight,” he growled at you.

“I can’t,” you gasped.

“You can and you will,” he ordered, “you will not give up and die. Today is not the day.”

Some deep primal part of you woke at those words, at the steel in his tone, at his orders. And the rage and fury inside of him reminded you of your own and it filled you once more. Filled you to fight, to survive.

You would not lay down and die today.

He smirked as he saw the change in your eyes. He brushed a whisper of a kiss to your lips, soft and swift enough that it hardly even counted as a real kiss, but it ignited a flame in you and when your eyes fluttered back open, he was gone.

The tie around your wrists had been cut and as time started again, you caught the fist aimed at your face and you fought.

You gave Death a tribute as your torturers met their bitter end at your violent hands.

Maybe that was why he had always seemed willing to let you go, you mused, you were practically his handmaiden with the amount of souls you gave him, the amount of lives you ended brutally.

You walked out of that dungeon battered and bloody, but alive enough to continue your game with Death, to live for another day.

This game had gone on for years, but never once had he interfered the way he did today, never once had he prevented you from passing over into his realm. No, every other time it had been your own grit and guile.

Today, Death showed his hand when he prevented you from dying.

He enjoyed the chase as much as you did, that you were certain, and you were determined to continue it.

————————————————————

You knelt before your king and the silver white of his hair brought up the memory of your obsession. They say that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Your death god was testimony of that.

Once, when curiosity won over practicality, you spend days in the royal library researching and reading about all of the Targaryen ancestors until you found a book weathered and brown from age that contained artist renditions and you found him.

Your personal demon was Aemond Targaryen, rider of the legendary Vhagar, harbinger of death even in his mortal life.

You read everything you could about his life, drinking in every aspect of his personality that you could learn about him. You were infatuated, perhaps even loved him after his actions to save you.

Your king told you to rise and you reported to him the events of the past few days, leaving out details about your kiss with Death.

The king’s looks were nowhere near the godlike chiseled beauty of his ancestor, you mused as he told you of your next mission. Although it’s not like you were one to talk, earlier as healers cleaned off all the blood and stitched up your cuts, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and had to look away from your bruised and battered form, you were nearly unrecognizable.

“Rest for a few days, then take your leave,” the King ordered.

“Yes, your majesty,” you bowed, then left the throne room.

You retreated to your chambers and immediately tumbled into bed. Sleep took you swiftly and deeply, and like the night after every other near Death experience, he was waiting for you in your dreams.

You asked him once how it worked, and he explained that the veil was always thin after your near crossovers, and he was able to influence your dreams.

And influence them he did… you whimpered as his cock filled you to the absolute brim.

He grunted and pulled your lips to his, tongue tangling with your own, and you wrapped your thighs around his trim waist pulling him closer, wanting him as close as possible.

The angle changed and you shivered, despite the heat of his sweat slicked skin, as he hit the spot inside of you that made you forget anything but him.

“Aemond,” you moaned and he stopped his movement, became still as Death.

“How do you know that name?” He asked, his hand on the side of your neck as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze.

His voice was low and cold, dangerous.

You took a shuddering breath.

“I researched, I needed to know more about the one who haunts me,” you said, putting steel in your voice despite your nerves.

Amusement flickered in his expression, “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“You probably say that to all the assassins you save,” you teased.

He chuckled darkly and you clenched down on his length where he still remained inside you.

His chuckle turned into a growl and he unleashed himself on you, filling you and your heart’s blackest desire.

In the darkest part of the night his sounds of ecstasy tangled with your own until you both found release in one another, the type of release you’d never found with anyone else, and a feeling of comfort and satisfaction unlike any other filled your chest.

With him, you felt whole, but that feeling dwindled as you woke the next morning in your bed alone.

————————————————————

“Lady Death,” the pirate king before you said in an attempt to flatter you.

His handsomeness was average, nothing exciting or remotely comparable to the sharp features of your devilishly handsome death god.

His words clanged inside you and hit upon something true and vital. But, you could not show your reaction.

“Skull King,” you replied, your lips pursed as you lifted your chin.

He laughed, like a sword scraping over stones, and your hand drifted towards the dagger strapped to your thigh.

“You are more beautiful than any descriptions I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“I do not leave many alive to describe me,” you said back with considerable bite in your tone.

He merely laughed once more and waved a hand at you.

“Let us cease with the back and forth and discuss why I am truly here,” you demanded.

“What does your king want?” He asked with a sigh.

“For you to cease your pillaging of the costal villages,” you said.

He narrowed his eyes at you, “And why would he send you to negotiate with me?”

“He knew you would not want or need riches as a bribe. I offer you my services. In exchange for no longer attacking our villages, I will assassinate an enemy of your choice,” you explained.

His broad feral grin was an answer in itself.

————————————————————

“Lady Death Lady Death Lady Death” a deep dark voice hissed at you from the inky black.

Eyes blinked open, shining bright, one sapphire and one violet, and you jolted awake.

You took a shuddering breath, your skin slick with sweat. It had been weeks since you’d seen or heard from Death, and you’d spend that time trying to forget about your last encounter, though your efforts were entirely futile.

But the pirate king’s words to you yesterday had shaken something awake inside you.

You shook your head and arose from your bed, as you readied yourself, strapping an ungodly amount of weapons to your body, you cleared your mind and prepared yourself for another day of offering your midnight lover tributes.

You crept across rooftops, having spent the entire day and most of the night tracking the Skull King’s most bitter rival.

Honestly this whole rivalry seemed trivial to you, but you would do as you were bid.

The man was a piss-poor drunk, having bought himself and the whole bar rounds and rounds of drinks. You watched through the crack in the ceiling as he pulled a barmaid onto his lap despite her protests.

Certainly, now you were more than happy to be the bringer of his death. You gritted your teeth and reminded yourself of patience as he squeezed her curves and she pushed off him, managing to disentangle herself from his drunk and reeking presence.

He yelled after her, slurred and vile words that had you gripping your favorite dagger.

Just wait, just wait, just wait, you reminded yourself. There was to be only one death tonight. If you unleashed yourself now the death toll would be far too great and the act would be sloppy, more easily tracked and blame pinned quickly on the guilty parties.

So you continued to watch and finally when he stumbled to the alley to relieve himself as you knew he would, you crept off the roof and hid yourself in the shadows.

Death himself stood there where the rogue pirate should be. Your heart stumbled but you managed to stop yourself from gasping.

“My lady,” he purred and bowed. Death bowed before you then stepped aside and gestured to the man you were targeting, the man whose life only had moments left.

As Aemond faded back into the shadows, you knew he was still watching, and you blinked twice, gave yourself a second for one steadying breath, then moved.

The man’s back was to you and it took little effort to leap upon his back and slit his throat.

Blood sprayed and you jumped off his back, retreating quick enough that as his body fell to the ground, it did not hit you.

You waited the moments it took for the gurgling noise of him choking on his own blood to cease and made certain he was well and truly in Death’s grasp before you yanked the ring off his finger, the proof of a job well done, and turned to leave.

Before you turned completely, you saw Death as he crouched over the bloodied body, he shot you a wink and you shuddered as you ran off.

You covered your tracks, and when you were certain there would be no possibility of the death being traced back to you, you returned to the office of the Skull King.

You slipped through the shadows and waited for him, lounging in his chair like you owned it- like it was your throne.

When he entered, you threw a knife so that it buried itself in the wall close enough to his head that he felt the whisper of its kiss.

He glared at you and you smirked.

“It’s done,” you said and threw the ring at him.

He caught it, his expression torn between impressed and still angry at your nonverbal threat.

“It needn’t be said, but I can end your life just as easily should you not uphold your end of the bargain,” you said. His face blanched at the tone of your voice, the look in your eye that held Death.

He nodded slightly and with one more smirk at him, you vanished into the dark.

You scrubbed the blood off you and prepared yourself for a night’s rest before beginning your journey back to King’s Landing.

————————————————————

This was the first night Death appeared to you in your dreams even though you hadn’t nearly greeted him in the afterlife.

“How?” You asked breathlessly as his lips broke from yours to create a blazing trail of fire across your jaw and down the side of your neck.

“You are mine, and as you do your king’s bidding- slaughtering - our bond strengthens and so does your power,” he said and then ran his tongue up the column of your throat.

You gasped and you couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or his tongue.

You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

The words echoed in your brain as his lips trailed down your body to your core where he pleasured you with that wicked tongue.

Every time you killed after that night, he appeared in your dreams, joining your bodies in ecstacy and strengthening that connection.

He appeared in a vision every time you unleashed yourself in violence and spilled blood, ending lives, and living up to your new infamous title that rippled across the seven kingdoms, Lady Death.

You no longer lived in the shadows, you became the shadows within men fell.

————————————————————

In the following months, the King kept you busier than ever. You weren’t certain if it was due to the power that your growing reputation provided him or if he wanted to keep you away, that same reputation striking fear into his own heart.

Lately you hardly completed a mission before you received correspondence from the King with instructions for your next kill.

He kept you far away from King’s Landing. It was fine with you, that den of vipers was never your home anyway. You didn’t have a true home. Perhaps that was why the embrace of Death felt like home.

These days you hardly scrubbed the blood off you before you were covered in more. You killed nearly daily. Your connection with Death strengthened, to the point that his presence became near constant, in your waking hours and in your dreams.

The more he appeared, the more you could feel it, that sensation like something prowled beneath your skin begging to burst forward and shatter the world.

There had been no mention again of powers, but yet you could feel them growing.

Months passed, and the first time they manifested, you leveled a building.

You were trapped, well and truly, and it was due to your careless fatal mistake, overconfidence having become a rampant part of your personality due to your successes, and the strength of the death god who worshiped you.

You were surrounded, having not been careful enough to ensure your targets were alone, too cocky that you wouldn’t be followed, and now you fought against twelve men.

”Kill them,” Aemond hissed from where he stood behind you, his rage growing stronger and directly influencing your own emotions.

You could not determine where his emotions began and yours ended, so entangled the two of you had become.

You tried, you used all of your skill, all of your strength, and it was not enough as the sword sunk into your gut.

You hadn’t been this close to joining Death in the afterlife in a long while.

“End them, destroy, and take what is yours,” Aemond growled through clenched teeth.

You knew he would not do it for you, if he did then you wouldn’t be who he thought you were, who he needed you to be, who he loved.

And you could feel it again, that thing that prowled beneath your skin begging to be released.

So you became Death Incarnate as liquid fire filled your eyes and soul and exploded from your body. Black cold flames that instantly killed everyone they touched.

“Good,” Aemond urged, those same wild flames in his eye. He pressed a kiss to your throat and the flames only grew stronger.

His hand grazed your stomach, healing the wound.

Your chest heaved as you took ragged breaths and surveyed the carnage around you.

The fire grew out of control as you started to panic, but with Death’s careful instruction, you grounded yourself and reeled it all back in.

You stood, dead bodies littered the ground around you, and only moved when the building groaned and threatened to fall atop you.

You walked out of the ruined structure side by side with Death, as it crumbled behind you, leaving devastation in your wake.

————————————————————

One night, during a dream, as you lay breathless in his arms after you both reached such high peaks at one another’s tongues, you asked him the question that had been so heavy on your mind.

“Why me?” you asked curiously.

“Hm?”

His fingers traced patterns on your back. You turned your head from its place in his neck- you were half lying on his chest, and looked over at his wing.

“Why did you choose me?”

He chuckled softly. “Never before have I seen someone turn Death into such a beautiful game. You intrigued me.”

You brushed a finger down the most sensitive part of his wing and he shuddered.

“And now?” you asked.

“And now, sweet temptress, you have convinced me to devote the entirety of my eternal being to you,” he growled before flipping you over suddenly so you were beneath him.

You grinned at him, breathless and in wonder, and had no words, so you simply pulled his mouth to yours and proved to him how utterly devoted you were to him as well.

————————————————————

It took time and Aemond’s careful instruction- months as you continued killing daily, fulfilling the King’s requirements, but you learned to control your newfound powers, that death fire. Still you couldn’t hide their manifestation in your eyes when you were angry or prepared to kill.

You stood before your King once more and offered a several months long report detailing your actions since you last saw him.

“Do not leave out any details,” he warned you through narrowed eyes.

You pursed your lips and revealed as little information as you could about this magic, these powers that have recently manifested, but enough to please him.

You knew he’d gotten reports, you rarely left eyewitnesses, but still rumors spread, you could hardly downplay it.

You saw the wariness in his expression.

Death manifested at your side.

“Kill him,” he murmured.

You ignored him, continuing to report to the King.

“When were you going to tell me of this new magic you wield?” He asked, distrust in his voice.

“End him, take his power for your own, sit on the Iron Throne,” Death whispered in your ear, purring like a lover.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in months, my King, you’ve kept me busy far away from the Red Keep, one could only wonder why,” you said, with only a little bit of bite.

The King narrowed his eyes at you once more.

“I do not have to explain my decisions to you. Your role is to serve and not question,” he sneered.

For the first time while you were awake, you could feel Aemond’s hands on you. The bond between the two of you was stronger than ever as he stood behind you and intertwined his fingers with yours. He slowly brought your intertwined hands down from the small of your waist to the front of your hip- threatening to go lower, an echo - a memory of the night before he knew he triggered by that action.

You remembered your dream last night, in a very similar position except then you sat before a mirror as he guided you to touch yourself, to aid him in giving you release, insisting you watch yourself as you moaned his name in ecstacy and he poured honey filled praises in your ear. He pulled two releases from you, forcing your eyes back on yourself, before he finally filled you, and the sight of him inside you, both your expressions twisted in pleasure, was the most erotic sight of all.

The memory flashed in your eyes and you saw his current actions for what they were, a blatant attempt at seduction, as he used that same deep velvety voice as when he was trying to make you come, as his lips grazed your ear and beautiful silver hair fell over your shoulder, as he said, “Kill him, my love.”

And you thought…

You thought he might be right.

Maybe you should kill this condescending king. You were more powerful than him. You were more powerful than everyone but your lover, no, to Aemond you were his equal.

His Lady Death, and maybe it was finally time to take what was your own, to use your skills and powers for yourself, not in the service of others, not in the service of a king who didn’t appreciate you.

You indeed felt that power within you begin to rise to the surface.

And the king blanched, fear changing his expression.

“What are you?” He gasped.

And just like that, the fire that had begun to build inside you, which you were sure was molten in your eyes, sputtered out as if water had been thrown on you.

“Your loyal servant,” you murmured with a curtsey.

Death growled his discontentment, but you ignored him.

The king nodded, his lips pursed, and dismissed you.

For the first time in a long long time, you were uncertain of your own actions and choices.

————————————————————

Two weeks later, you were in the North with a list of targets from the king to dispatch.

The image of the king’s fear of you constantly flashed in your mind, regret and pride creating an uncomfortable cocktail of emotions within you.

The regret was waning as Death continued as your constant companion, seducing and urging you forward.

Your days became routine, although it was a comforting routine.

Wake up, eat, train your magic, prepare, kill, be rewarded in the form of Aemond fucking you, sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

The last name on your list of kills in the North was one you were actually eager for. This kill you would savor rather than committing without feeling. This time, you were able to use your skills for both your King and your own gain.

This man had been one of your tormentors in your youth, you’d never had the time to track him down after he fled from King’s Landing, and now you would grant him the slow painful death he deserved.

He sat in his home, a candle in the window, and you knew the timing was right. You’d watched him for days and knew you had a window of time of about two hours before his preferred courtesan arrived.

Hate had your heart beating like a drum, your power rising, but you stifled it. You had to be clear headed and you didn’t want to use your powers to grant him an instant death, no, he deserved something wholly different. You wanted to feel his death, his blood on your own hands.

You snuck through the back door, through the broken lock you’d disabled the night before.

You ensured you were well and truly alone- besides your Angel of Death, creeping through the dark house towards your quarry.

You stepped into the sitting room and relished the way his eyes widened in fear, then recognition as you threw back your hood.

He breathed out a name, not one of your many titles, a name from a past life, a name no one besides Death knew, a name not even your king knew.

The flames in your eyes guttered, replaced by cold rage.

His eyes again filled with fear as you threw a dagger that embedded itself in his shoulder.

A yell of pain and outrage as he tried to stand, but quick as an asp another dagger fled from your hand and buried itself into his other shoulder.

Another dagger was in your hand, poised to throw if necessary.

He gritted his teeth, blood flowing heavily, and you smirked.

“Bitch,” he spat out.

Aemond appeared behind you, and hissed in disapproval.

Anger fell to cold terror as he beheld the Death God behind you.

His haunting beauty, both terrible and great, that was the other side of the coin to your own- that made you the perfect pair.

“You can see him?” you asked.

He nodded and the smell of urine filled the room.

“Interesting,” you murmured even as your nose wrinkled at him.

“It’s high time I teach you what real fear feels like,” you purred, your words an echo of the ones he’d said to you in your girlhood.

And show him you did.

Even after you were done, your rage was a jagged thing in your chest that threatened to swallow you whole. You didn’t know how to put it back in that carefully constructed box that allowed you to play the part of the disinterested assassin.

Aemond crouched over the body, pressing two fingers to the forehead, sending the soul to the afterlife- to eternal torment, as he always did after you killed.

He was the beginning and end of the destruction you wreaked on others, on the world.

Slaughter, that was what you had done today. You couldn’t decide if it made you feel better or worse. You supposed it didn’t matter, the man was no longer capable of hurting others the way he had hurt you.

Death prowled to you, and you looked up at him, chest still heaving and beating hard from whatever today’s actions had both shattered and healed within it.

He stood close enough that his steady chest brushed against yours.

Dark flames danced in his gaze, the same that danced in your own when your emotions were heightened, you both had the same unholy powers as a result of your bond, your union.

And you knew he understood you completely, when he said nothing, for there were no words that would soothe now, no he simply leaned down and kissed you, thoroughly and deeply.

When he pulled back, only slightly, brushing his sharp nose against yours, he murmured, “You taste better when you mean it, when your heart is in the kill.”

You let him make love to you in the blood spattered room.

————————————————————

Your waking hours and dreams bled into one, so filled with him and the pleasure only he could provide.

This was indeed one of those moments, where the release he pulled from you was so strong, so heady, that you could not be certain if you were awake or dreaming.

You moaned as he gripped your hips and continued a brutal pace as he thrusted inside you.

Your power, his power, flames of Death danced and burned in the bed along with you as he joined himself with you.

You burned with heat, with love for the only one who truly understood you- your mirror image due to the brutality inside both of you.

But suddenly, he stopped.

“Wake up,” he ordered, an expression you’d never seen on his face before, something akin to panic.

“What?” you asked in confusion.

“Wake up!” he yelled, and at that primal dominance in his tone, you obeyed.

You held in your gasp as your eyes opened and you beheld the scene before you.

You were not alone. The room was filled with men all with weapons in their hands.

“The king sends his regards,” the assassin in your bed hissed as he lifted a dagger to thrust it into your heart.

You had less than a heartbeat to react.

Just as the sharp tip of the dagger broke your skin, black flames exploded out of you, ravaging the room and everyone in it.

You sat up, hand on your chest and blood coating your fingers, and surveyed your destruction.

The room was filled with fire. Every man was instantly dead, and now your black flames turned them to ashes.

Aemond stood in the center of your storm, and watched you, pride evident in his gaze.

Betrayal twisted in your gut, making you feel sick, and you extinguished the fire.

“He tried to kill me,” you rasped out.

Your angel of death, your protector, your lover in life and death nodded.

“He fears you and the power you hold. He is a jealous coward,” he said, cold anger filling every word.

“You were right,” you whispered, hoping that if you said them quietly enough that they wouldn’t be true.

He simply nodded again.

And it finally sunk in. The king you had devoted your entire adult life to, the king you had defiled yourself for through all manner of heinous acts of bloodshed, had betrayed you.

He had turned on you, quickly and easily, despite your continued loyalty. He’d sent a group of men to kill you in your sleep after you just finished killing everyone on his list.

He always had someone else do his dirty work, the coward he is, but usually you’re the one he sends out.

This time he’d sent others to kill you as if you were no more than a loose end, a task to check off his list, and inconvenience that had grown too taxing.

You met the heavy gaze of Death and said, “I know what I have to do.”

————————————————————

The entire journey back to the Red Keep Aemond reviewed and revised the plan with you over and over again.

You were ready. You were prepared.

All of the skills, techniques, and powers you had acquired you were going to use for your own gain, for yourself today - with Death at your side.

No one knew the secret passages of the Red Keep better than the King’s Assassin. You crept in at night, using the darkness as a cloak and remaining completely undetected.

You set yourself up high in the mezzanine above the throne room and settled in for a long wait.

Patience was key to your plan, to all of your plans generally, but it didn’t mean that the fury didn’t still burn as hot as ever.

You let the black flames twirl and dance around your fingers and promised yourself that this time, it would be different. This time, you would come out on top.

Hours passed, your legs cramped, but you ignored it, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right moment.

You watched as dawn broke, bathing the room in golden light that bounced off the Iron Throne.

The king eventually sat on that throne, meeting with petitioners, and you continued your game of patience.

Finally, the moment was right, the room was no longer teeming with people, but not empty enough that there wouldn’t be an audience.

You leapt from your hiding spot and landed nimbly right before him. Shock and fear changed his previously bored expression.

You smirked, a cutting spiteful thing, as you stood.

There was yelling from the king’s guards, but your midnight fire surrounded and circled the king and you, separating you both from everyone else in the room. The few who tried to cross it died instantly, the others learned from their mistakes and stepped back from your flames and watched.

“Surprised to see me?” You asked.

The blood drained from his face.

Satisfaction only fueled the righteous fury in your chest.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“You tried to kill me,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” he merely repeated.

“I have given EVERYTHING for you and to protect your rule. Have done EVERYTHING you asked. And this is how you reward me? By sending others to murder me in my sleep?” You said, lip curling in a snarl and angry tears pooling in your eyes.

Death became visible at your side, not behind you like your puppeteer- beside you as your equal. He was not only visible to you- no you knew he was always with you - he became visible to everyone in the room as your fire pulsed higher and hotter.

His hand on your back steadied and reassured you.

Gasps filled the room once more.

You glanced at Aemond, his long white hair juxtaposed against the black of his wings, his beauty something of dreams and nightmares. He had an intense look on his sharp face, but underneath it was love for you and only you.

The king looked at his ancestor, made eye contact with his own demise, then looked back at you.

“You were too dangerous to be kept alive,” he said.

“I was completely loyal to you until your lackey tried to stab me in the heart,” you spat.

“I suspect it will be the last mistake I ever make,” he said.

“That is correct,” Aemond replied, his voice smooth and confident.

“Kill him, my love,” Death urged. This time, you listened.

A ball of fire appeared in your hand as you bared your teeth at the man who would no longer be your ruler.

“You were right to fear me,” you said darkly, and threw Death Flames at your king.

————————————————————

Aemond walked forward slowly and reached towards the king as you took gasping shuddering breaths.

You stopped seeing him, stopped seeing anything, as the impact of your actions crashed over you.

He was before you once more, and with gentle fingers under your chin, he tilted your head back so you could meet his gaze.

“My Lady Death, My Queen,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear before he pressed his lips to yours.

His kiss enveloped and steadied you.

Your flames sputtered out, but no one made a single move, for fear of the two of you.

As he pulled back, he smiled at you, took a step back, and placed the conqueror’s crown on your head.

“How do I taste now?” you asked.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, his voice deep and soft as velvet.

You grinned back at him, a wild feral thing.

He took your hand and led you to sit on the Iron Throne.

Death then kneeled before you, bowing his head.

“Kneel before your Queen,” he ordered, loud enough for all to hear.

Everyone in the room followed suit.

You became the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms with Death at your side.

You would rule together, side by side, using your powers for your own gain, as Queen and King, as Death and His Lady.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen smut

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dirty-jammies · 2 years ago

Text

💕🍰 A Treat for the Prince 🍮🦈

(Prince Sidon x Chubby!Fem!Reader)

You and Sidon attend a royal banquet. You're instantly drawn to the vast array of desserts, but your lover wants to indulge in something even sweeter...

Contents: bad dessert innuendos, body worship, breast touching/sucking, oral (fem recieving), multiple orgasms, overstim, vaginal sex, double penetration (Sidon has 2 dicks), rough sex, little bit of breeding kink, uhhh and our Prince loves thicc Hylian ladies!

(Notes: Here we go! The first of (hopefully) many Sidon x reader fics from yours truly!)

As King Dorephan gave his speech, you tried your best to pay attention, though your eyes kept drifting to the large display of food on the table before you. It was a celebration banquet for the citizens of Zora's Domain, so they went all-out. Celebrating Bazz's promotion to Sergeant of the Royal Guards, welcoming the new head physician for the domain, Yona, and, of course, honouring yourself as the newly-named official consort for the Prince of the Zora.

You glanced up to Sidon, who immediately met your eyes and gave you a smile. The title of consort was simply a formality, you and Sidon were already far, far closer than that, though that was a secret just the two of you kept. The bitemarks on your shoulders from last night were proof enough of that. You hid them well under a soft cloak that complimented your silk dress beautifully. It was a sapphire blue that matched the jewels decorating the Prince's armour. The fabric hugged your soft middle in a way that made the Prince's eyes keep running up and down your lovely form. You flushed under his gaze, and gave him a look that said "Later."

King Dorephan finished his speech and the room applauded. Everyone took their seats and you followed suit, sitting next to Sidon and smiling at the bountiful feast everyone could enjoy. Naturally it featured fresh seafood, but there were also several Hylian dishes to suit your palate. You took a little of everything, making sure you'd have room to enjoy the desserts you could spy off to the side.

Sidon took your hand under the table, "Is everything to your liking, my droplet?" He spoke softly, lest anyone hear the endearing pet name.

You hummed around a forkful of salmon marinated in herbs and stambulbs, "It's magnificent, my Prince." You smiled brightly.

Sidon matched your smile, "Wonderful! I'm glad you enjoy it," he gestured to some crab cakes on his plate, "I've never had these before, they're quite good! I never knew Hylian food was so rich!"

You laughed a bit and politely wiped your mouth with a napkin, “It shouldn’t concern you, my Prince, with all the swimming you do, you can indulge for a night.”

“I’m not concerned, and you shouldn’t be either,” Sidon brushed your leg with his own and you shivered at the rough texture of his skin, he leaned down to whisper to you, “I do so love watching you indulge in the finer things in life~” he slid another helping of fish onto your plate and you flushed.

Sidon sat back in his seat, as though nothing happened, and he turned to interrupt Muzu, who was beginning to say something like “What kind of royal consort is served by the prince!?”

You kept eating, enjoying the flavours of the different types of fish mingling with vegetables and herbs. Before long, the entree plates were emptied and cleared away, and plates full of decadent-looking desserts were brought out.

Sidon hummed, looking at the treats, “Oh my, I haven’t seen any of these, either! Let’s see, y/n?” you looked up as he said your name, “Which of these would you recommend?”

You swallowed, not having seen this many desserts in one place before. You surveyed the selection before your eyes caught on a simple white ramekin. You smiled and picked it up, “I think you’d enjoy this one, my Prince!” you set it before Sidon and handed him a spoon, “It’s called crème brûlée. It’s custard with burnt sugar on top.”

Sidon looked at the dish curiously, “It’s burnt… on purpose? Intriguing,” he went to scoop some out, and he grinned when the top crust cracked, “Oh! It shattered!”

You smiled up at him as he tried a bite. You loved watching him indulge, too. He was always so worried about the Kingdom and his responsibilities, you always adored when he simply relaxed. You were very good at helping him relax, after all.

Sidon’s eyes widened, “This is simply perfect! It’s creamy and sweet, and the top is very crunchy and it has a different flavour entirely!” He hummed and looked at you, his eyes becoming half-lidded, “You know… this treat reminds me of you.”

“O-oh?” you felt your heart skip a beat at the heated look in the prince’s golden eyes, “How do you mean?”

Sidon ran his spoon through the silky custard cream, “It’s so sweet, and soft…” one of his hands squeezed your thigh through your dress, making you jump slightly. You could see his sharp teeth glint in the low candlelight as his low voice, only loud enough for you to hear, rumbled from his chest, “and so delightfully fun to break~” the spoon cracked the top of the brûlée and you felt a jolt go through your body as his claws poked into your plush thigh, no doubt leaving pinpricks in your dress.

“Is everything okay, y/n? Your face is positively red?” Sidon asked louder, feigning ignorance. You could see the cheeky, lusty look in his eyes still.

You cleared your throat, “I-I’m fine, thank you, my Prince.”

“Ah, I see the problem, you haven’t had any dessert yet,” Sidon laughed, “Go ahead, have whatever you’d like!”

You looked at the variety of the desserts still on the table, eyes being drawn to a personal-sized red velvet cake tiered with icing and wildberries. You smiled and set it in front of you, giving Sidon a coy smile of your own, “Hm, what a coincidence, this one reminds me of you.”

Sidon looked down at you after taking a sip of his drink from a tall glass flute, “Is that so, droplet?”

You licked your lips, “It’s red and rich and delicious…” you brought a forkful to your mouth and looked at your beloved through your lashes, “and I don’t know if it can all fit inside me.”

Everyone at the table turned your way as Sidon shattered the stem of his glass with the way his hand clenched. You hid your grin with a mouthful of cake, not caring about the cold liquid spilled on your lap. He covered his fluster with a cough and a laugh.

“O-oh! How clumsy of me! I spilled my drink all over y/n’s dress!” he laughed and took your hand, “It simply won’t do for my consort to be in such a state! Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Without another word (although with some cut-off protests from the other nobility at the table), Sidon whisked you away from the banquet and straight towards his (and your) quarters.

You giggled as he hastily locked the bedroom door behind him and fixed you with a lusty gaze.

“My naughty little minx,” he purred, caging you in against the bed, “You really know how to make me lose control.” He leaned down to capture your lips with his own and you moaned as you felt his huge hands run up your plush form, your dress bunching up at the sides, the silky fabric sliding up your body sensually, delighting the sensitive nerves of your sides and tummy. Your prince’s hands wasted no time and started feeling up your newly-exposed skin. Sidon’s tongue explored your mouth, the different flavours of caramel and berries mixing into an intoxicating sweetness.

“Sidon,” you breathed as he released your mouth, hands reaching up to undo your cloak. As the fabric fell away, the Zora let out a pleased rumble and started showering wet kisses to your shoulders and neck, “Ah, that feels so good!”

Sidon laughed roughly against your skin, “As sweet as that dessert was, I much prefer devouring you, my sweet~” He groaned as his hands dipped under your panties, getting two handfuls of your ass. You gasped as his sharp teeth grazed the tender bitemarks he left on you last night as he groped you roughly. “You drive me absolutely wild…” he panted, breath hot against your neck.

“Let me,” you put a hand on his chest and the prince pulled away just enough to let you completely pull off your blue dress, tossing it to the side. Sidon’s eyes were downright hungry as you reached behind you to unclasp your bra, leaving your top completely bare, “Come here?” you fell back on the bed, sandals coming off of your feet, and reached out to him, needing his hands on you again.

Sidon took a steadying breath and removed his cravat and armour pieces, watching you watch him with an equally greedy, needy desire. He set the pieces on his dresser and nearly launched himself at you. Your mouths met in a messy, desperate kiss, your arms around his strong neck and his hands exploring every dip and curve on your gorgeous, soft body. Your tongue ran over his teeth, and Sidon rumbled as he tasted some of your blood on his own tongue.

“So delicious,” he purred, moving down your body, trailing his long tongue down your body, leaving sucking bites all over your plush form. He lapped at your nipples, teasing the buds until they were stiff before pinching them roughly making you squeal. He grinned up at you, “Such a gorgeous reaction. I adore playing with you like this, droplet~” you squirmed in his hold, moaning in pleasure as he sucked dark marks into the soft, tender flesh of your breasts.

You were shivering in his hold, moaning into the cool air of the room. Sidon nuzzled into your belly, kissing right under your navel, once a part of your body you disliked, but that opinion swiftly changed when your lover told you how much he loved it.

Sidon held your thick thighs apart and grinned. Your face flushed hot as you realized he must be looking at your completely-sodden panties. He looked up, meeting your eyes with his own heated, golden gaze. You could see his teeth glint in his smile as he trailed his tongue up the sensitive skin where your thigh met your pelvis and he let out a rough growl as his teeth caught on the fabric of your panties, snapping the thin material and making you gasp. He repeated the action just as slowly and sensually, leaving your panties tattered and your pussy exposed.

“Mm, I love seeing you like this,” he breathed, hot breath washing over your most sensitive part and making you whimper, “This is by far my favourite treat in the world…”

Your head rolled back in the pillows and you moaned as Sidon’s thick, slippery tongue slithered up your pussy, collecting your juices and bumping into your hard little clit. You reached down and held Sidon’s head, gentle on the sensitive fins even as your mind went numb from pleasure. You struggled not to use your thighs to hold him in place, and he must have felt them quaking. Sidon groaned into you and used his hands to grope your thighs, bringing them to lock around his head. He pulled off enough to whine, “Please, please, my love! I love feeling these juicy thighs around me,” he smiled, grazing his teeth over your inner thighs, “I want you to hold me down until you cum for me~”

You cried out, thighs holding Sidon in place as he went back to work, teasing your lips and clit, with his tongue, slurping so loudly it made your face flush in embarrassment. Your prince was loud, too, letting out loud groans as he ate you, his hips grinding into the mattress beneath you. You gasped as his tongue finally slithered inside you, teasing your gummy walls and reaching deep, deep inside. You writhed in the sheets, Sidon’s hands holding your thighs around his head and keeping you where he wanted you. Your hips started grinding down on his tongue, urging it further inside. His teeth grazed your clit and your eyes rolled back, crying out as orgasm rippled through your body. Sidon moaned with you, his tongue held taught, letting you ride it through your pleasure. Your body went limp and Sidon pulled away from you. As you came down from your high, you looked at him and saw him lick his lips lewdly.

“So very delicious~” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened up, kneeling on the bed. You could see both of his cocks already starting to protrude from their slit.

You panted and readjusted yourself amongst the pillows, opening your arms, “Come here, my Prince,” you called with a lusty smile, “I want seconds.”

Sidon smiled and crawled above you, “Oh, my sweet little droplet, I’ll give you anything you desire,” he held up your hips to align with his claspers, the long, tapered, tendril-like lengths stretching up to tease over your sopping-wet lips, “do you know what I’m going to do to you, darling?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, pretending not to know exactly what he was planning. (hint: it’s the same thing he did last night, and the night before, and the previous morning…)

Sidon groaned as his hands started groping your sides again, moving you to line up his cocks with your pussy, “I’m not only going to fuck you,” the word was spoken roughly and it made your heart skip a beat. He never swore unless he was with you~ “I’m going to stuff you. I’m going to stuff you so full with my seed that you’ll be dripping with it, so full that you’ll become addicted to the feeling of being a sweet little depository for my cum.” He panted harshly, his hips grinding his cocks against you, bumping your oversensitive little clit and making you whine at the feeling and his filthy words, “Do you want that, my droplet?”

You nodded, feeling like you were losing your mind, “Yes, please! Please, Sidon, fill me up!” you panted, rocking your hips down. You cried out as just the tips breached your well-lubricated pussy.

Sidon snarled and grinned, holding your hips above the bed with his superior strength, “Get ready, darling,” He groaned as he slowly eased both cocks inside you, letting you adjust when they were halfway in, “Oh, gods, my droplet, you’re so hot inside!” he cried out.

You cried out and panted, adjusting to the twin lengths inside you. You could feel them squirming around inside you, looking for a place to hold you open as you were bred. The thought alone made you feel hotter and you nodded, needing Sidon to fulfill his promise and stuff you full.

Sidon eased his hips forward, his cocks delving as deep as they could go before they spread. You screamed and gasped as a second orgasm rocked your body. You whined and urged Sidon to keep going. The prince let out ragged breaths, letting out a rough groan as he was fully inside you, and he started pumping his hips, cocks drawing in and out, in and out, his hips smacked into your own, and he looked down at you, vision hazy with lust, as he saw your thighs, stomach, and tits jiggle with each movement, “Fuck, my droplet, my… princess! Fuck!” His eyes dilated, the gold of his irises barely visible as he lost himself to the pleasure. The lingering taste of your juices, your blood, your dessert on his tongue, the scent of you, powerful in this room from the nights you spent sleeping in the sheets, the feeling of your soft body welcoming him in, your hot, wet, tight pussy embracing his cocks and begging him to breed you, to fill you, to stuff you. It was all too much.

Sidon roared and moved, holding your legs up to your shoulders, and you could see him grin as he easily maneuvered you into a mating press. He started slamming into you, cocks flexing and reaching deeper than his tongue could, sliding against your sweet spot and teasing your cervix with every rough thrust. He leaned over you and he pounded you, hot breaths ragged against your neck as he growled more filth into your pointed ear.

“You’re mine! This body, all of this gorgeous body is all mine!

“You're so lovely, my sweet droplet! I need you, I need you so badly, all the time! I want you like this every day!

“My darling, I’m going to fill you up, you'll come un-done! Around me, and, and, unggh, I’m going to- going to-!”

You grabbed Sidon’s head and smashed your lips together, not caring how his sharp teeth cut your lips, tongues warring as he came. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling of his thick and heavy cocks unloading into you, his thick seed pouring into your womb as his chest rumbled against your own thundering heartbeat. One of Sidon’s giant hands came down and started roughly rubbing your clit, sending you over the end for the third time that evening. You whined and shuddered against him, toes curling in the sheets.

“My beautiful princess, my sweet droplet…” Sidon panted and held your cheek, “I love you so much…”

You held his hand and kissed inside his palm, “Oh, my Prince, I love you too, with all my heart…” your vision was bleary, but you could see how tender the prince’s smile was for you. Only for you.

Sidon lowered your legs and you whimpered, startling him, “Oh! Dear, I was too rough on you, wasn't I?” He looked ashamed.

You reached out and pulled him back against your chest, “No, you were perfect~” you giggled and kissed him again, sweeter this time. Sidon sighed pleasantly and licked up the dried blood on your lips.

“Everyone is probably worried about us,” Sidon said with a half-smile, “But I don't quite want to leave yet.”

You hummed, “Oh? And why is that, my Prince?” You teased and flexed around his cocks, still inside you, getting hard again.

Sidon purred and ground his hips into yours, “I don't think you're quite full yet~”

#This is self-indulgent but that's what fanfic is all about babyyy #enjoy!#sidon x reader #sidon x fem reader #sidon smut #Pajama Writes #chubby reader #plus size reader #fat reader #sidon totk #prince sidon #Sidon x reader smut

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